After leaving 12 Grimmauld Place, Elara hid nearby.
That night, the Dementors swarmed out—that was what she had been waiting for.
She sold the magical items from the pile of jewelry to a fence, exchanging them for 2000gp.
She kept a purple gemstone pendant and a pair of earrings; they were just ordinary luxury goods, so she tucked them away on her person.
The Aurors had sealed off the area that afternoon—three hours had passed since Sirius had left.
How sluggish.
No wonder they couldn’t catch Sirius.
The power of an Animagus was also the reason he could escape.
Facing the Dementors that were spread all over Britain.
Elara quietly blended in among them; naturally, no one noticed that a Dementor that had gone out for a trip had returned.
Anyway, the Dementors would head to their destinations on their own after communicating with the Ministry of Magic personnel.
It was impossible for anyone to count whether the number had increased or decreased.
Moreover, it was quite obvious that Azkaban would continue to recruit more Dementors.
She had even less reason to worry about her little maneuvers being discovered.
She heard opinions about the purpose of Sirius’s prison break—in their view, was Sirius’s escape this time meant to kill Harry Potter?
That was normal enough.
It was just that she couldn’t help but feel a little worried; some things needed to be accelerated, and she even needed to keep an eye on them in advance.
If the butterfly effect really happened, and she ended up with nothing after all her efforts, that would be terrible.
Make one more profit and then run.
Be greedy when others are fearful.
Various ancient magical artifacts in the wizarding world were basically concentrated in the hands of those old families.
In an era where alchemy was greatly withering, she needed to take advantage of the turbulent times and high prices to rake in as much as possible.
And all of this required her to plan carefully.
The sluggish Ministry of Magic, urged on by Fudge who was determined to perform well, began to operate in full force.
Fudge was so worried he didn’t sleep all night—what if his position as Minister was at stake because of this?
The entire Department of Magical Law Enforcement was mobilized, with ground, aerial, and magical tracking all activated.
Checkpoints were set up, Portkey bans were imposed, and detection spells for invisibility were deployed.
Not only was the The Daily Prophet reissued that very day to carry this headline—without a doubt, it would be an indispensable headline for a long time to come.
Given the danger of Black having previously killed a large number of Muggles, the Ministry of Magic also notified the Muggle Prime Minister and issued a wanted poster as well.
To the Aurors, Fudge personally issued a secret order: no trial needed, execute on the spot.
But publicly, he said: “Black is extremely dangerous; subdue him immediately if he resists.”
Because he was unsure of Harry Potter’s location, the next morning, Fudge personally went to the Three Broomsticks to give a speech.
“Black betrayed the Potters and killed Peter Pettigrew, blowing him up until only a finger remained!
Now he wants to finish what You-Know-Who couldn’t—kill Harley!”
Subsequently, he went directly to find Dumbledore and demanded they protect Harry Potter together.
“Very well,” Dumbledore agreed.
“Then where is he now?”
“He is in a very safe place, and someone will be protecting him.”
“He?”
“That’s right.
Actually, Harry Potter—no, Harley Potter—she is a girl.”
After Fudge left, Deputy Headmistress McGonagall walked quickly into the Headmaster’s office and asked anxiously, “Should we bring Harriet over?”
“No need,” Dumbledore’s deep eyes seemed to see through everything.
“She is very safe there.
However, she should be showing signs of magical awakening by now, shouldn’t she?”
“It should be soon.
Once there is a relatively strong sign of magic, I will start sending her letters.”
Dumbledore said calmly, “Do not send letters to Harley Potter for the time being; we will go there in person when the time comes.”
“Very well, I will arrange it.” McGonagall walked out quickly.
Dumbledore turned to another wall, where there was a portrait of a wizard wearing silver and green robes with a goatee, who seemed to have been eavesdropping on their conversation.
“Phineas, you have a portrait at the House of Black.
I need you to go to 12 Grimmauld Place—perhaps Sirius will return home.”
“Oh, absolutely not, Dumbledore,” Phineas said in a shrill voice.
“There is only an ugly house-elf at Grimmauld Place.
That unfilial descendant shouldn’t be stupid enough to walk right into a trap.”
“Phineas, you must go and check,” Dumbledore said calmly.
“Otherwise—”
Phineas turned reluctantly and disappeared into his frame.
Then came Snape, who had rushed over from home.
His black eyes burned with anger, and his stiff face had turned a deep purple.
“Sirius has escaped?”
“Yes.” Dumbledore was a bit weary but still gathered his energy to communicate with Snape.
“Then Harry Potter should be more careful.
He will definitely come looking for Potter—this is revenge.”
“It is Harriet,” Dumbledore explained.
“What?
It’s a girl?”
There was a pause.
“Really?
Then why does she still have the surname Potter?
She could have easily taken her mother’s surname.” Snape’s tone was no longer so harsh; on the contrary, it had softened.
After speaking, he seemed to realize something and turned his face away.
“I can guard her and lie in wait for that murderer.
Damn it, they actually let that guy spend twelve years comfortably in Azkaban, pampered with good food and drink, and now they’ve let him out to kill Lily’s child.” He paused, his voice dropping a few decibels.
“Calm down, Snape, you need to calm down.
Harriet is very safe now.”
“How about sorting her into my Slytherin when the time comes?
I will make her a qualified witch—not like that incompetent, reckless hoodlum.”
“Snape, everything is up to the Sorting Hat; everything has its destiny.
I am very happy to see that you are not so repulsed by this child.
But we will protect her well.”
Snape slammed the door and left unhappily.
Dumbledore sat wearily in his chair.
After thinking for a moment, he took out a letter, read it again, pondered for a while, then pulled out some parchment from the side and began to write a reply.
—Written to his old friend, Nicolas Flamel.
A letter with a phoenix feather, delivered personally by his companion Fawkes.
“I’m sorry to trouble you, my old friend.”
Subsequently, Phineas returned.
“How was it?” Dumbledore was preparing to go to sleep once he finished this matter.
Phineas wore a strange expression: “Sirius returned—around three in the morning, stayed in the old house for nine hours, and escaped again before the Ministry of Magic could react.
He took some things with him.
What’s truly strange is that he was followed by a Dementor.”
“Are you sure?”
“Of course.
I have repeatedly confirmed it with others as well.
Although some old fogies think one should protect the family’s only descendant, what is there worth protecting about such an unfilial descendant?
In any case, that lingering cold feeling, even though I am just a painting now, I can still feel it.
This murderer is becoming more and more depraved, hanging out with Dementors—no wonder he was able to escape.”
Dumbledore frowned.
Phineas also shut his mouth.
When Dumbledore was thinking, the various headmasters knew to keep quiet so as not to disturb him.
Dumbledore looked out the window: “Sirius, why did you escape?”
At this moment, Elara left the group of Dementors again, drifting silently toward another place.
No one noticed her—who would care about one less Dementor?