Harry Potter: Returning from Hogwarts Legacy Chapter 250

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“Because it wouldn’t do him any good, Hermione,” Lupin concluded. “The Dark Lord is dead, and his master can no longer offer him any rewards or punishnts—because it wasn’t any grand motive that drove him to Voldemort’s side, but simply fear…”

As expected of an old friend of the rat, Lupin’s words hit the mark with precision.

At Lupin’s words, Peter Pettigrew’s teeth began to chatter, clattering loudly in the tense silence.

“I’m afraid we’ll need to summon the Minister of Magic,” Professor Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling as he gazed at Peter Pettigrew. “I’ll have Fawkes deliver a ssage to Cornelius. Let’s hope he’s not already asleep and can make it in ti for… this fine performance.”

Peter Pettigrew’s expression twisted into one of sheer terror. Trembling, he dropped to his knees before Dumbledore.

“Headmaster, Headmaster…” he stamred, pleading desperately. “I don’t want to go to Azkaban—please, I beg you, please…”

Seeing that his words failed to sway Dumbledore, he turned his gaze toward Professor McGonagall.

“Professor McGonagall, how could you bear to see one of your students…”

“I have no such student!” McGonagall roared, her voice fierce like a lioness.

Her heart was truly breaking—she had trusted Peter so deeply, only for the truth to deliver a stinging slap to her face.

This cowardly Peter had betrayed her favorite students!

“Ron, I was a good pet, wasn’t I?” Peter turned to Ron, his voice faltering. “Kind boy, rciful master… you can’t let them send to Azkaban. Save , please, I was your rat…”

Ron’s face contorted with disgust, and he turned away.

rlin’s beard, talk about pouring salt on the wound!

“I hope everyone will keep this matter confidential,” Ron pleaded to the room. “If my brothers find out about this, they’ll tease for the rest of my life… rlin, I was sleeping with a rat…”

Snape, clutching a vial of Veritaserum, allowed the faintest smirk to curl at the corner of his otherwise impassive lips.

“Look on the bright side, Ron,” Harry said. “If it makes you feel any better, didn’t Percy do the sa thing?”

At Harry’s attempt to console him, Ron’s expression softened slightly.

“Well, when you put it that way, I suppose I can live with it,” he muttered.

“But I suspect Fudge won’t be so quick to help us clear up the truth,” Professor Dumbledore added gravely. “As we’ve discussed, he cares more about clinging to his position as Minister of Magic than about principles. The mont things look shaky, he’s ready to bolt.”

“Why?” Ron asked, bewildered. “Isn’t this sothing to celebrate? We’ve finally cleared up a miscarriage of justice! rlin, Sirius has been wrongfully accused for years…”

“That’s exactly why it stings,” Hermione sighed, explaining to Ron. “For the Ministry’s reputation, this is nothing short of a devastating blow. Imagine—an innocent man locked in Azkaban for years for no reason…”

“Was Fudge the one who handled the case back then?” Harry asked suddenly.

“No, it was old Barty Crouch,” Dumbledore replied. “Most of the Death Eaters were tried and convicted under his oversight.”

“Were he and Fudge on good terms?” Harry pressed.

“Not particularly,” Dumbledore said vaguely, his tone evasive.

Harry glanced around the room, his eyes darting from one person to another.

He sidled up to Professor McGonagall and whispered, “Professor McGonagall, do you know anything about the history between Minister Fudge and old Barty Crouch?”

“Oh, child,” McGonagall said, wiping a tear from her eye before launching into an explanation of the old feud between Fudge and Crouch.

Before long, Fudge arrived in the Headmaster’s office.

“Albus,” he greeted, then froze as he took in the crowded room. “Goodness, quite the lively gathering at this hour! Your phoenix’s ssage said there’s progress on the Sirius Black matter?”

“Indeed,” Dumbledore nodded. “It’s all tied to the man before us—Peter Pettigrew.”

Fudge blinked, startled. “Peter Pettigrew? Wasn’t he dead?”

“It seems he faked his death,” Dumbledore explained. “He’s an unregistered Animagus and has been hiding at Hogwarts all these years, posing as a rat and serving as the pet of a certain student who’d prefer to remain unnad.”

At this, Ron hung his head, and Hermione gently pulled him into a comforting embrace.

“We only recently uncovered the truth,” Dumbledore concluded. “In short, the real betrayer of Jas and Lily Potter was Peter Pettigrew. Sirius Black, the so-called Azkaban escapee, is innocent. The charges against him for murdering Muggle bystanders and Pettigrew do not hold.”

Fudge nodded stiffly, glancing at Pettigrew, then at Lupin standing nearby.

“But just because Pettigrew is alive doesn’t prove Black’s innocence, does it?” Fudge said, his brow furrowing.

As expected.

Harry, seeing Fudge’s reluctance, imdiately understood why Dumbledore had spoken so cautiously earlier.

Fudge cared more about capturing the fugitive Sirius Black than admitting the Ministry’s mistake by apprehending Pettigrew.

“I caused the explosion to fra Black,” Pettigrew admitted weakly, still under the effects of Veritaserum. “Only he knew I was Jas and Lily’s Secret-Keeper. If he went to Azkaban, I’d be safe…”

“Words alone can’t clear Black’s na,” Fudge insisted. “You must understand, this is an ironclad case! The Ministry has procedures for overturning convictions, and we can’t rely solely on Pettigrew’s testimony—especially when we haven’t even confird his identity!”

“Hey!” Phineas Nigellus’s portrait began to protest, but Dumbledore swiftly silenced it with a gesture, preventing an outburst that might needlessly provoke Fudge.

“Can’t we prove his identity?” Professor Sprout asked, frowning. “We’re his forr professors. Don’t our testimonies count for anything?”

“The law is the law, dear lady,” Fudge replied, unmoved.

Harry suddenly stood and approached Fudge.

Dumbledore gave Harry a subtle shake of his head, warning him not to do anything reckless.

But Harry flashed a reassuring glance and stepped up to Fudge. “Minister, good evening.”

“Oh, Harry!” Fudge said, rubbing his eyes. “It’s been a tough ti, hasn’t it? Rest assured, my boy, the Ministry will ensure Sirius Black never harms you…”

“Could we speak privately for a mont, Minister?” Harry asked softly.

“Of course, my boy,” Fudge said with a jovial smile, rising to his feet.

They moved to a corner of the room, and Harry spoke first.

“Minister, if I recall correctly, the Sirius Black case was handled by old Barty Crouch, wasn’t it?” Harry asked quietly.

“Yes, my boy, Crouch did oversee Black’s case,” Fudge replied, trying to sound warm, though his brow furrowed slightly at the ntion of Crouch.

Harry caught the shift in Fudge’s expression and pressed on, his confidence growing.

Knowledge he’d gleaned long ago—at Malfoy Manor, a century prior—flooded back to him.

“If I’m not mistaken,” Harry said with a disarming smile, “Crouch once competed with you for the position of Minister, didn’t he?”

Fudge’s face darkened briefly, but he forced a pleasant tone. “That was rely political rivalry, Harry. I still respect Crouch’s character, you know. Why, he even sent his own son, young Barty Crouch, to Azkaban!”

Oh, I know, Harry thought wryly. And it’s exactly that which cost him the Minister’s seat to you. Otherwise, you’d still be dreaming of that office…

Even now, old Barty Crouch remained Fudge’s political rival.

“What an upright man,” Harry said, his tone laced with feigned admiration. “If I were in your shoes, I’d be swayed by his integrity.”

Fudge’s expression soured further at Harry’s words.

But Harry’s next move struck a nerve.

“But that’s impossible, Minister,” Harry said, his tone shifting. “You see, he’s the one responsible for the wrongful conviction of my only family—my godfather—locking him in Azkaban for twelve years. No matter how principled or incorruptible he is, I could never support him…”

This was a political trick he’d learned from Septimus long ago—subtle, unspoken understandings were key.

Saying it outright would make Fudge dig in his heels.

But hinting at it like this…

Fudge’s breathing quickened. He seed to grasp the opportunity.

What did the Ministry’s past mistakes have to do with him? That case was Crouch’s doing—Cornelius Fudge had no say back then. If anyone was to take the bla, it should be Crouch.

Everyone knew you never took the fall yourself—but letting a rival take it?

Even a political novice could see the advantage.

If Crouch bore the weight of this scandal, it would eliminate any chance of him ever challenging Fudge’s position again.

Seeing Fudge waver, Harry pressed further.

“Of course, I know you’ve always put the well-being of ordinary witches and wizards first, never chasing empty glory,” Harry said, his words dripping with flattery. “But if you, Minister, could right this wrong from over a decade ago, the entire wizarding world—Britain and beyond—would see your noble character. To risk the Ministry’s reputation for the sake of truth, to clear the na of an innocent man—what a remarkable and honorable act that would be.”

“And on that day,” Harry continued, warming to his the, “no one would forget that in the Ministry’s offices, there beats a heart full of compassion.”

“Hm… while it may not strictly follow procedure, I believe there’s room for exceptions,” Fudge said, clearly swayed but still clinging to his ministerial decorum.

Yet he hesitated, wary of the potential hit to his reputation.

Harry, sensing this, pushed on. “Perhaps, when this is all settled, you could give a speech in the Great Hall, Minister—sothing about upholding a conscience that puts people first. Inviting a reputable outlet like The Daily Prophet to cover it might not be a bad idea, don’t you think?”

“Quite right, Harry,” Fudge said, his eyes gleaming as he imagined the mont—flowers, applause, and glowing praise from The Daily Prophet, not to ntion the gratitude of the Boy Who Lived.

Harry delivered his final blow, the one to seal Fudge’s resolve.

“I happen to have a friend who’s a unicorn,” he said casually.

No one could resist a unicorn—they only approached those with the purest souls.

To be seen under the flash of caras with a unicorn at his side…

Not even Grindelwald could resist such a temptation.

“Well,” Fudge declared, turning to the room with newfound resolve, “as Minister of Magic, I do have to consider the Ministry’s reputation at tis. But I firmly believe that, above all, we must ensure justice is served for those wrongfully accused, don’t you agree?”

The room responded in unison, their voices ringing out.

“Yes, Minister!”

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