The Prisoners of Hogwarts

Chapter 296 The Badge of Wrath and the Raven

Chapter 296 The Badge of Wrath and the Raven (5.4K) (2/2)

But almost immediately, that familiar, timid, and panicked mask quickly covered him again.

Peter flinched, as if only then realizing his "loss of composure," and his voice trembled pitifully again: "Why—why? Remus? That's the most likely place—" he asked cautiously, as if afraid of offending the other party.

"Precisely because it's so likely!" Lupin interrupted him, his voice serious. "You've been hiding for twelve years, so you might not know. The last time Black broke into Gryffindor Tower, it was through that secret passage leading to the Shrieking Shack. Since then, the Ministry of Magic has been closely monitoring that area, and there might still be Aurors guarding it or setting up warning spells. If we go there now, it's like walking into a trap."

Peter's face displayed a perfectly timed expression of "sudden realization" and "lingering fear." He patted his chest, panting, and said, "Merlin—thank goodness—thank goodness you reminded me, Remus! I—I was so eager to grab him that I almost—almost made a terrible mistake again—" He lowered his head, rubbing his eyes with his intact hand, his shoulders trembling slightly, as if he were feeling fear and remorse for his "recklessness."

Lupin took in his rapid shift in mood, a cold smile playing on his lips, but outwardly maintained his composure: "The observation point near the Whomping Willow is too conspicuous. We need a more hidden place, one that others and Black wouldn't expect." He steered the plan in a direction more "safe" and aligned with their true objectives: "Prioritize checking those hideouts deep in the Forbidden Forest that only we know about, far from regular patrol routes. And—"

Other, lesser-known corners of Hogsmeade that he might exploit.

"Yes—yes, you're right." Peter nodded hastily in agreement, his voice still carrying a lingering fear, but his eyes darted around almost imperceptibly in the firelight, clearly as he quickly reassessed and adjusted his plans. "You're so thoughtful, Remus. I—I was just too scared, and too hateful—"

"Be patient, Peter," Lupin emphasized, his tone carrying the composure of an experienced man. "Revenge requires a cool head, not recklessness. We must ensure a decisive blow, leaving him no chance to escape or retaliate."

"I understand, I understand." Peter nodded vigorously, his hands clasped tightly together, his knuckles turning white, as if he was trying hard to control his "excited" emotions.

Watching Peter's masterful performance, Lupin knew that the prey had completely fallen into the trap and was cleverly playing along with the hunter's pace.

"Tomorrow," Lupin stood up, ending the discussion, "tomorrow evening, we'll begin here—our hunt."

Lupin carefully instructed Peter to stay in the cabin and rest well to conserve his energy, promising to bring food and necessary supplies early the next morning.

Peter sat by the fireplace, nodding repeatedly, his face filled with gratitude and obedience, and said in a weak voice, "Don't worry, Remus, I'm not going anywhere. I'll wait for you here. I—I really can't hold on much longer."

His performance was impeccable, perfectly capturing the essence of a tormented and exhausted fugitive.

Lupin took one last look at his "old friend" huddled in the shadows of the firelight, then turned and pushed open the door, his figure quickly disappearing into the vast night and dense woods.

Inside the cabin, Peter, who had just looked extremely weak, instantly lost his pitiful expression after confirming that Lupin's footsteps had completely faded away.

A glint of cunning and suspicion flashed in his eyes. He quickly moved to the window and peered out through the cracks in the broken wooden planks until he could no longer hear even the slightest sound of Lu Ping's robe brushing against the grass.

"The Screaming Shack—" he muttered under his breath, his tone filled with distrust and a paranoid caution. Remus's words sounded reasonable, but Peter Pettigrew had survived this long precisely because he never completely trusted anyone.

He couldn't take any more risks. He had to go and confirm it himself.

His short body began to shrink and deform, his clothes blending into his fur. A moment later, only the dirty, bald, fat rat, Spotted, remained on the ground.

It twitched its nose warily, its small eyes gleaming eerily in the darkness.

Spotty nimbly slipped through a hole in the wall of the wooden house and disappeared into the night. Instead of taking the path, it relied on its rat instincts and years of familiarity with the terrain around Hogwarts to quickly dart through the grass, tree roots, and cracks in the rocks, heading towards Hogsmeade and the Shrieking Shack.

Its movements are swift and stealthy, making full use of the darkness and terrain for cover.

After a considerable amount of time, it finally approached the once-familiar building, famous for its haunting.

It did not approach rashly, but instead lurked under a cluster of dense bushes in the distance, its small eyes fixed on the quiet, dilapidated house.

It was very patient, remaining motionless like a stone. Time passed slowly, and the moon moved slowly through the clouds.

Suddenly, in the shadows near the shed, something seemed to move extremely slightly—it was definitely not the sound of the wind blowing the tattered curtains. Banban's pupils shrank to pinpoints. It held its breath, observing even more intently.

After a while, in another corner, a faint metallic reflection flashed by in the moonlight, like the reflection of some kind of badge or metal button.

Auror.

There really was an ambush.

Banban's heart skipped a beat, but what surged up was not fear, but a twisted sense of relief.

Remus didn't lie to him, at least not on this point.

This place has indeed become a trap.

It can no longer try to exploit this opportunity.

Having confirmed this, it stopped and immediately returned to the vicinity of the cabin at an even faster speed than before, following the hidden path it had taken.

However, when the silhouette of the cabin that symbolized warmth—the fireplace Lupin had kept burning faintly before he left—came into view, Scabbers stopped in his tracks.

It circled around in place for a few moments, its little nose twitching. In the end, it did not choose to return to the relatively warm, but clearly visible, room.

It nimbly climbed the trunk of a nearby large tree and squeezed into a hidden tree hole high up, half-covered by dead leaves.

It was damp inside, filled with the smell of rotting wood and insects, but it was secluded enough to observe the activity at the entrance of the cabin without being easily discovered.

It huddled in the cold tree hollow, feeling the chill of the night seep through its fur.

But it didn't care; instead, it felt a familiar sense of security.

It's gotten used to it over the years.

For Banban, for a mouse, a dark, damp, and cold corner is its true "home".

It closed its eyes, but its ears remained alert, waiting for dawn, for Remus, and for the "hunt" that it thought it was in control of.

On the other hand, having left that cabin in the woods filled with hypocrisy and scheming, Lupin did not return to the comforting warmth of Hogwarts Castle.

He needed to see Lynch immediately, not only to inform him of the latest developments, but also to vent the turbulent emotions churning within him, a mixture of icy anger and deep remorse.

Without hesitation, he walked along the edge of the Hogwarts grounds onto the moonlit white stone path that led into the Forbidden Forest and to Lynch's white stone house.

The stone house stands quietly in the forest clearing, seemingly blending into the surrounding darkness.

As Lupin's heavy footsteps touched the last few steps in front of the stone house, before he could even raise his hand, the seemingly ordinary wooden door silently opened inward.

The room was dimly lit, with only a faint flickering fire in the fireplace. Lynch's voice came from inside, calm and even, as if he had already anticipated his arrival: "Come in, Remus."

Lupin stepped into the stone house and adjusted his eyes to the dim light inside.

He saw Lynch standing at a small table in the center of the room, his back to the door, intently arranging a simple ceramic tea set. A small copper kettle hummed gently over a miniature magical flame on the table, emitting steam. Lynch was placing pinches of dried herbs, which emitted a calming and soothing aroma, into the teapot.

"Please have a seat." Lin Qi didn't turn around, his voice remaining calm. "The tea will be ready soon."

Lupin sat down in a chair by the fireplace as instructed, his body still somewhat tense from his earlier emotions.

He watched as Lin Qi calmly completed the tea-making process: pouring in hot water, covering the pot, and letting the tea leaves slowly unfurl and release their flavor. The entire process was imbued with a strange tranquility, completely out of place with the tense atmosphere outside.

Finally, Lin Qi turned around, carrying two steaming cups of pale golden tea. He handed one cup to Lupin and sat down opposite him.

Holding the warm teacup, feeling the soothing aroma wafting around his nose, Lu Ping took a deep breath, as if the warmth gave him the courage to speak.

"He's here." Lupin's voice was hoarse from suppressing his emotions. "Peter—that mouse—stopped me on the road just now."

He recounted everything that had just happened—Peter's sudden appearance, his distorted explanation, the conversation in the cabin, and Peter's eager plan to hunt Sirius Black—as concisely as possible.

However, when Lupin spoke of Peter's eagerness to tear Sirius to pieces, his suppressed anger finally erupted.

He slammed his fist on the armrest of the chair with a loud thud, causing a lot of tea in his cup to splash out.

"That despicable bastard!" Lupin's voice trembled with extreme anger. He rarely used such vulgar language, but at this moment, it was the only way to vent his anger. "You didn't see his face with your own eyes, Lynch! When he talked about how he found Sirius, and how it all ended up," his eyes gleamed!

That wasn't for James and Lily's revenge; it was—it was a bloodthirsty thrill! He couldn't wait to taste blood! How could he—how dare he?!

Lupin was breathing heavily, his chest heaving, his gray eyes burning with the pain of betrayal and the naked killing intent before him.

Lynch listened quietly, without interrupting, until Lupin's anger subsided slightly before speaking calmly, his voice like ice water: "He made his choice long ago, Remus. From twelve years ago—no, perhaps even earlier, the moment he chose to kneel before Voldemort—he was no longer the Peter Pettigrew you knew. Survival and self-interest were his only gods. Now, eliminating Sirius, who knows the truth and could potentially threaten his rebirth, is merely the inevitable consequence of that choice he has made twelve years ago."

This calm, almost cruel analysis was like a bucket of cold water, extinguishing some of Lupin's anger, but bringing up another, more profound emotion.

Lupin seemed drained of all strength, staggering back a step and leaning against the cold stone wall. He raised his hand to cover his face, his voice leaking through his fingers, filled with endless exhaustion and self-loathing: "How foolish we were! How blind we were!" His voice choked with sobs, "James, Sirius—and me—we actually treated him as a friend, as a cowardly little brother who needed protection! We shared secrets, we went on adventures together! We thought it was friendship—but now, looking back, how much of that adoring gaze he gave us, that cowardly agreement—was it calculation, how much was the survival instinct of clinging to the strong?"

He lowered his hand, his face filled with remorse and a sense of absurdity: "We were like a bunch of blind men, Lynch! A bunch of self-righteous fools, lost in a fairytale of brotherhood! Letting this one—this one—stay by our side for so many years, without knowing anything about his true nature! If we had seen through it sooner—if even one person had sensed something was wrong—James and Lily might not have—"

He couldn't continue; the immense guilt and the mockery of his innocent past nearly crushed him.

Lynch walked up to him and handed him a cup of hot drink, which had been prepared sometime earlier and had a calming, soothing aroma. "Hindsight is always 20/20, Remus." His tone was still calm, but less aloof than usual, and more subtly understanding. "There's no point in dwelling on past regrets. What matters is the present, what we're doing."

Lupin took the cup; the warmth seeped into his palm through the ceramic, but it couldn't dispel the chill in his heart.

He raised his head and looked at Lynch, the pain in his eyes gradually being replaced by a stronger determination.

"You're right." He took a deep breath, downed the slightly hot liquid in his glass, and forcefully suppressed his turbulent emotions with the warmth it brought. "Next—what should I do?"

He put down the cup, his gaze becoming clear and cold once more.

Lin Qi met his gaze, his eyes sharp and focused, like a hawk locking onto its target.

"Be his most devoted friend, Remus." Lynch's instructions were clear and cold, devoid of any emotion. "If he wants revenge, show an even stronger hatred than him; if he wants to search, show a more meticulous mind and unwavering support." Meet all his needs, guide his every action, and make him believe that you are the only accomplice he can rely on, equally driven by hatred.

He leaned forward slightly, the candlelight flickering in his deep eyes.

"You just need to make sure his gaze is firmly fixed on what he perceives as his prey, and that he follows the path we've laid out for him step by step. As for the rest—" Lynch's voice deepened, carrying an undeniable air of control, "Leave it to me."

Lupin stared at Lynch, as if trying to read the end of the whole plan from his unfathomable eyes.

A few seconds later, he exhaled a heavy breath, and his tense shoulders finally relaxed. It was a sense of relief at handing over a heavy burden, and an awareness of completely becoming part of the plan.

"I understand." Lupin's voice regained its composure, even taking on a hint of coldness. "I will once again be Peter Pettigrew's best friend."

He picked up the slightly cooled cup of tea on the table and drank it all in one gulp, as if using this slightly bitter liquid to completely extinguish the last bit of personal emotion belonging to Remus Lupin in his heart.

When he put down his teacup, his eyes had become as calm and determined as Lynch's, like a polished flint.

"Tomorrow, the hunt begins."

After Lupin left, the stone house returned to absolute silence, with only the occasional soft crackling of firewood in the fireplace.

Lin Qi did not move immediately. He sat alone in the same spot, his fingertips lightly tapping the rim of the ceramic teacup. Countless pieces of information seemed to flow and combine in his dark eyes, incorporating the new intelligence brought by Lu Ping into his vast and meticulously crafted plan.

A moment later, the last flicker of light in his eyes vanished, replaced by an unfathomable calm.

After a long while, he sighed.

He immediately got up and, without lingering, went straight up the inverted staircase leading to the second floor.

Inside the alchemy room, the surface of the black stone altar in the center of the room was engraved with intricate magical runes in gold metal. Scattered around it were some strangely shaped vessels and unprocessed rare materials. On the shelf in the center of the altar, instead of bottles and jars, a badge was securely held in place by a small metal base with a clamp.

The badge was made of a material that resembled gold but was not quite gold. Under the dim indoor light, it gleamed with a dark luster and was engraved with a fist pointing to the sky—the very symbol of the Stone Tower Merchant Guild.

Beside the badge stood a raven, motionless.

Its feathers were jet black and glossy, yet lifeless; its eyes were like two black glass beads, devoid of any luster, like a finely crafted specimen. This was Lynch's raven clone.

Lin Qi walked to the stone platform. His gaze first lingered on the Stone Tower Merchant Guild emblem for a moment, then settled on the still crow.

He stretched out his right hand, and a drop of crimson blood quietly appeared on the tip of his index finger. The blood drop was not pure red; there seemed to be a very subtle silver shimmer flowing inside.

Without the slightest hesitation, he gently touched the center of the raven clone's forehead with his bleeding finger.

In an instant, the drop of blood containing special magic seeped into the raven's jet-black feathers as if it had been absorbed.

Like a drop of water falling into parched earth, the blood droplet was instantly absorbed.

The raven's jet-black body shuddered violently, and its glass-bead-like eyes suddenly burst forth with a dazzling silver-red light, brimming with unnatural vitality.

It stiffly turned its head to look at Lynch.

However, Lynch did not wait.

He began chanting a low, difficult incantation, the syllables ancient and obscure, carrying a power that drew in nothingness. As the incantation progressed, his right hand suddenly shot forward, fingers forming a claw, not grasping at the raven's physical form, but rather at the magical aura that had just begun to stir around it!

The moment his hand touched the silver-red light, the raven clone did not dodge or struggle. Instead, its entire form suddenly collapsed and disintegrated, not turning into feathers or flesh, but exploding directly into a thick, churning cloud of black smoke!

Deep within the core of that black smoke, an ominous interplay of crimson and silver light flickered violently, as if compressing all the crow's spirituality and the information it conveyed into this strange energy.

Lynch's hand held the wisp of black smoke, its interior shimmering with crimson, steadily. His incantation continued, growing sharper and more piercing. With a flick of his wrist, he guided the restless smoke toward the still badge beside him, etched with a fist.

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