Chapter 2

June 24, 1995

Harry's mind had been spinning since he first heard his mother's voice, and after what must have been weeks of traditional time, it wasn't getting any easier to truly process everything. But he had been intentional about enjoying his time here, and he was at peace in a way he never expected. A gust of wind blew through his hair and he closed his eyes, soaking up the sun, his broom cruising lazily underneath him.

"Alright there, Harry?" James called from somewhere behind him.

"I'm great, Dad. Just committing this to memory."

James flew to Harry's side and smiled at his son, though his expression quickly turned mischievous.

"Race you back!" he called over his shoulder, already rocketing towards where Lily was sitting against a tree, watching her boys.

Harry shook his head with a chuckle, his father's childishness had been fun to experience. He took off after the man, his nondescript broom reacting to his desire for top speed. The brooms here may not be Firebolts, but they were incredible. Best his dad could figure, they performed at a level to match their rider's skill. And unfortunately for James, Harry was a demon in the air.

Son quickly caught father, and with a slight bump to James' left foot, sent the elder Potter spinning. Harry laughed aloud, hearing his dad swearing in frustration, and quickly slowed as he neared his mother.

"Hey Mum," he said with a bright smile, his hair unkempt and wind-blown.

"You scare a decade off me every time you fly, you know."

"That's not much of a deterrent here, Mum," he responded with a grin, flopping to the ground next to her.

"You're just like your father," she said with a mock glare that eventually turned into a smile as he bumped her shoulder.

"I'm going to beat you eventually, kid," James interrupted, landing next to his family.

"Dad, even if time is endless here, I don't think you have enough."

James couldn't stop the laugh that escaped and gave up his mock pout. He sat on Lily's other side, kissing her on the cheek as he did so.

That was something Harry had loved to see. His parents were still very much in love, and showed it in so many little ways. The only example of married life he had experienced to this degree was his aunt and uncle, and thankfully, they weren't very affectionate. At first, he was slightly uncomfortable with the constant touching from his parents. His dad would often throw his arm around Harry's shoulder as they walked, and his mom pulled him into a hug, or held his hand, with increasing frequency.

He grew used to it though, and even began initiating the contact he had craved so much as a child. It felt like a part of him had been missing, and the time with his parents, and their obvious love for him, filled that void.

"Harry," James began, with a slight hesitation. "I'd like to introduce you to someone."

"Okay," the boy replied, somewhat wary. "Are they family?"

"Distantly. His name's Arcturus, and he's actually Sirius' grandfather. We're related, but that's not why I think you should meet him."

James sent a pointed look to his wife who sighed with acceptance before he continued.

"We've gone back and forth on whether or not we think you should learn from him, but I believe the rewards outweigh the risk."

"What sort of risk are we talking about?"

Harry wasn't an easy person to intimidate, but his parents' reluctance gave him pause. James seemed to struggle to find the words, and Lily stepped in to help.

"I only met him a few times before his death, and to me, he seemed like a very sweet old man. He didn't mention my blood-status, or seem to care that a Potter had married a muggleborn. But his reputation is much darker."

"He was the head of the Black family for almost 70 years," James picked up. "And he essentially ran the Wizengamot for 50, before passing his seat to his daughter when she asked him to. He was known as a vicious politician, and rumors swirled about how he handled those who got on his bad side. He never outright supported or denied Voldemort, but he let his family choose where they would each place their allegiance.

"He did, however, fight with my great-uncle Charlus against Grindelwald in the 40s. The pair were close friends and brilliant soldiers."

"He's going to teach me to fight?"

"Maybe, but he's asked to teach you about the Wizengamot."

"I'm pretty sure, not ten seconds ago, you mentioned his viciousness in that area," Harry said confusedly.

"I did," James conceded. "And I want you to learn it."

Harry, unsure of how to respond, stood and paced back and forth. It had become a habit of his, while he took time to think over things of import. His parents were silent, allowing the boy time to ruminate.

"If someone doesn't change the way the government has been running, even if I somehow kill Voldemort, someone else will step into that void." Harry, thinking out loud, didn't notice the look of pride on his father's face. "And from what I've heard from Hermione, the bigotry in the Wizarding World is relentless."

Harry turned to his mother, determination in his eyes. "Did you have trouble getting a job after school?"

"I was lucky, Harry," she responded. "We were in the middle of a war, and I wanted to be a Healer. They were taking anyone and everyone they could at St. Mungo's. I trained and worked for almost two years, before I grew too uncomfortable in my pregnancy. But we had friends who were turned away from Ministry jobs due to blood status, and I'm sure you know how hard it has been for Remus."

Harry, feeling a bit guilty for not immediately thinking of the werewolf, nodded. "And Fleur, from the tournament, had to deal with ignorance and hatred all year."

"There are marginalized people all over the world, Harry," his father agreed. "It's not your job to fix everything, but it will take people in your position to do so."

Harry felt the responsibility settle on his shoulders, and nodded. "Then I'd like to meet Arcturus."

"No time like the present," James said while standing.

—

As they approached the large Manor, Harry took in the very impressive fountain and surrounding garden. A statue sat atop the fountain of two wizards fighting back to back, fierce looks on their faces. James approached the door, which opened before he could knock, and Harry followed his father into the house.

"In the library," a deep voice called from a room further into the very impressive foyer.

James led the way, and Harry soon saw two men sitting in comfortable armchairs, drinks in hand. James had explained on their way to the Manor, that this place allowed each person the body they felt strongest in during their lives.

"Uncle Charlus. Arcturus," James said with a nod to both men as he entered. "I'd like to introduce my son, Harry."

The two took their time looking over the boy, making him feel supremely uncomfortable. He took a steadying breath, straightened his posture, and spoke confidently.

"It's a pleasure to meet you both."

The man James indicated as Charlus nodded sharply in response. "Thank you, James. I'll make sure he gets home when we are finished."

James, not pleased with the dismissal, hesitated. Before he could respond, Arcturus spoke up firmly.

"Relax, Potter. I know exactly what the boy has in store, and I plan to prepare him for it. I'll make sure he returns to you happy and healthy."

James eventually nodded and clapped his son on the back before exiting the room. The door closed behind him, and Harry took a moment to examine his new acquaintances.

Charlus Potter was an average-sized man, handsome, in his late 30s or early 40s. He had the traditional black Potter hair, and wore rectangular glasses with gold frames. He was dressed in clothes that would have been considered antiques in Harry's world, pin-striped brown suit pants and a matching vest over a white oxford shirt. A gold pocket watch's chain hung from his vest pocket.

Arcturus appeared to be of a similar age, but was a surprisingly tall and well-built man. His black hair was swept back, and his gray suit looked to be made of the finest material. Harry noticed that Sirius inherited his gray eyes from the man, but didn't really bear much of a resemblance otherwise. A slowly smoldering cigar sat in an ashtray on the desk the man sat behind.

"Harry James Potter," the Black patriarch mused. "Your uncle and I have seen some of your life so far. You have my thanks for assisting my idiot grandson."

"Sirius deserved my help, sir," Harry replied, willing his voice to remain strong. "It's been great to get to know him."

"He's a moron who pissed his life away," the man responded sharply. Harry bristled at the tone, but the older man continued before he could be interrupted. "He's a strong wizard, no doubt, and a decent man, but he acts without thinking and his impetuousness cost him the best years of his life, and his reputation."

"Maybe so," Harry responded coolly. "But his actions were out of love for my parents and myself. Something I believe should be praised, not ridiculed."

The silence lay thick after Harry's words, and the boy wondered if he may have ruined his chance to learn from the man. If so, he'd be disappointed, but he would defend his loved ones in all circumstances. He could find another tutor.

Arcturus, his eyes boring into Harry's, finally broke the silence. "Maybe you're right, boy. And if not, at least you believe it. That will serve you well."

"Harry," Charlus cut in from his chair, gesturing Harry into the one next to him. "What do you know of the Wizengamot, and your responsibilities to it."

"Very little. Dad told me the Potters have a hereditary seat, but not much else. He said that with the chaos of the war, his experience wasn't exactly a good basis for what my role will look like."

"I think he's wrong about that," Charlus argued. "His short time in the seat was spent dealing with one crisis after another, something I think you'll also experience."

"When you return…" Arcturus began.

"If I return," Harry interrupted stubbornly, not willing to let anyone make decisions for him.

Arcturus snorted in derision. "After your praise for my grandson's mistakes made out of love, you expect us to believe you'll not to do the same? Let's all be honest with ourselves, Mr. Potter. You will return. And you will do everything in your power to end the nonsense in your world.

"And when you return," the man continued snidely. "You will need every avenue of power available to you. I will teach you how to get it."

"Fine," Harry responded after a moment of thought. "I would appreciate learning from you. Though, I haven't the slightest idea of how to be a politician."

Arcturus nodded slowly, an evil smirk spreading slowly across his face.

"Neither did I, my boy. But I learned to improvise."

As Harry reached the Wizengamot chamber with Professor Dumbledore and a still-unconscious Pettigrew, many members were already present. Nobody seemed too miffed by the session being called, and most seemed like they hadn't yet been to bed. While they waited for the doors to open and admit them, Harry chatted with a few members who had approached to congratulate him on his performance in the Tournament. Dumbledore disappeared down a corridor with the floating animagus in tow, drawing weird looks before the members wrote it off to his eccentricity.

"I was there for the second task," said Robert Boot, after introducing himself. "Well done and all that, but whose idea was it for us to sit and watch an undisturbed lake for over an hour? Not the most thrilling of events."

"I believe that would be Mr. Bagman," Harry said chuckling. "Or the late Mr. Crouch, perhaps. You didn't miss anything tonight, either. Whole thing took place in a maze."

"You should have gone to the first," cut in a man Harry thought he recognized. "It was a much better show, and young Potter here might just be the best flier I've seen outside of the World Cup."

The neutral man offered his hand, and Harry took it. He noticed the man's grip was firm, but not intimidating. He was over six feet tall, trim and strong, and had incredibly bright blue eyes. Harry trusted him immediately, but knew better than to trust that instinct.

"Daniel Greengrass," the man introduced himself solemnly.

"Harry Potter, sir. Do you have a daughter at Hogwarts by chance?"

"Two in fact," Daniel's eyes lit up slightly at the thought of his daughters, but he retained his composure. "Daphne is your age, and Astoria- two years younger. Both Slytherin."

"I'm afraid I don't know either of them well," Harry said diplomatically.

"My boy Terry is in your year as well," Robert Boot mentioned. "In Ravenclaw."

"Terry I do know! He's the one chasing Hermione for top of the class every year."

"Aye, that's him," Robert responded with a chuckle. "He's determined to catch her next year."

"I wish him luck then, Mr. Boot," Harry responded with a smile, his pride in his friend evident. "Hermione is something else. She could teach the classes if she wanted to."

"Terry has said much the same," Robert shrugged. Looking back towards the hallway they arrived from, his eyes widened slightly. "Harry, I should warn you- those of us in the Faithful Eight seats have a title. Technically, the two of us are Lords, and Narcissa Malfoy is Lady Black. Most of us would rather forget about it, but Narcissa and Corban Yaxley throw fits if their title isn't used."

"Narcissa sits in the Black seat?" Harry asked quietly.

"She does," Boot answered, matching Harry's tone. "But we all know she's a front for her husband. All that 'Sacred Twenty-Eight' nonsense has given him delusions of grandeur."

"Lucius?" Harry asked, feigning shock. "Surely not."

Boot chuckled. "I tend to treat it as a joke, but it's honestly just easier letting them preen."

"Fair enough," Harry said with a smirk. "Is it possible for one of you to sit down with me to go through things like this which might trip me up? I plan to take my seat soon, and would hate to look a fool." Harry knew what the response would be, but needed to make it seem sincere.

"That would be Daniel's area of expertise," Boot responded quickly. "He's a lawyer by trade, and knows our charter by heart. I'll leave you to it," he said, extending a hand once more that Harry shook. The man walked away, leaving Harry and Lord Greengrass to speak privately.

"A lawyer, Lord Greengrass," Harry repeated. "Why did I assume everyone on the Wizengamot simply lived off family money?"

"Because you're an intelligent young man, and please, call me Daniel when it's just us. Most families are content to let their money make money. Using the goblins to invest is very profitable when you have enough. I, unfortunately, do not have a disposition that allows me to sit on my thumb all day."

"Neither do I," Harry agreed with a grin. "Would you mind if I imposed on you for a few lessons? I'd be happy to pay your normal rate."

"Nonsense, Mr. Potter. It's my duty as an 'elder statesman', and one I'd be happy to fulfill. I thought a lot of your father."

Harry feigned ignorance, though his Dad had spoken about his friendship with the man.

"Thank you, sir. I'll reach out once I'm free of school and settled in for the summer."

He shook Lord Greengrass' hand once more, confident he was on his way to making a couple of allies in the Wizengamot.

"Do so as soon as possible, Harry," the man responded less formally. "I'm a lawyer, remember? I have a sneaking suspicion I know exactly why you're with us tonight."

He left with a knowing smirk, and Harry took a moment to compose himself. Even with the best tutors and training possible, it was easy to forget he didn't have control over everything. Hopefully the mercurial Greengrass wouldn't throw a wrench in his plans this evening.

Soon after, the doors to the Wizengamot chambers creaked open, and the members slowly made their way to their usual seats. Harry, knowing he wasn't a member quite yet, sat in the visitors' gallery with a few reporters. Luckily, things got underway before the reporters could make their way over to him.

"I, Albus Dumbledore, call this emergency session into action, the 24th day of June, in the year 1995. Before we begin, does anyone have anything pressing they need to express?"

Harry watched as Lucius Malfoy immediately stood from his seat in the elected member section, his face showing the scorn he felt for this meeting. Albus acknowledged him, and the man spread his arms wide, trying to elicit a feeling of comradery for his argument.

"Ladies and gentlemen of the Wizengamot," he began smugly. "I only question the necessity for this session. It is nearing midnight, and we were pulled from our beds at the whim of the Chief Warlock. Clearly anything he has to say could have waited until the morning…"

"Thank you, Lucius," Dumbledore interrupted before the man could pontificate further. "I called this session for a reason which I am sure you will all find just. Once we get into the matter, if there are any who wish to question the cause, I'll be sure to give them time to do so."

Harry fought a grin, as Dumbledore glared Lucius into his seat. He had been briefed on the power the Malfoy's held in this chamber. Their money, and the fact that they held two votes of the total fifty, made them a force to be reckoned with. Apparently, Dumbledore wasn't one to be cowed, however.

"Anything else?" the Chief Warlock asked.

As Harry moved to stand and declare his intention to assume his seat among them, he was beaten to it by none other than Daniel Greengrass. Surprised, to say the least, Harry retook his seat and listened closely.

"Ladies and Gentlemen," Lord Greengrass started seriously. "The timing of this session is fortuitous. We have, in our midst, a young man I feel is capable and prepared to assume his seat. As he has been declared an adult by our government, I now ask Harry James Potter if he is prepared to take his family seat within our Faithful Eight."

Lord Greengrass sat, avoiding looking in Harry's direction, and pandemonium reigned. Fudge, from his position next to Dumbledore, was spluttering incoherently, eventually turning to whisper urgently to those around him. The elected member section of the chamber seemed divided, and argued amongst themselves loudly. The only members that hadn't moved a muscle were Dumbledore, Greengrass, and surprisingly, Narcissa Malfoy, who was staring at Harry with a question in her eyes.

After firing a cannon blast spell from his wand, Dumbledore regained the floor. "Regardless of your feelings on the matter, if Mr. Potter is truly seen by magic as an adult, he is allowed to take his family's seat."

The pandemonium returned, Fudge and Lucius' voices among the loudest. Eventually, Fudge gained the floor, and took a breath to prepare his argument.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, I appreciate what Lords Greengrass and Dumbledore are trying to achieve here. The Potter family seat has sat vacant too long, but I shudder at the damage adding an underage wizard to our body would do to the young man's already fragile psyche. Young Harry is not, by any means, considered an adult by our government, and I believe we will have to wait a few more years before counting him among us. Those years will be beneficial without a doubt, as Mr. Potter has proven himself immature as recently as this very evening."

Fudge sat, basking in the applause from a handful of people. None more vehement than a witch of middling years, smiling adoringly, seated in the elected section. Harry took a careful mental note of those applauding before standing. The assembled witches and wizards quickly quieted, giving Harry the chance to speak.

"Ladies and Gentlemen of the Wizengamot, I thank you for allowing me to respond to the very gracious invitation from Lord Greengrass. I've only met the man this evening, but I've found him to be a conscientious thinker and a serious man." Harry paused as a few members nodded in agreement.

"I do intend to take my seat, as I believe a younger voice would be beneficial to this Chamber. Our youth will drive our future, and I'm lucky to have met some of your children. Rest assured, that future is in their very capable hands. To Minister Fudge's claims that I am not considered an adult; is there not a way to test that theory? Some manner of showing if I am deemed fit?"

Harry knew the answer to his question, but thought it better to show a bit of ignorance.

"There is a simple test, Mr. Potter," Lady Amelia Bones spoke from her seat. "All that is required is to place the Potter family ring on your finger. The shape it takes will tell us if magic deems you the Lord of the family."

"Thank you Lady Bones," Harry responded with a respectful nod. "In that case, I ask for a chance to prove I rightfully deserve to take my seat."

As the assembled body once again split, talking amongst their own factions, Dumbledore called on the power of the Chamber to retrieve the Potter family ring, beckoning Harry down to the floor of the room. As he reached the older man, Harry noticed a twinkle in his eye and the barest of winks. Harry gave him the ghost of a smile, and stood, waiting for silence again. Before he received it, Fudge tried one more time.

"This is a mockery of this Chamber," he declared. "This boy is but a fourth year at Hogwarts! And a known liar to boot! I won't stand for this! As the Minister for Magic, I hereby…"

Before Fudge could hereby do anything, he was interrupted by another cannon blast from Dumbledore.

"Mr. Fudge," he snapped, stressing the title. "You overstep and overreach. Your power lies within the government itself, and you have but one vote in this Chamber. Here, I am the Minister, and you, a subject. If you even think of attempting another similar outburst, I will immediately call for the aurors to remove you for unruly behavior. Do I make myself clear?"

Dumbledore's entire essence was practically vibrating with magic as he finished verbally slapping down the 'most powerful wizard' in Britain. Without waiting for a response from the now flushed Minister, Albus stepped towards Harry.

"When you don this ring, Harry," he said just loud enough to be heard throughout the room. "It will resize and reshape to fit your finger. There are distinct differences in the form it will take for the Lord of the family and for an heir apparent, and those differences are clear enough that all can tell. The magic will not accept you as the Lord if you are not considered of age, or if someone else has a better claim to the House. Do you understand?"

"I do, sir," Harry nodded confidently.

"Then take the ring, Mr. Potter, and show us if you shall be joining this hallowed assembly."

Harry took the ring from his Headmaster, feeling the surprising heft of it in his hand. It looked like it was made of True Silver, with various etchings around the band. 'Novissima autem inimica destruetur mors' was etched on the inside, which Harry knew from his tutoring as the family motto. The face of the ring held a large, pristinely cut ruby, which seemed to shine a bit unnaturally from the inside.

Taking a deep breath, and unwilling to drag this nonsense on any longer, Harry donned the ring. As soon as it touched the ring finger of his right hand, the band resized to fit, and the ruby within shone brightly. Dumbledore glanced at the ring before grabbing Harry's hand, raising it for all to see.

"I hereby welcome Lord Harry James Potter to the Wizengamot, as the true Lord of the Potter family. I ask that everyone stand as he takes his seat for the first time."

Albus smiled at Harry before gesturing the boy up to his vacant seat. Everyone gathered stood, but a little less than half of the members refused to applaud as the rest did. It didn't matter to Harry one whit and he took his seat proudly, thinking of his father and his tutor, Lord Black.

"Now that we have that taken care of," Dumbledore spoke after retaking his seat. "I ask that we move forward to the reason I called you all here tonight. Earlier this evening, a great tragedy occurred. As I'm sure you've noticed, Mr. Diggory is not in his usual seat. The reason for his absence is that his son has been murdered."

Cries of outrage filled the Chamber, each member feeling the loss in their own ways. Once they quieted, Dumbledore continued.

"Cedric's death, tragic as it is, serves as a stark warning that Evil walks among us still. The young man had all the potential in the world, and was even a co-victor of the Triwizard Tournament this evening, with Lord Potter. I doubt any among us, or your children would have a bad word to say of Cedric, but he was struck down nonetheless. I don't believe the time is right to get into exactly how young Cedric's life was stolen from us, but there are events that have happened that require immediate action.

"In Ministry custody at this moment is one Bartemius Crouch Jr.. He is being held on charges of escaping the confinement of Azkaban, and the kidnap and impersonation of retired auror Alastor Moody. He is also the prime suspect in the disappearance of Bartemius Crouch Sr., his father."

Dumbledore paused, allowing his captive audience a chance to express their shock. Harry couldn't help but respect the man's skills as an orator.

"His trial will take place in a timely manner, and we hope to discover exactly how he escaped, and what his intentions were. He was not, however, the only wizard that returned to us this evening. I'm speaking of Peter Oliver Pettigrew, who many of you saw just a few minutes ago."

The Chamber again broke out in whispers, and Fudge even went so far as to stand and move to where Lucius held court, with members making room for him to sit next to Malfoy.

"If our history is to be believed, Peter is a hero returned to us. A man who confronted an Evil such as Cedric did, and fought valiantly. If this is the case, he needs to be celebrated! If the truth is something different, we must investigate his return. This is why I called the session tonight."

Albus sat quickly, knowing that an uproar was inevitable. Harry sat calmly, watching as the gathered factions quickly began speaking amongst themselves. His eyes found Fudge and Malfoy, and he grinned at how pale the pair had become. Eventually, Lucius stood, having apparently been nominated to be the voice of his faction.

"Chief Warlock, if I may," he began smoothly. "Pettigrew's return is certainly a surprise to all of us, but I wonder if calling him to stand before us is the right course of action. Clearly, the man has been through more than any of us know, and we may be adding insult to injury here."

Lucius sat to a smattering of applause from his group, and from Corban Yaxley, who sat a few seats to Harry's left. Harry waited a breath to see if anyone else would respond, before sighing and standing himself.

"Mr. Malfoy, your empathy is legendary," the boy began, sounding sincere. "I'm sure Mr. Pettigrew will be appreciative, but I hesitate to dismiss what he could tell us. Clearly the return of two wizards in the same night is cause for concern, and perhaps Pettigrew could help us to understand. Merely speaking to the man shouldn't be too taxing on him."

He knew claiming the man killed Cedric at this moment would be too much for the Chamber to bear, and withheld the information. Harry sat, as many nodded thoughtfully in his direction. Lucius appeared to concede, and Dumbledore motioned for Pettigrew to be brought into the Chamber.

The man was still unconscious, and the trusted auror escort carefully placed him in a chair provided by the Chief Warlock. Before he was enervated, Dumbledore addressed the assembled body.

"Unfortunately for Mr. Pettigrew, he was on the wrong end of some accidental magic from Lord Potter after the final task of the Triwizard Tournament. Through meticulous research, I discovered the spell to be a very old way of dispensing Judgment of sorts. The only person capable of releasing the spell is the caster, and I have instructed Lord Potter on how to do so. Before we wake Mr. Pettigrew, I will ask Lord Potter to join me on the floor in order to end the spell."

To a chorus of nodding heads, Harry once more descended to the floor of the Chamber. At Dumbledore's gesture, Harry reversed his spell, and Pettigrew seemed to relax a bit in the chair. As Harry retook his seat, Albus removed the other spells on the wizard, and screams immediately filled the chamber.

Pettigrew's eyes darted frantically as he took in his surroundings, eventually calming enough to be silent. The eyes settled upon Lucius, and everyone could see the plea in them, Lucius quickly reddening and looking away. Dumbledore allowed the awkward moment to be burned into the memory of everyone present, and finally broke the silence.

"Mr. Pettigrew, do you remember what led to your attendance here this evening?"

Pettigrew, tears in his eyes, shook his head in the negative.

"Do you know the result of the Judgment spell you have been hit with?"

Pettigrew was still for a moment, before slowly nodding.

"And what is that result, if you would be so kind?" Dumbledore asked gently.

The rat was silent for thirty seconds, eyes still darting around the Chamber. Finally, he caught sight of Harry, and his composure shattered.

"My magic is gone," he whispered, sobbing.

The Wizengamot again descended into chaos, the members outraged that such a thing was possible. Albus allowed the conversation to continue for a few minutes before calling for attention again.

"And what exactly led to the loss of your magic?"

Pettigrew shook his head and remained silent.

"Peter, we are gathered to right any wrongs done to you. Could you please tell us what your memory is, if not of tonight, perhaps of the night of James and Lily Potter's deaths?"

Again, a shake of the head was Peter's only response.

"Very well, sir. We will, of course, see what St. Mungo's can do for you, and hope for the best on your recovery."

Harry knew this was where his plan could fall apart, and closed his eyes and wished for another member of the Wizengamot to raise the concern. As unnecessary and backwards as the stipulation seemed, Harry couldn't be seen flouting procedure on his first day in his seat.

It took a very long five seconds, before Dumbledore acknowledged a member from the elected section. "Mrs. Johnson, you are recognized."

Mrs. Johnson was an ancient witch, appearing to predate Dumbledore by a couple decades at least. She stood with the assistance of a cane and took a breath.

"When you've lived as long as I have, you learn to trust your gut. My gut is telling me something isn't right here. I propose Mr. Pettigrew be dosed with Veritaserum, so we can better understand the nature of what has happened this evening, and any potential wrongdoing on Halloween, 1981."

"I second the motion," was the quick response.

Not from Harry, as he had planned, but from Robert Boot. The Chamber again erupted into whispers, as Harry sat back in his chair feeling more and more superfluous.

"The motion is recognized, and Veritaserum will be administered," said Albus, now returned to his seat. "I ask that Madame Bones be the one to question the witness, and any questions be directed through her as the Director of the MLE. We will focus on Halloween of '81 before moving to the happenings earlier this evening."

Amelia nodded her agreement, as an auror brought in the required potion. The customary three drops were administered as the collected Wizengamot continued talking frantically amongst themselves.

"What is your name?" Amelia questioned above the din.

"Peter Oliver Pettigrew," the rat answered, voice and face devoid of emotion.

"Mr. Pettigrew, you have been believed dead for a number of years. Where have you been?"

"Hiding from Sirius Black and Remus Lupin."

Fudge looked victorious at the answer, but Malfoy looked pale as death. Harry knew the man was aware of what could come from this, and was positive the slimy git was thinking of possible solutions.

"Why would you be hiding from two former friends?"

"Because they would kill me."

"Why would Remus Lupin want to kill you?" Amelia asked, confused.

"Be… because…" Pettigrew stuttered, clearly trying to fight the potion. "Because I betrayed the Potters and framed Sirius Black for my death."

The answer led to sheer panic in the Chamber. Harry heard Lady Longbottom gasp in shock, as did many others.. Fudge was shouting, but not loudly enough to be understood over the chaos. Lucius was gesturing wildly to Amelia, trying to get her attention. Another cannon blast sounded, and the body quickly froze.

"Ladies and Gentlemen," Dumbledore said firmly. "I understand the importance of this testimony, and the emotional effect it has already had. But please, retain your decorum. Any questions need to be asked through Lady Bones as previously stated, and I, as Chief Warlock, will confirm or deny the questions proposed."

Lucius stood seeking permission to speak, and received it.

"My esteemed colleagues, I believe it is simply too late in the evening to go through this testimony. Emotions and tensions are high, and this is a heartbreaking moment of our history we are talking about. To lose two young people, so full of potential, destroyed us as a community in a lot of ways. We need to broach this subject with fresh eyes and ears, after a period of reflection."

Harry watched as the man made eye contact with certain members throughout the room. Each time, the member immediately began nodding in agreement after the look. It was clear that Malfoy held much of the membership in his pocket, and if brought to a vote, might have enough to end the investigation. Something Harry would not stand for. Ironically, he stood.

"Mr. Malfoy, I understand if you are too tired to hear this testimony. Having come directly from Hogwarts, where you attempted to gain custody of Pettigrew, must have made today a long one for you."

Harry paused, allowing the assembly to remember that Malfoy claimed to be woken up by the summons. The man in question glared hatefully at the boy without pretense, which he ignored before continuing.

"I would suggest that any member too sleepy to proceed is welcome to leave. Far be it from us, those who would know the truth about my parents' betrayal, to keep you from your warm bed." Harry allowed his anger to creep into his voice, pinning the ridiculous man with his gaze. "I, for one, will sacrifice a few hours of sleep to see the truth brought to light. And I, without reservation, call anyone who thinks otherwise a coward and a traitor."

Harry sat, anger radiating from him, refusing to look away from Malfoy Sr. He knew this was the riskiest moment of the night. His words could easily lead to an offended witch or wizard demanding retribution, and he truly hoped it wouldn't come to that. Not because he doubted himself, but it had been a long day already, and he didn't want to have to take a third shower.

Malfoy fumed, refusing to look away, and the Chamber waited on baited breath for his response. Before he could give it, a voice to Harry's right spoke out.

"For Merlin's sake, continue the questioning."

Harry, shocked at hearing a woman's voice, turned to look at Narcissa Malfoy who had spoken out. She sat confidently, looking at neither Harry, nor her husband, and appeared impatient to continue. Harry smiled, wondering if she would regret her outburst after the evening's events concluded.

"Did Sirius Black give the Dark Lord the Potters' location?" Bones asked Pettigrew before the argument could continue.

"No."

"Who did?"

"I… I did."

"Did you do so knowing what would happen to them?" Amelia asked over more whispering.

"Yes." Tears continued to flow down the rat's face, eliciting zero sympathy from Harry, or from the collected assembly.

"Was Sirius Black a Death Eater?"

"Never."

"Were you a Death Eater?"

"I am a Death Eater."

"Are you saying you still follow the Dark Lord presumed to be dead?" Amelia asked, her eyebrows high on her forehead.

The whispering in the Chamber had turned to a dull roar. Before Pettigrew could answer, a member from the elected section jumped to his feet, wand in hand.

"Avada Kedavra!"

The ex-Marauder caught the curse directly in the chest and slumped in his chair before anyone could begin to respond. He was dead, but Harry wasn't satisfied. Shaking off the surprise, Harry moved towards the killer, intent on voicing his thanks and displeasure. Before he could get halfway, however, the wizard activated a portkey.

"Damn it," Harry muttered, frustrated that a new known enemy escaped.

Glancing around the room, he saw the majority of the assembly frozen in shock. Most eyes were on him, as his rush to get to the killer had been rather energetic. Harry took a few calming breaths, reset the furniture he knocked over to its rightful position, and returned to his designated area. Before sitting he turned to address the Wizengamot.

"I demand Sirius Black's attendance in order to be granted an unconditional pardon from a repentant government."

A/N: I'm 30ish chapters in, and have tried to refrain from cliffhangers. But sometimes chapter breaks seem organic, and I'll use them when they do. This isn't much of one, but I just wanted to say if I do end on a cliffhanger, I'll do my best to get the next chapter up asap. Thanks for reading!