The Truth
A/N
Another chapter dump for you guys, and I have updated the Discord link on my profile page.
Enjoy,
TBR
Harry mindlessly continued to feed the Bowtruckle the woodlice it seemed to enjoy, careful not to get his finger bitten again by the eager little creature. As much as he liked Hagrid, he could no longer deny that his lessons had become dreadfully dull.
"Alright there, Harry," the large man asked as he came to check on his progress.
Harry nodded.
"Any news on the appeal?"
"It's set for next week," Hagrid murmured worriedly. "Don't expect it will come to much. The Wizengamot won't go against Lucius Malfoy."
"Wizengamot?"
"Magical government," Hagrid sighed. "Where all the important people in the country pass laws and hold trials and so on. You'll be a part of it one day."
"Me?"
"Don't tell me you didn't know!"
Harry could only shake his head.
"Well, your family has had a seat on it for generations," Hagrid explained.
"So, it's important?"
Hagrid nodded.
"Not that it helps Buckbeak. Hermione is doing her best, but it won't come to nothing. All I can hope for is a quick, clean death, I suppose."
Harry felt for the man, and as he looked towards Malfoy's ever-present smug grin, he felt his irritation rise.
"Why won't anyone go against Lucius Malfoy?"
Hagrid shrugged.
"Most are scared of him, and the others don't want to upset the Minister. Ol' Malfoy is close to Cornelius Fudge."
"That's not how it should work."
"But it is how it works, Harry," Hagrid replied sadly, clapping him smartly on the shoulder before moving along to where Dean and Seamus were tending to their own creature.
Harry hated seeing Hagrid like this, and the thought of Malfoy's scheming ways being the cause of it even more so.
With a frown, Harry approached Ron.
"Ron, what do you know about the Wizengamot?"
Being a pureblood, his friend would likely have some information on how the government worked.
Ron shrugged.
"Not much. My family doesn't have a seat on it. Why?"
"I was just wondering," Harry said dismissively.
"What do you want to know?" Neville interjected curiously.
"Why everyone is scared of Malfoy, for a start."
Neville looked to check that Draco wasn't listening before leaning in.
"He was a supporter of You-Know-Who," he whispered. "He managed to get away with it by claiming he was under the Imperius Curse, but everyone knows he was lying. I heard my gran say that he paid a lot of gold to charities to avoid going to Azkaban. People are scared because they remember what it was like then. They don't want Lucius Malfoy coming after them. The Wizengamot is all about influence, Harry. If you have a powerful name or a reputation, you can just about get what you want. You'll be fine when you take your seat. There won't be many who will want to disagree with you."
"Me?"
Neville rolled his eyes.
"You're Harry Potter," he said simply. "You defeated a Dark Lord and people will remember that. My gran said she is looking forward to when another Potter is on the Wizengamot. You already have some influence that you can use. People will listen to you."
Harry hummed thoughtfully as an idea began to form.
"How old do I have to be?"
"Seventeen," Neville informed him.
"That's no good," Harry huffed irritably. "I want to help Hagrid get Buckbeak's decision overturned."
"Well, you can attend the Wizengamot as a witness," Neville explained. "You won't have your title, but people will still listen to you. It might not be enough right now, though."
Harry nodded as his idea blossomed further, his gaze shifting around the students in the class.
"How many people in this class have family members on the Wizengamot?" he asked.
Neville frowned before his eyes widened in realisation.
"Well, my gran is my proxy until I am seventeen. Susan's aunt is hers and the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement."
"Is she?" Harry asked interestedly, filing that piece of information away for later.
Neville nodded.
"Terry's dad has a seat, as does Hannah Abbot's. There's also Greengrass, Smith, and Macmillan," he revealed.
"Thanks, Neville," Harry said appreciatively. "You wouldn't happen to want to help me out, would you?"
Neville shot another glance towards Malfoy.
"Won't he…?"
Harry shook his head firmly.
"If he does, I will handle it."
Neville swallowed deeply before nodding.
"I'll do it," he declared, eliciting a smile from Harry.
"Cheers, Neville," Harry offered sincerely before approaching Susan.
He had gotten to know the girl better throughout their shared Runes lessons.
She was a bright girl, and confident with it.
Hardly surprising knowing that her aunt held such a lofty position within the Ministry of Magic.
"Susan, could I have a word?" Harry asked.
The girl narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously.
"You're up to something," she accused. "I can tell by the way you are grinning."
"Nothing bad," Harry promised. "I was hoping you could help me right a wrong."
Susan frowned as she followed Harry's furtive gaze towards Draco.
"I'm listening," she replied.
"As is Greengrass, apparently," Harry snorted, noticing the Slytherin girl scooting closer.
"I wasn't eavesdropping," she denied.
"I couldn't care less if you were, but I'd rather you kept your mouth shut."
Daphne quirked an eyebrow at him.
"You're feeling exceptionally bold today, Potter," she said airily.
"I am a Gryffindor."
Daphne's nose wrinkled.
They hadn't spoken much, but there had never been any hostility between them.
Mostly, they simply ignored one another unless they needed to discuss something pertaining to their Runes work.
It was the best Harry could hope for from any Slytherin student, particularly as the final match of the season would be held tomorrow.
Draco had avoided it for as long as possible, but no longer could.
He'd already made himself look rather pathetic by sporting a bandage for most of the year.
"If this is something ridiculous, I want no part of it," Daphne warned.
"I didn't ask you to be part of it," Harry pointed out. "You decided to be nosy."
"I did not!"
"Oh, shut up," Susan grumbled. "What do you want, Harry?"
"Will she keep it to herself?" Harry asked nodding towards Daphne. "It does concern the leader of her house."
Daphne grimaced as she realised who Harry was referring to.
"Like I would tell him anything," she muttered.
Susan merely shrugged and Harry looked towards Malfoy a final time, his resolve only becoming stronger as he grinned at something Nott mockingly said about Hagrid.
(Break)
It had been weeks since Sirius had written to Harry and having only received a short response delivered to him by his owl shortly after, he'd begun to lose hope that Harry believed him at all.
If you are telling the truth, do nothing. Lie low and do not get caught.
Sirius had been doing just that, but he was not the most patient of people.
James had always commented on it during the years they'd been friends.
Regardless, until Harry told him otherwise, Sirius had to believe there was still hope that his godson would discover the truth for himself, so it would continue to be a nervous wait whilst the boy did what he felt was needed.
At the very least, Harry had not simply dismissed what Sirius had told him out of hand.
Yes, there was still hope, and though Sirius knew what had occurred a little over a decade ago, it terrified him still to think that Harry would not side with him.
(Break)
Arthur sighed deeply as he looked upon the graves of his family.
Glyn had died defending their lands, and though his passing had been an unpleasant one, his name and reputation lived on amongst their people.
Not a day went by that someone did not visit the Peverell plots to pay their respects, the name being afforded as such for the men who had fought for them for generations.
Strong men, with good values, but with a ruthlessness towards the enemies of Cymru that could not be matched.
The name Peverell was one of protection, of safety, and of intrigue.
Words of their deeds were still whispered, the mystery surrounding them only having deepened with each retelling of the stories surrounding them.
Some were utter nonsense, but others contained more than a kernel of the truth his father had told him.
"Come Death, come," Arthur murmured, conjuring a black rose, and placing it on Glyn's final resting place.
He missed his brother terribly.
"You know I hate that saying," a voice broke into his musings.
Arthur turned and smiled at the young woman who was watching him intently, her arms crossed in disapproval.
He chuckled as he stood.
"They are words to live by," he replied as he looked upon his daughter.
Iolanthe was a true beauty, in body and spirit.
With her dark hair, pale skin, and striking blue eyes, she garnered more than her fair share of attention.
She was softly spoken, and demure in nature, but did not lack in ferocious temperament when provoked, as more than a few of the villagers had discovered for themselves.
Iolanthe was a Peverell, after all.
For the time being at least.
Most women her age were already married and had born children.
Not that Arthur was in a rush for her to do so, but it was coming.
He could sense her restlessness, though finding a suitable husband was not easy. Well, it hadn't been until recently.
Hardwin Potter.
Arthur had done his best to dislike the young man, but he couldn't find it within himself to do so.
He had a sharp wit about him, and an even sharper wand. More than anything, however, there was no denying the admiration Hardwin had for his daughter, and her in return.
They were indeed young fools in love, and at the very least, Arthur would one day rest easy knowing that his family name had not evaporated into nothing.
The Potters were a good family.
Linfred, Hardwin's father, had been amongst those who had fought off the Irish all those years ago, and had even ensured the families of the fallen were taken care of whilst Arthur had been grieving.
Yes, Hardwin was very much like the man that had sired him, and it filled Arthur with hope that Iolanthe would live a happy life.
"Where is your husband-to-be?" he asked curiously.
Iolanthe rolled her eyes.
"Duelling," she answered amusedly. "He's been at it all morning with the visiting English."
Arthur snorted.
It had become common to see the English amongst them now.
They were a boastful and prideful people and Hardwin took no small amount of pleasure in teaching them humility and made considerable amounts of gold from doing so.
Only a fool would bet against the young Potter in a fight.
Linfred had drilled him in the art as soon as he was able to stand, and Hardwin had carved quite the reputation for himself amongst the people here.
"Speak of the devil," Arthur snorted as Hardwin strolled into the graveyard, respectfully removing his flat cap as he reached them.
"Mr Peverell," he greeted Arthur.
"That would be Lord Peverell, according to the English Ministry," Arthur corrected, removing the notice of title he had received that morning.
Arthur did not understand what it meant.
There were no Lords nor other such fancy things amongst the magicals here.
Men were respected for their deeds and valued for what they had contributed to the people.
Only the English could create something so flowery and ridiculous to put themselves on a higher pedestal.
"Lord Peverell," Hardwin corrected with a smirk, not having missed Arthur's grimace.
"That's enough of that, Potter," Arthur sighed.
The young man certainly had the cheek to go along with his wit, but Iolanthe would keep him in line.
"Have you decided when you are going to get married?"
"Why?" Hardwin questioned. "What's wrong with your daughter that you're so keen to get rid of her?"
"Watch it, Potter," Iolanthe warned, shaking her head at her intended's grin.
"I am not keen to be rid of her, just to see her happy," Arthur explained. "For whatever reason, it seems to be you that makes her smile. Keep it that way, Potter. I will haunt you from beyond the grave if you don't."
Hardwin nodded soberly.
"Given your reputation, I don't doubt it," he chuckled. "You have my word, on my life, that I will keep her safe and happy."
Arthur nodded.
It was all he could ask for, after all.
Harry exited the memory and shook his head.
Potter.
That was where the two families had merged into one, and yet, he could not help but think of Carys and the connection to the Evans family.
Had he somehow descended from Ignotus Peverell from both his mother and father?
It was something he would have to investigate, though he was unsure if the muggle records went back so far and he didn't have the benefit of the memories from the Evans family.
Nonetheless, he could not help but think that it was too much of a coincidence, especially with the tradition of what would become his muggle ancestry, of naming the daughters after flowers.
With a frown, he looked in the mirror of his bedside table.
He did resemble Hardwin Potter quite closely.
The man had the same messy crop of dark hair and a similar brow, but his eyes were all Malory Gaunt, the same eyes possessed by Lily Potter.
His Aunt Petunia, however, had not inherited them.
It was a lot to consider and take in, but Harry simply could not ignore the possibility.
Although, if his suspicions were confirmed, it meant that he was a direct descendant of Salazar Slytherin, which would explain his parseltongue ability.
The more he pondered it, the more the notion rang true.
Still, he needed to know the truth of the matter, just as he did the mystery surrounding his godfather and his part in the death of Harry's parents.
He shook his head of the thought for the time being.
Harry was determined to uncover the truth of both, but for now, he needed to focus on the task at hand.
Today was the final Quidditch match of the season and playing against the snakes would require his full focus.
(Break)
As ever, the Slytherins were resorting to every dirty tactic in the book to remain in the game, and when they weren't doing that, they were outright cheating.
Already, Katie knew she would be littered with bruises after being mobbed in mid-air by the opposing Chasers whenever she had gotten the Quaffle, but even then, the Slytherins simply could not compete with the Gryffindor team.
Fred and George worked so well together.
It truly was as though it was one mind possessing two bodies with how they synchronized their game, meaning that, although the Slytherin Chasers were able to turn the game into a rough, sloppy mess of all the drills they'd been working on, they were not granted a moment of peace from the twins.
Wood was in as fine form as his best day and had only been beaten twice at the goalposts in comparison to Bletchley, who had conceded twelve goals already due to the combined efforts of Katie, Alicia, and Angelina.
The Slytherins had the better brooms, but they were far from being the better players.
That statement could not be truer when it came to Malfoy.
It wasn't that the boy was an incompetent flyer.
For his age, he was rather good, but the difference in talent and ability between him and Harry was simply astronomical.
Katie would not pretend that she wasn't jealous at just how effortless Harry made being atop a broom look.
It had shocked her to learn that he would be their Seeker shortly after he'd arrived at Hogwarts.
At first, she, along with the rest of the team, had believed he had only been given the position because of who he was, something she felt considerable shame for now since he had proven them all wrong the moment they saw him fly.
He had been incredible then and had only gotten better.
Learning that he had never even flown a broom before attending Hogwarts had left her and the other Chasers dumbfounded beyond measure.
How could someone just be so good at something?
It seemed that for Harry, flying came as naturally to him as breathing, and it showed with how easily he flew rings around everyone on the Quidditch pitch.
Draco was good for his age, but Harry was just great without needing to take such a thing into account.
"Come on, Harry," she urged, wincing at the many aches and minor injuries that plagued her as he dived for the Snitch in a way most would deem to be insane.
Vertical dives were dangerous, especially as a Seeker.
They required the perfect execution of technique and timing, and one miscalculation on either side…
The consequences did not bear thinking about.
Many a Seeker had been permanently injured and some killed by making such a mistake, but as she had gotten used to witnessing, Harry did not make an error as he pulled the handle of his broom up with one hand and holding the Snitch in the other.
Katie breathed a sigh of relief.
That had been too close for comfort.
Only an inch or so later, the moment of joy would have been one of disaster.
She cheered along with the majority of those within the stadium as she landed and sprinted towards her celebrating teammates, noticing the strangers she had spotted amongst the professors joining in with the applause.
Scouts always came to the last game of the season, and often others to look for any potential talent amongst those who would soon be graduating.
Today, they would have likely been paying close attention to Oliver and Bletchley who were playing their last for their houses, but they couldn't have missed Harry's mix of sheer brilliance and lunacy.
Katie had no doubt they would be back to see him again.
"I could bloody well kiss you, Potter!" Wood declared, thumping Harry on the arm.
"I'd rather you didn't," Harry replied dryly.
"Bugger that, I am going to kiss him!" Fred announced.
Harry's eyes widened as he was bundled to the ground by the entire team.
"We love you, Harry!" George gushed, kissing him on the cheek.
"Bloody hell, I'm being mugged," Harry groaned. "Get off me, you bastards!"
"We really love you!" Fred added.
There was nothing Harry could do as the Weasley's continued to hold him whilst taking turns in professing their gratitude.
"Not you too," Harry almost whimpered as Angelina sat on his chest.
The girl nodded as she cupped his cheeks in both hands before pressing her lips to his.
Harry squirmed, but it was no good, and he was given the same treatment by Alicia.
"I'll kill you," Harry threatened the twins. "Ron, don't just stand there you git!"
The youngest Weasley boy shook his head.
"I'm just glad they're leaving me alone for once."
The look of betrayal Harry gave the boy was evident.
"Come on, Katie, your turn," Angelina encouraged. "Come and give Harry a nice wet kiss."
Katie's mouth suddenly felt very dry as she was all but shoved onto the restrained boy.
Licking her lips, she leaned forward, only to press them against his cheek.
"I think you've had enough for one day," she murmured, smiling, though she could not ignore the disappointment she felt.
Why hadn't she just done what the others had?
Too late.
Harry had already gotten back to his feet and was in the process of being carried off, held aloft by the entirety of the house.
"I need to shower!" he almost pleaded, his words falling on deaf ears as the crowd headed towards the castle.
"PARTY TONIGHT!" Fred declared loudly, receiving an abundance of cheers from their housemates.
Professor McGonagall's expression shifted from one of joy to one of absolute horror.
The woman was likely in for a long night of dealing with her rowdy students.
"Come on," Angelina urged. "Let's get cleaned up."
Katie nodded as she followed along, her gaze shifting to the retreating crowd who was carrying away the hero of the day, the disappointment she felt not ebbing away.
(Break)
With the exception of the unpleasant incident on Halloween, Remus had surprisingly had a good year at Hogwarts. When Dumbledore had approached him shortly after Sirius had escaped, the werewolf had been reluctant to accept the offered post, but the headmaster had always been rather convincing.
As such, Remus had boarded the express as requested, in the event that Sirius managed to sneak onto the train and had made his way back to the castle which had been the source of the best times of his life.
Being here helped to relive those better memories, though he could not enjoy them knowing where they had led. Along with the warmth they filled him with, purely for his own selfish reasons, there was an undeniable bitterness.
They had been all but brothers, inseparable throughout their school years, and yet, one of them thrown it all away for reasons Remus had never managed to understand.
Sirius and James had always been the closest of the four, and Remus would never have believed that the former would have done what he had.
After that Halloween night, he had lost his way.
Perhaps he was a coward, but Remus could not face the devastation left in the wake of James and Lily's deaths whilst the rest of the world celebrated.
Had Dumbledore not come to him, it was likely he would never have returned to Britain, much to the new-found shame he felt.
Yes, it was painful being here, but Hogwarts was the first place he had ever been accepted for what he was by the best friends he could have asked for.
Remus swallowed a lump that formed in his throat, clearing it as someone knocked on the door to his office.
"Come in," he called.
Harry.
The boy looked very similar to James for the most part, but for those that knew her well enough, Lily had left her mark on her son, and not just in the eyes.
He may have favoured the Potter look, but Harry's mannerisms were a blend of his mother and father.
It warmed Remus to see him thrive as he was, even if the boy was much more serious than James ever was.
How could he not be with what had happened when he had been but a babe?
"I've come for some more work, Professor," Harry explained.
"Already?" Remus chuckled, shaking his head. "I only gave you the last one two-days-ago."
Harry merely shrugged in response and Remus began flicking through the stack of parchment he had put together for the boy.
He was progressing quickly, taking each challenge as it came relentlessly, until he felt ready to move onto the next.
Remus was not an experienced professor by any means, but he doubted there were many other students within the castle who were progressing at such a rate.
It was impressive, to say the least.
"Here we are," Remus declared as he handed the boy a sheet of parchment.
Harry glanced over it before nodding his understanding.
"Do you think you will be able to manage them?"
It was a complex series of spells that could be combined as a single, chain of attack used in duelling.
Not that Remus had written that on the parchment. For Harry, the task wasn't learning the spells themselves, but making the connection of wand movements between them.
"I think so," Harry replied thoughtfully.
Remus offered him an encouraging smile.
The boy would be back in no more than a few days for another task.
"Why haven't you mentioned that you were friends with my father?"
The question sobered Remus immediately and as he met Harry's gaze, it wasn't a look of anger that greeted him, but one of curiosity mixed with disappointment.
"I wanted to," Remus murmured. "Your father was one of my best friends and after what happened to your parents…"
He broke off, not knowing what else to say.
"So, you were friends with Sirius?"
Remus's expression darkened at the mention of the man before he nodded.
"I never would have guessed he would do what he did. They were as thick as thieves. As close as any brothers you would meet, or so I thought. Why are you asking this?"
Harry shrugged.
"I just wondered."
Remus didn't think so.
Harry was asking for a reason, even if he didn't wish to admit it.
"You know something," he said in realisation.
"I have my suspicions," Harry corrected firmly, his voice shifting from one of light conversation to something slightly menacing.
"Suspicions?"
Harry looked at Remus and the man felt as though the boy could almost peer into his very soul. It was unnerving to say the least, but he did not attempt to look away.
He had nothing to hide.
With a nod, Harry removed a stack of parchment from within his robes and offered one of the pieces to Remus.
He accepted it with a frown, his jaw tightening as he took in the familiar scrawl.
Remus could not believe that Sirius had the gall to write to Harry after what he had done, though as he read the missive in its entirety, he felt is blood run cold.
What if everyone had gotten it wrong?
No, it couldn't be.
"Harry…"
Before Remus could finish, Harry pushed something else in his hand. It was an article from The Daily Prophet, where a phot of the Weasley family was shown.
Remus knew Arthur and Molly well from their time in the Order, but it was the rat on the youngest son's shoulder that had been circled in red that caught his attention.
"Is it him?" Harry asked simply.
He had seen Peter transform countless times, and yet, he couldn't be certain.
"I can't say for sure."
"Look properly!" Harry snapped. "I need to know."
Remus was taken aback by the sudden outburst of emotion from the usually reserved boy, but he understood it.
Harry had grown up knowing his parent had been murdered and the werewolf could think of nothing the boy would want more than to know the truth.
Perhaps he wished to deny what was staring him right in the face because it would be the easy option, but the more he looked at the rat, the more he was convinced of the truth.
Had Sirius been innocent all this time?
How?
From what Remus had heard, Sirius had admitted his guilt, had been discovered at the scene of the explosion where the muggles and Peter had been killed, laughing at what he had done.
Had mistakes been made?
Remus did not know, but what he was certain of was that the rat in the picture was undoubtedly Wormtail, which only raised more questions.
Why would Peter feel the need to hide?
Of all the emotions Remus was feeling, confusion was the most prominent. In the last few moments, everything he'd come to believe for more than a decade now seemed to have been turned on its head and he didn't know what to say.
In lieu of his words, he nodded.
"You're sure?"
"I'm sure," Remus croaked as he took a seat. "What makes you so certain Sirius is telling the truth?"
"Because he delivered this note to me along with a gift," Harry explained. "If he wanted me dead, it would have been the perfect opportunity for him to do it. No one would have known. Besides, I wasn't convinced until you just confirmed it for me."
"I should have known Halloween wouldn't be the end of it," Remus sighed, rubbing his eyes tiredly. "I suppose we should get Peter just to be certain."
"He's not been around since before Christmas," Harry explained. "I've been keeping a look out for him."
Remus cursed under his breath.
"Were all of you Animagi?" Harry asked.
"Something like that," Remus sighed. "It was your father who figured out how to do it. James was incredible at Transfiguration. He taught Sirius and Peter when we were in third year."
"What form did my father take?"
Remus smiled at the eagerness of the question.
"James was a stag," he revealed. "Of course, you know Peter is a rat, and Sirius is a black, shaggy dog."
"What about you?"
Remus shook his head.
"I can't become one," he murmured. "My illness prevents it."
"Illness?"
Remus nodded as he stood.
"If we can't find Peter, then I would suggest we go to Dumbledore," he urged. "Honestly, Harry, I do not know what to do with what I have learned, but the headmaster will, for what good it will do."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, without Peter, it will be damned impossible to prove anything," Remus explained. "Sirius is the most wanted man in Britain, and I wouldn't put it past Fudge to lock him up without giving him the chance to say his piece."
Harry frowned deeply.
"The more I hear about this Fudge, the less I like him."
"You're not the only one, Harry," Remus sighed. "He keeps the most unpleasant of company, and there would be no benefit to hearing Sirius out. Sirius is the last of the Blacks, so it will be the closest living male relative who is due to inherit when he dies or is back in prison for life. I wouldn't be surprised if Sirius is given to the Dementors for the convenience of it all. As things are, no one would shed a tear for him."
"Who would be the one to inherit everything?" Harry asked. "The Blacks must be quite rich. Sirius gave me a Firebolt."
"Did he?" Remus asked, not surprised by the gesture. "Well, the Blacks are easily richer than the Malfoys from what little I know. It's only even more odd that it will be Draco who inherits the family fortune when he reaches his majority, if Sirius is imprisoned."
"Malfoy?"
Remus nodded.
"His mother is Sirius's cousin. Have no doubt, Harry, Lucius Malfoy will be well aware of the line of inheritance. It would not serve him well for Sirius to be freed, not if he has ambition of the Black wealth being absorbed into his family."
"Crafty bastard," Harry muttered irritably.
Remus nodded his agreement.
"Come, we must speak with Dumbledore urgently. I do not know what can be done, but he is our best hope to see that the truth becomes known."
(Break)
Hiding within earshot of Dumbledore proved to be a rather dull undertaking, but Peter had been safe here for the past several months. There was no psychopathic ginger cat to try to disembowel him, and this was the last place that Sirius would be able to get to him.
However, as Peter listened to the conversation Dumbledore was having with Remus, any safety he felt all but evaporated.
"Remus, you must be certain it is him," the headmaster warned.
"I am completely certain!" Remus huffed. "I would not be here spilling childhood secrets if I wasn't."
The room fell silent for several moments.
"Do you know how Sirius has been getting into the school?"
Peter waited with bated breath for the answer.
Of course Remus knew. The question remained if he would share the second biggest secret shared by the Marauders.
"I can only think of one way," Remus murmured. "Most of the secret passages in and out of the castle we used have collapsed. The only one that remains is behind the statue of the one-eyed witch on the fifth floor. It leads directly to cellar of Honeydukes."
Even after everything that had transpired, Peter felt more than a little resentment towards Remus for breaking the oath they had made as children.
Peter had not even shared his secrets with the Dark Lord or any of the other Death Eaters.
Well, that was not entirely true.
He had given up the Potters, after all.
"I see," Dumbledore said disappointedly. "I am surprised that you did not bring this to my attention, Remus. Harry could have been killed."
"I could have been killed any time since I arrived," Harry interjected. "Pettigrew has been sleeping in my dorm room. Why wouldn't he kill me if he wanted me dead?"
"Because Peter is a coward!" Remus growled. "He would not do anything unless he was guaranteed safety, or he would benefit from it. It's not like he has anyone to do it for or anyone he can run to for safety."
The werewolf received no response.
"Is there something I am missing?" Remus asked.
"Tell him," Harry urged. "At least that way, someone else will know the truth."
"Tell me what?" Remus demanded.
Peter remained as still as he could, his ears poised for the incoming response.
"Voldemort is not dead."
Peter physically recoiled at the revelation of the headmaster.
"Excuse me?" Remus choked.
"I had my suspicions since the night he visited the Potters, and they were confirmed only two years ago when I came face to face with him in the castle. He does not have a body to call his own, but he is very much alive, Remus. One day, he will return."
"And he will come for Harry," Remus whispered.
"Yes," Dumbledore replied simply.
Silence fell once again.
"No, it can't be true," Remus denied.
"It is," Harry assured him. "I saw him for myself. He's not dead."
"Bloody hell, what are we going to do?"
"The same as we did before," Albus murmured. "We will be ready for him, Remus, but we must tread carefully. If this news reaches the wrong ears, it could be disastrous."
"I-I don't know what to say."
"Say nothing," Dumbledore urged.
"I won't," Remus promised. "What about Harry?"
"I'm going to kill him," Harry declared, and Peter was surprised by the dark undertone to his voice that caused him to shudder unwittingly.
James and Lily would never speak in such a way and certainly not with such conviction.
"You can't mean that, Harry," Remus whispered. "Your parents…"
"Are dead," Harry cut him off sharply. "He murdered them, and it was because the rat gave them away. I will catch up with the bastard one day, and when I do, I will make sure the final moments of his life are more miserable than he could ever imagine."
Peter flinched at the threat.
He did not wish to fall into Harry's hands.
Somehow, Sirius had convinced the boy of his innocence meaning there were now those that knew Peter was alive somewhere and responsible for what happened to James and Lily.
For the first time in over a decade, Peter truly feared for his life.
Still, he was safe here, for now at least.
"I do not believe focusing on Mr Pettigrew would be a valuable use of your time, Harry," Dumbledore sighed. "You are doing well in your studies, and you are making rather astounding progress, but you are far from ready to face what is coming, let alone the Dark Lord himself. He is an expert wizard, and perhaps one of the most dangerous seen in centuries."
"He is," Remus agreed. "I witnessed him murder a dozen aurors by himself. They couldn't touch him."
"Then I need to get better," Harry declared, nonplussed by the revelation.
"And you will," Dumbledore encouraged, "but it will take time. Keep working as hard as you are and you will be quite the impressive wizard in your own right. You must, however, tread carefully. Do not be too eager to meet him when he is at his full strength."
"I'm not, but it is as though it is inevitable," Harry said cryptically.
Again, a frustrating silence fell.
"Wait," Remus suddenly declared somewhat excitedly. "We may not need to hunt for Peter at all!"
"What do you mean, Remus?" Dumbledore questioned.
"The map!"
Peter felt his stomach sink.
It was bad enough that the werewolf had spoken of the hidden passages, but now the map too.
"Map?" Harry asked.
"It was something we somehow managed to create whilst we were at Hogwarts. It shows all the hidden places we managed to find and even everyone who was in the castle and where they were."
"That sounds useful."
"And I suppose this map is why Minerva found it difficult to trace you to any scene of your misdeeds?"
"It might have had something to do with it," Remus replied sheepishly.
"Forget reminiscing, where is the map?" Harry questioned irritably.
"Well, that is the problem," Remus grumbled. "Filch confiscated it from Sirius during our seventh year."
"Will he still have it?"
"I don't know. It just looked like an old piece of parchment, so he could have thrown it out."
"What the hell are we standing around here for?" Harry sighed. "You can just ask him for it back."
"You don't know Filch, Harry," Remus snorted.
"Then you distract him and I'll get it."
"How?"
"Tell him you heard Peeves interfering with something, he won't be able to ignore that."
"That could work," Remus mused aloud. "Headmaster?"
"Oh, were you saying something? My mind must have wandered. It tends to do that when I am in the vicinity of a discussion regarding minor rule breaking," Dumbledore replied.
"Come on, Lupin," Harry urged. "Let's see if we can find it. You distract Filch and I'll break into his office."
"You have your father's cloak, don't you?"
That was the last thing Peter heard before he scarpered as quickly as his little legs could carry him.
He could not risk being in the grounds if they did indeed obtain the map.
Nowhere would be safe.
It seemed that he would be taking his leave of the castle sooner than he intended, but he would not be doing so without something useful.
The Dark Lord was still alive, and Peter had information the man would be most interested in hearing.
First, he would need to find his former master, and that in itself would be no easy task, though he did have an idea of where to begin.
The Dark Lord had spoken fondly of his travels on the continent, and he had mentioned more than once that he had grown quite attached to a certain area of Albania.