Harry Potter 03 - Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban

speak, You-Know-Who could search the village where Lily and James were staying for years and never find them, not even if he had his nose pressed against their sitting-room window!’
    ‘So Black was the Potters’ Secret Keeper?’ whispered Madam Rosmerta.
    ‘Naturally,’ said Professor McGonagall. ‘James Potter told Dumbledore that Black would die rather than tell where they were, that Black was planning to go into hiding himself … and yet, Dumbledore remained worried. I remember him offering to be the Potters’ Secret Keeper himself.’
    ‘He suspected Black?’ gasped Madam Rosmerta.
    ‘He was sure that somebody close to the Potters had been keeping You-Know-Who informed of their movements,’ said Professor McGonagall darkly. ‘Indeed, he had suspected for some time that someone on our side had turned traitor and was passing a lot of information to You-Know-Who.’
    ‘But James Potter insisted on using Black?’
    ‘He did,’ said Fudge heavily. ‘And then, barely a week after the Fidelius Charm had been performed –’
    ‘Black betrayed them?’ breathed Madam Rosmerta.
    ‘He did indeed. Black was tired of his double-agent role, he was ready to declare his support openly for You-Know-Who, and he seems to have planned this for the moment of the Potters’ death. But, as we all know, You-Know-Who met his downfall in little Harry Potter. Powers gone, horribly weakened, he fled. And this left Black in a very nasty position indeed. His Master had fallen at the very moment when he, Black, had shown his true colours as a traitor. He had no choice but to run for it –’
    ‘Filthy, stinkin’ turncoat!’ Hagrid said, so loudly that half the bar went quiet.
    ‘Shh!’ said Professor McGonagall.
    ‘I met him!’ growled Hagrid. ‘I musta bin the last ter see him before he killed all them people! It was me what rescued Harry from Lily an’ James’s house after they was killed! Jus’ got him outta the ruins, poor little thing, with a great slash across his forehead, an’ his parents dead … an’ Sirius Black turns up, on that flyin’ motorbike he used ter ride. Never occurred ter me what he was doin’ there. I didn’ know he’d bin Lily an’ James’s Secret Keeper. Thought he’d jus’ heard the news o’ You-Know-Who’s attack an’ come ter see what he could do. White an’ shakin’, he was. An’ yeh know what I did? I COMFORTED THE MURDERIN’ TRAITOR!’ Hagrid roared.
    ‘Hagrid, please!’ said Professor McGonagall. ‘Keep your voice down!’
    ‘How was I ter know he wasn’ upset abou’ Lily an’ James? It was You-Know-Who he cared abou’! An’ then he says, “Give Harry ter me, Hagrid, I’m his godfather, I’ll look after him –” Ha! But I’d had me orders from Dumbledore, an’ I told Black no, Dumbledore said Harry was ter go ter his aunt an’ uncle’s. Black argued, but in the end he gave in. Told me ter take his motorbike ter get Harry there. “I won’ need it any more,” he says.
    ‘I shoulda known there was somethin’ fishy goin’ on then. He loved that motorbike, what was he givin’ it ter me for? Why wouldn’ he need it any more? Fact was, it was too easy ter trace. Dumbledore knew he’d bin the Potters’ Secret Keeper. Black knew he was goin’ ter have ter run fer it that night, knew it was a matter o’ hours before the Ministry was after him.
    ‘ But what if I’d given Harry to him, eh? I bet he’d’ve pitched him off the bike halfway out ter sea. His bes’ friend’s son! But when a wizard goes over ter the dark side, there’s nothin’ and no one that matters to ’em any more …’
    A long silence followed Hagrid’s story. Then Madam Rosmerta said with some satisfaction, ‘But he didn’t manage to disappear, did he? The Ministry of Magic caught up with him next day!’
    ‘Alas, if only we had,’ said Fudge bitterly. ‘It was not we who found him. It was little Peter Pettigrew – another of the Potters’ friends. Maddened by grief, no doubt, and knowing that Black had been the Potters’ Secret Keeper, he went after Black himself.’
    ‘Pettigrew … that fat little boy who was always tagging around after them at Hogwarts?’ said Madam Rosmerta.
    ‘Hero-worshipped Black and Potter,’ said Professor McGonagall. ‘Never quite in their league, talent-wise. I was often rather sharp with him. You can imagine how I – how I regret that now …’ She sounded as though she had a sudden head cold.
    ‘There, now, Minerva,’