Everything we hear is an opinion, not a fact. Everything we see is a perspective, not the truth.
Marcus Aurelius
The little, black rubber ball smacks against the window and rattles the glass each time Draco throws it. Draco knows that the glass is quite fragile and that perhaps he should stop, but he needs something – desperately – to keep his hands occupied. The waiting is unbearable.
Smack, goes the ball. Draco stares at the little hut on the far side of the window. Only a few hours ago, it had been a bustle of activity, but now it was silent and unmoving against the sunset-colored skyline. Smack. He wishes it would move, do something, anything. Who does Sirius Black think he is, keeping them waiting like this? Smack. How long can one be expected to wait for something so important?
"So explain it once more," Harry says, leaning against the wall beside him.
Draco catches the ball and looks over at him. "Third time's the charm?"
"In my defense, it's a damn convoluted plan."
"It really isn't," Draco assures him. "All things considered, it's quite simple."
"You've rounded up all the pets in the school," Harry says, gesturing with one hand to the window. "And now you're not even doing anything with them."
"We don't need to," Draco says. "Not yet, anyway." Smack.
"Why not? You told Professor Dumbledore you thought Sirius Black was posing as a pet!"
"No, I told Professor Dumbledore I wanted everyone to think I thought Sirius Black was posing as a pet," he says. "I helped spread the rumor myself. It's all anyone's been talking about."
Harry frowns. "I don't…"
"Look, Sirius Black came here for revenge," Draco explains. "I couldn't tell you for what, exactly – at a guess, something to do with his incarceration – but I can tell you that revenge is a very personal crime, so he's obviously after someone he knows." Smack.
Harry frowns. "Like me."
"No, not like you. You were just a infant, like everyone else in the Gryffindor Tower. Even the seventh-years were still children when Sirius Black was a free man. It's hard to want screaming, bloody vengeance on someone in nappies, wouldn't you agree?"
Harry seems to concede the point, but still seems confused.
"So… so what, then? He's got to be after someone in the Gryffindor Tower, but it can't be anyone in the Gryffindor Tower?"
"Exactly," Draco says. Smack. Harry's confusion doesn't clear. "It's got to be someone that no one knows is in the Gryffindor Tower. It's got to be someone who's hiding in the Gryffindor Tower. And I'd be willing to bet that they're also an unregistered animagus." Smack.
It takes Harry a moment, but when it hits, his eyes widen. "You think the one he's after is posing as a pet!"
Draco allows himself a grin. Smack.
"That's…" Harry doesn't seem to know what that's.
"So I spread the rumor that I remember seeing him shift into an animagus form, but that I can't remember what animal it is. Head trauma. And in wild overreaction, the Headmaster, in conjunction with Ministry officials, quarantine all the pets in the school to make sure none of them are the escaped convict."
"And you lure Black right into it," Harry finishes. "Because whoever he's after will be in that quarantine, and you get both of them at once. That – Draco, that's brilliant."
"I know," Draco says. Smack.
Harry stares at him wonderingly. "You are incredible," he says, and the reverence in his voice makes Draco suddenly feel a bit fluttery. "Every time I think you've stopped surprising me…"
Draco swallows, though his mouth is dry. He tries not to meet Harry's eyes because he's not sure what he'd do if he did.
"Draco," says a familiar voice suddenly, "Harry."
Relieved at the interruption, because all of these feelings Harry's evoking now are far more than Draco knows how to handle, he looks up. Professor Snape is standing in the threshold, his dark hair tousled with wind and his dark eyes unusually bright.
"We caught him."
"Oh!" Draco pockets the rubber ball. "He's restrained?"
"And disarmed," Professor Snape says. "The headmaster has cleared you to interrogate him, provided you're not alone with him."
"Don't need to be alone with him," Draco says. He grabs his cloak from the floor and throws it on. "Let's go."
They follow him outside. It's a ramshackle little thing, weathered and dilapidated, about a hundred yards away from the castle. The gardening tools usually stored within are in large crates stacked outside, and the single window by its door is lit brilliant gold.
Draco, Harry, and Professor Snape duck through the half-broken door and inside. Cages are stacked high against the walls, and the whole room is full of meowing, hooting, skittering, croaking – and in the far corner, Sirius Black is magically shackled to the wall, flanked by Professors Dumbledore, McGonagall, Flitwick, Lupin, and Sprout. The expression on his face is absolutely murderous.
"Cheers," Draco says as he fingers the rubber ball in his pocket, hoping to defuse the tension.
"Good evening, Mr. Malfoy," Professor Dumbledore says. "I would make introductions, but as I understand it, you've already met."
"I've had the displeasure, yes."
"You're no ray of sunshine, yourself, smartass," Sirius snarls.
"Watch your mouth, Black," Professor Snape says sharply.
"Sirius," Professor Lupin says, more gently, but with an obvious weariness, "being combative will only make the situation worse."
"Remus, you bastard, you've got me in chains. You want me to smile about it?"
"Sirius—" he begins, sighing.
"You've been in chains for most of your adult life," Professor Snape interjects, "surely a few more hours won't kill you."
"Fuck you, Snivellus."
"Don't talk to Professor Snape like that!" Harry says suddenly, moving out from behind Draco.
As Draco suspected he would, Harry's presence abruptly changes Sirius's disposition. The anger falls from his face like water off glass, and he takes in a breath.
"Harry," he whispers.
"He's twice the man you'll ever be," he continues.
"Harry," Professor Snape says, tone inscrutable.
"That—" The sentence falls off, and he frowns. "You don't know what you're talking about."
"I know he never attacked a thirteen-year-old."
"He fought for the man who killed your parents," Sirius says, suddenly angry, "did you know that?"
"Of course I do," Harry scoffs. "And I know he's not that person anymore."
"Oh, isn't he."
"Enough!" Professor McGonagall says suddenly, and when Professor McGonagall calls for silence, Draco has learned, the earth stops spinning lest it makes too much noise. "This is not relevant."
Professor Snape is staring down at Harry in silence. After a moment, he reaches out and gently strokes a hand across Harry's hair. He looks up at him and smiles, and the expression seems to nearly undo Professor Snape where he stands.
Draco clears his throat. "So now that we've got all the formalities out of the way," he says blithely, "let's get back to the matter at hand. The person you're after is in this room. Point them out."
Sirius narrows his eyes at Draco. The tension from the conversation hasn't left him, but it seems to have settled enough to make him willing to cooperate.
"A rat," Sirius says, slowly. "I saw his picture on the cover of the Prophet, on the shoulder of one of the Weasley boys."
"Scabbers?" Harry says suddenly, taken aback. "You're looking for Scabbers?"
"I thought the bastard was dead," Sirius snarls. "When I saw him there – knowing he was alive while James and Lily…"
Lupin looks stricken, Draco notices, and faintly nauseous. "That's not…" he begins, voice wan, but he loses the sentence. "No. He's dead. Peter – that's not—"
"I know," Sirius says. "I know, Remus."
The explanation hits him all at once. "He's the one that betrayed James and Lily Potter to the Dark Lord," Draco says. "He set you up and faked his own murder."
"I would have been able to prove it at the trial," Sirius says through his teeth. "If I'd been given one."
"You'll be given one this time around," Professor Lupin vows. "Headmaster Dumbledore will be sure of it. So will I."
Professor Dumbledore inclines his head. "A corrupt government can be corrupted in either direction if the right strings are pulled by the right people," he says. "At least this time around, you have the testimony of several respected professors – and of course – Severus?"
With a scowl, Professor Snape moves forward, reaching into the inner pocket of his robe and producing a small vial full of clear liquid.
Sirius stares at it – and him – like he's just lowered the moon. "Veritaserum," he says.
"If you ask to be questioned under it, they can't legally refuse you," Professor Snape says, bending down to slide the little bottle into Sirius's pocket.
Sirius doesn't seem to know what to say, though his mouth is open as if he wants to speak.
"You're welcome," Professor Snape snarls.
"Why…"
"Because I've moved on," he answers curtly, straightening and folding his hands behind his back. "But if you fracture my godson's skull again, all bets are off."
Sirius swallows, though not from nervousness. He stares up at Professor Snape with astonishment, gratitude, wonder – all of it far beyond verbal expression.
"Well!" Draco claps his hands. "Shall we get that rat? Harry, you know what he looks like, right?"
They spend a few minutes going through the stacks of rats in their cages until Harry finds Scabbers, tucked away in an unremarkable corner. Draco lifts the cage and studies it – a plain-looking specimen, if a bit ragged and ugly.
"Minerva," says Professor Dumbledore, "transfiguration is your area of expertise. Would you care for the honors?"
One simple spell and a very loud argument later, Sirius Black and Peter Pettigrew are escorted outside and into the custody of the waiting dementors. Professor Dumbledore insists on going with them back to the Ministry of Magic, just to be sure, he tells them.