Chapter 41 — The Way Ahead
After Peter Pettigrew confessed that he had been the Secret Keeper and that he had betrayed the Potters, a heavy silence filled the room. Lord Black closed his eyes. His chest rose and fell slowly, as if he was trying to stop two different storms inside him.
One storm was relief. His heir, Sirius Black, was innocent. The second storm was rage. His innocent grandson had been locked in Azkaban for years, while the real criminal sat only a few feet away from him.
Madam Tonks was standing beside me with her hand pressed against her mouth. Her shoulders were shaking. Tears pooled in her eyes. Hearing the confession directly from Peter's own lips shattered the last doubt she had carried for so many years. Sirius had not betrayed anyone. He had not sold the Potters out. The world had scorned him, but he had been innocent all along.
Lord Black opened his eyes again. They no longer looked old. They were sharp and furious.
He stepped closer to Peter, who sat limp and dazed under the effects of Veritaserum.
Lord Black asked in a cold, steady voice, "Whom did you betray the Potters to? Whom did you tell the secret?"
Peter answered in a shaking whisper, "The Dark Lord."
Madam Tonks gasped. Kreacher snarled under his breath. Lord Black did not move, but I could see his jaw tightening.
He continued, "Who else knew that you were the Secret Keeper? Who else knew the secret had been changed?"
Peter blinked slowly. "James, Lily, and Sirius Black were the only ones who knew. They switched the Keeper at the last moment. No one else knew."
Lord Black nodded once. His voice dropped even lower. "Sirius Black was charged for killing twelve Muggles while trying to kill you. Who killed them? What all transpired there?"
Peter's reply was calm in that eerie Veritaserum way. "I killed them. I used a Bombarda. After killing them, I cut my finger and turned into a rat. I escaped through the sewer."
Madam Tonks covered her mouth again, but this time she looked sick.
I felt rage swelling inside me. The truth in Peter's words made my hands tremble. He had not only betrayed James and Lily Potter willingly, he also framed Sirius. He had murdered innocent people, Muggles, who had nothing to do with the magical war at all.
When I glanced at Lord Black again, his face showed his anger. I was somewhat confused.
Madam Tonks explained when she saw my confusion. Lord Arcturus Black was a pure-blood supremacist, but not a murderer. He did not hate Muggles as individuals. In his view, wizards and Muggles were simply two different races living on the same planet. He disliked Muggle-born witches and wizards because they entered the magical world without understanding its traditions, ignored its customs, and tried to force their own ways upon it. But he did not wish harm on Muggles who never crossed into their world.
So hearing that this man, this rat, had blown up innocent people made his rage even sharper.
In his mind, Peter Pettigrew had committed four unforgivable crimes.
He had betrayed his friends, James and Lily.
He had caused their deaths.
He had framed their best friend and Lord Black's grandson.
And then, to escape punishment, he had killed twelve innocent Muggles.
Lord Black opened his eyes again. They were burning with cold fury.
"A rat," he said under his breath. "You were always a coward rat, living and hiding in gutters."
Peter sat silent and empty-eyed, held by the potion, unable to look away.
Madam Tonks wipes her eyes and steps toward her grandfather. Her voice is soft but steady.
"Grandfather, what will we do now? Will Sirius be free?"
Lord Black exhaled and moved back to his high-backed chair and sat without burdens.
"These last few days," he begins, "I made inquiries about Sirius's trial and the procedure followed after his arrest." His jaw tightens. "There was no trial. He was not heard. No evidence was presented. He was just taken straight to Azkaban after arrest."
Andromeda gasps.
"So it is true. Sirius has been in Azkaban without an official sentence?"
"Not just without official sentencing," Lord Black says sharply. "He has not been sentenced at all. Not even in name. His imprisonment is illegal in every law. Wizarding law, Muggle law, ancient law, pick any system and it violates all of them."
His voice shakes with suppressed rage. "So yes, we will demand a trial. Not a retrial. A trial, the first one he was owed for so long."
Madam Tonks asks quietly, "Do we take Pettigrew there?"
Lord Black waves his hand firmly.
"No. We do not show this rat to the world. Not yet."
He looks at the bound, trembling Pettigrew with eyes full of contempt.
"Sirius will be proven innocent under Veritaserum. That is enough. The work of hunting the true culprit is the duty of the DMLE and the Ministry."
His voice hardens.
"Do not speak of this. Not to anyone. Have your Husband and Daughter come here later, I will bind and protect them with oaths and wards so that they won't say anything nor can anyone pry it from their minds easily. Peter Pettigrew does not exist. We are simply a family demanding a fair trial for a wrongly imprisoned member. That is all."
We both nod.
Lord Black continues, "The Ministry will have to grant the trial. If they refuse…" His eyes glint with old power. "They will know the wrath of the House of Black. And even the progressives would not dare defend a man being kept in Azkaban without sentence."
I spoke up to give my suggestion.
"Lord Black, you could make it public. Speak to the Daily Prophet and demand justice loudly. People may dislike Sirius, but everyone will notice when someone has been imprisoned for years without a trial. The Ministry cannot deny you, not without looking afraid of truth."
"And the public will expect a confession from Sirius. They will expect him to say he betrayed the Potters and killed those Muggles. But when he speaks the truth, they will be shocked."
A slow, approving smile pulls at Lord Black's mouth.
"Yes. A very good point, Mr. Dursley. Public perception, even negative, is a tool. Thank you."
Then he straightens in his chair and looks directly at me.
"Now we speak of your compensation. Your reward."
His voice deepens with something older than simple gratitude.
"Arthur Dursley, you have done a great favour to the House of Black. For this, the House shall stand in your debt, of life and death."
My mouth goes dry, but I nod.
He lifts his hand, palm outward, and the air hums with ancient magic, the kind woven into grimoires and whispered in old pure-blood homes. His voice becomes formal, almost ritualistic.
"Let all witness. By right of Lordship and blood of the Ancient and Noble House of Black, I declare a life-debt owed to Arthur Dursley over House Black. In minor matters, he shall have our aid without question. In major matters, those that threaten life or legacy, we shall deliberate and answer with full honor. This word is bound. This promise is sealed."
A cold wind swirls through the room. The lamps flare blue, then burn steady again.
I feel the magic settle over me like a cloak.
Lord Black lowers his hand.
"Is this acceptable to you?"
I swallow and bow my head slightly.
"I am honored, Lord Black. Truly honored."
"So be it," he says.
A faint pulse of magic rolls through the floorboards, sealing the oath in the house itself.
End of Chapter 41 — The Way Ahead