Fairborn Adventures
AN: Hey guys!
Welcome to Chapter 91.
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Chapter 91
August 3rd, 1978
Long, immaculate purple robes covered his entire body, revealing merely the hem of the white button-down he wore underneath. The light from the chandeliers sparkled on expensive, black dragonhide boots his reflection wore at his feet.
'It doesn't actually look too bad…'
Harry switched his stance and posed a few more times in front of the large mirror until a faint giggle behind him sounded over the rustle of his cloak.
Marlene sat upright in their shared bed, long blonde curls slightly disheveled and the velvet blue blanket tugged underneath her armpits.
"Well...?" Harry said, turning sideways like a muggle catwalk model. "How do I look?"
"I must be the luckiest witch in all of Britain." Marlene's smirk widened: "You look very dashing… my lord." She added with a bat of her eyelashes, letting the blanket pool down her body while she stretched her arms above her head and yawned.
'I swear she does this on purpose.'
He felt a little bit of heat travel south. Harry tore his gaze back up from where it had dropped momentarily with a sly grin.
"I could think of a million things I'd be rather doing right now than go to the Ministry."
"So can I." Marlene slipped off the edge of the bed and covered herself with a short, silky bathrobe: "Too bad you have to leave anyways."
"Always teasing me during the worst moments." Harry placed his hand on the small of her back and captured her lips in a quick kiss, feeling them curl into a smile: "Let's hope it won't take too long."
"Don't get your hopes up, love." Marlene laughed and adjusted his collar: "My father just spent entire days in a Wizengamot meeting. I'll have Dobby prepare some lunch for when you get- "
'Oh no- ' Harry stifled a grin or perhaps a sigh, knowing what was about to happen.
A loud pop sounded through the master bedroom of North Dawn Manor. Suddenly a small creature with large, flappy ears and a simple white tunica wrapped around its torso stood between him and his fiancé.
"Mistress Marly called for Dobby?" The elf bounced on his heels in front of Marlene, staring up at her with utter adoration in his tennis ball-sized eyes.
"Good morning, Dobby." Marlene sighed and wrapped the bathrobe a bit tighter around her midriff: "And- uh- no. I was merely mentioning you, not calling you."
'Again.'
"Oh." Dobby's large ears flopped: "Dobby is very sorry, Mistress Marly. Dobby is so happy to serve the great Peverells that he still struggles to separate the two. If Mistress allows, Dobby will go punish himself now."
Harry crouched down: "That won't be necessary- "
"-actually, as punishment, you may bring me some breakfast to our room." The ghost of a smirk hovered on Marlene's face: "Just for one person will suffice today. Harry is off playing politics with the other lofty lords, so just have something prepared for when he comes back home later, Dobby."
The elf nodded happily: "Dobby will be right back with Mistress Marly's favorite breakfast."
He vanished with a pop.
"It's honestly a miracle he hasn't walked in on us yet." Harry chuckled.
"Let's hope it stays that way for a bit longer." Marlene stood on her tiptoes and pecked him: "Now off you go and come back to me quickly, my lord."
"As my lady commands." Harry grinned and headed to the door, receiving one last coy look from Marlene when he glanced over his shoulder.
The closest fireplace was in the small office across from their bedroom. After throwing in a handful of floo powder, Harry was whisked away in roaring green flames.
'Time to do some lording.'
Loud noises rang in his ears when he was spewed back out on the other end of the connection. He brushed off some of the ash that lingered on his shoulders and vacated the fireplace, dodging a swarm of memos that surged over his head.
"Harry, over here!" Charlus waved from close to the golden fountain, dressed in an equal set of purple robes.
"You're looking sharp, son." His grandfather clapped him smartly on the shoulder in greeting and led the way to the elevators: "We'll make a fine lord out of you in no time."
Harry rolled his eyes: "I left a very warm bed, and the prospect of sharing some very delicious breakfast in it, to show up at this ungodly hour. This better be worth it."
"Now that you're eighteen and have completed your NEWTs, I'm no longer allowed to vote in your stead, Harry. The Wizengamot expects you to be present during the first session after your birthday. It's tradition." Charlus slipped through rattling golden doors and grinned: "As much as I understand your reluctance to leave that... uh... warm bed... of yours, I'm afraid it's necessary today."
"Too bad." Harry sighed as the elevator took them down to the lower floors.
They exited on the level of the wizengamot chambers and strode down the dimly lit, black-tiled corridor side by side.
Charlus held open the door to the main chamber and led the way to the upper left ranks where Harry had seen him during either of his court sessions: "Sounds like you and Marlene have settled in well at your new home then?"
"That we have." Harry smiled, climbing the set of stairs while ignoring the many stares and hushed whispers that were thrown their way: "We even managed to fully furnish the Manor in the last two weeks."
"I can't wait to see it for myself." Charlus took a seat, greeting a few lords on the rows below them, who Harry recognized as Lord MacMillan, Longbottom, and Bones.
"You will in a few days." Harry allowed a small smile to play on his lips, letting his eyes travel over the benches ahead of him into the distance.
'Only a few more days.' Marlene's soft, warm smile hovered in front of his inner eye: 'She's been mine for a long time already, but soon we will have the finality both of us crave.'
Charlus nodded knowingly, opening his mouth when a loud banging sound suddenly rang through the hall. Harry spotted Dumbledore's silver beard at the podium underneath them, pummeling his gavel until the noises died down.
"I hereby open the 513th session of the British wizengamot."
"About bloody time, you old git." Arcturus Black's harsh voice rang over from the seat next to Charlus, as he joined them along with Marlene's brother, who sent Harry a genuine smile in greeting.
"A brief announcement before we begin..." Dumbledore turned around, his gaze coming to a rest on Harry, his face an emotionless mask.
"Today, we have the pleasure of welcoming a new face into our ranks, as the last descendant of one of the oldest British houses returns to these chambers," The Chief Warlock revealed, blue eyes never deviating from Harry while he gave a short, polite incline of his head.
"Peverell..."
His name echoed from the black walls, spoken in exciting whispers while all eyes turned on him. Feeling Charlus gently nudging him in the side, Harry stood up and gave a small bow.
'No need for introductions I suppose.'
"Harry Ignotus Peverell, having recently finished his NEWTs at Hogwarts and having turned 18 years of age, will be casting his future votes himself, instead of on behalf of his previously nominated proxy, Lord Charlus Potter."
Unsurprisingly, mutterings of disagreement rose from the more conservative ranks. Harry caught Corvus Lestrange staring at him with unhinged loathing, his knuckles white as he clung to the rest of the chair in front of him.
'You'd be long dead if only I weren't putting a huge target on my back.'
From there on the actual session resumed. Harry waited patiently as the first matter on the agenda was introduced by Lord Nott and eventually voted on, something about increasing the budget for the Department of International Magical Cooperation.
'Allocating an even bigger share on dozens of precalibrated portkeys to some remote islands in the former British colonies sounds like a very bad idea when our Auror forces are in desperate need of funding.'
Harry alongside Charlus and all of their surrounding neighbors voted against the new bill, unlike a few familiar faces from across the room.
'Perhaps coming here wasn't such a bad idea.' Harry stifled a small smile: 'I merely need to identify what group of people consistently votes together to find Voldemort's political advocates.'
After two more hours passed and two minor bills got voted on, today's agenda came to an end.
"Finally." Harry rubbed his stiff neck and stretched out his legs before rising from the bench: "No offense to any of you, but I couldn't think of anything worse than sitting in those meetings twice a week and discussing the most boring aspects of wizarding society."
'It's almost as bad as listening to Percy's lectures on cauldron thickness.'
"We don't attend every meeting, Peverell, only those where we think our votes might actually matter." Arcturus growled as they stepped down: "If you had an ounce of logic then you'd have recognized that today was one of those days."
Harry intentionally avoided Dumbledore's seeking gazes and followed the other lords out of the chamber. "The internal budget allocation, obviously."
"Aye, bloody Amadeus Nott and his pathetic attempts at directing gold away from the DMLE. If Bagnold had any backbone, she'd long question his motives for doing so..."
'Perhaps she's as corrupt as Fudge and involved in bribery?' Harry skimmed through his memories, unable to find anything on the Minister of Magic that came before Fudge's time. 'Well, I suppose it's a good sign if I can't remember anything horrible about her.'
They entered the elevator with a few of the other lords and pressed the button back up to the atrium.
The golden doors rang open, revealing a familiar figure that purposefully stood right in their path, seemingly waiting for their arrival. He was dressed in blue robes of the finest silk, with his hands on his hips while his sharp eyes found Harry and his face twisted into a sneer.
'What the hell does he want from me?' Harry frowned.
"Peverell, a word!"
"Profes- oh, apologize, I mean, Mr. Bletchley..." Harry made no effort to hide his small snort and quickly strode past him: "I'm afraid I'm on a rather tight schedule today. Your owl will reach me later."
Bletchley huffed and hurried around him again, blocking his path: "Obviously our owls do not reach you unless you choose to ignore the many missives my department has sent you on behalf of the Ministry of Magic!"
Harry frowned: 'My wards shouldn't keep owls from finding me. The ones from Gringotts and my family manage just fine.' He turned the matter over in his head: 'However, the magic is probably tweaked in a way that anything that 'annoys' me won't be able to enter, and missives from the Ministry certainly fall in that category...'
"Fine." Harry sighed and remained behind, shooting his grandfather a short nod: "What do you want from me, Bletchley."
The man clenched his jaw, glaring at Harry: "We've received intel from Gringotts that you've purchased a wizarding property a few months ago and recently finalized the sale. Is that correct?"
"I don't see what matter this is of yours?" Harry drawled, already regretting having lingered around. He came to a halt, with only Charlus still remaining with him: "As far as you've boasted around at Hogwarts, you run a private wizarding law company, not a Ministry office."
A thick vein, almost as prudent as Uncle Vernon's, started pulsing on Bletchley's forehead: "You should have listened better, Peverell. Perhaps then you might have caught that I'm also an independent contractor for the regulation of wizarding property among several other very impor- "
"Please, no lecture today, Bletchley. Even when you were a professor they had me falling asleep within seconds." Harry rolled his eyes: "Just spit out what you want already."
"All wizarding families have to register their residence with the Ministry so they may receive any correspondence addressed to them." Bletchley's calculating blue eyes sparkled triumphantly and his sneer deepened.
'He's definitely related to the Malfoys somehow.'
"Unless you wish to be dragged down into a courtroom for the third time I suggest you share it with me before I involve the DMLE in the issue."
'I don't like sharing my address but even the likes of Dumbledore and Voldemort will struggle with my wards.' Harry ran a hand through his hair. 'Besides, I could do without sitting on the accusation dock again...'
"Fine..." Harry raised an eyebrow: "But I'm surprised the Ministry doesn't keep a record similar to the one at Hogwarts, where the address of anyone eligible to attend is automatically recorded."
'It sure sounds like something our government would do.'
Bletchley's left eye twitched ever so slightly and his face fell before he cleared his throat and fixed the snarl back on his lips: "We don't have such a record, Peverell, otherwise I wouldn't be wasting my valuable time questioning you about your address, would I?"
'Now, that was weird.' Harry regarded Bletchley for a few seconds, ignoring the form held out for him to sign. 'What do you know that I don't?'
"You do know what book I'm talking about, though, don't you, Sir?" Harry carefully probed: "The one that's said to have been written and enchanted by Rowena Ravenclaw herself?"
"Yes- yes, of course I've heard about it! What do you take me for? Some muggle-bor- I mean fool?!" Bletchley snapped, his fingers curling into the wooden plate underneath the form, his knuckles ash white: "Now sign the damn form so we can both go our ways!"
'Why would you stop yourself from saying muggle-born?' Harry's thoughts were racing while he accepted the quill and notebook that was handed to him and scribbled down his address.
His heart began pounding harder when the thread of a single theory thickened.
'But can I risk it by verifying it?' He drew out a bit more time, purposefully crossing over what he'd written down to correct himself. 'I've never tried it before and I can't risk exposing myself, especially to someone like Bletchley.'
Making his decision he handed the parchment back along with the quill.
"Thanks for giving me the heads up, sir." Harry held out his hand expectantly.
Bletchley's muscle memory took over and he shook it, holding Harry's eye for a split second before he frowned in confusion.
'Gotcha!'
Harry smiled coldly as emerald green bored into cold blue and he gently brushed their thoughts together, subtly providing the first image.
'Dumbledore's office, the wide Mahogany desk, his tall shelves with books, the rune-covered pensive, Fawkes' perch.'
He poured a flash of brief images through their connection until Bletchley caught up with the train of thought and provided his own.
A tiny alcove in Dumbledore's office. A flat table with an old, leather-bound book. A ring of gold sparkled on a pale index finger that ran over the glossary, moving along surnames starting with the letter 'D' over to those starting with 'E' before pages were flipped frantically.
'It was him!' Harry tore his eyes away and ended their connection at once, squashing a volatile flare of hatred that bubbled in his stomach. 'How dare he!'
Bletchley blinked heavily in confusion and flinched back from the handshake, squinting his eyes.
'What- " He swallowed and shook his head, rubbing his left temple: "Never mind..."
Shooting one last glare at Harry, he turned on the spot with a gentle rustle of his cloak.
August 4th, 1978
Black clouds hang low in the night sky, swallowing any light the moon or the stars might have provided. Smooth, cool fabric wrapped over her skin from head to toe, flaring gently around her ankles with each step they took through the grass.
Marlene made out the slightly blurred outline of the nearby gothic manor and tall hedges of gardens as if she gazed through a thin veil of water. Her skin prickled as they edged closer, narrowing in on additional obstacles than just the visible barrier ahead of them.
'Wards.' Marlene recognized the feeling. 'But such mundane obstacles won't stop us tonight.'
A long piece of wood slipped from Harry's sleeve, peeking out underneath the opening of the cloak they shared together.
The steel rods of the tall fence melted with a smooth twist of Harry's wrist, pouring hot, gleaming steel onto the gravel, like wax dripping from a candle.
"Let's go."
The hairs on her arms stood as they overstepped the ward line and followed the path towards the entrance.
Harry began murmuring spells underneath his breath, twirling the Elder Wand between his fingers again and again. She soon felt his magic invade the plot of land with every step they took, creping over the grass towards the manor like an unstoppable avalanche of cold, deadly intent.
'See how far you've come with me by your side.' She regarded her fiancé with a mixture of pride and admiration: 'They're right to fear you. They're right to fear us...'
The golden handle shone in an eerie, silver glow before unscrewing itself with faint clicking noises. Harry tossed it aside with a flick of his wrist and curled his fingers into a tight fist. The twinged doors slowly crept open, letting them slip past and close them back shut behind them.
'Not too unwelcoming, but I prefer our own decorations.' Marlene glanced around.
Large, colorful canvases hang on the walls to either side. Expensive carpets sat on marble tiles. A golden chandelier hung high above them. Harry pulled off Death's gift in one fluent motion, wrapped it up, and stored it within his robes.
"They're upstairs." He said after taking one look around: "All three of them..."
Cold fury sparkled in his green eyes, the muscles on his strong jaw twitched. He headed over to the staircase without another word, climbing upwards in steady, determined steps.
Marlene didn't question how he knew all that and merely followed him. A faint, familiar thrill ran through her veins while she drew slow circles with her wand.
'We've waited a long time for this.'
Harry suddenly paused on the final step to the first floor, holding up his hand yet Marlene still almost walked right into him. She peeked past his torso, feeling the adrenaline spike.
'Soon.'
A faint pop echoed through the gallery on the highest floor above them.
"Mimsy heard someone, yes, Mimsy did..."
An old house-elf appeared. His tennis-ball-sized eyes shone in the darkness as he peeked over the railing down at them.
"Who is there, Mimsy asks?"
A ripple of magic surged from Harry's wand and tugged the old elf from his feet. He dangled in the air, gagging desperately with his small hands clenched around his throat. Then his head and torso wrenched in opposite directions with a quick snap.
Harry tossed the lifeless form aside and strode further, following the muffled voices from the end of the corridor.
'No more risk.' Marlene tore her eyes away from the creature and followed him, biting her bottom lip when she felt her heart pound in excitement.
Harry paused at the door and shot her one last look over his shoulder, searching her gaze for a second and waiting for her brief nod before thrusting his wand forwards.
The twin oak doors detonated into tiny splinters as they got blasted back into the room. Every window on the upper floor burst with a shrill crack, making her ears ring before she shook off the effects and jumped into action right behind Harry.
Shouts of panic and various incantations tore through the room. She dodged the first flash of green light and wrenched her wrist around, clearing the dust with a wave of her wand.
Multiple people cowered behind tossed over furniture by the fireplace to her left. Bletchley, his wife, and their son, perhaps around her brother's age, peeked over their cover, eyes widening in recognition as they found her and Harry.
"Peverell!" Bletchley screamed and hurled a curse at them. "Kill them!"
Bright green illuminated the room once more, sparkling in the glass shards that littered the table and ledges of the windows.
Marlene's wand snapped up, yanking a thin wooden plank from the floor to intercept the spell and the ones following it. She banished the splinters back at the casters, grimacing when a spatter of crimson splashed over the squishy armchair, accompanied by a satisfying cry of agony.
She absorbed two further flashes of light with a bright silver shield, grimacing as they tossed everything they had against her while seemingly ignoring her fiancé.
'What is Harry even doing?' She turned around, glancing toward him.
Her breath caught in her chest at what she witnessed.
Harry stepped through the clutter as if he strolled through a muggle park, without a single care in the world, his wand held in front of him. He looked almost like a dementor, like a tall black shadow, with his cloak gently floating behind him.
The few pieces of furniture their opponents used for cover melted into a gooey, bubbling substance, leaving them without any physical protection as they scrambled into the furthest corner.
Rubble was pushed aside to make room for Harry without him moving a single muscle. The debris, wooden splinters, and tiny glass shards jolted with each of his steps. Steam coiled from the floorboard to his feet, twirling around his ankles in soft whispers.
"Just fucking die!" Edward Bletchley cried, standing in front of his wife, who was hugging her belly over blood-sullied robes. "Why did you come here?! Why won't you just die?!"
"You know why I'm here..."
Black mist clawed from Harry's wand in high, angry screams, swallowing the incoming spells by the dozens. The Elder Wand snapped forward again, ripping three opposing wands from their grasps and burning them in a gush of hot, white fiendfyre.
"You know why I came for you..."
Harry curled his fingers, ripping the curtains from the closest walls. The blood-red fabric yanked forward, wrapping itself tightly around the limbs of Bletchley's wife and son, securing them to the walls with their feet dangling freely.
"Let them go!" Bletchley fell to his knees, arms still spread protectively over his family: "You can have me, just let them go!"
All movement stilled within the room when Harry took his final step, standing in front of him, with Bletchley to his feet. A torrent of frostiness pulsed from him, clenching the flickering flames and burying the sizzling furniture underneath a thick, cold, deadly blanket.
"No," Harry whispered.
"But we didn't do anything!" Bletchley's wife cried, still brutally pinned to the wall. Strays of gray mottled her disheveled brown hair, framing a desperate face, contorted by pain: "Please just let us- "
Her voice died in her throat, leaving her with her mouth wide open in a gape, eyes spinning in their sockets.
Harry held his arm outstretched before pulling it to his chest in one fluent motion. A spray of crimson spattered over the wooden cardboard as he tore her tongue right out of the depths of her throat in one single tug.
"She talks almost as much as you do." Harry tossed the dripping organ into Bletchley's face with a wet thud: "I didn't come to hear her talk..."
"Mother!" Bletchley's son cried in shock, staring at the woman who hung in her bindings like a marionette whose strings had been cut.
'Harry needs this.' Marlene silenced him with a flick of her wand. 'He deserves this revenge.'
"Marissa..." Bletchley himself stared at the ripped-out organ for a few seconds before retching a gush of green. He collapsed the next moment, his body trembling wildly. "Marissa... what have I done..."
"I came here because I was forced to listen and watch while my family was taken from me..." Harry summoned one of the few remaining intact chairs from the other side of the room and took a seat: "Not just once, but twice! And now, Edward Bletchley, you will endure the very same..."
August 7th, 1978
His vision blurred slightly as they staggered out of the pub onto the cobblestone street. The loud, euphoric laughter and fast-paced music from inside still rang in his ear. After downing shot after shot of firewhiskey, the alcohol in his veins made him feel euphoric. He took a deep breath, luxuriating in the warm tingle he felt throughout himself.
A hand landed on his shoulder, slapping him repeatedly in a playful manner: "You good, mate?"
Harry turned around, glancing at Sirius' infectious smile. "I'm good... I- I feel great actually..."
"Good to hear!" Sirius grinned, supporting himself on a wooden beam, and brushing dark curls behind his ears: "For someone who hardly ever drinks alcohol you sure keep it together well."
James wrapped one arm around each of their shoulders and steered them further down Knockturn alley, passing a few more brightly lit pubs and bars: "It's because he's so tall and so big... Lily once said it lets people manage the alcohol better... something about having more blood..."
"Well, big boy- " Sirius barked in laughter and steered them over to the right. Judging by the noise it was one of the most popular spots in their entire alley: "Since you can handle it all so well, I think it's time for the final stop of the night! You'll love it, and it fits you perfectly!"
'Final stop, huh?'
Harry dragged his head up, breaking out in wild laughter at what he saw on the large wooden sign dangling in front of his nose.
A naked witch rode a broom, one arm hiding her breasts, the other reaching out to catch a golden snitch.
"The Seeker's Snatch?" He echoed in amusement: "Don't tell me this is the famous strip club you've been talking about for the last two months... The name alone is horrible!"
"I don't know if this is a good idea, Padfoot." James blinked his eyes, shaking his head in an attempt to rid himself of the very same effects that plagued Harry: "I know Lily wouldn't like it if I went here. Marlene's probably the same... maybe even worse..."
'Definitely worse.'
"Come one, don't be such cowards!" Sirius grinned and attempted to push them further: "It's your last night as a bachelor, Harry, your last moments of freedom before marriage will tie you down for eternity. Besides- " He waggled his eyebrows suggestively: "Remember that veela I mentioned? I've been told by a reliable source that she's still here but chooses herself what customers to serve... Think about it! How many wizards could claim they've been with a veela?!"
Perhaps it was the alcohol that piqued Harry's curiosity and made him consider entering the club for just a split second.
An image of Fleur Delacour in her baby blue Beauxbaton school uniform swirled in his mind before he could stop himself.
'Wrong girl, Harry.'
Just as quickly as it came, Fleur's flat, platinum blond hair changed into curls of liquid honey. Her blue uniform turned white as snow, and the pair of eyes softened, staring at him lovingly from underneath a white veil.
'Much better.'
"I don't need Fleur Delacour..." Harry murmured, "I've got Marlene already..."
"What- what did you say?" James called absently: "Who's Fleur Delacour?"
"Probably a very cute baby right now." Harry shook his head with a chuckle: "James is right, Sirius." He nodded at the club: "I'm not setting foot in that establishment, no matter how curious the name might make me..."
"Spoilsport." Sirius pouted and dragged his arms over their shoulders again, steering in the other direction: "Fine, but you'll have to drink some more with me then. This one over here is really good as- "
The door to the pub they were about to enter suddenly opened and a pair of cloaked figures stepped out, coming to a slithering halt right before colliding with the trio.
"Sorry, so sorry." Sirius murmured, attempting to steer them all around when he suddenly paused: "Wait, what?! Wo- Wormy?!"
Harry's head snapped up, catching familiar mouse brown hair underneath the hood.
'Out of all nights...'
He felt the effects of the alcohol diminish instantaneously. His mind sharpened as blood started pounding through it. He quickly patted down his forearm, feeling the familiar length of his wand rest in his sleeve.
"Let's go, Pete!" The second figure, her voice that of a young woman, urged him on.
"Of course." Sirius huffed: "And then this must be..." He pulled the cloak off of both their heads in one fluent motion, revealing Elana Rosier.
"Don't ever fucking touch me again, Black!" She snapped and recoiled, pointing her wand at his heart.
"As if I'd ever step so low as to sully myself with a bigoted bitch such as yourself," Sirius growled and let his own wand slip into his palm: "Whatever my type is, it's definitely not you!"
"Let's just go, Padfoot." James attempted to drag his friend past, but the former shrugged him off.
"Oh, yeah I forgot- " Rosier scoffed: " -you'd rather go for the innocent little girls and stain them for the rest of their lives." An ugly sneer plastered over her face: "Well, I supposed it wasn't that long for your latest conquest anyways. The Fawley girl barely-"
" -don't you fucking dare talk about her!" Sirius' face shifted into a mask of rage, his wand snapped forward in a blur, sending a bright orange spell at Rosier.
A faint shield deflected the curse, just barely, yet it wasn't Rosier who had conjured it.
"Go- go away!" Peter stepped in front of her protectively, his wand pointing at Sirius, trembling ever so slightly: "I- I won't le- let you hurt her!"
"Put that away, Peter," James growled, stepping next to Sirius who was shaking with silent laughter.
"Get- get away from us first." Peter's knuckles whitened around his wand: "I- I won't ask again!"
Sirius failed to contain it any longer and threw his head back in laughter: "Look how she's playing, you Pete, look what kind of a fool you make of yourself for her!
"I- " Peter's eyes narrowed: "Stop it!"
"We saw her with so many other dudes on the Map during the time when the two of you were all cuddled up and meeting in secrecy." Sirius shook his head, blinking away tears while running a hand through his hair: "She fucked other guys behind your back, and still here you are defending her. Little Pete finally grew some balls, dashing in on his white horse to defend his princess!"
"I- I said, stop it!" Peter began trembling madly.
"You're pathetic, Peter, pathetic!"
"I said- " Peter's eyes almost bulged out of their sockets, his wand snapped up: "Sectum Sempra!"
'No.' Harry stared at the scene playing out, unable to intervene.
It felt like a Deja-Vu. Like a horrible, twisted game of fate. The laughter had not quite died from Sirius' face, but his eyes widened in shock.
Nevertheless, unlike in the scene that instantly came to Harry's mind, his godfather acted with impossible reflexes for the state he found himself in, flicking his own wand with a spin of his wrist.
The terrible bright pink curse, a spell Peter must have picked up from Snape's duel against Harry, was batted straight back at the original caster.
It tore a deep gash through Peter's robes, spattering dark blood from his chest.
"No." Sirius croaked, lowering his wand instantly, his eyes still wide, only now in horror.
Peter tumbled and plunged to the ground, spasming in an ever-growing pool of crimson.
'Looks like I'm still Fate's little pawn. Hers to play with as she likes...'
Harry felt nothing as he watched the life draining out of the rat's convulsing body. Perhaps it was just the alcohol, but a funny little voice whispered in his mind, bringing the ghost of a smile to his lips the moment Peter drew his last ragged breath, right when his eyes became dull and empty.
'And so Sirius finally got the revenge he never sought.'