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Chapter 149: The Journalist and the Traitor
Chapter 149: The Journalist and the Traitor
As October drew on, the evenings grew darker earlier. The study was cast in gloom, with only a faint glow filtering through the windows, too dim to illuminate the room without candles.
Wedged in a chair, Ved kicked his feet out, tilting the chair to a precarious angle. He swayed gently as he listened to the conversation in the study.
"I'm scared... Voldemort is so powerful, and Death Eaters are killing people everywhere. What's the point of defying him? James has even provoked Voldemort multiple times, focusing his hatred on us..."
Peter Pettigrew's voice was tinged with a dreamy quality as he continued, "Dumbledore is the one he truly fears, but... but they keep hunting us... He has unimaginable power, and he's pursuing us himself..."
"The McKinnons are dead... The Prewetts... The Bones..."
"What benefit is there in opposing him... other than death?"
"I think... even if I betray them, Dumbledore won't kill me. James... James will forgive me, he knows I've always been a coward... At worst, I'll end up in Azkaban, but that's still better than death..."
"So you betrayed them? You betrayed the Order of the Phoenix and James Potter?" someone asked excitedly. "What happened between you and Sirius after that?"
After a brief pause, Peter continued, "Voldemort was chasing James and Lily... He was pursuing them himself, and I was terrified..."
"Dumbledore suggested they hide using the Fidelius Charm, and he offered to be the Secret-Keeper. But... James refused. He wanted Sirius to be the Secret-Keeper..."
"And then... at the last moment, Sirius made a foolish suggestion..."
Peter giggled, savoring the memory of the immense surprise and covert ridicule, despite his hazy consciousness.
"He suggested that I be the Secret-Keeper... He would draw Voldemort's attention while I, being a mere timid rat, could easily hide... No one would care about me... No one could find me..."
"But he didn't know... I had already defected to Voldemort a year earlier... They suspected Remus of being the spy feeding information to the Death Eaters, but they never suspected me..."
The swaying chair came to an abrupt halt.
Ved watched Lupin emerge from the living room, his face buried in his hands. It took a while before he lifted his head, his eyes still brimming with profound pain.
"Time has proven everything," Ved said softly. "They were wrong not to trust you."
Lupin shook his head. "I won't blame James and Sirius for that. At that time... almost all werewolves were Voldemort's followers, and they had reasons to suspect me..."
"But even so, James and Lily never shut me out..."
"And... and for all these years, I never believed in Sirius, either..."
He slumped down next to Ved, no longer attempting to hide his pain and regret.
"Aren't you going to listen anymore?" Ved asked, glancing at the bookshelf in front of him.
Lupin shook his head. "I'll stay in the living room. I'm afraid I won't be able to stop myself from killing him."
In the living room, Peter Pettigrew recounted how Sirius had found him after the deaths of the Potters...
He boasted about how he had shouted that Sirius had betrayed James and Lily, killing over a dozen people with a blasting curse, and then, in a show of anguish, cutting off one of his own fingers to pretend that he, too, had been killed by Sirius...
And then he hid in the Weasley household... remaining in hiding for a full eleven years...
Life as a rat was difficult, but he had no other choice.
He couldn't return to the side of light, for his lies would be exposed if he showed his face.
Nor could he go back to the Death Eaters, as they believed him to be a traitor. Because of the information he provided, the Dark Lord was defeated, and the Death Eaters sought revenge...
His only hope was to wait for the Dark Lord's return... because only the Dark Lord knew that he had not betrayed him...
Lu Ping listened quietly, his teeth clenching and grinding.
The people in the living room were not satisfied. They eagerly bombarded Peter Pettigrew with questions, eager to dig for more secrets. Peter answered every question without hesitation or concealment.
It was obvious to everyone that he had been given Veritaserum.
But so what?
They didn't care about that at all; they just wanted a sensational headline.
When the conversation started to become less newsworthy and veered towards privacy, Marchioni also came out of the living room, and Lupin went in to keep an eye on Peter Pettigrew to prevent him from escaping control.
"Thank you, Mr. Marchioni," Ved stood up and said, "If it weren't for your help, I wouldn't know where to find so many suitable journalists."
The people questioning Peter Pettigrew in the living room were from five or six countries, including the UK, and every one of them was as good as Rita Skeeter.
As long as the news was sensational enough and the newspapers sold well, they could completely disregard morality, let alone the government—especially the government of another country.
"They should be thanking you for providing them with such high-quality news."
Marchioni smiled and said, pouring himself a cup of tea and drinking it in one go before continuing, "The sales of the Softlight Badge have completely surpassed the Sales Catalog, and witches are going crazy over it. Some buy as many as a dozen, even though we emphasize that it's only effective for a month."
Ved's gaze rested on the Softlight Badge pinned to Marchioni's collar.
"Yes, I'm using it too," Marchioni smiled and fiddled with the badge on his collar.
"A good image makes most things go more smoothly. So our second largest customer group is middle-aged men."
"In fact, almost everyone I do business with is my customer. The Softlight Badge is the first topic we discuss when we meet, even before the weather."
He had profited immensely from the Sales Catalog and the badges, so he was wholeheartedly devoted to Ved's requests, regardless of the reason.
"Ved, do you have any new research lately?"
Marchioni leaned closer to Ved and lowered his voice, "Even if it's something you look down on, I can still sell it for a good price... no matter what it is!"
Ved thought for a moment and said, "I do have a new creation recently, but the technique is not yet mature, and the cost will be relatively high."
Marchioni's eyes lit up, and he asked, "Is there a prototype? It doesn't matter if the technique isn't perfect; we can improve it and make money each time!"
His fervor for money seemed to burn so fiercely that Ved couldn't help but lean back slightly.
"Next week," Ved said, "We'll meet here next week."
"Okay." Marchioni said excitedly, "Then it's settled!"
(End of Chapter)
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