Scars
The Ministry took my finger and kept it as a souvenir. Now that I think about it, I could have chosen a better finger to cut off. I had it somewhat planned out. Not all of it, but some of it! And I thought, leave a finger so they think you’re dead after the explosion! Everyone will blame Sirius. You have to leave something!
I probably could have left a toe. Not my big toes. Those are supposed to be for balance, you know? But any old toe would have done. But I thought, someone who is framing somebody else and faking their own death would be perfectly willing to leave a toe, you see. A finger is more valuable. There aren’t many people who would cut off their own finger.
Oh, “There aren’t many people who would let their friends die?” You’re getting off the point.
You see, I picked the best finger; they’d just have to believe I was dead. Nobody would pick the dominant finger from their dominant hand, right? It was my right forefinger. I had to be careful to set it somewhere conspicuous but not improbable, because where my spell hit, there is nothing, not a trace of the Muggles. So I had to place my finger somewhere towards the edge of the spell’s damage.
I still don’t have that finger in my Animagus form. Makes sense, makes sense. But, really, I could have picked another finger. I didn’t think a pinkie would be convincing enough, but the left forefinger maybe…
Oh, you want to know about how I could do this to my “friends?” You want to know how I could follow the Dark Lord? Evil? You think I’m evil?
Listen, listen, you don’t know what He’s like.
Listen, listen. You’ve got to understand—