Chapter 12

How was that possible? Peter Pettigrew was dead. Black had killed him along with twelve innocent muggles. But yet, here he was, scampering across the grounds and towards the passage beneath the Whomping Willow. Was it possible the map was wrong? It had never been wrong before.

If Peter was still alive then that meant that Black hadn't killed him. And if Black hadn't killed him, what else hadn't Black done? Why would Peter Pettigrew, wizarding hero, holder of the Order of Merlin, fake his own death for twelve years? Innocent men didn't hide.

"Harry?"

He heard Susan's voice as if from a distance as he watched Pettigrew's name run over the edge of the map. He looked up at his friends for a moment, and then without a word started sprinting through the corridors. Down the staircase and into the entrance hall, and as he squeezed through the quickly closing doors he heard Neville and Susan begging him to stop.

His friends were desperately trying to keep up as he flew across the grounds towards the Whomping Willow. As soon as he got close he saw the great tree's branches shiver to life, and a few steps later he heard them whistling through the air. He was forced to duck to keep his head, but before the next swipe of it's branches reached him he cast a summoning charm on the base of the tree. Instead of pulling the tree towards him, the charm pulled him towards it. He had hoped to be pulled straight into the tunnel but instead clattered into the willow's trunk, and then, abruptly, it's branches creaked to a stop.

"Harry! What the hell is going on?"

"Pettigrew…. is here… the map…" he wheezed, trying to pull air into his lungs to replace what a particularly large knot had knocked out of him, "showed him disappear… into the tunnel,"

"Well the map must be wrong. Peter Pettigrew is dead," Susan insisted.

Harry didn't deem that worthy of a response as he slid through the wide gap in the willlow's roots and started crawling along the tunnel. Neville looked worriedly at Susan before he followed, and after a second's hesitation she yanked twice on her necklace and crawled in after them. She just hoped her Aunt came quickly.

The tunnel soon raised so that they were able to rush, bent-double, through the twists and turns until they saw a sliver of light shining through a thin gap. Harry barely paused to raise his wand before he burst through and into a dusty room with splintered furniture strewn across the floor and mould creeping across the ceiling. Susan looked towards Neville worriedly. Dark, gloomy, destroyed. It was just like Hannah had warned them about.

There were frantic footsteps and a loud bang upstairs, and Harry didn't even look at them before he crept out into the hall and up the stairs with silent footsteps. Neville and Susan followed behind as they glanced nervously around at the boarded-up windows and the deep gouges that scarred the walls.

They heard a faint muttering when they reached the top of the stairs, drifting out from below the door across the landing.

"Finally. Finally, I've got you. After all these years…"

The voice was hoarse from years of disuse and coloured with gleeful madness, and Neville shivered when it devolved into giggles and cackles. It made the hair on the back of Susan's neck stand up on end and sent a shiver shooting down her spine. Harry, on the other hand, looked about to cross the landing before she grabbed his arm in a vice grip, furiously shaking her head.

"It's Black!" she hissed.

He looked towards the door and then back to her and Neville.

"Stay here."

She glared at him. As if she was going to let him confront Sirius Black by himself! The man was You-Know-Who's right hand for Merlin's sake! He had betrayed Harry's parents! She let him go in there alone, one of them would die. Of that she was sure.

Harry yanked his arm from her grip and crept across the hall. She and Neville followed after a split second's hesitation. Once they reached him he glanced between them and then shoved the door open, the tip of his wand already glowing a poisonous yellow.

The room was a mess; broken furniture littered the floor and an icy wind whistled through a shattered window, making the moth-bitten curtains billow outwards. A ginger cat was purring happily as it lay curled up on a once comfortable armchair in the corner. Next to it was a huge four poster bed that was criss-crossed by deep slashes from which white fluff exploded, and sprawled face down on the floor in front of it was Black. He twitched when the door banged against the wall, pale waxy skin stretching across his limbs as he moved. Bare feet jutted from the bottom of tattered grey robes, the soles raw and littered with bloody cuts, and his long black hair was scraggly and grey in places. He looked like a walking corpse.

Black pushed himself from the floor with one hand and spun round to face them while the other hand clutched a thin, greying rat. He didn't seem to notice that it was biting desperately at his fingers to try and escape even as blood dribbled down his hand.

"Harry," Black said breathlessly, his rotting teeth bared in a smile.

"Is that Pettigrew?" Harry demanded.

The smile twisted into a snarl as Black stared down at the rat in his hand. The rat's squeaking was momentarily cut off when he squeezed, it's eyes seeming to bulge from its head.

"This is the traitor," Black spat, "the bastard who betrayed James and Lily. I've been dreaming about killing him for years. So many different ways to do it, so many ideas. I just haven't decided how best to do it yet."

"He was the secret keeper?"

Black's hateful expression was briefly tempered by guilt until the hate flared to push it back again.

"It was my idea. We knew there was a spy somewhere and everyone would expect me to be James's secret keeper, so that's what we told people. No one would ever expect poor, pathetic Peter Pettigrew of being trusted with something so important, so he would be safe while Voldemort came after me. That way, even if Voldemort tortured me to the point I would have wanted to tell him, just to make it end, I couldn't. We never suspected Peter as the spy. My idea got James and Lily killed."

Tears were cutting through the dirt on Black's cheek even despite the feral snarl that was still writhing on his face as he glared down at the rat in his hand. Harry felt a sliver of pity before it was drowned in fury.

"Can you force him to change?"

Black nodded and held out a hand, seemingly asking for a wand. The look on his face could only be described as hungry.

"You think we're just going to give you a wand?" Neville cried, the slightest of tremors dancing in his voice, "Just because you say that's Pettigrew doesn't mean it is. That could just be a normal rat, and as soon as you get a wand you'll just try and kill Harry!"

Harry's wand had dropped to his side despite the fact that it was still glowing the same ugly yellow, but both Susan's and Neville's were still pointing straight at Black's chest. Black's eyes seemed to flicker for a moment.

"You're Frank and Alice's boy. I'm sorry about what my cousin did to them; they were my friends. If you won't give me a wand, one of you will have to cast the spell to turn Peter here back to his disgusting self," Black said with another firm squeeze, seemingly to take great pleasure in the rat's shuddering breaths, "There is no wand movement, and the incantation is reverte animagi. Make it quick though; I have waited twelve years for this."

"One of you do it," Harry murmured, staring at the squirming rat, "if I do it I won't stop at one spell."

Neville stepped forwards as Black held out the hand that was clutched around the rat, which seemed to struggle even harder as Neville raised his wand.

"Reverte animagi,"

The rat seemed to bulge in Black's fist until he was forced to drop it, and then there a flash of bright light. Harry flinched instinctively, but instead of a curse shooting across the room a head shot up from the floor. The rat's tail was sucked in and it's limbs burst outwards as the rest of it seemed to inflate like a balloon. And then, cowering on the ground against the wall, was a snivelling little man.

"Harry, please," Pettigrew gasped, his eyes darting around the room, "he's lying! I would never – you've got to believe me!"

Black's face contorted.

"How dare you speak to Harry after what you did! After you sold out his parents to Voldemort!"

Pettigrew flinched as if struck. Black snarled and lunged at him, desperately kicking and punching anywhere he could until Harry flicked his wand and Black was thrown off, breathing heavily as he continued to glare hatefully at Pettigrew.

"Th-thank you, Ha-"

Pettigrew's voice died in his throat as Harry crouched in front of him, and the relief at having Black pulled off him swiftly evaporated.

"Hello, Peter."

It was only now, in the quiet, that Susan and Neville felt it. The thick, oozing aura that seemed to be crawling from Harry's pores, seeping across the floorboards and climbing up their legs. It wasn't fury. There was no roaring anger or fiery wrath. It was chilling. Freezing. A whispered promise of pain and death that could echo across all eternity until, finally, the promise was fulfilled. It made them shudder.

Harry was deep in thought as Pettigrew trembled in front of him, even as a part of him shivered in delight at the tangible fear in the rat's eyes. What was an appropriate punishment, he wondered? For a man who had betrayed his friends in service to a man who had torn apart so many thousands of lives and, in doing so, taken his parents from him. Who had allowed an innocent man to spend twelve years in hell on earth, constantly tormented by the worst experiences of his life. What did all that deserve? What was fair? To have the blood boiled in his veins? The skin torn from his muscles? To have his heart squeezed tighter and tighter until, finally, it burst in his chest?

Harry honestly wasn't sure.

"Susan," he said quietly, innocently, almost, "your aunt is the head of the DMLE. How important is Peter here to proving Black's innocence?"

Susan gulped and glanced towards Neville while Black stared at Harry with frightening intensity.

"Very important, I think."

"But Black doesn't have the Dark Mark and Peter does. Would just that not be enough, especially considering the fact he didn't die twelve years ago?"

By the look on Neville face, he too noticed the way that Harry hadn't said "considering the fact he's still alive".

"No," Susan said, swallowing hard, "they would just say Black put it on him and that Black doesn't have the mark because he was a spy, so it would have been too risky."

Harry hummed for a second, still crouched in front of Pettigrew and still staring straight at him. The fact that he was arguing about a man's usefulness dead versus alive didn't seem to bother him. They would have expected Pettigrew to try and escape but he just continued to cower, pinned to the wall by Harry's gaze. This icy malevolence was new, nothing like the hissing, spitting rage he had shown when Susan was petrified. It was a magnitude more terrifying.

"So how will he be more useful alive?" he asked curiously, "He could just lie in his testimony."

Neville cleared his throat.

"They'll use veritaserum. It's not normally used because it's possible to resist, albeit extremely difficult. You'd have to be stubborn as hell, magically powerful and be well versed in the Mind Arts to manage it, and I don't think Pettigrew is any of those things. I think that Legilimency can be used at the same time to make sure they're being truthful, but people still don't trust it sometimes because the Legilimens can lie as well."

"And after the trial?"

There was something dark lurking in the depths of his otherwise innocently curious voice, but they did their best to pretend it wasn't there even as another shudder slinked up their spines.

"He'll probably be sentenced to Azkaban for the rest of his life. It would be fitting for him to suffer like he made Black suffer."

Harry was silent for a few seconds before he hummed again, this time seemingly in agreement. A red bolt of light shot out of his wand and Pettigrew slumped over sideways, and with another wave of his wand Harry bound Pettigrew tightly in ropes and then a body bind for good measure.

"We'll take him and Black back to the castle and then send a message to your aunt," he said. "She can take care of proving Black innocent and with Pettigrew's punishment, although…"

He cast a bone breaker at each of Pettigrew's knees, and then another one for good measure. Just in case the first one didn't work properly, he told himself. His wand stayed pointed at Pettigrew for a few seconds, its tip glowing a dim purple until he eventually flicked his wand back into its holster.

"Just to make sure he can't get away," he shrugged as he turned to face them.

All three people present were staring at him, shocked, and for the life of him he couldn't understand why. Neville and Susan he would have thought would be unsurprised. They must understand, surely, given what happened to their own parents. And even if they didn't, they knew how he had acted when Susan was petrified last year. He'd manged to curb the impulsiveness that had controlled him then but the emotion was still very much the same, if more intense. Would they act any different if those that had killed their parents were sat in front of them?

As for Black, well, from what he knew the Black family was as vicious as they came. A member of the Black family would have done far worse than simply break a few bones, just like Harry was having to hold himself back from doing. Black himself had been itching to kill Pettigrew just moments ago.

It was Susan that finally broke the uneasy silence by asking the question that had been buzzing around Harry's mind ever since he'd been able to wrestle his hate into submission.

"How did you get Pettigrew here?"

Black barked out a rough, grating laugh as he dragged his eyes off Harry and towards the still purring cat.

"This guy brought him to me."

The cat lifted it's head up and seemed to smile at the praise, it's flattened face twisting into a strange type of grin. Neville gasped.

"Crookshanks? Hermione's cat?"

"The smartest creature I've ever met, he is," Black said as he gently stroked the ugly creature. "He recognised Peter for what he was, and when he met me he knew I wasn't just a dog. It took a while, but I managed to tell him what I wanted and why I was here. He didn't like Peter anyway so he was all too happy to help. Peter's been hiding with the Weasleys all these years, acting like a pet – that way if any news about his master reaches the public he can run back to him and claim that he was spying on one of Dumbledore's most trusted allies. Once I failed to get him in Gryffindor tower Peter started hiding, but my friend here found him eventually. Snatched him up in his mouth, and even if Peter had transformed he would have ripped holes in himself from Crookshanks's teeth as he grew. You said that was his name, right? Crookshanks? Well, Crookshanks brought Peter here, and then you three burst in."

Harry felt faintly nauseated at the idea of being thankful to Hermione Granger in any capacity, even if it was just to her cat, and Neville had become very pale. He'd been sleeping in the same room as a grown man for the past two years? And not only a grown man, a Death Eater? He felt the sudden urge to shower and maybe get a medical scan. Who knew what Pettigrew could have done while he was sleeping.

"What do we do now?"

"We wait for my aunt to arrive, then we hand both Pettigrew and Black over to her so that she can set up trials."

"Be nice to finally get one," Black muttered. Susan looked at him in shock.

"You never had a trial?"

"Nope, ol' Barty Crouch couldn't be bothered with that. Just threw me straight in Azkaban."

Susan looked like something in her had cracked as she continued to stare up at Black until it gave way to righteous anger.

"Um," Neville said as he cleared his throat, "I think Mr Black should stay in hiding for now instead of giving himself up to the aurors."

Black seemed faintly amused by the formality behind his curious expression. Neville hurried to explain when he felt Susan's indignant look, clearly having taken his words as a slight against her aunt.

"Malfoy gets a lot of his political power because of the Black family, as Draco is technically the closest male relative to the inheritance line. You could probably challenge it, Harry, because you're related through your grandmother and both you and Malfoy are pretty distant as far as inheritance goes, and then it would come down to whoever the family ring chooses. Well, probably. I'm not an expert on it, and the exact process varies between families-"

"Neville," Susan said, "get to the point."

"Right," he said, glancing between Black and Harry, who was still staring at Pettigrew's limp form. "If Sirius gets taken into Ministry custody with Pettigrew, Malfoy's going to hear about it. And then he'll do whatever he has to do to make sure that he keeps a hold of the Black family."

"He needn't bother," Black spat, "I was disowned anyway."

"I doubt it," Harry said as he finally looked away from Pettigrew. "I know next to nothing about politics but I do know that the Black family is important for some reason, so it would have been pretty stupid to disown the only family member that wasn't supporting Voldemort. What if he lost, just like he ended up doing? As long as you're technically a Black, any of them could just claim they were helping you from the shadows. Spying on Voldemort or something. That way the Black family as a whole can't really lose."

Black's scowl faded into a strange sort of a smile, and then he started chuckling softly to himself.

"That does sound like Arcturus. Always whatever was best for the family," he muttered bitterly.

"You'll have to go to Gringotts to check, but if we work under the assumption that you're not disowned," Neville continued, "then Malfoy will either try to make sure you're found guilty with bribes and threats, or he'll have you killed. More likely that, considering its Malfoy. And no offense to your aunt, Susan, but Malfoy is more than capable of bribing a guard or two."

Susan nodded begrudgingly. Her aunt couldn't do anything about that. There just weren't enough people who wanted to be aurors for them to be picky – she knew full well that some of them would kill Black in his cell for what Malfoy would describe as pocket change.

"Do you have somewhere you can stay?" she asked as she looked at Black.

The man scowled.

"I should do – the house I grew up in, or at least I did until I was kicked out. After that I stayed with the Potters, but as all the Potter properties were destroyed I'll have to go back to that hellhole for a little while, until I finally get a trial at least."

Harry smothered a frown at Black's presumption that he would be welcomed into one of the Potter properties. He had prioritised revenge over the child of his best friend, the heir to the Potter family; until he explained himself adequately, Black could be neither trusted nor relied upon as far as Harry was concerned. Harry chose not to mention that the goblins had written to say that the renovations at his house were now complete, and that he need only go to Gringotts to retrieve the portkey.

"Alright then, we'll take Pettigrew to my aunt and you go to that house. I'll tell my aunt about you privately, and then we'll contact you about arrangements to prove your innocence," Susan said sternly, clearly trying to channel what she had seen of her aunt when she was on duty. At any other time Harry would have found it funny. "Make sure letters get in to where you're staying."

Black nodded and looked at Harry with equal measures of mournfulness and longing. He seemed to struggle with himself for a few moments, and then the longing slowly bled away.

"You look so much like James," he said as the longing in his eyes flared for a second, "but you're not like him. Much more like Lily, I think, and even more like Charlus. They'd be furious at me; I went after Peter instead of looking after you, and because of that I ended up in Azkaban and you…"

He trailed off, looking at Harry questioningly.

"With my Aunt Petunia."

Black scowled, and Harry felt a fierce surge of defensiveness.

"I was very lucky," he said, "she brought me up extremely well and I know that she loves me. I wouldn't be half of what I am now without her."

Black smiled, haunted grey eyes seeming to crinkle in apology.

"Lily always spoke about her fondly, even after she went to Hogwarts and they fell out. I never met her, only heard some stories about her and her husband that Lily's parents had told her. Not a nice man from the sounds of it, or at least he wasn't back then," he said, trying to be diplomatic.

Harry shook his head. "Aunt Petunia divorced him when I was four."

"Well I'm glad you grew up happy; at least my mistake didn't cost you your childhood like I've feared for the past twelve years. I'd like it if we saw each other once I've been proved innocent, assuming everything goes well. Or we can write if you prefer; I know it must be strange for you to suddenly have another person in your life, and one who you've probably spent a good while hating. I am technically your Godfather, even if I don't deserve that title after all this."

Harry gave a small nod in agreement and Black smiled widely. He looked like he wanted to hug him but wisely held himself back.

"We'll go back out the tunnel with Pettigrew while you go out another way into the forest," Susan said. "There might be some aurors around but they should mostly be in Hogwarts. It shouldn't be too hard for you to avoid them."

"Thank you," Black replied.

There were a few seconds of awkward silence before Black left the room with a vicious kick to Pettigrew's ribs and a final heavy look at Harry. Neville and Susan were looking at him strangely, but Harry ignored them as he levitated Pettigrew up with a wordless flick of his wand. They followed him silently down the stairs while Harry bashed Pettigrew into as many walls, corners, and bits of furniture as he could until they reached the tunnel.

Harry reached a hand around to paw at the willow's trunk until he finally found the knot he had clattered into earlier, correctly assuming that that would somehow stop the tree from trying to kill him. Once the creaking of branches subsided, he levitated Pettigrew out of the tunnel and clambered out after him.

He saw red light flare to his right and acted on instinct, allowing Pettigrew's body to drop to the floor so that he could swat the incoming spell away. His near instantaneous reply shot across the grass until it smacked into a silver shield with a loud, echoing gong. It was only then that he processed their deep red auror robes, even if he remained ready to fight if needed. Anybody could wear red robes.

"Everyone! Wands down!" Madam Bones shouted as she dropped the shield that had stopped one of her men from being torn apart.

Harry kept his wand raised while the aurors obeyed Madam Bones order, though her eyes didn't leave him even as Neville emerged from the tunnel.

"That was a very unpleasant spell, Harry."

"I'm sure you understand my defensiveness given what happened last time someone cursed me," he said as he continued to watch the aurors suspiciously.

Madam Bones pursed her lips, but luckily Susan crawling from the tunnel snatched her attention before she could say anything else to him.

"Susan, what happened?" she asked as she and her aurors slowly approached.

Susan's eyes flickered before she pointed towards the body on the ground behind Harry in reply.

"That's Peter Pettigrew."

Madam Bones frowned while the aurors started whispering between themselves behind her.

"Peter Pettigrew is dead," one insisted with a rasp, "saw the aftermath myself. All we found of him was a finger – Black blew up the damn street so bad the rest of him was splattered all over the walls."

Harry almost snorted at the idiotic statement and would have if he wasn't so angry about it. How could people be that stupid? Blown up with such amazing force that he was reduced to vapour, except for a single finger which was for some reason completely unaffected, hence allowing for an easy identification. And these seasoned, well trained investigators had looked at all that and thought, "yep, that makes perfect sense."

He of course ignored the fact that he'd accepted it as well up until about an hour ago.

Scowling, he flicked his wand to send Pettigrew flying through the air until he landed with a thump and rolled to a stop at Madam Bones feet.

"Doesn't look dead to me."

The assembled aurors let out a collective gasp when they saw him, especially when they noticed the tail of a black tattoo peeking out from beneath a tattered sleeve.

"It was him that betrayed my parents, not Sirius Black. He spent twelve years with dementors for something he didn't do; probably would have helped if you'd bothered to give him a trial."

The aurors broke out into hushed chatter before Madam Bones silenced them with an irritated wave of her hand. Frowning, she cast several spells on the unconscious man before she let herself sigh. There were no glamours, no transfigurations nor any other spells on him beyond binding spells. The man on the ground in front of her was indeed Peter Pettigrew, the tragic victim of Sirius Black's murderous rampage. And yet here he was, twelve years later with the Dark Mark on his arm. This was going to be a political shitshow.

"Shacklebolt, take Pettigrew to a holding cell. Vance, you go with him. Make damn sure no one sees you and that no one finds him before the Wizengamot session on the 26th. I'd need to declare my reasons if I wanted to call an emergency session, which would give any interested parties time to prepare. The rest of you, not a word about this to anyone. You mutter even a syllable about Peter Pettigrew I will make sure you regret it."

"Why keep it a secret?"

Madam Bones had almost forgotten that Susan and her friends were still there until Harry spoke up.

"Harry, you can't understand the why. You don't understand the politics."

"Malfoy wants Black dead, or at the very least back in Azkaban. The politics of that – the Wizengamot and whatever else – don't matter. Malfoy is going to find out about Pettigrew whatever you do; he's a slippery little bastard with more than enough money to bribe every auror, secretary and paper pusher in the Ministry, and he's got Fudge on a leash. He will find out. There's no point trying to hide it from him. You'll buy a day, maybe two. Without Pettigrew I imagine he'll be able to spin it as an imposter or even just as a lie, and he'll be able to keep the Kiss on Sight order on Black and then he never gets a trial. He keeps whatever it is that he wants from the Black family. And how can anyone really argue with him when it's the first they're hearing of Pettigrew being alive as well?

"On the other hand, we tell everyone. He can't get rid of Pettigrew because then everyone will look to the man who most benefits from it – him. And he can't spin it either, because we've all seen the traitor. A dozen aurors, the head of the DMLE, her niece, the future Lord of House Longbottom, and the Boy-Who-Lived. Maybe we could even parade him around Hogwarts before you go. Malfoy has a much harder job to spin it then."

Madam Bones furrowed her brows in thought for a few seconds before she nodded slightly. Harry was right; Malfoy would find out regardless. She really did despise that man.

"Very well."

"He's an unregistered animagus – a rat," Harry said. "Make sure you ward his cell accordingly."

"And make sure everyone knows that he has the Dark Mark," Neville piped up.

Pettigrew was dragged away while Madam Bones and Susan had a whispered conversation. It was clear even from the other side of the privacy charm that Susan was telling her about Black, especially given the stern glare Susan was given before Madam Bones switched to glare at him across the lawn. He supposed she was a bit miffed that they'd chased a possible death eater onto the grounds when there were dementors around, but it wasn't like he'd forced them to follow.

When they were led back to the castle by Madam Bones Susan visibly cringed at the look they received from Dumbledore as he stood in the centre of the entrance hall with McGonagall at his side, still in her nightgown. Neville looked defiant, and Harry simply didn't care.

Madam Bones explained that Peter Pettigrew had been captured, to Dumbledore's very clear surprise, and when she had said that Pettigrew was marked the headmaster had paled to such an extent his skin appeared transparent. Guilt for allowing Black to rot in Azkaban, Harry assumed. McGonagall gasped and looked towards Dumbledore in shock.

Once Madam Bones had left with a final hug and significant look at her niece, McGonagall escorted Neville back to Gryffindor tower while Dumbledore led he and Susan into the basement.

"How did you know Peter Pettigrew was here at Hogwarts?"

Harry stayed silent.

"Very well," Dumbledore said eventually, "but did you not consider the danger you put both yourself and your friends in? Not only because of Peter, but also because of the dementors?"

"Peter Pettigrew is a pathetic excuse of a wizard and always has been. As for the dementors, they are not a problem. You can ask Lupin about that when you tell him his best friend has spent the last twelve years in Azkaban for a crime he didn't commit because he wasn't given a trial. You're the head of the Wizengamot, are you not? Aren't trials your job?"

With that Harry took the last few steps along the corridor, tapped the password to the common room against the barrels and disappeared into the Hufflepuff common room without a word. He'd been able to rationalise – or more accurately ignore – most of his feelings of suspicion against Dumbledore up until now. He didn't trust him, but he'd never believed he was in any way malicious. His guilt, heartbreak, even, had always seemed genuine. But now, there was just too much for him to believe that Dumbledore was anything other than a chessmaster with remarkable skill in acting.

From what he could piece together from the unintentional breadcrumbs that Hagrid and occasionally Lupin would drop his parents had been part of some sort of resistance group during the last war, and if they were in it and Lupin was in it then he would bet anything that Sirius Black was in it too. Dumbledore had said he was friends with his parents so presumably he was part of it as well, maybe even the leader. Probably the leader. And yet he hadn't bothered to properly investigate the deaths of two of his friends, which also happened to be the most famous set of murders in the history of the magical world, and had allowed another of his supposed friends to rot in Azkaban without even a trial?

He was sure that Dumbledore had an ulterior motive about him – he had always believed that – but now he had finally discarded the belief that his wellbeing would be an important factor in whatever plans Dumbledore had made. After all, any man who could condemn someone he called a friend to twelve years of hell without making damn sure he belonged there was not one who cared much for others happiness.

Of course, that realisation didn't change much. He had very little interaction with the headmaster, and Dumbledore clearly didn't know about any of his personal studies. If he did then Harry had no doubt he would have been spoken to. He'd just have to keep an eye out a little more, and maybe start learning more about the breaking and analysis of wards rather than just their runic bases. Best check on the ones that Dumbledore had put up around his home.

The next day Susan and Neville acted strange around him. He couldn't quite put his finger on what it was exactly, but something was… off. He'd occasionally catch them glancing at each other and having a silent conversation that would immediately end once they realised he was watching, and when he went to the Come and Go room they didn't question him on where he was going as they usually would. Instead, they shared a significant look and then continued with whatever they were doing.

It all came to a head the day after on the train back for Christmas. Being in an otherwise empty compartment together made the sudden change all the more obvious. Everything felt stilted. Fractured.

"What's up with you two?" he finally asked.

They shared yet another look, and Harry fought the urge to growl at them.

"Is this about Pettigrew?"

"That," Susan said slowly, "and afterwards. The spell you used would have ripped Dawlish to pieces if it connected – muscles off of bone, tendons and ligaments off of muscles. Why did you use it? Why do you even know a spell like that? Is that what you've been learning when you disappear? Dark Magic?"

Harry scoffed. There was no such thing as Dark Magic. There was magic and there was what you used it for, and he was using it to defend himself. He could just as easily wingardium leviosa someone head first into a ceiling or cast augamenti down someone's throat until they drowned as he could use the entrail expelling curse or the blood-boiling curse.

"I'm sorry, do you expect me to go into a fight with Voldemort armed entirely with stunners and disarming charms? You think that will cut it when he throws killing curses around like a toddler throws food? As for why I used it, I thought I was under attack. That's what Hannah said she thought she saw, and even though I think divination is bullshit she'd been right up until then. Why would I not use it?"

It was clear that they didn't like that answer. The first part they seemed to understand, vaguely at least. Their morals didn't like it, but behind their protests they could understand the necessity of having the tools to kill, especially given his position. From their grimaces, though, Harry wasn't sure either of them would be capable of using them if the need arose. The final sentence, however, they frowned fiercely at.

"You could have used something else first."

"Best to end any fight as quick as you can, and you don't do that by using nice spells. I'd rather someone else die than I do simply because I decided to hold myself back."

If anything, their frowns deepened.

"And Pettigrew? You cursed him when he was unconscious."

"So that there was no chance he could escape. If he woke up he could have just transformed into his animagus form and ran off."

"He was under a body bind as well!" Neville protested.

"Which could have failed. Hell, transforming could break the spell for all I know. The knees are far too delicate to fix quickly and by anyone other than a trained mediwizard or mediwitch. And even if he had enough time, skill, and a wand with which to heal himself he would have been in far too much pain to go far."

"And you wanted to cause him pain," Susan said.

"Yes," Harry hissed, his eyes set, "he got my parents killed. Are you saying that if I put Antonin Dolohov in front of you right now, you wouldn't want to hurt him? And Neville, if you were face to face with Crouch and the Lestranges, you wouldn't want to hurt them? Kill them, even?"

Neville looked… well, Harry wasn't entirely sure what Neville looked like. His face was hard, as if chiselled from stone, and twisted in a strange expression somewhere between a growl and a grimace. Susan on the other hand was shaking her head adamantly while looking stubbornly downwards.

"No, I would stun him and make sure he's punished properly."

Harry thought that her voice was a little too firm, but he chose not to comment on it. Susan put far too much faith in the system even despite the fact that she knew exactly how corrupt the system was. The fact that her aunt was one of the cogs seemed to make her think that the rest of the machine was made from the same material her aunt was, when in actuality Madam Bones seemed to be a single gleaming component surrounded by rust.

The rest of the journey to Kings Cross passed quietly. Neville seemed a bit distracted, and Susan was reading her arithmancy textbook with a single-minded focus that he'd never seen from her before. The train eventually slowed to a stop and they promised to write just like they did every holiday, and then they quietly filed off of the train.