Chapter 421

"Sirius Black, why didn't you follow your master?"

The room was suffused with an oppressive silence.

"Tell me, why are you staying here? Does your master have anything to say?"

The words echoed in the cold, dimly lit interrogation room, but they received no response. Sirius Black sat slumped in his chair, his eyes vacant and his head bowed. If not for the faint rise and fall of his chest, one might have mistaken him for a corpse.

Rufus Scrimgeour, the stern-faced Director of the Auror Office, leaned forward, his voice sharp and demanding. "Answer me!"

Cornelius Fudge, the beleaguered Minister of Magic, stood off to the side, his features taut with frustration. The recent mass breakout from Azkaban had thrown the wizarding world into chaos. Never before in history had the impenetrable prison suffered such a catastrophic failure, and it had to happen during his tenure.

Why me? he thought bitterly.

Meanwhile, Albus Dumbledore observed Sirius quietly from his position near the back of the room. The old headmaster's piercing blue eyes, framed by half-moon spectacles, seemed to see more than what was visible to others. He said nothing, choosing instead to study the broken man before him.

"Sirius, are you going to tell me anything at all?" Scrimgeour barked again, his patience fraying.

Sirius remained silent, his head hanging as if the weight of guilt was too much to bear. For a fleeting moment, he glanced at Dumbledore. Guilt and sorrow flickered in his hollow eyes before he quickly shut them again, retreating into the cocoon of his despair. I'm sorry, Professor. I failed you. I failed James and Lily... I failed them all.

Dumbledore's eyes narrowed imperceptibly. A subtle flicker of light glinted in his gaze—Legilimency. A faint thread of memories surfaced, but he kept his thoughts to himself, his expression unreadable.

"Director, we should use Veritaserum," an Auror suggested bitterly, his voice tinged with personal grief. He had lost a dear friend during the breakout, one of the many who had perished.

Scrimgeour hesitated, his sharp eyes flicking toward Fudge and Dumbledore. "Minister, Headmaster, the escape from Azkaban has caused immense damage. We need answers, and we need them now. I recommend administering Veritaserum to ensure Sirius Black reveals everything he knows."

Fudge shifted uncomfortably. The use of Veritaserum was heavily restricted; official approval was required, and its application often came under intense scrutiny. But the stakes were too high to dismiss the suggestion outright. He turned to Dumbledore, eager for the headmaster's support. "Professor, Sirius was once your student. What's your opinion?"

Dumbledore nodded thoughtfully. "Given the gravity of the situation, I believe Director Scrimgeour's proposal is appropriate. However," he added firmly, "the procedure must be meticulously recorded and properly archived with the Ministry for future review."

Fudge nodded in agreement, relieved to have Dumbledore's endorsement. "Very well, proceed."

Scrimgeour gestured to one of the Aurors, who retrieved a small vial of pearly white liquid. The room seemed to grow colder as the Auror approached Sirius, wand in hand.

A soft red glow emanated from the tip of the wand as a spell immobilized Sirius. His head was forcibly lifted, and his mouth opened as though guided by an unseen hand. Despite his evident desire to resist, the magic held him firm. Three drops of Veritaserum glistened in the dim light before being administered to the prisoner.

Sirius shuddered violently as the potion took effect. His muscles contorted, and the wooden chair beneath him groaned in protest. Then, just as suddenly as it began, the trembling ceased. His eyes, now glazed and vacant, stared straight ahead.

"Who are you?" Scrimgeour began.

"I am Sirius Black, prisoner of Azkaban, eldest son of the Black family, and former student of Gryffindor House at Hogwarts," came the dull, mechanical response.

Scrimgeour nodded grimly. "Good. Now, tell me—what is your master's intention in leaving you behind in Azkaban?"

Silence. Sirius's mouth opened as if to speak, but no words emerged. His lips moved soundlessly, his expression strained.

Scrimgeour's frown deepened. "What is the Dark Lord's conspiracy?" he demanded, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade.

"I don't know," Sirius rasped.

Scrimgeour clenched his fists. "Then why did you stay in Azkaban?"

Sirius's voice trembled as he answered, "Atonement."

"Atonement?" Scrimgeour sneered. "A traitor seeking redemption—how poetic. For whom are you atoning?"

"James. Lily."

A cold laugh escaped Scrimgeour's lips. "A traitor like you dares to speak of atonement? Tell me exactly how you betrayed them!"

Sirius's face contorted in anguish. For a moment, it seemed he might resist, but the Veritaserum overpowered his will.

"I... I trusted Peter Pettigrew," he admitted, his voice choked with regret. "I thought I was protecting them by making him the Secret Keeper. But I was wrong—so terribly wrong. That filthy, treacherous rat betrayed them to Voldemort."

The room fell deathly silent.

Scrimgeour and the Aurors exchanged stunned glances. Under the influence of Veritaserum, there was no doubt that Sirius was telling the truth.

Fudge's face turned ashen, and he began to wipe the sweat from his brow with a trembling hand. "This... this can't be true," he stammered. "Peter Pettigrew is a hero—he's been honored by the Ministry!"

Dumbledore remained composed, though his eyes glimmered with sorrow.

As Sirius continued to mutter his self-recriminations, Scrimgeour's expression hardened. He knew the implications of this revelation. The Ministry had wrongfully condemned an innocent man while glorifying a traitor. The fallout from such a scandal would be catastrophic.

Fudge shook his head vehemently. "No! It's a lie! Sirius Black is part of the Dark Lord's scheme!"

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