Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction based on the Harry Potter universe. All recognizable characters, plots and settings are the exclusive property of J.K Rowling. I make no claim to ownership.
Acknowledgments: Thank you to my betas Umar, Luq707, Yoshi89 and Fezzik for their work on this story.
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Harry Potter and the Dark Lord's Equal
By ACI100
Year 2: The Looming of Shadows
Chapter 24: Confessions and Conclusions
June 5, 1993
The Great Hall
8:21 AM
The Mishandled Mystery of Sirius Black
By Rita Skeeter
Oh boy, this was going to be interesting. Not the way Harry had anticipated starting the day off. In an hour, he would be flying above the pitch, trying to win Gryffindor their first Quidditch Cup in nearly a decade. He had of course known of the rumblings pertaining to Sirius's case, rumblings that both Dumbledore and Augusta had been quietly encouraging. Yet those rumblings had been supposed to stay on the down-low, for now.
Then again, Skeeter covering it might not be a bad thing. It would certainly add more validity to said rumours in the eyes of the general public. The information would also be spread far more efficiently, and there would be little need for Augusta to continue risking her own neck by quietly pushing them along. More than anything, though, Harry wondered how the hell Skeeter could have possibly figured any of this out. It was on the down=low and the woman didn't even have a Wizengamot seat.
Sighing, he picked up the paper and began to read.
Rumours have circulated as of late regarding a case long past, a case which the world at large believed to be as cut and dry as any day-to-day fact we may take as law.
These rumours seemed to indicate that perhaps the world was wrong.
It appears as though sources unknown sought to look further into the case of one Sirius Orion Black. For those unaware, Black was accused of the murder of more than a dozen muggles the morning after You-Know-Who was defeated. The memories of muggles who survived this attack indicate this did indeed happen.
Yet apparently, some in the Wizengamot have doubts as to whether or not the man may truly be guilty.
It is true that those memories were never made public. As a matter of fact, the trial records on Black's case are completely sealed. This isn't unheard of, nor is it even uncommon. Actually, in the case of Black, the apparent right hand of You-Know-Who himself, it isn't even surprising. Trial records are often classified if information is revealed during the trial that the Ministry does not want made public.
So surely that is the end of this drama, right?
Not by a long shot!
Through my various sources, none of which I can obviously name, this reporter did some digging into the trial records themselves. After intensive investigations conducted by my friends in high places, I came to a startling realization.
It turns out that the records aren't classified at all.
They don't exist!
Sirius Black never had a trial!
The article went on to explain exactly how illegal that was. It even speculated as to whether or not this was because the Ministry wanted to cover up just how innocent Black was. Perhaps it was a ploy to keep the moral high. Skeeter's end hypothesis was that she thought him guilty, but perhaps of lesser crimes. Perhaps the true right hand of Voldemort had escaped and Black, while still perhaps a murderer, had been framed for that infraction.
It didn't matter.
It was a step in the right direction. This hadn't been part of the plan devised by Dumbledore, but it was certainly a welcome occurrence, if admittedly unexpected. From across the hall, the Gryffindor youth did his best to catch Dumbledore's eye. It wasn't difficult, and the man offered him a brief smile and contemplative nod before going back to his conversation with Professor McGonagall.
His friends were eyeing him speculatively. "I had nothing to do with this," he assured in a low voice. "I'm not complaining, mind you, but not my doing."
Ron grumbled. "This might be the first time that Skeeter woman has done anything useful."
"Probably the last, too," put in Neville.
Harry shrugged. "I won't count on her in the future, but I'll take all the help I can get." He then turned his attention to his other piece of mail. He'd been just about to open it when the Prophet had arrived, but the rather lurid headline had swiftly pulled his attention away from the more personal piece of mail he now opened with well-practiced precision.
Harry,
Good luck in your Quidditch match! I'm sure you'll do great! It must be so nice to just be able to fly freely after all of the chaos that went on at Hogwarts this year. I'm sorry I haven't been able to write much since we spoke about the Ventus Maximus spell. I've just been quite busy. I'm really glad the spell worked well for you though. It's very impressive you managed to cast it at all. My friends couldn't believe it when I said you had done it. They still haven't quite been able to do it.
I heard Hogwarts doesn't have any exams this year. I'm not sure how I would feel about that, but I guess it's nice that you at least don't have to worry about them. Not that they would really worry you at all, but I know how it feels when all of your friends are stressed out over them. It's never a fun experience.
I did have a reason for writing to you though, something I thought you might be interested in.
There is a major duelling tournament in France this summer. It is the European Championships, and there are a number of different age brackets. There are U14, U16, U17 and Open Class brackets. It's a major tournament and I know from your letters that you duel quite often. With your talent at your age, I honestly think you could compete in the U14 division and do very well, possibly even win. I won that bracket when I entered, though I was turning fourteen in about six months. I'm sure you would do very well though, and it would be a chance for us to meet up again!
I'm not sure how your guardians would feel about it, but I'm sure I could ask mama and papa about letting you stay with us. I'm sure they would be perfectly okay with it. Like papa said, the Delacours and Potters were allies in the past. I'm sure he would like to have that happen again in the future.
I obviously don't expect an answer right away, but let me know what you think. I would help you prepare for the tournament the best I could as well.
Good luck and have fun!
Sincerely,
Gabrielle
Wow… that was interesting. That raised all kinds of possibilities and prospects, but none that he would be considering at the moment. For one, if he told Neville that the girl he'd been taunting him about for months had effectively just invited him over, he would never live it down.
For another, despite all the other craziness this morning, he did have a Quidditch match he needed to focus on. One he needed to focus on quite soon, actually.
About two hours later, out on the Quidditch pitch...
Cho Chang was a bloody annoying seeker to play against.
Harry was obviously the more skilled out of the two. That was obvious to any educated observer with a pair of eyes. Despite that, Cho's style was truly a pain. She was an extremely sound defensive player who employed a block-first style. Worse still was that when she wasn't blocking, she was persistently tailing Harry and no matter what wild move he pulled, she wouldn't be deterred.
As she blocked yet another attempt to lose her, he snarled, causing the corners of her lips to twitch upwards.
Fine then, if that was how she wanted to play, he was going to make her life a living hell.
Knowing that she would follow and that he was both the faster and more agile flyer, Harry dove straight towards the cluster of flying figures far below them, drawing Cho Chang into a prolonged, chaotic game of tag that he was fairly sure she had no chance of winning.
Bless the poor, naive Ravenclaws who would stick to a game plan no matter what.
She followed him.
Meanwhile, in the stands…
The stands which flanked all sides of the Hogwarts Quidditch pitch were packed near to capacity no matter what game was taking place. This morning, with it being the Quidditch final that would decide which house took the Quidditch Cup, they were packed even more tightly. Parents, students, staff and random visitors alike had filtered into them this morning, which meant that by the time Lavender Brown, Fae Dunbar and Eloise Midgeon had tried to take seats, there had been none left near the mass of scarlet that was their house.
They ended up sitting with the Slytherins, hoping their red uniforms would be enough to stand out and alert Parvati to where they sat whenever she arrived.
That had been ages ago.
"Are you sure she's coming?" Fae asked Lavender with a concerned expression.
"For the hundredth time, Fae, she told me she was coming! Have you not seen the way she practically hangs off of Harry lately? Do you think she would miss this for the world?"
"Where is she then?"
"How am I supposed to know?"
Several rows of seats above them, a set of full, pink lips belonging to a soft, angelic face framed by blonde hair curved upwards, but their owner managed not to grin like a psychopath as she watched the action still unfolding on the pitch.
She was perhaps the only member of Slytherin House who actually wanted Gryffindor to win, if for no other reason than she knew it would mean the world to one of her few true friends. Speaking of Harry Potter, it seemed as though his new strategy was working far better than his original one.
To say that Cho Chang was struggling would be putting it kindly.
Back out on the pitch…
It was less than two minutes after Harry switched tact that he realized he was going to beat Chang to the snitch. She was fiercely committed to what she had evidently been told to do — shadow him at all costs. The problem was that he was riding a faster broom and was a better natural flyer. He weaved effortlessly through the players and balls, occasionally snatching the quaffle away from a chaser and passing it to one of his own. Chang, on the other hand, was having a load of problems.
As Harry swiped the quaffle from Roger Davies, dove in between the two Ravenclaw beaters and pelted straight towards the goal hoops at the far end of the pitch, he heard, from behind him, the telltale signs of yet another collision involving his exceedingly frustrated counterpart. After scoring, (a goal that put Gryffindor up by fifty) he could sense the end of the match was near. With this gut feeling, he decided to abandon his plan of dragging Chang into complete and utter chaos and actively search out the snitch once more.
He'd suspected that after being bounced around like a tennis ball while trying to chase him, she would be more hesitant to follow him from then on out. It turned out this wasn't the case. It was annoying, but it ended up being Chang's downfall.
Oliver Wood had a brilliant mind for Quidditch. He could watch a game and judge a player's tendencies like no other, regardless of position. He knew that Chang would tail Harry, and he knew his own seeker had a sort of sixth sense for when the elusive golden snitch would finally emerge.
And thus they had planned for this inevitability, and it was time for Harry to put into practice a move he had perfected over many weeks of persistent practice.
He dove and like clockwork, Chang recklessly followed.
Seconds later, the crowd were on their feet, openly applauding the brilliance of the Gryffindor seeker after the twelve-year-old boy had perfectly executed a wronski feint. Before they could even return to their seats, the match was over, and an elated Harry Potter had the golden snitch clasped firmly in his grasp, a loud, feral cry of victory being wrenched from his lips by the ecstasy that burned through him like fiendfyre. His cry was drowned out by the noise of the crowd and within seconds, his teammates were upon him and the celebration had begun.
Gryffindor House congregated at centre field, hoisting their team high atop their shoulders as all seven members of the Quidditch team took it in unison to handle the prestigious cup that had eluded their house for most of a decade. Even Professor McGonagall looked jubilant, and to Harry's sheer delight, Snape looked as livid as ever. He may have disliked him a bit less after spending months studying Occlumency with him, but he would almost definitely never like the man. It was just what the greasy git deserved for his open prejudice towards Gryffindor House.
Speaking of Gryffindor, all of the house's euphoric members had formed a protective ring, preventing any non lion in the crowd from interrupting the ecstatic celebration going on at centre field.
Except one figure.
One figure who had been completely invisible, but who had managed, (with a fair bit of difficulty, mind you) to levitate a piece of parchment into the robes of the prodigal seeker who had just stolen the show.
The message on said piece of parchment was short and blunt, but it was every bit as important as its few words indicated.
The normal classroom as soon as you are physically able.
I'm sorry but this is important, I promise.
DG
Some time later, in an abandoned classroom…
Harry really did like Daphne. The fact that he was complying to her sudden request, which, at the moment, he viewed as outrageously unfair of her was testament to that. That didn't mean he wasn't intensely annoyed with her. He should have been with his other Gryffindors, rushing up to their tower where he would revel in the celebrations to come.
He very much still planned on doing just that, but it would apparently be delayed by whatever Daphne Greengrass had in store for him. He would have ignored a similar summons by most people, even those whom he liked.
But not Daphne.
Daphne was a lot of things, but overdramatic wasn't one of them. Not unless she was doing it to annoy or fluster him, that was. And he didn't think she would go so far as to request his presence now just to annoy him. She knew how much the victory would mean to him, and she inevitably wouldn't interrupt it unless she genuinely did have something that she viewed as being more important.
He wondered what could possibly be more important. He wondered that the whole way to the abandoned classroom, hidden under his cloak of invisibility right up until he stood in front of the door.
Then he turned the handle, pushed said door open and wondered no more.
Instead, he froze, eyes practically bulging out of his head at the sight in front of him. "Daphne… what the hell are you doing!?"
Daphne was kneeling down on the floor, but it wasn't her that caught Harry's attention.
It was what… or, who she was kneeling in front of.
Parvati Patil was seated on the floor with her legs clearly bound together and her wrists tied to a desk. Harry suspected that a sticking charm was in play to keep both the desk and, by extension, Parvati in place. She was also clearly silenced.
Harry had his wand out in an instant and was halfway through casting the counter to the leg-locker when Daphne's opening statement, spoken in a voice so soft and calm that it chilled him to the bone, brought him up short.
"Doing what is best for you, because you're too noble to do it yourself."
"W-what? Daphne! What the hell? Let her go! She hasn't done anything wrong! This is ridiculous." He stared pointedly at her, ignoring the fact that she was quite a bit taller than him, which really didn't help his case when trying to argue. Having to look up to meet her eyes really took away from the whole intimidation factor. Damn girls and their earlier growth spurts! "People don't like to be restrained, Daphne. Do you not remember?"
He expected the rather harsh reminder to crack her composure but he was mistaken. Her eyes simply flashed. "Do you really think this is the same thing? Me just snapping for no reason. Merlin, Harry, I can learn from my mistakes, you know. People can change." She gestured to the bound girl on the floor. "And people can also not be what they seem."
"Daphne, I don't know what you're on about, but this is ridiculous! Let her go!"
"If you're so confident, you should have no problem with my idea."
"Your… what now?"
"My plan, Harry. I was suspicious about her ages ago, but you wouldn't listen. You're a better person than I am, Harry. I will admit that. The problem is that being a good person isn't always a good thing. Good people are usually the easiest people to manipulate, because they're usually too noble to take you for anything but a saint." She looked pointedly from Parvati to Harry. "Dumbledore has been criticized for this for years, and I think you're following his example."
"What do you think Parvati did? Surely nothing is bad enough for this-"
"If you would let me finish," Daphne bit back, "maybe you might actually find out." Grudgingly, Harry fell silent. "As I was saying, I've been suspicious for ages, but you didn't believe me. So, I decided to do some investigating. I followed you back to your common room a couple of times, and Patil always took the chance to speak with you. It was as if she had memorized your schedule. Like she knew the exact best time she might actually get to speak with you alone."
"So? We're friends."
"Are you really?"
"Yes, we are." Then, another thought struck him. "Hang on — how did you follow us?"
"The same way I always used to play tricks on you by being invisible." She held up her hand, the one that gleamed with the ring marking her as the heiress of the Greengrass family. "This has a built in disillusionment charm. It's not as good as an invisibility cloak, but it does the trick. Especially when the people you're following aren't expecting to be followed." She scowled down at Patil. "Or don't know how to cast wards, apparently.
"One day, I followed Patil after you two broke off. I followed her right into a room with her sister. And you know what they talked about, Harry?"
Suddenly, Harry found himself far less certain of the situation at hand. The nearly comical widening of Parvati's red, swollen, tear filled eyes didn't assure him any, either. "What's that?" He suspected he knew already, but at this point, playing Daphne's game was probably his best option.
"You," she said significantly. "But not just you. How the Patil's father was putting pressure on Parvati to 'scoop up the Boy-Who-Lived' to strengthen their trade routes in Magical Britain."
Deafening silence suddenly filled the room as Harry's blood ran cold. This couldn't be happening. Parvati was so innocent, so…
Oh, Merlin!
The ancient book in first year, the absurdly expensive watch this past Christmas. The way she had slid into his group while the rest of the school ostracized him.
This was not good.
"C-can you prove this?"
Daphne's smile really was a terrifying thing at that moment. She reached into her pocket as she smiled, withdrawing a vile of clear liquid. "Of course I can, Harry. I would never make a claim I couldn't back up. Why do you think this has taken so long? Veritaserum isn't exactly easy to brew, no matter how good I am at potions."
He'd heard of that potion. Actually, he'd only heard of it because Daphne had told him about it. "Isn't that… like… very illegal to brew without a license."
"It's a risk I'm willing to take. Think of this way: if this works, Patil won't exactly be able to snitch, since she'll have bigger problems. If it doesn't," she shrugged, "I guess your 'friend' wasn't lying to you and that can be my punishment for being such a terrible person." She looked pointedly from a very conflicted Harry to a very panicky Parvati. "Shall we begin then?"
Reluctantly, hating himself for his sudden show of moral blindness, Harry nodded. There could be no more deceptions this year.
Daphne knelt down once more, administered the potion, and relinquished her silencing charm. "What is your name?" she asked.
"Parvati Patil."
"What year are you in at Hogwarts?"
"Second."
"What is your sister's name?"
"Padma Patil."
All of those answers were given in a dull, monotone voice, and Harry's dread only continued to build.
"All seems in order," Daphne said with a predatory gleam dancing in her eyes, making their sapphire like colour seem to brighten just a shade. "Now, let's really begin."
And so they did — and so Parvati told.
Later that night, in the Gryffindor dorms…
What a fucking day.
From the highest of highs to the lowest of lows in a matter of minutes.
Harry Potter had gone from the soaring euphoria of winning the Quidditch Cup, to crashing down head-first into the pit of sadness and self-hatred after he'd found out that he had effectively been played like a puppet for most of the year. Everything Daphne said had checked out. Parvati's father had demanded she ensnare him. The eventual goal was for them to marry, and for the Patil's to use Harry as their way into British trade, expanding their trade empire from Asia into Europe.
Suddenly, he'd gone from being completely furious with Daphne to being so much more furious with himself. How had he failed to notice all of the signs? How had he failed to notice how Parvati had been manipulating him? How had he never even gleaned an inkling?
Daphne had actually been very apologetic after Parvati had been sent out with threats of hell to pay if the events that transpired in that room ever became public knowledge. She wasn't in the least bit apologetic about exposing Parvati, nor did she bat an eye at the methods she'd chosen. What she was truly sorry for was dumping all of this upon Harry after he'd just experienced such a major victory.
He could hardly be upset with her. It had been the best day for it. Everybody was surging out to the pitch, and Parvati was almost always the last Gryffindor awake. It had been childishly easy for Daphne to hang back, disillusioned, and capture Parvati while nobody was near to see it. And if Daphne hadn't exposed Parvati… Merlin, Harry didn't even want to know where that situation could have led.
That wasn't to say he was happy.
He was furious and rather depressed. He spent much of that afternoon duelling Neville, Ron, Dean and the twins. He'd told all of them what had happened, and they had helped him safely burn off steam for the rest of the day, trying to cheer him up all the way. Hell, even Daphne had been there to offer her support. Not even Ron had complained. According to him, she had gained an exception from his seemingly universal hatred of all things Slytherin. Apparently, after helping his best mate realize he'd been used for months, Ron decided she was "alright".
Harry knew he had been changed forever by the encounter.
He would never trust so easily again. Dumbledore had admitted to that weakness. It had been the very weakness which had led to the mistake that had basically sentenced Harry to ten years of hell. After seeing the potentially horrid things such a weakness could lead to, he would be breaking the habit at all costs.
Hell, he could already feel himself doing it, though he thought he might actually be a touch too paranoid as Ron scrambled frantically around the dorm room that night in a fair bit of distress.
Despite the oddly ominous feeling in the pit of his stomach, surely the escape of Ron's rat couldn't mean anything of significance.
June 18, 1993
The Room of Requirement
9:41 PM
Ron never did find Scabbers in the almost two weeks between losing the rat and their second to last day at the castle. Not much happened, honestly. Parvati was now a sort of outcast aside from Lavender Brown, Fae Dunbar, and Eloise Midgeon, but that had really been about it. Harry had exchanged a few letters with Gabrielle and Augusta and was now seriously considering signing up for the European Championship duelling tournament in France under the U14 class, and he had continued his lessons with Flitwick, Dumbledore, and Snape.
Oh, and Harry had begun looking through the Restricted Section with the help of his cloak for anything that might solve some of the problems Ginny was experiencing.
So far, he had been completely unsuccessful.
Earlier that morning, the first real event of significance since that day almost two weeks prior had taken place.
That had been the Leaving Feast. Dumbledore had given a fairly rousing speech about the resilience of those at Hogwarts castle, and how the trials and tribulations of that year would only serve to make each and every single one of them better people in the long run. Then, for the second consecutive school year, the House Cup had been presented to Gryffindor, largely thanks to the heap of points Harry had earned after his role in the defeat of the Heir of Slytherin and closure of the Chamber of Secrets back in February.
That next morning at 11:00, they would all be taking the train ride back to London, and it would be the summer holidays once more.
But that was no reason to slack off.
Harry certainly wasn't, anyway. Currently, he was attempting to not be defeated by Albus Dumbledore, who twirled his wand fluidly without moving his feet at all, effortlessly diverting all of Harry's attacks and countering with precise, powerful spell casting.
Harry did manage to transfigure a wall of solid stone in front of him to block Dumbledore's blasting curse. He had actually achieved that feat about two weeks ago. This time, he even managed to banish the rubble towards Dumbledore, who looked very impressed for all of a second before transfiguring said rubble into a pack of various, rabid animals which charged towards Harry. He sighed, lashing out with Flagrete, which he could now perfectly control. The long, spiked whip of flames sliced through the oncoming attackers and Dumbledore actually beamed at Harry's accomplishments. He really was getting good. Good enough that the twins could scarcely ever beat him any more.
Unfortunately, Albus Dumbledore was not the twins, and Harry knew that within the next minute or so, he would be overwhelmed. Still, did it ever feel good to be improving at such a rapid rate with the help of a fantastic support system.
One day, he would be ready.
One day, Voldemort would fall for good.
June 19, 1993
The Gryffindor dorms
10:06 AM
Harry had hauled what he had then believed to be all of his things down into the common room, joining Ron, Dean and Neville as they were about to depart for the Hogwarts Express before he realized Hedwig's cage was still up in the dorm room. He had told the owl to fly back to Longbottom Manor the night before, after his final practice of the year with Professor Dumbledore. He'd been about to just summon the cage when he realized the dormitory door was shut, so that would be no use to him.
Quickly, he scrambled back up the stairs and into the dorm room. He got about halfway into the dorm before he realized something was wrong.
Glancing around, he could see nothing obviously out of order. Despite that, he had the intense, unshakable feeling that he was being watched, and that whomever or whatever was watching him had nothing but ill intent. Thankfully, he had rather gifted, rather helpful pen pals. Discreetly, as not to alert whatever might be stalking him that he was doing so, Harry slid his wand into his hand. Then, he whirled around.
"Homenum Revelio!"
There was a bluish glow that omitted from under Ron's bed.
Harry froze. Nothing human could be under Ron's bed.
And then the rat scuttled out from under the bed and made for the door and a sudden, jarring realization crossed Harry's mind.
He'd progressed admirably far into his mother's journal this year. Actually, he had gotten through her Hogwarts years. Much of that progress had been made in the relatively stress free months following the closure of the Chamber of Secrets. His father had been an Animagus, as had two of his best friends — Sirius Black and Peter Pettigrew. He had also discovered, to his utter delight, that the Marauder's Map had been created by his father and his friends.
All of that was very interesting, but he didn't actually know what animals the boys could transform into. In spite of that, one fact stood vividly out to him.
Not even a fact, per se.
A nickname, one that had been written on the very map he now owned several decades later.
The idea was crazy, but it lined up perfectly with everything else that had happened this year.
"Colloportus!" Harry's well-aimed jet of pure, black energy collided with the dormitory door and it slammed shut, leaving Harry alone in the room with the rat. It tried to scramble back under another bed, but Harry just banished the bed out of the way and continued raining spell fire down on the rat. Just as it seemed to realize it would be caught, it began to shift, evidently wondering whether or not it might have better luck as a wizard opposed to a rat.
What it failed to overlook was that after being a rat for almost twelve years, suddenly morphing back into human form was far from a seamless, fluid transition. As a matter of fact, it was extremely disorienting.
Almost as disorienting as the blackness that suddenly claimed Peter Pettigrew as a jet of red light struck him full in the face.
And almost as disorienting as the single fact that had just rocked Harry Potter's world.
Peter Pettigrew was alive!
He had to tell Dumbledore… now!
Some time later, in the Headmaster's office…
Harry had marched straight out of the common room hovering Pettigrew's body behind him. Everybody who looked on had been more than a little bit confused, but Harry had stopped for none of them. He didn't stop until he reached the Headmaster's office, nor did he answer his three second-year friends, all of whom trailed persistently behind him.
It turned out that Dumbledore wasn't alone in his office. There appeared to be a staff meeting taking place inside, which only meant that every single member of the staff nearly fainted from pure shock when Harry Potter barged through the door, floating the body of a man long believed to be dead behind him.
Hell, Flitwick actually did faint, and Sprout didn't look far off.
But not Dumbledore. The man was on his feet in an instant, and all of a sudden, the energy in the room changed as the old man's eyes no longer twinkled, but instead glowed. Intensity seemed to radiate off of him in waves and for the first time, Harry could truly appreciate why, if rumour was to be believed, this man had been the only one whom Lord Voldemort had ever feared.
"Everyone out!" It was not a request, but an order. All of the teachers, minus Snape and McGonagall, who's eye Dumbledore had caught, exited the room. Professor Vector floated Flitwick's body out with her.
"Severus," Dumbledore said curtly, "please fetch your strongest dose of Veritaserum and bring it to me immediately. We will be awaiting you here." Snape nodded swiftly and left.
"Albus," McGonagall asked nervously, "isn't that… very illegal? Administering Veritaserum without the permission of the DMLE?"
"I do plan on summoning them," Dumbledore assured her. "The problem is that I do not believe they would respond swiftly. Given the rather… outstanding circumstance, they would likely have a number of questions which I fear we may not have time to answer. That is why I kept you, Minerva. I entrust you with summoning Amelia Bones. Her specifically, mind you. By the time she has arrived, we will likely have interrogated this man already, but I would like her here as soon as possible."
"Of course, Albus." She left, leaving the four Gryffindor students alone with the Headmaster, who suddenly turned to Harry and asked for an explanation on what had happened. After it had been given, Dumbledore asked only one question, and it was not any of the vast number Harry might have expected.
"Can I trust you to be here for this, Harry?"
"Sir?"
"I think it is likely we are about to learn some rather… unpleasant truths, some of which may pertain directly to the death of your parents. You must not harm Peter Pettigrew, assuming that is indeed who this man truly is. The evidence cannot be tampered with. This is far too delicate a manner. Can I trust you to stay calm and composed throughout the process?"
Harry hoped so, though truthfully, he had no idea how he might react whilst Pettigrew began spewing the truth regarding the potential sins of the past. But he needed to be here for this. Using Occlumency, he clamped down hard on the river of hatred and fury that was crashing repeatedly against the banks of his psyche like an oncoming tide. "You can trust me, sir."
"Very good," Dumbledore answered, shooting a look towards Dean, Ron and Neville. "And your friends?"
Harry hesitated for only a moment, remembering Dumbledore's words about the importance of trust. He was going to trust far less easily when it came to new people from now on, but he knew these three. They had stuck with him through the shit storm that had been this year, and had kept the secrets he'd told them. He could trust them — he knew it.
"Yes, sir."
Dumbledore actually smiled, brief as it was. "Very well. When Severus returns, we shall administer the maximum permissible dose of Veritaserum. We shall need to slightly bend the law to see that its potential abuses in the past are amended, but I do not wish to do so too flagrantly. After the dose has been administered, we shall see what truly happened all those years ago and whether, impossible as it seemed to me at the time, you were right to be suspicious all along."
Ron rolled his eyes and spoke for the first time since they'd left the common room. It seemed as if his pet rat being a man had really taken a lot out of him. "When isn't he right? Honestly, I'm done doubting him at this point."
Dumbledore's lips twitched despite the palpable tension in the room. "A wise course of action, Mister Weasley. Very wise indeed."
June 20, 1993
Malfoy Manor
8:30 AM
PETER PETTIGREW FOUND ALIVE AT HOGWARTS!
ALLEGEDLY CONFESSES TO THE FRAMING OF SIRIUS BLACK!
By Rita Skeeter.
As soon as Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy spotted the ludicrously incendiary headline adorning the front page of that morning's edition of the Daily Prophet, Draco, who had arrived home the night before, was swiftly and sternly ordered from the room. Only after casting a frankly absurd number of privacy spells each did the couple turn to one another.
"This changes things," Lucius said needlessly. "Our plans will no longer be of use. Not if Black was truly framed."
Narcissa drummed her nimble fingers thoughtfully on the kitchen table. "Our exact plan wouldn't, but I think it can be modified."
"Narcissa, if Black was framed, our entire plan is moot! It hinged entirely on him willingly following the Dark Lord."
Narcissa smiled. "Just like before, you're so focused on the details that you're missing the obvious facts, husband."
"For instance?"
"Our plan hinges on my dear cousin following the Dark Lord."
"That is what I-"
"No. You said 'willingly following the Dark Lord'."
Dawning comprehension spread across Lucius's face. "You truly think it possible-"
"I have little doubt."
The two looked intently at one another. "I must admit, Cissy," Lucius purred, "you truly do play to win."
Her smile was as sharp as it was sweet. "Thank you, husband. I think that is the single kindest thing you have ever said to me."
June 21, 1993
A Tower Overlooking the Sea
9:47 AM
The bright sunlight streaming uncontestedly into his prison was just as bright as it was every single morning. Yet every single morning, it seemed to get brighter. Perhaps that was just because his eyesight was going. Perhaps it was because after so many years of seeing nothing but this damned place, he was simply becoming unaccustomed to seeing any light at all.
Or perhaps his time was simply coming, and he was seeing hints of the metaphorical light that would take him away from his pitiful existence.
He knew the latter to be partially true at the very least. He had foreseen it many years ago. Yet he knew that first, something had to happen. Something that would set into motion a number of events that would escalate and spiral beyond what their perpetrator would likely deem as possible.
As if the thought had willed the very catalyst into existence, the old, balding, emaciated man with weathered skin and scarce clumps of now white hair closed his eyes forcefully against a brilliant light that made even that of the sun seem insignificant and unimpressive.
When the light finally faded, the man looked up from his sorry excuse for a bed and laughed openly. He laughed for the first time in many years, and it was not a sane laugh. It was an ominous cackle that spoke not only of the euphoria of the present, but of the inevitable destruction that the future would bring.
For his part, the tall, thin figure standing in front of him didn't so much as move as his deep blue eyes rested unwaveringly upon the still cackling man before him. The ethereal bird on his shoulder didn't visibly react either, though it seemed tense, as if ready to flea at any moment. As he waited for his old friend and enemy to finish, the new arrival reached up and comfortingly stroked the feathers of his trusty familiar.
After a time, the emaciated man did stop his cackling. When he did so, he finally looked up towards the equally old, but far less weathered man with a spark of hunger and amusement in his still sharp eyes.
"Ah, Albus," he said in a raspy, neglected voice. "At long last, you are here. I knew you would come."
TO BE CONTINUED IN
YEAR 3:
THE DARK LORD'S EQUAL
COMING IN THE SECOND HALF OF 2021!
Author's Endnote:
And on that monster of a cliffhanger, year 2 is finally behind us.
It was a long, stressful year, mostly because of my own mistakes in choosing not to pre-write for this story. I assure you, I will not make that mistake again, hence the long wait before year 3 begins. Despite said errors, I am actually very happy with year 2 as a whole, (aside from some grammatical stuff in the earlier chapters) and I hope you all enjoyed it as much as I did writing it. I must say, this last chapter was the most fun I have had writing this fic in a very long time. I've had that scene planned for well over a year, so it feels so good to finally put it on paper.
I don't know exactly when year 3 will begin, but I tentatively have it scheduled for the second half of 2021. I need to revise this story (badly) before I post it, plus I need to get a lot of pre-writing done, in addition to focusing more on my other works and, most importantly, beginning work on an original novel.
Needless to say I have a lot on my plate, so the delay will be long. Worry not though. I am SO MUCH MORE excited for year 3 than I was for year 2, so it will come. Oh boy… year 3 will be fun.
Please read and review.
