Before boarding the Express, the quartet instructed their newly acquired postal owl to meet them at Hogwarts. Lucius Malfoy had jokingly suggested the purchase to cut down on delivery fees in the event 'her ladyship adopts another social crusade'. Taking him seriously and citing convenience and security, they had descended on Diagon Alley the week before the return to school.

As they had on the trip to London at the end of the first term, the four socialized with others on the train as they headed back to the castle.

"We should have scheduled Gryffindor before the break," Draco grumbled, "then we could have invited our friends to the private car."

"Yeah," Harry agreed, shaking his head. "I had good intentions, but I don't think any amount of delay will see an improvement in Weasley's manners."

They greeted a compartment filled with Ravenclaws, exiting as quickly as was polite. "Chang's pal looked like she was ready to eat you alive," Draco teased.

He shuddered. "I know that girls mature earlier than boys, but seriously! We're not even teenagers yet."

"I don't know," Draco elbowed him after letting a patrolling prefect by, "remember what Prince Andrew said about older experienced women."


The halls were dark and silent as they made their way to the forbidden corridor. Neville kept watch for Mr. Filch or, worse, his cat, while Hermione levitated a small rune-inscribed disk to the top of the locked door. Harry affixed it with a sticking spell leaving Draco to charm it invisible.

"Stage one is done," she said with satisfaction. "If anyone underage opens the door, music will play until they leave."

"Once they see Fluffy, I wouldn't think they'd stay long," Draco cracked.

"Shall we test its effectiveness?" Harry asked.

They waved at Neville, who ambled towards them. "Do you want to help with this part?" Hermione inquired.

He shook his head. "It's okay. Just get in there, set the illusion, and let's skedaddle."

It was a quick matter to apply a second runed disk to the trap door. When Hermione activated it with a tap of her wand, the whole floor shimmered and then appeared solid.

She pushed aside the hair that Fluffy's snores from one of his massive heads was blowing about. "I hope we were right about the troll."

Reasoning that the large creature could not possibly have fitted through the trap door, they concluded that there was another entrance to the maze. Therefore, they were fairly confident that its bodily comforts, such as they might be, would still be taken care of.

"Okay, safety assured," Harry stated. "Let's go."


"How can you stand to be around that discourteous blockhead?" Hermione hissed at Harry. When the door had opened for the Gryffindor meeting, he had shoved her over to pound Harry on the back in greeting, but his true sin was being almost the lone decrier of the new History of Magic professor. 'Waste of good napping time' was the way he phrased it.

Harry, observing his house yearmates, replied, "As a pureblood, I'm sure that he believes social niceties do not apply to him. I spent two years with a counselor to manage my anger over the Black betrayal and Dursley placement. Compared to those issues, dealing with an irritant like Ron Weasley is a trifling matter."

As if speaking his name had summoned him, the gangly redhead wandered over. "Hey, mate," he accosted Harry, "I got a bone to pick with you."

"Yes?" the boy replied dispassionately.

"Why didja leave the best house for the last? All year we've been hearing about the goodies you serve in here!"

Behind his back, Dean muttered to Seamus, "Maybe they wanted to make sure there'd be any left."

The Irishman's loud guffaw distracted Ron enough for Harry to make his escape, taking the opportunity to introduce Parvarti to Draco. The blond's eyes visibly widened as her chatter proved that, looks aside, she was not at all similar to her Ravenclaw twin.

As soon as the niceties were dealt with, Neville guided the conversation to Voldemort. Hufflepuffs had listened carefully, Ravenclaws analytically, and Slytherins cautiously. No one could have predicted the manner in which that discussion would go off track with the Gryffindors.

"Bullshite!" Everyone turned to look at Ron.

Hermione blinked. "Pardon?"

"I'm not sayin' that You-Know-Who isn't dead, but that wizarding flu? Gimme a break!"

"What makes you say that?"

"No way that a little cold can be that picky. Nah," he crammed another pastry into his maw, "ish jush them wot's got dead." He swallowed and glared at Draco. "Too bad it didn't kill all those evil Death Eater bastards!"

"Language!" Hermione chided as she grabbed Draco's arm to keep him from attacking the obnoxious boy.

"Are you aware of anyone else who was ill at the same time?" Harry inquired with patience.

"Well, uh," he fumbled for an example, "there must've been. Can't expect me t'know when every wizard has the sniffles."

"So, no proof," Draco snapped.

"Wait, there was one! It wasn't a wizard, but Percy's rat died right at that time. Now, whaddya say to that?"

Amid disgusted squeals from the girls, "Ew! A rat!" Harry froze.

Neville shot his friend a sharp look before taking back the floor. "You know exactly when your brother's pet died?"

"Yep," he quaffed almost an entire bottle of butterbeer and then let out a satisfied belch. "It was his third year, and he said he was kinda down when he found him dead as a doornail one night. Then the next day was when all the owls started arriving at breakfast with death notices."

The audience had to wait for him to inhale two more biscuits before continuing. "Mum said that once we could afford an owl for Perce, I'd get Scabbers, seeing that the twins didn't want him. He didn't make much of a pet, being kind of mangy and missing a toe, but at least he'd be mine." He looked around at the nicely appointed yet not lavish furnishings and scowled. "Some folks can afford new things, and I'm stuck with hand-me-downs."

Hermione chose her words carefully, "Ron, rats don't live much longer than three years. I'm sure it was just his time to go."

He gave her a constipated look. "Mebbe Scabbers was a magical rat. Percy found him when he was six, while Mum had him tossing gnomes from the garden."

Draco placed a hand on Harry's shoulder. "So that would have been late 1981, early 1982?"

Ron shrugged. "Dunno."

Hermione, seeing Harry's face get paler and paler, abruptly sat down. "Ow!" she cried, dramatically placing a hand to one temple as if on the verge of a swoon.

"What is it?" Lavender and Parvarti moved to her side as if apparated there.

"Bad headache," she moaned weakly. "Came on suddenly."

"I'll go get a potion from Madame Pomfrey–"

"No, no," she waved off the offer, "if I lie down in a darkened room, it'll go away."

"Well, then, we won't delay you." The Gryffindor girls efficiently shooed the male half of their house out, Sophie and Sally-Anne having to manhandle Ron when he tarried to stuff several cakes into his pockets.

The four friends sat in shocked silence for almost three minutes. Harry's voice was thin as he spoke, "All they found of Pettigrew was a finger."

"And no one ever questioned why that was all they found." Hermione wondered, "Would he have been able to live as Wormtail for that long?"

"He would if he had to," Draco avered harshly, "but that's not the fucking point."

"Black is in Azkaban, partly for his murder." Neville mused, running various laws through his mind. "If he didn't kill Pettigrew, there's a possibility he didn't kill those muggles."

Harry took a deep breath. "My godfather may be innocent." His eyes shone with unshed tears. "He was a nasty bully in school, but Azkaban isn't a proper punishment for that."

"For what?" Snape, having been alerted by, of all people, Gryffindors that the meeting ended early for illness, had rushed to the room and had just stepped inside.

Draco stood and faced him, his eyes as bright as Harry's. "The man that Sirius Black was put in Azkaban for murdering was hiding in his animagus form and died in the Great Purge."

Snape closed his eyes. Visions of the Marauders flitted through his mind, but he clamped down on his emotions. Painful memories of the past must take second place to a possible judicial injustice. "Then," he approached the group, "I believe you need to inform your guardian of the matter."


Her Majesty's wizarding solicitors found themselves extremely busy the next few weeks. Several members of the Weasley clan were deposed to relate their experiences with the deceased rat. Ron basked in the attention this garnered for him, never noticing the twins had added him to their mockery of 'Perfect Prefect' Percy for his notoriety in harbouring a disguised Death Eater.

Adding their testimony to the contents of Lily Potter's diaries, which included sketches of all the Marauders' animagus forms, had the Ministry and Wizengamot scrambling to avoid the blame for imprisoning a man without a trial. Lucius Malfoy, meanwhile, whipped the Daily Prophet into a frenzy, and each issue howled for restitution due to 'a Pureblood's unlawful incarceration'.

The mystery of the entry of Black as secret keeper was solved when the emaciated prisoner testified under truth potion that the position was switched to Pettigrew right before the Potters went into complete lockdown. As the retrieved diaries ended in mid-October 1981, it was presumed that any of her later writings would have been destroyed during the attack on the cottage.

As there was clear evidence of doubt as to his guilt, coupled with the fact that he had been denied a trial, Sirius Black was declared a free man and immediately remanded to St. Mungo's for health reasons.

His repeated demands to see his godson were denied, although he was finally pacified by a photograph and brief note from Harry. His reply was maudlin to the extreme, and Steadman summoned the boy's former counselor for a session the weekend before Valentine's Day.

"He is not himself at this time and may not be so for a while."

Harry nodded, his jaw tight. "He alternated between my name and my father's in the letter. He also said some...awful things about one of my favourite professors."

"Remember that he was cast into that hell when he was barely out of his teens, so do not expect him to behave or think like a normal thirty three year old man. Dementors are horrible creatures and most likely have his mind twisted in knots. Let the mind healers do their work, and when they give the go-ahead, we can see about some monitored visitation."

"He's Draco's cousin. Do you think he could come too?"

She hesitated. "He has not yet come to terms with the fact that the elder Mr. Malfoy has renounced his former bigoted beliefs. Even if he confuses you with your father, he would not harm you; as Draco so resembles his…"

"I see." Harry nodded. "He's stuck in a time warp right now."

"A rather apt way to phrase it, I might say."