"Why don't you start by telling me what really happened that day... when you, 'apparently,' blew up half a Muggle block and took a dozen lives in the process?"
That... day?
Sirius Black blinked, a little taken aback by the unexpected question. He braced himself to be asked about the Black family fortune, or maybe some dusty old secrets from his ancient family's library—but never did he expect to be asked about the most regretful period of his life.
Why does this young man want to know about that time? Am I really wrong to think he isn't just after the Black family's wealth or secrets?
"Why?" he asked, unable to hold the thought.
He didn't realize it yet, but for the first time in a long while, his frantic, half-mad mind—worn down by years of suffering—had settled enough for him to think clearly, before the madness could push him into reckless actions. Unbeknownst to him, a faint, whitish halo-like aura surrounded him, an invisible calm that was exactly why his racing thoughts had quieted for the moment.
The Patronus Charm, at the advanced level, gave Maverick many insights into the spell's versatile uses—not just as a mere insect repellent, i.e., Dementors—and what was happening to Sirius now was one such example.
In addition to making someone feel emotionally uplifted, the Patronus Charm could also, with subtle adjustments, calm a person's emotions—much like the Draught of Peace or a Calming Draught, which are used to relieve anxiety, agitation, and mild depression. Of course, that's not all it can do... but that's a matter for another time.
"Like I said earlier, I know about a certain rodent who's supposed to be dead... but is very much alive. I only found out recently. And the funny thing is—you just so happened to escape Azkaban right around the same time. Strange, isn't it?"
"I didn't think that was a coincidence... Pettigrew, alive, and the man who supposedly killed him just so happened to escape Azkaban. How did you find out he was still breathing, anyway?"
"I saw the rat on the news," Sirius eyes flashed with loathing. "Not many know his Animagus form, but I'd never forget that filthy little traitor."
Maverick hummed thoughtfully. Of course, he already knew that. Or at least, he had guessed—pulled from memories of the original story. Still, it was good to confirm that the plots hadn't changed too much.
Fate… what a terrifying thing. Even in a world so different—and with himself as the butterfly—it seemed some invisible hand was quietly correcting the ripples.
"I see," he murmured, brushing aside the shivering thoughts clawing at the edge of his mind. "Anyway—back to your little question. Since Potter happens to be my student, I figured, I should learn more about the case... hence, why we're all here now."
His gaze then sharpened.
"Now, Black… if you tell the truth... and believe me, I'll know if you're not... I'm willing to help clear your name. But if you really are the criminal the world believes you to be…"
His eyes flicked briefly to the beast beside him.
"…Then I'll feed you to my friend right here without a second thought."
At his words, Ali—still in his monstrous form—grinned, wolfishly. Literally. His menacing pupils thinned into narrow slits as he loomed beside the young man, glaring straight at Sirius.
The veteran prisoner of the most dreadful prison visibly paled.
By Morgana's rotting knickers… what kind of two-faced lunatic is this? Sirius cursed inwardly, a cold sweat breaking across his back. One moment the kid sounded like a proper bloke—rational, calm, even weirdly charming. And the next… a bloody psychopath, all smiles and threats like they were the same thing.
Swallowing a dry mouthful of saliva, Sirius turned his gaze from the talking pet demon to the young man. He sighed dejectedly, then, as his mind drifted back to that long-buried day, he finally prepared to speak.
But first, he needed to clear a doubt swirling in his mind. Steadying his racing thoughts, he said, "I'll tell you everything. But first... could you please explain why, since you're my godson's teacher and a professor at Hogwarts, you haven't caught that rat yet? Surely a mage of your caliber wouldn't find it difficult."
Maverick curled a smile. "I have use for the rat. It'll be caught when the time's right, and that's all you need to know for now."
Sirius's eyes narrowed. "Use? Aren't you worried that a murderer's hiding in plain sight with the Weasleys?"
"I said, Black..." Maverick narrowed his eyes, flaring his magic toward the haggard man, making the air grow heavy and tense. "Don't make me lose my patience."
"It's been living with the Weasleys for over a decade now... so a little more time won't make much difference. It'll be caught soon enough. And besides, it's only your word that he's a murderer. So you'd better start talking—and convince me otherwise."
Sirius Black suddenly found it hard to breathe. For the first time, he felt a glimpse of this boy, no, this Archmage's unfathomable magic.
Strong. Ridiculously strong. Even his late father, a Greatmage before he was killed, had never radiated pressure close to what he was feeling now. And he had a sinking feeling this was only a fraction of a fraction of what this kid was truly capable of.
But just as that pressure came, making him feel as if his insides were gripped by an invisible hand, it vanished, allowing him to catch his breath. He took a few gasps, nodded reluctantly, and finally, began to tell his story.
He sighed.
"It all started after I became the Secret-Keeper of the Fidelius Charm for my best friend's home, during Halloween of 1981… back when that mad fuck was terrorizing everyone."
Basically, it was pretty much aligned with the original story Maverick remembered—Sirius had convinced James and Lily to switch the Secret-Keeper to Pettigrew, believing he was the least suspicious choice and that it would throw Voldemort off their trail.
He regrettably recalled never realizing that the rat had already been serving the Dark Lord.
What happened next was that Pettigrew revealed the Potters' location in Godric's Hollow to Voldemort. The Dark Lord went there himself, killed James and Lily… but when he tried to kill baby Harry, the Killing Curse rebounded and destroyed him instead.
Sirius, still unaware of Peter's betrayal, rushed to Godric's Hollow after hearing the news. He found the house in ruins, James and Lily dead… and Harry, somehow, miraculously alive.
He handed Harry over to Hagrid, who had been sent by Dumbledore, trusting the half-giant to take the boy to safety.
It was only afterward that he finally realized the truth—Pettigrew had betrayed them. The Potters' location had only been known to him. And by the time the realization struck, it was already too late... as he regretfully recalled.
Next, he remembered tracking Peter down on a Muggle street—and confronting him.
"The damn traitor..." Sirius muttered with disgust. "After I cornered him, he started shouting nonsense. At the time, I didn't think much of it... but now I realize... it was all to fake his own death."
He spat to the floor with a sharp ptoo! and went on bitterly.
"He screamed accusations... loud, clear, pointing the finger at me. Framed me for betraying my best friend."
"Then the rat, filthy coward that he is, uses a Blasting Hex... kills a dozen Muggles on the spot... then has the gall to slice off his own bloody finger, leave it there like some sick trophy."
He gave a harsh, humorless laugh. "All of it... just to make it look like he died."
"In reality," he muttered, venom rising in his throat, "he turned tail, changed into that damned rat form and vanished in the smoke. And just like that, I became the murderer. Pettigrew dead, Muggles dead, and me standing there... the perfect scapegoat."
"The Ministry people arrived not long after. I remember laughing hysterically amid the wreckage… at Peter, someone I had once considered a friend, for his cruel betrayal."
"I was heartbroken. In truth, I blamed… no, I still blame myself, at least partly, for my best friends' deaths."
"My mind was a mess that day. That's why I never denied being guilty—of betraying the Potters, of murdering Peter Pettigrew, of killing those Muggles. I was the only one there capable of such, so naturally, I became the prime suspect. On top of that, some witnesses heard the rat shouting, blaming everything on me."
"With all that stacked against me, I was sent to Azkaban… without a trial—not that one was offered, nor did I care back then."
"And that's where I spent the last twelve years."
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