With Harry and Sirius now looking more like themselves, other than the changed hair color which was apparently semi-permanent and a Muggle dye rather than a cosmetic charm Andromeda, or Andy as Sirius insisted on calling her, was ready to begin. Despite Sirius' insistence that he was fine and that Harry was more important she began with him. After all, Harry has spent the last two years under the watchful eye of Poppy Pomphrey, a woman she held in high regard. He couldn't be too bad off.

Sirius, as she expected, was suffering from Malnutrition, years of Dementor Exposure, Scurvy, Lyme Disease, and other assorted issues that his internal magic was struggling to fight off. Her diagnostics were keyed to a dicta-quill and parchment that recorded her analysis as she worked. Due to his long incarceration and subsequent living off the land as he made his way across the country it would potentially take months to bring him back to his former state of health. And there would always be complications. It was unlikely he would live to see one hundred, much like his father.

Young Harry on the other hand, well her diagnostic results were not at all what she expected. He too showed years of malnutrition, scurvy, rickets, many previously broken bones, his eyes didn't match his lenses' prescription at all, and his blood was apparently full of Basilisk venom and Phoenix tears. He also had minute traces of many toxic potion compounds in his system as though he had been splattered with dozens of reacting potions and then not been treated for exposure.

Many of the Micro-fractures in his bones had been healed by a large dose of Skele Gro a few months previous, but his overall bone density was poor and he likely needed to be on a potions regimen nearly as exhaustive as Sirius'. Sirius' health issues were expected due to his long stay at Chez Azkaban, but what the hell had happened to James and Lily's son after their deaths to leave him like this?

"Mr Potter, I simply do not understand how Poppy has left all of this," she gestured toward the still scribing parchment. "untreated. How have you passed your physicals each year without her noticing?"

"Physicals?" asked Harry tilting his head slightly. "I've never had a physical. I've woken up in the hospital wing once or twice, and last year I had to have the bones in my arm regrown after Lockheart vanished them by accident, but I've never had a physical. I didn't know the Magical world did those."

Andromeda sighed at his response. It just wasn't possible that Poppy had missed the signs, unless she had been circumvented. "Well fortunately, it's all still repairable, but it will mean taking some rather foul tasting potions regularly for the next few weeks."

While not practiced at healing humans, the Goblin healers recognized most of the information being scribed by her spell, and had already begun compiling a list of nutrient, cleansing, and restorative potions that would deal with much of the damage. There were few ailments and injuries that weren't treated the same regardless of species after all. Wizards just never sought Goblin medical care, and Goblins were usually denied care by Wizards. Harry noticed the goblins conferring in quiet tones and poring over the two scrolls before sending smaller, presumably younger goblins off with lists that had been written up.

When Harry began explaining how his relatives had treated him before receiving his Hogwarts letter Andromeda began to understand how his medical history could be as bad as it was. Unlike Molly, and perhaps Dumbledore, she didn't dismiss his tales as exaggerations. The evidence before her spoke of serious neglect and abuse. The stories of rampant sabotage and frequent potions accidents were much worse than the complaints her daughter had made while she was going through Hogwarts, but then she had been a Hufflepuff and attended classes with the Ravenclaws. At this rate, all of Hogwarts would need to be tested for toxic exposure to potions compounds.

There was a reason that Dragon Hide gloves were on the list. Even first year potions could be dangerous if not prepared properly using the correct safety procedures, which Harry had apparently never been taught. He hadn't even been taught the Bubble Head Charm, something taught in Potions to first years by Slughorn in her day.


Peter Pettigrew was a nervous sort. Small and bullied in primary school, with an absent father and a mother with health issues, he lacked confidence in himself and his abilities. He also lacked a sense of camaraderie and trust. He had never had friends or close relations he could rely on. Just him and his mother, and he spent far too much time caring for her, rather than the other way around.

Upon starting Hogwarts he was sorted into the house of the Brave, not because he was brave, but because he had the potential to become so. He had the still flexible mind of a child and could have done well in Gryffindor or Slytherin. His ambitions were simple then, but to a child with his disadvantages, they were truly ambitious. He would have made an excellent politician had he sorted into Slytherin. But he wanted friendship, to become strong, and brave like his deceased father. And so he went another way.

Finding himself sorted with three other boys, one visibly poor and sickly, one obviously wealthy and bombastic and one who seemed carefree and somewhat cruel as eleven year olds so often are, he quickly found himself caught up in the weight of their personalities. He became a Marauder, a bully, a spy, a cunning snake in lion's skin. He needed their approval, their friendship, their love. He would do anything to keep it. But like most things in school it didn't last. James wooed Lilly, Sirius became ever more hateful toward the dark that Peter found so fascinating. And Remus became more and more fixated on his Furry little Problem and was forgetting to live.

He joined the Order of the Phoenix to be with his friends, but the war was driving them apart. Families were being split, people were dying left and right, and no one seemed to know how to bring it to an end. The "Light" refused to engage their enemies with lethal force, the Ministry was letting those captured escape without even so much as a day going by. It wasn't until far too late that the Aurors under Crouch Sr. began acting as though they were in a war rather than arresting criminals. Albus, despite his supposed war experience never did treat it as such. When only one side of a conflict is using deadly force the outcome is assured.

There was really only one choice he could make. He was a Half-Blood, but his mother came from a long line of Purebloods, when he was approached to spy on the order he had no option but to die or live in the new world the Death Eaters were carving out of the old. The order couldn't, wouldn't, take the necessary actions to win. He may have loved James, and Sirius, looked up to them, wanted to be them, or at least be with them, but they had moved on, Lilly, Marlene, Even Remus spent more time with the Packs than with his friends. His mother was dying, he had nothing left. And Lucius was... very persuasive.

It was the worst mistake he had ever made. He had been forced to flee what should have been a decisive victory. His panicked attempts to evade his old friend eventually resulted in a poorly thought out attempt to fake his own death. It worked, but now he was effectively trapped in the body of a rat and too afraid to even try living as a man outside the country. His home at least was somewhat comfortable, though Percy was a much better owner than Ron was turning out to be.

Bill Weasley was shocked at what the Goblin had told him and quickly agreed to the plan. He quietly entered his visiting family's tent and quickly ensured everyone would remain sleeping. Had he not been his father's son such a spell would have had different results, but the Protections here were his, and much like those at the Burrow would only respond against him if he had ill intent.

Bill left the tent a moment later with a stunned and bound rat in a cage.


Hermione had been working herself into a tizzy worrying about Harry's last letter. and was actually quite relieved to find Hedwig perched on the back of a chair when she returned home.

"Another letter from Harry?" she said aloud. Hedwig bobbed her head and thrust out one leg. After Hermione retrieved the letter Hedwig turned away from the window and settled in, closing her eyes.

Dear Hermione,

I thought I would send you an update. I know I'll be seeing you in less than a week, but I didn't want you to worry over my health. I finally saw a Healer today. Apparently the Dursley's missed a few necessary doctor's visits for myself growing up, and I never went to St. Mungos to get any wizarding vaccinations. There were other issues as well that should have been caught had Madam Pomphry done a physical on me during first year.

Did you ever get a physical at Hogwarts? If not, maybe ask your Veela friend about local healers?

Based on my conversation with the Healer, you, and the rest of the class should make an appointment with a wizarding Healer for a full physical before returning to school. I had lots of toxic potion ingredient exposure that should have been treated. Snape really is the worst. Every time anyone had a significant accident in potions, the whole class should have been checked for exposure and treated, also there are apparently a lot of safety issues we aren't being taught. Including a spell that prevents you from inhaling the fumes from a potion being brewed.

Did you know that in order to become a Healer, you have to pass your Newts with high marks in Potions, Defense against the Dark Arts, and Charms? There apparently have only been a handful of new healers in the last decade or so since Snape began teaching. Almost all of the current healers trained under a retired teacher named Slughorn. I have to take three potions a day for the next week, then two, then just the nutrient potion for one more week. It's the only one that doesn't taste like socks. It's kind of bready with a hint of overripe fruit.

How are you enjoying France? Spending any time at the Beaches? I know you said you were renting a place by the beach, but I've never vacationed before, heck I've never been to see the Ocean myself, but I've heard that the beaches here are much colder even in the summer. I've also heard that the French Magical school is in the South of France. Apparently it's much warmer there than northern Scotland. The school, Beauxbatons, which is supposed to be in the Pyrenees Mountains, the Flamells, went there apparently.

Anyway, I'm not fine obviously, but I will be in a few weeks. I should be finishing up the first potion around the time you and your parents get back. I'll send Hedwig out again with a letter next week even if I haven't heard back from you. We can get together either at Diagon, or if you like I could take the Knight bus to your house. I would just need the Address. I'll be seeing you soon.

Love,

Harry

His reassurances were actually effective. He had seen a healer, he was being treated, and his prognosis was good. He was also honest enough to say he wasn't fine. That was progress she supposed. Having all the bones vanished from your arm is not fine. But his questions about physicals were worrying. She actually never visited St. Mungos. Nor was she aware that there were wizarding immunizations. That was information the Muggleborn should have been told. If you have a sizable portion of your population not getting vaccinated against virulent disease, the disease tends to mutate and spread even faster. Eventually it will sometimes even be able to affect those who got inoculated.

She would approach Fleur about this the next time they meet. She and her sister had invited her to go shopping tomorrow, so it might be a good time to visit the local healer as well.


Harry was reading through old Black family genealogies and family trees dating to the time of the black plague outbreak in England, 1348-1349. BJ had bragged that he survived the Black Plague, and while he might not have been honest, he was curious if there was a Betelgeuse, or more likely Beldengeuze, Black listed in the family tree during that time period, and whether there was any relation. He may be over six hundred years dead, but unlike most ghosts Harry had met, he seemed to have kept up with the times. His family tree provided by Gringotts didn't go back that far sadly.

Sirius was sleeping. The Potions Andy had him on were helping but he needed quite a lot more rest than Harry did. Number twelve continued to improve, and now Harry was sure that Dobby was helping Kreature, as several of the changes were things that Kreature wouldn't have done Harry was sure of. The home was once again under a secrecy spell. Andromeda was able to cast the spell, with "Sirius Black's Residence can be found at Number 12 Grimmauld Place" being the secret hidden in Harry's Soul. Should Sirius move to a new house, or call another his home the spell would fail, since the secret was about Sirius, Harry could live under the secret as well.

Flitwick was able to be his own secret keeper for his home during Harry's previous life, so there must be a trick to the issue of trust, secrets, and how they are worded. If Harry's name had been in the secret, directly or indirectly, it would have been his secret and thus he wouldn't have been able to 'hold' it. It was good that you had to be the owner of the secret to entrust it to another or you could just hide any property you like.

Harry's mind was only half on what he was reading as he had received a note from Gringotts this morning that Pettigrew had been caught and publicly questioned in Egypt. As a Death Eater, he was Persona non grata in Egypt. The Egyptian Ministry was publishing a summary of the highlights of his questioning. The betrayal, faking his own death, framing Sirius Black, along with a demand that he be taken off the hands of their representatives as he was being Deported back to England. The announcement was being sent to all ICW countries and forwarded to all major news outlets.

The question was how would Fudge try to spin it, and would the Prophet try to bury it or do an about face on Sirius. They had been running a series of negative articles on him for the last month. Suddenly changing the narrative at this point would make them look foolish if it wasn't done right. That was why Ted Tonks was making visits to both the Editor of the Prophet and the Ministry today.


Ted had been having an eventful morning. Cuffe, the editor of the Daily Prophet, was easy to wrangle. The certified interrogation transcript, the selection of wizarding pictures, showing Peter with no sleeve to hide his mark, the closeup of the hand with the missing finger, all of it looked good. Combining it with the tidbit that Black never actually received a trial, was just remanded to Azkaban on Barty Crouch's orders was enough to ensure that Sirius guilt would at least be questioned in today's paper.

Fudge was more difficult. Not because he was inherently against the message, no, just getting to speak with the man was difficult. He had the disadvantage of being a Muggleborn and so of course Dolores Umbridge had gone out of her way to ensure the meeting was practically impossible to have. Fortunately Ted was part of an 'Old Firm' founded by some of the older Wizarding families. It had taken a few years of private practice as a Solicitor to get where he was, but having the resources of a working firm did make things easier. Having one of the Partners of the firm flooing the minister of magic directly to inform him one of his Barristers was being given the runaround in the outer offices was just perfect.

Despite her attempts to block the meeting from happening at all, Dolores also had the temerity to invite herself to the meeting as well. Her outraged reaction and the interesting colores she turned were like a balm on his nerves.

"The Egyptian Ministry has captured a hitherto unknown marked Death Eater. He was dosed with Veritaserum and asked about his blood status. He was a Half Blood and so their interrogation proceeded accordingly. He was a British Citizen and so they are deporting him back to us later today. I was informed by Gringotts as his arrest involved some of their employees and his status affects one of my firm's Clients." Ted could practically see Fudge's eyes glazing at the idea of a meeting over a halfblood.

"Hem Hem," Dolores interrupted. "Why should this matter be brought up to the Minister, surely this should be handled by the DMLE?"

"Because if Minister Fudge doesn't make a statement about this Death Eater, and his crimes, and the mistakes made by Bagnold and Crouch as a result of his crimes, he won't be minister in a month as he will have failed a vote of no confidence." replied Ted calmly.

"What!" shouted Fudge leaping to his feet, he and Dolores both cycled through shades of crimson and pale.

"Why is this half blood such an issue, send him to Azkaban, he can't have any relevance to this ministry if Millicent was minister when he escaped justice." Dolores' voice cracked as she tried to maintain her composure.

"He's important because he is Peter Petegrew, and he was the Potter's Secret Keeper, and framed Sirius Black by faking his own death." replied Ted, placing the photos and ICW certified confession on Fudge's desk. "If he isn't given a very public trial and convicted given this evidence, heads will roll. The old families aren't happy that one of their own spent twelve years in Azkaban without even the courtesy of a trial."

"Of course Black had a trial, he is a convicted Death Eater and was Lord Thingy's right hand man!" Blustered Fudge.

"Not according to the Ministry archives," replied Ted. "He was arrested, his wand snapped, and sent to Azkaban for holding pending a trial that never happened. Barty Crouch and Milicent Bagnold signed the orders themselves. There is no record of a trial anywhere in the Ministry… Or in the back issues of the Prophet."

Dolores looked to be building up a head of steam so Ted cut her off. "Peter's capture and confession are international news. A redacted version of this confession has been sent to every news outlet in the wizarding world. Every ICW country is going to be getting a packet similar to this one later today. I am here to help keep you on top of this so you aren't out on your ear. All you have to do is blame the previous administration's mistakes, and focus on seeing justice done. Rescind the Kiss on Sight order for Black once Pettigrew is in ministry custody and return the Dementors to Azkaban. After Pettigrew's trial it will be obvious that Black isn't guilty of any of the things he would have been charged with had he been brought to trial. If you're lucky, he won't decide to sue the ministry itself for false imprisonment and simply go after Crouch and Bagnold." Ted smiled fiercely. "If you try to block this, you won't be lucky. My firm is drawing up two sets of documents based on how you handle things now."

Ted stood and gave a brief bow. "Good day Minister, Undersecretary. Hopefully I have been helpful in preventing a blow to your administration." He turned to leave and paused at the door. "Oh, just an idle thought, Lucius Malfoy's son Draco will never inherit any of the Black estate whether Lord Black dies a free man or not."

As Ted left the office, the Notice-Me-Not spell on the Special Edition Daily Prophet he had left on Fudge's desk broke.

Peter Pettegrew Alive! Deatheater and Betrayer of the Potters Confesses All!

The animated photos show Peter being forced to show his arm by a pair of Egyptian Aurors and then chained in an interrogation chair below the headline. Fudge seemed to deflate. It was too late to keep things quiet. At least the following article didn't mention his administration other than to call for the revocation of the Kiss on Site order.

Dolores however seemed to be in a daze. None of her usual tactics would work at this point; it had spun beyond control. Their only real option was following the plan presented by that mudblood. Sometimes she wished she could just sic dementors on all of her political opponents. It was so much easier than trying to shift blame.


Lydia was having more fun than she ought to, all things considered. High School was not her favorite place to be at the best of times, and now she was having to sit through the same old lectures again. Fortunately her excellent memory allowed her to prepare many of the more arduous assignments ahead of time. The reading was easy, other than being bored in class, the whole experience was much more relaxing this time round.

Knowing exactly what she would look like in a few years helped as well. Nothing like the confidence boost of knowing you really will look like a girl eventually. She had no issue with girls with slender frames, but had been ridiculed for being a slow bloomer in middle school. Simply knowing the form she would take as a young woman helped soothe those old anxieties. Her newfound confidence was noticed by Claire Brewster who tried, unsuccessfully, to puncture what she perceived as an inflated ego.

Bertha and Prudence had also benefited from her new perspective. She really had neglected her living friends more than she should the first time round. Her sketchbook soon had pictures of her friends as they would appear in five or six years' time. Her clothing designs and ideas for her boo-tique were also expanded. Their first venture may have ended in failure. But she had five years of designs floating around her head. What's hot, What's not, and of course, the fact that Goth chic sells much better online than it ever would in Peaceful Pines.

Tonight will be interesting. Not part of Destiny Repair per se, after discussing the Ghosts of Hogwarts with Juno, Lydia was forewarned and forearmed as she projected to the side of Myrtle Warren.

The girls toilet was not quite how Lydia had pictured it. Myrtle was clearly in evidence though as she was sobbing in the Toilet. Odd since the Castle was empty. Why would she be crying?

"Myrtle?" called Lydia. There was a quiet gasp.

"Who are you!" demanded Myrtle as she phased through her stall and saw Lydia floating there.

"You can call me Lydia," was the confident reply from the smiling specter.

"What do you want?" barked Myrtle. "Can't you see I'm distraught!"

"That's why I'm here actually" replied Lydia. "I was told you are somehow bound to this bathroom, but previously were able to leave the castle and were haunting Olive Hornby?"

Myrtle giggled at that. "Oh yes, I went to her brother's wedding and caused such a scene letting everyone know it was her fault. I was in the bathroom when I died because of her, she went to the ministry and they did something. Now I can't leave Hogwarts Grounds."

"Geographic and temporal parameters: Functional parameters vary from manifestation to manifestation" muttered Lydia quietly.

"What was that?" asked Myrtle.

"Have you ever received a copy of the Handbook for the Recently Deceased?" asked Lydia.

Myrtle blinked at that non-sequitur and shook her head "No, I've never heard of it."

Lydia was unsurprised. Juno had suspicions about the Ghosts of Hogwarts. Not one of them had ever petitioned for assistance. Nor had any of them moved on in the more than thousand year history of the site. As the books cannot be destroyed, it was suspected that they were hidden by the magic users in a place the Ghosts could not go. Something for Harry to look into once he returns to the Castle.

"Well, in that case, I am here to teach you at least one way to leave the castle safely." Lydia smiled at Myrtle with a conspiratorial grin. "Have you ever played with Chalk as a ghost?"

Myrtle's confused "No?" was somewhat surprising considering the nature of the castle as a school, especially as she was known for manipulating her environment rather than simply floating through things.

"Could you show me to the nearest room with some chalk?" requested Lydia. "I have something to show you, something that only ghosts can do."

Under Lydia's careful instruction, Myrtle soon drew a door on the wall of an abandoned classroom. The circular 'door knob' was decorated with a triangle split by a vertical line. "Excellent work Myrtle" congratulated Lydia. "Now focus on being solid and knock on the door like this." She proceeded to knock on the closest desk in the old Shave and a Haircut pattern.

Myrtle gave her a flat somewhat disbelieving look but did so and was amazed when the door she had scrawled on the stone wall began to open.