The moment Professor McGonagall's Patronus shimmered into view, all three men in the room stiffened.
Sirius and Lupin understood exactly what it meant for McGonagall to use the Patronus Charm now—this was the Order of the Phoenix's secret method of communication. She was almost certainly alerting Professor Dumbledore. That realization, oddly enough, set their minds at ease.
Douglas, though aware of the communication method, didn't grasp its full weight. He hadn't expected McGonagall's reaction to be so fierce—she'd even leapt to suspecting the Imperius Curse. But then, he had never lived through that war. He couldn't possibly understand the pain of betrayal by a comrade, or the agony of losing a friend.
He spoke up again, voice calm:
"Professor, did you notify the Ministry of Magic?"
McGonagall kept her eyes fixed on Sirius, a cold huff escaping her lips.
"The Headmaster of Hogwarts is Albus Dumbledore—not the Ministry."
Douglas gave a simple "Oh," then pulled up a chair and sat down.
The sound made McGonagall glance at him in surprise. When she looked back at Sirius, she saw both Sirius and Lupin had also quietly taken seats.
For a moment, she was thrown by this unexpected display.
Douglas placed both hands on the table, openly showing he had no intention of reaching for his wand.
"Professor, at your level, I expect you know the details of the Fidelius Charm and the Secret-Keeper. The truth is, Sirius wasn't the Secret-Keeper for the Potters. It was Peter Pettigrew."
Seeing their calm, McGonagall finally lowered her wand from Sirius—but didn't put it away. Her brows knit in distress.
"Douglas, don't let yourself be fooled… Poor little Peter, such a foolish child. He went after Black alone, was blown to bits by a curse—only a finger left behind… I was always strict with him. You can imagine how I… how much I regret that now…"
Her voice caught, eyes glistening with unshed tears.
At the mention of Pettigrew, both Sirius and Lupin clenched their fists, knuckles whitening as they slammed the table in fury.
McGonagall's determined gaze swung back to Sirius. She slowly raised her wand, aiming it at him once more, and spoke to Douglas and Lupin:
"I don't know how he's deceived you. Back then, James Potter told Dumbledore, with absolute certainty, that he'd chosen Black as their Secret-Keeper. He trusted Black would die before betraying them. Black was prepared to vanish.
Dumbledore himself offered to serve as Secret-Keeper, but James refused.
And poor little Peter—he idolized you all. Everyone knew he trailed after you like a shadow. Would anyone have trusted him with the Secret-Keeper's burden?
Black, as your former Head of Gryffindor, I'm disappointed in you. Not even the courage to admit your own mistakes—now you'd pin the guilt on a dead hero…"
Sirius's eyes brimmed with regret, tears threatening to spill.
Douglas's voice rang out, urgent:
"Animagus!"
Sirius didn't hesitate. No longer hiding the truth, he transformed—right before McGonagall's eyes—into a massive black dog, barking twice at her.
McGonagall gasped, hand flying to her mouth.
Douglas explained, voice heavy:
"As you can see, Sirius is an Animagus. The reason he escaped Azkaban was because he discovered another Animagus—Peter Pettigrew—was at Hogwarts…"
McGonagall turned to Douglas in shock.
"You mean Pettigrew is alive?
Impossible. When the Ministry arrived, he'd already been blown to pieces—only a finger left…"
Suddenly, a spark of realization flashed in McGonagall's eyes. As a true master of Transfiguration and an expert on Animagi, she began connecting the dots at lightning speed.
"Hogwarts…? Could it be the Weasleys' pet rat—Scabbers? I remember that rat lived for years, and was missing a toe… And back then, you all used to call him 'Wormtail' in public. I even scolded you for it…"
Douglas couldn't help but applaud, genuinely impressed.
"Truly worthy of the title Mistress of Transfiguration…"
Sirius shifted back to human form, head bowed, and once again recounted the hidden truth.
As McGonagall listened, she finally lowered her wand completely.
Her anger boiled over.
"Why didn't you speak up sooner? He fooled us all. We always thought he was… that damn traitor.
Back then, Dumbledore realized someone close to the Potters was leaking their whereabouts to You-Know-Who.
In fact, for some time, he'd already suspected there was a traitor among us, passing information to the Dark Lord."
She shot Lupin a deeply apologetic look. Because of his lycanthropy, many in the Order—including herself—had once suspected him.
At that moment, a knock sounded at the office door. Through the enchanted mirror, they saw Dumbledore himself standing outside, wand drawn, murmuring spells against Douglas's door.
McGonagall glanced at the mirror and commented dryly,
"Impressive enchantments…"
She'd had enough surprises for one day.
Noticing Dumbledore's actions, Douglas hurried over and opened the door.
Dumbledore stood at the threshold, peering over Douglas's shoulder at the scene inside.
He smiled, eyes twinkling.
"Seems I won't need to explain anything after all…
Douglas, that little charm on your door is quite clever, and your use of runes is impressive.
If Bathsheda—Professor Bathsheda Babbling—were to see it, she might just take your door apart for study."
Douglas grinned.
"I've placed concealment charms on it. As long as you don't mention it, I doubt Professor Babbling would ever notice."
He ushered Dumbledore in with genuine warmth, guiding the venerable, one-hundred-and-twelve-year-old Headmaster to the office chair and making sure to block the fireplace from view the entire time.
Once seated, Dumbledore blinked playfully.
"Actually, I'd be quite happy to sit by the tea table. I don't believe I've ever visited your office before. They say your tea-brewing skills are second to none…"
As he spoke, his gaze drifted toward the tea table. Douglas deftly shifted to block his line of sight, then called to Dobby, who was still dazed nearby:
"Dobby, show Headmaster Dumbledore your tea artistry, quickly…"
He turned to Dumbledore with a smile.
"Professor, Dobby's picked up all my best tricks. Frankly, his tea is even better than mine."
Sirius, watching Douglas's subtle maneuvering, pursed his lips, clearly suspecting something was being concealed.
McGonagall's stern voice cut through the moment:
"Albus, as much as I hate to interrupt your tea cravings, I must remind you—we didn't call you here for refreshments…"
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