Tuesday, 14th June

"I genuinely cannot believe, for the life of me, that you actually forgot to bring a pencil to your chemistry GCSE exam!"

Rowle collapsed in the library seat next to him with a groan. He'd had exams for the past two weeks now, but was finally almost finished.

"Look, kid, I had enough on my plate trying to remember the fucking melting point of sodium and what a hazard label on a bottle of lead nitrate means to remember a bloody pencil! And I remembered my pens and ruler, didn't I? It's not my fault they wanted us to write in pencil instead, is it?"

He dug into his bag and pulled out a familiar pencil case, sliding it across the table to him.

"Thanks, by the way. I would've been pretty fucking stuck if you hadn't lent me yours".

"Aren't you lucky I was passing by?"

"Yeah, yeah, you're a real fucking hero, Evans, all you're missing is a bloody cape".

Harry frowned. "Why would my cape have blood on it?"

"It's a figure of speech!"

"Did you learn that for your English exam?" Harry continued before he could retaliate. "And anyways, who says I'm the hero? Why can't I be the villain instead? They get much cooler outfits!"

Rowle snorted. "Nah, you could never be a villain, Evans; you're far too Hufflepuff for that… Now, an anti-hero, on the other hand-"

He shoved his shoulder with a scowl and the older boy laughed.

"Shut up! I'm not an anti-hero! I'm a good guy!"

"Anti-hero's usually are".

"Oh… Then what makes them different from superheroes then?"

"Superheroes do good things to rescue people and save kittens from trees and shit. Anti-heroes do good things for their own benefit". Rowle gave him a knowing look. "Kinda like someone else I know".

"That's not- I'm not- It isn't- Alright, fine, whatever! The point is, you now owe me a boon!"

"Uh, no, I don't!"

"Yes, you do!" Harry snapped, folding his arms across his chest, "You told me that boons were a type of favour that Slytherins used between themselves to trade things! I gave you my pencil case which had all the pencils you needed for your exam, so now you have to do something for me!"

"Wow, that teenage angst is really kicking in these days, huh?" Rowle barely managed to avoid the book thrown at his head - a muggle one, of course, he wouldn't besmirch a magical textbook like that - and laughed again. "Alright, alright! Yes, Evans, I told you that boons are like favours, but I also told you that the parameters of a boon have to be put in place first. You can't just lend something to someone and then turn around afterwards and demand a boon as payment! These things are like- like contracts! You set out the specific rules beforehand and then, and only then, do you trade whatever it is that you want - like how I trade magic books for you doing my maths homework. But I didn't plan on borrowing your pencil case and we didn't agree on any parameters beforehand so it doesn't count!"

"But you also said that there were exceptions!" Harry continued determinedly.

"Yeah. Genuine exceptions! Like if I had wronged you or stolen from you or something bad like that - then you could demand a boon as payment, but not for borrowing a fucking pencil!"

"... I still think you owe me something".

"Isn't getting free access to all the magic you like payment enough?"

"No!" Harry pouted and looked away and after a moment, Rowle sighed. "Alright, look, how about… oh, I don't fucking know; how about I bring you extra books for this summer? And more again in August? Is that a good enough trade for you?"

"... I guess".

He still felt cheated though, and with a huff, he turned back to his book on historical Dark Lords... which was apparently very rare and difficult to come by but Rowle had lent it to him anyway, so maybe he should let up a little?

"And what if I sweeten the deal?" the blond continued with a knowing smirk as he reached into his school bag once more, "By giving you a copy of last week's Daily Prophet perhaps?"

Harry lunged for it.

"What? When did you get that? How did you get that? I asked you about it yesterday and you said you'd forgot!"

"Kid. I just forgot a fucking pencil for a GCSE exam. I think we can all agree my brain's a little fucking fried right now". Rowle finally, finally, handed over the rumbled paper. "I found it in my trunk this morning while looking for clean socks; I must've packed it last weekend. And, look!"

He pointed at the large headline that dominated the entire front page, and Harry scanned it, abruptly stilled, and then forced himself to keep breathing even as he risked getting a papercut from how quickly he unfolded last Friday's edition of the Prophet.

THE TRUTH REVEALED: SIRIUS BLACK INNOCENT, PETER PETTIGREW SENTENCED TO AZKABAN FOR LIFE

By Rita Skeeter

In a stunning turn of events that has rocked the very foundations of the wizarding world, Sirius Orion Black, once infamously known as the betrayer of the Potters, has been exonerated of all charges. Just this morning, the Wizengamot bore witness to a trial that will go down in history as one of the most significant miscarriages of justice ever to be rectified. Peter Pettigrew, long believed dead and heralded as a martyr, was revealed to be alive - and the true perpetrator of the heinous crimes for which Black was wrongfully imprisoned.

It was a sight to behold as Sirius Black, still gaunt and bearing the marks of twelve long years in Azkaban, entered the courtroom with his head held high. The atmosphere was electric with anticipation and tension, with every corner of the room packed with witches and wizards eager to witness the final unravelling of a tale woven with deceit and betrayal.

The proceedings commenced with a thorough examination of the evidence that had, shockingly, never been properly reviewed before the rightful Lord Black's initial incarceration. It became glaringly apparent that the original investigation had been marred by haste, assumptions, and a disgraceful disregard for due process. But the true bombshell of the trial was the testimony of Peter Pettigrew himself, brought in under heavy Auror guard.

Pettigrew, who had been hiding in disgrace as a rat (quite literally, as an unregistered Animagus), finally cracked under the weight of Veritaserum. His cowardly betrayal of the Potters, his framing of Sirius Black, and his faked death were laid bare for all to see. The courtroom was deathly silent as Pettigrew confessed to being the true Secret-Keeper for the Potters and admitted that it was he, not Black, who had led Voldemort to their doorstep.

As Pettigrew's words rang through the chamber, gasps of shock and outrage echoed from every corner. Witches and wizards who had once cursed Black's name now found themselves stunned into silence, realising the depth of their error. It was a sobering moment as the truth was finally unveiled, clearing Black's name in a blaze of vindication.

Minister for Magic Cornelius Fudge was visibly shaken by the revelations and, once the verdict had been declared, took the stand to issue a public apology to Sirius Black on behalf of the entire Ministry of Magic. His predecessor, Millicent Bagnold, the Minister for Magic during the time Black was wrongly incarcerated, was noticeably unavailable for comments.

In an unprecedented move, the Ministry awarded Black a substantial sum in compensation - a figure rumoured to be over two-hundred-thousand Galleons. Although no amount of gold could ever make up for the years lost in Azkaban, it was a gesture of the Ministry's contrition, and a desperate attempt to salvage some shred of its reputation.

But, as many noted, this was not just an apology to Sirius Black. This was an apology to the House of Black, one of the most powerful and ancient noble families in wizarding Britain. The realisation that they had wrongfully imprisoned the heir to the dukedom of London without so much as a trial had sent shockwaves through the upper echelons of wizarding society. The Ministry, now tripping over itself in its efforts to atone, has drawn the ire of many who are demanding an inquiry into how such a travesty could have occurred in the first place.

Peter Pettigrew, once a pitiful figure in the annals of history, will now live out the remainder of his days in Azkaban, stripped of any honour he once may have commanded - including the Order of Merlin, First Class awarded for his "confrontation" with Black. As the chains were clasped around his wrists and he was led from the courtroom, Pettigrew's fate was sealed - forever known as the traitor who lived, only to rot away in the very prison he had condemned another to.

The aftermath of the trial has left the wizarding world reeling. Questions are being raised about the Ministry's competence, the fairness of our justice system, and the sheer number of lives that were shattered by one man's cowardice. In an ironic twist of fate, Sirius Black, once hunted and feared, is now lauded as a victim of gross injustice, while Peter Pettigrew, the supposed martyr, is revealed as the true criminal.

As the trial concluded, Sirius Black exited the courtroom to a crowd of onlookers, who, only months ago, would have shunned him. He offered no comment to the press, even when this intrepid reporter asked if he intended to claim his dukedom, but the look in his eyes said it all. He is a man who has endured the unendurable and emerged on the other side with a strength that few could muster. Though his ordeal is far from forgotten, Sirius Black stands today as a symbol of resilience and the enduring pursuit of justice.

And as for the Ministry? The echoes of this trial will reverberate for years to come, a stark reminder that even those who hold power must answer for their mistakes. The wizarding world will be watching closely to see just how the Ministry intends to restore faith in its battered institution.

For now, Sirius Black is free, and the truth, at long last, has been set free with him.

Sirius Black was innocent. His father's best friend was innocent. The man he'd blamed for causing his parents' deaths was innocent.

And as for Peter Pettigrew…

He was the real spy, it would seem. The traitor within their midst, right underneath Albus Dumbledore's nose. Harry couldn't believe the pure and utter prejudice that the Headmaster had shown - suspecting Black just because of his family? Believing him to be responsible for the murder of his best friends all because of… what? His parents were Dark wizards? The Blacks were traditionally into Slytherin? But Pettigrew, poor innocent Gryffindorish Pettigrew - why, he couldn't possibly be the traitor, right?

They had condemned the most unlikely suspect to a lifetime in Azkaban rather than the cowardly man who hadn't even been that close to the Potters all because of his name?!

Was Sirius Black even a Dark Wizard?

Harry knew that he had to calm down before Rowle noticed something was up, so instead, he tried to focus on the fact that at least now, the headache that was the Black line of succession had finally been cleared up.

Now that Sirius Black had been declared innocent, he was the rightful heir once more and if he had any sense, then he'd claim that title sooner rather than later. His Grace the Duke of London would have already been a formidable figure with the chaotic power of the Black magic running through his veins and a powerful duelist in his own right too, but a relatively sane and innocent Most Noble Sirius Black, Duke of London, who had survived twelve years in Azkaban?

Harry could only imagine the look on the members of Wizagamot's faces.

In fact, the only possible family politically strong enough to oppose him now were the Malfoys - but given that the Malfoy heir was currently the only reasonable candidate for the London dukedom once Black died, Harry imagined that they would be very very slow to speak against him.

From what he'd seen in his history books so far, Slytherins were nothing if not masters of playing the long game.

He wasn't even sure if Black would be opposite the Malfoys in Wizengamot anyway, although if he really had been one of Dumbledore's and had close ties with the Potters, then chances were…

From what Rowle had told him, there were currently three main political parties in wizarding Britain. The current government was called the Progressive Party which, for many years, had been jointly run by Dumbledore, the Longbottoms, and the Weasleys. But then Dumbledore had become Chief Warlock, a position that meant he legally had to remain politically impartial, and Frank Longbottom had been declared legally insane while his son and only heir was still too young to take over, and the Earl of Hampshire, Arthur Weasley, didn't really seem all that capable of leading the Party by himself.

Although from what Harry remembered, the oldest Weasley child had been next in line for the Marquess of Shropshire title given that he was the next male heir of the Prewett line, so perhaps he'd already claimed his seat and was leading the Progressives now instead?

Either way, if Sirius Black stayed underneath Dumbledore's thumb, then he'd no doubt be joining them as the Duke of London - and since a duke was higher up the political ladder than a marquess, he'd become the Progressive Party's new leader.

Unless he joined the opposition, that was.

The second largest political group was the Conservative Party, which stood for everything traditional and old and pure. Lucius Malfoy, unsurprisingly, had been in charge of them for quite a number of years now, being the Duke of Wiltshire, but perhaps Sirius would…

No. Probably not. Harry shook his head to dismiss the thought. If Sirius Black had turned his back on his family so thoroughly as to become one of Dumbledore's chosen few during the last war, then it was highly unlikely he'd return to his family's "traditional" beliefs now.

He could become a crossbencher, perhaps, which was the third political party - although they were so few in number it was almost laughable. From what Rowle had told him, there were approximately twenty-five Progressive members, just under twenty Conservatives, and only six crossbenchers - witches and wizards who didn't believe in complete modernisation or traditional pure-blooded ways, currently led by the Viscount Rutland, Edward Greengrass. Black would have no reason to align himself with them either.

Of course, every party would be tripping over themselves to apologise to Sirius Black now that he was officially declared innocent. Sending someone to Azkaban without a trial was one thing, but sending the heir to the most powerful dukedom in wizarding Britain was quite another.

Harry wondered just how corrupt the Ministry of Magic was for Black's arrest to have even happened in the first place.

The more he read and the more questions he asked Rowle, the more issues he saw - and it was frustrating him to no end. There were just so many bloody problems that he could see easy solutions for! Maybe he was being naive and his solutions wouldn't work in practice but he didn't think so. They made sense to him, at least, and he'd even told Rowle about a few and he'd agreed with him too! So was the Ministry so corrupt that they needed an excuse to keep the people down and unaware? Or were they just that stupid that they couldn't see the answers right in front of them?

Maybe, Harry reasoned, he could only see the solution because he grew up in the muggle world. Or maybe because, for all intents and purposes, he was an outsider. Or maybe it was even because the abuse he suffered at the hands of the Dursleys had made him resourceful enough and resilient enough to find solutions that others couldn't. But surely there had to be someone in the Ministry who could see how bad things were - other muggle-raised wizards or muggle-borns at least!

But then again, they joined Hogwarts when they were only eleven years old; young and impressionable. They were told that this was how the wizarding world works - so why would they question it?

Harry had to admit that he was rather… uniquely positioned, being able to stand on the outside and look in, having the benefit of both muggle and wizarding education, balancing precariously on the thin, thin line that separated both worlds. He wanted to change it, the Ministry. He wanted to change everything! But that idea seemed ludicrous to him even as he thought it. He would only be turning fourteen in a few weeks, and he wasn't even technically a part of the wizarding world yet… but surely that was no reason not to start planning now, was it?

Maybe he could change the Ministry. He had an earldom and potentially a dukedom waiting for him, after all. And if this Sirius Black fellow really had been best friends with his parents then… then maybe he could help him? He was a better option than Dumbledore, that was for sure, and, in reality, he was his only option given that the only other duke was Lucius Malfoy, who'd been the Dark Lord's right-hand man.

You know.

The Dark Lord that Harry had supposedly killed?

Somehow, he didn't think that His Grace the Duke of Wiltshire would be all that willing to help.

The Potters had been members of the Progressive Party for as long as there'd been a Progressive Party, and he knew that he'd be expected to join them too, once he came of age. Harry still wasn't entirely sure that he agreed with their beliefs yet, but he figured that he had another three years to work all of that out. The most important thing was that Sirius Black believed that he'd be joining the same party as him, and then, he might be willing to help him write whatever fancy law things he had to in order to improve the wizarding world.

But first, he should probably learn what the correct term was for that whatever fancy law thing, huh?

"Hey, Rowle?" he asked, still staring down at the Prophet in his hands, "You know what would really make me forgive that favour you owe me?"

"For the last fucking time, Evans, I don't owe you nothing!" He scoffed and rolled his eyes, but turned back to him after a moment anyway. "... Alright, fine, I'll bite, what is it?"

Harry grinned, folding up the newspaper and hiding it beneath a muggle textbook.

"How much do you know about wizarding law?"

Saturday, 18th June

Albus Dumbledore had told Sirius to wait until the school term ended and St Mungo's declared him healthy enough to be released before visiting Hogwarts to see the Book of Admittance.

And yet, despite that, he somehow wasn't surprised in the slightest when a still very un-healthy Sirius Black showed up on his office doorstep a mere day after the students had gone home for summer.

The young man stepped into the room, looking much like a shadow of the boy that Dumbledore remembered. The grey eyes that had once sparkled with amusement now held a haunted depth, and his hair, though still artfully messy, had yet to regain its lustrous shine from before. His clothes hung loosely on his frame too, no matter how finely tailored they were - evidence of starvation that not even two weeks with the best healers in Britain could erase.

"Sirius" he greeted, his voice a mixture of warmth and concern, "I wasn't expecting to see you quite this soon".

The man gave him a somewhat rueful smile. "You didn't honestly think I'd wait around for this, did you?"

"And St Mungo's allowed you to leave?"

"Well… let's just say I didn't exactly ask for their permission, so technically, they didn't say no".

Dumbledore was suddenly hit with a pang of nostalgia so intense that he felt unmoored, unbalanced, unstable - memories flashing through his mind of those same mischievous grey eyes and overly innocent expression - and it was horrible, truly so very horrible, not seeing him flanked by three sheepish, grinning faces.

He took a slow, deep breath to regather himself, before standing up and gesturing towards the door.

"Shall we?"

"After you".

They made their way to the tower in silence and Dumbledore graciously didn't ask if the man was alright whenever he lagged behind. He had clearly set both his mind and his heart on seeing Harry's name in the Book, and he knew that nothing he said or did would dissuade him now.

He didn't know what he'd do if Hogwarts refused to allow him entrance, but thankfully, even the castle seemed self-aware enough to know that this was a need rather than a want, a necessity for the future Duke of London's sanity - as well as his will to live.

Stepping into the small circular room, they slowly walked over to the old wooden table where the ancient relic lay.

"The Book of Admittance" Dumbledore said quietly, "I do not doubt that you'll keep your word, my boy, but I fear that I must insist yet again how crucial it is that you don't tell a soul about what you see today. If the Ministry of Magic found that Hogwarts has a magical artefact powerful enough to tell if someone was dead or alive…"

"I understand, Albus" he replied, "I don't care why it's here or what it does - I just want to know that Harry's still alive".

Nodding, Dumbledore turned back to the Book and said in a loud, clear voice.

"Henry James Potter".

The old yellowing pages started flipping over and over before he'd even finished his request, going back through a decade's worth of names before-

Henry James Potter

The writing was as black and glossy as ever.

"He's still alive?"

There was a noticeable tremble in Sirius's voice.

"He's still alive" Dumbledore confirmed gently, "If he were deceased, then his name would be scratched out - a single line straight through the middle. Only the names of those who are still alive and well remain untouched".

It looked as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders as the man almost sagged to the ground next to him, and the Headmaster knew, no matter how unorthodox it was to show him the Book of Admittance, it had still been the right thing to do.

"Now that you have seen it yourself, my boy, perhaps we could return to my office for a nice pot of tea? I recently received a new batch of Cockroach Clusters too".

"I never thought I'd say this, Albus, but I'd genuinely love a Cockroach Cluster right now" he replied, grinning at him, "I haven't had one in years! Not since I was a kid, I think".

"Well then. That's what we'll do".

Turning back towards the door, he had almost reached it before he realised the man hadn't joined him. Glancing back, he found Sirius still staring at the Book, although instead of the previous relief that had covered his entire face, there was something almost… uncertain in his current expression.

"Sirius?"

The man opened his mouth, paused, and then closed it again. He wasn't looking at Harry's name anymore either, but rather the Book of Admittance as a whole.

"Could I… Could I ask it for something?" His voice was hesitant, almost unsure. "For- For someone?"

Dumbledore frowned, somewhat bewildered, but agreed all the same. It was only when Sirius spoke that he realised just what - or who - he was asking about.

"Regulus Arcturus Black".

The pages flickered once more, going back and back and back as the Headmaster slowly, cautiously, returned to the man's side, watching as he watched the Book with an intense, heart-breaking hopeful look.

And there it was.

Regulus Arcturus Black

The name was there, written in ink as black as Harry's… but unlike Harry's name, this one was marred by a single, deep scratch that ran through each of the pristine letters.

Sirius stared at it, his expression now unreadable. For a long moment, he said nothing, simply examining the evidence, the confirmation, of his brother's death as if willing it to change. As if willing himself to finally accept it. But the name remained as it was, and the reality of it settled over him like a cold, heavy blanket.

"Thank you" Sirius finally whispered, his voice hoarse even as he swallowed hard and then coughed to clear it, "I just, uh… I needed to know. For definite, this time".

Dumbledore didn't know the full story of the man's younger brother. He'd doubted that anyone but his family knew, but now, it would seem, that not even they had ever found out the truth.

"Your parents never recovered his…"

"Body?" Sirius gave a harsh bark of a laugh. "No. They didn't. Not that they'd ever tell me even if they had, of course, but… well, we all knew what happened, really. He was marked at sixteen, did you know?"

"No, my boy, I'm afraid I didn't".

"Dear old mother was very proud of course, even though she never lowered herself to be branded - just offered up her child like a sacrifice instead… I never knew what happened to him. Still don't, I guess. The rumours said that he got in over his head, panicked, tried to back out… but one did not simply back out of being a Death Eater… Still, though. It's, uh… It's good, to know, to- to finally have confirmation that he's-"

Sirius cut himself off, his voice breaking on that last word, his eyes blinking furiously, and Dumbledore kindly looked away until he'd composed himself once more.

"At least Harry's still alive" he finally said, his voice less wavered than before, "That's the main thing. My godchild is still out there, somewhere, and- and I'm not going to stop looking until I find him".

When he turned back to Sirius, he saw that the man had straightened, some of that old determination returning to his posture. Dumbledore smiled gently, a warmth in his eyes that hadn't quite dimmed despite all that had happened in recent years.

"And find him you shall, my boy. I have no doubt of that… But now, perhaps, a cup of tea? I promised you some Cockroach Clusters after all".

"Yes, you did. And I should also probably Floo St Mungo's before they send out a search party. And Remus, too. And probably a few other people - I didn't exactly tell anyone I was sneaking away so they're more than likely freaking out right now".

Well, Dumbledore reasoned, it would truly be most un-like Sirius Black to return to Hogwarts and not cause some sort of trouble.

Monday, 20th June

As soon as Hogwarts ended and there was a lesser chance of any word reaching the Headmaster's ears, Tom started to move.

He already had Randolph and Theodore on his side, and Quirrell too, although he wasn't half as amusing a conversationalist as his old friends were, which just left the rest of his Death Eaters. Letters were soon sent out to those he could trust the most - a number that was appalling and somewhat reproachingly small.

His new identity was as secure as the goblins could possibly make it, and he had all the necessary paperwork to be submitted to Wizengamot. It would take a few weeks, if not a few months, for all of that to be sorted enough for him to officially claim the Duke of Lincoln title. But his background was now foolproof, and hopefully, by the time his request for the dukedom was approved, he'd be after regaining more of his soul too.

He still hadn't reabsorbed enough to maintain his sanity without the Elixir or Life's help - a fact that led to no small amount of teasing from Randolph and Theodore both. He was making good progress in that area too, as he no longer automatically went for his wand whenever they made a smart comment, instead recognising the playful banter for what it was rather than as a threat.

Which also meant it was time to meet his old followers once more.

Some, he knew, would be persuaded enough by letter, but there were others; those who had turned their backs on him after his demise, that would need a more… hands-on approach. It was grating to realise that he himself couldn't turn his own back on the lot of them in response now that he'd returned. He could do so for some of them, yes, but there were a select few whose positions and particular skill sets would only benefit him.

Lucius Malfoy was one such prime example. The man was an absolute fool, of course, and a cowardly one at that, but he was excellent for making connections, and given that Tom planned to fast-track his way through the Ministry, he'd need Malfoy's insights on the comings and goings of certain Ministry officials.

Severus Snape, of course, posed a more… difficult problem. He was intelligent, incredibly so, proven by him being the youngest Potions Master in Europe, not to mention all of the Dark charms and spells he'd created over the years. He was a Master Duelist now too, according to Theodore, who had kept tabs on the man once he'd realised just who his son's Head of House would be. Severus was undeniably an asset, no matter how… misguided he currently was.

Tom decided to postpone calling for him for now. He had no doubt of the man's true loyalty - to the Dark Arts, at the very least, if not to his cause - but given that he was trapped under Dumbledore's watchful gaze, he didn't want to contact him any earlier than necessary and risk both his own and his spy's position.

According to Randolph, Severus was one of the very few who hadn't denounced his loyalty to Lord Voldemort once the war had ended - although he noticeably hadn't confirmed it either. If it hadn't been for Dumbledore's intervention, he'd have been carted off to Azkaban with Randolph's own sons and daughter-in-law. Clearly, the Headmaster had struck some sort of deal with him, although what that was still eluded him.

Nevertheless, he'd find out, eventually.

After all, the great Albus bloody Dumbledore had a new toy to play with now - and it had irritated Tom to no end to realise that Black had been found innocent and subsequently released.

He'd known of the man's innocence, of course, but he'd been an important chess piece to keep off the board now that Tom planned on returning to the wizarding world. Dukes held the highest positions in Wizengamot and therefore held the most power when it came to passing or rejecting bills. Before now, he had counted on those deciding votes being cast by himself and Lucius, as the only two extant dukes.

Now, however, they would have Sirius Black, the Duke of London, to contend with as well. It would make his planned future changes harder to make, and a lot of his more… unorthodox laws infinitely more difficult to pass, but there were ways around all of that, he was sure. From the little reading Tom had done so far, a lot of bills were passed regardless of unanimity provided that the majority of the dukes agreed with it - so as long as Black didn't kick up too much of a fuss, his goals should continue unhindered.

He also, reluctantly, grudgingly, had to respect the man for surviving Azkaban for as long as he did with most of his sanity intact, and he even felt a certain degree of gratefulness towards the man for finding Peter Pettigrew for him.

Tom had gone far too long without his favoured wand, after all, but now, at last, he had a rat to tell him exactly where it was.