"Today, I have some good news to announce," Dumbledore said cheerfully, "However, the protagonist today isn't this old man, but someone unexpected by everyone else."
"Oh, look, that's Cornelius Fudge, my dad's boss," Ron said, pointing at the stage with a surprised, gaping mouth.
"What's he doing here?" Harry asked. He didn't have a good impression of this middle-aged man. Aside from his bureaucratic tone and concealment at the Leaky Cauldron, as Minister of Magic, he allowed Dementors to act as guards without restraint.
Of course, trying to restrain them was actually beyond his capabilities.
Frankly, Harry would rather face Sirius Black, the traitor who betrayed his parents and whom he hated so much, than fight those Dementors lurking in the darkness, reveling in despair and pain.
They always reminded him of those gradually blurring, yet incredibly cruel and terrifying past events.
Fudge came on stage at this moment, wearing a pinstripe suit and a bright red tie, which made him look very formal. The purple pointed boots and dark green top hat, paired with his somewhat short stature, barely brought his height back to an average level, making him look not so short.
"Oh, students, hello," Fudge said, looking at the students sitting below the stage.
"First, I must apologize to you," Fudge said sincerely, putting on a serious expression, and then quickly gave a deep bow to the students below.
The audience erupted in an uproar.
"Good heavens, did he take the wrong medicine?" Ron said to Harry in surprise.
"My dad always complains that Fudge doesn't care about his subordinates' feelings," Ron continued, muttering to himself in confusion.
"I think so too," Harry agreed softly, remembering Fudge's annoying bureaucratic tone during their last meeting at the bar.
"Due to my mistake, which caused you serious trouble, I originally trusted those guards so much, but now I finally realize that those things are unreliable," Fudge said with a look of grief, then quickly walked off the stage, found the Gryffindor section, and shook Harry's hand tightly. He said, "They even almost killed our hero—Harry Potter!"
"Harry, is your injury healed?" he asked with concern.
"Yes, it's healed," Harry said uncomfortably, wanting to break free from Fudge's somewhat greasy hand. He couldn't accept someone he wasn't familiar with suddenly being so affectionate with him.
"That's good," he seemed to breathe a sigh of relief, adjusted his tie, and returned to the stage, saying, "But thankfully, Headmaster Dumbledore gave me generous assistance, and the riot was ultimately quelled."
The audience was unmoved.
Clearly, they weren't buying his act.
The Dementors had caused them great trouble; how could a few casual words ease their worries?
Fudge took out a handkerchief and wiped the sweat constantly pouring from his forehead.
He remembered what that little guy had told him: as a politician, acting should become a talent and instinct. Even if the audience below looked uninterested, he still had to keep it up.
He understood these principles before, but putting them into practice, he suddenly realized that his acting direction was wrong.
The way he handled the Dementors was indeed a major blunder.
At least until now, they had only caused him trouble and made no new contributions.
That Malfoy kid also told him that his classmates often wrote letters to their parents complaining that the Dementors were affecting their studies and lives, and if they failed at the end of the term, it would probably be the Dementors' fault.
Think about it, who are his classmates? Most of them are descendants of pure-blood families. The reason why he hasn't stepped down until now is precisely because there are still several pure-blood families who need him in this position, so they are constantly supporting him and spending a lot of Galleons to reverse public opinion.
Otherwise, his reputation might not be much better than Black's now.
He also remembered the conclusion the Daily Prophet had given him last time—how long can an incompetent and lucky person sit in that position?
So these students must be the people he needs to win over. Behind them are their parents, and even their families. If he can't befriend them, he can't offend them either.
The decision he made a few days ago was indeed too hasty.
"Click, click." The sound of a magic camera came from the direction of the door, occasionally bringing some dazzling flashes. A tall, thin man in a dark gray robe was holding a camera in both hands, constantly pressing the shutter.
"I don't believe he would be willing to put his humble appearance in the newspaper," Ron said again. He didn't have a good impression of the man on stage.
"Just watch, he might come up with some strange events later," Ron said with a mentality of watching a good show.
Harry didn't respond.
"Crookshanks, what's wrong?" Hermione suddenly felt Crookshanks at her feet stir restlessly. The fluffy fur of the ginger cat, who was originally nestled affectionately at her feet, suddenly bristled, causing a tingling sensation on her calves. The flat face showed an angry expression, and it was about to pounce towards the front of the stage, but Hermione picked it up with both hands and placed it on the table.
"Quiet, Crookshanks," Hermione said affectionately to her pet, "Don't make trouble. If you're hungry, I'll find you something to eat later. We're in a meeting now."
Then she began to stroke Crookshanks' fur, smoothing it out and soothing its somewhat manic mood.
"It's quite energetic now," Hermione thought.
"But!" Fudge suddenly said excitedly, "We received an incredible piece of good news a few days ago." He gave a mysterious smile.
"Our hero, recipient of the Order of Merlin, First Class, Mr. Peter Pettigrew, is not dead!"
"What?" Lupin, sitting in the teachers' seats, suddenly stood up, staring intently at the front of the stage.
"Remus, my old friend!" A short man slowly walked out from behind Fudge, opened his arms, making a hugging gesture. His small eye sockets were filled with excited tears. His head was bald, but the remaining small part of his graying hair was neatly combed. The attire was a carefully tailored pure black tailcoat. Of course, it looked somewhat comical on his short, stout body. His chest was also covered with medals symbolizing honor.
In addition to the Order of Merlin, First Class, other institutions had also rewarded him.
Lupin was a little excited. His good friend, whom he thought had died many years ago, suddenly appeared in front of him, but he instinctively felt that something was wrong.
"Where have you been these past twelve years?" Lupin suddenly asked, scrutinizing him from head to toe, trying to suppress his joy.
"No, don't talk about that," Peter Pettigrew's face suddenly twisted sharply, waving his hands in distress.
Just then, Mad-Eye Moody in the audience also stood up quickly, rushed to the front, and turned his terrifying magical eye, constantly examining Peter Pettigrew before him.
"No sign of the Imperius Curse, nor the effects of Polyjuice Potion, no disguising magic present," Moody said in his hoarse voice, then indifferently returned to his seat, resuming his silent observation.
"Of course, he wouldn't be fake, I know him well," Lupin said loudly, "But he must tell me where he's been all these years."
"I've been by your side all along," Peter Pettigrew said, gradually regaining his composure, forcing a wry smile.
Snape gloomily watched the "brotherly" reunion unfold, a mocking smile appearing from time to time.
Crookshanks, who had barely smoothed his fur, bristled again. He flipped his chubby body, stood up on the table, his amber eyes fixed on Peter Pettigrew on the stage, baring his sharp teeth.
"Oh, heavens, Crookshanks, don't do that," Hermione quickly wrapped Crookshanks in her arms, preventing him from making a sound.
"Are you joking?" The suspicion in Lupin's eyes grew stronger, his face still pale.
"Of course, I wouldn't lie like some traitors," Peter Pettigrew said bitterly.
"Do you remember where we were when they announced my death?" Peter asked.
"Of course, it was on a crowded street. Sirius, no, that traitor caused an explosion, killing you and twelve Muggles!" Lupin said excitedly, clenching his fists. "Then please tell me, why are you, who have been dead for more than ten years, appearing here today!"
"Because my memory has returned," Peter said, trying to appear agitated.
"Memory?" Lupin repeated the word, his doubtful eyes suddenly filled with confusion again.
"You remember, I was never as clever as you, you, James, and him. You all learned new things faster than us," Peter Pettigrew said with a reminiscent expression, his eyes still moist.
"If only I had tried harder back then," Peter Pettigrew continued, self-reproachful and pained. "Then I could have subdued him, and those innocent Muggles wouldn't have died." Peter pointed to his head and said, "He not only used that powerful blasting curse at the time, but before that, he even used the Cruciatus Curse on me!"
A chill ran down the spines of the teachers and some of the students present.
"I writhed in pain, as if a million ants were tearing at my skin, even into my bone marrow… He told me to betray you too, so that that person would spare our lives."
"Stop it," Lupin roared, interrupting Peter Pettigrew's words. He couldn't bear to hear that one of his best friends had cast such a cruel curse on another, and even shamelessly tried to recruit him.
Did he think everyone was as shameless as him!
"Wormtail, do you remember?" Peter Pettigrew said tentatively.
"How could I forget?" Lupin's emotions flared up again.
"He would never have imagined that the Animagus form that he and James helped me learn would allow me to escape him," Peter Pettigrew continued, recounting the most "realistic" scene at the time to the students and teachers before him.
"At the time, there was a manhole cover not far from me. Even though I was in excruciating pain, I still noticed it. He was extremely proud at that time, laughing maniacally, as if he derived great satisfaction from watching me being tortured into that state, but this also gave me a chance to escape."
"Perhaps even Merlin was protecting me," he said. "Under that terrifying pain, I actually managed to cast that spell successfully." Peter Pettigrew's eyes became even redder. "But in the end, he still realized what was happening. Just as I leaped into that sewer, a huge wave of air and a roar came from behind me. I even heard the sharp and desperate cries for help from the surrounding Muggles."
"I was still stunned, and the aftermath blasted off one of my fingers," Peter Pettigrew said, holding up his hand with a missing finger. "I don't remember what happened after that. Through Mr. Fudge, I learned what happened next. Soon, the Auror unit appeared at the scene and took him back to Azkaban. Only then did I escape from his clutches."
"And then?" Lupin rushed forward and grabbed Peter Pettigrew's crippled hand.
"Then I lost my memory," Peter Pettigrew also gripped Lupin's hand tightly. "The pain was constantly assaulting my nerves. Knowing about James's death, his betrayal, and the physical torment, I relied on my anger and meager will to endure the power of the Cruciatus Curse at that time, but when I escaped, the power of that curse exploded wildly in my body…"
Neville in the audience began to sob, remembering his parents who had been driven insane by the Cruciatus Curse.
Memory loss could still be recovered, but his parents' injuries were difficult to heal.
"Perhaps good people are rewarded," he said. "I forgot many things, and I couldn't even cast the spell to return to my original form. I could only maintain that form of mine."
"I wandered aimlessly in the city's sewers, relying on my instincts. Maybe sometimes I returned to land, maybe I went to the wilderness, but I didn't know… But finally, I met a kind family."
"Perhaps due to their careful care, I don't know when I regained my self-awareness, but at the same time it was very weak. I was like being possessed, but I was powerless over my body, like an observer watching my own actions, but I was already awake at that time."
"I was taken in by the Weasley family," Peter Pettigrew said, his small eyes looking towards the Gryffindor table.
"Oh, heavens," Ron whispered in disbelief, then stared blankly at Peter, as if struck by a Petrification Charm.
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