SHAMELESS PLUG!

My first original novel, Strangers In Boston, is now available on Amazon under my pen name, T.S. Mann (get it?). It's free to Kindle Prime members and $4.99 to people who want to download the Ebook. Paperback copies are available for $12.99. Check it out, and if you like it, please leave a review. Basically, it's American Harry Potter. Except there's no school, no wands, and if you use magic improperly, it can drive you insane and possibly destroy the world. No pressure or anything.

We now return you to your regularly scheduled fanfic.

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 47: Redux (Aftermath)

28 March 1994

Harry Potter awoke from a deep and troubled sleep to find that he was no longer in his bed or even in his dorm room. Rather, he found himself lying on a cold stone floor in a most unexpected location. It was the lobby of Gringotts Bank, completely empty save for a pair of goblin janitors who were busily mopping the floors to clean up several puddles of water.

"Ah, Heir Potter! You're finally here!"

The voice came from behind him, and Harry turned around to see a goblin in more professional attire calling to him from a nearby office. The Slytherin squinted and realized that he recognized the figure.

"You're … Griphook, right? My account manager?" Harry asked cautiously. The goblin's eyebrows rose fractionally.

"You remember my name? Impressive. Most wizards are too stupid or arrogant to ever do so."

"Thanks … I think," Harry said while looking around the building nervously. He still had no idea how he'd gotten here, but he was perturbed to still be in his pajamas and, worse, without a wand.

"Why am I here, Mr. Griphook?" he asked. "For that matter, how did I get here? And also … why is the floor wet?"

"In order asked: an important meeting, a portkey concealed under your pillow, and that's not important right now."

"Ooookay. What important meeting?"

"Just step this way, Mr. Potter, and I'll explain in my office. You see, things started moving much faster than we anticipated. And the bank decided it was vital that we communicate with you before it was too late."

With that, Griphook headed back into the office with Harry following behind.

"Too late for what?"

"Too late to prevent the Dark Lord from stealing your birthright and using it to take over the entire nation."

By this point, Griphook had taken a chair behind a massive mahogany desk, and Harry sat carefully down in the chair across from it while bearing a shocked and confused expression.

"The Dark Lord? What? Voldemort is trying to … steal my inheritance or something?"

"Voldemort?! That faker? No, Mr. Potter! It's the real Dark Lord we're talking about. The greatest Dark Lord in history! And the man truly responsible for all the misfortunes to hinder you and your family since the day you were born. But this time we've got him! Now, we'll see to it that old Dumb-as-a-door finally gets what's coming to him!"

Harry blinked twice. Then, he blinked three more times. "Dumb … as-a-door. Are you perhaps referring to Albus Dumbledore?"

"SHHH!" Griphook hissed violently. "We goblins do not speak his true name, Mr. Potter. For it is said that he knows when people speak his name in ways he does not like. Knows … and takes vengeance! So, we always use other names to describe him."

"You mean like You-Know-Who?"

"Pfft! No! That would be a stupid name to use! Because what would happen if you tried to talk about the Dark Lord with someone who did not, in fact, know who you were talking about?!"

"Yeeeeeaah, I … suppose that makes sense. So instead, you call him … Dumb-as-a-door?"

Griphook nodded. "That or Bumblebore. Or Mumblecore. Or sometimes just That Miserable Old Fucker."

Harry slowly raised his hand to his face and rubbed it across his mouth while he processed all that.

"So … what exactly do you think Dumble…."

"AHHHH!"

"… sorry, Mumblecore is up to?"

"Why, he's trying to steal your birthright!" Griphook exclaimed. "We know that he's already tricked you into giving up your Potter inheritance, though we believe we can save the others."

"Mr. Griphook," Harry began somewhat irritably only to pause when a drop of water landed on his head from somewhere up above. He glanced up as he wiped his fingers through his hair, but he saw no signs of a leaky ceiling.

"Mr. Griphook, the Headmaster did not trick me into anything. And why would he even want to?"

"Because," the goblin said patiently, "he needs your assets in order to consolidate his dictatorial control over this entire country! That is why all those years ago, he Confunded your parents into sending you to live with Muggles!"

Harry's mouth opened and closed helplessly as he struggled with basic communication. "Griphook … what dictatorial control? He's the headmaster at a boarding school!"

"Ah, but he's also the Chief Warlock!"

"Which is mostly a ceremonial position!"

"And who told you that?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Well, originally, Dumble … Bumblebore did." Griphook started to rant, but Harry cut him off. "BUT! Afterwards, I looked it up, and his description was correct."

"Looked it up where?" Griphook said suspiciously.

"Uh, in the Hogwarts Library!"

"And who controls the Hogwarts Library? Huh? Who removes all books that might reveal the depths of his duplicity? CRUMBLEMORE!"

Harry stared dully. "I'd like to go home now, Mr. Griphook."

"But we haven't even gone through the list of your Lordships!"

Harry started to respond but caught himself. "Lordships? As in … plural?"

Griphook said nothing. He simply opened a file and handed Harry a long sheet of parchment. At the top were the words "Lord Potter" which had been crossed out with a line. Below that was the name of the family whose Lordship he was poised to claim very soon. Below that was written "Lord Black (upon death of Sirius Black)."

After that things got weird.

"Lord Slytherin (through Lily Potter)," the boy read aloud. "Lord Ravenclaw (through Lily Potter). Lord Gryffindor (through James Potter). Lord Hufflepuff (through right of conquest)." He looked up at the goblin in utter confusion.

"Griphook, none of the Founders had Wizengamot seats or were ever Lords or Ladies. And how the hell did I gain the Hufflepuff Lordship (which doesn't exist) through right of conquest?"

"We have learned through reliable sources that you stabbed the Cup of Hufflepuff with a basilisk fang and destroyed it," the goblin said solemnly. "That was enough."

"Destroying one of Helga Hufflepuff's heirlooms … lets me inherit a Lordship (which still doesn't exist)?! Helga Hufflepuff has living heirs - the Noble House of Smith. Zacharias Smith only mentions it every time he opens his mouth. Granted Zach Smith is a complete wanker. Justin says he keeps going on insane and horribly off-color rants about Quidditch. And that for some reason, he keeps referring to Justin as 'J-Finch.' But still, House Smith exists."

Griphook glowered at Harry's interruption. "As I was saying. I'm sure you already know that you are the Heir of Slytherin due to your inheritance from your mother," said the long-suffering goblin.

"Debatable," Harry snapped. "But go on."

"But what you likely did not know is that one of Slytherin's daughters eloped with the squib son of Rowena Ravenclaw. While both of their parents disowned their respective children for the scandal, one of the descendants of that union later married into the Muggle Evans family many generations later! As Ravenclaw's only other child died without issue, that makes you the Heir of Ravenclaw!"

"… 'kay? And Gryffindor?"

"Well, the last surviving offspring of Godric Gryffindor married into the Peverell family in the 11th century, at which point those lines merged. Later, a Peverell of that line married into House Potter, with the remainder of the House going extinct later. At that point, both the Gryffindor and Peverell Lordships were subsumed into House Potter."

"Which I'm being disinherited from on Saturday."

"EXACTLY!" Griphook yelled while banging his little fist on the table. "That's why we needed you to come here tonight! So that you could claim those Lordships before you're forced out of House Potter! That way, as the Heir of all Four Founders, you'll be able to seize control of Hogwarts itself and force Stumblewort out!"

Harry stared at the goblin (who he was now quite certain had gone mad) and then turned back to the parchment. There were even more Lordships for him to claim. A lot more. Some by obscure bloodline connections, some by "right of conquest," and some by ….

"Hang on!" Harry said angrily. "This says I get four Lordships through betrothal contracts signed years or even centuries before I was born!"

"That's perfectly valid," Griphook said calmly.

"That's bigamy!" Harry spat.

"Not for the Lord of an Ancient & Noble House, young wizard. The Inheritance Act of 1588 specifically allows for legalized harems for Lords of the Wizengamot when necessary to preserve dying or dormant Houses. Or if they just really want to. But only the males. Ladies can still only have one husband a piece."

"Why the difference between Lords and Ladies?"

The goblin shrugged. "Family values perhaps? Or maybe the Wizengamot wanted to promote ethics in gaming journalism?"

Harry sighed. "Never mind. I'm not even going to argue about harems. The Inheritance Act is where the Ultimate Sanction came from, so I'm willing to accept any amount of stupidity from it."

He looked down again at the parchment, which he noticed had gotten damp from water dropping onto it from above. Harry looked up again but could still see no signs of a leak in the room, so he returned to the parchment. There were even more Houses listed further down for which he could potentially claim a Lordship, including many that he'd never heard of. House Atreides, House Lannister, and House Belmont. House Kote, House Phligh, and House Plante.

"How many Lordships are on this list?" Harry asked.

"There are thirty-seven Houses to which you may assert a claim, Mr. Potter," said the goblin. "But you cannot claim them all, as Wizengamot law says you can only wear one Lord's Ring per digit."

"So, a maximum of ten?"

Griphook coughed in embarrassment. "Twenty-one, Mr. Potter."

"…."

"You see, like most wizards – but not most witches, of course – you have ten fingers, ten toes, and…."

"Is there a Floo around here I could use?" Harry interrupted while looking around the office for an escape route. Then, another drop of water hit him on the top of the head.

"Also, what's with the water? Do you have a burst pipe or something?"

"Moving on, Mr. Potter," the goblin said ignoring the question even as he produced yet another sheet of parchment. "We must also see to undoing the blocks that Fumblesore placed on you in your infancy that have prevented you from tapping into more than the tiniest fraction of your true power. That's why you're such a weak wizard despite your illustrious ancestry."

Harry glared at the goblin. "I'm consistently second in my year behind a certified genius. I'm an Occlumens, a natural Legilimens, a potential Metamorphmagus, and I mastered a wandless spell while falling to my death from half-a-mile up in the air."

"True," Griphook conceded. "BUT … imagine how much better you'd be doing without all those damned blocks on you!"

With that, he handed over the second parchment which Harry snatched out of his hand and began to read.

Occlumency: 50% blocked.
Legilimency: 50% blocked.
Metamorphmagery: 90% blocked.
Animagery: 100% blocked.

He looked up at the goblin in confusion. "I can't be both a Metamorphmagus and an Animagus! They're mutually exclusive gifts!"

"Mutually exclusive for most wizards," Griphook said suggestively while tapping the side of his nose with a clawed finger.

The boy glared at him even harder before returning to the list.

True Sight: 100% blocked.
Necromancy: 100% blocked.
Wu Xi Do (all styles to complete mastery): 100% blocked.

"Wu Xi Do," Harry said through gritted teeth, "is a learned skill that takes years or even decades to fully master. How can it possibly be something I was born with but that the Headmaster has … blocked?"

"Rumblewhore's powers are truly as mysterious as they are malicious. But it's true! Once we get those blocks off …."

"I'll know magical kung fu?" Harry asked sarcastically. "Will I be good enough to dodge the Killing Curse?"

"When the time comes, Mr. Potter," Griphook said portentously. "You won't need to."

Harry stared at the goblin for several seconds while waiting on him to explain that cryptic remark. Then, he realized what a waste of time that was and returned once more to the parchment.

Shadow Manipulation: 100% blocked.
Weather control: 100% blocked.
Weird invisible tentacles that grow out of your back: 100% blocked.
Preternatural Sex Appeal: 100% blocked.
Regeneration (you know, like Wolverine): 100% blocked.

"Griphook," Harry finally said angrily, even as he wiped another icy water drop off the side of his face. "Is this all just some kind of stupid joke?!"

The goblin suddenly favored Harry with a broad grin that showed off his sharp, jagged teeth, even as streams of water suddenly fell from the ceiling all around them.

"APRIL FOOLS!" he yelled in a voice that sounded less like a goblin and more like that of Theo No-Name.

With that, Harry suddenly heard the roar of a great waterfall coming from very nearby. He looked up in shock and horror as the ceiling opened and a massive flood came gushing down straight for him.

Harry sat up in his bed with a loud scream in response to the bucket of cold water that had just landed on his face.

"GAAAAH!"

Theo No-Name, his fellow Slytherin and the person currently holding the bucket, laughed merrily.

"I always love it when you scream like that," he said with a grin. "It's like your catchphrase or something!"

Harry gasped and shook the water out of his hair. Apparently, that bizarre dream he'd just had was his natural Legilimency's way of trying to wake him up while someone was sneaking up on his sleeping form. Someone armed with a bucket of ice water. That or he had some subconscious desire to form a harem.

"What the HELL, Theo?!"

The boy was unrepentant. "Well, you did ask me to make sure you got up before dawn, and this seemed like an efficient way to do it. Also, April Fools!"

"April 1st is next week, Theo!" Harry snarled.

"Yeah, but you'll be gone all next week for Easter Break, so I needed to strike preemptively."

"Of course you realize," Harry said as his wand leaped from his nightstand into his waiting hand. "This means WAR!"

Theo laughed again as he easily dodged a quick Stinging Hex and then ran out of the room, with his best (and wettest) friend following close behind.

Meanwhile at Peter Pettigrew's Apartment

Pettigrew's apartment sat empty and dark. It had been many hours since the five hit wizards who'd been cursed by one of the Toymaker's little jokes had been removed and sent to St Mungo's. Since then, the DMLE had put a ward on the place to keep anyone from entering. With Pettigrew himself already in custody, it had been decided to leave the Death Eater's home untouched until actual Aurors and cursebreakers had a chance to go over the place at their leisure. While otherwise effective, the wards cast on the apartment did have a few weak spots, albeit weak spots few would be able to penetrate.

In the darkened kitchen, there was no sound to be heard as a tiny beetle crawled up into the sink via a drainpipe. The beetle then took wing and slowly fluttered around the apartment searching for any signs of the DMLE or any other dangers. Satisfied, the beetle suddenly became a woman dressed head to toe in black who promptly produced a wand and then began a much more invasive search.

In less than an hour (she was a very good investigative reporter when she wanted to be), the woman found what she was looking for: a hidden compartment in the desk of Pettigrew's home office. The woman cast several highly illegal unlocking Charms to get the compartment to reveal its contents, which consisted of one very large banker's box. She then cast several other obscure spells that would identify and negate any defensive curses (she had been a Ravenclaw, after all), but it was still a risk. This was Pettigrew's secret stash of blackmail material, and he'd already shown his affinity for dark magic. But her spells revealed no magical defenses. Or at least none within her power to detect.

"Oh well, nothing ventured," she muttered. With a careful flick of her wand, the box floated out of its compartment and landed on the floor, and then the top flew off. As she cautiously thumbed through the files inside, her eyes widened at some of the famous and influential wizarding figures upon whom Pettigrew had assembled blackmail material. Then, her face broke out into a wide grin as she at last found the folder that bore her own name.

"Yes!" said Rita Skeeter triumphantly, as if after a long period of bondage, she had finally gotten free.

Hogwarts
6:15 a.m.

The sun had just begun to rise over the Forbidden Forest, and Harry Potter shivered slightly in the early morning chill. He stood behind Hagrid's shack with a bag containing some clean clothes he'd acquired from the Caretaker's private room. Right now, he just wanted to complete the current transaction and get back to the castle as quickly as possible. He had a busy day ahead (though not nearly as busy as the last two had been!), and it would raise questions if Hagrid came out and found him here now. It would raise even more questions if Hagrid came out and found him in the company of a timber wolf or, worse, a naked man.

Then, there was a flash of movement from the forest as the canid in question trotted out and headed straight for him.

"Good morning!" Harry said brightly when the wolf was just a few feet away. It looked at him with what Harry suspected was canine amusement before focusing its eyes on the bag in his hands and nodding. In response, the boy opened the bag and set it down on the ground. The wolf did not move but simply stared at him expectantly.

"Oh, right!" Harry said with a start before turning around and moving a few feet away to give the Animagus some privacy. Behind him, there was a soft whoosh of air followed by a loud gasp. As quickly as possible, Remus pulled on the trousers Harry had brought.

"Alright, Harry. You can turn around now." The Slytherin did so as Remus reached down for his shirt. "Thank you for bringing these, Harry."

The man paused and gave a belly laugh. "How feeble that sounds! How inadequate! Here I am thanking you for the gift of clothes when you've given me so much more that I can barely describe it all!"

Harry smiled as the man continued getting dressed. "You're welcome, Remus. But … I was wondering how much you actually remember about what happened?"

Remus considered the question while buttoning up his shirt. "I clearly remember everything that happened up until my transformation began. And then I remember everything that happened after I transitioned into my wolf form. As for what came between …."

The (maybe) werewolf turned thoughtful. "It's … so very odd. I've had that recurrent dream of being a small child lost in the woods and pursued by a monster since my early teens. I never knew what it meant. But now? I clearly remember having the same dream … only you showed up in the forest. You consoled my child-self and helped me to conquer the fear of the wolf that I had mistakenly thought was another monster. Now, of course, I realize that the dream was symbolic, the result of my latent Animagery fighting against the lycanthropy. As well as my own horror over having lycanthropy fighting just as hard against my Animagery."

He turned to the boy with a quizzical expression. "So, may I take it that you are a Legilimens, Harry? And an extraordinarily good one for your age?"

Harry shrugged. "I don't know yet how good I am, really. With Legilimency, at least. Apparently, I am very good at coming up with a last minute, incredibly reckless solution when the alternative is dying."

Remus looked down. "I'm so very sorry you had to be put in such a situation, Harry. If only I hadn't been such a fool as to trust Peter so easily."

"Eh, at least you have the excuse of being out of the country for twelve years. He fooled both my parents for that long, and they saw him all the time. And speaking of Legilimency, how did you know that's what I used?"

"Well for one thing, there's the fact that you shouted LEGILIMENS quite loudly right as I entered that dream-state."

Harry winced. If Remus remembered that despite being in the throes of a werewolf's frenzy, it was a good bet that Lily and Jim would both remember as well. Well, maybe not Jim. The Boy-Who-Lived looked to have had a minor breakdown of some kind after all the nasty surprises Pettigrew had revealed.

"I, uh, would be grateful if you kept that to yourself," Harry said anyway.

Remus smiled. "Of course! I assume Snape is teaching you?"

"Professor Snape, Remus!" Harry replied smugly which caused Remus to roll his eyes. "And yes, he's been giving me psychic training since I was a First Year."

"Well, given the results, I can only commend his skill as an instructor." The man looked pensive as he finished pulling on his boots. "And as a potioneer, I suppose. Now that he knows the Secret, I guess I should pay him a visit and thank him for all he's done for me this year. Even though I doubt he would have done so if he had known who he was helping."

Harry made a face. "Come on, Remus. He's not that bad."

Remus looked wistful. "I'm sure you're right. It's just … I have bad memories of him from our school days. Of course, I'm sure he still has bad memories of me. On the other hand, two of my closest school friends with whom I had my best school memories turned out to be fairly awful people. I suppose it's churlish to refuse to believe that Snape – Professor Snape, that is – could not have changed for the better. Now that he knows my Secret, if he's willing to let bygones be bygones, so will I."

The man was quiet for a moment. "Harry, I … don't know what will happen after this year. I came back to Hogwarts mainly to protect Jim from … well, from Sirius Black because I had no idea that the true danger was much closer. I will, of course, stay long enough to see Peter convicted and Sirius exonerated. But truthfully, I miss Shamballa a great deal. So, I don't know for certain whether I'll be staying at Hogwarts or even in Britain after this term ends. Until then …."

He turned and gave Harry a soulful expression. "Until then, do you think … do you think you and I could spend time together and talk? Really talk, I mean? I owe you so much. But we've spent most of our time together training or fretting about the Fidelius. I've been so worried about other things that I feel like I never really got the chance to know you. And since, if things had gone differently, I might well have ended up your guardian, I'd like to correct that."

"You would have been my guardian?" Harry asked. He'd known from Jim that Remus had once offered to take him in rather than let him go to the Dursleys, but he'd never heard any details.

Remus's face darkened. "When you were declared a squib and your parents resolved to send you to Petunia's family, I begged James to let me take custody of you instead so that you would still be raised in the magical world. But … he was afraid of my curse. Or perhaps he simply agreed with Lily that as a squib you would do best in the Muggle world. But she told me once that if it turned out the Healers were wrong and you did show magic while at the Dursleys, she would pull you from that house and send you to me, and I would take you to France to study at Beauxbatons. She even had fake identity papers ready for us both just in case."

"… Did she really?" replied the boy who suddenly realized that his mother's idea to relocate to France might not have been so impulsive after all.

The man nodded. "I don't know if I could have pulled it off. Acting as guardian to a child despite being a werewolf, I mean. But I want you to know that I would have done the best I could for you if I'd ever had the chance." He laughed again even as his eye grew a bit misty. "And now, you've done more for me than I ever thought anyone could. How can I repay you?"

Harry just looked at the man and wondered what life would have been like in another universe with Remus Lupin as his surrogate father. Then, unbidden, another thought came into his head. Or rather a memory. A desperate terrified hiss. A hungry growl that suddenly turned into a yelp of fear and pain. And the sickening wet sound of mutilated body parts slapping against a far wall. Harry suppressed the brief urge to vomit and then pushed the memory back into the lower depths of his consciousness.

"Have a good life, Remus," the boy said. "That's how you can repay me. Live a long and happy life."

Remus smiled and promised to do just that. Then, the man and the boy made their way back to the castle. Remus was looking forward to a hot shower and breakfast. Harry was looking forward to another meeting with his father.

Elsewhere, Lily Potter, oblivious to her son's early morning activities, slipped out the door to Severus Snape's private room. After taking a quick glance around to make sure she was not observed, she quietly made her way back to her own quarters.

The reading room across from the entrance to the Dungeons
8:00 a.m.

"Mr. Potter … Harry … are you sure you want to do this?" Kingsley Shacklebolt asked gravely.

Harry didn't know Kingsley Shacklebolt very well, but he was nevertheless touched by the Senior Auror's genuine concern over the oath he was about to share. Like James, the Auror was in civilian robes, as the castle still would not tolerate the presence of Aurors even when present on unofficial business.

Meanwhile, James looked rather like he was sucking a lemon. Although the elder Potter still felt a mutual Unbreakable Vow was necessary, the man still felt a bit dirty in asking such a vow from Harry, and the disappointed and slightly revolted expression on Shacklebolt's face didn't make things better. After James gave the matter some thought the night before, he was dismayed to suddenly realize that with Peter gone, he was not only without anyone he could trust to handle his business affairs, he was also very short on people he could genuinely count as friends. And he wondered if asking Kingsley to participate in this might cost him one of the few friends he had left.

"Yes, Auror Shacklebolt," Harry said confidently. "Believe me. This is the best for both me and for James Potter. Please proceed."

"Very well."

Shacklebolt nodded, and James and Harry grasped hands. The bonder placed his wand over both their hands and began.

"Will you, James Potter, stand before the Wizengamot and grant your son and Heir full emancipation under the law and refrain thereafter from interfering in his personal or financial affairs in any way for the remainder of both your lives?"

"So long as he swears an Unbreakable Vow to immediately thereafter renounce his family name and paternal lineage and to reject any rights or privileges he enjoys as a son of House Potter until the day he dies – I will."

"Will you, Harry Potter, stand before the Wizengamot and, upon your father's grant of emancipation, promptly renounce your family name and paternal lineage and reject any rights or privileges you enjoy as a son of House Potter until the day you die?"

"So long as he swears an Unbreakable Vow to pay me the sum of eleven-million galleons either in currency or in personal assets judged to be of equivalent value by a certified, independent, and oathbound Gringotts appraiser within one week of my renunciation, and also to fulfill those other concessions to which he has previously verbally agreed in exchange for this oath – I will."

"Will you, James Potter, pay to the wizard currently known as Harry Potter the sum of eleven-million galleons either in currency or in personal assets judged to be of equivalent value by a certified and oathbound Gringotts appraiser within one week of the renunciation to which he has already sworn, and also fulfill those other concessions to which you have already previously verbally agreed in exchange for this oath?"

"So long as he fulfills the terms of the Oath he has already sworn – I will."

With each oath, a thin tongue of brilliant flame issued forth from Shacklebolt's wand to wind its way around their hands, binding the father and son together in a mutual reciprocal oath.

"It is done," Shacklebolt said. Then, he looked up at James with a frosty expression. "Will that be all, Chief Auror?"

"Yes. Thank you, Kingsley."

The Auror nodded curtly and then left without another word. James closed his eyes and sighed.

"He'll get over it," Harry said reassuringly. "So, we're doing this tomorrow, right?"

"Yes," James nodded. "Minister Fudge has called an emergency session tomorrow morning. He wants to make a big show of announcing everything about the Azkaban Crisis being resolved and then officially relinquish his Praetor Maximus powers. I reckon he thinks it will look good in the papers. Show he's not power-hungry. It should be a short session, though. Just roll call, Fudge's official report, and an open floor for House announcements. That's when we'll do it."

Harry nodded. "What about the trial for Pettigrew?"

James looked downcast. "It hasn't been scheduled yet. I imagine it will be next week. Right now, he's locked up in a DMLE cell that's warded against Animagi, so he's not going anywhere." James snorted softly. "Ironically, he's just down the hall from where his … mentor Rookwood is being held. The Unspeakables are still studying Rookwood to make sure he's well and truly lobotomized. It's possible that one of the matters to be discussed tomorrow is whether we can legally send him and the Lestrange Brothers back to Azkaban after they've suffered Personality Death."

Harry nodded and then changed the subject. "So … have you told Lily about … well, any of this yet?"

The man let out a nervous laugh. "No. I know it's not very Gryffindor of me, but honestly, I've been afraid to. Your mother hasn't hexed me since we were Fifth Years. But when she did, it tended to hurt."

Harry laughed as well but then noticed the man was quite serious. "Do you want me to talk to her first?"

"No, no. I need to face this. Her – face her, I mean. We'll … get through it somehow."

The boy nodded. "And perhaps its none of my concern anymore, but what do you plan to do about Jim and his Imperius. Whether we're legally brothers or not, I still don't like the idea of him being hopelessly paranoid about me."

James nodded. "I'll talk to him, I promise. That … won't be a pleasant conversation either, but it's also something I'll need to face."

He tried to joke but the worry in his eyes was obvious. "In his case though, I'll wait until after we finish resolving our Vows. It wouldn't do, after all, to confess my crimes and then have him send me to Azkaban before we even have a chance to go before the Wizengamot together."

"Oh yeah," Harry said with only a little sarcasm. "That would be tragic."

Fifteen Minutes Later
Lily Potter's Quarters

Lily had just finished getting dressed and was on her way to breakfast when there was a knock on her door. She was surprised to open it up and find her husband on the other side.

"Good morning, Lily-Flower!" he said with faked confidence.

"James!" she answered in surprise. "What are you doing here?"

"Can't a loving husband pay a surprise visit to his beautiful wife?"

Her eyes narrowed. "Theoretically. But in practice, whenever my husband gives an evasive response like that, it means he's trying to butter me up because he's done something that he knows I won't like."

James winced and then entered the small apartment.

"Okay, okay. I … well, I wanted you to hear it from me first." He took a deep breath and then spoke very quickly. "Harry has agreed to remove himself from House Potter. He'll be officially disclaiming his inheritance and family membership in the morning."

Lily stepped back from her husband in shock, followed swiftly by anger.

"You wouldn't listen, would you! I warned you, James. I warned you what would happen if you tried to hurt Harry again! And I'll bet you still haven't read our damned marriage contract!"

James grimaced. "I read it, Lily. And I honestly can't believe my own mother would put language like that in our betrothal agreement. But that doesn't matter. Clause 19 is not applicable because Harry wants to leave the family. It was his idea."

"Oh, come on!" Lily spat angrily.

"It's true, Lily!" James said quickly. "I swear it!"

"Our son and your Heir just … voluntarily gave up his birthright? Do you seriously expect me to believe that, James?! Why on Earth would he do that?"

James looked almost embarrassed as he rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. "Well for one thing, because I agreed to pay him 11 million galleons."

Lily's eyes widened in shock at the announcement. She stared at James utterly speechless for several long seconds.

And then, she burst into laughter.

Meanwhile ...

While Harry's mother was overcome with amusement at her firstborn's financial coup, the boy in question was in his dorm room, lying on his bed and grinning madly at Sirius Black's befuddled face through their two-way communication mirrors.

"Okay, here's the deal. Tomorrow morning, there will be an emergency Wizengamot session where the Ministry will formally announce that you were falsely convicted in a fraudulent process. James will also announce that his recovered memories show that Peter was his Secret Keeper and not you. That should be enough to officially get you free. I've also sent an owl to my solicitor asking him to handle all the legal paperwork for getting you completely exonerated and officially installed to the Black Lordship."

"James has recovered his true memories?" Sirius asked somewhat excitedly. Harry shrugged.

"Let's just say he's willing to make the announcement whether his memories are restored or not."

Sirius's eyes narrowed. "And how did that change of heart come about?"

Harry smiled wistfully. "Eh. It's a long and complicated story, but the short version is that I'll soon be taking you up on that offer to officially become a Black."

The older man was speechless. "That … bastard!" he finally said with a snarl.

"Don't even start, Sirius!" Harry interrupted. "I'm happy to do this. Eager, in fact. Please don't worry or get upset over it. It's bad for your health."

"Harry … in addition to just offering you the Black name, I also offered to formally adopt you as my Heir. And it is not the Heir's place to put his Lord's health and safety above his own."

"Yes, well, don't worry. My health and safety are better than they've ever been, thank you very much. So, I guess I have the luxury to bother about yours. If Podmore & Associates agrees to represent you, they'll contact you through Lady Augusta, so be on the lookout for word from her. Otherwise, I'll see you tomorrow afternoon. Bye!"

The mirror in Sirius's hand went blank, and then, he could see only his own reflection. For a brief instant, something in his slate-grey eyes both startled and unnerved him, and he quickly set the mirror down.

"Damn you, James," he growled angrily.

He chose not to think about it, but that alarming "something" in his eyes reminded him uncomfortably of a similar gleam he used to see in his mother's eyes when she was at her most terrifying. And while he could not have known it, the last time that "something" was visible in his own eyes was just before he sent Severus Snape to face a hungry werewolf.

Snape's Chambers

And speaking of Severus Snape and his personal nightmare, the former had been quite surprised to find the latter standing outside his door as he prepared to leave for breakfast. The Potions Master's eyes widened before narrowing into an angry glare.

"Mr. Sturgeon. Or I suppose I should say Mr. Lupin. To what do I owe the pleasure of this early morning visitation."

"I came, Professor Snape, to clear the air between us," Lupin said easily. "Now that you know the Fidelius Secret and thus my true identity, I thought it best not to let things fester for the remainder of the year."

Snape snorted but then stepped aside so the other man could come in.

"Clear the air, you say? And what air needs to be cleared?"

"Well first of all," Remus began. "I want to thank you for your work in producing the Wolfsbane Potion for me over the course of this year. While my meditations at Shamballa have made my transformations a bit less painful and draining, it has been many years since I experienced the true lucidity that the formula provides. My transformations were never pleasant, but thanks to you, they were no longer agonizing."

Snape nodded slowly. "You … are welcome."

"Second," Remus began but then hesitated. "I am advised that you now remember the true events from the Shrieking Shack in the fall of 1976. I should like to know … well, where that leaves us."

"Leaves … us?"

Lupin nodded gravely. "As I understand it, you are now fully aware of the fact that you were never in any real danger that night. That you never owed James Potter any sort of life debt. That you knowingly and voluntarily agreed to having your memories altered in exchange for just the mere chance of obtaining a prestigious apprenticeship with Damocles Belby. And that while Sirius Black may have intended you ill, the only person who truly inflicted any harm on you was the future Death Eater, Augustus Rookwood."

Snape raised his chin defiantly. "And since I later became a Death Eater myself, I got what I deserved?"

"I didn't say that," Remus answered calmly. "I merely wish to know whether you will judge me and my future actions on their merits rather than holding me solely responsible for mistakes we both made during our impetuous youths."

The Slytherin scoffed. "You actually think that our mistakes from that era were equivalent? Generally, when you Marauders came after me, it was 4-on-1."

"And when Rosier, Mulciber, and you came after us, you likewise usually targeted only one of us when we were by ourselves. And other than Sirius Black's wholly unwarranted murder attempt and that deeply regrettable incident right after we finished our OWLS in Fifth Year, our pranks against you may have been embarrassing but rarely outright cruel. As opposed to …."

"Stop!" the other man snapped. "Let me guess – you're going to throw the Mary McDonald incident in my face. And in response, I will tell you that I do deeply regret that incident to this very day. But while I gave Mulciber the potion he used on the girl, I also gave clear instructions on dosage which he disregarded by slipping her half a bottle instead of three drops."

"Fair enough, Professor Snape. But I also refer to the incident from early in our Sixth Year involving the raspberry tarts."

With that comment, only Occlumency and Slytherin poise kept Snape from laughing out loud. He remembered the incident well. It was his payback for getting humiliated by the Marauders the prior year during the events that led to Lily cutting ties with him. It was also the last prank to take place between the Snape and the Marauders before The Prank.

It had taken some doing, but he'd arranged to have four homemade raspberry tarts delivered to James Potter by "someone with a crush on him" during the train ride back to Hogwarts at the start of the fall term. And, as expected, Potter had shared them with his three best friends. The desserts had been dosed with a potion of Snape's own design, a modification on one of the weaker love potions they'd studied. It was one of his more ingenious efforts but also one which might have landed him in a great deal of trouble if anyone had ever been able to prove he'd done it.

The potion caused the one who consumed it to feel an intense and uncontrollable feeling of sexual arousal when exposed to a certain otherwise non-sexual stimulus. In this instance, Snape had designed the potion to be triggered by the sound of Minerva McGonagall's voice. Worse, the effect grew more pronounced the more loudly she spoke. Worse still, it took two weeks for the effects to wear off since the Marauders were too embarrassed to go see Madam Pomfrey about the matter.

Watching his tormentors squirm in blushing misery throughout the Sorting Ceremony as they got a jolt of undesired passion every time she yelled out a student's name from across the room was one of the happiest moments of Snape's life, albeit one far too mean-spirited to fuel a Patronus. Watching it continue through two weeks of Transfiguration lessons, especially when McGonagall would grow vocally irate with the boys for being understandably "distracted" in her class was even better.

Snape spent a moment reveling in the memory before noting Remus's expression which was far less entertained.

"Really?" Snape said in surprise. "That is your chosen example of my so-called cruelty?"

"I was sixteen, Snape," Remus growled. "Sixteen and had never even been on a date because of my terror over being a werewolf and perhaps losing control of myself during a moment of passion. My life up to that point had been one of rigid self-control with the sole exception of a few happy times spent in the company of the Marauders when I could let go a little. And then, to suddenly feel … that way about my most admired teacher who is nevertheless old enough to be my grandmother! It was easily the most humiliating experience of my life, and may I remind you, for most of my life, I was forced to strip naked and be medically examined by a mixed-gender room full of Unspeakables at every full moon!"

Snape studied the man. While he remembered the savage feeling of satisfaction from the Marauders' discomfort and embarrassment, he had never thought that his prank might genuinely be traumatic to any of his tormentors.

"Did your friends feel the same way?" he asked.

Remus snorted. "Oh no. Once they realized we'd been pranked, they all thought it was hilarious. They kept trying to get McGonagall to call on me in class. Even …" he paused suddenly. "Even Peter," he added quietly.

"Why are you telling me this, Lupin? Have you truly held a grudge over the incident this long?"

"No," he answered. "Quite the opposite. All those things happened when we were kids. Mistakes on both sides from which I think we should just move on. I know from Albus that that you were, despite what we all thought at the time, a valiant foe of You-Know-Who. And … and I also know what it's like to be a spy for Albus Dumbledore and have people who don't understand what that means judge you for whatever you had to do to maintain your cover. Or even what they imagine you had to do. I guess what I'm saying is … we are grown men now, and we are both on the same side. So, can we not set aside our teenaged rivalries and start over fresh?"

Snape stared balefully at the man who'd haunted his nightmares for so many years. But Remus Lupin was, of course, correct. Even when Snape had genuinely believed The Prank to be an outright murder attempt, none of it had been Lupin's fault. And since he'd already forgiven Sirius (and how astonishing it was that they were now on a first name basis!), the true instigator of The Prank, it would be churlish to not forgive Lupin after what seemed to be a genuine and heartfelt appeal.

That said, if Potter ever apologized for how he'd acted during their school days and seemed at all sincere doing so, Snape thought he'd probably keel over dead from the shock of it.

With a long-suffering sigh, the Slytherin stuck out his hand. "Fine," he grumbled. "Severus Snape, Potions Master of Hogwarts."

Remus smiled and shook his former enemy's hand. "Remus Lupin. Also known as Malachi Sturgeon and Brother Chandra. So very nice to meet you."

"Yes, yes. Charmed, I'm sure. So, now that we've completed this bonding experience, is there anything else I can do for you, as I've not had breakfast yet."

"Well, yes. Just one more thing." The man paused briefly as if trying to judge how to proceed. "Albus says that you have committed yourself to improving Belby's Wolfsbane Potion."

"I have. I owe more than I can ever repay to Master Belby. But improving one of his greatest achievements would be a good start. Why?"

"Because I would like very much … to dissuade you from that goal."

"Dissuade?" Snape repeated in surprise. "One would think that someone of your background would be eager to see lycanthropy cured."

"Well, that's just it. I don't think Belby's formula is a cure. All it can do is give a werewolf more self-control and intelligence while transformed. But as far as I know, every werewolf in the world except for me descends into extreme antisocial behavior within months of being bitten. A year at most before eventually becoming psychotic. And we now know that the reason I am an exception to the rule is because of something that cannot be replicated. The odds that anyone else who contracts lycanthropy also turns out to be a latent natural Animagus are so remote as to be statistically zero. All the Belby Potion is good for now is making werewolves into more effective killers."

Snape made a disgruntled face. "I made a promise, Lupin. Not quite a vow, but a promise that I would finish Belby's work. I am not willing to abandon that promise so easily."

"I understand," the man said reasonably. "And it's an admirable goal. I'm just saying that the Belby formula is a dead end. If you're serious about curing lycanthropy, you need a new approach."

The Slytherin tilted his head and looked at the Gryffindor quizzically. "What did you have in mind?"

Remus smiled. "Well, speaking as a Potions Master, what exactly do you know about the process for becoming an Animagus?"

Snape's eyes widened in surprise at the question. Intrigued, he poured some coffee for himself and his former nemesis, all thoughts of breakfast forgotten. The two moved over to his living area, with Snape taking his favorite easy chair and Remus sitting down on the sofa. And for the next hour, Remus would explain everything he had learned about Animagery and answer every question Snape had about the process.

And the whole time, Remus diligently fought down the urge to inquire as to why Severus Snape's sofa smelled like Lily Potter.

The Goldstein Group's meeting room
9:00 a.m. (for the third time)

The Deputy-Headmistress led Hermione once more into the classroom that had been claimed by the Goldstein Group for their experiments but did not follow her in. Inside the room, the young Gryffindor was met by two adult wizards, both of whom she recognized. They were standing on the other side of the same round table she'd been working with for months, upon which sat a familiar cube-shaped object covered by a thick cloth. Once the door closed behind her, the two wizards enacted several obscure privacy Charms she'd long since mastered. Only then did they seem to relax. The older man spoke first.

"Now that that's done, allow me to introduce myself. I am Saul Croaker, the Public Relations Officer for the Department of Mysteries. Also known colloquially, if a bit overdramatically, as the Voice of the Unspeakables. My associate here … well, for purposes of today's meeting, you may address him as Number Seventeen."

"It's a pleasure to meet you both," Hermione said pleasantly.

"Likewise, Miss Granger. Now, before we proceed," said Seventeen. "We have a few preliminary questions. First, you are Hermione Jean Granger, a Third Year Muggleborn Sorted into Gryffindor in 1991?

"Yes."

"And you are also the daughter of Dan and Emma Granger, who reside in Crawley and work in London as dentists?"

"I am," she said calmly.

"And were you born on September 19, 1979 at 2:47 p.m. and a Virgo?"

"Yes to both."

Seventeen looked at Croaker, who nodded. Then, the two men reached towards the covered object on the table together, with each of them grabbing a corner of the cloth before yanking it away. Underneath was a solid cube completely covered in a chrome-like metal with an obvious button on the top.

"Have you ever seen this object before, Miss Granger?"

She studied the familiar object and then looked up at the Unspeakables. "Yes," she said calmly. "It's called the Cryptohedron, and it contains the magical artifact you Unspeakables refer to as the Time-Turner."

The two men stared at her in shocked silence.

"Bloody hell," Seventeen whispered. "It actually happened!"

The poor man looked so excited that Hermione feared he might be on the verge of wetting himself. Croaker was calmer, though his discomfort at realizing he was standing in the presence of an actual time traveler and, perhaps more importantly, someone who had escaped from a doomed reality was palpable.

"Thank you, Miss Granger," he said tersely after clearing his throat. "Please activate the Cryptohedron and replace the Time-Turner now. I assume you know how."

By way of an answer, the witch reached over and pressed the button in the middle of the cube. In response, the Cryptohedron went through its standard activation process before opening and shooting a bright light up at the ceiling. Hermione reached her hand into the light, and the Time-Turner appeared in her grasp. She withdrew her hand, and the oddly twisted device simply floated in mid-air.

Hermione and the Unspeakables stared at the Time-Turner in fascination. However, after a few seconds, fascination turned into consternation for Croaker and Seventeen.

"I was given to understand, Seventeen, that at this point, the Time-Turner should float back down into the Cryptohedron, which would then close and we'd be done with all this!"

"I-it should, Croaker! I don't understand!"

Hermione sighed loudly. "I'm sorry, gentlemen. I was afraid something like this might happen."

Then, without another word, she turned and headed for the door, casually disabling three high-level locking Charms along the way. She opened the door before the Unspeakables could interfere and then beckoned someone to enter.

"Hello!" the boy said cheerfully as he accompanied his friend back to the table. "I'm Harry Potter. Well, for the moment at least. You must be Mr. Croaker and Mr. Seventeen. Hermione's told me all about you. Or what little she knows anyway."

"Harry!" Hermione snapped. "Stop chin-wagging and do as I told you!"

"Oh, right!" Harry reached forward and put his own hand into the light stream just below where the Time-Turner still floated. To the shock of the Unspeakables, a second Time-Turner appeared, and then, both objects somehow merged into a single Time-Turner which gently floated back down into the bowels of the Cryptohedron. The Cryptohedron closed itself and went dormant once more. Seventeen was gobsmacked and looked rather like a Muggle child who'd just found out that Santa Claus was real and was friends with the Easter Bunny. Croaker was less entertained.

"What the bloody hell just happened?!" he shouted in consternation.

"Well," Hermione began. "Originally, you revealed the Cryptohedron to me in an earlier timeline and asked me to use it to prevent a sequence of events that had led to the takeover of the Ministry of Magic by Death Eaters and would soon lead to a global disaster involving You-Know-Who, Dementors or both. Luckily, I got that taken care of rather easily. However, just a few days ago from my perspective, a different sequence of events unrelated to the prior timeline – well, except for the fact that Harry here was no longer a soulless husk – seemed likely to lead to an imminent yet unrelated global disaster involving intelligent werewolves."

"… intelligent werewolves?!" Croaker sputtered in confusion.

"Yes sir," Harry said while picking up the story. "If you've been following the news, you probably know that Peter Pettigrew was a Death Eater who framed Sirius Black for his crimes. Yesterday in the timeline before this one …."

He turned to Hermione in confusion. "Is that the right way to say it? The timeline before this one?"

The girl nodded, and Harry turned back to the astonished wizards.

"Right. So yesterday in the timeline before this one, Peter Pettigrew got hold of Damocles Belby's Wolfsbane Potion which he was going to replicate and then provide to Fenrir Greyback's pack."

Croaker began to sputter loudly at the mention of Belby's potion.

"Harry advised me of these developments after they'd already happened," Hermione continued. "I idly wondered whether it would be possible to use the Time-Turner again to go back and prevent those events from occurring. I quickly realized that I would not be able to travel back a second time but that I could send Harry back instead, at which point I realized that the Time-Turner itself had given me tacit approval to do just that."

"What?!" Seventeen exclaimed.

"And so," Harry said, "right about now for you but two days ago for me, Hermione summoned me here, explained what was going on, and allowed me to use the Time-Turner which sent me back in time just far enough to stop Pettigrew. Oh, and by the way, Remus Lupin is basically cured of his lycanthropy."

"Remus Lupin is here at Hogwarts?" Croaker asked weakly. "And … basically cured of lycanthropy?!"

"Yes," said Harry. "He's been living at Hogwarts posing as the new Caretaker, Malachi Sturgeon …."

"Hang on," Hermione interrupted. "Malachi Sturgeon is also this Remus Lupin person? And he's also a werewolf? You never told me that!"

"Sorry," Harry said bashfully. "I did tell you in the previous timeline, but it slipped my mind in this one."

Then, the boy blinked in sudden confusion. "Hang on! Malachi Sturgeon is actually the werewolf Remus Lupin." Then, Harry grinned widely. "Ah! The Secret is no longer valid! Which means he's not a werewolf at all anymore!"

He turned to Croaker and Seventeen who were now even more confused. "Gentlemen, please allow me to amend my prior statement. Remus Lupin is now completely cured of lycanthropy! I should probably go and tell him right after this!"

"What? Someone got the Wolfsbane Potion to work?!" Croaker exclaimed.

"What is the Wolfsbane Potion?" asked Seventeen, who had never been cleared for knowledge of the long-defunct Project Romulus.

"Never mind, Seventeen!" Croaker hissed through gritted teeth.

"To answer your question," Harry added. "No, the Wolfsbane Potion did not cure Remus. Rather, he was cured through something related to Animagery, though he can probably explain it to you better than I can. I've never been interested in becoming an Animagus."

"Really?" Hermione asked in surprise. "Not ever?"

"Nope. With my luck, my Animagus form would be a guppy or something."

"Trust me, Harry. If you ever become an Animagus, you would never end up something as boring as a guppy!"

"A-hem! If we could return to the matters at hand, please!" Croaker barked loudly enough to make Seventeen jump slightly.

"Now, then," he continued in a huff. "If I understand you both correctly, Miss Granger, you and Mr. Potter met here in this room, and you allowed him to somehow acquire a second Time-Turner?!"

"Oh no," the girl responded. "From what Harry told me, the other me returned her Time-Turner to the Cryptohedron and then somehow reset it so that Harry could then open it and claim the Time-Turner for himself. Then, he went back in time, at which point there were two Time-Turners active at the same time although they were really just the same Time-Turner co-locating. I suppose it has something to do with the First Exception to the Fifth Exception to Gamp's Law of Elemental Transfiguration that you both explained to me in the prior timeline. Or, I suppose, in both of the two prior timelines."

"… but … how, Miss Granger?" Seventeen stammered out. "How did you just … reset the Cryptohedron manually?!"

The witch shrugged. "I'm sure I've no idea, Mr. Seventeen. I wasn't the one who did it. It was a different me, and I don't have her knowledge of how to do it. Or perhaps, I no longer have my knowledge of how to do it, depending on how you want to look at it."

"It's like I said," Harry said to his friend. "Time-traveling pronouns are tough."

"Indeed," Hermione replied.

"Uh-huh," Croaker said while rubbing his face with his hands. "And where were Seventeen and I while you were resetting the Cryptohedron so that someone else could take a wholly unprecedented jaunt through time and history?"

Hermione paled slightly. "If it's all the same, Mr. Croaker, I'd rather not say. I mean, I'm sure the two of you are mature and sensible enough not to hold a grudge over something an alternate version of myself did to alternate version of yourselves in a timeline that no longer exists, but …."

"RIGHT! NEVER MIND!" Croaker shouted. "We're done, Seventeen! The Time-Turner has been returned to its container, and we have enough information on the crisis – or crises, I suppose – that triggered its activation. We can go now, and I can go drink enough whiskey to make myself forget the Cryptohedron exists. And if Magic has any mercy for me, that damnable Chime won't sound again until after I'm long dead!"

"Does the Cryptohedron have a chime?" Harry asked Hermione out of curiosity.

"NEVER! MIND!" Croaker wiped his hands over his face once again before speaking in a quieter but still agitated voice. "Now, is there anything which either of you would wish to share that either of you think might be … I don't know, good for the Unspeakables to know?"

Hermione reached into her robe and pulled out a scrap of paper. "Here, Mr. Seventeen. This is for you. You might find these useful areas of research."

Seventeen took the note and read it with a confused expression. "What is a … Klein bottle? And a … hypercube?"

"They're concepts from Muggle higher mathematics. I'm not really qualified to explain either of them to you, but if you have any scientifically-trained Muggleborns among the Unspeakables, they could probable arrange some kind of interview with some Muggle academics who are knowledgeable about 4th-dimensional mathematics."

Seventeen's face light up in excitement at the prospect of new avenues of research. Then, he looked down at the note again. "And who is this … Doctor Who person? He sounds Chinese!"

"It's a Muggle TV series with a time-travel element. It's off the air at the moment, but if your research into it seems like it might bear fruit, I'm sure you could, oh, I don't know, Confund the head of the BBC into starting it back up again?"

The young Whovian did her best to look innocent while beside her Harry just rolled his eyes.

"Thank you, Miss Granger," said Seventeen very earnestly. "Thank you so much for this! I can't wait to get back to work!"

"Yes, yes. I'm sure it will be exciting times in the Time Division for years to come, Seventeen. Anything else?"

Harry coughed. "Just one thing, Mr. Croaker." The boy reached into a pocket and pulled out the brass orb he used to record both Pettigrew's ranting monologue and his own father's confession as to using an Unforgiveable Curse.

"Hermione and I found this device in the Shrieking Shack. I was wondering if you could tell me what it's called?"

Croaker's eyes narrowed, as the boy's question implied that he knew exactly what it was, if not its name. He also resolved to find out what idiot had left a broken piece of highly classified magitech behind after Project Romulus shut down to be later found by precocious time-traveling children. But he would not play the boy's game of revealing exactly what the orb was. He would not ….

"I say!" Seventeen said in bemusement, "Is that an old Eye-Spy?! I haven't seen that model in years!"

"I knew it!" Hermione growled angrily through gritted teeth upon learning the predictably awful pun the wizards had devised for a flying camera. Croaker's teeth were grinding together for a different reason.

"Seventeen," he growled. "How in Merlin's name did you ever get a job at the Department involving handling classified materials!"

The other Unspeakable shrugged amiably. "Well, honestly, it's not usually an issue. My job generally only lets me deal with other Unspeakables instead of normal non-weird human beings."

"So!" Harry interrupted. "This Eye-Spy thingy. Has the Department of Mysteries ever given any thought to its … commercial possibilities?"

Croaker studied the boy for a few seconds. "Oh yes, I'd forgotten. You're the infamous Slytherin Potter."

Harry shrugged and waited for an answer to his question. After a few seconds of uncomfortable silence, Croaker gave in.

"We have, of course, investigated the commercialization of nearly every bit of magical technology that we've ever invented, discovered, or otherwise replicated. Usually, when the Department decides to allow some innovation of ours to enter the marketplace, we do so through licensing arrangements with private wizards and witches who have independently produced such magitech or are close to doing so. That way, our involvement in the private sector is both concealed and minimized."

Both Harry and Hermione instantly filed the word "magitech" away for future investigation.

"In the case of the Eye-Spy, the Department's Committee on Magical Ethics vetoed commercialization. The concern was that if Eye-Spies came into widespread use and were combined with invisibility Charms, it would represent an unacceptable invasion of wizarding privacy. We already grapple with the decision of the British government to put a camera on every street corner in London, a tremendous threat to the Statute of Secrecy. The Ethics Committee had no desire to see wizards repeat the mistakes of Muggles in that manner."

"The Ethics Committee said no?" Harry asked nonplussed. "You actually have an Ethics Committee?! You lot ran secret experiments for years on a werewolf child!"

"Experiments with the goal of helping that child overcome the debilitating curse which plagued him," Croaker said testily. "I know that the Department of Mysteries has an appalling reputation among conspiracy theorists who assume we regularly perform monstrous evils in furtherance of our duties. But the truth is that the DOM has been guided by strict ethical guidelines since its creation, guidelines meant to ensure …."

Bored with the man's moralizing, Harry touched the orb with his wand and said: "Replay at 6:43:12." Once more, the sound of Peter Pettigrew's snide voice emanated from the orb.

"And who do you think would help a wanted war criminal like Gustav Kleinwuchs emigrate to Britain and set him and his son up with fake identities? The Unspeakables, of course. They were willing to overlook his … indiscretions in exchange for all of his research notes from his work during the War."

Harry touched the orb again to stop the recording and then gazed coolly into Croaker's eyes.

"I'm curious, Mr. Croaker. When the Unspeakables decided to teach Peter Pettigrew how to become an Animagus, did you all know he was the grandson of Gustav Kleinwuchs, the Butcher of Silesia, who your so-very-ethical organization helped to escape justice and set up shop in Britain under a fake name in exchange for the research he obtained from experiments run in death camps?"

Upon hearing that secret revealed, Seventeen looked properly and genuinely appalled, as he was much younger than Saul Croaker and had never have learned of such a dark departmental secret. He grew even more horrified when he saw from Croaker's expression that the boy was telling the truth.

Croaker sighed. "Oh yes. Definitely a Slytherin. Can I assume that you've made arrangements to see this information disseminated if something happens that causes you to lose your recent memories?"

"You may assume, sir, that all kinds of information will be disseminated if anything happens to my memories or to any other part of me, including my friends. You may also assume that I'm aware of that potion your Department uses to block Obliviations from being detected by Remembralls and that I've prepared countermeasures."

The Unspeakable snorted. "Of course." With a flick of his wand, he summoned a box and then levitated the Cryptohedron into it.

"I will bring this matter to the attention of my superiors. We will likely not permit you to market an Eye-Spy with the functionality of the ones we use in our work. And in any case, I imagine those would be far too expensive for your commercial ambitions anyway. But I'm sure we can come to some sort of … mutual beneficial arrangement. I will owl you with the particulars in a week or so. You understand, of course, that with the capture of Pettigrew, the recovery of Augustus Rookwood, and this new information about Remus Lupin, our plate will be quite full until then."

"Naturally," said Harry easily. "I look forward to your owl. And to, as you said, a mutually beneficial arrangement."

"I'm sure you do." Croaker gave a curt but respectful nod to the two students and then made his way towards the door with the Cryptohedron tucked under his arm. An agitated Seventeen followed behind.

"Did we really give amnesty to Gustav Kleinwuchs?!" the younger man sputtered.

"Not. Now. Seventeen!" Croaker spat as the door closed behind them.

Hermione looked to her friend in astonishment.

"I honestly cannot believe you just blackmailed the Unspeakables with information about their collaboration with magical Nazis just to secure the rights to produce magical video cameras."

Harry laughed. "I'm pretty sure we just blackmailed the Unspeakables, Hermione. You were standing right beside me looking impassive the whole time. They'll never believe you're not in on it."

"Thank you, Harry," she replied archly. "I feel so much better knowing I'm officially your accomplice after the fact.

Next: Moving on, we check in on Jim and Ron, SPAM, Blaise, and our first real look inside the Department of Mysteries. Plus an invitation is issued.

AN1: Harry's dream sequence is a slightly stripped-down version of the mock chapter I posted for my Discord followers on April 1st. Everyone liked it so much I decided to incorporate it into the official update. The fact that it is being posted on 4/20 is entirely coincidental.

AN2: Check out the Sinister Man's web presence on the POS wiki, the POS TV Tropes page, and my Discord server (through which you can see advance previews of this story as it is begin written). Also, the Sinister Man would be profoundly grateful if you checked out my P*****n page and supported my original fiction. Patronage is not necessary to get the free POS previews via Discord.

AN3 (What the Sinister Man is reading):Nothing new, I'm afraid, though "Who Dares Win" by OlegGunnarson has updated.

AN4: Special thanks to my Discord editors:

Aza, Darkphoenix31, Fionan, Flareix_, HeidiWolf, JenniferWeasley, LFGB, Mr. Gift, nh1, Pivosh, and ProfessionalDragonslayer.

AN5: Vital Statistics: Reviews: 13,496. Followers: 14,432. Favorites: 12,598. Communities: 215. Go Team POS!