booktalesy Chapter 257 Ripples in the Magic World
Chapter 257 Ripples in the Magic World
Chapter 257 Ripples in the Magic World (4.4K) (1/2)
"I don't need exoneration!" Sirius Black abruptly interrupted Lynch, his voice hoarse and filled with an almost obsessive resolve. "I don't care what the world thinks of me! Whether they see me as a Death Eater or a murderer, it doesn't matter! I just want Peter dead! I just want him dead!"
His deep-set grey eyes burned with pure, undisguised murderous intent: "As long as Harry is safe, I'm willing to go to hell with this crime forever! Lynch, let me do what I have to do! Give me a wand, tell me his exact location at Hogwarts, and I can handle the rest!"
Lynch listened quietly to this self-destructive declaration and plea, his light falling calmly on Sirius's face, which was twisted by hatred and pain.
After a moment, he slowly shook his head, his voice not loud, but with an undeniable firmness: "But I cannot accept it."
Seeing the surprise and urgency in Sirius's eyes, Lynch continued, "I know you and James are like brothers, and you are that boy's godfather. I understand your anger and your choice."
He changed the subject slightly, his voice turning cold: "But don't forget, Blake, Lily—is also my best friend."
His gaze seemed to pierce through time, seeing the red-haired girl's warm smile. His voice was deep and clear: "To allow someone who killed her to bear the title of 'hero,' even for just one more day, even if he merely ekes out a living in some dark corner of the world—I will never allow it!"
"That's none of my business!" Sirius roared, like a caged beast desperate to break free of its chains. "I'm not involved in your plans. Your feelings are your problem! I just want Peter dead! Now! Immediately!"
Facing his fiery gaze, Lin Qi replied slowly and deliberately, with a chilling calmness, "That's not up to you."
Lin Qi's words were like a silent fist, slamming heavily into Sirius's chest, instantly choking his surging anger in his throat.
He suddenly came to his senses.
Looking around, the safe house now served as a stark reminder of his predicament—he had been captured by Lynch's men, penniless, and without even a wand.
His freedom and his hope for revenge were now in the hands of the man in front of him.
A feeling of powerlessness welled up inside me, like the cold sand exposed after the tide recedes.
He realized that he had no bargaining power whatsoever.
Rejecting Lynch would mean cutting off the only, and most direct, path to getting closer to Peter.
His tense body seemed to have lost all its strength, his shoulders slumped, and he could only stare intently at the ground, letting out a suppressed gasp from deep in his throat.
Instead of rubbing salt into Sirius's wounds, Lynch changed the subject to a more practical issue: "Also, regarding Harry's safety, I think you don't need to worry too much for the time being."
Upon hearing Harry's name, Sirius Black looked up sharply, casting a questioning and anxious glance. Lynch calmly analyzed, "According to you, Peter has been disguised as a rat, living in the Weasley household. And Ron Weasley, the boy who owns this rat, has been one of Harry's closest friends at Hogwarts since he entered the wizarding world. They were both in Gryffindor, and even lived in the same dormitory."
He leaned forward slightly, his gaze sharp: "Think about it, Black. If Peter's goal was to murder Harry, he would have had countless opportunities over the past two years—in the dormitory, in a secluded corner, using his Animagus powers—to strike. But so far, Harry has remained unharmed. This is enough to prove that Peter's primary purpose in infiltrating Harry's inner circle is probably not to take his life."
"That was before!" Sirius retorted urgently, his fists clenched. "Now I've escaped! News of my breakout must have spread! Peter knows I'm out, he knows I'm here for him! He might do something desperate! He might harm Harry to threaten me or protect himself! You can't guarantee what will happen then!"
Lynch stared at him, then suddenly threw out a sharp question, interrupting his agitation: "So, answer me, Black. In your heart, is Harry's safety more important, or is killing Peter more important?"
Without hesitation, Sirius Black almost instinctively growled, "Harry, of course!"
"That's right!" Lynch's voice suddenly turned stern. "Then you shouldn't have acted rashly with this anger that's useless except for venting! A fugitive from Azkaban, a notorious traitor like you, barging into Hogwarts will only alert Peter, push him to the brink, and potentially cause him to harm Harry in the chaos, or escape again. What other outcome could there be?! Your impulsiveness will only put Harry in a more dangerous situation!"
These words were like a bucket of ice water, making Sirius shudder.
He opened his mouth, but all the arguments about hatred and torment stuck in his throat—because he knew Lynch was right.
His overwhelming sense of responsibility for his son's safety acted like a sharper blade, instantly severing the madness driven by hatred.
He abruptly shut his mouth, turned his face away, and swallowed all his resentment and lingering fear.
Seeing that Sirius was much calmer than before, Lynch's tone returned to its steady: "So, leave the internal affairs of Hogwarts to me." His tone left no room for argument. "I have my own arrangements. I will ensure that the rat, and any threat he may pose, is under surveillance."
Lynch paused. "And I assure you, Black. Peter Pettigrew—in the end... will be yours. You will end his life with your own hands. This is my promise to you, in the name of the 'Hanger.'"
"Finally..." Sirius repeated the word hoarsely, the anger in his eyes still burning, but no longer out of control. He needed the promise, yet he could hardly bear the torment of waiting.
"When?" he pressed, his voice hoarse. "How long will it take?"
"When the time is right," Lynch said calmly, "when we've set up the stage."
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Having said that, he leaned back on the sofa, his gaze sweeping over Sirius's still thin and taut body. "And your task now, Black, is to recover as quickly as possible. Eat well, sleep well, so that your hand won't tremble when you pick up your wand again." A glint of something unfathomable flashed in his deep eyes. "I'm still waiting for you—to take the stage."
After finishing their interrogation of Sirius and instructing the war wizard guarding him to keep a close watch on him, Lynch and Reggie left the magically hidden safe house.
Instead of immediately leaving using Floo Powder or Apparition, they tacitly agreed to walk slowly along a weed-covered dirt path behind the house that led to a nearby grove of trees.
The cool moonlight shone on the winding path, and the only sounds were the chirping of night insects and the occasional soft crunch of twigs underfoot.
A long silence followed between them, accompanied only by the rustling of the night wind through the fields. Finally, Lin Qi spoke first, his voice exceptionally clear in the still night: "When do you plan to tell him your identity?"
His question was direct, referring to the brotherly relationship between Reggie and Sirius.
Reggie paused almost imperceptibly for a moment, then resumed his normal pace.
He remained silent, his gaze fixed on the moonlit road ahead, as if there were extremely complex patterns on it that needed to be deciphered.
A full minute passed before he responded in a low, hoarse voice: "—I don't know."
Lynch didn't look at him or urge him, but calmly said, "This is your own life, Reggie. How you handle this blood relationship is your decision. I won't, and can't, make that decision for you." He paused briefly, his tone becoming more pragmatic, "However, if you ultimately decide to tell him, remember to let me know."
"Understood," Reggie replied in a low, muffled voice.
This was indeed a choice he had to face alone, yet it was an incredibly heavy one.
Another silence fell between them, broken only by the faint sound of footsteps on the earth.
Reggie took a deep breath of the cool night air, as if trying to dispel the sluggish feeling in his chest.
Then, he broke the silence, his voice regaining its usual calm and objectivity as he handled official business, and turned to another urgent topic: "The intelligence from the Ministry of Magic—specifically regarding the Dementors—has been reviewed. There's nothing particularly noteworthy new; it's all information that's already public knowledge or circulating within limited circles. The core issue—how exactly the Ministry of Magic reached that guardianship agreement with the Dementors in the 18th century, the specific terms and constraints—has not been leaked in any records. This secret has been kept extremely tight, far beyond the usual level."
"Which level?" Lin Qi asked directly.
Reggie's answer was concise and certain: "It's probably a top secret that only the Minister of Magic would know."
Lynch gave a soft chuckle, his tone tinged with sarcasm: "Well then, I think the current Mr. Connelly-Fudge probably won't be happy to share the details of this old case with us."
"No, it's true." Reggie echoed hoarsely.
Lynch stopped and turned to face Reggie. The moonlight illuminated half of his face, while the other side remained hidden in shadow.
"So, do you have any feasible ideas? It seems that the roundabout route I initially thought of won't work."
"Not entirely," Reggie objected.
Lynch raised an eyebrow: "Oh?"
Reggie's hoarse voice slowly rang out: "I think there's a direction—maybe we can try. But first, I need to visit someone."
"Who?"
"My cousin."
Reggie's voice was strained, clearly indicating that this kinship was not ordinary, especially given the time when Sirius Black had thrown him into such a state of turmoil.
"Do you need my help?" Lin Qi asked.
Reggie shook his head: "I can do it myself."
"Understood," Lynch said. "Then I'll wait for your good news."
Reggie responded with a low murmur.
The two fell silent, took another step, and disappeared into the deeper darkness of the night. The path curved at the edge of the woods, completely cutting off the view of the hidden safe house.
More than a month has passed since Sirius Black sneaked into London like a ghost and then mysteriously vanished.
Initially, the Ministry of Magic maintained a facade of strength and confidence.
In a public statement a week after the incident, Minister Cornelius-Fudge, despite being sweating profusely, tried to reassure the public: "We are using all available resources to create an inescapable trap. There is absolutely no chance that Black will escape again! The Ministry of Magic has complete control of the situation!"
However, as time went on, this "control" became more and more like an empty joke in the eyes of the public.
The Auror Command Center became the place under the most pressure.
The shadows around the office director Rufus-Scringer's eyes grew heavier, and his temper became increasingly volatile.
His elite Aurors, like headless flies, practically turned England upside down.
All of the Black family’s known and even suspected properties were searched repeatedly, but nothing was found except for 12 Grimmauld Place, which was inaccessible.
Those who might be connected to Blake in his past, whether close or former enemies, were closely monitored and interrogated, but no leads were found.
The police in the Muggle world also took corresponding measures, but finding one person in London with millions of people is like finding a needle in a haystack.
Got nothing.
The word spread like a plague throughout the Ministry of Magic.
Cracks began to appear in the collaboration between departments, with each department shifting responsibility.
The Department of Magical Accidents and Disasters questioned the Auror Office's search strategy; the Department of Magical Law Enforcement complained about the lack of information; and some even began to whisper among themselves that Minister Fudge's incompetent leadership had led to the current situation.
Fudge himself was having an extremely difficult time.
He not only had to face increasingly sharp questions in the Daily Prophet—although the newspaper generally still supported the ministry, it had begun to show signs of discontent—but also had to bear the invisible pressure from within Wizengamor, especially from the faction of that old geezer Dumbledore.
He held frequent emergency meetings, but the conclusions were always similar: continue the search, increase patrols, especially around Hogwarts—even though there was no evidence that Black would go there.
While the Daily Prophet continued to urge the public to remain calm and trust the Ministry of Magic, sharp questions began to emerge between the lines, such as "Why were they able to infiltrate London but not find them?" and "What exactly have they been searching for in a month-long manhunt?"
Journalists like Rita Skeeter began spreading various "insider information" and "expert analyses" on the margins, implying serious dereliction of duty by the Ministry of Magic's higher-ups.
The emotions of ordinary wizards have gradually evolved from simple fear into a mixture of intense unease and distrust.
Parents are afraid to let their children go out alone, which has affected businesses in Diagon Alley.
The number of people traveling at night has decreased sharply.
A prevailing argument emerged that "If the Ministry of Magic can't even catch an escaped prisoner, what can it possibly protect us from?"
Some say Black has escaped abroad using dark magic; others say he has been protected by the remnants of a powerful dark wizard.
Even more bizarrely, some people say that he was secretly executed by a "vigilante" organization, which is why he disappeared completely.
Every rumor is eroding the credibility of the Ministry of Magic's official statements.
What's most unsettling are the Dementors who were sent out to hunt down Sirius.
They became increasingly restless because they couldn't find their target for a long time.
Their patrol range seemed to expand imperceptibly, and even the Muggles who occasionally encountered them could vaguely sense that cold, pleasurable despair.
The Ministry of Magic had to send more officials to "appease" these allies, but everyone knew that the agreement with these creatures was becoming increasingly fragile.
The entire British magical world was shrouded in a peculiar atmosphere: a clear and extremely dangerous threat was clearly present, yet nowhere to be found.
This state of uncertainty is more agonizing than a direct attack.
The Ministry of Magic's credibility is being eroded little by little by these continuous, silent failures.
Almost everyone is asking the same question:
Where is Sirius Black?
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