Black scrutinized Augustus, a probing glint in his eyes. "This incident is riddled with inconsistencies. With your intellect, uncovering the flaws wouldn't be difficult. What puzzles me, however, is how you managed to identify this rat's abnormality after it had remained hidden for nearly a decade."
"That's not something I need to explain to you," Augustus replied, seated calmly in his chair, his gaze appraising. "What you do need to understand is this: you are an escaped convict from Azkaban. At any moment, I could ensure your recapture and return to that prison. You'd do well to recognize the precariousness of your current situation."
Black's expression darkened. "Indeed, my actions back then stemmed from a misplaced trust in certain individuals, leading to mistakes I regret deeply to this day. In hindsight, had I been more thorough in investigating the matter, this tragedy might have been avoided. Ultimately, the blame lies solely with me."
Hatred blazed in Harry's eyes like never before. For the first time in his life, he yearned not to defend himself with his wand but to attack—to kill. He surged forward without a clear plan, but two pairs of hands caught him and pulled him back.
"No, Harry!" Hermione whispered fearfully in his ear. Yet Ron, despite his injured leg and pallor, directed his words to Black.
"If you want to kill Harry, you'll have to kill us too!" Ron declared furiously. He wavered on his feet, struggling to stand, clutching Harry for support.
Something flickered in Black's hollow, dark eyes. "Lie down," he said evenly, "or you'll make that leg worse."
"Did you hear me?" Ron retorted weakly, his pain evident but his resolve unshaken.
"There will be only one murder here tonight," Black said quietly, his voice laced with grim amusement.
"Why?" Harry spat, his voice trembling with fury. "Why does it matter now? You didn't care back then, did you? You killed all those Muggles just to get to Peter Pettigrew. What does it matter if you've gone mad in Azkaban?"
"Harry!" Hermione sobbed. "Please, stop!"
"He killed my parents!" Harry bellowed, wrenching free of Ron and Hermione's restraining hands and rushing at Black.
Augustus sighed softly but made no move to intervene. Regardless of the truth behind the events, he recognized that Harry's actions stemmed from his desperate need for closure.
A spark of fire shot from Black's wand, brushing within inches of Harry's face. Despite the searing pain in his arm, Harry clung fiercely to Black, using his free hand to strike blindly at any part of Black's body he could reach.
Black, grunting in pain, released Harry. Ron tackled Black's wand hand, and Harry, spotting his own wand rolling across the floor, lunged for it.
With his wand now aimed squarely at Black's chest, Harry's face twisted in triumphant rage. Black, sprawled against the wall with his chest heaving, met Harry's gaze.
"Are you going to kill me, Harry?" Black murmured softly.
"Yes," Harry hissed, his voice trembling. "You've been waiting for this day, haven't you? To be killed by the son of the people you betrayed. Maybe death at my hands would even be a relief for you."
"You never heard her screams, did you?" Harry's voice cracked. "My mother—begging Voldemort not to kill me. But you betrayed them! You betrayed her!"
For the first time, a pained expression crossed Black's gaunt face. His voice wavered. "Harry, I don't deny my part in your parents' deaths. But if you knew the full truth—"
"The full truth?" Harry repeated, his heart pounding in his ears. "The truth is you betrayed them to Voldemort. That's all I need to know!"
"You must listen to me," Black pleaded, urgency creeping into his voice. "If you don't—if you refuse to understand—you'll regret it."
"I already know more than enough," Harry snapped, his voice shaking even harder.
"Harry, that's enough," Augustus interjected calmly from his chair. His voice carried an air of authority. "The truth may differ from what you've come to believe. And since I'm here, I'll ensure Black receives a fair trial, not some sham of justice. Tonight, don't let hatred blind you. Learn to look beyond the surface to the truth beneath."
Harry's grip on his wand loosened slightly. From the start, Augustus's exchanges with Black had hinted at something unusual. But standing before the man who had allegedly caused his parents' deaths, vengeance burned fiercely within him. To end this now with a single strike felt like justice served. Even Augustus's words failed to extinguish his desire for retribution.
The seconds dragged on as Harry stood motionless, wand aimed. Black stared up at him, his chest rising and falling rapidly. Crookshanks perched on Black's chest, watching intently.
A new sound broke the tension—heavy footsteps echoed from below. Someone was approaching.
"We're here!" Hermione suddenly cried. "We're here—Sirius Black—hurry!"
Black flinched, nearly dislodging Crookshanks. Harry's wand hand twitched violently. Just do it now! A voice screamed in his mind. But the thunderous footsteps grew closer, and Harry hesitated.
Augustus's deep gaze shifted toward the door. Whoever had arrived could be crucial to the unfolding events. If it was someone from the Ministry, such as Cornelius Fudge, everything would spiral into bureaucratic chaos. The truth, whatever it might be, risked being buried forever. Black's potential innocence might never see the light of day.
Whoever was on the other side of the door could very well determine the outcome of this night.
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