Chapter 273

At that moment, a short, stout man appeared—Harry recognized him as the current Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge.

But the Minister now bore none of his usual neat, polished appearance; his formal robes were haphazardly fastened, and through the gaps at hem and collar, his pajamas were visible beneath.

“Where’s Black?” he demanded, visibly agitated.

The onlooker witches and wizards quickly parted to clear a path so he could see Sirius Black lying on the ground.

“Ha! We’ve finally caught Black!” Fudge laughed happily, then quickly remembered something. “Who caught Black?”

The Aurors did not answer; they simply turned their gazes toward Harry, who stood there dazed.

Fudge immediately understood. “Well done, Harry!” He strode forward and slapped Harry hard on the shoulder. “You’ve successfully carried out a splendid revenge!” He whispered quickly into Harry’s ear.

“You’ll soon receive a reward from the Ministry, plus a Second-Class Order of Merlin medal—First-Class is unlikely, but I’ll try to push for it.” Fudge spoke generously; clearly, he’d been under heavy pressure lately, and now he could finally release it.

At that moment, Black on the ground suddenly stirred. Fudge shrieked and instantly ducked behind Harry.

The surrounding Aurors rushed forward, shooting strands of magical ribbon from their wands, binding Black tightly.

Harry finally snapped out of his shock and tried to defend Black again, but no one paid attention—his words were simply too bizarre.

“Child, I know you’ve endured unimaginable events tonight. I believe you’ve been bewitched by Black, that terrible criminal, into losing your wits. Go back, drink a butterbeer, get a good night’s sleep, and tomorrow morning you won’t say such things anymore.” Fudge offered his advice.

Harry tried to argue further, but Fudge had already approached Dumbledore. “Albus, my people will need to stay at Hogwarts for the night. I’ll send for the Dementors to deliver Black his due punishment.”

He quickly realized something was wrong. He turned to an Auror. “A hundred Dementors were stationed nearby, weren’t they? With all this commotion, why haven’t I seen a single one? Don’t they usually flock to crowds?”

Professor Dumbledore finally spoke: “A tremendously powerful lightning spell was cast here—targeting the hundred Dementors gathered here. That spell defeated them all, inflicting severe injuries. They’re likely fleeing now.”

“Defeated a hundred Dementors? Are you sure it wasn’t just a Patronus?” Fudge still doubted.

“A Patronus wouldn’t create such a disturbance. That spell lit up half the sky—that’s precisely why so many people came running.” Professor Dumbledore continued.

Fudge turned his gaze to the Ministry staff present—and indeed, he spotted workers from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

“Yes, we detected a massive magical surge near Hogwarts and rushed over immediately,” the Department staff replied hastily.

Fudge pondered for a moment, then said coldly: “The lightning spell must be investigated further. But also send teams to find the Dementors. They were badly injured, weren’t they? Now there’s a ready-made meal for them.”

Several Ministry staff nearby shuddered as they understood.

“Black must receive his due punishment, to uphold justice,” Fudge declared sternly.

Fudge was in such a hurry to find the Dementors for a reason: the Ministry had executioners for magical creatures, but none for wizards—no wizard would willingly do such a dirty job, for killing another wizard carries harmful consequences in this world.

Thus, the Dementors served as the Ministry’s executioners for wizards. Without them, the Ministry truly had no way to kill Black.

Two Aurors immediately set off to hunt down the fleeing Dementors.

“Black is innocent! Peter Pettigrew...” Harry kept shouting beside them.

He was then forcibly dragged to Hogwarts’ infirmary by Professor McGonagall, along with Hermione and Ron, both unconscious.

Before leaving, Harry heard Fudge and Dumbledore discussing where to imprison Black...

Harry wanted to say something to Professor Dumbledore, but Dumbledore only gave him a long, meaningful look before turning away.

In the infirmary, Madam Pomfrey forced Harry to drink a strange potion, restoring much of his strength—but doing nothing to ease his inner anguish.

“I need to speak with Professor Dumbledore,” Harry told Professor McGonagall as she turned to leave. “It’s extremely important.”

Professor McGonagall turned back, her lips pressed tightly together. She studied Harry for a moment, then said: “I’ll pass it on,” and left.

After giving potions to Hermione and Ron, Madam Pomfrey also left the ward. Harry heard the door lock behind her.

Harry’s heart sank again. Terrifying thoughts flooded his mind—he simply could not accept that Black would die falsely, and in such a horrific way.

But he also clearly understood that no one would easily believe a young wizard’s empty claims.

His mind raced through countless plans, but all were absurd—even one involving Pikachu rescuing Black and breaking out of Hogwarts.

Still, he retained some sense: he abandoned the idea. The plan would only be feasible if he had a hundred Pikachus forming an army.

Just as he was at his wit’s end, Hermione and Ron slowly woke up. Harry quickly told them the situation.

Hermione and Ron grew anxious too, and began brainstorming ways to break the deadlock.

But after much thought, they found no viable solution.

“Even if we had a good idea, what good would it do? We can’t even get out of this room,” Ron said, defeated.

Hermione clenched her teeth, as if making a decision. “Then we’ll have to use it,” she said quickly, reaching into the collar of her robe and pulling out a long, delicate golden chain from beneath.

Harry stared at her, confused, unsure what she intended.

And then, just then, Hermione’s hand froze...

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