HARRY POTTER
AND THE DEATH EATER MENACE

Harry Potter and all associated characters and situations are the property of J.K. Rowling. I make no claim to ownership.

CHAPTER 16: Feasts, Electives and Student Organizations (pt 2)

2 September 1993
5:00 p.m.

As the Third Year Gryffindors entered the foyer to the castle after their adventure with Hagrid's hippogriffs, they were met by a scowling Malachi Sturgeon and his hideous cat (who apparently went by the name of Mr. Crookshanks), both of whom seemed mortally offended by the amount of mud they were tracking into the building.

"Just look at all this filth!" the man roared in a fury. "Vandals, the lot of you!" As the various Gryffindors mumbled their apologies, the caretaker shook his head and then pointed at Jim. "You, boy! Come with me!" And with that, Sturgeon turned and stormed off without waiting for Jim's response. The Boy-Who-Lived blinked in confusion before turning to his friends with a shrug and then heading after the caretaker.

Moments later, he followed the man into the cramped office that had previously belonged to Argus Filch. To Jim's surprise, it was even messier than when Filch had occupied it, mainly because a large cabinet that bore the label "Confiscated and Extremely Dangerous" had been cleaned out, its contents spread out across every work surface as if Sturgeon had been searching for some particular bit of contraband.

"Snot-nosed little hellions!" the man snapped as he gently dropped his cat down to the floor before turning back towards Jim with a sneer. "Why back in my day, detentions would have been spent hanging in the dungeons by your thumbs!"

Jim stared at the strange man for a few seconds before speaking. "Begging your pardon, Mr. Sturgeon, sir, but when exactly did you go to Hogwarts if they were still torturing the students? Because Mr. Filch's complaints to the contrary, I'm pretty sure they stopped hanging students by their thumbs quite a long time ago."

Sturgeon's face twisted into a snarl of rage ... before he suddenly lost his composure and burst into laughter. "Yes, alright, I suppose that was a bit over the top. I thought it best to adopt an attitude similar to my predecessor's – the better to make students wish to avoid me so they wouldn't take too much interest in our activities – but honestly, it's a struggle to keep a straight face while doing an Argus Filch impersonation."

Jim blinked in confusion. "Our ... activities?"

The other man tilted his head as if intrigued by Jim's response. "You really have no idea who I am, do you?"

"I know you're the new caretaker," he said cautiously. "Should I know you from anywhere else?"

"Extraordinary," the man said with some degree of amazement. "Simply extraordinary."

Before Jim could say any more, Sturgeon swiftly reached into the inner pocket of his shabby coat and pulled out a folded sheet of paper which he handed over to the boy. With some hesitation, Jim unfolded the paper and read the words written on it. Then, he looked back and forth between the paper and the man in front of him in confusion before his face finally lit up with recognition and delight.

"Bloody hell!" he exclaimed with a laugh. The caretaker made a sour face and clucked his tongue at the outburst.

"Language, Jim," chided Remus Lupin.

Meanwhile, back in the Great Hall, Ron had taken a seat next to Hermione, though he had saved a seat on his other side for Jim (and had practically growled at a Firstie who tried to claim it only to back away fearfully).

"I hope Jim's okay with that new caretaker," he said. "Guy's as creepy as Old Filchy but not half as old and worn down."

"I'm sure Jim is perfectly safe with Mr. Sturgeon," Hermione said confidently as she picked up a pitcher of pumpkin juice. But then, she paused for a moment and stared at the pitcher for several seconds intently before putting it back. "On second thought, I think I'll stick with water," she said with a frown.

Ron nodded and handed her a nearby water jug while he thought about how to proceed.

"So," he finally said, "will you be doing your study group thing again this year?"

"Hmm? I'm not sure. If I do, it won't be as intensive as it has the last two years. I've got a very heavy course load."

Ron thought that was an understatement – according to the rumor mill, Hermione Granger was taking every elective. He had assumed that required some sort of time travel magic until Percy had said that (a) time travel was impossible and (b) both he and Bill had done the same thing as Third Years. It was doable but exhausting, and Percy had described it as being worse than his Fifth Year OWL preparations.

"Well, see, the thing is," Ron stammered nervously, "I was kinda hoping that maybe I could join your group this year."

"I thought you were already in a study group with Jim and Lavender Brown."

"Actually, that stopped last year after that whole Heir of Slytherin rubbish. Lavender's family made her stop talking to Jim. It was ... unpleasant." Ron grimaced. "Also, she kinda got mad at me for asking to copy off her a few times."

Hermione sniffed delicately. "Well, I hope you're not planning to copy off me," she said in a lecturing tone. "The point of an education is to learn to do your own work."

"I know, I know! And I wouldn't do that. I know education is important."

She smiled and shook her head. "Is that why you're taking Divination and Care of Magical Creatures? The two easiest O's that Hogwarts offers?"

"Yes! I mean ... No!" Ron exclaimed with embarrassment. "That is ..." He paused to look around to see if anyone was listening before leaning towards Hermione.

"I want to be a healer," he whispered.

Hermione opened her mouth to respond but then paused in confusion. "I ... you ... What?"

Ron swallowed nervously. "I want to be a healer someday. That means interning with Madam Pomfrey after OWLS and then getting an apprenticeship at St. Mungo's after I graduate. I'm taking easy electives because stuff like Ancient Runes and Arithmancy won't help me with either of those, but I absolutely have to get O's on my OWLS for Potions, Charms, and Herbology to even have a chance."

Hermione stared at Ron for several seconds almost as if she'd never seen him before. "Ron ... I had no idea." She thought for a moment and then nodded her head. "Alright, I still don't know if I'm working with a study group, but ... if you need extra help, I can tutor you. I'll just find some extra time somewhere." Her expression turned stern. "But no copying off my papers!"

Ron grinned. "Sure thing."

Hermione continued to study Ron for several seconds as if considering options. "I'll tell you what though. In exchange for tutoring, would you be willing to do something for me?"

"Name it."

"Well, you see, I'm starting this club ..."

"What sort of club?" Neville asked. "I know Hermione's starting a group of some kind..."

"This one's different," Lavender said. "In some ways, quite the opposite."

Oliver Wood jumped in. "Ya see, after that business on the Express platform yesterday, some of us were thinking that the Muggleborns and Halfblood students got bent out of shape over No-Name because they weren't raised in our culture and don't really understand it. So some of us got together and decided that maybe we need a club of our own so that we can teach one another about our various family traditions and stuff like that. That way, maybe we'd be better able to explain how things work in the wizard world to those raised outside it."

"So ... you want to start a Pureblood club?" Neville inquired cautiously. "Isn't there a bad history around that idea?"

"No!" Lavender exclaimed almost offended. "Nothing bigoted or gross like that. This is all just about celebrating our own heritage and shared history and stuff. Nothing ... Death Eatery."

Neville opened his mouth to ask whether "Death Eatery" was actually proper English, but then, over Lavender's shoulder, he happened to notice Theo sitting alone at the Slytherin table. His mouth slapped shut into an annoyed grimace.

"I'll think about it," he finally said.

In the Caretaker's Office...

Jim and Remus were having an enjoyable meal to themselves (delivered by house elves), and the boy was still marveling at how Remus had concealed his true identity.

"I just can't believe that the Headmaster hid your real name behind a Fidelius!" he said while looking down once more at the scrap of paper that said Malachi Sturgeon is actually the werewolf Remus Lupin. "I mean, I could see you and everything, but I just couldn't make the connection."

"Honestly, I can hardly believe it myself," Remus replied. "I was, of course, aware of the Fidelius, though I was abroad when your parents used it to make Sirius their Secret Keeper. But I was shocked when Professor Dumbledore explained that he could use it to conceal identities and other secrets. While it's in place and he remains my Secret Keeper, no one will recognize me as Remus Lupin, and no one will guess that Malachi Sturgeon is a werewolf no matter how many times I miss work for the full moon. Which I suspect will make dealing with Professor Snape much easier for us both."

"It's kinda creepy though," Jim said with a shudder. "If you can conceal that sort of information so easily with a Fidelius, a dark wizard could cause all sorts of problems with it."

"True, but the Headmaster assured me that very few wizards could cast a Fidelius at all and only a handful of people in the world could alter it for secrets other than hidden locations. The spell is also limited in that a person can be Secret Keeper for one secret at a time, a person can only have one Secret to be Kept at a time, and the person who cast the spell can only maintain one iteration of it at a time. So I feel relatively confident that we need not fear dark wizards abusing this Charm any time soon."

Jim nodded and changed the subject. "So you've told me – or shown me, I guess – your secret. When are you going to tell Harry? And Ron too, I hope, but I know you wanted to reconnect with Harry."

Remus looked away. "I ... will. But I'd like to get to know him first." He sighed. "Frankly, I'm a bit worried that he might think poorly of me for leaving Britain while he was left with..."

"He won't," Jim interrupted confidently. "He'll understand about what happened. About what Mum and Dad ... well, you know." He looked at Remus cautiously. "Are you planning on telling Mum you're here? I won't be surprised if you're keeping Dad in the dark, but you are working here with my mother after all."

"I haven't decided yet. To be honest, I think it might ... simplify things for now if I kept the number of people who know my secret to a minimum. You, Ron, and eventually Harry. In the meantime, we'll need to set up a schedule of Wu Xi Do lessons for you. And also animagus training if you're still bent on that. And since it will have to be a secret, we'll have to figure out some system for getting you detentions that can be served with me."

Jim laughed. "No fear. I've never had much trouble getting detentions in the past." Then, he glanced over to the empty cabinet against the wall. "So what's with that? Was there something Confiscated and Extremely Dangerous in particular you were looking for?"

Remus shrugged wistfully. "Just an idle fancy. There was something that I helped make that I was rather proud of that Filch took from your father in 1976. It was foolish to think Filch had actually held onto it all these years. I imagine he destroyed it after we graduated."

"Oh? What was it?"

The Slytherin table in the Great Hall ...

While going over some Quidditch plays with Adrian Pucey, Harry happened to glance down towards the "Junior Death Eater" end of the table in time to make eye contact with Gregory Goyle, and the boy quickly mouthed "can we talk?" in an unfortunately obvious manner that Harry hoped no one else noticed. He responded with a discrete nod and then ignored Goyle completely for the rest of dinner. Afterwards, he managed to catch the other boy away from Crabbe and the rest of their circle and pull him into an empty classroom, which Harry promptly sealed off with several privacy spells.

"We really need to work on your subtlety, Greg," Harry finally said.

Goyle ignored the dig. "You promised that if I spied for you, you'd help save Amy from a forced marriage. Have you gotten anywhere?"

"Well, first of all, you haven't actually done much in the way of spying for quite a while since Draco has transferred schools. However, I have promised to do everything I can for Amy, and I will. I have ... plans in place for dealing with that, but I'm not in an position to put them into action right this moment. I was under the impression we had until next summer. Has something changed?"

Greg looked dismayed. "No, at least not about the date. Lord Nott wants to wait until after she turns thirteen next June. I guess he thinks that will make it less ... gross, I suppose, if she's officially a teenager. But he wants to meet her next month. My father said that on Halloween, the day of the first Hogsmeade visit, he'll get permission for her to come even though she's a Second Year. I'm to escort her to the Three Broomsticks so that Nott, Amy and my family can all have lunch together and he and Amy can ... get to know each other."

Goyle shuddered at that, while Harry made a face and once again renewed his personal vow to destroy Tiberius Nott someday.

"So long as it's just lunch, we'll get through it. I'll be in Hogsmeade and stay near the Three Broomsticks. If he tries anything more than a simple lunch date, I'll ... well, I'll think of something. Otherwise, we stick to the original plan."

"Yeah," Goyle said urgently, "but what is the original plan. You haven't told me anything about what you're going to do."

"No, Greg, and I don't plan to. I'm sorry, but you're just going to have to trust me."

The other boy was visibly unhappy, but he nodded his acceptance.

Later, another meeting took place as Harry finally introduced the Seventh Year prefects, Titus Mitchell and Selena Harper, to the Prince's Lair and the books and other items it contained. Also present were Blaise and Theo, the later of whom caused a bit of controversy by his presence. Neither prefect was from a family affected by the Ultimate Sanction – Mitchell was a Half-blood and Harper a Pureblood, but neither of their families had any oath bonds to either the Wizengamot or any of its member families. Still, both of them noted that the clear majority of Slytherins would be affected, and neither of them relished becoming tainted by the Sanction's side effects while on the cusp of graduating. After some discussion, it was agreed that the two prefects would show public disdain for Theo when among other Slytherins but would also punish house members who bullied him because of "strict orders from Snape and Dumbledore."

As Serena and Titus were leaving, Harry spoke up. "I almost forgot. The password to get in and out of the Lair is fierce blue puppy."

The two 7th Years looked at each other in confusion. "What is the significance of that phrase?" Mitchell asked.

"There isn't any. I just picked three random words from the dictionary. But last year, I tried to be clever with the password, and it bit me. So this year, I'm trying to be more sensible about security."

After the prefects' departure, Blaise turned to Harry. "Okay, now that they're gone, we can get to something that we should have talked about before now, but I'd been giving you the chance to be the one to bring it up. What do you know about the Azkaban breakout?"

Harry looked at him blandly. "What makes you think I know anything about the Azkaban breakout?"

"Well, you haven't been brainstorming with us ever since the breakout occurred trying to figure out who was behind it or what their goal is. Nor have you actually shown any particular concern about it. And your father is Chief Auror and your brother is the Boy-Who-Lived, so I'm sure you know more than anyone outside the government."

Harry made a face. "Speaking purely hypothetically, if I did know anything about it, I couldn't share it with either of you."

"Why?" asked Theo. "Oaths or something?"

"Or something," Harry answered vaguely.

Blaise stared at him aghast. "Oh for the love of ... You're involved! You're actually involved personally in the escape of the worst five Death Eaters in Azkaban!"

"Technically," thought Harry, "it was only the worst four." Of course, he also knew that Blaise had never credited Harry's suspicion that Sirius Black might be innocent.

"Blaise, Theo," he finally said, "you have both put a lot of trust in me so far. I'm going to ask you to trust me now that there is nothing I can say to you about the Azkaban breakout and so stop asking me questions about the topic."

It was indeed a testament to the two boys' faith in Harry Potter that they grudgingly agreed to his request, though Theo did have one bleak warning.

"But speaking purely hypothetically, Harry, if you did have something to do with the breakout, don't ever get caught. Or else people might actually hate you worse than me!"

Meanwhile, in Gryffindor Tower, Hermione was grudgingly reviewing a list of the seventeen things that Lavender Brown most dreaded. The girl had stopped at seventeen because she honestly couldn't think of any more things she might be dreading, and the seventeenth item was, in fact, "something I haven't thought of that I won't remember until October 16th when it's too late." Reviewing the list, Hermione reviewed each individual dread, asked a few questions for clarification, and then jotted down some notes for things she thought Lavender could perhaps do to prevent anything bad from happening.

A few of them, she simply marked through with a quill. When Lavender asked why, she said "I understand why you might be dreading your OWLS and NEWTS, but even if you do fail them, you won't find out about it for years to come, so that's not something that can happen by the 16th of October," a logical point that Lavender accepted. Finally, Hermione got to the penultimate item – Number 16: Binky.

"And what, pray tell, is a Binky?" Hermione inquired while trying to keep any hint of disdain from her voice.

"Binky is my new pet rabbit. My parents got him for me this summer, but they wouldn't let me bring it to Hogwarts. He's still young and small, and my stupid little brother Elwood keeps taking him out of his hutch to play with him and forgetting to latch it properly when he puts him back. Binky might get out some day and run off or get eaten by an animal."

Hermione stared at the other girl. "And you would describe this possibility as something you ... dread?"

Lavender shrugged. "Maybe, I guess."

The other girl sighed. "Alright then, I assume the Browns have house elves. So write home and ask your parents to order a house elf to keep an extra eye on Binky especially when Elwood is playing with him." And she wrote that instruction on the parchment, along with instructions for avoiding Dementors, gold-digging boys after her inheritance, Dragonpox, acne, and falling off the school's moving stairs. She simply marked through several other "dreads" such as You-Know-Who returning, Grindelwald returning, and Lavender flunking all her exams as things that couldn't possibly be averted or even be likely to happen before the deadline.

"So what do you think is the most likely danger for Lavender?" Parvati asked. Hermione looked over the list again.

"Honestly, none of them. Professor Trelawney said 'that thing you are dreading will happen on October 16th." I think it's a self-fulling prophecy. She created an expectation that something you dread will happen on that day, but the way the prophecy was worded, any unfortunate thing that happens will technically satisfy it. The thing you really dread most right now, Lavender, is hearing bad news on October 16th in fulfillment of prophecy, and it really won't matter what it is so long as you choose to view it as dreadful."

The other to girls stared at Hermione in silent amazement. "Wow, Hermione," Lavender said in a hushed voice. "You're so ... deep." Beside her, Parvati nodded her head furiously in agreement.

Hermione shrugged almost helplessly. "... thanks?"

By midnight, everyone in Slytherin House was in bed and (for the most part) asleep. Alone in his room, Harry Potter wasted five fruitless minutes trying to summon his wand from its spot on his dresser before giving up. In the room next door, Theo No-Name spent a few rather more productive minutes setting up wards on his door to keep out intruders, something that was now a part of his daily routine. And in the room on the other side of Harry's, Blaise Zabini drafted a quick and completely innocuous letter to his mother about the events of his first day back before flipping the parchment over to write a second letter on the backside with invisible ink.

In another part of the dungeon, six First Year girls were sharing a room together. Four of them tossed and turned all night, their dreams troubled by a persistent feeling of terrible unease. The other two, Flora and Hestia Carrow, slept quite well, if in a peculiar manner. For neither girl slept with her eyes closed. Instead, they both lay flat on their backs as if dead to the world, their sightless unblinking eyes staring out into the darkness that surrounded them. They slept, and in their dreams, they made plans.

3 September 1993
Muggle Studies

Professor Lily Potter's Muggle Studies class was during the first period of the day and required students to rise and take breakfast early. Historically, the early time was considered one reason for the class's unpopularity. Other equally valid reasons included widespread anti-Muggle bigotry and also how embarrassingly out-of-date the subject matter had been under the prior instructor (who had finally been dismissed in 1991 after admitting to having no idea what an automobile was). Despite the early start time, Professor Potter was quite pleased with the size of this year's class and also somewhat surprised that it actually included at least two children of former Death Eaters. Neither Harry nor Jim was taking her class, of course. She had informed Jim the previous year that, no, he could not take a class under his own mother just to get an easy A. Harry, on the other hand, had never expressed the slightest interest in Muggle Studies, a fact that she fought to view as completely sensible for a Muggle-raised student, no matter how insistently a voice in the back of her head suggested that it wasn't the class that turned him away but the teacher.

After checking roll, she went around the room, asking various students what they hoped to get out of the class.

Daphne Greengrass said that her family's businesses occasionally required them to interact with Muggles, and his parents expected all their children to be able to do so without drawing attention to themselves.

Ernie MacMillan said much the same.

Susan Bones said that she'd been embarrassed in the past by her ignorance about basic Muggle facts and wanted to learn more about them.

Gregory Goyle grudgingly said that his father was making him take the class. It seems a Muggle had once nearly killed him with "a ruffle" because he didn't know what it was at first. Lily assumed he'd meant "rifle" but let the mistake pass for the moment. It would do no good to embarrass a Pureblood with Goyle's background on the first day, least of all by inquiring under what circumstances Goyle Sr. had been shot at by an armed Muggle.

Hermione Granger, the only Muggleborn in the room other than Lily herself, hesitated before saying simply that she thought it would be fascinating to see what wizards actually thought about Muggles. For a moment, Lily wondered if she detected a hint of bitterness from the girl who so many people had compared to her at the same age, but when she studied Hermione's face, she saw only bland attentiveness.

And so it went, until Lily finally asked Theo No-Name, who was sitting on the back row by himself, and the boy said flatly "because I might end up living among them for the rest of my life," which caused a brief flutter of tension to pass over the room.

The introductions over, Lily began her lecture. "Let's start today with the most obvious question. Miss Bones, can you tell us what exactly a Muggle is?"

Susan swallowed a bit nervously at being picked out first. "Well, I suppose I'd say a Muggle was someone with no magic?"

"Um-hm," Lily replied thoughtfully. "So how does that definition apply to squibs?"

Susan hesitated. "Well ... squibs can't cast spells or work wands, but they do have some magic."

"True to a point," the teacher said. "A first generation squib can usually brew a basic potion successfully and operate most enchanted objects, though not all of them can. Such abilities are incredibly rare among second-generation squibs and unheard of among anyone in later generations. And yet, a squib is still capable of passing on a magical inheritance and siring a wizarding child, whether directly or generations later. Of course, there is little reliable evidence about how easily a squib of any generation can sire a wizarding child..."

"In large part because our government has banned such research for centuries," Lily thought to herself, "but since I don't want to get fired or worse, I'll pass over that."

"... but there have been documented cases of supposed Muggleborns who have successfully traced their lineage back to a squib who had been born into a wizarding family as much as seven generations before."

Out of the entire class, Hermione was the only one not shocked by the teacher's words, as she had tracked her own genealogy back to a wizarding ancestor just three generations removed (for all the good it did her), but her classmates all looked at one another in surprise. She wondered how many of her Pureblooded classmates would still cling to blood supremacy after a year of this class.

"Probably most, she thought rather cynically. "I have gotten to know them pretty well, after all."

Professor Potter continued. "But we're straying afar from the field of Muggle studies, so let me rephrase the question. Mr. MacMillan, how long do you think Muggles have existed?"

The question obviously confused the young Hufflepuff. "I've ... never really thought about it. I suppose there have always been Muggles."

"You suppose wrong, Mr. MacMillan," Lily said lightly. "There have always been people without magic, whether they were called No-Majs, Mundanes, Le Sans-Magie, Langweiligmenschen, or any number of other terms, some of which were descriptive while others were meant as insulting. But we have only called them Muggles since 1692 or so. Can you guess why, Mr. MacMillan?"

Ernie thought for a moment and then his eyes lit up. "The Statute of Secrecy!" he exclaimed.

"Quite so. In 1692, the International Statute of Secrecy went fully into effect. I'm sure you're all aware of what an important law that was and is, but what you may not fully appreciate is that it was far more than an act of multinational legislation. The Statute of Secrecy is a magical law, a monumental spell of global reach backed by the combined magic of the ICW member countries. It was powered by the raw magical energies of entire nation-states, all funneled into a spell cast cooperatively by over a hundred of the most powerful and skilled witches and wizards of the day. It is quite possibly the most powerful spell ever cast in recorded history. And the power and breadth of that spell cannot be overstated."

"Literally overnight, nearly all of the world's non-magical people simply forgot that magic and those who could work it ever existed. Please understand: before the Statute's passage, everyone knew about magic. Every king and queen in Europe had a Court Wizard as part of their retinue and likely dozens of prominent wizard-folk of noble ancestry among their courtiers. In fact, John Dee, the Court Wizard and spymaster of Queen Elizabeth I had so much influence over her government that he is credited with inventing the term "the British Empire." Military conflicts across the globe and dating back thousands of years had employed war-wizards alongside mortal soldiers ever since the Dark Lord Sargon of Akkad became the first wizard – and one of the first people – to forge an empire with himself as ruler. Throughout much of human history, every sizeable village had at least one village healer or wise man or woman who was actually a self-taught wizard or witch who lived among the non-magicals. Jewish and Christian non-magicals all knew the story of the wizard Moses and the magical duels he fought against the wizards of Egypt to win his people's freedom. And then, in the space of a single day, all of the non-magicals simply ... forgot all of it. Legends about magic endured but only as stories. Fairytales and myths that many people knew but almost no one remembered from any personal experience."

Lily's eyes lit up as she warmed to the subject. "And it wasn't just memories. A vast number of Muggle historical records were magically edited or erased to eliminate any credible information about wizard-kind. Statues and paintings of famous wizard-folk were altered so that everyone would forget the real people depicted in them. Some wizards and witches were removed from the historical record outright while others simply had their biographies altered to excise any references to wizardry – Circe, Lao-Tse, Hermes Trisgmegistus, Roger Bacon, St. Patrick, Johann Faustus, Leonardi di Vinci, and innumerable others. Parts of the Holy Bible itself that had previously discussed magic and those who worked it were edited to exclude us, and the same happened with the Torah, the Quran, the Mahabharata, the Code of Hammurabi, Magna Carta, and countless fictional and non-fictional works dating back to before the time of Homer. One of Shakespeare's plays, Love's Labours Won, was eliminated completely from the Muggle canon because it was a romantic comedy about star-crossed lovers attending Hogwarts together. If you're interested in Elizabethan-era views on magic, there's a surviving copy of that play in the Library."

"And that is when we started calling them Muggles. The term was derived from a medieval English word – mug. At the time, it meant a foolish person, specifically one who had been deceived by others. And so Muggle came to mean a non-magical person who must be tricked into disbelieving in magic. Please note the word I just used. Not someone who has been tricked or who should be tricked, but someone who must be tricked. Because as powerful and extraordinary as the Statute of Secrecy is, its power is not inviolate and its reach is not absolute. Individual Muggles can accept that magic is real if they personally observe its use. And if a sufficiently large number of Muggles ever did learn that magic existed, it is feared that the Statute itself would collapse and all the hidden evidence of our existence would be laid bare. In which case, the more than 5.5 billion Muggles in this world would instantly realize that an entire global subculture of people who could work real magic had been hiding among them invisibly for centuries. And believe me, the Muggles of 1993 are not the Muggles of 1692. They have arts and powers of their own now, and if a conflict broke out between wizards and Muggles today, there is no guarantee who would win, but either way, the entire world would be the loser."

At that, there was a snicker from one student. "Mr. Goyle? Do you have something to add?"

The boy blushed at being called out. "Sorry, Professor, but how could we lose a war against Muggles no matter how many of them there are? I mean ... they're Muggles!"

Hermione rolled her eyes at that, but she noted that while most of her Pureblooded classmates seemed to disapprove of his crudeness, none of them seemed to disagree with the content of his words. The Professor just smirked.

"And that, Mr. Goyle, is why you are here: to learn about what Muggles are, what they can do, and why they cannot be ignored or dismissed. Tell me, class, has any wizard or witch ever been to the moon?"

Most of the students laughed out loud at the suggestion, though Hermione merely smiled. She alone knew where the teacher was headed.

"That's impossible, Professor," said Ernie MacMillan. "No wizard can apparate outside the terrestrial sphere!"

"Very true, Mr. MacMillan, very true," she said. Then, she turned and waved her wand at a large scrapbook on her desk. The book flipped open, and with another wave, a particular photo was lifted up off the page and enlarged to cover the rear wall. Hermione knew the image well, but it astonished all the other students.

"This," Lily continued as she pointed at the stunning blue orb that took up most of the wall, "is the planet Earth as viewed from the surface of the moon. The gray landscape at the bottom is the lunar surface near the crater known as the Sea of Tranquility." She waved her wand again and another picture rose up to replace the first, one depicting an astronaut on the lunar surface. "This is Neil Armstrong, an American Muggle who was the first person to walk on the Moon in July of 1969. As a nine-year-old child who knew nothing of the wizarding world, I watched television coverage of the Apollo 11 landing, as did untold millions of other Muggles. The suit Armstrong wears is called a space suit, and he had to wear it at all times while on the Moon because there is no air there and he would have died almost instantly without it."

Another wand-wave. "This is a picture of the Saturn V rocket which carried Armstrong and two others more than 225,000 miles above the Earth to reach the Moon. This rocket is about 363 feet tall. Only this small piece at the top contained the three Muggles, while most of the remaining structure was comprised of the rocket assembly. Think of these rockets as large tubes filed with a highly explosive compound that hurled the ship upwards with what can best be described as a carefully controlled detonation of unimaginable force. The entire mission lasted twenty-four days but was years in the making. The project required the work of thousands of Muggles and cost the American Muggle government the equivalent of roughly 35 million galleons in today's currency. And they put forth all that effort and expense for no reason except the spirit of exploration. To do what had never been done before."

At that, Hermione nearly raised her hand to ask a question but thought better of it. As a well-read Muggleborn she knew that there were factors other than "the spirit of exploration" behind the lunar mission – namely, the Space Race and the desire of the Americans to dominate the Soviet Union which had been the first nation to put a man into orbit. But then she realized that the global conflict between the USSR and the West might be a bit much for a class of Purebloods, the most insulated of whom had assumed that Muggles were all illiterate peasants.

"If nothing else," Hermione thought to herself as she noticed how speechless her classmates were, "maybe Professor Potter will at least cure them of that illusion."

Ministry of Magic
Aurors' Office
8:45 a.m.

As he walked past the waiting room outside the Auror Department, James Potter was surprised to see a familiar face, if one not usually seen in this part of the Ministry.

"Peter!" he exclaimed in surprise. "What are you doing here?"

The solicitor held up a bundle of parchments. "Bookkeeping matters, I'm afraid. I've completed the audit of this years charity proceeds from Jim's birthday party. I need you to sign them so I can get them filed on time. I should have contacted you yesterday, but I got held up and it totally slipped my mind."

James smiled at his best friend. "Not a problem. I don't have any meetings before 10. Come on in."

With that, James led Pettigrew into the Senior Command area of the Aurors' Office, bypassing the usual security checkpoints as they went. Soon, they were in his office, where the Chief Auror (and Trustee of the Jim Potter Charitable Trust) dutifully signed every dotted line pointed out by the solicitor and then stamped them with his Lord's ring. As he did so, Peter made a point of asking innocuous but thoughtful questions, usually every time it looked like James might be tempted to stop and read something.

"So, any movement on the Death Eater investigation?" he asked.

"No. We're still pursuing all leads, but there hasn't been anything other than rumors and speculation since the breakout. We're about ready to shut down all international portkey operations that don't originate out of the Ministry Portkey Office, but it may be closing the gate after the hippogriffs are all gone. Besides, assuming they haven't fled the country already, they could still use an illegal portkey out of Thurso."

"Thurso?" Peter inquired, as if he didn't know the name well.

"It's a small fishing on the northern Scottish coast. It's the only point that lies outside the portkey warning system. Amelia has been saying for years that we ought to do something to close that security hole no matter how much it cost, just like Crouch before her and probably every other DMLE head since the founding of the Ministry."

"Would it really cost that much?"

James sighed. "I'm hardly a warding expert, but apparently it would require adjusting ley lines over an area of roughly 500 square miles at a cost of over 10% of the Ministry's annual budget. Oh, and also take about three years. We're probably just going to assign a permanent auror detail there instead – like we're not short on aurors as it is."

Peter nodded and fought to keep a frown off his face. If aurors were being assigned to Thurso, he might have to alter some of his plans.

"Any news on the escapees?" he asked to change the subject.

"Nothing I can share publicly."

Peter laughed. "Not even to your Seneschal?"

James smiled at his oldest remaining friend. "Sorry. If there's any news to report to the Wizengamot, you'll be the first to hear it." Then, he tilted his head and studied the other man. "Say, do you have any dinner plans? It's been a while since we've just sat and talked. Maybe we could crack a bottle of wine and reminisce about the good old Marauder days before everything went to hell."

Peter considered. "It would have to be an early dinner with not too much wine. I have a prior engagement later that evening."

"Oh?" the other man said with a saucy grin. "What's her name?"

"Get your mind out of the gutter, Potter. It's ... a business matter."

"If you say so," Potter said while wriggling his eyebrows suggestively. "The Leaky Cauldron around five? A few beers over Shepherd's Pie?"

"I look forward to it," Peter answered gamely as he shuffled the signed parchments. "But for now, I'm off to wrangle with goblin accountants for the better part of the day." He headed for the door, but James called out before he could leave.

"Peter," he said with sudden hesitation. "Thank you."

"Whatever for?" Pettigrew asked with curiosity.

"For not saying 'I told you so' after Black's escape. As I recall, if you'd had your way, Sirius would have died in an alleyway twelve years ago. You were right about him. All the way back in Sixth Year after The Prank. I should have listened to you then."

Peter stared at James with an emotionless mask. For a brief second, he wondered where they would both be today if James had indeed listened to him all those years ago.

The Gryffindor Common Room
15 November 1976, 1:00 a.m.
(14 days after The Prank)

"I cannot believe this," Peter said bitterly. "I absolutely cannot believe that you're just ... letting it go. Like it was nothing."

"It wasn't nothing, Pete," James replied. "I know it was a big deal. But it's been two weeks, and Sirius has spent every minute of it begging our forgiveness. Remus has already forgiven him. Why can't you?"

"I dunno, Prongs," the boy sneered. "Maybe because I value Remus's life more than he does himself!"

"Come on, Wormy, that's not fair," James replied without noticing the grimace Peter gave at the use of the nickname Padfoot had christened him with. "Sirius really does feel bad. And in the end, no one got hurt."

Peter glared at James only to turn away at his friend's pleading expression.

"He's a violent sadistic bully, James," the boy said in a low angry voice. "You know that, right? Remus and I have outgrown our silly Marauder pranks. You only go after Snivellus and have mostly stopped that. But your precious Padfoot still hexes every Slytherin who crosses his path, along with any Ravenclaws he deems too arrogant to suit him and every Hufflepuff who travels alone. He's a thug with a wand for all his precious Pureblood breeding."

James looked down, unwilling to deny outright Peter's accusations. "He says he's willing to change. That if we forgive him and let him back in the Marauders, he won't prank anyone else ever again. Come on, Pete. If you think that badly of him, then this is your chance to help him be better. To finally grow up. And besides, you know he wouldn't have done something like that to Snivelly and Moony if it hadn't been for that business with Marlene. You know how that must have affected his judgment. Despite everything, we're all friends, and friends forgive each other."

Peter leaned his head back to rest against the couch and closed his eyes tiredly. "Alright," he finally said. "I'll let it go. I suppose if Moony is willing to forgive him, it would be churlish of me not to as well."

James grinned and clasped Peter on the shoulder. Peter did not smile. James rose then to go and tell Sirius the news that the Marauders were back together. But before he could leave the Common Room, Peter called out.

"I do have one question though – would you have forgiven me that easily?"

James turned back to him and cocked his head in confusion. "What do you mean?"

Peter rose and walked up close to the leader of their little club, staring up into the taller boy's eyes with a cool expression. "I mean – If I had played a stupid petty trick on someone I didn't like with the possible result of seeing them either bitten by a werewolf or killed outright and the equally possible result of Walden McNair coming to Hogwarts with a big shiny axe for cutting off Moony's head ... would you have simply forgiven me after barely two weeks?"

James's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Peter! Of ... of course I would," he said unconvincingly.

"No," Peter replied grimly. "No, I'm sorry but I don't believe you. The Marauders are all friends, but only James and Sirius are best friends. I've known that since we were eleven, but I never expected it to be demonstrated so graphically. I can forgive that as easily as I can forgive what your psychopathic best mate did. But don't expect me to ever forget either of them."

And with that, Peter Pettigrew turned and walked away, leaving James Potter alone. It wasn't the first step that set Pettigrew on the path to his destiny, nor was it the last step.

But it was certainly a big step.

Now ...

Peter's blank face suddenly broke out into a cheerful grin. "Honestly, Prongs. I got all the I told you so's out of my system in 1981. If you want to thank me for anything, do it by putting an end to that miserable traitor who's after my godson."

"It will be a pleasure," James said with a smile. Peter nodded and left the office for Gringotts. He was alone in the elevator and so took the time to review the documents James had signed to make sure they were all in order. When he saw they were, he grinned again, only it was malicious instead of cheerful.

"You are so very welcome, James," he said to himself. "Mischief managed indeed."

Next: "Feasts, Electives, and Student Organizations (finale)." In which we cover all the stuff that was supposed to be in this chapter but wasn't because I forgot Muggle Studies came before Ancient Runes on the schedule I drew up.