Magical Me
By Publicola

Published: 8-13-12

Answers from Animagi

I looked down again at the letter in my hands.

Mr. Lockhart,

We have learned of your unsolicited favor to our Nation, and of your request for the services of one of our more talented Curse Breakers, a Mr. William Weasley. Should you desire it, the wizard will await you in Conference Room D at 8 o'clock tomorrow morning. Please confirm if this is your wish.

Though honor bids us thank you for your work with Mr. Cresswell, we hope you will cease in your efforts to push us further in your debt.

May you die gloriously in the field of battle.

Ragnok Ironshard

Huh.

Filius arrived by Floo at his usual time. I hardly noticed.

"What do you have there, Gilderoy?"

Now I looked up. "Is it a good thing or a bad thing when goblins wish you to die gloriously?"

He took the note I offered him. "…field of battle. I see." He chuckled. "It's one of the rarer salutations, I can tell you that. They still loathe you – but you're a wizard, so no surprise there – but this means they respect you enough to wish you a good death. I suppose it's like saying 'we'd think of you fondly, but only if you were dead.' For a Clan leader writing to a wizard, that's positively friendly."

"You mean... they like me?" I ironically enthused.

He snorted. "Fair enough."

"Damn goblins give me a headache." I groused.

"You're not alone there. I have part-goblin blood, and even I feel the same way sometimes." He paused in thought. "I suppose this means that you're cancelling for tomorrow, right?"

"Unfortunately so. I have commitments that will occupy that evening as well. That actually reminds me – I wrote to Professor McGonagall the same day I wrote you, and she invited me over for tea this afternoon. You don't mind if we—?"

"No, not at all. In fact, I can key you in to the Floo in my office so you won't have to walk from Hogsmeade, how's that?"

"Thanks, that's very kind of you."

"Not a problem, really. Now, shall we start on Fifth Year?"

"Let me send them a response first. If you could get the memories ready?"

He left to extract the memories we'd be viewing, while I replied to Ragnok's letter, thanking him for his prompt reply and confirming that I would indeed present myself at Gringotts the next morning. I was sorely tempted to end the letter with something like "May you be crushed to death beneath a pile of galleons," but decided against it. Don't want to inadvertently start a war or something.

I made a mental note to read up on goblin history and culture.

Passing the letter off to Ozymandias, I entered the newly christened pensieve room, and we turned to the business of watching memories from Fifth Year.

Fifth Year began as the Fourth had ended: Hogwarts deep in the throes of an understated war, the next generation of Death Eater against the future fighters for the Light. Snape retained his place in the snake pit, while the Marauders continued their campaign against him and his cronies.

Despite their anonymity as Marauders, however, the four Gryffindors soon realized that Snape had decided to target them. At first it seemed to be merely an offensive against two wayward heirs of Ancient Houses. It soon became clear, however, that Snape's vendetta was more personal. No, this was at least partly about Lily.

In keeping tabs on the Gryffindor four, Snape had let his attention wander from Sirius and James to another member of their group. Snape had noticed Remus' mysterious disappearance on the night of September 20th, and again on October 20th. He had not yet made the connection – that both were nights of the full moon – but none of them doubted he would do so soon.

The Ministry had classified transformed werewolves as extremely dangerous dark creatures (Class XXXXX), and only near-human in their natural state: thus, unworthy of a magical education. While Filius and a few other members of staff were aware of Remus' condition, the young werewolf had not registered with the Ministry for fear of expulsion. If discovered, however, that would be the best he could hope for: a snapped wand and a swift kick in the pants back to the war raging beyond the grounds. But that was not the only possible outcome. If caught, it was not inconceivable that he would face execution.

The four Gryffindors could no longer afford to treat this as a mere annoyance. Snape had become a true menace. Yet even Marauders were stymied. Against such a dogged adversary, there was little they could do, and nothing further came of it until the following month.

Only by chance had Filius witnessed the first part of the story, and could thus share his memory of it.

It was Tuesday evening, November 18th, and Filius was working out of his office near the base of the West Tower. Shortly before curfew, Filius first heard then saw two students walking up to the Owlery: Sirius was escorting his latest conquest, Catherine MacMillen. In reality, the young lady was a long-time friend of the Potters who Sirius had met over the previous summer.

Sirius' reputation as a ladies' man was severely over-exaggerated, probably by design.

Filius noticed them through the door and was about to return his attention back to his desk when he noticed two things in quick succession: one, the two were walking rather oddly, and two, something shifted in the shadows behind them. They were being followed, and they knew it.

Filius waited a few moments to let them pass, then cast a disillusionment charm on himself to observe and (if need be) intervene. He soon learned that the eavesdropper was Severus Snape.

About half-way up the stairs Sirius began to speak in an oddly amplified voice, and Filius could tell he was putting on a show.

Now, for a Slytherin, Snape could be extraordinarily gullible. That held true especially when you start throwing around phrases like "secret weapon," "Remus' project," and "tunnel beneath the Whomping Willow."

Yep, turns out Sirius' plan was basically the same one Hermione had when she brought Umbridge into the Forest in Fifth Year.

Now, for such a clever man, Filius' intellect failed spectacularly at that moment. He knew that Remus was kept in the Shrieking Shack during his transformation – he had not been told, but it was not a hard deduction to make. He did not, however, make the connection that the Shack could be accessed by a tunnel beneath the Whomping Willow, nor (more problematically) did he recall that this was the night of the full moon. He simply surmised that this was the Marauders' just retaliation against Snape, and let the matter rest.

That complacency lasted until 11:31pm, when he heard the first keening howl. Another moment sent Filius careening out of the room, realizing his error and cursing the Black scion for the folly of sending Snape into such a trap.

There was quite a tableau awaiting him beneath the Willow. Snape and Potter lay outstretched beside each other, both breathing heavily. Snape's robes were torn, and James held a piece of them in his hands. Peter and Sirius soon came into view as well, escorting McGonagall and Dumbledore from the castle.

The tale was told. Sirius had bragged of his improvised prank to his fellow Marauders, only for James to object – either out of concern for Snape (death might be pushing their rivalry a bit too far) or for Lupin (whose role might be uncovered if there were an inquiry). James immediately set off after Snape, while Peter (true to form) ratted them out to McGonagall. Snape had entered the Shrieking Shack and seen the transformed werewolf, shortly before being hustled away from the jaws of death by his rival James Potter.

Lupin was not the only one frothing at the mouth that evening.

Snape was livid, deranged, ranting against them all. Dumbledore remained calm but unyielding in the face of Snape's demands that the werewolf be executed for endangering the son of a noble house (he had evidently discovered his mother's heritage). Snape kept going on and on about his status and rights as a Prince, until finally James' patience broke.

"Fine! You insist on playing these games, throwing around your newfound name? Then stand and receive. I, James Charlus, scion and heir of House Potter, do acknowledge the formation of a life debt owed to me by Severus Snape, scion of a lesser house. Is the debt countenanced?"

It seemed as though Snape struggled to breathe for several seconds, before resigning himself. "It is."

"I require a boon."

In the memory, Sirius and Peter were standing mouths agape at James' display, while Dumbledore and Filius had to keep McGonagall from intervening. In this, the House of your blood took precedence over the House of your sorting, and interference would not be looked kindly upon.

Snape struggled for a few moments, but at last he breathed again, saying through clenched teeth. "What do you want?"

"That you never speak of what you have seen tonight, nor inform anyone not present here of Remus Lupin's status as a werewolf, so long as the debt you owe to House Potter remains."

Snape stiffened, and I could see him struggle, but the compulsion took.

The rest of the memory sped by. Snape raged impotently as Dumbledore offered words of approval to James and to a lesser extent Peter for how they'd dealt with the situation. McGonagall made her extreme displeasure known to Sirius with a tongue-lashing, a two-week detention, and the promise of many more in the future.

My mind was awhirl as we withdrew from the pensieve.

Glitzy laid out lunch for us, and we ate in silence as I processed it all.

It had always bothered me how, in the third book, Sirius had so brazenly defended his potentially lethal prank against Snape. But now, I could understand his point. It was basically a slightly premeditated version of Hermione's bluff against Umbridge, when she tried to force a confrontation between her and the centaurs or with Hagrid's half-brother Grawp.

This memory had also made sense out of another point that had long puzzled me about the third book. In the confrontation in the Shrieking Shack, Snape had been hiding beneath the Invisibility Cloak for most of the conversation between Sirius and Remus. He knew that Sirius was no danger to Harry. Yet he insists again and again that he was saving Harry's life. So why the self-delusion? The life-debt explained it: if he could repay the debt (or fool himself into thinking he had done so), the compulsion would unravel and Snape could seek justice for the attempt on his life. Dumbledore probably kept him from dragging Lupin before the Ministry executioner, but there was nothing to stop him from exposing Lupin as a werewolf and thus forcing him to resign.

Finishing the midday meal, we returned to the pensieve.

Over the next month of memories, we beheld a renewed power struggle between the Houses. Snape had discovered a new enemy, a known enemy, one that could be reached, unlike those damnably anonymous Marauders. He began to lash out against James and his friends, who responded in kind. Pranks became increasingly vicious, and it was all the professors could do to shield the non-combatants.

Lily did not understand the reason for such a dramatic shift, and began to distance herself from her Gryffindor study partners out of loyalty to her old friend, however cold he had become.

Filius noted that the Marauders' study habits had somehow intensified, especially in Transfiguration. It was clear that the near-miss had made James that much more determined to become an animagus. No doubt a large part of that was to ensure his own safety for future encounters, but I could easily guess at another reason. James did not want Remus cooped up in a place where he could be so easily discovered.

It was not for pleasure that they left the safe confines of the Shrieking Shack. It was to preserve Lupin's secret.

All four had made the decision to remain at Hogwarts over Christmas. Filius confided that, though it had taken him several more months to figure out precisely what had changed, it was in the first week of break that he noticed something was different. Now he could point out the missed cues he had subconsciously noted. Peter was unchanged, but the features of both James and Sirius were somehow altered. The changes were subtle, in the cheekbones or hairline, but were clear enough in retrospect. The two had just completed their first full animagus transformations.

The final memory Filius shared was from the following week: Thursday evening, December 18th, the last full month of the year. In the memory Filius passed by a window on his way to retire for the night, just as a howl broke through the cold air. "Pause." There in the distance, at the edge of the woods, were the far-away figures of a wolf, a grim, and a stag, free and unfettered for the first time.

"I suspected…" he broke the silence as we exited the bowl. "I suspected they were but never knew – and to see them!"

I nodded breathlessly: it had been a truly inspiring sight.

By then it was early afternoon, and time for me meet with Professor McGonagall. Filius went through first, to key me in to the Floo in his office.

He was already at his desk when I arrived through the flames. "I'll get some paperwork done while I wait for you. You'll use my office to return?"

"If you'll allow it."

"Certainly."

It was a long walk between Filius' office in the West Tower and McGonagall's office just off the Grand Stairway. As I ventured through corridors and courtyards, I wondered how the upcoming conversation would proceed.

My stated reason for this visit was to discuss teaching, to learn from her half-century of experience.

Of course, that was the same reason I used for seeking out Filius, and look how that turned out. No, though I was interested in what she could teach me about being a Professor, I was far more interested to see if she would be of use to me, or if she would get in my way.

The books present Minerva McGonagall as an excellent teacher and a 'stern but fair' Head of House. On the surface, she even appears sympathetic to Harry's plight. On the other hand, she is one of the most consistently useless characters in the series, right up there with Remus Lupin.

Let's face the facts. She knew that the Dursleys were unfit guardians for Harry, but let Dumbledore run roughshod over her objections. In first year she sent him on that ridiculous life-endangering detention in the Forbidden Forest. On the two occasions he brought her a major problem – Philosopher's Stone in first year, the Blood Quill in fifth year – she ignored or disregarded his concerns. And not once did she address the rampant harassment and bullying that Harry faced, especially in second or fourth year.

Then there's her most grievous failure: the decision (made by practically every adult in Harry Potter's life) to withhold information about his godfather. You know, the presumed mass-murdering family betrayer bent on escaping Azkaban (check), evading a nationwide manhunt (check), infiltrating Hogwarts (check), kidnapping Harry (check) and doing away with him… oh, wait, he was innocent all along. Honestly, it's like deciding not to tell someone that the mob is after them. Even if the mob wasn't, the fact that everyone thought they were, but didn't even tell the person in the crosshair about the danger, tells you all you need to know.

I idly wondered if she was affected by some sort of compulsion. That'd be a convenient excuse: potentially useful adult hamstrung by mind-control potions. I mentally shrugged. It's plausible, but far too pat. Maybe I'd set her up with a healer to make sure, but in the meantime, it's safer to just assume she's too far in Dumbledore's pocket to see anything but lint.

I caught my breath outside her door, then rapped once, twice.

A few seconds later it swung open, and I beheld the stern visage of my old Transfiguration Professor.

I gulped involuntarily.

"Mr. Lockhart." Her Scottish brogue sounded somehow flat. "Please, come in." She returned to the other side of her desk. "Tea?"

Might as well. "Please."

She clapped her hand, and an elf popped in with a service. She reached over to pour a cup for each of us. "I can't say how glad I was to receive your letter." She didn't sound particularly glad at all. "Our recent spate of Defense Professors have been less than satisfactory, so it's good to meet one who takes genuine interest in the art of teaching." She paused, "Milk and sugar?"

God yes. "Certainly."

She continued. "I trust you understand my reasons for declining your original request. Memories can be intensely private, and I did not feel comfortable sharing mine with a stranger. I mean no offense," she added abruptly. "I rarely have time for students outside my House. You were in my class, but not one of my Lions, so I don't know you that well."

I could tell a biting remark was on her tongue, something like "and what I heard, I did not like." I appreciated her restraint. "Of course, ma'am. Frankly, with your invitation I felt I had the better of it. Mere memories would be far inferior, far more impersonal, than the insight you could share in person."

I will say this for Lockhart: the man knew how to flatter.

A smile played at the corner of her mouth as she responded. "Why thank you, Mr. Lockhart. So where would you like to begin?"

I paused in thought. "Well, I guess this is more a question for your as Deputy Headmistress. During the interview Dumbledore promised to send me a copy of the staff handbook in the week before classes begin. I was hoping it might be possible for me to get it now? I'd like to review it thoroughly."

Her eyebrows shot up, "Of course! I'm afraid it's rather sparse, but… let me see…" she turned and rifled through some of her shelves. "Here we are. You can borrow my copy until you get your own. I'll hold onto yours, and will give it to you when you return mine. Just be sure to get it back before classes begin. Sounds fair?"

"Deal!" I cheerily replied. "Say… I can't help but wonder if there's any other paperwork that might come in handy. You wouldn't have a copy of the Hogwarts Charter or anything?"

Her lips thinned. "I have a copy, but they are only given to the Headmaster, Deputy, and Board of Governors. I cannot give it to you without permission. As for your other requests, I'm afraid you'll have to be more specific than that, Mr. Lockhart."

Strike one. "I understand. If I think of anything, I'll be sure to let you know." At least she pointed me in the right direction. I doubted either McGonagall or Dumbledore would be of much help here, so I'd probably wind up working with the Governors at some point. I moved on. "Along the same lines, I wonder if you could share your own experiences in dealing with your responsibilities… er, out of the classroom?"

She held me with her stare. "My responsibilities as Head of House and Deputy Headmistress seem rather far afield, Mr. Lockhart."

I chuckled to relieve the tension. "I suppose I am curious to ask how you balance the two roles, but I won't pry." Of course I wanted to pry, but knew it wouldn't go over well. "No, my question was solely about your extra-curricular duties as a teacher of Transfiguration."

"I'd have thought Dumbledore would have spoken of such things during your interview?"

Oh come on, work with me here! "Of course, he outlined the duties, but I was hoping you might share some of your experiences. How to balance various duties, which take the most time, how you fit detentions into your already busy schedule, that sort of thing?"

"Ah." Finally. "Well, taking them in order, I suppose my first piece of advice must be to schedule your time very carefully. As Deputy, I prepare the class schedules for the staff as well as students. You'll be getting yours before the Welcoming Feast, while students get theirs the next morning. Besides classes," she took a deep breath, "you'll be assigned several hours a week for rounds. I'm exempt, but Filius could probably advise you there. Most of the detentions you'll assign get passed to Filch or Pompfrey in the Hospital Wing, but sometimes you'll need to oversee them yourself. I recommend setting aside certain tasks – like cleaning out your classroom and preparing for the next day's lesson – as fodder for detentions. You're expected to take your meals each evening in the Great Hall, though not all of the staff do. Finally, you'll want to remember to give yourself plenty of time each night for grading assignments. Fall behind in your day-to-day tasks, and you'll have a devil of a time catching up."

The cynical part of me wondered if this was why she was so unhelpful to Harry in the series: she was so busy with her many roles that she literally had no time to care about a student's concerns.

The rest of me was just happy to have the information.

She continued, "Of course, most of the faculty set aside time for themselves, usually over the weekend. You'll have full access to the Library, if that's where your tastes lead, and your office has a private Floo if you need to leave the castle."

"Thank you, this is all very helpful." I paused. "Now for the academic side of things. I'm trying to figure out a baseline of what to expect from my students. I've already spoken with Filius about the Charms syllabus. I was hoping you might talk about the subjects you cover in Transfiguration for each year level."

She looked fairly impressed by this question. "Of course, of course." She pursed her lips in thought. "As you know, the emphasis in the early years is basic transformation, starting with inanimate objects that are basically similar, all the way up to animate transformations.

"Ah yes, I recall your demonstration. Raven to water goblet, wasn't it?"

Her smile broadened. "Indeed, though any animal works, it's just a matter of visualization."

"Indeed. Fero Verta was the incantation, if memory serves? It's been a while since I've have to turn a pet into a dinner setting."

She choked a laugh. "Well done, Mr. Lockhart. Of course we are sure to teach untransfiguration to all years as a safety precaution – returning an object to its original state is far less taxing, but no less important. Now, from Third Year on we move up a level of difficulty by adding Switching Spells to our arsenal, and in Fourth Year we begin working with Vanishing. Of course in each of these we begin with simple inanimate objects and progressively increase the complexity and dissimilarity until OWL exams."

"Dissimilarity?"

"Do you not recall? It is one of the key principles of Transfiguration: the more dissimilar two objects are, the greater the magical energy and control required to make the transformation. You really should have paid more attention in class, Mr. Lockhart."

I shook my head, chastened. I probably ought to put more effort into enhancing Lockhart's memories from school.

"Now, it is only after students have proceeded to their NEWTs that we begin to teach them the advanced skills: Human Transfiguration, Conjuration and eventually Animation."

I began, "Forgive me, it's just…. You know I always struggled with theory, but is there a particular reason why the subjects are taught in that order? Such advanced skills seem extraordinarily useful."

"Dear me, Mr. Lockhart! Surely you should know – such skills as Switching and Vanishing require far more magical power than any First or Second Year could manage. We must wait until the adolescence for their cores to mature, you know."

No, I didn't, but then my predecessor was a lazy git. How did I make it into Ravenclaw? "I'm afraid I'd rather forgotten. Thank you for the reminder."

She gazed at me sternly. "You would do well to brush up on such things, young man. You must not overtax your students' magic, lest they suffer magical exhaustion. You wouldn't wish to be subjected to the tender mercies of Madame Pompfrey, would you?"

I paled. Yes, Lockhart had a fair few memories of the Hospital Wing, mostly from Quidditch injuries.

"I see that you remember her. As for the NEWT skills, they are far more temperamental than the rest, so we wait until after OWLs to ensure that any student who learns them is sufficiently proficient. You understand?"

"Yes. Thank you, actually."

"No problem. I hope you'll know what to expect from your students?" I nodded. "So then. What else would you care to discuss?"

"Well," I trailed off, struck by a sudden thought.

"Yes?"

"It's actually more of a personal query, but I can't help but wonder – have you ever taught the Animagus transformation to a student? I remember seeing you change that first class of my first year, and I still remember it with awe."

She smiled wanly. "Unfortunately, Mr. Lockhart, the process is highly regulated by the Ministry. Several of my students have expressed curiosity in the subject, but none succeeded. There are only seven registered animagi in the last century."

"And you are one of them. Most extraordinary."

"Thank you," she said with genuine warmth.

"So how did you pick up the skill?"

"Actually it was the Headmaster who taught me. He held this post during Dippet's tenure, and saw that I was something of a Transfiguration prodigy. We started after I completed my OWLs, and I finally succeeded just before taking my NEWTs. That's how I got my Mastery, in fact. My examiner counted the time I spent with Professor Dumbledore as my apprenticeship, and after I registered at the Ministry, I was sent the notice of my Mastery. It was one of the proudest days of my life."

I waited to let her collect herself. "Thank you for sharing that, Professor. I hope you don't mind another question?"

"No, go on."

"Thanks. I seem to recall covering the theory back in Third Year, but I was wondering if you could tell me some of the common signs for recognizing an animagus, in either form."

She paused. "That's actually a very good question. Most people know that the animal form will often have some sort of mark or distinguishing characteristic derived from the human form – distinctive eye or hair color, permanent scars or disfigurement would all qualify. However, it is not well known that the human form is often affected as well. Facial structure, teeth, and hair are all commonly affected, and cannot be magically altered. I know because I tried: my mouth and eyes were differently proportioned after my first transformation."

"Indeed. So – pardon the hypothetical – how would one set about identifying an animagus if you were not familiar with those distinguishing features?"

She looked at me suspiciously, but answered anyway. "Well, there is the Homorphus Charm, which returns a person back to their human form. That's a safety precaution we teach in Sixth Year when studying human transfiguration. Now, if you're just looking to ensure an animal isn't an animagus, the easiest method is Hominem Revelio. It registers the presence of any human mind, regardless of the body's form."

"Wonderful." I returned my teacup to the service. "Well, thank you for your hospitality. It was a pleasure speaking with you, and I hope to have more such conversations in the future."

"Indeed?" A single imperious eyebrow rose.

"Of course. This is my first time teaching, and while I can try to anticipate my areas of weakness, I have little doubt that within the first week I will seek out more veteran teachers for counsel."

She smiled warmly. Humility was not a quality she expected to see in Lockhart. "Of course. My office is always open to you, though do be so kind as to give me warning in case I'm with a student."

"Of course I shall." I rose. "And here if you'll permit I take my leave." I inclined my head, she returned the gesture, and we left it at that.

I hastened back to Filius' office. At last I had the excuse to deal with Pettigrew. Filius' door was open and I swept through. "You ready to continue?"

It was really quite comical, to contrast how old and decrepit he looked with how spryly he jumped up at my entrance. "Of course. After you?"

"Lockhart Hall!" I called and flames swirled around me.

A few seconds later and he appeared behind me. He immediately started for the pensieve room, "I hope your meeting with Minerva went as well as you'd hoped…" he looked back at me.

I had fallen behind him, appearing deep in thought. It was an act, but I'd had enough time on the walk to make it convincing. Occlumency was so useful. "Sorry. Just thinking…" I trailed off.

"Yes?"

"I'm sure it's nothing, but my conversation with McGonagall reminded me of something."

"What?"

I looked up. "How about I show you?" We arrived at the pensieve, and I quickly copied a brief excerpt from my time at the Burrow.

"Scabbers?"

"The family rat…"

"… How old is it?

"… maybe twelve years now?"

"…Say, I wonder Ron would let me take a gander at it."

"Ronald! ... I say, it must be quite an extraordinary rat… I wondered if you'd be willing to part with it."

"…Three sickles?"

"…Three galleons!"

"Glitzy! Please fetch my money pouch and a cage. … Very good Ronald, and here are your galleons. Glitzy, please bring this cage back to my flat and keep an eye on it – I don't want the rat to escape."

"Glitzy will keep the rat-man as Master says!"

"Pause."

Filius looked at me. "Rat-man? Your elf called it… oh my! You think it could be an animagus?"

"I'm not sure." I lied. "I was asking McGonagall if any of her students had become an animagus like her – she didn't know about James or Sirius, by the way – but what she said about recognizing one in its animal form reminded me of what my elf said. I brushed it off, but now…"

We withdrew from the memory. "Glitzy!"

He popped in. "Yes Master?"

"You remember the caged rat I gave you?"

"Of course Master. Glitzy has fed it and looked after it!"

"Where is it now?"

"Glitzy kept the rat-man in cupboard!"

I was sorely tempted to laugh. How ironic that Peter would briefly share Harry's fate. "Can you bring it – him – here please?"

As Glitzy popped back in with the cage, I was already casting.

"Somnius." Scabbers succumbed to unconsciousness.

I nodded at Filius, and took a deep breath. "Hominem Revelio."

Pinpricks of light shot out of my wand. One to me, one to Filius, and a third – we both breathed as the light moved towards the rat.

Filius sat heavily, "It's true, then. But who…?" He trailed off, deep in thought.

For a minute he examined the rat. Then he gasped and turned to me. "Twelve years, they said?"

Damn he's good!

"Yes, twelve years. Why, what do you see?"

He growled, his goblin hackles rising. "I see a missing finger, that's what."

I played dumb. "Missing finger?"

"Yes." He turned to me. "Yes. A single finger missing, on an animagus who's been hiding for twelve years. Think, Gilderoy! Who did we just learn had made the animagus transformation?"

"James Potter and Sirius Black."

"Exactly, and who else was in their little band?"

I allowed my eyes to widen, "Peter Pettigrew. You think—"

"Peter Pettigrew! Who is presumed to have died twelve years ago! Whose body was supposed to have been consumed by an explosion caused by Sirius Black, leaving behind—"

"A finger," I breathed.

"A finger!" He concluded proudly. "Gilderoy, I'm fairly sure the animagus in front of us is none other than Peter Pettigrew, the hero of—"

There it was.

He paled. "No! But that means…."

Again, I played dumb. "What?"

"Gilderoy," he looked me dead in the eye. "If this means what I think, Sirius Black is innocent."

Now it was my turn to sit heavily, though this information was hardly news for me. "Sirius Black, innocent? All these years? But Dumbledore said—"

In that moment our eyes met, and I knew he had reached the conclusion I had hoped. "Dumbledore!" his voice practically rumbled. I did not envy the Headmaster.

He took a deep breath. "This is beyond either of us. We need to involve Madame Bones."

I nodded. I turned to the table and grabbed a fresh piece of parchment.

Amelia,

An urgent matter has come up. As soon as you find yourself free, please bring a vial of Veritaserum and magic-inhibiting handcuffs and Floo to "Lockhart Hall." I'll key you in. I will be waiting with Professor Filius Flitwick, an ally.

Gilderoy

I waved to Ozymandias. "This is a very urgent letter. You must make sure Amelia gets it and comes straight away. Go!" I propelled him toward the open window.

We only had to wait thirty minutes before a tormented-looking Amelia stepped through the Floo. "Gilderoy," she ground out. "What precisely was your intent in siccing your damned owl on me until I left through the Floo?"

My eyes widened slightly, and Filius burst into laughter. Amelia turned on him. "I'm sorry Amelia, it's just… I thought you were looking a bit hen-pecked, and here it turns out you were just owl-pecked!"

If she were a Veela, I had no doubt fireballs would be a-flying.

I hastily apologized. "Forgive me, I hadn't thought my instructions to Ozymandias would be taken so… literally. I'm afraid I got caught up in the moment."

"Fine. Now what the dickens you wanted to see me for? I brought the potion and manacles, though I don't know—"

"Amelia," Filius interrupted her, his face now grave, "we think we've captured Peter Pettigrew."

That stumped her. "Peter Pettigrew? What…" she turned to him. "What are you on about?"

And so he told her.

By the end Amelia was seething. "So you think Dumbledore may have—"

I cut in for the first time in the conversation. "It makes sense. Sirius Black is Harry Potter's godfather. He would have been the obvious choice to look after Harry after James and Lily died."

Her eyes widened, "Which he couldn't do if he were thrown in Azkaban. You think he would stoop so low?"

Now it was Filius' turn to cut in, "We'll never know unless we ask. You have the serum?"

"Of course."

"Wands out." He turned to the cage. "Alohamora. Mobilicorpus." He summoned the sleeping rat through the now-open door and set him on a chair. "Homorphus on three? One, two—"

The three of us cast together, and in that instant the chair was filled with the mangy form of Peter Pettigrew.

"Mobilicorpus. Incarcerous." Amelia cast twice, keeping Pettigrew's hands locked in front of him, and snapped on the handcuffs. "There, thank you Filius, Gilderoy. Now, let's see what he's hiding." She waved her wand in a complex motion over the prisoner's body – she paused, and nodded in seeming satisfaction when there was no result. She began again, a different series of motions and mutter incantations. This time as she finished something seem to vibrate beneath Pettigrew's outer robes. She tore them apart and gasped.

There in the lining were two wands: the first a gnarled stick of chestnut wood, the other made of polished yew, with a bone handle.

"They never found it at the scene," Amelia breathed as she reached out to touch the Dark Lord's wand.

Another instant and she shook herself. She plucked both out of Peter's cloak, placing them on the table. She turned to us, "Strip him. My charm only detected the one wand, so magical detection may miss anything else he has hidden on him. Finite." The ropes fell apart, and she levitated him out of the chair.

"Diffindo." "Diffindo." We cast cutters on the seams of his clothes, and they came off easily in our hands. Filius was practically gnashing his teeth when he discovered the Dark Mark on Pettigrew's left arm: faded it may be, but without a doubt identifiable.

Finally, Amelia returned Pettigrew to the chair and conjured clothes to cover him. "Incarcerous. He's secure. Potion first, or wake him now?"

I shrugged, "Your call."

Filius growled, "Wake him first. I want him to see how deep the shit he's stepped in."

Amelia grinned maliciously. "Ennervate."

The captive's eyes rolled open, his nose twitched, and he looked at each of us in turn. For a few seconds no one spoke, but then he noticed his very human arms locked in front of him. "What—!" He looked back at us, suddenly realizing he was bound in his human form in front of the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

A light dawned somewhere in his head.

Before he could speak Filius grasped him by the neck and pulled his head backwards, holding his jaw open. "Amelia?"

She took out the vial and dumped its contents in his mouth. Filius pushed his jaw back and pinched Pettigrew's nose, forcing him to swallow. His eyes lost focus, and his expression became somehow vacant.

Amelia began the interrogation. "My name is Amelia Bones, acting in my capacity as Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. This memory will be delivered and certified for the Auror Investigative Department. What is your name?"

"Peter Parker Pettigrew."

I nearly choked at hearing at his middle name. Seriously?

"When were you born?"

"The 15th of February, 1961."

Filius cut in. "Who was the Secret-Keeper for the Potter's residence in Godric's Hallow?"

"I was."

Amelia's eyebrows shot through the roof. "Wasn't Sirius Black the Secret-Keeper?"

"No."

She tried again. "Why wasn't Black the Secret-Keeper?"

"James wanted him to be, but Sirius felt he was too obvious a choice. He said no one would ever suspect they'd trust me with such a task." Even in a potion-induced haze, his resentment at Black came through loud and clear.

"Why did everyone believe Black was the Secret Keeper?"

"But we told them he was."

"We?"

"Everyone there when the decision was made."

I cut in impatiently, "Who was present when the decision was made?"

"James Potter, Lily Potter, Sirius Black, Albus Dumbledore."

Amelia seethed, "Dumbledore knew?"

"Yes."

Filius decided to help her, "Why was Dumbledore involved in the discussion?"

"He cast the Charm."

Amelia exploded, "Then why did he send Sirius to Azkaban?"

"I…" for the first time Peter hesitated. "I know not."

Filius caught his slip. "You suspect something?"

"Yes."

"What do you suspect?"

"That Dumbledore imprisoned Sirius because otherwise he would have been the Potter brat's guardian."

"Why would Dumbledore care about that?"

"Even before the Potters' death, Dumbledore seemed particularly interested in the Potter boy's fate."

I cut in, "Do you know why Harry Potter caught his attention?"

Peter seemed to resign himself. "A few days after the battle at Dunhill Farm, Dumbledore took James and Lily aside. They never told me, but I overheard James tell Sirius that Harry might be the subject of the prophecy, and that they'd decided to go into hiding."

Amelia held up her hand to stop my next question. "Do you know what the prophecy says?"

"No."

"Did you hear anything else about the prophecy?"

"Only that it might apply to another infant."

"What infant?"

"Neville Longbottom."

Amelia paused in thought. "What would connect a prophecy to one of those two boys?"

"I…" Peter stopped. "They were born several hours apart in the same ward at St. Mungo's."

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Amelia taking notes, so I stepped up. "Where did you hear that the prophecy might apply to Neville Longbottom?"

"From the Dark Lord."

Amelia and Filius gasped. I pressed on, "When did you hear this from the Dark Lord?"

"When I told him of the conversation I overheard."

Filius looked outraged, "So you told him the prophecy!"

"No."

Filius hadn't expected that. "No?"

"No, I wasn't the one who told him about the prophecy?"

I cut in, "So who did?"

"I was not told."

"So the Dark Lord knew of the prophecy before you spoke to him?"

"Yes."

"How do you know this?"

"He expected the Potters to go into hiding after the battle at Dunhill Farm, and mentioned the prophecy as the reason. That's when he mentioned the Longbottom boy, as that family had gone into hiding for the same reason shortly after the Ceredigion raid earlier that year."

Amelia's scribbling intensified. Filius and I glanced at each other as we gathered our thoughts.

"So. You are a Death Eater?"

"Yes."

"For how long have you been a Death Eater?"

"Since the Imbolc Revel, early February, the year after I graduated Hogwarts."

I scanned Lockhart's memories. "The Imbolc… Revel?"

"The Dark Lord follows the old traditions. He welcomed the spring with a fertility offering."

Uh oh. "A fertility off—"

Amelia cut in, "Gilderoy you don't—"

Before either of us could finish, Peter answered. "He commanded each of his Inner Circle to sacrifice one of the virgin muggle girls he had captured. The rest of us watched." He sounded almost proud.

I felt sick to my stomach. Filius was the one to speak. "So you watched as they raped these girls."

"Yes."

"How old were they?"

Damn Filius, must you? "They all looked to be between 14 and 18."

"And what happened to them?"

"Afterwards he ordered the new recruits to torture them and slit their throats." Peter moved as if to raise his arm. "That's how I earned my Mark."

Though her eyes were clouded in rage, Amelia was still scribbling like mad. Peter's testimony was a fount of information, especially considering I doubt any of the captured Death Eaters would have been subjected to Veritaserum. Malfoy's bribes and the Minister's corruption would have seen to it.

"Is that how all Death Eaters won their Mark?"

Peter thought, "Some were rewarded with the Mark for feats in battle or on special occasions. Most of the recruits received it during on the Revels, however."

I finally pulled myself together. "How long had you been in the Dark Lord's service before taking your Mark?"

"Since December 14th of the previous year."

"What happened that day?"

"I was abducted from Knockturn Alley and brought before the Dark Lord. I was given a choice, to either die or serve him as a spy. I chose to live."

Filius queried, "Why didn't you tell the Order, or any of your friends?"

"I felt they wouldn't protect me."

Filius was about to press on, but Amelia cut him off. "Wait: couldn't, or wouldn't?"

"Wouldn't."

"Why wouldn't they?"

"Because none of them respected me! None of them saw me as anything but a lackey, a bootlicker!" Even under truth serum, his anguish came out.

"Is that why you gave your allegiance to the Dark Lord?"

"Yes, he respected me, he gave me his power. He trusted me, trusted me to spy for him, to do his bidding." Even under truth serum, he honestly believed it. It sounded almost like Stockholm Syndrome—

"Did the Dark Lord ever put you under the Cruciatus?"

His chin jutted up, "No, not once, though he often let me watch him punish his less faithful servants when they failed him."

That's it, then. The Wizarding world may not understand psychology, but Tom Riddle certainly did. Perhaps it was because he was raised in a muggle orphanage. Still, the Dark Lord's mind tricks would not save Peter Pettigrew from facing justice.

Amelia started gathering her notes. One last thought struck me. "You said you were abducted from Knockturn Alley – what were you doing there in the first place?"

"I was pawning off some of the silver I'd taken from Potter Manor."

Even after all I'd heard, I was still surprised to hear Peter confess to petty theft. On the other hand, it fit the profile: a weak individual latching onto a powerful one (and trading 'masters' as circumstances changed), starting with small wrongs before they led up to bigger ones, so long as there was opportunity, pressure, and some way to rationalize it. The Fraud Triangle applies to all sorts of crimes.

After waiting several seconds, Amelia took out her wand. "I think we've got enough for now. Somnius. Filius, I take it you're oathbound?" He nodded. "Good. Can you transfigure him back to his rat form? With the magic-locking manacles and a reinforced cage, I doubt he'd be a flight risk. I'll keep him at my house, if you don't mind. That way I'll have access to him if we have further questions."

She looked at me as though it were a request. It was good to see her take charge like this. "Of course. I'll warrant your house'd be safer than mine."

"Right. I'll share the memory with Hestia so she can start her investigation. I'll have her pull up the records on Sirius Black. We need to figure out how he was sent to Azkaban, when he was innocent of the Potter's betrayal." Her lips curled back in a grimace that was almost a grin. "I don't imagine the Headmaster will be too pleased to learn we're making inquiries. We'll have to keep this under wraps, at least until we figure out what Dumbledore's game is."

Filius looked as if he were about to say something, but shook his head and bade Amelia farewell. After gathering her things and her wayward rat, she left through the Floo, calling out: "The Ossuary!"

Huh.

Is that a thing for purebloods? Weasels live in a burrow. Bones get sent to an ossuary. Lovegoods live in a rookery - that is, a breeding ground. What's next, should I be expecting the Floo address for Potter Manor to actually be "The Kiln"?

Filius turned to me after she had disappeared through the flames. "I didn't want to say it in front of her, but given Dumbledore's involvement in this, I very much doubt that legal channels will suffice to get Mr. Black out of Azkaban any time soon."

I caught the word he had emphasized. "'Legal' channels?"

He nodded meaningfully. "You know how dementors affect them. Black will need time to recover before he'll be in any position to take care of Harry Potter, and we need him to get the kid away from his abusive relatives. If legal channels can't do it…"

I finished, "We just might stage a jailbreak."

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