Returning the way he had come through the underground passage, Sagres found that the Whomping Willow was still restrained by his spell, frozen in its aggressive posture.
He lifted the spell, and the Whomping Willow's branches gave off a low scraping sound as they drooped down unwillingly, returning to their usual lethargic state.
Sagres did not spare it another glance, instead lowering his gaze to the ground.
The trail of dog paw prints that Professor Flitwick had mistaken for Fang's was still clearly visible under the effect of Footprint Reveal.
Sagres followed the direction in which they led and found that they veered away from the castle and the Quidditch Pitch, pointing straight toward the depths of the Forbidden Forest.
The faintly glowing footprints wound across the damp forest floor, sometimes clear, sometimes disappearing beneath thick layers of rotting leaves.
Sagres followed them at an unhurried pace, noting that after entering the Forbidden Forest, the owner of the footprints had grown more cautious. The stride length shortened, and there were occasional pauses to observe the surroundings, leaving shallower impressions behind.
Deeper within the Forbidden Forest, the light grew dim as towering ancient trees blocked out most of the sunlight.
The occasional cry of birds and the rustling of unseen creatures moving through distant undergrowth, rather than bringing any sense of life, only added to the chilling desolation.
At last, the faintly glowing trail of footprints disappeared beneath a massive beech tree.
At its gnarled roots, a low tree hollow lay concealed by drooping vines, with muddy claw marks clearly leading into the dark opening.
Sagres stopped before the hollow and slowly raised his wand.
"Lumos."
A cold white light bloomed at the tip of his wand, revealing the scene within the tree hollow.
A large black dog was curled in the corner, its fur wet and matted against its body, a low whimper escaping its throat.
Its eyes reflected an amber gleam in the wandlight, wary and exhausted.
Sagres remained motionless, simply watching it in silence.
"Sirius Black," he said slowly, his voice low and certain.
The black dog's pupils contracted sharply, its body tensing as though ready to pounce or bolt at any moment.
"Come out," Sagres continued. "Or I'll invite you out."
His voice echoed clearly through the silent forest.
A deathly stillness filled the tree hollow.
A few seconds later, accompanied by a low, suppressed whine, the large black dog slowly stepped out from the shadows.
It did not immediately run, nor did it show any intent to attack. It halted at the entrance, a threatening growl rumbling in its throat as it fixed Sagres with an unblinking stare, as though judging his intentions and strength.
Sagres met its gaze without expression, his wand not trembling in the slightest.
"Drop the act."
His voice was cold, carrying the weight of a final ultimatum.
"Transform back."
"Woof—!"
The large black dog lowered its body, letting out a short snarl.
In the next instant, it became a blurred black shadow, suddenly darting past Sagres, attempting to break away by using the dense forest terrain.
But Sagres gave him no chance.
"Homorphus!"
A powerful surge of magic swept out at once, and the agile black dog was slammed to the ground.
Its body twisted and expanded in mid-air, and in a blink, it changed into a tall, thin, dishevelled man, who then fell awkwardly onto the mud and rotting leaves.
Sirius, forcibly stripped of his Animagus form, staggered and braced himself against the entrance to the tree hollow, coughing violently.
The constant flight, the harsh conditions, and the sudden, overwhelming magical backlash had nearly drained the last of his strength.
He could not escape.
And he no longer wanted to.
He struggled, propping himself up with trembling arms against the cold tree roots.
His tangled black hair hung like withered grass, yet it could not conceal his pale, gaunt face.
Within those sunken eye sockets, a pair of eyes burned with an almost unhinged fire.
It was a blend of pain, deep-rooted hatred, and despair teetering on the edge of collapse.
He stared intently at Sagres, his voice hoarse.
"Kill me… or throw me to those Dementors…"
He forced a bleak smile, his voice heavy with uncontrollable despair. "But before that… listen to me. You must listen to me!"
Sagres looked down at him and nodded calmly.
"I'm listening."
Those words were like the opening of floodgates.
Sirius, who had only just managed to straighten up, instantly lost what little strength he had left and slumped heavily back against the rough tree roots. A flicker of madness and urgency flashed through his bloodshot eyes.
"I didn't betray James and Lily!"
He whispered, his voice carrying through the Forbidden Forest. "It was Peter. Peter Pettigrew! The Secret-Keeper was changed to him! He's alive! He's the traitor. He's an Animagus!"
Sagres remained expressionless, watching him without a word.
"Continue."
Sirius panted heavily, his trembling fingers pulling a crumpled newspaper from his chest. It was a clipping from the Daily Prophet, prominently featuring a photograph of the Weasley family on holiday in Egypt. Perched on Ron's shoulder was a harmless-looking fat rat.
"Look… look at its front paw," Sirius said hoarsely. "It's missing a toe, isn't it? That's what he deliberately left behind when I was chasing him, when he used an explosive charm to blow up the entire street, faking his death so he could escape."
His fingers shook violently, almost tearing through the fragile clipping.
Sagres's gaze rested on his face for a moment, but there was no obvious change in expression.
"You didn't catch Peter Pettigrew?" Sagres asked calmly. "What about the bloodstains and fur on Ron Weasley's bed?"
"That was him pulling the same trick again!" Sirius's voice was filled with resentment and fury. "Just like twelve years ago, faking his death to escape and fooling everyone!"
Sagres gave a slight nod. This aligned with his suspicions, but now there was a more troublesome issue.
"Your stupidity and arrogance have alerted him," Sagres said coolly. "So now tell me, how do you plan to catch that cunning rat?"
"I…"
Sirius opened his mouth, a surge of anger clogging his throat and leaving him momentarily speechless.
It was indeed a difficult problem. A rat was far too easy to hide.
"Then let me tell you," Sagres said.
Just then—Rustle… crunch…
The sharp sound of dry twigs being stepped on, accompanied by faint human voices, cut through the forest's silence and drew steadily closer.
It was Dumbledore and the professors.
They had just received Noctis's message and were rushing over.
Sirius's face instantly drained of colour, like a startled animal trapped in a snare, as he struggled to force himself upright once more.
Sagres shook his head at him.
"Don't move," he said calmly. "For the truth to come out, I will give you a chance."
"What chance?" Sirius asked nervously. "Can I… can I kill that bastard myself?"
"It's not impossible," Sagres replied briefly. "But first, we have to catch him."
"But they'll probably kill me," Sirius said, glancing at the group of wizards hurrying toward them, his voice dropping. "Or send me to the Dementors…"
Sagres shifted his gaze to the approaching figures, his tone unruffled. "Don't worry. No one will touch a hair on your head without my permission."
Sirius looked up. In his sunken eyes, a faint spark of hope flickered to life with effort.
"Your… your name?" His dry throat worked as he asked instinctively, his voice hoarse.
Sagres tilted his head slightly, his grey eyes flicking toward him before he replied casually, "Sagres."
"Thank you, Sagres," Sirius murmured, his voice tinged with gratitude and fragility. "Thank you… for being willing to believe me."
"Heh." Sagres let out a low, unreadable chuckle, his gaze shifting back to the crowd rushing closer. "I only believe in myself."
As his words fell, all the Legilimency threads quietly withdrew, and the figures of the professors burst into the edge of the forest clearing.
"Stupefy!"
A blinding jet of red light shot from Snape's wand, carrying his pent-up hatred and urgent fury, reaching Black in the blink of an eye.
Sagres lifted his wand and pointed it effortlessly from a distance, and the thick red spell vanished instantly.
He turned to face the surging crowd, his tall figure standing like an unbreakable dam, abruptly halting the tide of anger.
"Let him finish!"
His calm voice echoed through the tense forest clearing, suppressing all other sound.
________
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