planning to go into hiding himself...

Pokaż mi serce nie opętane zwodniczymi marzeniami, a pokażę ci człowieka szczęśliwego.

.. 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 colors 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't need it
anymore,' 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
anymore? 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' friends' son! But when a wizard
goes over ter the Dark Side, there's nothin' and no one that matters to
em anymore...."
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," said Fudge kindly, "Pettigrew died a hero's
death. Eyewitnesses -- Muggles, of course, we wiped their, memories
later -- told us how Pettigrew cornered Black. They say he was sobbing,
'Lily and James, Sirius! How could you?' And then he went for his wand.
Well, of course, Black was quicker. Blew Pettigrew to smithereens...."
Professor McGonagall blew her nose and said thickly, "Stupid boy ...
foolish boy... he was always hopeless at dueling... should have left it
to the Ministry...."
"I tell yeh, if I'd got ter Black before little Pettigrew did, I
wouldn't 've messed around with wands -- I'd 've ripped him limb -- from
-- limb," Hagrid growled.
"You don't know what you're talking about, Hagrid," said Fudge sharply.
"Nobody but trained Hit Wizards from the Magical Law Enforcement Squad
would have stood a chance against Black once he was cornered. I was
Junior Minister in the Department of Magical Catastrophes at the time,
and I was one of the first on the scene after Black murdered all those
people. I -- I will never forget it. I still dream about it sometimes. A
crater in the middle of the street, so deep it had cracked the sewer
below. Bodies everywhere. Muggles screaming. And Black standing there
laughing, with what was left of Pettigrew in front of him... a heap of
bloodstained robes and a few -- a few fragments --"
Fudge's voice stopped abruptly. There was the sound of five noses being
blown.
"Well, there you have it, Rosmerta," said Fudge thickly. "Black was
taken away by twenty members of the Magical Law Enforcement Squad and
Pettigrew received the Order of Merlin, First Class, which I think was
some comfort to his poor mother. Black's been in Azkaban ever since."
Madam Rosmerta let out a long sigh.
"Is it true he's mad, Minister?"
"I wish I could say that he was," said Fudge slowly. "I certainly
believe his master's defeat unhinged him for a while. The murder of
Pettigrew and all those Muggles was the action of a cornered and
desperate man -- cruel... pointless. Yet I met Black on my last
inspection of Azkaban. You know, most of the prisoners in there sit
muttering to themselves in the dark; there's no sense in them... but I
was shocked at how normal Black seemed. He spoke quite rationally to me.
It was unnerving. You'd have thought he was merely bored -- asked if I'd
finished with my newspaper, cool as you please, said he missed doing the
crossword. Yes, I was astounded at how little effect the dementors
seemed to be having on him -- and he was one of the most heavily guarded
in the place, you know. Dementors outside his door day and night."
"But what do you think he's broken out to do?" said Madam Rosmerta.
"Good gracious, Minister, he isn't trying to rejoin You-Know-Who, is
he?"