"What?"
Sirius froze, his brow knitting tightly. "I don't understand what you're saying. I blew him to pieces myself."
"He turned into a rat and escaped. He's an unregistered Animagus, isn't he?"
"You... how do you know that?"
"I also know you're an unregistered Animagus too. So was Harry's father."
"Who exactly are you?"
Bernadette continued, "Peter Pettigrew has spent all these years hiding as a rat at the Weasleys' house. These days, he's kept as a pet by the Weasleys' youngest son, Ron — and Ron happens to share a dormitory with Harry."
"In other words, Peter sleeps every night within two meters of Harry. If he ever wanted to, he could kill Harry at any time."
"!!!"
Sirius's heart lurched, and he staggered to his feet, swaying. "Is what you're saying true?"
Then he shook his head. "No — who are you, really, and why tell me all this? What do you want?"
Bernadette was about to answer when a wave of intense cold suddenly swept in from behind her. She turned to find two or three dozen dementors densely floating just outside the cell.
They surged forward in a swarm, reaching skeletal arms toward Bernadette, delivering their happiness-draining "kiss" to her all at once — and in that instant, she felt a wave of nausea wash over her.
No wonder every wizard dreaded the dementor's kiss — even she felt her mood plummet within seconds.
"Expecto Patronum!"
She flicked her wand immediately, sending the silver lizard Patronus racing out once more, straight at the dementors.
In an instant, the ones in front were driven off, scattering in every direction. But as one wave fled, another swarmed right back in, immediately unleashing their kisses again.
Bernadette had no choice but to keep her wand moving, using the Patronus to hold them back continuously.
"That's it for now. I'll tell you the rest next time."
She glanced back at Sirius once, then walked out of the cell.
"Wait..."
Sirius wanted to stop her, but he was caught in the dementors' assault too — even if only at the edge of it, he was already too weak to move so much as a finger.
Bernadette stepped out of the cell, frowning at the dementors still circling, refusing to retreat.
According to the books, dementors were "magical creatures" that had accidentally come into being when a dark wizard named Ekrizdis experimented with dark magic on passing sailors and crewmen. But apart from the Patronus Charm, these things feared no spell — they could only be driven off, never killed.
Just as "unscientific, un-occult" as the magic of this whole world.
"Hmm. I wonder what would happen if I used the Words of Order on them?"
The Words of Order could impose a punishment matching a target's crimes — and the punishment for murder was death. But dementors couldn't be killed.
"You have killed."
"You are guilty."
Bernadette picked out a dementor with a history of killing and spoke the Words of Order at it.
The next instant, a fist-sized burst of white light exploded from within the dementor's body.
"AAAH!!!"
The dementor — supposedly incapable of making any sound — let out a sharp, piercing, frantic scream, dissolving away rapidly amid the expanding white light.
The dementors nearby, sensing the burst of light the moment it appeared, scattered in a panic — but a few didn't get away in time, caught in the light and dissolved as well.
For the first time since their creation, the dementors had encountered the concept of death. For the first time, they realized they, too, could die.
They were afraid.
All they wanted now was to get away — as far as possible.
"Did that work?"
Bernadette murmured to herself. "I wonder if ancient magic would work on them too?"
She raised a hand, about to try ancient magic — when a stunned voice came from behind her: "You... you actually killed a dementor?!"
It was the Hit Wizard, back from his errand, his face full of shock and disbelief, as if he'd witnessed something impossible — which, for a wizard, killing a dementor genuinely was.
Bernadette lowered her hand and shrugged. "They attacked me first. I was just defending myself."
"..."
The Hit Wizard blinked, dazed. Was self-defense even the point here? This was an event that could reasonably be called world-changing for the wizarding community.
"Wait... wait."
Just then, Sirius crawled weakly to the cell door and reached an arm out. "What you said earlier... was any of it true? And — how do you know it?"
Bernadette turned back, a smile suddenly curling at the corner of her mouth. "Harry Potter's godfather told me."
Sirius looked utterly baffled. "???"
"What did you say? Harry's godfather..."
Wait — isn't that me?
"I mean Snape."
Sirius's pupils blew wide open all at once — as if something inside him had just died.
...
Another Monday had rolled around.
With the help of that mirror named Arodes, Klein once again breezed through a whole morning of Battle the Wicked. Honestly, after the initial novelty wore off, Klein hadn't actually wanted to use the mirror to cheat anymore.
After all, with a game like this, cheating outright would drain most of the fun out of it — like a game you really love, where turning on some kind of trainer or exploit might let you dominate everything at first, but eventually you just end up bored and empty.
Card games were even more like that.
Until Christine (Melissa) suggested playing for money.
Klein's competitive spirit surged instantly. If it was about winning money, then who cared about "fun" anymore? Winning money was the fun, honestly.
"Miss Cleya's card skills are way too good."
Ikanser tossed his cards down, patting his pockets and shaking his head. "Ugh. Cleaned out completely."
"Cleaned out" was a bit dramatic — there wasn't much money involved to begin with, since they'd mostly been playing to pass the time, not for high stakes.
"Just good luck, that's all."
Klein's expression stayed neutral. He pulled out his pocket watch and checked it. "Let's call it there for today. I should head back to rest."
To keep his weekly ritual of holing up in his room from 2:30 to 5:00 p.m. every afternoon from raising suspicion — the time slot he needed for the Monday 3 p.m. Tarot Club gathering — Klein had established this habit from day one.
Melissa rubbed her eyes and yawned. "I'll go take a nap too, I think."
"All right, I won't keep you two, then."
Just as Ikanser stood up, Klein suddenly asked, "Mr. Ikanser, today's the third day, isn't it?"
"..."
Ikanser was quiet for a few seconds. "That's right."
"So tomorrow morning, we should be free to leave?"
"In principle, yes. But my suggestion would be..."
Klein cut him off. "Sorry, but I have something important I need to take care of — I don't think I can go along with your suggestion."
He paused, then added, frowning slightly, "Actually, what I'm more curious about is — besides keeping guard around us, doesn't the police have any other way to catch this serial killer?"
Ikanser said, seriously, "These past three days, we haven't stopped working other angles to track him down. It's just... not going smoothly."
Melissa pressed her lips together, saying hesitantly, "Maybe you could try looking for some, well, special kind of help — a detective, perhaps..."
The moment it was out of her mouth, she seemed to catch herself and quickly apologized. "Sorry, I didn't mean the police can't handle it, I just... meant..."
"Actually, we've already put out a reward of up to 2,000 gold pounds. Some of Backlund's well-known private detectives have even teamed up to go after that reward."
"2,000 gold pounds?!"
Klein and Melissa both exclaimed at the same time.
To be continued…
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