Chapter Nine
July 20th, 1981
Hermione and Remus returned to the living room and found a calmer Sirius, to Hermione's relief. She had seen firsthand what Sirius Black was capable of when he was in a manic state, but this younger version of him had not endured twelve years of Azkaban and the scars that would come with it. She eyed him speculatively, trying to figure him out.
It was easy to see Remus in the man she had known before. While younger and more hopeful, Remus had intense eyes that looked calm, but only at first glance—like a gentle river just upstream from a dangerous waterfall. He bore the scars she remembered—though had yet to earn several she could recall.
Sirius, on the other hand, was very different. While he had never looked particularly healthy or stable in any sense, she now understood why those who had known him in his youth had been so horrified upon seeing him later in life after his escape from prison. Hermione struggled to choke back her emotions looking at him now as a young man and realising that the Sirius she had known had been a shadow of his former self.
"Like what you see, love?" Sirius asked with a wink.
Unaware that she had been staring, Hermione flushed and tucked herself against Remus's side when she heard him growl low. Before either had a chance to reprimand the man, James shoved the side of Sirius's head and muttered, "Behave, Pads."
The two sat side-by-side on the sofa with Lily bracketing Sirius in the middle. Once baby Harry had been passed over to his godfather, Sirius had not bothered to communicate with anyone other than to occasionally make acknowledging grunts or incredulous snorts when Lily retold the story of how Harry and Hermione came to be inside Potter Cottage.
"You're not my type," Hermione finally said, steeling her nerves as she remembered what it used to feel like to face off against Sirius. As a child, she had been somewhat intimidated by the man—and only her worry for Harry and her defence of house-elves brought out the courage to get snippy with him. Now, at roughly the same age as he was, she did not feel held back by manners that had been drilled into her by her parents about respecting her elders.
Grey eyes sparkling with humour, Sirius looked back and forth between her and Remus. "I can see that. So what's this about then? Run off and get hitched while you were on holiday, Moony?"
Remus rolled his eyes and settled a warm hand on Hermione's lower back. "No. And this is none of your business. My relationship is hardly our most pressing concern at the moment."
"Just saying," Sirius muttered with a grin, "if I knew you had a thing for future girls, I would've nicked you a Time-Turner or two back in school." Before Remus could respond, Sirius had already cleverly switched gears. "So you've gone and figured out a way to do in old He-Who-Has-A-Stupid-Name? What are we waiting for then?"
"My—"
"There are three of us who came to the past," Hermione said, cutting Harry off. "We need to get everyone together before we start making plans. You all still need to be briefed on the details, but our goal is to avoid as many casualties as possible this time."
She caught Harry staring at Sirius with a lost expression on his face. Sighing, she cleared her throat to get his attention. When he did not give it to her, but instead looked away, she frowned.
"Before we do anything, this one has to go back to bed." Lily reached for baby Harry, only to have Sirius pull him back.
"No, I'll do it. It's been forever and a half since I've put him to bed, Lils. Give a bloke a break." Shifting the sleepy baby in his arms tenderly, Sirius kissed the top of his head and stood, making his way toward the stairs.
Despite not being directly in Sirius's path, Harry moved away, arms folded across his chest.
Everyone noticed.
"Maybe I'll make some cocoa," Lily offered. "Anyone want a little firewhisky in it? Eh, I'll just bring the bottle."
Harry took her seat, awkwardly leaning on the arm of the sofa. James stared at him and cast a worried look at Hermione.
She tried to assure him with a soft smile, but she did not feel like her heart was in it. "I'll be right back. I left something upstairs." When Remus turned to follow her, she placed a hand on his chest. "No. It's fine. I'll be fine."
She found Sirius sitting in a rocking chair next to the crib in Lily and James's bedroom. The baby was already fast asleep.
"Got lost for a second," Sirius said, not looking up as she stepped into the doorway. "Harry hasn't slept with them since he was about six months old. At least, I think. Been gone for awhile."
"He loves you."
Turning his head slightly, Sirius made eye contact. "Moony? Nah. People suspected and spread some rumours, sure, but—"
"Harry."
As if the name had been a trigger, Sirius glanced at the crib.
"My Harry. The one downstairs. He loves you. You were . . . Sirius, Harry did not have a good life, and that was even before every waking moment was filled with thoughts of war. But, for a time, he had you. And you were everything. You were hope for a life and a family that he had never known before. You were this . . . magical thing that came out of nowhere and connected him to his parents in a way that no one else had been able to. You connected him to his family and to his magic. Speaking as a Muggle-born, that's a gift. Harry, for the first time, wasn't just some name that people whispered about. He was someone's child. He belonged to someone. He belonged to you."
She watched as her words hit him, hoping that they would not smack up against a wall but instead penetrate what she knew to be a hard skull. Sirius's emotions always seemed to run high, but she had never figured out whether it was a side effect from prolonged dementor exposure or simply just a facet of his personality. Something she said must have resonated with him though, as his brow pinched and the corners of his mouth turned down.
"I don't know him. He's a grown man. For fuck's sake, he looks the same age as . . . I didn't ask for this."
"He's your godson," she whispered as she stepped fully into the room, glancing over the railing of the crib to see the baby sucking on his thumb. "He's Harry."
"He ended up having a shit life. I've clearly failed him as godfather."
"When we first got the Time-Turners, he wanted to save you."
Sirius looked up, eyes slightly widened. "What do you mean?"
"You. You first. He didn't think immediately about the friends that we had lost or the countless innocents that had been murdered by Voldemort and the Death Eaters. He held his Time-Turner and said, 'I can save Sirius now.'"
She remembered sharing a panicked look with Draco because they knew how far the devices could go back without vanishing them, and saving Sirius alone would throw them back into the beginning of their war. No, they would have to travel in small increments only. If all else failed, their travel would have to span decades in order to save everyone, not just the few years it would take to save one man.
"Before he thought about saving the world, saving his friends, even saving his parents . . . Harry Potter wanted to save you. So please, Sirius, I know you don't know me, and you have trust issues. I've met many members of your family, so I'm well-versed in the reasons for why you are the way you are."
He stared at her as though he were trying to contemplate whether or not that was an insult.
"Give him a chance."
They walked back down the stairs together. Lily had a tray with cups of cocoa sitting on the coffee table next to a bowl of marshmallows and a bottle of firewhisky. Remus and James were taking turns throwing said marshmallows into one another's mouths while Lily and Harry quietly chuckled at them.
At the foot of the stairs, Hermione and Sirius drew everyone's attention.
Remus sat up. "Everything all right?"
"Lad went down quick," Sirius said, clearing his throat before he crossed the room and snatched the bottle of firewhisky from the table, agilely moving two steps back when Lily squawked at him and made to grab it. "Too slow, Evans."
She rolled her eyes and fell back against the sofa, kicking her feet up on James's lap and smiling when Hermione moved to the loveseat to snuggle in next to Remus.
"Come on then," Sirius said, gesturing for Harry to stand up. "If I'm going to be your godfather, I'm going to give you your first drink."
Harry stood, looking hopeful as a grin slowly overtook him. "But I've already—"
"Don't argue," Sirius insisted, putting an arm around Harry's shoulders as he led him toward the kitchen. "We'll pretend it's your first if it's not. Someone has to teach you how to properly savour firewhisky. Merlin knows your mother is a lush, but Prongs is a lightweight, and he giggles when he's pissed."
July 21st, 1981
Harry was not sure what Hermione had said to Sirius, but he was grateful that she had. Long after his mother, Remus, and Hermione had all retired to bed, Harry and Sirius—later joined in by his father—stayed up most of the night sipping firewhisky and sharing stories about Hogwarts.
Some of the stories he had already heard back when he was just a fourth or fifth year, swapping letters with Sirius or just trying to take advantage of what little time the holidays offered. Others were brand new, refreshing and updating Harry's previous perceptions of his godfather and parents.
He learnt how his father, despite being known for his prankster ways, took over Remus's prefect duties in fifth year when the full moon nights—and recovery—became a problem.
Harry had always suspected that Sirius wanted to be an Auror with the way he often talked about Dark wizards, but apparently while at Hogwarts, Sirius dreamt of convincing Aberforth to sell him the Hog's Head so that he could spend his days mingling with people and be able to see Hogwarts from his bedroom window.
The biggest shocker had come when Harry discovered that not only had his father not been smitten with his mother since first year, she and Sirius had actually dated prior to James "pulling his head from his arse." While Harry did not want to reveal too much about what he already knew from what he had seen in Snape's memories, he figured he could place the fight by the lake sometime after his mother and Sirius's short-lived relationship ended and his father's interest in her became more genuine and less of a pestering nature.
While some revelations were awkward or a bit troubling, Harry was grateful to finally be able to see the more human side of his parents, rather than the sensationalised stories that others had told him. They were far from perfect angels, which is what he had come to believe after hearing nothing but good about them from everyone—except, of course, from Snape.
Despite being the last to go to bed, the three men were up at dawn, smiling over cups of coffee.
Apparently, Harry's parents took turns cooking, so James set to work in front of the cupboards, pulling down ingredients for what looked like scones. Harry offered to help but was brushed off.
Sirius snickered under his breath and mentioned that, thanks to Lily's pickiness when it came to brewing, James would get flustered when putting together any recipe unless he was left to his own devices.
"Is that baking powder or bicarbonate?" Lily asked as she entered the kitchen with a freshly woken child in her arms.
James flicked a bit of flour in her hair and muttered, "Bugger off."
Sirius choked on a mouthful of coffee when Harry burst out laughing.
"They're not going to rise if—" Lily began saying, but James turned and stuck a dollop of wet dough in her mouth to stop her from talking. Gagging and spitting it in the bin, she hissed, "You're so disgusting. Prat." Despite being annoyed, she turned her cheek for a kiss, and James smiled affectionately at her, bestowing a peck to the apple of her cheek and then to the top of little Harry's head.
When Hermione and Remus arrived together a while later—thankfully looking a little less dishevelled than the previous morning, as far as Harry was concerned—the table was magically expanded to seat everyone. Savouring his breakfast, Harry also feasted on the happiness he felt around the table. Only one thing would make it better, and that made his mood drop quite suddenly.
"He'll come to us," Hermione whispered, clearly aware of where Harry's mind had gone. "We have to trust what he said in the Patronus. You know if we go in charging, it could just put him in danger."
The thought of storming Hogwarts in search of Draco had popped into Harry's thoughts, if he were being honest with himself. The idea that Draco could be in danger made his stomach feel like he had swallowed Draught of Living Death but was somehow still awake through its effects.
"We have to wait for him to show up or contact us."
Harry nodded and squeezed Hermione's hand in thanks.
"Talking about your mate, are you?" Sirius asked, wiping his mouth on his napkin to rid his short beard of any crumbs. "When's he due?"
Shaking his head, Harry shrugged. "Not sure."
"Is there anything we can do?" Lily asked, looking concerned.
"No," Hermione said. "We just have to wait for him to come here."
"Speaking of missing people," Sirius said as he put a hand on Harry's shoulder, looking eager to change the subject in order to lighten the mood, "where's Wormtail?"
Unable to stop himself, Harry stiffened at the name.
Since his arrival, his parents had only ever referred to Peter Pettigrew by his actual name. Hearing the nickname bestowed upon the man by his friends caused Harry to hear it in his memories—but instead of spoken kindly from a friend, Harry heard it in Voldemort's high-pitched voice.
A flash of a memory entered his mind followed by "Kill the spare." Harry remembered the pain of Pettigrew cutting into his arm, and he jerked violently away from Sirius on instinct, covering the arm where he still bore the scar from that night in Little Hangleton.
"What's wrong?" James demanded, looking at Hermione with worried eyes.
Gently placing her hand on top of Harry's clenched fist, Hermione whispered, "We have to tell them."
Slowly nodding, Harry slipped his hand beneath the table to reach into his pocket. Removing his wand, he kept as relaxed as possible so as not to frighten anyone. With a simple flick, the dishes began to pile up and float toward the sink.
"Maybe it's time for little Harry to have a kip?" Hermione suggested.
Lily furrowed her brows surely thinking that it was too soon and little Harry would likely make a fuss, but she cast a glance between Harry and James and then nodded her head. "All right. I'll come right back down."
The moment Harry could hear his mother's footsteps through the floor above his head, he flicked his wand at Sirius and cast, "Incarcerous!"
James jumped up from his chair and drew his wand. However, not wanting to aim it at his own son, let it point between Harry and Sirius instead. "Harry!"
"What the fuck?" Sirius snapped, trying to move from the ropes that magically appeared from the end of Harry's wand, binding him tightly.
Hermione stood, looking only mildly sympathetic. "Don't fight it or he'll be forced to stun you."
Remus looked panicked as though he was not sure whose side to be on. "What's going on? You said we could trust him."
"We can trust Sirius with our lives," Harry muttered, feeling absolutely horrible for needing to bind his godfather. "Unfortunately, he's proven on multiple occasions that he can't be trusted with his own."
"Lock down all the wards," Hermione told Lily when she entered, staring at a bound Sirius with wide green eyes. "We're not under attack, but we have things to say, and you're not going to like them. The last time Sirius found out about the information we're about to tell you, innocent people died, and he ended up being framed for their murders."
Sirius stopped struggling, his face growing pale as he turned his attention to Hermione. "I'm not—Who framed me?"
Instead of answering his question, Harry said, "You were in Azkaban for twelve years."
In shock and horror over the reveal, James dropped his wand and fell into the seat beside Sirius. He put an arm around his best friend's shoulders as though someone was threatening to take Sirius away to Azkaban right then and he was ready to hold on tight and keep him there.
Remus moved to stand protectively behind them both, his wand gripped tightly in hand.
"Azkaban," Sirius muttered, looking like a sliver of the man Harry had known—scared, broken, lost. "I won't fight. I'll . . . I'll stay where I am."
Lily turned her attention on Harry and asked the question she and the three Marauders were clearly all thinking, "Where's Peter?"
Sirius had broken his promise when they told him.
Harry's Incarcerous Spell, however, was top notch.
The man fought like hell and even shifted into Padfoot in an attempt to break the ropes. All that had done was dislocate his shoulder and eventually exhaust him. Once Sirius was unconscious due to magical depletion and pain, Harry released the spell. Lily took over monitoring his health and security, casting a series of Healing Spells to fix his shoulder as well as charms to stop him from leaving the house in a fit.
James left the room silently and went upstairs. Worried, Harry followed after him.
Turning her focus away from Sirius and Lily—who was silently wiping angry tears from her cheeks—Hermione searched for Remus. She found him in the living room, sitting on the sofa with his head in his hands. Settling in slowly beside him, she placed a hand on his leg and leant against his side, hoping to offer him what comfort she could.
"Are you certain?"
Slowly, she nodded. "He confessed right in front of us. He sounded half mad. But then, I suppose living as a rat for twelve or so years without reprieve could do that to a man. You and Sirius tried to kill him."
He looked up, his wet green eyes meeting her stare. "We what?"
"Harry stopped you. But . . . he got away." She refused to tell Remus the circumstances of Pettigrew's escape. "He found Voldemort and is the reason that the war started again. It was almost peaceful for a time I suppose," she muttered, thinking of three-headed dogs, and trolls, and basilisks. "But once Pettigrew helped Voldemort return, we were at war. He almost killed Harry so . . . so many times. And Pettigrew . . . He murdered a schoolmate of ours. Just another boy who was in the wrong place at the wrong time."
It broke her heart to tell Remus, but she wanted to make certain that there was no question about whether or not Pettigrew could be trusted. He was a murderer. He killed twelve Muggles in order to frame Sirius. Harry saw with his own eyes that Pettigrew killed Cedric.
"He's our . . . He was my . . ."
"I'm so sorry, Remus. We didn't want to tell you, but you had to know. He has to be stopped, but we can't do it in a way that lets Voldemort know we're onto him. Which means that we need Pettigrew to keep thinking that he's getting away with this. You can't let him know that you suspect he's a Death Eater. It's why we didn't want James to owl both Sirius and Pettigrew."
"He won't go back to sleep," James muttered as he carried the baby back down the stairs, looking as though he had just given up a night of sleep due to a fussing child rather than someone who had just been delivered a blow to his life. Handing the baby to Lily as she stood up to meet him at the foot of the stairs, he said nothing more to anyone else as he side-stepped her to make his way into the kitchen.
Lily frowned, adjusted the baby on her hip, and looked up as Harry came down the stairs slowly.
"He was just sitting on the floor near the crib," he said quietly, casting a look of concern at Hermione. "Did we do the right thing?"
"Yes," Remus answered. "If we're going to fight, we need to know everything about our enemies. Including . . . Including who they are."
"I still can't believe it," Lily whispered, pressing her lips against her baby's forehead and sighing. She did not even make a fuss when his tiny hand clutched a fistful of her hair and yanked hard.
Breaking the silent tension, James walked back into the living room, picking up random objects as though he were cleaning. He was clearly trying to distract from the situation, however, as he ended up just placing things from one table onto a bookshelf, or from the bookshelf onto the window sill, keeping his hands busy. "I don't want to hear this."
Sirius stormed in behind him, still looking depleted. His face was still pale; he looked like he was recovering from the flu and was in strong need of a Pepper-Up Potion. "You need to think clearly, mate. He betrayed us. James, he got you and Lily killed!"
"Sirius!" Lily hissed, using a hand to gently cover little Harry's ears.
James spun around and pointed at Sirius. "No, he didn't. We're alive. That hasn't happened yet."
Harry stepped between his father and godfather, holding his hands out to James in supplication. "It will if we don't stop him."
James glanced around the room, staring at everyone as though he were the only sane person there. When even Remus turned his eyes downcast, he let out a sad, disbelieving laugh. "Where's the limit? If you had travelled back in time further than you had, how old would Peter need to be to be held accountable for things he hasn't yet done?"
"Dad—" Harry began, looking torn.
"Fifteen?" James asked. "When Peter had detention for a whole month after breaking the nose of a seventh year who called Sirius a blood-traitor? How about thirteen when he nearly killed himself trying to figure out how to become an Animagus so that Remus didn't have to be alone during the full moon? Did you even know that it was Peter's idea to begin with?"
Remus slumped forward, putting his head back in his hands, and Hermione sighed, rubbing his back. She felt for James, truly, she did. If someone told her that Ron or Ginny or Neville or even Luna would ever betray them . . . It was unthinkable. She had always trusted her friends with her life—with Harry's life. Though it had taken a while for them both to come around to the idea, even she and Draco had developed a close bond and trusting friendship. Regardless of the Dark Mark that was still permanently etched into the man's skin, Hermione would be devastated if he were to turn on her and Harry.
"How about when Peter was eleven? When he was scared of the dark and lonely because he didn't have any friends yet? Would you lot have smothered him in his pram as an infant?"
Lily tucked little Harry in closer to her chest even as he squirmed in her grip, awkwardly reaching out for Sirius.
Hermione's mouth fell open as though she meant to answer, but no words came out. She honestly did not know what she would have said.
Harry took his father by the shoulders, standing toe-to-toe with the man. They looked so similar, but in that moment, Harry looked years older. He was aged by war and death and the horrors of abuse that he had grown up with. James Potter, for all that he had suffered in the past few years, was still a privileged man. Hermione saw that clearly as the mere idea that a friend would betray him, would get his family killed, rocked the very foundation of friendship and trust that James built his life on.
"Dad . . . I know how you feel, but Peter Pettigrew is a Death Eater."
"Why?"
"What?" Sirius asked incredulously.
"If Peter's a Death Eater like they say," James said, turning to Sirius. "Why did he become one? No one just up and joins the Death Eaters for the hell of it. Peter's never before shown any signs that he believes in the tripe that Voldemort preaches about blood prejudice. Sirius, Peter's godfather was a Muggle-born that was killed by Death Eaters. Peter loves Lily. So tell me. What was his reason?"
Sirius's mouth fell open, but he was left speechless.
Harry tried to continue, "Dad, he betrayed—"
"But why?"
Shrugging, Harry threw his hands up. "He was just . . . afraid. Afraid of Voldemort."
Hermione nodded silently, remembering the look on Pettigrew's face when Sirius and Remus confronted him in the Shrieking Shack. He looked haggard. He looked broken and insane. He looked terrified. From what Ron and Harry later told her about everything that happened at Malfoy Manor, Peter Pettigrew died afraid.
"We're all afraid of Voldemort," Lily whispered thoughtfully as she cradled her small son to her chest. The shouting and tension in the room was likely palpable to even the little boy, who began to fuss whenever James spoke. "Why Peter? Why was Peter singled out?"
Sirius stared at her with a look of disbelief. "Lily, not you too."
"He's your friend as well," she said defensively. "Sirius, he was at our wedding. He looks after Harry when you're not here. I'm not saying I want him around knowing what he has or will do, but I am saying that I agree with James. We need to know why. If Voldemort got to Peter, he could get to any of us. He's already tried with James and me on three separate occasions. Not everyone has always had backup, and we can't all fight the Imperius Curse."
James let out a sigh of relief.
Sirius threw his hands up in frustration as he walked away, shouting, "This is bollocks!"
"Get over it," James said tersely.
"Why?" Sirius yelled.
"Because if Harry had shown up and told me that it was you who betrayed me, I would be giving you the same chance to explain yourself."
Looking horrified and offended and just a little bit sick, Sirius choked out, "I would never—"
"And until this moment," James cut him off in a tone of finality, "I thought the same of Peter."
"What do you want us to do, Prongs?" Remus quietly asked from the sofa.
Hermione pulled her hand away, honestly shocked that they were considering anything but believing Peter to be the traitor that she and Harry knew him to be. She shared a look with her best friend, who wore an expression of guilt and worry. Worse than that, he looked doubtful.
"Harry?"
"I don't know, Hermione. He wouldn't be the first to . . ." Harry trailed off, and Hermione knew he was thinking of Snape and Draco, men who were Death Eaters and had turned away from their Dark Marks to fight on the right side of the war. Hell, even Lucius Malfoy did the right thing in the end, and it had cost the man his life.
"That's different," she said. "We don't know that Pettigrew would—"
"Maybe Dad's right. Maybe that's just it. What if we don't know?"
James and Lily both looked relieved but concerned. Sirius looked like he was ready to start throwing things. Hermione glanced at Remus, whose lips were pinched tight as he anxiously picked at one of the scars on his arm—a nervous habit, she figured.
She thought of Peter Pettigrew and the way he had begged for his life—for her help—in the Shrieking Shack before vanishing and leaving them all at the mercy of a fully transformed Moony. She felt the growing sound of her own wolf in the back of her mind. Her magic reacted on instinct, making her want to reach out for Remus, but it also turned her protectively toward Harry—both the young and the older—and a deep anger welled inside of her chest, preceded by a growl.
"Contact him, brew Veritaserum, and get him here," she said as she stood, needing to move in order to redistribute the agitated magic in her veins. "We'll question him and get the truth no matter what. But . . ." She sent a look at James first. "If he draws his wand on any of you, I'll kill him myself."
Looking torn, James nodded.