“Peter Pettigrew is still alive” — this was the most shocking news Sirius had ever heard.
He clutched the crumpled newspaper tightly, unable to believe the words.
He frantically reread the line with bloodshot eyes, confirming it wasn’t a hallucination.
Peter Pettigrew was still alive.
Yes, he had only left behind a single finger all those years ago.
How could he quell the hatred in his heart without executing him with his own hands?
He couldn’t help but want to laugh — he had actually let such a rat-like creature get away with living for nearly twelve years.
He read the line one more time.
He didn’t know who had sent the message, but he didn’t care.
He only wanted revenge now.
He crumpled the newspaper into a ball and then swallowed it directly.
Come to think of it, his godson must also be at the age to start school by now.
He laughed maniacally, laughing wildly.
The Death Eater imprisoned nearby watched the madman with numbness.
Even when the Ministry of Magic officials stationed there arrived to demand what he was doing, he didn’t stop laughing.
Yet, it did not attract any Dementors.
He was nothing but skin and bones, his skin stretched tight over his cheekbones, his complexion as gray and pale as chalk.
His long, black hair was matted and greasy, covering most of his face.
His eyes were deep-set in their sockets like two black holes.
He had always been silent, as if he were dead.
Often, the guards didn’t know if he was dead, alive, or asleep.
But now, he had come back to life.
His gaze became fierce and sharp once again.
He no longer slept, instead facing the wall and muttering incessantly: “He is still alive, he is still alive!”
The Ministry of Magic officials gradually began to fear this man, only observing the madman from a distance.
Two days later, he received the information he wanted.
At midnight that night, most of the prisoners were already asleep when a cold atmosphere enveloped the area for a moment before receding — the Dementors were changing shifts again.
Then a gust of wind blew in, and another newspaper drifted in.
Black had no interest in investigating who had sent this note, simply opening the newspaper.
It read: “Peter Pettigrew has now turned into a rat.
His location in exchange for a treasure from the House of Black and your Animagus insights.
If you agree, turn into your Animagus form now and go to your house now.”
Two ghost fires seemed to flare up on Black’s skeletal face.
He was now convinced that this news was true; the Animagus form was the trump card he had always kept hidden.
He didn’t waste any more words, turning into a black dog and using his extremely emaciated body to squeeze through the iron bars of the cell.
Then he slipped out of Azkaban.
Behind him, Elara did not rush to follow, but instead floated in front of the sleeping Bellatrix Lestrange and lifted her hood — there were no eyes, only gray, scabbed hollows, and below that, a huge, lipless, black-hole-like mouth that emitted a death-like wheezing sound.
She leaned down, aiming her mouth at Bellatrix Lestrange.
At this moment, Bellatrix Lestrange was startled awake; she looked at everything before her in terror, wanting to resist but to no avail.
Even without seeing, Elara clearly perceived her own ugly and disgusting appearance in Bellatrix Lestrange’s eyes.
Bellatrix Lestrange’s sinful soul was sucked out, leaving behind only an empty shell without a self, without memories, without emotions, and without a future.
The soul vanished forever, irredeemable.
Elara was pleased to see 100gp added to her panel.
[Soul of an Evil Wizard, 100gp]
The price was actually a little less than a wand?
However, it was better not to make too much of a scene.
After the shop took it away, there were some remnants left, which she also collected directly.
She was full now.
One naturally needs to be well-fed before a long journey.
She could perform the Dementors Kiss once a week, so she didn’t linger.
She followed the black dog that had already jumped into the sea and floated away slowly.
A person who had been tormented for over a decade, even when turned into a dog, was still skin and bones.
She estimated the distance; it was about fifty or sixty kilometers from land.
This dog would have to swim for about a day.
Adding the time to travel on land, she didn’t have the time to wait here for this dog to swim slowly.
He really thought of himself as a dog.
The black figure whistled over the sea.
Black thought he had been discovered — the cold air was even colder than the ten-degree seawater.
He dog-paddled and dove into the water.
But he was scooped up by the black figure.
He wanted to struggle, but discovered that this Dementor, which made him feel nauseous and terrified, was actually carrying him toward land.
Black calmed down, but felt it would have been better to just swim in the sea — it was simply life-threatening.
That corpse-like touch made him feel like he was about to die.
But he could only grit his teeth and endure it.
More than an hour later, they arrived at land.
It was already night.
There were about twelve hours left until the next shift of guards came to deliver food and patrol.
Besides the regular Dementor patrols, Azkaban occasionally had shift change errors — after all, the Dementors’ intelligence was quite limited — and there was the daily food delivery by the Ministry of Magic personnel stationed there.
It was usually around noon; how late they were depended on the mood of the patrol.
In other words, she had about twelve hours to go to the House of Black and make a haul.
Then escape before the Ministry of Magic personnel surrounded the House of Black.
They landed on the ground.
The large black dog jumped down with a thud and looked like he had vomited.
Unfortunately, after retching for a long time, nothing came out.
He turned back into a human and demanded directly: “Where is the person behind you?
Tell me where that rat is?”
Although she couldn’t understand human speech, she could now directly understand people’s stronger thoughts.
However, she was still quite cautious about conveying thoughts to others — she had only been a Dementor for a few months.
Elara crouched down and wrote in the sand with her finger:
“First, go to the House of Black, 12 Grimmauld Place, London.
I need an item inside.
Trade that item, and I will tell you the location of that rat.”
“I want the address now.
Who knows if you’re telling the truth?”
Elara could see that Black seemed to want to welsh on the deal and didn’t want to deal with this Dementor.
Now that he had escaped, he was naturally free to fly like a bird.
As for people who weren’t friends with Black, one only had to look at Snape’s fate to know — and they were even classmates.
Then she wouldn’t be polite either.
“I also know the location of your godson.
Do you want to try me?
He’s in a Muggle family right now, and Dumbledore hasn’t sent many people to protect him.” She communicated directly with her consciousness, shocking Black, who had just barely recovered, and causing him to fall to the ground again.
Although Elara figured she shouldn’t deal with the Savior for the time being — who knew if that strange magic would affect her?
She certainly didn’t think she was stronger than Lord Voldemort.
But threatening this expensive godfather’s godson was still acceptable, and it would also serve as a sufficient lesson for him.
Sirius was dizzy for a good while; Elara even thought this expensive godfather was about to pass out, but unexpectedly, he gritted his teeth and cleared his head.
“What?
What is Dumbledore doing?
You monster, if you dare to touch a single hair on my godson’s head — no, if you dare to appear near him, I will kill you.”
A threat lacking conviction.
After all, perhaps Dumbledore could threaten a Dementor, but she didn’t think much of a weak wizard who had been wasted for over a decade and didn’t even have his wand.
It would be better if his good brother Lupin came instead.
In the end, Black agreed humiliatingly.
“You must also follow my instructions.
Otherwise, if I don’t get the item, I will have no choice but to go find the Boy Who Lived.”
Black had already turned back into a dog, just giving an unsatisfied bark to indicate his agreement.
It seemed that turning into a dog made him feel much better, and his mental state was much better too.
“Let’s go.
If we don’t leave now, you’ll be caught and dragged back to Azkaban, and it won’t be as simple as imprisonment then.”
Following Black’s guidance, and with the dark, windy night — she, in her black robes, accompanied by a black dog, flew across the sky in a grand manner without alerting anyone.
She arrived in London very smoothly.
They landed quietly at Grimmauld Place.
Dawn had arrived; they could be discovered at any moment.