Honestly, House Elves Are Underrated.

Honestly, I had been planning for a day like this for the last two weeks. I even fed that stupid rat four times a day to make him like me enough to follow me around. I had to give Anne strict instructions not to eat him while silently following him.

I quickly pulled out the Marauder's Map and located Harry, Hermione, and Ron in the trophy room. I scanned it around Gryffindor Tower, and it showed tiny footprints marked as Peter Pettigrew, only to see the vile thing scurrying down from the dormitory.

"Where is this stupid rat going at this hour?" I thought, puzzled. Thankfully, I didn't have to sneak into the boys' dorms (which I was totally planning to do). I tracked Scabbers through the common room and quickly grabbed him, holding a packet of Every Flavour Beans as bait. He paused, eyes fixed on the beans packet, and started munching contently. Perfect.

"This is your final meal, Pettigrew. Go eat shit in Azkaban now," I muttered under my breath, pulling out my wand. "Petrificus Totalus!"

Scabbers stiffened, half of him still in the beans packet. I chuckled nervously, the reality of what I'd just done sinking in. "Well, that was surprisingly easy. Should've just done that from the start."

Everything after that went like a whirlwind. I quickly went to the dormitories, grabbed Poppins, and cast a quick Accio to find a small, thick-wired rat cage that the Room of Requirement kindly gave me, sensing my needs the first time I was there. This better be unbreakable.

I locked Scabbers inside, covered the cage with a cloth, and pushed it under my bed. The thought of what he could have done in his Animagus form sent shivers down my spine. Nasty little rat. He wasn't going to get the chance to roam free again. Now I have two vile things below my bed. Isn't that great?

All I had to do now was wait until morning. So, I popped into bed and tried to sleep. And I couldn't.

I blinked and stared at the ceiling for a while. I read my Herbology textbook, my personal sleeping pill. After a while, I heard Hermione coming in. Anne was biting on my pyjamas because I didn't let her eat Scabbers again. Even after everything, I couldn't sleep. So, I just scribbled a quick letter, not waiting until morning to do that.

To Alastor Moody,

I hope this letter finds you in your usual state of paranoia because I have quite the story for you. Enclosed with this letter, you will find a small, petrified rat. It's actually Peter Pettigrew, who apparently faked his own death and has been enjoying the life of a pet rat for ten years. Yes, I'm serious. And no, I'm not under the Imperius Curse.

This rat, as you might've already figured out, is an illegal Animagus. Oh, and did I mention he's also the reason why Sirius Black ended up in Azkaban? You know, the guy with the cool bike and equally cool tattoos? He's not a notorious mass murderer. Pettigrew here was the one who killed all those twelve innocent people with a single curse. If you look closely, he's missing a toe. Do a reversal spell and check his left arm—you'll see his Dark Mark. Quite fascinating, isn't it?

Meanwhile, Sirius Black's most heinous crime might be murdering a bunch of innocent Gryffindors with his "Sirius/Serious" pun jokes. Absolutely criminal if you ask me.

As a constantly watching, occasionally helping citizen, I felt it my duty to bring this to your attention. Please take the rat into custody immediately and do your Auror thing.

Oh, and by the way, your eye is so cool! Can it really see through invisibility cloaks? Asking for a friend.

Sincerely,

…

I paused for a moment before finalizing the letter. Should I include a name, or should I simply send it off as is? I could opt for something like "Your Friendly Neighborhood Bat Woman." Yet, despite it being a completely absurd notion, I ultimately decided to stick with my original idea.

"Sincerely

R.A.B"

Ah, taking advantage of your dead uncle and his mystery-shrouded signature again and again. Not bad. At all.

As soon as the first ray of sunlight broke in through the windows, I sprang up from my semi-sleepness and quickly got out of the Gryffindor tower grabbing you know what to the least distant and sneakiest spot to the tower. I just had to walk three times to and fro for the spot to appear before me.

"Kreacher!" I shouted, twirling around and throwing glitter in the air. With a pop, the ancient house-elf appeared, looking thoroughly bewildered.

"Young Mistress?" he croaked, his ears drooping in confusion.

"Oh my Kreacher, I half expected you not to come here. By the way, Hello, and you look rather… healthy?"
"Kreacher come when young mistress calls Kreacher." The now not-so-scary-looking elf said.

"I know, and I am glad you are here and well. Anyway, I need your help with something totally bonkers."

I quickly explained my plan to Kreacher and the house elf's expression went from disdain to fear to something which screamed 'why am I doomed to serve this person?", but he finally nodded and set out on the mission with rat. Perhaps this will be much deadlier than the Horcrux mission Regulus gave him, because oh boy, I am sending him off to a ticking time bomb.

You know what, you all had been underestimating house elves for too long. Because as soon as I took my second breath and turned towards the door to go outside, Kreacher reappeared announcing the mission was completed without a speck of damage.

I ran into Kreacher and gave him a tight hug. The house-elf struggled to free himself from my embrace, his eyes wide with disbelief and possibly contemplating his entire existence from now on.

"Kreacher, you're a hero!" I exclaimed, finally releasing him.

Kreacher blinked, looking bewildered. "Young Mi-Mistress should not be hugging Kreacher," he stammered, clearly unused to such praise. I hugged him again as a reply and sent him off.

The morning after went by as expected. As I plopped down next to Hermione, I noticed Fay still half-asleep, her head bobbing dangerously close to her bowl of porridge.

"Hermione, you look particularly miffed this morning," I said, a smirk playing on my lips.

"Reckless! Utterly reckless, the both of them!" she huffed, glaring at Harry and Ron, who were animatedly discussing their latest adventure.

"Reckless is an understatement," I teased, catching Harry's eye. "I told you Draco wouldn't show up. See?"

Ron groaned. "Alright, alright. You were right."

Harry leaned in, his eyes wide. "That three-headed dog—what do you reckon it's guarding? Something taken from Gringotts, maybe? Down in that trapdoor?"

I rolled my eyes. "I wouldn't recommend trying to find that Cerberus again. You might end up being its breakfast."

"Cerberus?" Ron echoed, his confusion evident.

"A three-headed dog from Greek mythology. Guards the entrance to the underworld," Hermione explained. "As much as I don't want to engage with both of you after you both nearly got me expelled yesterday, I suggest not going there. Only fools do that."

I nodded. "She's right. You two need to be more careful"

Ron shrugged, clearly unperturbed. "But what about that thing from Gringotts?"

Before I could respond, an owl swooped in, dropping a long, not-at-all-broom-shaped package right in front of Harry. Harry picked up the accompanying note and showed us. Well, you guessed it. It's a Nimbus Two Thousand. Ten points to Gryffindor.

Ron's eyes widened in admiration. "Blimey, Harry, that's amazing."

"At least you won't have to worry about being eaten by a Cerberus on that thing," I quipped.

Hermione gave me a sharp look, her face fuming with anger.

I raised my hands in mock surrender. "Hey, I'm just pointing out the obvious. Flying's much safer than dog-wrangling."

Harry and Ron stood up, preparing to head to the common room to inspect the broom in private. As they walked away, I heard Parvati and Fay talking to my left.

"What do you reckon it is?" Paro asked, glancing at the conspicuous package.

"It's not a broomstick at all," Fay said in a sarcastic tone, rolling her eyes.

Lav chuckled behind them. "It's as obvious as the nose on your face."

Hermione pushed away from the table towards the stairs, saying, "This is not fair."

I spent the rest of the day contemplating about Moody. And I couldn't sleep at all that night.

The next day began with Ron now fully convinced that his rat was missing, running from one corner of the tower to another in search of it. I somehow convinced him that poor old Scabbers might've reached the Good Place now and poor Ron's face dropped. "It's not much, but it was still my pet," he lamented. We arranged a small funeral for Scabbers. Percy was devastated by the news. Twins conjured a rat trap and buried it with a rag of cloth, the one Scabbers always chewed on. Ah, bliss.

The real treat of the day came during breakfast when owls arrived carrying the Daily Prophet.

I eagerly snatched a copy and scanned the front page. There, in bold letters, it read: "PETER PETTIGREW ALIVE! HERO TURNED DEATH EATER?"

I smirked as I read the article detailing everything—how Pettigrew had been masquerading as a rat, his capture after someone named RAB left a note on his bedside table, and the evidence of his guilt in betraying the Potters, killing people, and framing Sirius Black. Moody had wasted no time. Another feather in his cap, I guess.

The news created quite a stir in the Great Hall, needless to say. Above the high table, I saw professors passing newspapers and murmuring into each other's ears. They all looked like they had just bitten into particularly bitter gooseberries. Giving a side-eyed glance across the Great Hall, I observed people's reactions.

As for the first-years, they mostly seemed confused, exchanging puzzled looks and whispers. They were more concerned with their porridge and pumpkin juice than with someone named Peter Pettigrew. Some of them hastily shoved food into their mouths. Over at the Ravenclaw table, most students were engrossed in their papers, discussing the finer points of Animagus law and the ethics of magical concealment. Many were focused on their books, occasionally taking bites of food. Did I mention that Marvin-I-Still-Didn't-Ask-His-Last-Name-Because-I-didn't-Talk-To-Him was sitting there with a trombone? According to my observations for the last few days, it seems like the guy is in the frog orchestra. He was talking with a girl with blonde hair sitting beside him. Those groups of people, I suppose, hadn't even bothered to know the news.

The Slytherin table, as usual, looked like they were having high tea with the Queen, but many were fixated on their newspapers—mainly the older students. Some turned their backs, scanning the room, and when their eyes landed on me, I quickly shifted my gaze to the Gryffindor table. Harry was sitting there, eyes fixed on the newspaper, with Ron, Neville, and Seamus glancing at him and talking animatedly.

Dean Thomas, on the other hand, was nonchalantly drawing in his sketchbook, not bothered by the news at all. Hermione was absent, probably in the library already.

How did I forget that the article mentioned Harry's parents' murders too? Brilliant, Tara. Sometimes I wonder if I lack awareness that these are actual people with actual feelings.

The variety of reactions around the hall was almost amusing. Some cared deeply, others were mildly interested, and some, like the ever-pragmatic Lav and Paro, were more interested in the latest gossip about Gilderoy Lockhart's new book. The world didn't revolve around Harry Potter, after all. Some people just didn't care.

Fay finally broke my silent glancing session with a direct question, "This Sirius Black person, is he related to you?" This query caught Harry's attention.

Clearing my throat, I replied, "Yes, actually. He's my father."

Harry's eyes widened in surprise. "Sirius Black is your father?"

Before I could respond, Draco Malfoy's voice cut through the din of the hall. "Well, well, well," he drawled, his sneer aimed directly at me. "Looks like that blood-traitor father of yours will be out of Azkaban soon! Should've stayed there, in my father's opinion."

"Good morning to you too, dear cousin," I said, not missing a beat. "I see you read the newspaper. Great habit, reading the news. Keep it up."

Draco's face twisted in annoyance. "Oh, very funny, Black. But you won't be laughing when your precious father is out and about. He's a disgrace to purebloods."

I sighed, feeling a sudden shudder creeping over me. "Please don't call me Black, I get goosebumps. These bloody goosebumps!" I braced myself. "And don't make such statements with that baby face of yours. I feel like slapping some sense into you, but I don't beat children."

Draco's face flushed with anger, turning cherry red. "Wait till my father hears about this."

I chuckled, unfazed. "Tell him I said hello then. I never properly introduced myself to him or Aunt Narcissa, you see. We Indians value family a lot."

Draco's frustration was evident as his voice dropped to a low, seething tone. "You're going to regret this. You and your blood-traitor father."

Raising an eyebrow, unimpressed, I retorted, "Okay, I will add regret to my to-do list. Now, can I have my beans in peace?"

With that, Draco turned on his heel and strode back to the Slytherin table, where Crabbe and Goyle were waiting for him with unreadable expressions. I turned back to Harry and the others at the Gryffindor table.

"Blimey," Seamus muttered, "didn't see that coming."

"Sirius Black is your father and Malfoy is your cousin?" Harry asked, his expression amused.

I nodded. "Yes, they are. Lucky me. And now, everyone knows it, thanks to today's news."

Ron looked baffled. "And you didn't tell us?"

"Well, I figured it would come up eventually," I replied casually, taking a sip of pumpkin juice.

"Is this why you told me that you will tell me about your father later? Because he is in Azkaban?" Fay asked.

I nodded.

Neville, ever the cautious one, interjected, "Sirius Black is innocent, right? That's what the Prophet says."

I nodded again, feeling a strange mix of relief and pride.

"And he… was their friend… and he was imprisoned. And Pettigrew was the one who... who betrayed my parents."

Oh, Merlin. I knew this would happen. I'm not good with emotional people. In a not-knowing-anything condition, I reached over and placed a hand over his shoulder.

"Oh Harry…I am really sorry…" I said to Harry glancing at his green eyes brightening with tears welling up. Did I make a kid cry?

"Why would you say sorry? This Peter should be the one who should say sorry. I… I just can't believe all this… My parents…" Harry sobbed. I didn't know what to do, so I pulled the kid into an embrace. Fay hugged me from behind. Soon, many joined us, turning it into a group hug. It felt like a moment of shared understanding and support.

High up at the table, I noticed familiar blue eyes glancing at us with a smile. But contrary to what Rowling said, I couldn't see the eyes twinkling at all. Must be the lack of good light.

Thank Merlin it was a Saturday; no classes to worry about. After the emotional rollercoaster in the Great Hall, I decided to tackle my homework first. Of course, Hermione, being Hermione, barged in and demanded a recount of everything that happened. I obliged her with a condensed version, omitting the dramatics and sticking to the facts. She nodded approvingly, satisfied with the juicy details.

Once the conversation had quieted down, I slipped out of the hall and wandered through the Hogwarts grounds. The air was crisp, the sun shining brightly — a perfect day for some solitude.

I made my way to the West Tower battlements, Anne prancing alongside like she owned the place. Well, technically, she did — Hogwarts was practically her kingdom, and she ruled it with a velvet paw.

Leaning against the stone, I gazed out at the panoramic view of the grounds, lost in my thoughts. Anne rubbed against my legs, bringing me back to the present.

"You know, Annie," I said, kneeling down to scratch her behind the ears. "Today has been quite the day."

Anne meowed in agreement, her tail twitching with amusement. Charlie hooted from his perch, adding his two Knuts to the conversation.

"So, Sirius," I murmured, more to myself than to my companions, "it seems your name is finally being cleared."

Anne's gentle meow echoed my thoughts.

"But what happens now?" I pondered aloud, feeling a knot of nervousness forming in my stomach. "I mean, I'm relieved that things are going my way so far, but I've changed so much. How will this all affect me?"

A sudden realization struck me like a bolt of lightning.

"Jesus Christ, I forgot about that," I blurted out, surprising even myself. "He'll come looking for me once he's released, won't he? How am I supposed to face him? And live with him? Why, God, why? Why, out of everything, did he have to be my father?"

I sighed heavily, lying back on the cool rooftops, my mind swirling with questions and apprehensions. Charlie hooted once again, as if offering reassurance.

"Oh, Charlie," I said, reaching out to him, only to receive a playful nip in return. He fluttered away, hooting once more, as if reminding me of something important.

"Ah, right," I said, remembering. "Letters." I reached into my bag and pulled out parchment and a quill. "It's time to write to Remus and Uncle."

Sitting down on the stone floor, I scribbled a quick letter to Remus, updating him on the day's events and Harry's reaction, including his newfound nicknames: The Boy Who Cried and The Boy Who Hugged. Remus might have already been informed Sirius was on his way to being exonerated, but I needed his perspective and guidance. The prophet is full of nonsense. I need information from a reliable source instead.

As for Uncle, I wrote a more personal note, pouring out my thoughts and feelings about what had happened. I knew he would appreciate the update, especially since he had always been supportive of Mum and her intuitions about Sirius being innocent.

Once I finished the letters, I summoned Charlie and attached them securely. Charlie took off immediately, his wings beating strongly as he flew towards Hogsmeade and then to London.

I leaned back against the battlements, watching Charlie disappear into the distance.

"Everything will be alright, won't it, Anne?" I said, turning to my furry companion.

Anne blinked lazily at me, as if to say, "As long as you keep feeding me treats, I'm cool with whatever," before darting off to chase imaginary butterflies. I chuckled softly, playing with her for a bit longer before descending the stairs.

As I walked down, the stars twinkling above, I couldn't help but murmur, "All Hail The House Elves, Saviours of the Wizarding World."

A/N- It took a while for me to write this chapter. I was lazy. Sorry about that.

And Thank you for all the support!

And as for the question of whether Tara will ever reveal the truth to anyone, what do you think? She doesn't seem like someone who would do something like that. Besides, I don't think telling people that they're mere characters in a book is a good idea. If it were me, I'd probably have a heart attack.