Chapter 127: Dumbledore's Fury
"And it is this filthy thing," Russell said calmly, shaking the cage in front of the former Headmaster Black, "that caused your descendant—Sirius Black—to suffer more than ten years of unjust imprisonment."
He watched with interest as the expression on Black's portrait changed abruptly.
"What did you say?!" Black roared, his entire face pressing up against the canvas as if he wanted to lean out and inspect the creature inside the cage.
"Boy, if you're lying to me, I'll have Dumbledore expel you immediately!"
Realizing he'd lost his composure, he coughed lightly and forced himself back into his usual dignified posture.
"Of course," Russell said with a faint smile, unfazed. "I wouldn't waste time on something like that—I'm a busy man."
"Long time no see, Hat," Russell added casually as he sat down opposite the Sorting Hat, studying it with interest.
"What do you mean 'long time'?" the Sorting Hat grumbled, lifting itself slightly. "We saw each other at the start of term, didn't we?"
It clearly wasn't eager to chat with Russell.
"What a rare guest," a warm voice said. "Russell—I didn't expect you to come here."
Russell turned his head to find Dumbledore already seated behind the desk, smiling gently at him.
"Dumbledore!" Black shouted before Russell could speak. "This boy claims Sirius was framed!"
Despite always calling Sirius the disgrace of the Black family, the mere suggestion that Sirius might have been wronged made Black more anxious than anyone.
"Russell," Dumbledore said, the smile fading as he rose and stepped closer, "is that true?"
"Absolutely, Professor."
Russell handed over the cage.
"You know I've always been interested in Hogwarts' history—especially the period when Voldemort was at his most active."
He gestured toward the cage.
Dumbledore shook his head slightly, signaling that he didn't yet follow—but he didn't interrupt.
"At the time, the Daily Prophet published a report," Russell continued.
"'Fearless hero, James Potter's close friend—Peter Pettigrew—killed by Death Eaters.'"
"The article claimed an entire street was obliterated by an explosion curse. No body was ever found—only a single finger."
Russell smiled faintly, the sarcasm unmistakable.
"I truly don't understand how a curse powerful enough to level an entire street could conveniently leave behind one intact finger. Unless, of course, it was intentionally left as proof of death."
"Because of that," Russell went on, "the Ministry even awarded him the Order of Merlin."
His smile deepened.
"And not long after that, the Weasley family acquired a rat missing one toe. Don't you find it… easy to connect the dots?"
"That's it?" Black bellowed angrily. "That proves nothing! Merlin's beard, boy—this is absurd!"
"Do rats normally live that long?" Russell asked softly.
"Eleven years," he continued. "And forgive me if this sounds impolite, but the Weasley family can hardly afford the sort of rare longevity potions that would keep a rat alive that long."
"As for whether I'm telling the truth…"
Russell turned his gaze to Dumbledore.
"You could simply examine him yourself. Just be careful," he added, tapping the cage lightly with his wand.
"Don't let him escape."
"If what you're saying is true," Dumbledore said quietly, "then rest assured—he won't."
He raised his wand and gently tapped the cage.
The metal bars—reinforced with multiple strengthening charms—suddenly softened, sagging like cloth.
In an instant, a black blur burst from the cage, lunging frantically toward the door.
But without Dumbledore's command, the door did not open.
Realizing escape was impossible that way, the figure immediately changed direction, darting wildly toward another corner of the room.
Dumbledore's expression turned cold.
With no unnecessary movement, Dumbledore merely lifted his wand and tapped the air lightly.
The black shadow froze in place, then was dragged toward Dumbledore by an invisible force.
"An Animagus indeed," Dumbledore said softly. With a gentle flick of his wand, the tiny rat suddenly began to swell in midair.
Its fur twisted violently. Claws curled into withered fingers. The rat's tail retracted into its body, and the hunched shape stretched into the outline of a short man.
Amid a spasm of sickly green light, a balding, pale wizard—missing a finger and radiating cowardice—appeared before them.
"Long time no see, Peter," Dumbledore said calmly.
Russell knew better. Beneath that even tone, Dumbledore was already on the verge of erupting.
"Professor Dumbledore, I—I—" Peter's eyes darted frantically as he searched for a way to beg his way out.
"...Sirius transferred the Secret-Keeper role to me," he blurted out at last. "I was terrified! Voldemort was standing right in front of me—I couldn't resist his magic!"
He suddenly began to sob, fat tears rolling from his eyes and splattering toward the carpet.
Russell reacted instantly, flicking his wand to make the tears vanish in midair.
No need to dirty the Headmaster's carpet.
"Please—please spare me!" Peter pleaded. Seeing that Dumbledore still hadn't spoken and was only watching him with an unfathomably calm gaze, Peter's fear grew unbearable.
Meanwhile, Russell calmly cleaned out the cage—and to his surprise, found a female rat that was still barely alive.
He immediately cast a restorative spell. Green light flashed, and the dying rat sprang back to life, lively once more.
Russell restored the cage to its original state, put the rat back inside, and lifted it up, shaking it gently in front of Peter.
"Peter, look," Russell said cheerfully. "I saved your wife. How are you planning to thank me?"
Cruelty of the mind was worse than cruelty of the body. Peter's eyes turned bloodshot with rage.
"You damned little wizard!" he screamed at Russell. "You actually came up with such a vicious method!"
Then he turned desperately to Dumbledore.
"Professor Dumbledore, arrest this evil brat! He's not human—he's a born Dark Wizard!"
As he spoke, grief overwhelmed him, and he broke down into wailing sobs. The distress seemed genuine enough that even Dumbledore glanced at him again.
"Russell," Dumbledore asked curiously, "what exactly did you do to Peter?"
At the same time, the portraits of former headmasters all leaned forward, ears metaphorically pricked. Aside from bullying Black's portrait, they had little entertainment—none of them were willing to miss this spectacle.
"Nothing much," Russell replied lightly. "I simply helped Peter—who's been single as a rat for over ten years—resolve certain biological needs. With a bit of Love Potion to enhance the mood."
"…Hmm? What?"
Even a battle-hardened Dumbledore froze. In nearly a century of life, he had never encountered this.
The portraits erupted into chatter—some approving, some condemning, some neutral. Only Headmaster Black offered enthusiastic praise.
"Very impressive, boy. Even if you're a Muggle-born wizard, I think you belong in Slytherin. Once Sirius is released, I'll have him thank you personally."
"Much appreciated, Headmaster Black," Russell said with a smile. He wasn't after any reward—he simply felt a visceral revulsion toward Peter Pettigrew.
"Oh, right, Headmaster Dumbledore," Russell added suddenly. "I have a question."
"If Peter mates with an actual rat while transformed, could they produce offspring?"
"Good heavens, Russell—why would you even think of that?" Dumbledore shook his head vigorously, as if trying to shake the thought out of it. "Honestly, I don't know."
"If I could prove that they can produce offspring," Russell mused, "that should earn me another Order of Merlin, shouldn't it?"
"This would be a groundbreaking discovery for the wizarding world—and a major breakthrough in Transfiguration."
He said it with absolute conviction.
"Russell… isn't that a bit too—" Dumbledore hesitated, then sighed.
"Do as you wish. Just don't make this public for now."
After all, Peter was a heinous Death Eater. Let Russell have his way. Perhaps spending too much time with Wednesday had subtly influenced him.
"Goodbye, Professor Dumbledore—and Peter," Russell waved as he left. Then he paused at the door.
"By the way, Professor—this time and last time combined, shouldn't I receive a Hogwarts Special Contribution Award?"
"Of course," Dumbledore agreed.
Satisfied, Russell hummed a tune as he walked away.
Dumbledore didn't entirely believe Russell's explanation of how he'd uncovered Peter—but he didn't dwell on it. At least for now, Russell clearly stood on the side of justice.
Now came the harder question: how to deal with Peter.
Dumbledore let out a long sigh. Sirius had suffered far too long in Azkaban.
It was time—no more delays. Sirius Black's name would be cleared.
---
Russell checked the time and headed for the Great Hall—it was almost dinner.
"Hey, Russell! How's Scabbers?" Ron asked anxiously.
Since Scabbers had been taken away, Ron had been completely distracted—he hadn't even been able to focus on Harry's Quidditch practice.
The moment he spotted Russell, he ran over.
"I'm sorry, Ron," Russell said gravely. "Scabbers isn't coming back. He left this world smiling—at least he had a good time at the end."
The next sentence sent Ron straight into despair.
"Oh… right. I mean—it's fine," Ron forced a smile, heart sinking.
It was just a rat, he told himself.
But Scabbers had been with his family for years. Of course there were feelings.
"This is on me, Ron," Russell said, patting his shoulder. "I'll get you a new pet. How about an owl? You don't have one of your own yet, do you?"
"Really?" Ron's eyes lit up instantly, joy washing away the grief.
Scabbers who?
"Of course," Russell smiled. "When have I ever lied to you? Though you might have to wait until Christmas."
"No problem! No problem at all!" Ron nodded vigorously.
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