I own nothing but the plot.
"Today, we will be brewing the Shrinking Solution," Professor Snape said in a monotone. "This is not a simple potion, so make sure you follow the instructions to the letter." He scowled at everyone and appeared to be in a terrible mood.
Harry and Hermione worked together while Neville paired up with Ron. They were nearly halfway through the class when they heard a bubbling hiss coming from the table behind them. Glancing back, they saw Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas backing away from their cauldron, which was acid green and spurting globs of potion all over their table.
"Protego!" Professor Snape shouted, and a bubble appeared around the cauldron just as it erupted, and green, boiling liquid flew out. Professor Snape's shield contained the mess, and students peeked out from under their desks where they had taken cover.
"I don't understand," Seamus cried, eying the twisted lump of pewter that had melted on his desk.
"You added the snake fang before the spider eggs, idiot boy!" Professor Snape snarled. "I have tried to teach you to follow instructions, but I might as well be teaching the walls!"
"Why does it matter if I add the snake fang first or the crushed spider eggs?" Seamus whined. "They're both going in the pot one after the other, so there's no reason one has to go in first."
"Because," snarled Professor Snape, "this isn't a cooking class!" He waved his wand, and the remains of the cauldron vanished. "Every ingredient reacts with every other ingredient. Add another ingredient, and you change the very nature of the mixture. What do spider eggs do to a potion?"
"I don't know!" wailed Seamus. "It doesn't make any sense. They should just make it gross and probably poisonous."
"Stop thinking like a Muggle," hissed Professor Snape. "This is Magic. You cannot draw a straight line and get from here to there. This is not cooking. This is not chemistry. This is poetry. This is symbolism. Stop thinking about what the ingredient is, and start thinking about what it means. What is a spider? How does it behave? What does it eat? What eats it? How would a living spider react to the other ingredients in your cauldron? That is the essence you are adding to your potion."
"Well, spiders eat insects…," Seamus said slowly.
"And what insects did you add to your cauldron?" Snape asked.
"Lacewings," answered Seamus.
"What did they do?" Snape asked.
"Floated?" Seamus answered. He flushed under the glare the potions professor shot at the boy, consulted his instruction sheet, and tried again. "It says here that lacewing flies bind two ingredients together."
"Which ingredients?" pressed Snape.
"Um…," Seamus said, looking through his textbook, "We added them between the porcupine quills and the armadillo bile."
"And what do they do?" Snape asked again.
"I don't know," Seamus admitted.
"All mammal quills add heat," Snape said, "since all mammals are warm-blooded. Porcupine quills, being barbed, retain this heat better than any other quill. All bile also adds heat as the bile is in the hottest part of the body. Bile does not add as much heat as quills, however. Adding them together with Lacewing flies will bind them together, allowing the quills to add more heat than they could on their own, but not as much as adding additional quills."
"But why bind them together," Dean asked, "if we're just adding the heat? Why not just add them together?"
"Because," Snape said, "We only want to add the additional heat for a precise amount of time. Letting it simmer too long will cause the other ingredients to overcook. Adding the spider eggs unbinds the porcupine quills and the armadillo bile. This neutralizes them, reducing the heat and allowing the potion to cool. What did you add instead of spider eggs?"
"Snake fangs," Seamus said.
"Snake fangs," Snape confirmed. "Snakes, of course, are cold-blooded but are also duplicitous by nature. They often do the opposite of what you desire. Instead of cooling your potion down, it exploded."
"If we want to cool it down," asked Seamus, "why don't we just add some cold water, then?"
"Because this is a potion," Snape sneered, "not soup!"
In Charms, Professor Flitwick had the class working on applying and reversing the Full Body Bind curse. Harry and Neville were having fun at first petrifying each other but then noticed that Hermione was shaking in fear.
"Are you alright?" Harry asked her, cancelling the body bind he had just put on Neville.
"I'm fine," she said in a shaky voice. "I can do this."
"What's wrong, though?" Harry persisted. "It doesn't hurt."
"Isn't it obvious?" Draco Malfoy answered for Hermione. The newfound truce between the boys hadn't prevented a sneer from colouring his question. "Of course, I forgot. You weren't petrified by a half snake woman not that long ago. But we were, thank you, and this feels entirely too much like that did."
"Hermione," Harry said, giving her a hug, "I'm sorry. I didn't think about that."
"Well," it's not exactly like that," Hermione said, "as the Gorgon was far worse, but it is similar enough that it is unpleasant. I'll be fine. I want to do this."
"Thank you, Draco," Harry said, holding his hand out to shake. Malfoy looked at it like it was a fish, but manners would not let him ignore it. He shook hands with Harry briefly, then stalked across the classroom to stand beside Pansy once again.
After Charms class was lunch, Harry asked Hermione and Neville to go on ahead without him. He stayed behind to speak with Professor Flitwick.
"What can I help you with, Mr Potter?" Professor Flitwick asked.
"I just wanted to thank you, sir," Harry answered.
"Oh? What for?"
"Do you remember when you taught me to repair that glass in my first year?"
"Ah, yes," Flitwick said. "Did that help you recently?"
"Not directly," Harry said. "You were also curious about how I was able to change trajectories during a fall."
"I see," Flitwick smiled. "When I heard rumours about a flying boy in London rescuing a young girl, I admit that I wondered if it was you, Mr Potter."
"You heard about that?" Harry asked, surprised.
"I keep my ear to the ground, so to speak," Professor Flitwick said. "Of course, with my ears being so close to the ground anyway, it's pretty easy for me to do." The diminutive professor chuckled at his joke. "It is not usual for someone in the Wizarding world to keep track of the happenings in the Muggle world, of course, but I find it helpful to always know the major events. While the excitement surrounding the event has died down without a repeat performance, it was quite a memorable story."
"Well," Harry said, "I doubt I would have gotten to that point if you hadn't pushed me in the direction, so thanks."
"You are quite welcome, Mr Potter," Professor Flitwick said. "Your mother would be proud of you."
Professor Lupin's first class was a review where they went over everything they had learned in the first two years. Quirrel had not taught much in the short time he had been their professor, but Lockhart had done an excellent job teaching the X and XX creatures that the students might encounter. He had also gone over Boggarts, which were not classified as creatures, but as non-beings, and several XXX creatures.
"This year," he told his third-year Gryffindor/Slytherin class, "we will continue studying XXX creatures, with a few XXXX thrown in for fun. For those taking Care of Magical Creatures, you'll find some of these lessons overlap, but it will be good to get multiple perspectives."
After class, Headmaster Dumbledore entered the defence classroom.
"Professor Lupin," he greeted the younger man. "How was your first class?"
"It went very well," Lupin answered. "I've done tutoring before, but this is the first time I've taught in a classroom setting. It took a little bit to get used to it."
"I remember the first class I ever taught here," Dumbledore reminisced. "I was so nervous that when I attempted to demonstrate the matchstick to needle transfiguration, I accidentally turned it into a pencil instead.
Remus laughed along with the Headmaster. "So," he said, "what can I do for you, Headmaster?"
"We are colleagues now," Dumbledore said, "please feel free to call me Albus."
"That might take some getting used to," Remus said.
"I know you are free from classes in the morning tomorrow," Dumbledore said, "and would like you to accompany me to the Ministry of Magic for the trial of Mr Pettigrew."
"Already?" Remus asked. "How can they be going to trial so soon?"
"I'm not sure," Dumbledore said. "Either they're going to try and railroad him into prison with the barest hint of a trial to save face so soon after the Sirius Black debacle, or they're going to dismiss everything for the same reason."
"I still find it hard to believe," Remus said, a frown appearing. "So many things went wrong."
"Yes," Dumbledore said, a sad look shadowing his face. "They most definitely did."
Headmaster Dumbledore and Professor Lupin appeared with a pop behind an overflowing dumpster on Whitehall Street in London. They were met by Sirius Black and Toma Kendet, who were waiting for them.
"Ah, Sirius," Dumbledore said, greeting the former convict. "And Master Kendet, it is good to see you again. Has Sirius brought you up to date on the situation?"
"He has," Toma answered, following as Headmaster Dumbledore led the group into an old red telephone box that stood against a heavily graffitied wall. Dumbledore picked up the receiver and dialled 62442.
"Welcome to the Ministry of Magic," A pleasant female voice filled the cramped compartment. "Please state your name and business."
"Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin and Master Toma Kendet, here to attend the trial of Peter Pettigrew," Dumbledore answered.
"Thank you," the voice said. "Visitors, please take a badge and attach it to the front of your robes."
Four badges clicked and rattled as they filled the coin return of the old telephone, and Dumbledore handed out the badges. Dumbledore, who had been the Supreme Mugwump the last time he visited the ministry, was delighted to have also received a badge. He affixed the silver medal to his robes. A.P.W.B.D. Etc Etc, Witness. Sirius, who looked as if he hadn't slept much since finding out the truth of Peter's plight, still managed a smile at his badge. Sirius Black, probably at fault. Remus was also amused at the caption on his. Remus Lupin, accomplice. Toma, bemused at the inscription on his medal, received M. Toma Kendet, Observer/Meddler.
"Who selects what the medal says?" Toma asked.
"Please don't pay it any mind," Dumbledore said as the elevator's interior began to sink below the street. "It's a charm that tries to guess at your purpose. There is a bit of a competition amongst the Ministry employees to see who can generate the most outlandish descriptions."
"I've been called worse things," Toma said, sticking the badge to his robe.
"Trial of Peter Pettigrew," said Cornelius Fudge in a ringing voice, "into offences committed under the International Statute of Secrecy and the Charter of Separation of 1692. Read the charges, please."
"Three counts of Obstruction of Justice," the court clerk called out, "one felony count of violating the International Statute of Secrecy through his public duel with Sirius Black, one felony count of battery against a Wizard through his injury of Sirius Black, fifty-three counts of misdemeanour battery of Muggles without intent to injure, twelve misdemeanour counts of Manslaughter of Muggles without intent, one felony account of Attempted Murder in the First Degree against Sirius Black, one misdemeanour count of Failure to Register an Animagus Form, and one misdemeanour count of impersonation of a household pet without a licence."
"As I recall," Fudge said, "additional charges were being considered. Madam Bones, do you have any you wish to add?"
"No, Minister," Amelia said. "Based on our investigation, we've dropped the charges of Conspiracy against the Ministry of Magic, Association with the terrorist association known as the Death Eaters, also known as the Knights of Walpurgis, and two counts of Homicide in the First Degree."
"Very well," Fudge said. He faced Peter. "Is your defence prepared?"
"My defence?" Peter asked. He hadn't spoken with anyone.
"Witnesses for the Defence," a voice called out from behind Peter. He turned his head to find his old friends standing beside him. "Sirius Orion Black and Remus James Lupin."
"Additional witness for the Defence," another voice said, "Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore."
"Very well," Fudge said again. He sat down with the fifty other members of the Wizengamot and folded his hands over his belly. "You may begin your arguments."
"Guilty of twelve counts of accidental death," Dumbledore said. The trial had been swift, and now they were in recess, waiting for the Wizengamot to decide what punishment would be handed down. Amelia Bones had her monocle in, reading through sheets of parchment at her desk. Dumbledore, Sirius Black and Remus Lupin were seated on the other side. Toma had returned to the Granger's residence.
"It fits the crime," Amelia said. "Whether Pettigrew intended to kill those Muggles or not, they died by his hand. He admits that, even under Verituserum."
"He spent twelve years living as a rat," Dumbledore protested. "That should be punishment enough."
"You've been making many changes lately," Amelia said, "and those have been for the better. Now it seems like you're backsliding back into forgiving everyone of everything so long as they only say sorry."
"Forgive me," Dumbledore said, "but I have a moral objection to subjecting someone who genuinely regrets an accident to the tortures of the dementors. Let that punishment be for others who committed their crimes, knowing their actions were evil."
"I doubt the Wizengamot will sentence him to Azkaban anyway," Sirius said. "All of the victims were Muggles."
"They were still people!" Amelia exploded.
"I know that, Amy," Sirius soothed, "believe me, I do. But I am not on the Wizengamot, am I?"
"No," Amelia sighed, "you're not. The victim's families have made peace with the official story, and the Wizengamot will not want to draw attention by changing it now. Besides, all of the witnesses have long since been obliviated. The families wouldn't even know they were getting justice."
"So it's either Azkaban or no punishment at all?" Remus asked.
"There should be some punishment," Amelia insisted. "You can't just kill twelve people, however unintentionally, and just get away with it."
"Perhaps," Dumbledore said thoughtfully, "since the victims were all Muggles, a Muggle punishment would be appropriate."
"What do you mean?" Amelia asked.
"I wonder if you have ever heard of community service?" Dumbledore asked.
"Let me talk to the Minister, see what he thinks," Amelia said.
Peter slowly walked through the empty park early on a Saturday morning. He held a stick with a nail in the end of it and was using it to snag candy wrappers and old newspapers. He had a bag over his shoulder that was half filled with litter. An Auror was nearby, monitoring him, but he kept a fair distance from Peter. The park had been temporarily closed to the Muggle families that would typically take advantage of the mild weather to get their children some fresh air.
Peter knew he had gotten lucky. He had been sentenced to two hundred hours of community service for his role in the deaths of twelve muggles. The Wizengamot, unwilling to interfere directly with the Muggle law enforcement, had taken Dumbledore's suggestion and ordered him to clean this park. He wasn't allowed to use magic, making removing the graffiti difficult, but he wasn't about to complain. It could have been Azkaban.
"Peter," Sirius said. Peter turned around to find Sirius and Remus behind him. He was afraid they would attack him, but he saw their wands were not out. They both had poles and bags and began to spear trash.
"What are you doing?" Peter asked. He grimaced as he realized that was the first thing he had said directly to either of his old friends since he and Sirius had fought on that horrible night so long ago. Sirius and Remus had spoken on his behalf at his trial but never said anything directly to him.
"You weren't the only one to blame for those Muggles," Sirius said, stuffing a soda can in his bag. "If I had tried to talk to you instead of just assuming you were guilty, none of that would have happened."
"Did they sentence you, too?" Peter asked.
"Oh no," Remus said. "We were just talking and decided it wouldn't be fair for you to take all the blame and punishment alone. We all played a part in what happened that night. Even me. We should have talked to each other more. Stuck together more. Now James is gone, but we're still the Marauders. We've forgotten what that means and need to get it back."
"So," Sirius said, "we thought we would join you in this and maybe clear the air a bit."
"I've missed you," Peter said. "I'm sorry, Sirius."
"I went to Azkaban, Peter," Sirius said shakily. "I'm trying my best not to be mad about it, but I'd like an explanation as to why you never came forward to clear my name. I know you said you were scared, but I know how Verituserum works. That was the first thing on your mind, but I know you. You've overcome fear before."
Peter waited a few moments before answering, snagging another soggy newspaper. "I was afraid," he finally said. "I was afraid you were the spy."
"Me?" Sirius said, shocked.
"You insisted that I be the Secret Keeper," Peter explained. "I didn't want to do it because I didn't think I'd be able to hold out against Death Eaters. After the dust had settled, I did try to come forward, but every time I did, I replayed the events in my head. Why me? Why had you insisted the weakest of us be the key to the secret?"
"I didn't think of it that way," Sirius insisted. "I didn't think of you as weak."
"I did," Peter said, using his pole to hook another soda can. "I was afraid of going to Azkaban. I was telling the truth about that. But I was also scared you'd go after Harry if I got you out. I was scared that you were the one who'd turned. That you'd figured out that me writing the secret down would allow the secret to get out, even if I didn't want it to. I thought the whole plan was a way to keep suspicion off of you. To frame me."
Sirius sat on a park bench, his trash pole clattering beside him. He put his face in his hands and sobbed. "I'm so sorry," he cried.
"I'm sorry, too," Peter said, tears streaking down his face as well. "I'm sorry you went to Azkaban. I'm sorry I never came forward. I'm sorry never came to you, Remus. I should have."
"Since we're being honest with each other," Remus said, putting his hands on the other men's shoulders, "I don't know how well it would have worked out if you had. I also thought Sirius was the spy, Peter, and I thought you were dead. I think I would have simply reversed the roles if you had suddenly turned up. I don't know how well I would have listened and likely would have jumped to a conclusion that would have been unfortunate for us all."
"I'm sorry that James and Lily are gone," Peter sniffled.
"We are, too," Sirius agreed. He wiped the tears off of his face and stood up. Picking up his trash pole, speared a styrofoam coffee cup and stuffed it into his bag. "Well, let's get to work. I have an idea of something we can do for Harry, and we should discuss it."
Toma was placing the last of his robes in his small bag. Jedi did not have many possessions, and he mostly had changes of clothing. He was just closing the bag when Emma knocked on the door to the guest room he had been staying in.
"I made you something for you," she said, handing him a small parcel.
"Thank you," Toma said, taking it from her.
"It's just some cookies and a few sandwiches," Emma said. "I know you won't have a lot of room, but I wanted you to have some homemade food for your trip."
"I appreciate that," Toma said, smiling. "I'm scheduled to meet a freighter about twelve hours after I depart, and a meal will be welcome. The standard rations are not nearly as palatable as your cooking."
"It's also an apology," Emma said. "I've been very short with you lately, and I shouldn't have been."
"No apology is required," Toma said. "Much of what you've said is true, after all, from a certain point of view. I will stand by my assertion that Harry is not a slave, but I have been thinking about it and agree that he hasn't had as much choice in his life as he should have had, either."
"I know he's happy with you," Emma said, "and I would never take that away from him."
"Thank you," Toma said. "I will always do my best to do what is right for him."
"Are you sure you have to go?" Emma asked. "I worry that Harry will see this as another abandonment by the Jedi."
"I'm afraid I have even less choice in this matter than Harry has," Toma said. "I have faith in him, though. He is strong."
Dan came up to carry Toma's bag for him. Toma allowed him to carry it to the starfighter that had landed itself in their garden, then stowed it in the small cargo section. Toma stowed the parcel of food Emma gave him in the cockpit. Emma hugged him goodbye, and Dan shook his hand.
"Be safe," Emma said.
"And don't worry about Harry," Dan added. "I'm sure he'll be fine. After all, he held his own against the Werewolf, and I'm sure the school will be taking precautions now."
"May the Force be with you," Toma said and climbed into the cockpit.
Toma activated the engines and lifted off. He engaged the cloak that would hide the ship from the local militaries and flew off. Several hours later, the starship connected into the hyperspace ring he had left here so long ago. The Earth's moon blocked his view of the planet from here, but he glanced in the direction he knew the blue-green jewel lay in.
"Good luck, Harry," Toma whispered. His assurances to the Grangers to the contrary, he was hesitant about leaving his Padawan alone, especially after having been petrified for four months not that long ago. The Jedi Master had his orders, though, and he would follow them. Toma steered to the bearing that would take him to the rendezvous with the freighter he'd booked passage on. He activated his hyperdrive and slipped out of the universe with a flash of streaking white light.