The Prisoners of Hogwarts

Chapter 246 Interrogation of Sirius

Chapter 246 Interrogation of Sirius Black (5.6K) (2/2)

Hogwarts, deep in the Forbidden Forest, inside a white stone house.

Thortz had returned to the castle. Before leaving, he tidied the firewood in the fireplace to ensure the flames burned steadily. The scent of pine mixed with the aroma of old parchment and herbs wafted slowly through the air of the stone house.

Lynch sat alone in front of the fireplace, his fingertips tracing the passage about Dementors in a thick ancient book, his brow furrowed, immersed in the obscure words.

Suddenly, Lin Qi's thoughts were instantly pulled back to reality.

With a flick of his wrist, a Galon floated above his palm.

With a light tap of his fingertip, Galon's surface shimmered slightly, and Regina's distinctive, flat, hoarse voice rang out: "I've got him under control."

A glint flashed in Lin Qi's eyes, and he immediately asked Galon in a deep voice, "Location?"

At the other end of Galleon, Reggie gave the approximate coordinates of Epping Forest, a suburb of London.

"Stay hidden, I'll be there soon."

The moment the communication ended, Lin Qi slowly closed his eyes.

London, Diagon Alley, top floor of the Stone Tower Merchant Guild.

A window opened silently.

A jet-black raven flew out and disappeared into the London night sky.

In just a few flaps of its wings, the crow's form began to change, inflating as if by inflating itself, its feathers becoming denser and shinier, its body size increasing, and its wingspan widening—in the blink of an eye, it transformed from an ordinary crow into a stronger, faster, and sharper-eyed raven!

The raven's wings burst forth with astonishing power, like a black arrow tearing through the night and shooting straight toward Epping Forest outside London.

Soon, the raven arrived above the Yiping Forest, its sharp gaze, like the most sophisticated detection magic, piercing through the mottled darkness below and scanning every inch of the land.

It quickly locked onto its target—an ancient oak tree with an exceptionally large shape and an unusually dense canopy. An unnatural, seemingly living gray-white mist was silently shrouding its canopy, completely out of place in the clear night surrounding it.

Without a moment's hesitation, the raven adjusted its wings and, like a black leaf blown down by the wind, glided silently over, hovering above the area shrouded in oak mist.

It surveyed its surroundings, not missing a single detail.

Just then, a tiny, firefly-like light flashed briefly in the shadows of the trees below before disappearing.

found it.

The raven immediately swooped down, its movements swift and graceful, weaving through layers of branches and landing precisely where the light had flashed.

Suddenly, the view opened up, and in a natural depression formed by the tangled roots of the giant oak, a low cave entrance appeared before us.

Beside the cave entrance, Reggie, draped in a grey cloak and almost blending into the shadows, stood there like a silent stone statue. At the tip of his wand, a wisp of magical light was slowly fading away—the very same guiding light that had guided him moments before.

The raven folded its wings and landed on the ground in front of Reggie.

The moment it touched the ground, its form changed abruptly. Its feathers contracted, its body stretched, and in the blink of an eye, Lynch was standing on the spot.

"Is someone inside?" Lin Qi asked directly, his gaze fixed on the deep cave entrance.

Reggie didn't answer immediately; a barely perceptible struggle flickered deep within his usually calm gray eyes.

He slightly turned aside to make way for the path to the cave, a simple action that seemed to have taken a lot of his strength.

His hoarse voice sounded even lower than usual: "Inside. In very bad condition."

He stood there, not moving, and didn't look at Lin Qi. His gaze was fixed on the shadows beside the cave, as if he intended for Lin Qi to go in and face the "prisoner" inside.

Lynch keenly noticed Reggie's unusual hesitation and evasion.

He didn't say anything, but simply raised his hand and casually brushed it across his face and body.

There was no wand, no glow of incantation, only extremely subtle magical fluctuations—a hideous mask with a cold, metallic bird's beak covered his face, while a long black trench coat, reaching his ankles, enveloped him like its own shadow, completely concealing his original appearance.

Standing here now is no longer a Hogwarts professor or the mastermind behind the Stone Tower Merchant Guild, but the legendary figure who once struck fear into the hearts of dark wizards during the Dark Ages—the "Mist Hangman."

Having completed his disguise, "The Hangman" didn't hesitate and stepped into the dark cave first. The hem of his black trench coat brushed silently against the ground behind him.

Reggie watched the chilling figure disappear into the shadows of the cave entrance, then froze for a moment, his gray eyes filled with even more struggle. He took a deep breath of the cold forest air, as if needing some kind of strength, before finally taking a step and silently following inside.

The cave wasn't deep, and the air inside was cold and damp. A ball of light hung from the ceiling, emitting a steady white light that dispelled some of the darkness and illuminated the figure in the center of the cave, tightly bound by magical ropes and curled up on the ground.

Sirius Black remained in the form of a black dog, his wet black fur covered in mud and dead leaves, clinging tightly to his skeletal frame.

He seemed to be trembling slightly, whether from the cold or from a deep-seated weariness and despair, it was hard to tell.

When he heard footsteps, and especially felt the sudden, suffocating pressure, he abruptly raised his head. His gaze was instantly captured by the ominous figure who had just entered the cave entrance!

Wearing a metal bird-beak mask and a black trench coat that seemed to absorb all light—this eerie and death-inducing attire, combined with his tangible, icy aura, caused Sirius Black to suddenly stop breathing.

His wild instincts made him fully aware of the terrifying aura emanating from the figure. The black dog's pupils shrank to dangerous pinpoints in extreme fear, and the fur on its body stood on end involuntarily.

All his attention and fear were consumed by the "monster" who had entered first and whose presence was incredibly strong, so much so that he completely ignored the gray-robed man who silently followed him in a moment later.

He stood frozen in place, trying to let out a threatening growl, but could only manage a weak, hoarse sound, his body unable to move due to extreme fear.

The "hanger" stopped a few steps away, his eyes, hidden behind the mask, coldly scrutinizing the dirty, weak, and fear-stiff black figure on the ground.

The moment his gaze fell upon the black dog, a crucial point flashed through Lin Qi's mind like lightning.

Animagus — Unregistered Animagus —

No wonder!

No wonder the Dementors couldn't stop him. Those monsters live by sensing emotions; they can smell human pain and despair. But for a being that can completely transform into an animal and whose mind is to some extent similar to that of an animal, their perception becomes blurred, and they may even ignore the past!

Azkaban's magical protection and anti-Apparition spells may be impenetrable, but they are primarily designed for wizards. The vulnerability lies in a creature that can transform into an animal or even slip away through a drain or between patrols!

A faint, almost knowing, sense of understanding was subtly conveyed through the cold mask.

"I see—a dog. That's why you managed to slip away right under the Dementors' noses." There was even a hint of admiration in his voice. "They can devour pleasure and torment souls, but they're hard to lock onto—a beast that has completely abandoned thought and is driven only by instinct. It's remarkable that you discovered a loophole in Azkaban."

These words were like a bucket of water mixed with ice, poured hard on Sirius's confused mind.

Sirius suddenly raised his head, his eyes no longer showing clear horror, but a chaotic frenzy intertwined with fear, confusion, and fragmented memories.

Animag ———Secret ———Released ———

who is it?

James?

No, James has already—

The confusion in Sirius's eyes was clearly visible, but Lynch did not let him continue in his confusion. That hollow voice, filtered through the mask and devoid of any emotion, like the scraping of cold metal, echoed slowly in the cave once more: "Sirius Black, look at you."

His voice wasn't loud, but every word carried a heavy weight, striking Sirius's taut nerves.

"In the Daily Prophet, you are a vicious murderer, a madman who blew up a street and slaughtered thirteen lives, Voldemort's most loyal and dangerous Death Eater—the first and only threat to escape from Azkaban's impenetrable walls."

The executioner tilted his head slightly, the metal beak gleaming coldly in the dim light.

"But now, what lies before me is nothing but a beast trembling in the mud, unable to even maintain its human form."

These words struck Sirius Black's remaining pride like a whip.

A low sob escaped his throat, and his body began to tremble violently, not out of fear, but from an immense pain and anger stemming from being humiliated, misunderstood, and powerless to defend himself.

"Put away that pathetic animal act, Black." The hangman's voice carried an undeniable command. "I know what you are. An unregistered Animagus. Your fur may fool Dementors, but it won't fool my eyes."

The black dog's body trembled violently, and a short, hoarse whine escaped its throat as it tried to bury its head in its front paws, but to no avail.

"Perhaps you don't know me," the hangman continued, his voice still icy, "but you should have heard others call me—the Mist Hangman."

The name was like a cold wedge, forcibly driven into his chaotic mind.

Fog — hanging — corpse — suspended — some blurry and terrifying images flashed by, mixed with the scattered rumors he had heard during the fight against the Death Eaters, exacerbating his mental turmoil.

He let out a sound that was almost a wail, a gasp filled with fear, and his body instinctively curled back, as if trying to merge into the stone wall behind him.

"I came for you, Black," the hangman said slowly, watching his increasingly pathetic reaction. "Not to carry out a warrant from the Ministry of Magic, but to uncover some old stories buried in the dust. But I have nothing to say to a dog. Turn back, or—we'll end it here."

Confused thoughts clashed in Sirius's mind.

Trust? Trap? Trial?

Or is it just a glimmer of light?

What was that glimmer? Was it—Harry? No, it was James's smile—and Lily's angry green eyes—"Run, Sirius, run!" Who was shouting? Was it James? No, it was Peter—Peter was crying—lots of blood—

Driven by extreme chaos and an indescribable, desperate yearning to "clarify" something, the black fur began to fluctuate and contract erratically, and the bones emitted a teeth-grinding, dislocation sound.

The deformation process was exceptionally difficult and painful, and it almost stopped several times.

Finally, a thin, haggard man, almost unrecognizable, took the place of the black dog, collapsing in the mud, panting heavily. His eyes were vacant, pupils unfocused, his gaze unsteady, his lips trembling as he uttered meaningless syllables: "—Light——Cold——James——No—"

Beneath the gallows mask, Lynch frowned. Looking at Sirius's almost completely out-of-control state, he knew that conventional interrogation was no longer possible.

He must use the sharpest provocation to pry out a sliver of truth from this chaos.

Then he stepped forward, his figure looming over Sirius like a massive shadow, his voice suddenly becoming extremely sharp, like an icicle piercing the depths of the soul: "James Potter and Lily Potter! Did you betray them!?"

This name, like the most malevolent curse, instantly shattered all barriers of chaos!

"ah-!!!!"

Sirius let out a piercing scream that sounded inhuman, his body arching upwards as if struck by an invisible force, only to be tightly bound by the rope.

He shook his head frantically, tears streaming down his face, screaming incoherently, "No! No! It wasn't me! Peter! Rats—squeak—explosion—lots of blood—Lily—James is down—it's my fault! It's all my fault! I killed them! But I didn't! I didn't betray them! I didn't! You believe me! James!"

You have to believe me!!!

Sirius's words were fragmented, a mixture of incoherent phrases and desperate wails. The logic in his speech had completely collapsed, leaving only the most primal emotional outpouring and the eruption of trauma.

He repeatedly banged his head against the ground, oblivious to the blood seeping from his forehead, completely engulfed in a frenzied hysteria.

Lynch silently gazed at the utterly broken soul on the ground.

The look in his eyes behind the mask was serious.

From this extremely chaotic outbreak, he gleaned the most crucial information: he had not betrayed them.

This confirmed my memory.

But looking at Sirius's broken state, it was clear that his mental state was no longer capable of providing a more coherent and reliable testimony, and continuing would only cause his mind to shatter completely.

Lin Qi raised his hand and lightly pressed it against Sirius, who was struggling and self-harming violently on the ground.

A gentle yet irresistible force instantly enveloped Sirius.

His spasms and struggles stopped abruptly, his frantic roar turned into a short gasp, and then his head lolled to the side as he fell into a coma.

The cave fell silent again in an instant, with only the light from the cave ceiling shining steadily, illuminating the unconscious, emaciated body on the ground.

The sudden silence made Reggie's tense nerves tremble.

He remained in the shadows, the light falling in a complex pattern onto the unconscious Sirius.

Looking at that face, which bore some resemblance to his own memory but had become unfamiliar and distorted due to years of pain and torment, and at the furrowed brows and the still-wet blood and mud on his forehead even in his unconscious state, Reggie felt as if something was tightly choking his chest, making it difficult to breathe.

His usual cold demeanor was almost impossible to maintain at this moment. A storm raged deep within his gray eyes: a loathing for his family's destiny, a confusion about past grievances, and a subtle yet sharp pain that even he himself was unwilling to admit.

He forced himself to look away, turning to the figure wearing the bird-beak mask. His hoarse voice, tinged with barely perceptible tension, broke the silence: "What's next—?"

Lynch slowly turned around, the empty eye sockets of his mask facing Reggie, as if he could see through the emotions Reggie was trying so hard to suppress.

The voice coming through the mask was calm and clear: "Find a completely safe and secluded place to house him, keep a close watch on him, and absolutely no mistakes can be made." He paused slightly, then continued, "Then, contact a therapist we trust to prioritize treating his physical trauma and try to stabilize his mental state. He's like a rubble that could collapse at any moment; we must pull him back from the brink of insanity."

"And you," Lynch's gaze seemed to deepen as it landed on Reggie, "after completing the initial arrangements, immediately return to the Stone Tower Merchant Guild. The daily operations of the guild and the First Order cannot be disrupted; you are needed to oversee and ensure everything runs smoothly."

He concluded, "We'll continue once Sirius's condition stabilizes, he's mentally alert enough, and he can communicate effectively. Right now, our priority is to ensure his survival and basic sanity."

As Reggie listened to Lynch's instructions, his clenched fist slowly relaxed.

Lin Qi's clear instructions acted like an anchor, temporarily pulling him out of the vortex of chaotic emotions.

He was silent for a moment, then nodded heavily and replied in a hoarse voice, "Understood."

He looked at Sirius Black lying unconscious on the ground, and immediately took action, waving his wand to cast a spell, preparing to transfer the person to the safe house pre-designated by the First Order.

Suppressing his personal emotions and focusing on executing orders was the state he was most familiar with and the one that allowed him to remain calm over the years.

Lin Qi stood still, his gaze deep beneath the mask, lost in thought.

The outline of the truth seems to be clearer, but the road to the final answer is still shrouded in mystery.

Hogwarts, the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor's office.

The faint morning light struggled to penetrate the heavy glass windows, dispelling the chill that had lingered in the room all night.

Remus Lupin has woken up.

He stood quietly by the window, wearing a slightly worn but clean dressing gown, gazing at the black lake slowly awakening in the morning light. Occasionally, the tentacles of a giant squid lazily grazed the lake, stirring its waves.

The office was quiet, but the cheerful sounds of breakfast preparation could be clearly heard faintly from the auditorium in the distance.

The books on the bookshelf were neatly arranged, and the quill pens sat quietly in the inkwells. Above the fireplace, clouds from a landscape painting drifted slowly by.

A soft "snap" sound.

The house-elf has delivered breakfast to his office.

A simple setup: a pot of steaming black tea, two perfectly toasted slices of bread, a small dish of butter, and a serving of strawberry jam. The portion wasn't large, but for him, it was enough and a satisfying start.

Lupin walked to the table, sat down, and poured himself a cup of hot tea.

The rich aroma of black tea immediately filled the air, mingling with the scent of old books and wood to create a comforting fragrance. He ate his bread slowly and deliberately, enjoying the tranquility of his solitude. His thoughts were more focused on today's lesson—a fun Boggart practice class for the third-year students. He needed to ensure everything was ready, so that the students could learn something while overcoming their fears within a safe and controlled environment.

Beside him, the Daily Prophet was still open that day.

The news of Sirius Black's wanted status remains headline news, but after weeks of development, its impact seems to have subsided into a persistent anxiety, like background noise.

His gaze swept over the frenzied wanted poster photo, and in those gentle eyes, an extremely complex mix of emotions flashed by: the dull pain brought on by the indelible old friendship, the unforgettable anger of being betrayed, the endless grief for the tragic deaths of James and Lily, and a trace—a faint doubt that even he himself did not want to delve into.

This doubt, like the water plants at the bottom of a lake, quietly entwined his heart.

Black escaped. From Azkaban, which was said to be inescapable for anyone.

Where is he now?

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