Chapter Text
Prologue: The Catch
The owl flapped her wings silently, amber eyes scanning the ground in search for the prey she’d hunted for nights now, waiting until the strangely smelling creature was alone.
She heard a rustling sound and dived, grabbing it in her claws before flying away with the still struggling rat.
XxX
Harry Potter had just awoken from the strangest dream, one he couldn’t quite recall beyond vague flashes and discomfort that was hard to shake. Voldemort had made an appearance in it, of that much he was certain. He'd recognise that cold, soft muttering anywhere even after having faced the man only once. Shivering, the teen rubbed his prickling scar, which had started acting up again recently. Not a great improvement to his already depressing summers at Privet Drive. If only Harry would have been able to truly save Sirius... his godfather would have known what to do. Perhaps he should send a letter to ask for advice, even if he knew that it might take a week until a reply could be expected.
A scratching at the window jolted him fully awake, but it was just Hedwig, having returned from her latest hunt. He'd have to wait with that letter until her wings were rested enough for another long flight.
“Shh, be silent girl,” he whispered upon opening the window. “Uncle Vernon would kill you if you woke him up… Ew, Hedwig, did you really have to bring your food here?” The owl hooted and ruffled her feathers, scooting closer and sticking out a talon clutching a brown, still squeaking rat. “Hedwig, get that away or eat it. Don’t push it in my face,” he said with a disgusted expression, but the owl was persistent and pushed the animal against his hand.
Knowing she wouldn’t be ignored, he pried the rat from her talons, holding it tightly. It clawed at his fingers, and Harry got the odd feeling that he had seen it before.
The realisation hit like a bucket of ice-water being poured over his head. The rat missed a toe.
“Wormtail?” he whispered, holding the struggling animal so he could look straight into its beady eyes, where both fear and an intelligence that couldn’t stem from a real rat were to be seen - though it came close, Pettigrew had never been the brightest tool in the shed.
As Pettigrew struggled, Harry hurriedly rummaged through his trunk until finding a small cage - really, he had too much junk in there - and placed Wormtail in it, grinning smugly at the accomplishment. The sentiment was clearly shared by his owl, Hedwig landing on Harry's shoulder to demand her reward in form of petting and food. Both which he was very inclined to give after the astonishing way she'd delivered one of his enemies. “Great catch girl…'' he praised. ''Would you like some bread?”
The owl affectionately nipped his ear with her beak before taking the offered crumbs.
Chapter one - Discoveries
“BOY!” Harry heard and instantly cringed.
“Yes, uncle Vernon?”
“What is… this? I tolerated that, that bird, but I will not have vermin in my house!”
“Oops,” Harry muttered. He really should find a way to bring Wormtail to the Ministry. He wondered whether he should tell his uncle what it really was. Maybe trying wasn't such a bad idea as he was not planning to release the rat.
“I can’t set it free,” he sighed, facing his uncle, who held the cage with Pettigrew.
“And why not?”
“You might want to close the window in case the neighbours hear.”
Uncle Vernon narrowed his eyes but did as recommended. He walked over to the windows and shut them so hard that the glass trembled under the force of it before he turned around. “Well? Is this more of your freakishness?”
“Not mine… but that’s no rat, that’s a wiz… one of my kind, who serves someone very evil. He escaped me last year before we could send him to prison,” Harry explained, reflexively taking a step back when Vernon approached.
“That’s a- a human? A criminal human?” Vernon spluttered with disbelief, eyeing the cage he held in his meaty hand.
“Yes. Hedwig caught him. No idea how she knew it was him… but she was very persistent to push him in my face,” Harry grinned before remembering who he was talking to and trying to look guilty.
“And what will you do with this… this criminal?” Vernon asked, a vein beginning to throb in his reddening neck.
“I wanted to send him to the Ministry for a trial. However, I can’t revert him to his human form as I’m not allowed to use… that… outside of school.”
“I don’t want to have some criminal of your kind in my house. What’s he done anyway?”
Harry was silent for a while, making sure the loathing was to be seen in his eyes as he looked at Wormtail. “He got my parents killed. He betrayed them. To top it off, he killed thirteen Muggles. Non-magical people,” he added in explanation, kind of wondering why his uncle hadn’t blown up yet. Maybe because Petunia and Dudley weren’t home?
“Where is this Ministry of yours?”
“Err… Somewhere in London… I’ve never been there, personally.”
“I want that thing out of my house, boy. I don’t care how, but you’ll get him out of here Right. Now,” his uncle firmly stated. The shade of red his face took was slowly starting to get ridiculous, and the only thing holding Harry back from laughing was thinking of the consequences of such an abysmally stupid action.
“Done… sure,” Harry said in an airy tone. “No problem, really. I’ll just uh, take the Knight bus or something…” They would surely know where the Ministry was. He couldn’t believe he wasn’t being punished…
“Well? What are you waiting for? GO!” his uncle shouted. “And don’t come back until you’ve gotten rid of it! Be glad your aunt is out tonight!”
Harry grabbed Wormtail’s cage and hurried out of the room, grabbed his shoes and put them on before remembering that he would need his wand to call the Knight bus. No chance that he would get that if he asked. Harry peeked through the door opening again and to his relief, Uncle Vernon had sagged down on the sofa and turned the TV on. Silently, Harry fished a hairpin out of the pocket of his jeans and picked the lock of the cupboard as sneakily as possible. He’d done it many times before to retrieve his study books, so in merely a few seconds, the lock clicked. He searched around in the darkness until locating his trusted holly wand and some money. His uncle hadn’t moved, and when Harry was done, he closed the cupboard again and practically ran out of the house, his heart pounding with joy that he had an opportunity to contact the Wizarding World before the end of the holidays… In fact, it was only the end of the first week… He had half in mind packing all of his things and renting a room in Diagon alley for the rest of summer, but without magic he wouldn't get far. Besides, Voldemort was still roaming about somewhere…
Glad to properly know how this worked by now, Harry stood at the sidewalk and pointed his wand at the road without casting any spells. A few seconds later, the three-deck bus appeared out of thin air with a loud bang.
“My my, it’s you again,” the lanky conductor, Stan Shunpike, smirked. “Harry Potter! Or would you rather be called Neville again?”
“Hey Stan. Harry is fine… I’m not fleeing right now.”
“Good. Come in. Twelve sickles. Three more-“
“-if I want to have a cup of hot cocoa, yes, I know. I’ll just pay for the ride, and no, I don’t need a toothbrush. Can you take me to the Ministry of Magic?”
“The Ministry? What do you need to go there for?”
“Err… I need to get to the Auror department, or anything that deals with criminals, really. I didn’t know how to get there, so I called the Knight bus.”
“Wonderful idea! Take a seat, take a seat! Hey, Ernie!” Stan shouted over his shoulder. “Guess who we have on the bus again? It’s Potter!”
Harry groaned, handed over a handful of sickles and warily sat down on a seat after checking whether there truly was none actually attached to the bus – which indeed wasn’t the case.
“How do I actually get into the Ministry?”
“The visitor’s entrance? You need to get in a telephone booth, dial 62442 and follow the instructions that the operator’s voice will give you.”
“Thanks,” Harry replied, forcefully holding onto his seat as they made a sharp turn. A few chairs behind him tumbled over, and Harry dearly hoped he wouldn’t get sick.
“Bye Harry! See ya again soon!”
“Sure…” Harry replied, much less enthusiastic while stumbling out of the bus. “I’ll see you in a few hours, still need to get home. 62442, right?” he asked, eyeing the red telephone booth in the alley he now faced.
“Yep.”
“Thank you. Bye!”
He waved once, but the bus had already disappeared around the corner, a few lampposts having jumped out of the way to not get hit by it. Slowly, the teen walked into the alley and entered the telephone cell together with the quivering rat. A cool, female voice sounded after having fed the telephone a coin and having dialled the number: “Welcome to the Ministry of Magic, visitor. State your name and reason for your arrival.”
“Harry Potter. I need to speak to the Aurors.”
A clanking sound came from the change tray and a square button fell out with the words ‘Harry Potter, Auror department visitor’. Suddenly, the telephone booth sank down like an elevator until hitting ground. The spacious room he was met with upon exiting was... something else, and if Harry stood and gawked for a while, he could surely not be blamed. In the middle of a large square, a fountain stood with golden statues, constellations moved over the ceiling and dozens of people rushed across the square. On both sides of the corridor leading up to it were fireplaces, and even at this time, Ministry workers constantly floo’d in and out of emeralds flames. Not quite knowing where to go to, he caught the sleeve of the first wizard who happened to rush past once Harry had gathered his bearings.
“Sir? Sir, may I ask something?”
“Don’t bother me boy, I’m late for work,” the man grumpily stated, but his eyes widened when seeing Harry’s face. For once, fame paid off positively. “M… Mr Potter?”
“Just Harry, Sir. Could you please tell me where the Auror department is located? I have information about a criminal.”
“Yes, certainly… it’s on the second floor, same as Law Enforcement. The lift is there, on the other side of the Atrium,” the man stammered with a bright, disbelieving smile on his face.
“Thank you, Sir,” Harry politely replied, grinning as the man mumbled: “Merlin’s beard, I met Harry Potter! I’ve got to tell my wife!”
Harry made his way over to the elevator, squeezing in just before the doors closed, pressing the button beneath the sign ‘second floor.’ The lift shot up with a dazzling speed that rivalled the Knight bus’ until it came to a halt with a shock. He got out, glancing at an information board that told him he was on the right floor, and proceeded to hurry down the corridor. He tightened his grip on the handle of the cage with Wormtail, who was running around and squeaking in terror.
“You get what you deserve for betraying my parents, rat,” he growled under his breath, but it did nothing to shut the creature up. Taking a deep breath, Harry knocked on the door of the Auror's office.
“Come in!” a feminine voice sounded. Whoever had called out wasn't visible at first glance upon stepping into the office, attention drawn instantly to many towering stacks of paper. They were so high that he was sure only magic held them upright. From behind one of them, a woman with short, lilac hair and clothes that wouldn’t have been out of place at a rock concert, emerged.
“Hey. Uhm, I have information… it’s about Sirius Black’s case,” Harry stated, watching in bewildered amusement as she stumbled over her own feet and rammed into the desk in an attempt to avoid the stacks of paper while approaching him. How could someone look this out of place in their own office? Nevermind that, how could someone this clumsy have become an Auror in the first place?
“Black? Really? My name is Tonks, by the way. Nymphadora Tonks, but I prefer my surname… I bet my mother was high when she made up my first name,” she cheerily said. Harry instantly took a liking to her.
“I’m Harry, Harry Potter. I prefer my first name though. Last one is a bit too well-known.”
“Harry Potter?” she gawked. “Wow, really? Oh, sorry… I’m a bit of a fan. Well- who isn't,” she grinned, offering her hand and sweeping a few pencils off the desk in the process. “Woops. So, information about Black? Wait, I’ll call Shacklebolt. He leads the hunt. HEY, KINGSLEY!” she shouted so a tall, dark man entered the office.
“Yes?” he asked in a bass voice, looking mildly irritated.
“Harry here has information about Black.”
“Harry who?”
“Harry Potter,” Harry answered, taking the seat Tonks offered him.
Shacklebolt's eyebrows shot up, annoyance making way for interest as he too summoned a chair. “What kind of information, Mr Potter?”
“Harry, please,” he corrected. “I came to tell you that I have proof that Sirius Black is innocent.”
A deafening silence fell. “Sorry, what did you say?”
“He’s innocent. Falsely accused.”
“He killed thirteen Muggles, and betrayed your parents to You-Know-Who, boy,” the man said in a slow tone, giving him an odd look. Clearly, he thought Harry was mental, but that did not deter the teen at all. Obviously, this conversation was never going to be easy, for he knew all too well that adults did not like admitting they'd been wrong about something. Especially not if said adults had been after a supposed criminal for years and worked for the organisation that had foregone a proper trial.
“It wasn’t him. Do you know who Peter Pettigrew is?”
“A victim of Black.”
“No sir. Sirius was a victim of Peter. I… well, I’m not sure how familiar you are with the story about the night my parents died?”
“I knew them well,” the Auror confessed, surprising Harry.
“You knew them? Really? How? How were they?” he excitedly questioned.
“They were great people, Harry, and I’m sure they’d be proud of you. I was a member of a… group, which your parents were members of as well, led by Dumbledore. We stood against You-Know-Who during the first war. One day, Dumbledore told them to go into hiding. Their house was protected by a Fidelius Charm, and Black, their trusted friend and Secret keeper, ratted them out to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Pettigrew followed and accused him, after which Black blew up the street. Everything that was left of Pettigrew was a-”
“A finger, I know. Do you know the spell to force an Animagus back into their true form?”
“Naturally...” it appeared that Shacklebolt understood the direction this was going in, for he eyed the cage Harry was holding with far greater interest now. ''Don't tell me-''
With a clank, the cage was set down on the nearest desk and Harry stared at the rat that was running around in circles now. “This is Peter Pettigrew. Sirius convinced my parents to take another Secret keeper, because he himself was targeted by Voldemort whereas Peter was not. However, Pettigrew was a spy who, quite literally, ‘ratted’ them out. In a clever attempt to escape, he cut off his finger and blew up the street while being chased, because Sirius was the only person alive who knew of the change in plans. Pettigrew turned into a rat and escaped through the sewers. He’s an unregistered Animagus, like my dad was…”
It was silent for a long while, but finally, Shacklebolt moved and opened the cage, holding Wormtail in a firm grasp to prevent his escape. “Tonks?”
The woman wordlessly pointed her wand. A flash of light later, a dishevelled Peter Pettigrew cowered on the floor, looking around with wide eyes as he found himself at the receiving end of two wands. The rat appeared too stunned to even start pleading as pathetically as he had back in the Shrieking Shack. Shacklebolt sucked in a sharp breath. “I recognise him indeed. Peter Pettigrew... I had not ever thought you capable of such betrayal. This is… Harry, I must admit that your story didn’t sound very plausible at first, but this… what is to be done with him? You must have had something in mind in brinigng him here.”
“Give him a trial. I want my godfather cleared and that piece of crap in Azkaban for at least twelve years; the same he condemned Sirius to.”
“We'll do what we can.”
Before Pettigrew could be chained and brought away, there was one other pressing matter that needed to be taken care of. Trelawney had prophesized Pettigrew's escape with the phrasing of a servant rejoining his master. It was surely no coincidence that Harry had started dreaming of Voldemort right after the rat's escape. He'd done something, given his master power Voldemort had not had access to before... Even if Harry greatly doubted that someone like Pettigrew could give details of such powerful magic, one thing was clear: Wormtail knew where Voldemort resided. Invaluable information for anyone intent on fighting the so-called Dark Lord. And after the incident with the Stone, where Voldemort had almost killed Harry again, heconsidered himself to be on top of that list.
“Can I speak to him first? I have some… private questions to ask,” Harry grimly asked. Both Aurors hesitated, shooting Pettigrew wary looks. For a moment, Harry thought the request would be denied, which would have been understandable since it most likely was not everyday practice to let children speak to criminals unsupervised. ''Please,'' he pressed. ''It would mean a lot to me. He betrayed my parents. He is the reason why-'' The Aurors exchanged glances at Harry's desperate tone, Tonks giving a half-shrug.
''He did bring Pettigrew here,'' she reasoned. ''The rat doesn't have a wand and the only way out is through this office, so if he escapes we’ll be waiting for him here. I'd say that if anyone can handle stuff like this it would be Pot- sorry, Harry.”
Shacklebolt hummed, seeming a bit harder to convince. ''Is it true that you killed a Basilisk with a sword, Potter?'' he finally asked. Tonks' eyebrows shot up, it looked like this was a story she hadn't heard before. In truth, Harry was also quite shocked that anyone outside of Hogwarts knew. Dumbledore had done his best to hush everything up to not have even more panic break out.
''Yes. A friend of mine had been dragged down to... its nest, and would have ended up as its meal, so I couldn't do nothing.''
The man slowly nodded, giving Harry a smile. “Then I'm sure you'll manage one unarmed man. You can use my office. ''
“Thank you,” Harry murmured, glad for once about his lucky achievements.
“Get in there, now,” he commanded with a glare at Peter. The short man got to his feet, trembling as he walked through the open door, followed by Harry who threw it shut. “Sit down.” He remained standing as Peter shrunk in on himself, sitting down on one of the chairs in the office, which was much tidier than the mess outside.
“Harry, I…”
“Shut up! I ask you questions, you answer them truthfully! I won’t have your pathetic excuses!” He didn't know where this sudden rage was coming from. It bubbled in his veins with all the pent-up emotions that he'd wasted on the wrong person last year. They appeared to have returned with double the force now he had the person responsible for his parents' deaths in front of him, at his mercy at last.
“But-”
“Quiet,” Harry hissed. “Now, I only have one question for you, really. I know that you returned to Voldemort… oh, stop the whimpering!” Harry snapped. “The one thing I want to know is this: Where is he? Where does your Master hide?”
Peter paled and trembled, silently shaking his head back and forth. “I can’t… I can’t… he’ll kill me.”
“Where. Is. He,” Harry hissed in between clenched teeth, planting his hands on the desk and staring at Wormtail.
“I can’t…” the rat whispered, the tremors racking his body growing in violence.
“So you could betray your friends to their enemy, but you can’t betray that enemy to their son?” Harry asked with no small amount of disgust.
“I…”
“TELL ME!” Harry shouted in fury. “If only to honour my parents, your… former friends or whatever you see them as now.” He tried to calm his breathing as he stared at Wormtail over the dark wooden desk, suddenly remembering a part of a conversation he’d had. “I call upon your life debt to me,” he declared, suddenly emotionless. “Answer me truthfully, and your debt to me is considered fulfilled. Besides, I think your Master’s wrath is the last thing you need to worry about in Azkaban.”
Pettigrew didn't answer immediately, still quivering in his boots for a good while, but at last, he whispered: “Riddle manor… Riddle manor, Little Hangleton. He had us move there a few days ago.”
“If this information is false, Wormtail, I’ll personally make sure you’ll receive that Kiss immediately.”
“It isn’t,” the rat fearfully muttered.
“We’ll see.”