"You can't go back to 12 Grimmauld Place for now, as Regulus has already turned it into a safe house. Find somewhere to lie low for a few days first. Wait until the newspapers report on your case tomorrow before making a public appearance. I don't want you being hauled back as an escaped convict the moment you're released," Victor Wick said, his arms crossed.
Sirius paused for a moment before nodding. "Understood..."
Finding a place to stay for a few days—that was something he was good at. He could just find some old shack, transform into a black dog, and sleep for a few days.
It was perfect; in truth, he hadn't had a good night's sleep in years.
Of course... he actually had a better option.
Sirius gripped the photo in his hand, then stepped into the emerald flames of the fireplace and vanished.
Time flew by, and soon it was the next day.
When the morning edition of the Daily Prophet was delivered by the owls, the front-page news shocked everyone.
News regarding Sirius Black dominated the most popular sections of the paper!
"A SHOCKING INJUSTICE! THE TRAITOR WAS SOMEONE ELSE! SIRIUS BLACK WRONGFULLY IMPRISONED FOR ELEVEN YEARS! IS THIS A MORAL DECAY OR A DISTORTION OF HUMANITY?"
"ELEVEN YEARS OF WRONG: IS IT FUDGE'S INCOMPETENCE OR SYSTEMIC FAILURE?"
In Hagrid's hut.
Hagrid knocked over his mug, staring at the newspaper in disbelief. "Sirius isn't the traitor? Peter Pettigrew was? No! I have to talk to Harry about this..."
The Burrow.
Mr. Weasley had just taken a sip of his coffee when he spat it out, staring intensely at the paper. Mrs. Weasley hurried over, thinking something was wrong with the coffee.
"What is it?" Mrs. Weasley asked her husband with concern.
"Molly... we have to go thank Professor Wick immediately!" Mr. Weasley handed her the paper. "He saved our family's lives!"
"What! Ron's rat, Scabbers, is actually Peter Pettigrew?! The real traitor?!"
Mrs. Weasley's face turned pale as she quickly skimmed the report.
Who could have imagined that their child's pet rat was actually a full-blown Death Eater? If he'd had even the slightest ill intention over the years... their children might have died without anyone ever knowing why.
"You're right, Arthur. Our whole family should go and thank Professor Wick!"
In the Hogwarts dungeons.
Snape glanced at the Daily Prophet's headline and sneered, tossing the paper under his cauldron to use as fuel.
"Lucky you, you filthy dog..."
The Great Hall at Hogwarts.
Although Harry and the others had known about this, they didn't know the full details of the incident back then. They were currently huddled around the Gryffindor table, reading the report meticulously, ignoring their breakfast even as it grew cold.
"Professor Wick was the one who discovered all of this, so why isn't his name mentioned in the paper?" Ron whispered.
Harry shook his head. "Professor Wick probably didn't want the spotlight. You know about his past experiences... I think he just wants the wizarding world to forget he exists now..."
Ron sighed softly. "That makes sense. Sigh... if only I were the one who discovered this secret..."
"If it were you, Peter Pettigrew would've turned you into a mouse by now," Hermione Granger said, rolling her eyes.
"Hermione... Professor Wick told you not to say things that undermine our unity!" Ron felt a bit stung by her remark.
Was it so wrong to dream a little? Why did she have to be so intense?
Neville Longbottom didn't say a word, but a strange light flickered in his eyes.
In Quirrell's office.
Quirrell relayed the news to Voldemort.
Voldemort chuckled mockingly. "That rat is despicable, but he's a cowardly creature with a knack for hiding. That old fool Dumbledore is senile; how could he suddenly track that rat down? I suspect... this was Logic's doing!"
"Ah? But Master, you don't have many trustworthy followers left. Isn't Victor Wick weakening us by doing this?"
"It doesn't matter; he's just a rat. If it helps Logic gain more of Dumbledore's trust, then he has served his purpose... By the way, hurry up with the preparations I ordered! Logic's attitude is crucial!"
The Leaky Cauldron.
A destitute middle-aged man silently put down his crust of bread, looking at the newspaper with reddened eyes. "So... you weren't the traitor... I actually blamed you, while that real traitor went free all these years!"
Everyone had a different reaction upon learning about the injustice done to Sirius Black.
Meanwhile, many sharp-witted individuals within the Ministry of Magic guessed that the power structure was about to be reshuffled!
Everyone knew exactly how Minister Fudge had come into power!
But surprisingly, the expected political assault on Fudge didn't happen in the following days.
The factions that usually opposed Fudge were now completely silent, behaving themselves better than ever.
Furthermore, within two days, Fudge made a sincere public apology in the paper for his past mistakes, promising to improve the standard procedures of the Auror Office.
He also managed to raise a large sum of charitable donations from somewhere to build welfare institutions for the wizarding world, catching the attention of many impoverished wizards.
Finally, he opened a 'Minister's Mailbox,' inviting the public to send their opinions. Fudge stated he would read them personally and actively correct his errors.
Instead of hiding his mistakes, Fudge's honest admission and willingness to accept suggestions created a new public persona that gained the favor of the uninformed masses.
Of course, there were articles attacking Fudge, which sparked significant discussion in the wizarding world.
However, after several more days, those reports in the Daily Prophet were suddenly replaced by a surge of eye-catching gossip.
For example, a massive scandal involving a certain pure-blood family, or a scandalous tale between a high-ranking official and his house-elf...
Soon, the discussions criticizing Fudge were gradually buried by the new gossip...
Fudge's once-shaky position as Minister slowly stabilized again.
Victor Wick wasn't interested in any of this; it was all just cleanup work.
Even though many of these things were carried out secretly by the young members of his Knights Templar under his orders.
Of course, the team Gellert Grindelwald had given him really played a key role in this incident...
So, Victor decided to visit the newly inaugurated training center to meet these young people, offer them a grand vision, and give them some encouragement.
Young people were full of passion and loved hearing inspiring words.
Still, breaking the rules occasionally and using strength and momentum to bully others felt quite good. No wonder Voldemort had been so infatuated with it back then...
However, when Victor arrived at the entrance of the training center and saw the crooked sign outside, he almost thought he was in the wrong place.
"Professor, you're here! Please, come in!" Fleur Delacour came running out excitedly to welcome him.
"Wait... aren't you supposed to be at school? How did you just leave?" Victor looked at her in shock.
"What's so hard about leaving Hogwarts?" Fleur blinked her large eyes. "The secret passages those Gryffindor twins know are much bigger! It wasn't hard to get a couple of routes out of them by buying some joke products."
"Fine... well... can I ask you a question?" Victor rubbed his temples.
"Go ahead," Fleur said, looking at Victor attentively.
"I just want to know... why is this training center located... in Knockturn Alley?"
"Didn't you tell us to pick a place we liked? We like it here! You can wrap yourself up tightly without attracting attention, and it's extremely convenient for gathering intelligence... Several of the files you needed were found right here in Knockturn Alley." Fleur stared at Victor with confusion. "Do you not like it here? We can move..."
"No! It's fine!" Victor waved her off.
Truth be told, considering this team's Nurmengard background, setting up shop in Knockturn Alley was actually quite fitting.
Alright, Victor admitted he was finding this team more and more useful.
It gave Victor a brief taste of how the Dark Lord felt back then.
When the Dark Lord used him back in the day, it must have been like this—using him with suspicion, then finding him unexpectedly effective, and finally being unable to let go...
Victor straightened his clothes and followed Fleur through the doors of the training center.
12 Grimmauld Place.
"Is there any news from outside?" Regulus Black sat on the sofa, meticulously wiping his wand with a clean handkerchief.
Kreacher was passing by with a stack of newspapers, seemingly intent on throwing them into the fireplace.
"No... nothing special," Kreacher said, muttering to himself, "Can't tell the young master about Sirius. He's a traitor to the family. The young master finally came back; he can't go following his bad example!"
Kreacher's habit of muttering his inner thoughts aloud had appeared after Regulus's mother went mad.
After her death, the habit had only grown worse...
Consequently, his "inner thoughts" were heard loud and clear by Regulus.
"Give me the paper!" Regulus put down his wand and ordered, eyeing the stack that was nearly in the fire.
"Yes... yes." Kreacher walked over with the papers, looking regretful while muttering, "It's all Kreacher's fault for being too slow. What will the young master think when he sees this news?"
Regulus ignored Kreacher's muttering and skimmed through the papers.
After a long moment, he slowly raised his head, looking at the crackling fire in the hearth. "My foolish brother... to be framed without even putting up a fight! How disappointing."
Regulus stood up abruptly.
"Young Master, where are you going?"
"To bring my foolish brother home, of course."
"But... but he's already been blasted off the Black family tree..."
"No... Kreacher. A member of the House of Black cannot be wrongfully accused for nothing. My foolish brother might not care, but I cannot allow the reputation of the House of Black to be dragged through the mud!" Regulus said sternly.
"Oh! The young master is so wonderful! So responsible! Always keeping the family honor in mind, unlike that man..."
Kreacher looked up at his young master, his eyes filled with nothing but reverent admiration.