Chapter 160: Keep It Contained
“Unregistered Animagus, the inside story of the Potter couple’s death, your grudge with Sirius Black—these I don’t care about.
“I can keep your secret for you, not reveal your true identity to anyone, if you just do one thing for me…”
Melvin said softly, “As long as the result satisfies me, you can fly far away, or continue being the Weasley family’s pet, neither matters.”
“Can I refuse?” Peter asked tentatively.
“I think not, Mister Peter.” Melvin shook his teacup, “If the deal doesn’t go through, I’ll have to hand you over to the Ministry of Magic, let the Aurors thoroughly scrutinize you, this suspicious illegal Animagus. Mad-Eye isn’t as easygoing as me; you’ll need a more rigorous story to explain why you faked your death, illegally hid in the Weasley family for a full twelve years.”
This is a threat, right?
This is an outright threat!
Little Peter Pettigrew sat stunned on the chair holding his teacup, his expression somewhat dazed.
According to the little wizards, wasn’t Professor Levent a professor with a good reputation, kind and gentle?
This was completely different from what he’d heard. Peter had a bad premonition and asked hoarsely, “Wh… what deal?”
Melvin showed a satisfied smile and kindly topped up his pumpkin juice: “Do you know Bellatrix Lestrange?”
“That insane Death Eater witch?” Peter certainly knew.
“Yes, on the night the Potter couple was killed, Voldemort disappeared too, whereabouts unknown. Bellatrix captured the Lumbardons couple and tortured them for Voldemort’s location, driving them mad. She was later caught and tried by Aurors and imprisoned in Azkaban.”
Considering Peter had long disguised himself as a rat and might not know about these events, Melvin patiently explained.
“What does this have to do with the deal you’re talking about?”
“I want to hire you to infiltrate Azkaban, get close to Bellatrix, and trick her into giving you the Gringotts vault key.” Melvin said in a light tone, casually, as if asking him to borrow something trivial.
Peter’s expression changed again, his pupils contracting to a point, shocked and terrified, staring at him in disbelief.
“You want to steal Bellatrix’s Gringotts vault! That’s illegal!”
“Oh, Mister Peter…”
Melvin looked at him slightly displeased and pushed Yurm back into the fedora, “Is there some misunderstanding between us? Are you some law-abiding wizard? Or do you need me to hand you over to the Ministry of Magic so you can face yourself properly in the interrogation room?”
“I…” Peter opened his mouth but was speechless.
“Besides, I’m just asking you to help get the Gringotts vault key; it doesn’t mean anything. Maybe I’m just collecting it.” Melvin shrugged.
The pumpkin juice steamed, blurring Peter’s vision again with its sweet aroma. Peter’s throat bobbed twice, his rat-like eyes darted again, and an idea came to him.
After a moment, he suddenly stuffed the remaining cream cake into his mouth, gulped some pumpkin juice, and his expression turned resolute, like a knight charging at a two-legged dragon:
“Alright, I can help you!”
But Melvin’s reaction was completely different from expected. He shook his head: “An illegal Animagus, especially one as nimble and inconspicuous as a rat, wouldn’t fear anyone’s pursuit.
“As long as you stall temporarily, get out of my sight, out of spell range, you can find any place—a wizarding family, a street sewer, even inside Hogwarts Castle—to escape my leverage.
“Even if I report you to the Ministry of Magic, no one would believe it.
“A Second Class Order of Merlin recipient who died twelve years ago—how could he be an illegal Animagus, how could he be a criminal?”
Melvin looked up into his eyes and asked with a smile: “Is that what you’re thinking?”
With every sentence, Peter’s face grew paler, and by the final question, his face was ashen without a trace of color.
His right hand slipped from the table, quietly reaching for his wand. Peter asked warily: “What do you want to do?”
“Maybe you should calm down properly for a while and think this deal through. We have plenty of time…”
The young professor spoke unhurriedly, but Peter tensed up, his body hair standing on end, his rat-like senses alerting him. The instant Melvin finished speaking, he had already gripped his wand.
But the young professor’s spell came faster. Before he could raise his wand, Transfiguration light enveloped Little Peter Pettigrew, reflecting desperate eyes in his pupils.
White light flashed, and the short, stout middle-aged wizard vanished. A white mouse lay on the plate with the cream cake, eyes terrified, squeaking frantically.
Unlike an Animagus transformation, this white mouse was purely Melvin’s magical Transfiguration; Peter had no control over the form and could only tremble in terror and helplessness.
Yurm was very interested in the white mouse, poking its head out from the hat to inspect it, thinking this white mouse was much nicer-looking than that gray mangy rat.
“Mister Peter, think calmly. I believe once I complete the preliminary preparations, our cooperation will be pleasant.”
Melvin picked up the white mouse by the tail and went to the wall bookshelf, found the glass bottle the beetle had once been in, and dropped the white mouse inside.
The glass jar that held jam was quite narrow; it was ample for keeping a beetle, but cramped for housing a rat.
The white mouse trembled in fright, curling up in the bottle, looking pitiful.
“Perhaps I should ask Professor Snape for a glass jar, the kind for storing specimens.”
Melvin murmured softly.
……
After Christmas came Boxing Day.
Hogwarts still howled with wind and snow, but the students’ playful enthusiasm showed no sign of waning. Boys braved the biting cold to have snowball fights on the pitch, playing until their clothes were soaked with snowmelt and sweat, then shivering back to the castle. Girls preferred gathering by the fireplace to chat and laugh about topics boys weren’t allowed to hear.
Hermione carried a single-strap schoolbag, walking alone from the library to the Great Hall.
Too many things had happened recently; her homework had fallen behind, and she’d read fewer extracurricular books. She took advantage of the Christmas holiday to read and relax.
Unfortunately, Madam Pince guarded too strictly; otherwise, she’d want to browse the Restricted Section.
Perhaps she could ask Professor Levent for a note.
Speaking of Professor Levent…
Hermione stared at the steps, walking down silently. She was now familiar with the staircase changes and wouldn’t get lost even on instinct without constant attention.
She recalled what Harry had said: the professor making a deal with Malfoy, opening the Chamber of Secrets early to contact the basilisk, then guiding them to uncover the truth and using the papers to steer public opinion.
What kind of wizard was the professor, really?
Entering the Great Hall, it was much the same as on Christmas: the Christmas tree still stood in the middle aisle, dry snowflakes drifted across the dome, only the candles had been removed, making it less ornate.
She sat at the Gryffindor long table and instinctively glanced at the high table. Just as she reached for knives and forks to eat, she paused, looked up at the high table, and stared at two empty seats.
Dumbledore and Professor Levent were absent; the two had missed dinner?
What were they doing?
The little witch stared at the two empty seats, lost in thought.
Unfortunately, there weren’t enough clues to guess anything. Nearby, Ron was pouring out his grief over losing Scabbers to Harry, chattering on movingly.
Hermione could only stop speculating, pick up her knives and forks, and eat properly while flipping through today’s Daily Prophet.
The news answered her questions.
The front page featured a photo of four people, three of whom she recognized: Headmaster Dumbledore, Professor Levent, Minister Fudge whom she’d glimpsed from afar, and an unfamiliar wizard.
「Knights of Merlin Award Ceremony!」
「Today, Merlin’s Order held a grand award ceremony. Two wizards received the Order of Merlin, Second Class for their outstanding contributions: Melvin Levent, who bravely subdued rampaging fire dragons in Romania and captured a gang of dark wizards, and Damocles Belby, who invented and perfected Wolfsbane Potion. Their deeds and achievements not only demonstrate personal courage and wisdom but also set an example for wizards everywhere.」
「Melvin Levent: Bravely fought fire dragons, outsmarted dark wizards, protected the Dragon Sanctuary’s safety.」
「A Hogwarts elective professor visited the Romanian Dragon Sanctuary during summer vacation. At the time, a gang of dark wizards stealing dragon eggs enraged 23 incubator mother dragons, causing more fire dragons to rampage wildly in the sanctuary, endangering tourists and keepers. Levent faced it fearlessly…」
「At the award ceremony, Wizengamot Chief Wizard Albus Dumbledore and Ministry of Magic Minister Cornelius Fudge presented the medals to the two and called on wizards worldwide to learn from them. Their stories shine like beacons, illuminating the wizarding world… Star Reporter Rita Skeeter reporting.」
Hermione flipped back and read it several times, finally staring at the photo.
In the photo, the headmaster and professor stood to the right, letting Fudge take center stage to show off, which looked somewhat ridiculous. The one beside him must be Belby, inventor of Wolfsbane Potion.
The little witch’s lips curved into a smile.
How could such a professor be a bad wizard?
……
Upper Flagley, White Ink Bar.
Night fell, and the venue lit up. Looking in through the floor-to-ceiling glass windows, candlelight glittered, fairies holding colorful magical candles swirled and danced under the ceiling, scattering shimmering gold and silver powder that gleamed alongside the crystal lamps, radiant and dazzling.
This was an extraordinarily ornate building, with velvet carpet on the floor and walls clad in intricately carved granite.
The male wizards inside wore crisp formal robes, with handkerchiefs or medals pinned to their jacket chests, gold buttons on collars and sleeves. The witches wore splendid gowns, like flowers blooming in deep winter.
“Merlin above, the incense here has numbed my nose; I can’t even tell if this is grape juice or wine.”
Melvin stood by a table in the dining area, holding a glass of purple-red liquid. He sipped it but couldn’t distinguish the taste.
A purple-ribbed gold medal was pinned to his chest, eye-catching under the lights.
“No matter what you want to drink, just tell a server, and someone will bring it to you.” Dumbledore wore gold-and-red formal robes with a first-class green medal on his chest. His tall, upright figure, silver beard and hair exuding mystery, commanded headmasterly authority in his legendary wizard pose.
Melvin glanced at his first-class medal—green was Merlin’s color, Slytherin’s color. Such a fine color, such a fine medal, too bad Cornelius Fudge had one too.
Last year, Cornelius Fudge awarded himself a first-class medal for his outstanding contributions.
The Knights of Merlin’s reputation suffered, and the Order of Merlin’s value plummeted.
Melvin recalled the event, fiddling with the ring on his finger, which held a small, exquisite emerald matching the medal’s ribbon color.
“Headmaster, do you think Harry and the others will awaken the basilisk again?”
“Who knows about the future?”
Dumbledore swirled his goblet and said softly, “The bathroom pipe entrance is sealed. If those three keep their promise of secrecy, in a few hundred years, the Chamber of Secrets and basilisk will truly become a nebulous legend.”
“…”
The dance music in the venue’s center changed, and Melvin looked up. A group of witches and wizards were dancing, including Ministry of Magic staff and notable wizards invited to the award ceremony.
The star of the dance floor was a middle-aged wizard, Damocles Belby, the other medal recipient.
Black-framed glasses on his nose, hairstyle like Snape’s but not greasy, fluffy and light—probably styled specially for the awards. He wore a light green formal robe, with somewhat baggy trousers below.
Actually, as early as the 1970s, Belby had created a prototype Wolfsbane Potion, but it was unstable, with severe side effects and extremely expensive raw materials. Amid that era of turmoil, it couldn’t be mass-promoted.
After twenty years of refinement, he invented a commercially viable Wolfsbane Potion—more economically valuable than cracking the dragon egg theft case, instantly making Belby the banquet’s focal point.
Poor Belby, a Potions Master flushed from drink, was being led in circles by a young witch from the Parkinson family, dazed and unsure how many Wolfsbane Potion benefits he’d promise.
Melvin shook his head: “When will this end?”
“Hmm… two more hours, probably.” Dumbledore said smilingly, “Boring waits make time drag. Shall I introduce you to some old wizards?”
“Speaking of which, I do want to make some friends.”
Melvin’s gaze fell on the group of Ministry of Magic officials.
……
“Madam Bones, may I have this dance?”
Melvin approached the edge of the venue and asked the Department of Magical Law Enforcement head standing in the corner.
“My honor, but compared to dancing, I’d rather find a quiet spot to let my ears rest.”
Amelia Bones, nearing middle age, had no odd ideas and smiled: “By the way, what does Professor Levent want with me?”
Melvin wasn’t polite at all: “I’d like to visit Azkaban.”
