As Scabbers surveyed the magnificent castle once more, his eyes no longer held fear but gleamed with greed and calculation.
"Greengrass… I'm so 'grateful' to him!"
"The Dementors have withdrawn, and the Hogsmeade weekend is approaching. That foolish boy from the Weasley family will definitely go to Honeydukes… At that time, a 'lost' but 'lucky' pet being found won't attract too much attention…"
His small mind worked rapidly. "Back to Ron's side… continue being Scabbers… a rat in the Ministry of Magic employee's home… what a perfect cover! I can also hear all kinds of news… waiting for my master to return…"
The immense joy of confirmed safety, combined with the desire for a stable source of food and intelligence, completely overwhelmed his remaining caution.
He was already impatient to return to that warm dormitory, enjoy a double portion of bacon, and then fall asleep peacefully amid Ron's snoring.
These days, he had been living in fear, eating and sleeping rough, which was truly a hardship compared to his comfortable life of more than a decade.
After casting a final glance at the newspaper that had brought him such "good news," Scabbers turned without hesitation, following a familiar route with light, even faintly smug steps, sneaking back in the direction of Gryffindor Tower.
He would stay near the tower, find an excellent hiding place, and wait for the perfect moment to return.
"Time to 'go home.'"
He thought, his broken-toed paw making a faint sound as it stepped on the cold stone, before disappearing into the dark depths of the pipe.
…
Minister Fudge's pride had barely settled when a thunderclap of news came from the Ministry of Magic's Department of Magical Law Enforcement.
The body of Sirius Black, meticulously guarded in a special morgue while awaiting "final disposal," had vanished without a trace.
The Auror on duty swore that no one had entered or left, and that none of the protective magic had been triggered. Yet the "body" covered by a shroud had seemingly evaporated into thin air, leaving only a cold stone slab behind.
Fudge was enjoying afternoon tea when he heard the report.
At that moment, the porcelain cup in his hand crashed to the floor and shattered, and hot tea splashed over his trousers.
"Wh-what?! Missing?!"
Fudge's face instantly turned from rosy to ashen, and large beads of sweat seeped from his temples.
He hurriedly took off his hat, his plump fingers unconsciously twisting the brim of his bowler hat as countless terrifying thoughts flashed through his mind.
Black isn't dead? Someone boldly stole the body? Or is there a traitor within the Ministry of Magic?
No matter which it was, it meant that his "great victory" and the "return to peace in the wizarding world," which he had been boasting about in the Daily Prophet, were about to become a colossal joke.
His political prestige might even plummet because of it.
After a brief moment of panic, a hint of ruthlessness flashed in Fudge's eyes.
His alchemical prosthetic limb slammed onto the table as he issued an order to the head of the Auror Office who had come to report.
"Seal the news! Immediately! Right now! Keep this matter tightly under wraps! It must not be leaked! Especially Dumbledore and that Greengrass must not know a single word!"
He gasped for breath, pacing anxiously back and forth in his office like a trapped beast.
"Listen." He stopped and lowered his voice, his tone carrying undeniable authority. "The official line to the public is this: Black's body has been completely incinerated by the Ministry of Magic, reduced to ashes. Not a single trace remains. Understand? This is top secret!"
As he spoke, he vigorously wiped the cold sweat from his forehead and chin with a handkerchief, as though regaining control of the situation.
"All personnel who know about this, including you, Scrimgeour, are to sign confidentiality agreements immediately and go to the Memory Erasing Room to forget this matter completely."
He paused, and a cunning glint reappeared in his cloudy eyes.
"Also, inform Barnabas. On tomorrow's front page, I want overwhelming coverage of the arrest and imprisonment of that fraud, Gilderoy Lockhart. Describe his miserable state when he was arrested—crying, begging for mercy, soiling his robes. Write it vividly, with the biggest headline: 'Former Hero's Aura Shattered, Mask of Deceit Finally Torn Off.' Furthermore—"
Fudge spoke rapidly, his thoughts unusually clear.
"St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries just got a new Head, didn't it? That… that person… yes, whatever her name is. Add that news as well: 'St. Mungo's Welcomes Innovation, Senior Healer Takes Over as Head.' Use this 'uplifting' news to divert public attention from the Black matter. Do it immediately!"
Rufus Scrimgeour, Head of the Auror Office, maintained a dark expression throughout. His lips were pressed into a thin line, and after listening to the series of orders, he turned and left without a word.
Fudge slumped heavily back into his large Minister's chair, as if the strength had drained from his spine. He wiped away another bead of cold sweat, his eyes flickering.
He had to keep the "disappearance of Black's body" an absolute secret, even if it meant telling an even bigger lie.
…
The lazy afternoon sun streamed through the window, casting warm patches of light across the ward.
Madam Pomfrey had just finished examining Harry and announced with satisfaction that he was recovering quite well.
Good news had been frequent these days, and the most exhilarating of all was undoubtedly that Sirius Black had finally been captured—or, more precisely, killed.
That traitor who had betrayed his parents and turned him into an orphan… was finally dead, ended by Professor Greengrass himself.
It was a pity he had not been able to witness that moment in person, Harry thought with some regret.
Strangely, he had never truly seen this enemy who carried such a deep blood feud.
His impression of Black came almost entirely from the frantic face on the wanted poster and the cold body covered in black cloth in the Daily Prophet a few days earlier.
Oh, and the photograph of his parents that Hagrid had given him—but Sirius in that picture was completely different from the one on the wanted poster.
Not being able to confirm that face with his own eyes, not being able to witness the end of that hatred, a sense of loss inexplicably lingered in Harry's heart.
Several days had passed since the news of Black's death, and the initial surge of vengeful exhilaration had gradually subsided.
Now, his most urgent desire was to leave the hospital bed and return to the vibrant life of the castle.
Harry had no idea that the "body" in the newspaper photograph had already mysteriously disappeared, and that Minister Fudge was currently in a state of agitation over this oversight, busy weaving one lie after another to cover up the truth.
Just then, the ward door burst open with a bang, and Ron rushed in excitedly, his face glowing with uncontrollable excitement as he waved a brand-new copy of the Daily Prophet high in his hand.
"Harry! Harry! Look! Big news! Another big piece of news!" Ron's voice rang out with excitement.
Startled, Harry took the newspaper that still carried the scent of fresh ink. The bold headline on the front page immediately caught his eye:
[Former Hero Captured, Mask of Deceit Finally Torn Off!]
"This is…?" Harry did not react at once.
"Lockhart!" Ron blurted out eagerly, grinning with undisguised schadenfreude. "All his adventure stories were stolen from other people! He's a complete fraud."
"He was caught? How did the Ministry of Magic find out?"
"A Healer at St. Mungo's discovered it. Oh, her name is in the paper," Ron said, pointing at the newspaper and lowering his voice. "She's the one who cured Neville's parents last time, and she's going to be the Head of St. Mungo's."
"So that's it." Harry's mind quickly flashed through Lockhart's flamboyant speeches and those flashy but hollow lessons. Then he suddenly remembered something. "By the way, where's Hermione?"
"Classes, I guess." Ron shrugged. "She's completely mad—won't rest for a second. But she said she'd come to see you after class."
Harry nodded. "Those Dementors outside the school… have they all withdrawn?"
He asked again, since this was one of his greatest concerns.
"They cleared out ages ago!" Ron confirmed cheerfully. "The air feels much fresher."
Harry's thoughts drifted to his Nimbus 2000, and his mood involuntarily sank.
He hesitated for a moment, but still asked, "Malfoy, he…"
"Uh…" Ron's expression became a little subtle. "He's been… well, not very popular in Slytherin recently."
He lowered his voice slightly. "Ever since he saved you on the Quidditch Pitch, the Slytherins seem to think he violated 'house loyalty' or something, and they haven't been very friendly to him."
Harry fell silent for a moment, his mood complicated.
"But Malfoy clearly doesn't care at all," Ron shifted the topic, a hint of amusement in his tone. "Not only that, he even took the opportunity to challenge several people who mocked him. To be honest, he really is a bit different from before, isn't he?"
"Yeah, I think so too, but I need to work harder," Harry said with a smile, a glimmer of light in his eyes. "Otherwise, his duelling points might surpass mine."
"By the way, have I told you?"
Ron suddenly remembered something, his face full of pride as he pulled something out of his pocket. "Look! I also passed the advanced duelling assessment!"
He displayed the brand-new badge in his palm, its intricate patterns glinting silver in the sunlight.
The ward was immediately filled with the excited chatter and laughter of the two boys.
The huge burden named "Black" that had long weighed on Harry's heart seemed to have finally been lifted completely, and he felt that even his breathing had become much easier.
________
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