The lady who had previously questioned Dylan about the Patronus Charm rose to her feet.
She was a high-ranking official at the Ministry of Magic, the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, a witch named Amelia Bones.
"I have one last question, Black."
Her gaze fell upon Sirius, her voice serious. "How did you escape from Azkaban?"
"According to the information I have, you seem to have escaped the prison on the same day Minister Fudge came to inspect it?"
Amelia Bones took a step forward, her eyes sharp as she stared at Sirius, pressing for an answer.
The wizards present in the courtroom were stunned. This was a question they hadn't even thought to ask. Now that Bones had raised it, every eye in the room turned to Sirius, waiting for his reply.
Sirius looked up, meeting someone's gaze for a fleeting moment. He quickly lowered his head, his fingers rubbing at his cuff, and was silent for a moment before speaking in a hoarse voice.
"It was I who suggested to James all those years ago that Peter Pettigrew be their Secret-Keeper."
"That one stupid act got James and Lily killed."
"For all these years, I've lived with that guilt. When the Aurors captured me, I didn't say a single word in my own defense."
"The bitterness in my heart, the pain of losing my best friends, made me willing to stay in Azkaban. I hoped it would be a form of penance."
He paused, his throat bobbing, and continued, "During that time, my heart was dead. Happiness was something I was completely detached from."
"Because of that, the Dementors had little interest in me. They preferred to crowd around the Death Eaters who gathered in groups, greedily feasting on their souls…"
"Stop changing the subject, Black! Tell us, how did you get out of Azkaban?" Fudge's face tightened. The Dementors in Azkaban not following orders made him furious. He had promised everyone that the Dementors were entirely under the Ministry's control, and now there was a problem.
Sirius glanced at Fudge, a hint of mockery in his tone. "On the day of your inspection, you casually tossed me a copy of the Daily Prophet."
"On that paper, there was a photo of the Weasley family's trip to Egypt. In that picture, I instantly recognized Peter Pettigrew, the rat he'd turned into."
"You made me realize one thing: Peter wasn't dead! In that moment, the fire of vengeance burned inside me…"
Fudge sharply cut off Black. "That's enough, I think that's quite enough."
"I believe the matter is now perfectly clear, and therefore, I declare this Wizengamot session adjourned!"
"Finished!"
He was desperate to end the proceedings.
While changing Black's verdict to innocent was beneficial for him, he had, in fact, received a hefty sum of Galleons from Black before the trial. After all, the Black family still had a great deal of wealth and a substantial fortune. What was wrong with a little something for the Minister of Magic?
If others were to continue questioning Black, it might lead to complications. So, even though there were still a few questionable details, Fudge picked up his gavel.
Thump!
He struck it once, declaring the meeting's end.
---
### A Library of Dark Magic
Dylan, Sirius, and Dumbledore stood together.
Dumbledore looked at Sirius and said with a smile, "That's wonderful. You've finally cleared your name."
"Ah, I think I have Dylan to thank for that. Headmaster, you've produced another fine student."
A look of relief spread across Sirius's face as he turned to Dylan. He had to admit that the things Dylan had done, while they might have seemed insignificant to others, were incredibly useful to him.
Dumbledore then looked at Dylan, reminding him of their arrangement before turning his attention back to Black. "Since you're so grateful to him, why don't you take him to your house for a look around? He loves to read, and he doesn't mind even the most forbidden books."
Dylan's mouth twitched. Old Dumbledore was still finding ways to get him some extra perks before he left, wasn't he? What a truly good old wizard.
Sirius looked at Dylan with a touch of surprise. "That's certainly no problem, but are you sure about this?"
Dumbledore nodded. "Don't worry, Dylan is a good boy."
Sirius considered this for a moment, then nodded.
With that, a flash of fire surrounded Dumbledore, and Fawkes the phoenix appeared, carrying him away in a swirl of flames.
---
### Grimmauld Place
Dylan and Sirius walked out of the Ministry of Magic together. Sirius grabbed Dylan's arm and Apparated with him.
In the next moment, they appeared on a London street. They arrived at Grimmauld Place, where between numbers 11 and 13, a shabby, rotten door suddenly appeared out of thin air. Immediately following, grimy walls and dark windows began to expand, making the house appear as if it had swollen up and squeezed the buildings on either side.
This was Number 12, Grimmauld Place, the ancestral home of the Black family.
Sirius lowered his voice, cautioning Dylan, "Remember, this must be kept a secret from outsiders."
Dylan nodded. He followed Sirius up the crumbling stone steps, his eyes fixed on the door that had just materialized. Its black paint was peeling in large flakes, revealing dark wood beneath that was covered in scratches as if something had been clawing at it repeatedly.
The door knocker was made of tarnished silver and was shaped like a coiling serpent. The gems that served as its eyes had long since lost their shine, making them look eerily lifeless. The door had no keyhole and no letterbox; there was no obvious way to open it.
Sirius pulled his wand from his robe pocket. It was a new one, fresh from Ollivander's: oak, twelve inches long, with a phoenix feather core. He raised it and tapped the door lightly.
Dylan immediately heard a loud clanking sound, mixed with the rattling of chains. Then, with an awful screech, the door slowly swung inward.
Crossing the threshold and stepping into the almost pitch-black hallway, a musty, damp air, mixed with a sickly-sweet scent of decay, rushed out to meet them. It smelled as if something had been left in a dark corner for far too long and had begun to rot.
The place felt like an abandoned house. Everything was silent, as if the air itself had frozen.
Just then, Dylan heard a faint rustling. One by one, the old gas lamps on the wall flickered to life, casting shaky, unnatural light that danced across the hall. The light illuminated the long corridor, revealing strips of wallpaper curling away from the walls and a worn-out carpet with frayed edges that exposed the floorboards underneath.
Above their heads, a cobweb-covered chandelier cast a weak light. On the wall, several portraits hung crookedly in ancient, blackened frames, the faces within too blurry to make out. Dylan also heard a scurrying sound behind the skirting board. The chandelier and a wobbly candelabra on a nearby table were both shaped like large snakes, echoing the door knocker.
A look of nostalgia crossed Sirius's face. He looked up at the ceiling, then let out a cold laugh. "As stuffy as ever. Nothing's changed."
Dylan followed his gaze. A line of text stood out on the ceiling, written in ornate, cursive letters:
The Most Ancient and Noble House of Black, Always Pure.
The grand living room was thick with dust, as if no one had stepped foot in it for years. Dark green moss crept across the surface of the wooden doors, and palm-sized Puffskeins hopped on them, making soft rustling sounds.
Suddenly, a hurried series of footsteps clattered down the staircase. A house-elf came rushing down. It paused for a second when it saw Sirius and Dylan, its large, bulging eyes filling with anger before it began to yell furiously.
"Evil Sirius! You have the nerve to come back! And you brought a filthy Mudblood into my master's house!"
"Oh, my poor old master! If he knew what you've done, he would be heartbroken!"
"Shut up, Kreacher!" Sirius's face darkened, his eyes glinting ominously. "Your mouth is fouler than ever. I think you ought to get a good toothbrush and scrub that disgusting mouth of yours!"
He ordered Kreacher to make them something to eat. It was getting late, and he was starving after a long day. Dylan was probably hungry, too.
He then turned to Dylan. "Don't mind him. His mind is a mess."
"Come on, I'll show you the Black family's library."
Dylan nodded.
The Black family library was on the bottom floor. Even though it was still daytime outside, the room was shrouded in darkness. Sirius had to use a Lumos charm to light up the tip of his wand, illuminating the way. Dylan wasn't bothered, as he could see just fine in the dark.
Sirius used a Scourgify charm to clear away a large cloud of dust at the entrance before leading Dylan into the damp room.
Seven or eight tall bookshelves stood neatly arranged, each one packed with books. The Black family's collection was truly astonishingly vast.
"This is our library. Hmm… I think I remember…"
Sirius waved his wand, and the ceiling of the room lit up. On closer inspection, a familiar line of text glowed on the ceiling:
The Most Ancient and Noble House of Black, Always Pure.
Sirius scoffed dismissively. "Same old rubbish. You'll have to make do. This place is in a worse state than Azkaban. I need to get it sorted out."
Dylan nodded. The place was definitely a chaotic mess. He remembered Sirius mentioning that he wanted Harry to come live here, but in this condition, Sirius would probably be too embarrassed to ask.
The library was eerily quiet. The air was chilly. However, the magical books were enchanted, so there was no need to worry about them rotting or being damaged.
Dylan walked between the bookshelves, occasionally stopping to look at a few books. Even he found a number of fascinating titles. As expected of a family famous for its mastery of the Dark Arts, the sheer number of books on the subject was astounding.
In a forgotten corner, one particular book caught his attention. Its pages were a strange yellowish-greenish-grey, and the material felt like human skin. It was also covered in disgusting greenish spots that didn't look like mold.
Dylan reached out and pulled the book from the shelf. On its cover, a title was scrawled in red liquid:
Advanced Potion-Making.
Wait, no, that's not it. Let's see...
Ultimate Secrets of the Darkest Arts.
The red pigment looked like human blood. Or, perhaps, it was.
As Dylan stared at it, the red letters began to twist and contort. They eventually formed a strange man's face, which let out a raspy, hissing sound.
Hiss…
Dylan tilted his head. The book then floated into the air on its own, still maintaining its grotesque appearance.
In response, Dylan snapped his fingers, activating his Occlumency. His gaze became clearer, shielding him from any mental intrusion the eerie sound might have caused. Having dealt with more than a few snakes in the past, he could clearly understand the meaning of the man-face's hissing.
It was calling his name.
"How interesting," Dylan mused, watching the floating book. He guessed that this copy of Ultimate Secrets of the Darkest Arts was no ordinary book.
Sirius had told him earlier that, aside from books on the Black family history, he could do whatever he wanted with the rest of the Dark Arts collection. He was curious what the Black family ancestors would think if they knew of Sirius's offer. They'd probably be so angry they'd climb right out of their graves.
Dylan glanced up towards the stairs. The portraits of the Black family's ancestors hung there. He hoped they wouldn't find out about Sirius's decision, which was almost a betrayal of everything they stood for.
He imagined the ancestors, braving blizzards and battling through the wilderness to amass this impressive library of Dark Arts, only for a descendant to throw the collection away like weeds.
Dylan shook his head in silent amusement, but his hand didn't stop moving. He pointed his wand, and a stream of magical light surged toward the skin-bound book.
However, the light only left a shallow, black mark on the book's cover. The book itself suffered almost no harm, its "skin" not even scratched.
Time ticked by as Dylan and the floating book remained in a tense standoff.
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