Breaking the Bonds of the Past

In his life, Harry found that most things were kept locked up for a reason. Meanwhile, back across the pond, something, or rather someone was locked up for the exact wrong reason.

At the Burrow, Arthur and Molly had brought Madam Bones over and sat her down at the kitchen table. A cream-coloured cup and saucer, painted with pink roses waited as a matching pot levitated, pouring tea.

Here, have a spot of this," Molly offered.

"Thank you, Molly," Madam Bones replied, accepting the tea. "Now, where is this... pet rat of your son's?"

"It must be in Ron's room," Arthur suggested. "He usually keeps it near his bed..."

But they were interrupted by more clomping on wood as Ron was racing down the stairs, cradling the fat, dirty, gray rat with a missing toe in his palms. Oddly enough, the rat appeared to be slumped over on its back with its eyes closed and its mouth open, saliva dripping out.

When Ron saw his father sitting over at the table, he began to run faster.

"Dad!" He cried. "Dad, it's Scabbers! Something's wrong with him! He's out like a light and I can't wake him up, he's..."

Ron paused once he saw his Mother pouring tea and Madam Bones waiting at the table, acting civilly.

"Sorry," he muttered, his ears turning pink again. "I'll..."

"Ron," Arthur interjected. "Lay Scabbers on the table, will you?"

The blush from Ron's ears began to disappear as he laid Scabbers on the kitchen table./p

"Now Ron," Arthur suggested. "This might take awhile so... why don't you gather your brothers for a little Quidditch, then?"

"Sure, Dad," Ron replied, shrugging.

He darted back up the stars and once he was out of sight, Madam Bones pulled out the photo that Remus had given them, laying next to Scabbers.

"You're right," she confirmed. "They're identical."

"We must be sure," Arthur reminded her.

Madam Bones pulled out her wand and waved it over the seemingly limp rat.

"Revelio," she murmured.

The rat began to grow as its features shifted to that of a short, skinny man with grubby skin, small eyes, and a pointed nose. His hair was mousy, but colorless with a bald patch in the middle of his scalp.

The other three at the table were mortified by his appearance, but at the same time, scratching their heads.

"Is this Peter?" Arthur pondered. "He's certainly changed since the fight against You-Know-Who."

Madam Bones pulled her wand out again, aiming at the unconscious animagus.

"Enervate," she muttered.

The man let out a snort as he opened his eyes and jerked his head up, glancing at the two familiar faces.

"Arthur! Molly! Amelia!" He squeaked. "How wonderful to see you again..."

"Petrificus Totalus!" Madam Bones cried, waving her wand again.

The man froze completely on the table as Madam Bones levitated him off.

"Where is your floo grate?" she requested. "We must call the Ministry."

Arthur led Madam Bones to the fireplace at the other end of the room and handed her the flowerpot above the mantle. The two of them stepped in pulling the petrified rat-man with them as Bones threw down a handful of floo powder.

"Minister for Magic's Office, London!" she shouted.

Another green gust of flames sprang up from the bottom as the three of them were thrust into a green marble room supported with black columns, adorned with golden rococo moldings.

At the end of the room was a black fireplace behind a desk where a portly, little man sat. He wore a pinstriped suit and scarlet tie under a black traveling cloak, with purple boots on his feet and a lime green bowler hat covering rumpled grey hair.

On the desk was a nameplate which read,

Cornelius Oswald Fudge, O.M. First Class, Minister for Magic.

He sat undisturbed until he heard the sound of fire he hadn't left in the fireplace. When he saw two Ministry workers carrying an unidentified man into his office, he looked strangely irritated.

"Amelia! Weatherby! What is the meaning of this?!" he demanded.

"Cornelius, this is a man you should be very interested in," Bones replied. "We've just discovered him to be an animagus."

"That should be of interest to me?" Fudge puzzled.

"Once he identifies himself, perhaps," Bones suggested, aiming her wand at the stranger. "Finite incantatem."

The man unfroze as he started glancing around, trying to get his bearings back.

"Where am I?" he squeaked.

"Sit," Bones ordered. "You look like you could do with a little assistance. Perhaps a meeting with the Wizengamot is in order, along with a few... Ministry reparations."

"Oh yes!" squeaked the stranger. "Ministry assistance is exactly what I need!"

"How dare you, Bones!" Fudge cried. "I am the Minister of Magic..."

"Exactly," Bones finalized. "And it's in your hands to keep track of every wizard living in Britain, is it not?"/

"Very well," Fudge sighed in defeat. "We'll set it up for..."

"Three o'clock, this afternoon." Bones insisted.

"What?!" Fudge demanded.

"I have urgent business with Dumbledore to get to immediately," Bones explained. "Speaking of which, you might want to call him. I think our little affair may tie into all of this."

"Fine," Fudge grumbled, moodily nodding his head.

Madam Bones waved her wand again and muttered the same incantation that petrified the stranger before.

"Arthur," she requested. "Keep an eye on your son's ex-rat, will you?"

"Absolutely, Amelia," Arthur agreed.

"Before you call Dumbledore, Cornelius," Bones interrupted. "May I use your Floo? I have an urgent call I must make before the meeting."

"Yes, yes, Amelia," Fudge grumbled. "Good, good."

From a black pot above the fireplace, she scooped out another handful of Floo powder.

"Remus Lupin's house!" she cried, tossing it in.

With the green flames pouring in, Madam Bones stuck her face for an expectant Lupin waiting on the other side.

"Amelia?" Lupin queried. "I trust you have news for me?"

"Yes, Lupin," Bones confirmed. "We believe we've found Pettigrew, but we'll need to convince the rest of the Wizengamot."

"How do you plan on it?" Lupin requested.

"There is to be a trial at three o'clock today," Bones explained. "All the evidence may very well be on our favour, but it will require your presence as well, since you provided us with the photograph."

"I promise you I will be there," Lupin confirmed.

"Perfect," Bones concluded. "I'll see you again at three, Remus."

"Good Afternoon, Amelia," Lupin dismissed.

Once the wave of green flames died out, Fudge glanced at Madam Bones with the same shock as when she entered.

"Was that Remus Lupin, the werewolf?" He questioned.

"Yes," Bones confirmed. "Now, I advise you to wait for the meeting for any further answers, Cornelius."

"Fine," Fudge repeated.

Two hours later, Bones and Lupin were clutching a petrified rat-man, waiting outside a large, black door with a sign above, reading Courtroom 10.

Bones, again, waved her wand across the rat-man, Lupin watching casually.

"Finite Incantatem," she muttered.

Once the man was able to feel his feet on the cold floor, he fell to his knees, embracing it like snow-covered ground, until he saw whose feet he was at.

"Remus!" he squeaked. "My old friend!"

"Save it, Peter," Remus insisted. "Let's see what the Wizarding World has to say about you now."

"Yes! Yes!" Pettigrew squeaked nervously.

"They're ready for you now," Bones announced as the door opened.

Through the door, the three of them entered the square, black courtroom from the right, which was surrounded by several levels of rising benches. Just opposite the highest benches was another door, from which entered about fifty witches and wizards in plum-coloured robes embroidered with silver letter "W"'s.

Sitting in the front row of benches was, in fact, Cornelius Fudge, who didn't look too pleased to have Arthur Weasley sitting next to him.

Dumbledore patiently stood next to a wooden armchair with chain clasps attached to the arms, Moody and Tonks waiting at either side. Madam Bones seated the rat-man in the chair, fastening his wrists down as Dumbledore took to a nearby podium.

"Emergency Wizengamot Session Seven Hundred, called to order on the ninth of July, at three o'clock," he began.

"Chief Warlock Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge, called to order by Madam Amelia Bones, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, backed by Head of the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office Arthur Weasley, Remus Lupin, Former Auror Alastor Moody, and Auror-in-Training Nymphadora Tonks."

Tonks presented Dumbledore with a glare, though Moody had to restrain her from saying anything.

"I will turn now turn the floor over to Madam Bones to commence with the session," Dumbledore concluded.

"Thank you, Chief Warlock, and those who those who place their trust in me," Bones began. "Witches and Wizards of the Wizengamot, Minister Fudge has called this meeting together on account of a miscarriage in justice; this man needs help. Perhaps some nourishment to start with?"

She slowly withdrew a small green bottle from her robes, containing a clear, odorless fluid, not unlike water. On this bottle was a label which read Veritaserum, but she covered it in her hand, so the rat-man couldn't see it.

"Drink this," Bones offered, handing him the bottle.

Since her hand was covering it up, the rat-man took it and began to drink rather quickly, beginning to feel slightly drowsy after finishing.

"Now," Bones began. "Will you tell us your name, please?"

"Wormtail," he squeaked.

A few mutters were heard amongst the people on the benches until Fudge cleared his throat again.

"The Wizengamot recognizes Minister Fudge," Bones acknowledged.

"Thank you, Amelia," Fudge drawled. "Still, I don't believe I've ever heard of a 'Wormtail' in the entire history of the Wizarding World."

"Well fortunately, minister, we managed to locate him with this," Bones continued, removing Lupin's photograph from her robes.

She handed it to Fudge, who eyed it up and down, scratching his head as he glanced at the animals.

"Amelia, this is a photograph of a stag, a dog, and a rat!" Fudge insisted.

"Look closer," Bones instructed, gesturing to the signatures. "As you can see, the name 'Wormtail' has been written under the name 'Peter Pettigrew'."

"What?!" Fudge cried. "Impossible! Pettigrew's dead! Killed by Sirius Black, everyone knows that!"

"Everyone also knows what was left at the scene of the crime," Bones added.

She released the clasps on Pettigrew's hands and led him up to the benches, showing his hand, minus one finger.

Fudge and the others blanched at the sight before Madam Bones led a pale, quaking Pettigrew back to the chair, chaining him up again.

"As you can tell by the greeting, this photograph was in the possession of Remus Lupin," Bones furthered. "And that it was taken on his twenty-first birthday, identified by Ministry records as the tenth of March, Nineteen Eighty-One; not long before the untimely incident of 1981 supposedly happened."

"As per Ministry law, I may deny the word of a werewolf," Fudge snidely insisted. "Also I demand to know how you led yourself to believing you found him?"

"That was Arthur Weasley's doing, if I may grant him the right to speak," Bones fired back. "But that will only happen if you turn the court back to me..."

"Yes, yes, Amelia," Fudge grumbled. "The floors is your once more."

"Thank you Minister," Bones acknowledged. "The Wizengamot now recognizes Department Head Weasley."

"Thank you Amelia," Arthur began. "To answer that question, I've matched the rat in the picture to the one my sons have kept as a pet," Arthur continued. "Funny how a common garden rat can live as long as twelve years, isn't it?"

"Weatherby, what do you mean to say?" Fudge interjected.

"Minister, though the floor has been turned away from you, Pettigrew was an animagus." Arthur replied, not looking pleased.

"Impossible!" Fudge denied. "We have no records!"

"Minister!" Bones reprimanded. "Besides, all the evidence is here. Which reminds me... I have a few questions of my own, if I may have the floor back, Arthur?"

"Absolutely Amelia," Arthur agreed. "The floor is yours."

"Thank you, Arthur," Bones replied. "Although Minister Fudge may deny Lupin's words, I have a right to call him to the stand."

Lupin, with no telling twice, joined Bones next to the chair where Pettigrew was bound.

"As I was saying..." Bones continued. "Exactly how did you manage to escape?"

""I... I don't know what you're t-talking about!" Pettigrew insisted.

"Surely, there is a reason you cut off your finger," she suggested. "Might it have something to do with an explosion? One that killed twelve muggles, no less?"

"B-Black did it!" Pettigrew stuttered. "Sirius Black!"

"Really?" Bones mused, looking him directly in the eye. "Well, if he made craters in the ground, with only a wand, what sense is it to simply remove proper digits?"

"B-Black..." Pettigrew repeated.

"And if I recall," she interjected. "You both attended Hogwarts together, along with Remus Lupin and Lily and James Potter."

"Y-yes..." Pettigrew comfirmed.

"I know this much, since the five of you were all very much involved in the fight against He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, yes?" Bones added.

"Y-yes..." Pettigrew repeated.

"Still, though, isn't it odd that the others; Potter, Black, and Lupin seemed to be held in higher regards than you?" she suggested.

By now, Pettigrew's nose had begun to tremble and his face was even paler.

"That can lead one to view the outsider with suspicion," she reaffirmed. "It can also strike envy in a man's heart. An envy that can oftentimes leads to... betrayal, can't it?"

Pettigrew's nose kept twitching and his eyes began to get watery, until finally, tears were running down his face.

"Yes! yes..." he sobbed. "It was all my doing! I sold Lily and James to Voldemort! I drew my wand first, blew up the street, and cut off my finger! I never registered as an animagus, so I was able to slip away easily!"

The Wizengamot members on benches were heard muttering amongst themselves, while Fudge appeared to be blanching even harder than before, Lupin staring in disbelief.

"If I may, Madam Bones," He interrupted.

"The court recognizes Remus Lupin," Bones accepted.

"This is something that had slipped by me," Lupin continued. "Perhaps Pettigrew can tell us why he, James Potter, and Sirius Black had become animagi without registering?"

"He was a werewolf!" Pettigrew sniffed. "It was all James' idea. He wanted to help Lupin out with his transformations, so we all learned the process. He was always the one who came up with the ideas! Both him and Black!"

"If I may turn the court back to you, Madam Bones," Lupin interjected. "Exactly how did you get Pettigrew to confess?"

"It was all through the use of Veritaserum," Bones explained. "It may bring the honest truth out of the accused, but only the truth in his eyes. Sometimes you must make guilt work against your opponent. Also, it seems to me that there's only one bit of proof left that the Minister needs."

She unclamped Pettigrew from the chair and he started to run, but she held her wand up to his neck, Moody and Tonks joining her until he was completely surrounded. Pettigrew wrinkled his nose, curled his fingers and began to shrink back into his rat form.

"Petrificus Totalus!" Bones cried as Pettigrew reached his final stage of transformation. "I believe he isn't going anywhere."

She handed the petrified rat to Fudge, who cautiously glanced back and forth between it and the photograph.

"All evidence is in our favour, Minister," Bones pointed out. "Or would you rather have a recess and come back with a verdict? Then again, why do I ask you? You are not the Chief Warlock."

Bones took the photograph and petrified rat from him and handed them to Dumbledore, who appeared to be stroking his beard, himself.

"What do you suggest, Chief Warlock?" Bones requested.

"I believe a recess is in order, Department Head Bones," Dumbledore suggested. "Fifteen minutes, since I have urgent business to attend to after all of this."

With a bang of a gavel, the witches and wizards in plum cloaks exited back through the door opposite the benches, Dumbledore following.

Meanwhile, Lupin stood off to the end, trying his best to look neutral, but a young pink-haired woman was looking at him funny.

"Not tryin' to hide anything, are we?" she teased.

"No," Lupin dismissed. "Of course not."

"It's the werewolf thing, isn't it?" Tonks continued.

"Nympha..." Lupin began. "Tonks... please just drop it."

"Drop it?" she cried. "Are you mad? I had to restrain myself from hexing ol' Bonesy for calling me Nymphadora!"

"It's a prefectly sensible name on your part," Lupin assured her.

"Are you trying to sound like my mum?" she queried.

"No," Lupin insisted. "That was a compliment."

"Thanks..." Tonks shrugged. "I guess."

"Once the fifteen minutes were up, Dumbledore, Fudge, and the others returned through the same door and reseated, whilst mumbling amongst themselves, until they heard another bang of the gavel.

"Order!" Dumbledore cried. "Does the Wizengamot have a verdict? Yes? Well then, those in favor finding the defendant guilty?"

Twenty-seven of the fifty hands were raised, some going up faster than others.

"Those who claim innocence?" Dumbledore continued.

Twenty-three of the fifty hands were raised, most going up slower than a select few.

"Nearly a deadlock, you might notice. Still, even in a Quidditch match, the team that catches the snitch may lose if the other team has more points. The Wizengamot finds the defendant guilty, the sentence unjustly placed on Sirius Black is hereby revoked to him."

"Now, just a minute!" shouted Fudge, rising from his seat. "That photograph indicates Sirius Black was also an unregistered animagus! What say you to that?"

"Nearly twelve years have passed, Cornelius," Dumbledore reminded him. "It seems to me that Black has more than served his sentence. Don't you agree?"

Fudge's mouth remained open, but he had nothing more to say to that, apart from the grumble that escaped his nose.

"I thought so," Dumbledore chuckled. "Amelia, Alastor, Nympha... Tonks, I think we best not leave Pettigrew in this form any longer, should we?"

He handed the rat back to Bones, who was still gathered with Moody and Tonks. She placed it into Moddy's gristly hands, waving her wand again.

"Finite incantatem," she commanded, unfreezing the rat.

It skittered around in Moody's palms, before he grabbed it tightly, while Madam Bones waved her wand a second time.

"Revelio," she ordered as the rat grew into the mousy, quivering Pettigrew.

"Amelia..." he stuttered. "I..."

"Save it, Peter," she demanded. "Save it for the dementors of Azkaban."

"No!" Pettigrew cried. "You can't take me there! I'll do anything! Anything!"

Pettigrew whimpered, too scared to try and make a quick getaway as Bones and the two aurors escorted him out of the courtroom.

"Well then," Dumbledore concluded. "So let it be recorded; this issue has been presented, its results have been handled. Thus, this Emergency Meeting of the Wizengamot is now adjourned."

With another bang of the gavel, the members on the benches disbanded and exited back through their respective door, while Dumbledore stepped out to meet with Bones and the aurors.

Meanwhile, far off the eastern shoreline of Great Britain, a rocky island was nestled in the middle of the North Sea. Standing in the center was a towering, gray fortress with four long battlements rising at each corner.

Waves crashed far below the main entrance and yet this place still smelled of saltwater. But as Bones, Moody, and Tonks took Pettigrew in, they'd find it smelling even worse. Guarding the gated entrance was a grayed, decaying figure in a black cloak with empty eye sockets and a gaping hole where it's mouth should have been.

This would be one of many dementors the party would encounter as they passed numerous cells holding witches and wizards in gray-striped uniforms crying,

"Let me out!

I'm innocent!

"Forgive me!"

These prisoners were lucky if they could avoid the wrath of the dementors guarding their cells, but not so much as one gaunt-looking man, resting bitterly in a cell marked Prisoner ᛈᛉ390.

His face was sunken, his teeth and skin were an almost waxy yellow, and his black hair was matted and long, as if he had once been a handsome man.

When he saw four silhouettes approaching his cell, he leaned up to get a better look. Once Pettigrew came into view, his eyes became furious. Physically, though, he looked as if he didn't have the energy to make any further movements.

What he didn't notice was that Pettigrew was also dressed in a uniform not unlike his own. He wetted his lips and opened his mouth, but Madam Bones beat him to letting out any words.

"Sirius Black," she began. "Today, we received a most surprising update from an old friend of yours. Thus, you have been acquitted of all crimes and you will be released immediately."