Now that the experience with the dementors was well and truly behind them, Crowley decided to get on with the most frightening task of all, talking to Professor McGonagall about Harry's broomstick. He had quite forgotten about it, what with all the excitement of the recent times.
He decided to tackle her after breakfast, so she was fully awake but had not yet taught any lessons. Contact with students was sure to make her much less agreeable. He hung around awkwardly outside the dining hall until he spotted a familiar tight bun among the crush of students.
"Hi Professor McGonagall."
"Hello," she replied, giving him a calculating look, "what do you want?"
"Umm…nothing?"
"Yes, you do, I can tell by your face. Out with it, I haven't got all day."
Crowley had always considered himself an accomplished actor (and by that he meant liar), so her perceptiveness alarmed him. He plunged right in, erratically.
"Well, you see, you've got Harry's new broomstick."
"Yes, I do. I don't see what concern it is of yours."
Wow, she could be scary. Like Beelzebub scary.
"I understand there's a safety concern," Crowley went on, trying to sound as professional as possible, "I wondered if you would be willing to hand the broomstick over to me, so I could test it."
"And what makes you think you could do the job better than I could?" There was a dull flame in McGonagall's eyes. She reminded him of a cat, back arched, tail thick and bristled.
Crowley did his best to be tactful. He knew how stuck in the past the wizarding world was. McGonagall had almost certainly been subject to sexism and gender bias for most of her career. Clearly, she thought he was just another man, who thought he could do the job better than she could. He also had great respect for the Transfiguration mistress, prickly though she was.
"I don't," he said quickly, "but I figured you didn't need the extra work. You see, I share all my work with Professor Fell, and, as I'm sure you'll know, it is literally my job to control Harry's security."
Professor McGonagall seemed to calm down. She really did remind him of a cat. It was the same with Sirius. Sometimes it was hard to tell where the man ended, and the dog began.
"Ah yes," she nodded quickly, "I can see that. That's very, thoughtful, of you Professor Crowley."
She gave him a small smile and stalked off. A cat, with tail held high.
…
"And you mustn't scare him," Aziraphale told Sirius.
Sirius nodded, looking bored. Aziraphale had been briefing him on what he should and should not say to Harry for nearly an hour now, and he didn't have a good attention span at the best of times.
"And you mustn't mention Peter. Or-"
"Wait what?" Sirius' face moved closer to the mirror abruptly, causing Aziraphale to leap back in alarm. Although Sirius was looking better now, he had permanent lodging and food (supplied by Lupin to his cave outside Hogsmeade), he still looked slightly dangerous.
"How am I supposed to explain my innocence if I can't tell him about Peter?" Sirius continued.
"I don't know…," Aziraphale sighed exasperatedly, "look, we really don't want Harry to run off trying to get revenge on Peter. He can be very…reckless."
Sirius looked pensive. Then he smiled a little, "I heard about his fight with the basilisk last year. His father was just the same. You really have your work cut out trying to keep that boy safe."
"I know…" Aziraphale sighed, "but it's worth it."
After that, Sirius was much more obliging. They had something in common now; they both cared for Harry. He agreed to keep Peter out of the conversation as best he could, and Aziraphale sent Harry into Lupin's classroom to talk to him in the mirror with a light heart.
…
Harry came out of Lupin's classroom looking flushed and excited. Clearly meeting his godfather had gone to plan. Aziraphale just hoped he wasn't getting any ideas.
"How was it?" he asked tentatively.
Harry smiled.
"He told me about my parents. All about them. And he said I could come and live with him, when he clears his name."
Crowley beamed. For some reason, he'd become rather attached to Harry, and the thought of him having somewhere nice to go for the holidays made him feel pleased.
"But if Sirius didn't betray my parents, who did?" Harry asked.
Aziraphale fought back a sigh. This was just as he had expected. Harry had been hell bent on catching Sirius, and how he knew he was innocent, he immediately turned his mind toward finding the real culprit.
"We're doing our best to catch him," he said, then quickly glanced at Crowley, who understood the look and changed the subject.
"I spoke to Professor McGonagall," he told Harry, "and I've got your broomstick in the classroom. It's behind the desk so you can pick it up any time."
Harry looked as though it was Christmas day. "Thank you so much professor. I'll go get it now," he said, "I just need to see Ron and Hermione first."
He raced off, leaving them with the contented feeling of a job well done.
…
They met in the Three Broomsticks that night, to discuss Peter. Sirius was not impressed at not being able to talk, or more importantly, drink, but the others promised to save him some firewhisky and the opportunity to listen in in dog form. They all really wanted to go somewhere that wasn't the shrieking shack for once.
The pub was busy, and there was little chance of being overheard by anyone. A local band of ancient, bearded warlocks were playing death metal in one corner, and most of the pub was gathered around them, or huddled as far away from the noise as possible.
"What about Peter though?" Lupin asked. He sipped his butterbeer, frowning at Sirius, who, being in dog form, had been trying to communicate through the medium of trying to jump onto his lap.
Sirius settled down, confident that they had finally arrived at the correct subject.
"I think Harry knows something," Crowley burst out.
They all looked at him, confused. He had been pretty quiet all evening, until now.
"What do you mean?" Lupin asked, shoving Sirius' paws off the table. Sirius promptly hopped onto the empty chair beside Aziraphale, shooting him an angry look.
"I don't know, but he's taking being left out of the action a bit too well."
Lupin and Sirius nodded slowly, then Lupin turned to his friend.
"Will you act like a dog!" he hissed, "we're trying to have a serious conversation here!" he turned back to Aziraphale and Crowley, "yes, I agree. From what I know of Harry, and what I knew of James, he likes to be involved," he paused, "he likes to be the hero."
"Maybe it is worth asking for his help," Crowley said, "I mean, if we don't, chances are he will do something stupid alone."
"You're probably right," Aziraphale stared into space for a minute, "but I don't want to put him in danger," he added suddenly, "we have a job to do here."
"We'd probably be helping him, by stopping him doing something reckless alone," Lupin pointed out, "will you stop!" he added, to Sirius.
Sirius was now dragging him by his trouser leg, toward the door of the pub.
"I think he wants to tell you something," Aziraphale said.
"Alright," Lupin muttered, he stood up, "I need some fresh air," he announced, for the benefit of anyone listening in.
Crowley rolled his eyes at Aziraphale as he left.
"Wasn't he supposed to have subtly infiltrated Fenrir Greyback's gang during the war?"
Aziraphale chuckled, "yes but all he had to do there was say that he hated the ministry, and I don't think that was too hard for him. I've been talking to Sirius, and apparently he was quite the rebel when they were younger."
They both laughed at that, only stopping when Lupin re-entered the pub, Sirius trotting behind him, tail high.
"So, it turns out Sirius did have something important to say," Lupin said, sitting down, "he thinks Harry has the Marauder's map."
"What?"
"It's this map we made when we were younger, showing the whole of Hogwarts, and, more importantly, everyone in it," Lupin explained, "you could see them all moving around, exactly where everyone was."
"You called yourself 'the Marauders?'" Crowley was learning some very amusing things about Lupin tonight.
"We were sixteen," Lupin hissed, "anyway, Sirius told Harry this and he jumped, and apparently muttered our nicknames, which were on the map," he went on before Crowley could ask about the nicknames, "he thought Sirius didn't hear, but Sirius is quite sure that he did hear. If Harry has the map, he might have seen Peter Pettigrew on it."
"Where did he get it from?" Aziraphale asked.
"He must have stolen it from Filch," Lupin said, "I mean, that's the last place I saw it. we hid it there, you see, on the last day of term."
Sirius gave a little whine, which conveyed nostalgia in a dog-like way.
"anyway," Lupin went on, pointedly, "we hid it in Filches office, so that…" he turned pink.
Crowley swooped in before he could go on.
"Why did you hide it there?"
"So that only true mischief makers would find it," Lupin muttered, "we were young ok?"
Crowley howled with laughter, then with pain as Sirius bit him on the leg.
"If we could get the map back," Aziraphale started, leaning into the table conspiratorially, "we could find Pettigrew."
"So, one of us just has to get the map off Harry, find Peter on it, grab him, and hand him over to the ministry," Lupin grinned, "walk in the park."
…
Crowley and Aziraphale walked back to the castle together; Lupin and Sirius had gone back to the cave together before Lupin had to return to Hogwarts. They made it nearly to the gates in silence, before Aziraphale spoke.
"So, we know what we're going to do," he started, slightly tentatively.
"It's going to be fine angel," Crowley said, looking over at him. He could tell that Aziraphale was panicking, "we'll catch him, and Sirius' name will be cleared, and Harry will be safe."
"But will he?"
"What do you mean?"
"Sirius is clearly worried that Pettigrew will return to Voldemort, and help him return to power," Aziraphale explained, "surely, even if we catch Pettigrew, any of Voldemort's other followers could help him return. From everything I've read, it seems to me that he isn't gone for good. It's only a matter of time before he returns."
"That will have to be our next project then," Crowley said lightly, "we might have to employ the help of Dumbledore, but I'm sure we'll manage."
Aziraphale gave a small smile. But both of them had heavy hearts as they made their way the last few metres, up to the stone doors of the castle.
…
The snake was dying. Its body was too primitive, too weak to hold him any longer. They were dying more and more quickly now, leaving him bodiless and alone. Annoying as it was, Lord Voldemort took heart from this fact, as it meant he was getting stronger.
He felt himself leave the snakes body, a painful sensation, if he hadn't been beyond pain. The weakness washed over him like icy water. But he could swim now. It was time, he knew it. It was time to return.