nyslfriends Chapter 293 The Poisoned Wine That Promised Glory
Chapter 293 The Poisoned Wine That Promised Glory
Chapter 293 The Poisoned Wine That Promised Glory (5K) (1/2)
Peter felt a wave of absurdity and disbelief washing over him as he sat in the dark pocket.
How is that possible?
In Sirius's memory, how could he have killed himself?
He clearly—clearly—blew off his own finger, transformed, and escaped!
Sirius stood there, frozen in shock and anger, and didn't make a move!
Has Sirius gone mad?
Did he hallucinate in extreme anger and grief, "memorizing" things he didn't do in his mind?
Or is there some other force that distorted or even replaced Sirius's memories?
Whatever the reason, the power of this "evidence" is devastating.
A verified true account from the killer himself, recording his crime.
This is an ironclad case!
"This memory," Lynch's voice pulled Peter back from his chaotic thoughts, "is irrefutable evidence of Sirius Black's murder of Peter and his betrayal of the Potters, based on its undeniable authenticity and first-person perspective. It reconstructs the events of the case and completely eliminates all my previous unrealistic suspicions based on logical deduction."
Lynch looked at Harry, his tone apologetic: "Now, Harry, the truth is out. I'm sorry my unfounded speculations did bother you. The accomplice in your parents' murder, and the killer of Peter Pettigrew, is undoubtedly Sirius Black. You no longer need to be confused by this."
Harry remained silent, his grey-green eyes burning with a cold flame against his pale face. His hands, hanging at his sides, clenched involuntarily into fists, his knuckles turning white from the force. The cold wind whipped his black bangs, revealing his famous lightning bolt-shaped scar.
Lynch looked at Harry's clenched fist and understood the pain and anger contained within it.
He stepped forward and placed a hand on Harry's thin shoulder.
That hand was steady and strong, carrying an unquestionable determination.
"I promise you, Harry," Lynch's voice wasn't loud, but it was as hard and cold as tempered steel, clearly reaching the ears of everyone present, "I will find him before those inefficient Aurors in the Ministry of Magic. I will make Sirius Black atone for everything he did."
"Atonement".
This word is like an ice cube thrown into stagnant water, creating silent ripples on a cold platform.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione, including Peter in the pocket, instantly understood the true meaning of the word in the mouth of Lynch, a man nicknamed "The Hangman."
That wasn't an arrest, a trial, or Azkaban's Dementors.
That was a more direct, older, and bloodier end.
Lynch is going to kill Sirius Black!
Peter, hiding deep inside Ron's pocket, could barely suppress a sigh of relief.
Very good!
This dangerous, meddlesome Lynch finally stopped dwelling on those annoying doubts and instead turned his attention entirely to Sirius!
He was even going to do it himself, to solve the problem in the most thorough way! This meant that one of Peter's greatest threats would be eliminated, and by another powerful wizard! A vicious, twisted joy spread through his heart like venom.
However, before this joy could fully take hold of him, Harry's voice rang out, with a hoarseness and determination that was beyond his years, suppressed to the extreme.
"Uncle Lynch—" Harry looked up, meeting Lynch's gaze, his clenched fist trembling slightly, but his eyes were unusually resolute, "If—if you find him first—before you make him atone"—
"Could you—could you bring him to me first?"
Lin Qi's brow twitched almost imperceptibly, which saved him a little trouble.
Harry took a deep breath of the cold air, as if using all his strength, and continued, "I want to ask him myself—look him in the eyes and ask him—why? My parents trusted him so much—they were friends! Why did he betray them? I want to know—what he was thinking!"
This request struck like a bolt of lightning, shattering Peter's newly formed joy.
Bring Black to Harry? For a face-to-face confrontation?!
No! Absolutely not!
Peter froze instantly in his pocket, the malicious joy that had just arisen replaced by a chilling coldness.
Even if Black's memories are confused and distorted, even if he may really "believe" that he killed someone, who can guarantee that when facing Harry directly, under such provocation, Black won't say something he shouldn't say?
Will they not recall certain details that have been frantically covered up?
Even a vague accusation is enough to arouse Lynch and Harry's suspicion!
This risk is too great!
Lynch didn't answer immediately; he stared at Harry, as if weighing the weight behind the request.
Harry looked at Lynch with unwavering eyes.
The only sound on the platform was the howling wind.
A moment later, Lynch tightened his grip on Harry's shoulder slightly, his eyes deep and unfathomable.
"I heard your request, Harry." He didn't immediately agree, but he didn't refuse either, his tone remaining calm. "I will—consider it."
After saying that, he withdrew his hand. "It's cold outside, let's go back inside."
He was the first to push open the wooden door and leave the platform, leaving behind an enigmatic silhouette.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione stayed where they were; the cold wind seemed even more biting.
Ron subconsciously touched his pocket and felt the little creature inside shaking even more violently than before.
"Banban must be freezing," he muttered, his voice carried away by the wind. "Let's go back quickly."
Three figures silently left the platform.
But Peter, in the dark, warm pocket, felt as if he had fallen into an ice cellar.
Lynch's murderous intent had given him a glimmer of safety, but Harry's persistent request brought back an uncontrollable danger. He "died" in Black's memories, but might "live" in a face-to-face confrontation.
This sudden change plunged his recently calmed mind back into a precarious situation.
The illusion of security has been shattered, leaving only deeper anxiety and fear of the unknown.
Lupin stood alone by the window of his office, his gaze fixed on Hagrid's cottage, which was faintly visible in the distance.
The afternoon sun slanted down, but it couldn't dispel the heaviness in his heart.
He knew it was time.
Just now, Harry and his two friends went over there to do one of their daily routines—visit Hagrid O.
And a crucial part of Lynch's plan will soon be initiated by him personally.
No need for planning, just execution.
Lynch's cold, precise analysis, like a script etched in his mind, now echoed word by word: "Based on your description and my observations, Peter's core personality is one of extreme cowardice and a morbid craving for security and 'approval.'"
"Through this period of preparation, we have made it clear to him that Sirius is the only other survivor who knows the truth, and the most fatal flaw in his perfect facade. He is now like a frightened bird, but precisely because of this, his desire for a 'one-size-fits-all' solution will reach its peak."
Lupin's fingertips unconsciously traced the cold windowpane.
He could almost hear Lynch's flat voice continuing, "What you need to do is not just tell him what to do, but let him hear firsthand" a very tempting prospect—what he would gain if he could "heroically" take down Sirius before everyone, especially the Ministry of Magic and those with doubts like myself.
"He will gain unparalleled glory." — These words pierced Lupin's nerves like a cold needle.
He recalled the indifferent expression on Lynch's face when he said those words.
He will transform from a symbol of tragic sacrifice into a living legend who endured twelve years of humiliation and ultimately avenged his dearest friend with his own hands. The Order of Merlin, First Class? That will only be the beginning of his honors. He will be etched in history, revered and grateful by the entire wizarding world, especially—the gratitude of Harry Potter, the boy who survived the Great Calamity. He will forever shed the identity of "the rat," standing in the sunlight as a hero, enjoying the unreserved praise and status he had always dreamed of but never truly possessed.
glory.
status.
Praise.
These words made Lupin feel nauseous.
By exploiting such despicable human nature, they designed such a bait, making him feel as if he were touching the dirtiest swamp.
He recalled Peter's adoring yet cowardly gaze during the time of the marauders; those small moments he once thought were friendship now seemed shrouded in hypocrisy and pathetic in retrospect.
Is he really going to personally promise such "honor" to the murderer who killed James and Lily?
But Lynch's next words immediately extinguished his weak hesitation: "At the same time, he will eliminate the last hidden danger once and for all. Sirius's death means the truth will be completely buried. He will no longer have to live in fear, no longer have to hide in the shadows; he can truly..."
They are "safe" forever.
Safety.
This is the core driving force behind people like Peter.
For his own safety, he was willing to betray everything.
Lupin closed his eyes and took a deep breath.
My chest was churning with nausea, anger, and immense sorrow.
He could almost see James's hearty smile, Lily's gentle green eyes, and Sirius Black's emaciated figure, tortured by Dementors in Azkaban.
These images lashed at him like whips, shattering any lingering reluctance he felt towards the false friendships of the past.
He had to do it for their sake.
In order to seek justice for the dead and to fight for a future for the living that is no longer shrouded in lies, he had to completely lock away his sense of morality and that last bit of false pity for that cowardly little man deep in his heart.
He is no longer Remus Lupin; he is a tool in the plan, a honeyed trap used to lure the snake out of its hole.
Lynch had already chosen the "stage" for him—Hagrid's cabin.
It was a private place where the conversation would feel natural, and it also ensured that Ron would be there with his "pet".
All he needed to do was subtly and gradually slip those carefully crafted words, like poison, into his "natural" conversations with Hagrid and the children.
He cannot lose control.
He had already lost his composure once in front of Harry, and that "expression of true feelings" had worked.
This time, he needed a different kind of "performance"—a "heartfelt voice" that occasionally surfaced after being tormented by pain and hatred for a long time, carrying a bias and strong inclination.
He casually described the "necessity" of Sirius's preemptive death and the extremely tempting "result" it could bring—the "heroic" aura and absolute security that could drive Peter mad.
He wanted to convince Peter that acting first was not just about saving his own life, but about seizing the supreme glory that he had longed for all his life but could never obtain through his own abilities.
Lupin turned around and left the window.
He walked to the mirror and looked at the pale-faced man in the mirror, whose eyes held a resolute determination to make a desperate gamble.
He slowly and deliberately adjusted his expression, gradually suppressing the gentleness and struggle that belonged to Remus Lupin, replacing it with a mixture of exhaustion, deep pain, and a trace of barely perceptible, hatred-driven fortitude.
He knew that what he was about to step into was not just a warm little house, but a battlefield without gunpowder.
He was going to have a conversation, but the only audience was a mouse hidden in his pocket.
Lupin straightened his somewhat worn robe, took a deep breath, as if to leave all his hesitation behind.
it's time.
Go and complete his mission: to offer that traitor this cup of poison called "Glory."
He pushed open the office door and took firm, heavy steps toward Hagrid's cabin.
The sound of Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger arguing fiercely in the hallway could be heard almost throughout the entire courtyard.
Ron's face turned the same color as his hair as he angrily pointed at Crookshanks, who was being held tightly in Hermione's arms, and hoarsely accused him of "brutally" eating his beloved pet mouse Scabbers. Hermione, pale-faced, argued angrily and anxiously, insisting that Crookshanks would never do such a thing and that Scabbers must have run away on its own.
Lupin stood in the shadows not far away, seemingly on his way to the classroom, but in reality, he had overheard the entire argument.
His face bore a trace of the appropriate concern of a professor who cared about his students, but deep down, he was coldly aware of everything.
it has started.
His thoughts instantly drifted back to Hagrid's warm yet subtly menacing cottage a few days earlier.
At that moment, Harry relayed Lynch's promise, tinged with the cold resolve of a "hanger," that he would find Sirius before the Ministry of Magic and have him "atone." In that instant, Lupin clearly saw the pocket of the old robe beside Ron's hand, which was resting on his knee, bulge unnaturally and very slightly.
The timing was too coincidental.
So that subtle movement, like a bolt of lightning, instantly shattered all the chaotic clues in Lupin's mind: Ron's pet mouse that he always carried with him; Lynch's repeated emphasis on Peter's almost pathological obsession with "safety," and his inevitable close surveillance of Harry; all the fragments of the old mouth that had reacted to this topic at that moment were pieced together seamlessly!
斑斑。
Ron Weasley's pet mouse is Peter Pettigrew!
A scorching, almost frenzied killing intent surged up Lu Ping's head, nearly bursting through the dam of his reason.
He could almost feel the stinging pain of his nails digging deep into his palm before he could barely suppress the urge to immediately pull out his wand and unleash the most vicious spell at that dirty pocket.
traitor!
Right in front of you!
One of the masterminds behind the murders of James and Lily, and the culprit who framed Sirius Black and caused him to suffer in Azkaban for twelve years!
How could he—how could he allow this monster to stay with Harry, with the children who trusted him!
But just as his anger was about to consume him, Lynch's cold and stern admonition was like a bucket of cold water, waking him up: "We need solid evidence, Remus." Lynch's voice echoed in his mind, with an undeniable calmness: "Just knowing it isn't enough. We need him to reveal his true colors, we need him to confess his crimes in front of everyone, we need irrefutable proof of Sirius's innocence. Impulsiveness will only destroy everything, allow the real killer to escape again, and forever brand Black as a traitor. Patience is for the final, complete reckoning."
For Sirius.
So that the injustice suffered for those twelve years can be redressed.
Lupin used all the self-control he had ever possessed to forcefully suppress the hatred that was almost tangible, pushing it back to the deepest recesses of his heart. He forced his gaze away from Ron's pocket, forced himself to maintain that expression of being immersed in painful memories, and finished the conversation at Hagrid's hut.
Now, the rift between Ron and Hermione undoubtedly confirms his guess and also proves the success of Lynch's plan.
Peter was tempted.
He was seduced by the lure of "glory" and "complete safety" that "personal revenge" could bring. He was no longer content with merely hiding. He needed action, he needed to eliminate all distractions, he needed to find the perfect excuse to "disappear" in order to carry out his plan. And what could be more natural and less suspicious than "being eaten by an annoying cat"?
This cunning mouse is laying out its escape route.
Lupin watched as Hermione, clutching Crookshank, ran away in tears, while Ron stormed off in the opposite direction, the students who had gathered to watch gradually dispersing. He stood there, silent for a moment.
There was no joy in the success of the plan, only a heavy weariness and a colder resolve.
Peter has already swallowed the poisoned bait.
Next, all that's left is to patiently wait for the poison to take effect, and for him to willingly walk down the path they've carefully laid out for him, the path leading to his true end.
And he, Remus Lupin, will keep watching and waiting for that moment to arrive.
For James, for Lily, for Sirius.
He turned around and continued walking towards the classroom, his back view appearing particularly lonely and resolute in the dim light of the corridor.