Chapter 325: Ghost Story

"Huh? Are you joking?" Harry even felt he should laugh a few times, but in this situation, he couldn't bring himself to.

"We all know this is nonsense, but unfortunately, Bellatrix firmly believes this theory and is often deeply troubled by it," Snape sneered again. "The main reason is that the Dark Lord knows you are one of his Horcruxes, yet he cannot say so outright, so he keeps insisting you must be kept alive."

Harry was stunned speechless by this revelation. But gradually, his mind accepted the truth: Bellatrix's guilt whenever she mentioned Delphini's bloodline and abilities stemmed from her belief that there was another brother—equally pure in blood, yet far more powerful—out there.

"I think this can be traced back to the time Bellatrix was pregnant. She often doubted she was the Dark Lord's only woman, because he never poured all his love upon her," Snape said as he paced. "We all know it's because the Dark Lord loves only himself, but Bellatrix indulges in wild fantasies—how ridiculous."

"Bellatrix did things to prove her loyalty, but to little effect. After giving birth to Delphini, her depression deepened, and eventually, she couldn't help but seek help—unfortunately, she chose the stupidest person around: Narcissa."

"Narcissa's mind was filled with complicated love triangles, no doubt from reading too many princess novels in her youth, so she offered the most implausible explanation for the Dark Lord's behavior: she suspected he had once had another woman, and he could never forget her."

"Last summer, she came to me. She asked me to investigate Harry Potter's origins—to find out what truly happened that night. Clearly, she had already tortured Wormtail in Azkaban, but that rat had nothing to say."

"Of course, I still thank you for discovering the Inspiration Charm at school. Without it, I never would have thought to fabricate such a ridiculous tale," Snape paused, forcing a less icy smile. "Think about it—if Wormtail was the one imprisoned, the one meant to die, then where is Sirius?"

The official story claims Sirius disguised himself as Wormtail, but that tale fools no one who has actually spent time in Azkaban.

"That's what Bellatrix has never understood: why was Sirius, who was never a Death Eater, locked in Azkaban—even in a deeper cell than hers? And why, after one left and another entered, did the prisoner become Wormtail? With the Inspiration Charm, my story explains both, and conveniently cleans up Regulus's clumsy lie."

"Words have their limits. Fortunately, Grindelwald's memories gave me much inspiration…" Snape waved his wand, revealing the Pensieve behind the screen. "Come, take a look. Witness the art of memory weaving."

Harry hesitantly plunged his head into the Pensieve, and suddenly, he was thrust back fifteen years—to that terrifying era, to the night before the tragedy.

"James, you hide yourself well," Sirius said, slumped at the bar table, his tone heavy with resignation. "I still want to carry on my family line."

"It's fine," James clapped his shoulder generously. "I have a clever trick to vanish myself. Pretend to join Voldemort for now—he won't find me. When Dumbledore finds that secret weapon, everything will calm down, and we'll meet again."

"Then it's settled. Take care," Sirius picked up his hat and trudged away, dejected.

James's clever trick was, of course, the Fidelius Charm—but between Lupin and Peter, he deliberated and chose the wrong answer.

"Master, I tricked James. He chose me as his Secret-Keeper," Wormtail groveled before Voldemort. "He's in Godric's Hollow. He's hiding there. That boy…"

"You did well," Voldemort's cold, arrogant voice replied. "But I wonder—what if the prophecy comes true? What if my power fails before that little brat?"

"No, you are invincible, never—"

"I need you to do something," Voldemort cut off Wormtail's protest. "As a contingency, I need you to wait in Godric's Hollow."

"After I kill James and his Muggle wife, I will turn on the boy. But if I fail, you must replace the infant," Voldemort said slowly. "I wasn't eager to target Potter—but Cassandra gave birth to my child in June. I named him Saruman."

Wormtail had never heard of this. He stood speechless in shock.

"With that prophecy, Dumbledore will spare no effort to nurture and protect this 'Chosen One,'" Voldemort said smugly. "If I fail, you replace the Potters' child with Saruman."

"I even vaguely look forward to failure. After all, I am immortal; occasional setbacks mean nothing," Voldemort toyed with his wand. "But Dumbledore—he rarely trusts anyone. How would he ever know the 'Chosen One' he so fervently believes in is my own son?"

"Master, you are wise," Wormtail bowed low in agreement.

In an instant, Voldemort sought out another—Regulus.

"Master, I have successfully persuaded my brother. He is willing to join our great cause," Regulus said, clearly delighted.

"Is that so? Good," Voldemort said, emotionless. "I have a task for you—or rather, for both of you. Tonight, kill someone for me."

"Who?" Regulus asked.

"Wormtail. He knows secrets he shouldn't," Voldemort sneered. "And since he betrayed James out of fear of me, someday he may betray me out of fear of Dumbledore."

After accepting the task, Regulus marched home with firm steps and knocked on Sirius's door.

"Brother, are you certain you want to join the Dark Lord?" he asked coldly.

"What else can I do?" Sirius slumped, eyebrows drooping.

"Then tonight, we prepare to kill," Regulus whispered.

"Fine. Whoever it is," Sirius said listlessly. He pulled out a bottle and took a deep gulp. "I expected this."

By evening, the brothers Apparated to the edge of Godric's Hollow. Regulus cast a Disillusionment Charm on himself first.

"Damn it, who are we killing?" Sirius suddenly asked. "Why did you bring me here?"

"Don't worry—it's not James," Regulus knew what his brother feared, so he deliberately concealed the truth.

The brothers stood silent in the valley as dusk fell. Suddenly, a loud crash echoed from afar. Sirius's face changed instantly—he lunged forward.

"Sectumsempra," a cold incantation came from behind him. Sirius froze—his body went limp, unresponsive.

"Wake up, brother," Regulus said, bitter. "If you chose the Dark Lord, there is no turning back."

Sirius's face twisted in conflict—but then he saw a figure: Wormtail. He was clutching an infant, sprinting toward the village's edge, nearing the spot where he could Apparate.

"Kill him. That's who we're killing," Regulus forced Sirius's hand upward. Sirius's face was racked with agony.

When Wormtail saw Sirius, he too froze, bewildered. He slowed his pace, staring blankly at his former friend.

"It's Harry!" Wormtail suddenly screamed. "The Dark Lord's fallen! I saved Harry!"

Sirius's face lit up with unmistakable joy—but Regulus couldn't bear it. "You're lying! Avada—"

Sirius suddenly broke free of the Imperius Curse. He lunged at his brother, grabbing his right hand—the one holding the wand. But Regulus reacted swiftly, his spellcraft superior. With his left hand, he cast a silent Stunning Spell, sending Sirius flying hard backward.

For Wormtail, at that moment, he truly didn't know whom to help.

Yet Sirius, still unaware of Wormtail's betrayal, knew he had to aid the small man—especially since he carried James's child.

"Run!" Sirius shouted, then swung his wand—thick smoke erupted, obscuring Regulus's vision.

"Bastard! Bombarda!" Regulus, enraged, unleashed a massive Explosion Charm, hoping to kill Wormtail and complete the Dark Lord's task.

When the smoke cleared, Sirius, ragged and bleeding, staggered toward the spot where his friend had stood—but he grasped only an empty cradle and a severed finger.

"Ha, ha," Regulus laughed dryly, then hurled a red bolt that knocked Sirius unconscious.

"Foolish brother—you never find your place," Regulus coldly straightened his robes. "Go to Azkaban. At least there, you'll stay alive."