Peter Pettigrew, Most Wanted

by VizeerLord

Post Fourth Year Summer, Harry finds an Answer to many of his problems. Only He did not it run it before the adults in his Life. Now Harry tries to find the Life that was to be His, the Order tries to find Harry, and everybody else is looking for the Rat that lays the golden eggs. Pairings TBD, Albus and Molly bashing...

2. Chapter 2

Peter Petigrew, Most Wanted

01

ISDH

121

Lord Potter stepped out onto the stoop of Madam Malkin's.

The hour that he spent getting measured, fitted, and dressed, allowed the heat to dissipate. While the Robes he was wearing bore no crest, he looked quite Lordly. Slate Gray Double Breasted waistcoat over double pleated trousers. The Boots they had settled on were knee high, black, with an inch heel. Over this he wore an Earth tone Brown Robe that could pass for a silk trench coat.

First Stop from here was the Trunk Stop/Luggage Lounge. As the chime over the door rang out, the witch behind the counter checked her hair and make up. As he approached the counter, his eyes roamed the displayed trunks and cases.

"Hello Harry." Beatrice Haywood purred, leaning on the counter, pushing her breasts up and out. "What brings Hogwarts' Most Eligible to these parts?"

"Looking for a new Trunk... or Case preferred" Harry answered, never looking at her healthy bust offered in his direction. Never looked at it twice, never thought about squeezing them in his palms, nor burying his face and… nope, He never did… well may another peek… "I am looking for something "small" that I can carry with me, but has enough "room" for me to take what I Want."

"Well we have a few Scamander Class Twos on sale. We have to sell them together, they are a matched set." She led him toward the back of the where she pulled two extra large briefcase size trunks off the high shelf. They measured about 30inx 18inx, 7in. The whole time since she left the counter, she wiggled her hips just a bit more, she stretched just so…

Setting the cases on the floor, she undid the locks on both, but only opened the left. "Newton had his custom made, but Grandpa-pa had orders for something similar when the news of his misadventure in New York hit the Papers. The Class Ones were more mobile store rooms. The Class Twos are more mobile Tea Parlors/game rooms." She entered the open case, climbing down the steep spiral stairs just inside. Harry followed her into the darkness. A wave of her wand and the sconces lit with a glow. "As these are not owned yet, you have to lumos/nox the lights. As you can see, very roomy…" her voice dropped to a husky tone that sent a shiver up his spine.

The room was nicely decorated in leather. A couch in one corner looked to hold fifteen sitting or five sleeping. He saw a billiards table in another corner. A small fireplace sat between two doors. He opened the door on the right, and found a bath that rivaled the Prefects Bath at Hogwarts. The Door on the Left led to a Kitchen and Dining area, Aunt Petunia would overlook Magic for. There was still room for the thing guys get up to when they gather in groups.

Harry turned to look at 'Bea, only to see her sprawled on the couch in a manner he could only take to mean that she wanted some … Physical Attention. 'Yes Please, and Pass… for now. But she is getting a tip.' He cleared his throat. "You said a 'matched set'?"

The Witch sighed, and pouting, stood from the couch, and walked to the Fourth Wall(insert Deadpool pun here) where between two floor to fifteen foot ceiling bookcases stood a massive wardrobe. Pressing a hidden button, caused the wardrobe to slide forward, the swing open like a heavy door. She pushed on through, as he followed.

It was like passing through a curtain of cold water. It chilled Harry to the bone, but he was now in a mirror of the room he had just left, only everything here was covered in deep purple velvet. The Billiards Table was replaced with a table, four armed and upholstered chairs, and a golden harp. In the center of the Table was a crystal ball, set to light up the room.

"Both Cases come as is, the couches are built-ins I'm afraid." the Witch pushed another hidden button, causing the seat to rise up to form a Potions Lab. "The Lab is rune charmed for air cleaning and freshening." she pushed the button and the Lab tucked away into the sofa again.

"Wicked!" Harry grinned at the witch. "Sold."

"Are you sure you don't want to try out the couch?" Bea pouted.

Harry tried to leer, "I would love to, if I had the time, but I need to finish other Business before the closing of the Day." Stepping close to catch her chin, lifting her head until her eyes met his. "You Can brag that you tempted me, and left me wanting more, because you have. Now, How much are you going to overcharge me for these outmoded cases?" he smiled.

"Well, A Scamnder Class II, when they were crafted, were going for GG600 apiece. The Joining of the Set… another GG150." she climbed up the circular stairs, before pushing on a darker ceiling tile. As it gave way, she climbed out. "Now Remember I work on commission." she smiled at him.

"Well by my math, brand new, these beauts were GG1350. Fair enough. Well cared for, soaking in the ambient magic of the shop, the runes should be well charged. With inflation, let's call it GG1500. Now You are needing the space, needing to move them together, and no doubt will be talking about What Lord Potter bought in here." Harry closed the Cases, and lifting them both, headed back to the counter. "Again, Like I said, I have Business elsewhere. With Items this expensive and outmoded, some haggling is expected." He placed the two cases on the counter, Beatrice steeped behind it, dropping the wing back into place. "You lead with GG900, a good mark down, but still in the shop's favor. I counter back with GG600, a good amount for the shop, but a real bargain for me. After some nail biting back and forth, we settled on GG750. Sound good to you?"

"Sold!" the booming voice behind Harry was the first warning that someone was there. "Coin of course. Promised me Da that I would only take coin for them." Harry looked over his shoulder at a guy who could have been Hagrid's younger brother. He was dressed in a flannel shirt, a kilt, knee high boots, and a leather apron.

Harry pulled out his coin pouch and started counting and stacking gold coins on the counter. Seventy-five stacks of ten. The big guy pushed 15 stacks to Bea, before sliding the rest into a coffer, he slid back into his apron.

Harry takes his cases, heads out. He drops one off a Milkin's, for them to just drop his purchases into, he will pick it up later tonight.

Next Stop, the Prophet.

The place was a madhouse. Along the stone wall, eight cubbies held a small fire, six were green as someone was sitting before it, screaming into the flames. The second floor had desks arranged around the railing so the reporters could just drop their articles to the Editor below. Harry saw Rita's Desk, but it was empty. He sighed, then he grinned.

Stepping up to the receptionist. "Potter to see the Editor in Chief."

The witch behind the desk, reading witch weekly, popped her gum, "Yeah Right Luv, Pull the other one."

Harry Blinked, he was used to his name opening doors, even if he avoided using it. "Let's Try this Again, Lord Potter to see the Editor in Chief."

She pulled the mag to her tank-top covered rack, as her muggle style painted face looked up at him. Her Purple eyes slowly rolled over him, as if undressing him. "Yo! Chief!" she yelled over shoulder.

"What!" a portly man smoking a cigar yelled back from his office. "And Don't Yell across the Bullpen!" As he lumbered as only a short man can.

"Claims to Be Lord Potter!"

All noise died in the office. All faces snapped to the front desk. Before five reporters scrambled to get to him first. The Chubby Chief also picked up his pace. "Lord Potter, What brings you to our humble paper?" he whipped his now sweaty brow with a pocket square he had pulled from a pocket. "As To the Article we Ran this morning...he-he...the Ministry you know…"

Harry frowned. "I missed the Prophet this morning. I was too busy claiming my rings and settling my accounts. It seems that the Ministry, in its usual stupidity, assigned me to the laziest magical guardian they could find. I spent the last fourteen years knowing nothing of my duties to our people. I will forgo any slight against myself and my House, as of Now. If another untrue slanderous word is printed about Potter, well, you've seen me handle a Dragon."

"Milord." Cuff bobbed his head.

"Good good." Harry clapped him on the shoulder. "First order of Business; I need to post this notice." he handed a folded piece of parchment to the balding wizard. "The Goblins have already sent a copy to the DMLE, and to external media outlets, but they should not receive them until morning."

WANTED

PETER PETIGREW

Crimes include but not limited to;

Treason. Murder. Attempted Murder. Torture. Use of the Unforgivables

Accessory to Murder; before and afer the fact

Massive Wanton Destruction

Terrorism

Practice of the Darkest Arts

Unregistered ani-magus

REWARD:

GG500,000

Held in escrow

until suspect is captured and identified by Gringott's personal

Identifying traits;

Turns in a brown rat

Silver right forearm

Paid from the Vaults of House Potter

Cuff read it twice. "You realize Petigrew is dead."

"He Is Not!" Potter hissed. "He Betrayed my Parents! He Framed Black! And just last month, he brought back…" Harry fought to regain control. "Besides, the goblins would not issue a Warrant for the Bounty of a deadman, would they. Also, one reason they are being so slow in spreading the word… they want a swing at the purse. Now, how much to run that, front page, above the fold?"

"Above the Fold? Bugger that! It gets the full page. Now the story behind it?" two reporters squeezed in closer.

"Sorry Lads. Rita was promised it, but she is sitting a time out for slandering left and right during the Triwizard fiasco." A sharp look at Cuff, "Send her a note that says 'Potter will meet her at the estate park in Little Whining. She is welcome to bug him for the afternoon, day after tomorrow.' those words exactly please."

"Sir." a nod of his shiny head, "And photos?"

"She can work a camera, can't she?" At Cuff's frown, "Alright, you can send Bozo too."

"Thank you very much sir. Anything else?"

"Who is your lowest dog in the pit? The last one to get a story?"

"Roberts!" a wizard so young he still had pimples hurdled the rail from the second floor, to land lightly beside the Editor. "What do you need him for?"

"It Is more what you need him for." Potter smiled, "You are going to want everything, and I mean Everything, on Black. You are going to want to have even his first year transcripts. I will give you a hint. The story is not what you will find, but what you won't find." He picked up his case and headed out.

Next stop, the Owl emporium.

Here, He bought two of the most sturdy chest high perch stands, three bags of treats, different flavors; bacon, rat, and lizard, and a male snowy owl. The owl rode on his shoulder as he packed everything else in the velvet tea room.

His next stop was the Magical Menagerie.

He avoided the cat-nip. The last time he got that for Crookshanks, the beast left the toy on Hermione's pillow. Poor girl was stoned all weekend. The only time she did not argue with Ron. Scared the whole Tower. Instead he got a self warming, self fluffing pillow, for Crook's carrier.

The owl barked.

"Not for you, but for the Master of my best friend." He Also got a velvet otoman in blood red, that while not the same colour as the tea parlor, it was a good match.

He scratched a note to Herminoe, and sent it with the snowy, before he collected his Case from the ladies at Milkin's, dropped a few gold into each palm, as he kissed each witch on the cheek, and vanished into the bustling hordes of wizards and witches heading home.

Once out on the street, he joined the group of magicals that were standing at the edge of the muggle repelling zone. As Big Ben struck the First Chime of Five O'Clock in the afternoon, The purple triple decker bus skidded to a stop with a bang, a weeze, a sigh, and a groan. The doors forward and back snapped open, and the masses began to climb aboard.

Passing Stan, Harry just handed him a gold, and climbed to the second floor, where found a battered lazy boy recliner. Casting a sticking charm on his cases, the chair, and the seat of the chair, he dropped in and waited for the ride to begin.

The Doors snapped shut as did Harry's ass. The driver honked the horn twice… then slammed the Accelerator to the floor, popped the clutch, yanked the gear shifter into alignment. Had this been a muggle machine, either the engine or tranny would have exploded. This being the Knight-Bus… everyone, but Stan was thrown back into their seats as the bus went from Zero to One Twenty Kilometers per hour, in three seconds.

Stan climbs the stairs up to the second level, where he leans on Harry's chair. "Hey there Neville. Just reading up on your Mate, Harry Potter." Slapping the Lad with a copy of the Prophet on the shoulder.

Harry with a stone straight face looks up at the conductor. "That Wanker? What makes you think he is a friend of mine?"

Stan opened the paper to show the front page. There was a picture from his Triwizard Wand Weighing. "Are you sure?"

"The Bloody Bloke gets his bloody picture in the paper, and everybody thinks they know him." Harry scoffed. He looked out the window. He rattled off an address, before looking at Stan. "Potter is a wand to have your back, He has done me no harm, I would like to return the favor."

"You gonna keep playing that game are ya?"

"When a person as well known as Potter is trying to move quietly about Town, he does not shout his name from rooftops, and trusts those in the know to keep mum." another gold walked along the back of his fingers, before flipping at Stan's face.

Stan took the hint.

And the gold.