Kyle paused, watching Dumbledore's calm expression as he waited for Harry, Ron, and Hermione to leave the room. Only then did Dumbledore speak.
"Don't worry, Black. There are no Dementors here. You don't need to keep up your Animagus form."
"Sorry, Headmaster." Sirius, having transformed back to his human form, looked like a schoolboy caught misbehaving, his voice low. "I just... haven't figured out how to face you yet."
Dumbledore took in Black's haggard figure—sunken eyes and worn appearance stirring a pang of pity. But he said nothing, merely waved a hand. A table appeared before Black, covered in bread, meatloaf, and roast potatoes.
"I think you'll need this right now... help yourself."
Black swallowed, grabbing a piece of bread. He seemed to be holding himself together, but hunger and perhaps the longing for a proper meal took over. In moments, he was wolfing down the food.
Dumbledore glanced at Black, not minding his ferocity, then added some more bread and pumpkin juice to the table. He moved over to Peter's cage, bending down to observe the shivering rat.
"Another Animagus disguised as a pet," Dumbledore mused. "Perhaps we need to conduct a thorough inspection of our students' pets." His eyes shifted to Kyle. "What do you think his purpose was?"
Kyle thought for a moment. "Probably to stay informed about the wizarding world. Hiding with a wizard family would give him easy access to any news about... Tom."
Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "I haven't heard that name in a long time. For a moment, I thought you meant Tom from the Leaky Cauldron." He chuckled, then added, "Peter probably didn't expect someone would use Mandrake leaves in a pet tonic... Frankly, I was impressed by your generosity."
"It was for a friend," Kyle said with a shrug. "A bit of Mandrake isn't a big expense for me."
"Not to worry, I'll cover it!" Black muttered, his mouth full, "How much did the tonic cost? I'll pay it all."
Kyle raised an eyebrow in mild amusement. Black sounded confident, likely thinking a few Mandrake leaves wouldn't make much of a dent in his vault. Though Kyle was tempted to take him up on it, he knew this wasn't the time for such details.
Instead, he looked to Dumbledore. "Professor, what do you intend to do?"
Dumbledore's expression grew thoughtful. "I need to verify something before taking any action."
He studied Peter, then, after a pause, drew out his wand. A blue light emanated from the wand, casting a glow over Peter's small form, making him seem larger for an instant—before he shrank back, slumping in the cage, defeated.
"Oh!" Dumbledore murmured in mild surprise, though he didn't comment further. Reversing his wand, he placed the tip lightly against Peter's head and flicked it gently.
A silvery thread of memory was drawn from Peter's mind. Dumbledore carried it to a stone basin in the corner, depositing it into the Pensieve. The silvery light swirled, and Dumbledore leaned over, narrowing his eyes as he gazed into the basin.
As the memory unfolded, Dumbledore's expression shifted, gradually growing more severe. The air in the room grew heavy and stifling, the mood more intense than any of them had felt in a long time. To Sirius, it felt as though a horde of Dementors had suddenly filled the room; he unconsciously released the bone in his hand, which he had gnawed to the marrow.
Fawkes, sensing the change, flew to Kyle's shoulder, giving a soft, comforting chirp.
"Thank you... I'm fine," Kyle murmured, gently scratching Fawkes's neck and offering some herbs for the Phoenix to nibble on. Minutes passed slowly.
After about ten minutes, Dumbledore finally opened his eyes. His expression was unreadable as he glanced toward the cage. That single look sent Peter into a terrified frenzy; he began squealing and banging his head against the bars, as though desperate to escape. His attempts were useless—the cage was an iron structure covered with wood, specifically reinforced by Kyle to prevent any chance of escape. Eventually, Peter knocked himself out, slumping into a heap.
Dumbledore took a deep breath and whispered, "I've seen it all... including how he betrayed and framed you." He looked at Sirius, his voice gentler. "You've waited a long time for this moment."
Sirius's fists clenched as his chest rose and fell, his eyes red with unshed tears. He let out a low, pained sob that quickly grew louder, until, finally unable to contain himself, he broke into heart-wrenching sobs.
Not a single portrait stirred; every painted headmaster and headmistress in the office kept their eyes closed as if asleep. But Kyle, suspicious, noticed one portrait sneakily open one eye—Phineas Nigellus Black, Sirius's ancestor and one of the most unpopular headmasters in Hogwarts' history.
When he noticed Kyle's gaze, Phineas gave up the pretense entirely, glaring fiercely. "I said it before! The Blacks would never stoop to such disgraceful behavior!"
"Rubbish!" snapped a bearded headmaster from another frame. "You always claimed Sirius was a disgrace to your family and said he ought to be expelled!"
"I— I never said that!" Phineas sputtered, defensively craning his neck. "You're slandering me! I would never!"
"Oh, I heard you say it myself," chimed in a portly headmaster with a mischievous glint in his eye. "You swore the Black family would never welcome him again..."
"I can confirm that too," another voice piped up.
"As can I—heard it with my own ears!"
Seeing the other portraits eagerly airing his past comments, Phineas flushed angrily. "Lies! All lies! I never said any such thing!"
When his protests did nothing to convince the others, he finally changed tactics, muttering darkly, "Well, it's all that wretched Peter Pettigrew's fault! That sniveling, treacherous little..."
Then he turned to Dumbledore. "Albus, you can't just stand by and do nothing! You must find a way to clear Sirius's name! I'll keep pestering you until you can't work in peace if you don't!"
"Phineas," Dumbledore said, his usual twinkle returning to his eyes, "did I ever say I intended to do nothing?"
Sirius looked up, his expression a mixture of hope and doubt. "You... you truly want to help me?"
"Of course, Sirius. I will help you," Dumbledore assured him. "But the challenge we face is how to achieve it."
He tapped his fingers on his desk thoughtfully. "It pains me to say it, but this injustice was caused by the Ministry's own failings. And for twelve years, Peter has been celebrated as 'Sir Peter Pettigrew, Order of Merlin, First Class.' For the Ministry to admit a mistake would be a severe embarrassment. I'm afraid they will be... reluctant to face the truth."
Sirius's face fell as the harsh reality set in. He had assumed Peter's exposure would be enough to clear his name, but he hadn't considered the Ministry's likely reaction. The Ministry valued its reputation above all else. Clearing his name was less about truth than politics.
As anxiety started to gnaw at Sirius, Kyle suddenly chuckled, breaking the tense silence. "Professor, I think you're all worrying for nothing."
Kyle continued, "The current Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, is both competent and fair. I'm confident he'll want to clear Sirius's name and restore justice."