"Speaking of which, how did you escape from Azkaban?" Harry asked curiously, setting down the tart juice in his hand.
"I've heard lots of people say that you're the first person to escape from Azkaban in centuries. The papers never mentioned how you got out."
"Of course they wouldn't say how I escaped." Black chuckled, his voice full of contempt.
"That fellow Fudge would never let any news that reflected badly on him get out, let alone a disgrace like a criminal escaping from Azkaban. Even an idiot could see that he wanted to get himself an Order of Merlin."
"In fact, Harry, you were the reason I first thought of escaping from Azkaban."
"Because of... me?" Harry suddenly felt a little touched.
"Yes, because of you," Black said softly. "By chance, I saw that-rat in the Daily Prophet."
"The rat-do you mean Ron's Scabbers? No, Peter Pettigrew?" Hermione had looked interested for some time, and now she spoke up.
"There's no way I could ever forget him." Black nodded, a flicker of hatred passing through his eyes. Then he remembered that the damned traitor had probably already become a living corpse by now, and his hatred swiftly turned to satisfaction.
"No one knows him better than I do. On the day I was arrested, he blew up an entire street with magic to make his escape, leaving behind a finger just to frame me."
"So you broke out to catch him?" Harry asked, his voice strained.
"Not entirely." Black shook his head and gave Harry a long look. "As I said just now, it was for you, Harry."
"You all know that Pettigrew betrayed us a long time ago and made contact with the Dark Lord." As he spoke, a mocking smile appeared on Black's face. "And, as everyone