infodatos Chapter 300 Successfully "Killed"
Chapter 300 Successfully "Killed"
Chapter 300 Successfully "Killed" (5.2K) (2/2)
"Are you sure, Harry?" Hermione asked in a low voice.
“Of course,” Harry said with a smile. “Go check it out. We’ll meet up again later.”
Ron and Hermione headed toward the quill shop with a sense of relief at having escaped.
Now, only Harry and his meticulous "guardian" remain.
He sighed and resignedly walked toward the Three Broomsticks pub, with Professor McGonagall following him at a distance.
He had hoped to alleviate his inner turmoil through this trip, but the seemingly positive turn of events in his friend's conflict led him into another, even more exhausting and awkward situation.
And the heavy secret and sense of powerlessness about Blake that truly weighed on his heart became even clearer in this environment.
He touched the cold badge in the inside pocket of his robe, feeling its presence and feeling a little more at ease. At least, Uncle Lynch was still protecting him in another way.
To Harry's surprise, Professor McGonagall did follow him into the three brooms, but she didn't stay inside long. She just said something to Professor Flitwick near the bar, and then walked towards him.
She said, "Mr. Potter, I'll be away for a while. You stay here and don't leave the bar. If you need anything, you can ask Professor Flitwick for help."
"Yes, Professor," Harry quickly replied.
Professor McGonagall said no more. She quickly checked the situation inside the bar with her eyes one last time, then turned and left in a hurry.
Harry watched Professor McGonagall leave, finally feeling relieved. The absence of Professor McGonagall's stern gaze made him feel much more at ease.
He found a corner seat, ordered a butterbeer.
But by the time the butterbeer in front of him had completely cooled down, Harry only took a few sips.
He had been sitting in the corner seat of the Three Brooms for almost an hour, and Ron and Hermione hadn't come to find him yet. He didn't want to go out—partly because Professor McGonagall had told him not to leave, but more so because he didn't know what he could do if he went out.
The bar was bustling with noise; the liveliness belonged to others.
He sat there alone, his mind replaying everything about Sirius Black, a sense of powerlessness and suppressed anger clinging to him like vines.
He touched the cold badge inside his robe again. Uncle Lynch's words of advice gave him a faint sense of security, but could not dispel the gloom in his heart.
Finally, he sighed and decided not to wait any longer.
Instead of wasting time alone here, it's better to go out and face reality.
He stood up, ready to leave this noisy space that had nothing to do with him, and go for a walk on the street outside.
Just as he pushed back the chair and turned to face the door, a familiar figure happened to pass by and almost bumped into him.
"Harry?"
Harry looked up and saw Professor Remus Lupin standing in front of him, his face showing a mixture of travel-worn weariness and just the right amount of surprise. He was still wearing that worn-out suit, his hands empty, as if he too had just arrived at the pub.
"Professor Lupin!" Harry exclaimed, somewhat surprised.
"I was just looking for a hot drink to warm myself up," Lupin explained, his gaze sweeping over Harry's barely moved Butterbeer and slightly forlorn expression. "So—you're leaving? Alone?"
"Well," Harry nodded, a little embarrassed to say that he was hiding here alone because he couldn't stand Professor McGonagall's "close supervision," "Ron and Hermione went somewhere else."
Lupin nodded thoughtfully, his gray eyes quickly scanning the noisy bar, especially lingering for a moment on Professor Flitwick, who was seemingly chatting idly near the bar but whose gaze kept occasionally sweeping over them.
He leaned slightly closer to Harry, lowering his voice, "Harry, I have something important to discuss with you, but it's not convenient here. Let's go outside and find a quieter place."
After saying that, without waiting for Harry's response, he gently placed his hand on Harry's back and led him toward the bar entrance.
However, before they even reached the door, a short but agile figure blocked their way—it was Professor Flitwick.
His high-pitched voice carried concern and a hint of determination: "Professor Lupin, where are you taking Mr. Potter? Professor McGonagall specifically instructed me to keep Mr. Potter in the pub." His gaze shifted back and forth between Lupin and Harry.
Lupin immediately put on a gentle expression: "Professor Flitwick, it's just a private conversation, it will only take a few minutes, it's just outside the door." He tried to make his tone sound relaxed.
Professor Flitwick shook his head. Though small in stature, his attitude was firm: "I'm sorry, Professor Lupin. I promised Professor McGonagall. You can talk; I will not eavesdrop."
He assured him, then pointed to a relatively quiet corner near the door: "But it has to be here, within my sight. This is for Potter's safety."
In the bustling bar, Lupin knew that if he persisted, he would only attract more attention and suspicion.
A fleeting, almost imperceptible hint of anxiety crossed his face, but he quickly masked it.
He forced a smile: "Of course, Professor Flitwick, I understand your responsibilities."
He had no choice but to lead Harry to the corner Professor Flitwick indicated, his mind racing as he considered other options.
Just as they settled into the corner, before Lupin could say anything to Harry, the pub door opened again, and Professor McGonagall appeared in the doorway, her sharp gaze landing directly on the three of them.
Clearly, she hadn't gone far and had been patrolling the area around the bar.
"Is there a problem, Professor Flitwick? Professor Lupin?" Professor McGonagall asked as she walked over with steady steps.
Lupin knew this was a crucial moment. He took a deep breath, turned to Professor McGonagall, and said with a mixture of seriousness and unease, "Professor McGonagall, I need to take Harry away for a while to run some errands."
Professor Dumbledore agrees with this.
He invoked Dumbledore's name.
Professor McGonagall narrowed her eyes slightly behind her glasses, scrutinizing Lupin: "Professor Dumbledore agrees? What is it? I remember he wasn't at school today." Her tone was full of suspicion.
"It's something that needs to be kept secret, it concerns—Harry's safety and what will happen next." Lupin met her gaze, trying to make his tone sound honest and urgent. "I can't go into details here, but please trust me, and trust Dumbledore's judgment. It's urgent, I have to take him away now."
Professor McGonagall pressed her lips together, her gaze shifting back and forth between Lupin's resolute face and Harry's somewhat bewildered expression.
She was very reluctant, but Lupin's sincerity, coupled with Dumbledore's agreement, created an irresistible force for her.
After nearly half a minute of silence, she finally nodded very slowly.
"Very well, Professor Lupin. You'd better know what you're doing. I want you to swear on your honor and as a Hogwarts professor that you will protect this boy with your life and bring him back to the castle as quickly and safely as possible."
"I swear," Lupin immediately interjected, his tone resolute and his gaze unwavering. "We might miss the carriage, but rest assured, I will personally escort Harry safely back to the castle. I promise you."
Professor McGonagall gave Lupin another long look, and finally nodded: "Remember your promise." She stepped aside to make way.
Lupin breathed a sigh of relief and immediately gestured for Harry to follow him.
He ignored Professor Flitwick's questioning gaze and led Harry quickly out of the Three Broomsticks pub, disappearing into the crowd on Hogsmeade Street.
Lupin led Harry quickly through several streets, eventually turning into a quiet, deserted alley.
The cold wind whipped up scraps of paper from the ground, which then lashed against the mottled walls.
Lupin stopped, turned around, and looked at Harry with a serious expression.
"Harry," he said, getting straight to the point, his voice low and urgent, "we've found concrete clues that Black might be in the vicinity. He's like a viper in the shadows, and we can't wait for him to strike first. So we've devised a plan, a plan to lure him out."
He stared intently into Harry's eyes and said, word by word, "The core of this plan is you."
We need you as bait, to go alone to a place where he can't resist attacking you.
As bait?!
The word struck Harry like a bolt of lightning.
In an instant, fear gripped his heart, but what followed was an almost burning, long-suppressed ecstasy and resolve!
He could hardly believe his ears—a chance!
Just moments before, I was feeling distressed about my own powerlessness.
And now, an opportunity to avenge his parents has suddenly and unexpectedly presented itself to him in this way!
He no longer had to wait passively, no longer had to endure that feeling of powerlessness. He could take the initiative to do something, to lure out that traitor and watch him be brought to justice!
This is exactly what he wanted!
Without almost any hesitation, Harry abruptly raised his head, his grey-green eyes burning with a resolute, even fanatical, flame. His voice trembled slightly with excitement, but was exceptionally clear: "I agree! Professor Lupin, I do! Tell me what to do!"
Seeing Harry's swift and resolute statement, a complex emotion flashed in Lupin's eyes, but it was quickly concealed.
He nodded, seemingly pleased with Harry's "courage".
Then, he reached into the pocket of his worn-out suit, carefully pulled something out, and handed it to Harry.
The thing wriggled in his palm; it was a gray-black rat that looked somewhat dirty and had sparse fur.
"Scabbers?!" Harry exclaimed, his eyes wide and his mind blank. "It—it's not dead? How is it here with you?" He simply couldn't understand how this rat, which had caused Ron and Hermione to fall out because of its sudden "death," could suddenly reappear alive, especially in Professor Lupin's hands, and at such a crucial moment.
However, what puzzled him even more was why Professor Lu Ping would entrust him with a mouse in such a solemn manner.
Lupin did not answer Harry's question directly; he simply looked intently at Harry and gently placed the now-quiet mouse in Harry's trembling hand.
The rat's cold paws and slight weight sent a chill down Harry's spine.
"Listen, Harry," Lupin's voice held an undeniable seriousness, even a touch of mystery, "this isn't just Scabbers. Treat it like—a talisman. Keep it in your pocket, close to your body. Trust me, as long as it's on you, Sirius—he absolutely cannot harm you."
amulet?
A mouse?
Can it deal with Sirius Black?
Harry was completely confused.
This sounds absurd.
But looking into Professor Lupin's bloodshot yet remarkably determined gray eyes, and remembering that the badge Uncle Lynch had given him also seemed ordinary yet contained magic, he chose to believe.
Perhaps it was a profound magic that he couldn't comprehend.
He nodded vigorously and carefully placed the unusually quiet mouse, Banban, into the right pocket of his robe.
"Alright," Lupin seemed to breathe a sigh of relief. He patted Harry on the shoulder and pointed to the other end of the alley, which led to the desolate hillsides and bushes outside Hogsmeade. "Now, you need to head in that direction alone, as far away and sparsely populated as possible. We'll be hiding nearby, keeping a close eye on you. Remember, stay alert, but don't show that you already know the plan. We'll make our move as soon as Black shows up."
Harry took a deep breath of the cold air, feeling the presence of the two "amulet" in his chest pocket, and a power mixed with fear, excitement, and immense determination filled his body.
He glanced one last time at Professor Lupin, whose face was a mixture of worry and encouragement, then resolutely turned around, strode out of the alley alone, and headed towards the desolate wasteland on the edge of Hogsmeade, covered with winter's bare branches and snow.
His heart was pounding in his chest, and every step felt both heavy and light.
Harry knew danger lay ahead, but he also knew he was walking towards the moment of revenge he had waited twelve years for.
He gripped the wand in his pocket, braving the biting wind, becoming the most crucial bait in this hunt.
Harry walked alone on the desolate hillside outside Hogsmeade, the cold wind howling and blowing his black hair, stirring up the fallen leaves on the ground.
All around, only the creaking of bare tree branches in the wind created an eerie silence.
His heart was pounding, he gripped his wand tightly in his hand, and he watched his surroundings warily, his heart filled with both fear and an almost morbid anticipation.
Suddenly, from behind a pile of huge, snow-covered rocks ahead, a tall, emaciated, and terrifying figure emerged, blocking his path.
The man was dressed in tattered clothes that barely covered his body, with a similarly dirty and worn-out black cloak haphazardly wrapped around his shoulders.
His long, black hair was greasy and matted, hanging down to his shoulders and partially obscuring his face, but what made Harry's heart pound the most were his deep-set gray eyes—they were staring intently at him, churning with extremely complex emotions that Harry couldn't fully comprehend: uncontrollable excitement, deep pain, a burning rage, and a kind of—an almost desperate plea.
This is not the look of a cold-blooded killer at all.
Harry recognized the man almost instantly.
It's Sirius Black!
Harry instantly raised his wand, pointing it directly at the other person, his heart pounding so hard it felt like it would burst out of his chest.
Hatred and long-held fear made his arms tremble slightly, but he forced himself to stand firm.
Black didn't act immediately; he just stared intently at Harry, as if trying to etch him into his soul.
His lips trembled, his chapped lips opening and closing, his voice hoarse like sandpaper scraping, yet carrying a heart-wrenching urgency: "Harry—look at me—listen to me—please—" He took a small step forward, reaching out his hand, a hand as thin as a skeleton.
"Don't come any closer!" Harry yelled, sparks flying from the tip of his staff. "You killed my parents!"
"No! It wasn't me!" Blake's voice suddenly rose, filled with injustice and the pain of twelve years of pent-up emotions. His gray eyes were bloodshot. "It was—"
—
Just as the most crucial name was about to be uttered, a sudden change occurred!
Harry felt a sudden, violent, and unnatural twitching in the right pocket of his robes!
Before he could react, a grayish-black, furry thing darted out of the edge of his pocket at incredible speed and landed on the open ground between Harry and Black.
The thing began to rapidly expand and deform in mid-air—"Bang!"
A muffled thud was accompanied by a faint "crackling" sound as bones stretched.
A short, thinning-haired man dressed in ill-fitting, tattered clothes—Peter Pettigrew—appeared before Black.
The moment it landed and took shape, the carefully concealed wand slid from Peter's tattered sleeve into his hand with astonishing speed, carrying a ruthlessness suppressed for twelve years. He barely aimed, and a blinding red light shot from the tip of the wand—not a deadly green light, for Lupin was still observing from a distance—precisely aimed at Sirius Black's chest, who was right in front of him.
"Bang!"
Sirius's gray eyes, filled with pain and urgency, suddenly widened. Before the turbulent emotions within them could dissipate, he was struck hard by the sudden magical power.
His tall, thin body flew backward like a puppet with its strings cut, crashing heavily into the snow-covered rocks behind him with a dull thud. He then collapsed to the ground, his tattered black cloak billowing out, and he lay motionless, lifeless.
It all happened so fast, from Peter bursting out, transforming, to casting the spell, it only took two or three seconds.
Harry didn't even fully understand what was happening. He only saw the light of the spell, and then the enemy who had made him hate him to the bone and feel inexplicably uneasy just seconds before was lying on the ground, his life hanging in the balance.
His arm, holding the wand, froze in mid-air, his mind blank.
Peter Pettigrew was breathing heavily, his chest heaving.
He stared intently at Sirius Black lying on the ground, as if he couldn't believe he had actually succeeded. Then, an extreme, twisted ecstasy instantly overwhelmed his rat-like face.
He first instinctively shrank his neck, quickly glanced left and right to make sure there were no other threats, then straightened his hunched shoulders, a smug look of "I finally did it" replacing his initial fierceness.
"Ha—haha—" He let out a few short, sharp dry laughs, his voice distorted with excitement.
Twelve years of hiding, disguise, and fear seemed to have been rewarded at this moment.
He, Peter Pettigrew, not only survived, but also "killed" the notorious fugitive Sirius Black at a crucial moment!