Storytime with Rachel F Hundred

3rd July 1995

Harry held Hermione’s hand tightly as they watched Theo walk inside the mausoleum carrying the urn with his father’s ashes. Only a small group of adults accompanied Theo; Sirius in his role as Lord Black, and Andy and Ted as Theo’s foster parents. The rest of the family funeral party remained outside of the white edifice at the far corner of Nott’s estate.

A brush of wind swept through the small family graveyard and Harry shivered despite the warming spell.

Hermione pressed closer in response and he leaned into her gratefully. She had been a rock since his return. After hugging him tightly enough that he had trouble breathing, the pair of them had spent most of their waking hours together, both within the alliance group of heirs gathered at the Estate and alone. They’d talked about their experiences in the battle; shared how terrifying it had been; shared their fears for the other. They’d come through it closer than ever.

Harry wore the necklace Hermione had gifted to him at Christmas again. She had given it back to him and when he’d touched it he’d felt how it sang with Morgana’s magic. The necklace was imbued with Morgana’s blessing. He’d tried to give it back to Hermione but she had been adamant it was his. Instead, Harry had created a similar necklace; he’d imbued it with the family magic protection and gifted it to her. She had immediately put it on.

It made him feel better to know she was protected especially as the DOM was still investigating the implications of Morgana choosing Hermione as her avatar. Hermione would be spending part of her Summer helping the DOM research and she was very excited about it.

Harry let his gaze wander.

To his right, a heavily pregnant Narcissa sat on a conjured bench. Lucius sat beside her. He would never walk without a limp again and he would always suffer pain. Harry felt it was poetic justice given Lucius’s previous crimes. The Malfoy patriarch was family and had helped them but it didn’t negate that Lucius had only done so because he had been trapped into it by primacy and vows securing his compliance.

Draco hovered by his mother. The blond Slytherin was much more solicitous of her than of his father, Harry noticed. He had certainly taken on a maturity that had been lacking prior to the battle. Draco had admitted to Harry he had been given a wake-up call seeing Diggory die and taking part in the Hogwarts spell. His whole life had been rearranged for him in the space of a single moment. Harry wondered again at what the Hogwarts spell would mean for Draco – and for Ron, Luna and Sue. Minerva had agreed to allow a meeting in her office with the dragon once Hogwarts was approved as structurally sound enough.

The Hogwarts’ Headmistress sat on another conjured bench with Dora; Remus stood beside his wife, their hands clasped together. They looked sombre and tired. Harry knew they’d already attended a number of funerals during the week Harry and Sirius had been at the Valley, and in the couple of days since their return.

Sirius had point-blank refused to let Harry attend every funeral, noting it would take its toll and it wasn’t necessary. They would attend Lord Nott’s because of Theo; Dumbledore’s because it was right to honour the sacrifice he’d made for the two of them; and, they’d attend the Ministerial memorial service for all the men, women and magical creatures who had been killed or injured in the battle. Harry hadn’t argued, grateful in truth and relieved not to have to attend every funeral. He’d felt regret over missing the Diggorys – although Remus had informed him that had been kept to close family only – and Caro’s.

Bill was absolutely heartbroken. Harry could appreciate why. He knew the pain of having a loved one sacrifice themselves for you. He and Hermione had spent the previous evening just sitting beside the eldest Weasley in the drawing room doing nothing more than simply providing a comforting presence.

Theo finally emerged from the mausoleum, flanked by Andy and Ted. The Slytherin looked pale but composed. Harry had spent some time with him that morning and knew Theo was grieving deeply for his father, no matter the mask he wore for the rest of the world. When Theo had asked Harry to tell him exactly how Benjamin Nott had died, Harry hadn’t been able to refuse him, especially not after the sacrifice Nott had made to protect his family.

Harry couldn’t help be grateful his own father had survived and he watched comforted as Sirius left the mausoleum and helped Theo seal it. He squeezed Hermione’s hand. The reception would be held back at Nott Manor and everybody would be waiting for them.

They walked slowly up the path to a small shed. It was actually a magical lift that would take them back to the manor.

Sirius and Theo went first along with Narcissa. When the shed flashed empty, Lucius, Draco, Dora and Minerva were ushered into it next. Remus accompanied Harry and Hermione.

They exited out of a broom closet in the hall of Nott Manor.

Remus pointed them towards the left. “There’s been a room set aside for you young people. Theo will join you once he’s made the rounds with Sirius.”

Harry nodded. Hermione tucked her arm into the crook of his and they made their way into the room.

It was crowded.

One corner of the room was filled with the heirs who had Houses which held détentes with the House of Black. With Harry’s testimony of how the likes of Selwyn and Wilkes had defied Voldemort, and after holding talks with them, the Ministry’s emergency tribunal had declared them free of all charges. Sirius had told Harry he’d supported the decision. There was no evidence that they’d acted criminally and, rightly or wrongly, they’d been cleared from their activities as Death Eaters at the end of the previous war. They’d all received an official warning for showing up in response to Voldemort’s call in the first place but otherwise they’d been exonerated.

Harry turned his attention aware from that corner as Hermione tugged him over to the side of the room where the alliance heirs had settled. There was a flurry of greetings. Although he’d seen those staying at the Black Estate, there were a few who hadn’t actively been involved with the battle and who’d remained in their own homes such as the Sapworthys and Inglebees. They finally settled onto a large settee.

“Merlin, this is depressing.” Draco commented as he took the chair next to Harry, glaring at Lydia Inglebee who had been creeping closer and closer.

“It is a funeral.” Neville commented dryly from beside Hermione.

Sue tucked up between Neville and Ron gave a snort of agreement.

“I know that.” Draco said tersely. “I’m just…”

“Stating the obvious.” Blaise chipped in, sitting down beside him.

“Theo seems to be holding up.” Sue sighed heavily. “Bad enough that Ced didn’t make it, but I don’t know what I would have done if…I mean, Dad’s ankle is still giving him gyp but at least he’s alive.”

“At least he’ll walk without a cane eventually.” Draco pointed out.

“We all came a little too close to losing our Dads.” Ron said.

Neville ducked his head and Harry shot Ron a look for his insensitivity, because it wasn’t like Neville’s Dad was going to ever recover. The redhead winced but he shrugged helplessly even as Hermione gave him an exasperated glare.

“Hey guys.” Lavender greeted them in a subdued voice and Blaise sprang up to make room for her and the Patil twins to sit.

Blaise darted a look at Padma. “Would you like a drink?”

“Thank you.” Padma blushed. “I’ll come with you.”

Harry’s eyebrows rose a little as they walked away. “When did that happen?”

“When they rescued me.” Lavender said with a small smile.

“Blaise really likes her.” Neville confirmed, a hint of mischief entering his gaze. “Especially since he finally realised she’s not a Gryffindor.”

“Well, at least something good came out of the whole thing.” Lavender said brightly.

Parvati rubbed her arm soothingly.

“How are you doing, Lav?” asked Ron a touch awkwardly.

Lavender shrugged but Harry saw the pleased glint in her eye at the question. “Better.” She fidgeted with a button on her skirt. “Colin wrote to me and apologised. He’s offered for him and Dennis to transfer schools.”

“That was good of him to offer.” Hermione said quietly.

“I told him not to be daft.” Lavender said baldly. “It wasn’t his fault.” Her eyes flickered to Sue briefly. “I refuse to let that little bitch win.”

Sue flushed red before she paled. “If you’re expecting me to defend Hannah, don’t.” She tossed her hair back behind her shoulder angrily. “She is a little bitch.”

“She’s a victim too though.” Hermione remarked, wincing as the other girls turned to glare at her. “Look, I’m not defending what Hannah did but Crouch did seduce and manipulate her. She was effectively brainwashed.”

Sue shook her head. “The Hannah I knew would never have allowed that to happen. She was smart. Merlin, she used to tell me off for being too gullible and trusting!”

“Crouch was incredibly clever.” Harry said before Hermione could respond. “Hermione’s right; we shouldn’t forget that he used her even if it doesn’t excuse the actions she took.”

Sue glared at him. “You can remember all you want. Personally, I’m never forgiving her!” She shoved off the sofa and stormed away.

Neville sighed and waved everyone else back. “You’re not wrong, Harry, but neither’s she. I’ll go talk with her.”

Harry rubbed his head tiredly. “That could have gone better.”

“I can’t say I blame her.” Lavender said a touch coldly. “What Abbott did was unforgiveable.”

“No argument.” Harry raised his hand in surrender and glanced in Hermione’s direction with a silent plea for her to let it go too.

Hermione subsided and Lavender shifted in her chair.

“At least they’ve finally brought charges against her.” Parvati said, jumping into the silence. “Do you know when she’ll stand trial?”

“All the trials will take place this month.” Harry said. The Ministry was keen to hold them early to enable the wizarding world to heal as much as it could and move forward.

Blaise arrived back with Padma, carrying drinks. A crease appeared between his brows as he noted Neville’s absence. “Where’s…”

“Harry and Hermione upset Sue by defending Hannah.” Lavender said bluntly. “Neville went after her.”

Blaise raised an eyebrow at Harry.

“We were not defending her!” Hermione said fiercely, jumping to defend Harry. “We were just pointing out that Hannah’s a victim in this too.”

Blaise gave an exaggerated wince. “Well, I can see why that would have gone down like a lead balloon.”

“Harry and Hermione are right though.” Padma said settling into a chair.

“Padma!” Parvati looked at her sister outraged.

“No,” Padma said firmly, “Hannah is a fifteen year old girl who had an evil predator target her.” She stared down her twin. “If you had an attractive man flatter you with compliments and tell you that you were beautiful and adored and the best thing that had ever happened to him, how long do you think you would hold out before believing it and falling under his spell?”

Harry was impressed at Padma’s argument. He could see it hit instantly with Lavender and Parvati. His eyes widened as he caught sight of Sue and Neville approaching behind Padma.

“Of course, she should have told someone but she didn’t.” Padma continued. “And because she didn’t, she ended up more and more under his control to the point where he was able to convince the sky was green and the grass was blue; that her family and friends were wrong and he was right. She made her choices under that delusion and the choices she made were horrible and criminal.”

Harry cleared his throat; he should attempt to curtail Padma’s lecture before Sue erupted – she’d grown steadily red-faced behind the other girl. Blaise was sending a pale Neville a frantic questioning look and Neville shook his head in response.

“She should be punished for those choices but…” Padma sighed and pointed at her sister beside her. “You don’t blame Creevey for attacking Lavender, do you?”

“Of course not!” Parvati said. “He was imperiused!”

“And so was Hannah really.” Padma argued. “Only because he manipulated her without a spell, she’ll face the full weight of the law instead of being acknowledged as a victim of Crouch herself.” She grimaced. “Really, Crouch would have been kinder to her if he had imperiused her.”

“I hadn’t thought about it like that.” Sue said, drawing everyone’s attention.

Padma flushed bright red, turning to face her. “Sue, I’m…”

Sue shook her head. “Don’t apologise.” She inched around the group and retook her seat.

Everyone settled back into position.

“It’s…it’s easier to stay angry with her.” Sue admitted. “Because if I’m angry I don’t think about how much I miss her. She was my best friend.”

Harry gave her a sympathetic smile. “I think Sirius and Remus have some understanding of how you feel. Pettigrew did the same thing to them; to my parents.”

“Sorry for storming off before.” Sue said. “I just…”

“You’re entitled to your opinion and your feelings.” Hermione replied gently. “Hannah was your best friend.”

Harry nodded. “Look, there’s going to be a lot of decision making over the next month about the people who hurt us, who were on Voldemort’s side of this. We’re probably not going to agree about everything especially when it hits close to home.” He looked around the group, determination shining from his green eyes, unaware that most of the room had stopped to listen. “But we didn’t go to war for them to win by us tearing each other apart in the aftermath. Let’s not give them that. We can disagree and we can feel angry and hurt and…and whatever we need to feel but no matter what, we stand together.”

“We stand together.” Sue repeated decisively. “I agree.”

“Sounds good to me.” Blaise said raising his glass.

They all followed his example in a silent toast.

Harry handed his drink to Hermione. “I think I’d better go wrangle Theo out of the main room.”

“I’ll come with you,” Draco said, already moving, “I want to check on Mother.”

Harry exchanged a softly affectionate look with Hermione and fell into step beside Draco.

o-O-o

Sirius was relieved when Harry turned up and shepherded Theo out of the ballroom and into the room they’d set aside for the kids. Theo had done a sterling job of stoically accepting condolences but Sirius knew it had worn on the Slytherin’s control of his mask. Regardless that Theo acted the part of a consummate politician, he was at the end of the day still only a fifteen year old boy who’d just lost his father.

His lips twitched with amusement as he saw Draco checking on Narcissa. The baby was due to be born within a couple of weeks and Draco was determined to ensure his mother received the best care. It hadn’t escaped anybody’s notice that he was also frigidly cold to his father who was battling with a crippling disability. Sirius wondered at the schism. His eyes caught Narcissa’s and she tilted her head in acknowledgement. He’d leave it with her to sort out. He didn’t want to become the type of Head of House who poked his nose into everyone’s business.

“Lord Black.” Stewart Selwyn sidled up to him.

Sirius turned to face him. “Lord Selwyn.”

“Good to see your boy take Theo out.” Selwyn said raising the glass of whiskey he held almost as a toast to Harry’s action.

“I was just thinking the same thing.” Sirius admitted.

“Ben was a very clever man.” Selwyn said. “You know he manipulated this whole scenario? He dies, lauded a hero for standing up to Evil, and his son is now entrenched into the heart of the most powerful political and magical Houses.” He sighed. “A remarkable play.”

Sirius hummed. He couldn’t argue with Selwyn’s summary of Nott’s plan. “He was a father who loved his son very much.”

Selwyn inclined his head. “He was a good friend who advised the rest of us well. I will miss him very much.”

The grief was genuine and Sirius kept quiet allowing Selwyn a moment to regroup.

“I wanted to thank you.” Selwyn said, changing the topic. “For your help with the DMLE yesterday.”

Sirius wanted to shrug but settled for a subtle head tilt instead. The meeting to determine what would happen to the Death Eaters who had answered the call but then stood against Voldemort had taken almost three hours longer than necessary in his opinion.

“I didn’t do much.” Sirius demurred.

“Please,” Selwyn said dryly, “you and I both know that if you had taken Moody’s side and requested a full investigation of past crimes that it would have happened.”

Sirius considered what to say carefully. Selwyn might not have had Benjamin Nott’s intelligence but he was no slouch. “I’m not Dumbledore.” He stated bluntly. “I’m not interested in doing what he did and giving free passes and second chances all the while turning a blind eye to the reality of the crimes that happened simply to stabilise our world quickly.”

“Then…”

“You and your cohorts have already been tried and pardoned for the crimes you committed; the imperius defence accepted.” Sirius said slowly. “I even think for some of you, the family and peer pressures added to the context of the political entrenchment of that time, might even substantiate the argument that there was no choice but to comply with Riddle, even if the absolute truth is that there was no imperius spell involved.”

“That’s…quite a concession.” Selwyn noted gravely.

“Hmmm. The world isn’t black and white.” Sirius said. “There’s a large amount of grey in it. It serves no purpose reopening old wounds.” He held Selwyn’s gaze. “You made a choice this time and it was the right one.”

“Even so, you could have left us in the cold.” Selwyn said. “Supported a ban from political activity or placed restrictions.” He gestured in Sirius’s direction. “You know allowing us into the Wizengamot will mean a continuation of the traditionalist side against the Potter alliance.”

Sirius lifted an eyebrow. “Laws are better when they’re balanced. I may not agree with every argument you make but countering your argument makes mine better.”

Selwyn gave a short laugh. “Ben admired you greatly; I think he may have been right.”

“He admired my Grandfather more.” Sirius replied, amused.

“Who are you planning to nominate for Chief Warlock?” asked Selwyn, switching topic. “I hear rumours that Cornelius is trying to put your name in the frame.”

“I hope not.” Sirius said fervently. He really didn’t want the role. “I was thinking of nominating Griselda. A Chief Witch would make a nice change of pace.”

Selwyn’s eyebrows shot up. “With Griselda it would be entertaining if nothing else.” He glanced to his left and smiled. “I see the formidable Augusta is coming in this direction so I will make my goodbyes. I look forward to working with you, Lord Black.”

“Lord Selwyn.” Sirius shook the outstretched hand and wondered if Selwyn would emerge the leader of the traditionalist group.

It might even be a good choice.

o-O-o

8th July 1995

Harry shivered as he walked down the corridor towards the Headmaster’s – Minerva’s office to speak with the dragon portrait. It seemed strange to think that it was no longer the domain of Albus Dumbledore. Sirius’s hand on his shoulder was comforting and Harry didn’t protest it.

Harry’s eyes had darted about registering that the ongoing repairs as they had walked through Hogwarts; the corridors with scorch marks and signs of spell fire; the broken stairs; the pieces of masonry that still littered the place. There was evidence of the battle in torn portraits and broken statues. Harry had to remind himself that in real time it had only been two weeks since the battle. There was still a lot of repair work to be done. Indeed, the floo was down for repairs, portkeys banned until a full review of the wards could be undertaken, and the group had been forced to walk from the gates.

Behind them Ron walked between his parents, pale-faced and subdued. Draco walked stiffly beside a limping Lucius – Narcissa was far too close to her due date to attend. Sue was accompanied by her father who was also grimacing at the walk on his newly healed ankle, and Luna by hers.

The gargoyle sprang to the side before they gave a password and they all silently trudged up the spiral staircase.

Sirius tapped perfunctorily on the door and waited despite Lucius’s mutterings behind him for Minerva to call out to enter.

The first real difference was the change in layout.

The back wall was given over to the painting of the dragon. Minerva had moved the desk to the right wall and the portraits of the former Heads had moved to live behind her; a portrait of Dumbledore startled Harry for a moment before he realised it was still sleeping. In front of her, the windows were open with the sunlight streaming in to highlight the wooden floor and the Hogwarts shield. The wall behind them had new floor-to-floor shelving with every inch covered in books, except for one shelf which was given over to the Sorting Hat. All the other knick-knacks were gone.

“Come in.” Minerva welcomed them in with a sweep of her arm and in its wake a semi-circle of chairs popped up all facing the dragon painting.

Harry greeted Minerva almost absently his eyes on the picture. Ron had described it to him but his first real glance at it was breath-taking.

She was reminiscent of the Hungarian Horntail he’d faced; a strong lizard-like face, sinuous neck and sturdy body with its wings folded back. She was quietly watching their progress into the room with yellow reptilian eyes.

Harry took a seat. He wasn’t sure why he and Sirius had been invited along. He raised curious eyes to Minerva who had walked over to stand beside the dragon.

“For all of you who have not yet met her, this is Hogwarts.” Minerva introduced the dragon briskly. “She has requested your presence here today to discuss the ramifications of using the spell to wake her.” She looked over at Harry and Sirius. “As you were the one to provide the spell, Harry, and the one to defeat Riddle, she wished to meet you too.”

The dragon rose elegantly to a sitting position. “You are the wizard who protected the world.”

“Yes.” Harry said. “I’m Harry Potter. Pleased to meet you.” He motioned to his left side where Sirius sat. “This is my father, Lord Sirius Black.”

“Where did you learn the spell to wake me?” Hogwarts asked.

“I was visited in a dream by the Founders.” Harry explained. “They told me the spell.”

Hogwarts huffed and a small puff of smoke emerged from her snout. “But they did not tell you all?”

“The time we had through the veil was limited.” Harry admitted.

Sirius cleared his throat. “Are you able to explain further? While none of us would change what happened, I know all of us parents have concerns.”

Hogwarts stared at him for a long moment before lowering her head in acquiescence. “My story begins many years ago…”

Hogwarts was weary.

The last of her brood had flown away from the cold hillside where she had nested for all her life. Her mate had died a month before, his death echoing through their bond as he fell to the blade of one of the humans. With Marrick dead, she would have no more children. Elina had wished to stay but Hogwarts had sent her on her way. Best her child seek out a mate in the lands to the East where dragons still flew. Too many of their kind had fallen in recent times; their numbers slowly decimated as they were hunted by the human folk.

There was a small magical village below, nestled into the foot of the hill and it was beginning to thrive. It was only a matter of time before some precocious youth decided to fight the dragon that lived above them.

It was her time.

She was ready to go.

It didn’t take long.

One wintry night, Hogwarts heard the creep of footfalls against the ground. She roused herself from her warren of caves and emerged into the twilight, her wings unfurling.

“Who comes?” Hogwarts demanded.

There were a group of four; two witches and two wizards – magic wielders like the Emrys.

The dark male grabbed his redheaded companion as he made to draw his sword. “Godric, she speaks!”

“She’s intelligent?” asked the brown-haired witch. “Fascinating.”

“Well, we can’t kill her if she is.” The blonde replied firmly.

“We only have Salazar’s word that she speaks!” The redheaded male argued.

“I speak.” Hogwarts said, narrowing her eyes.

“I think she understood you.” The blonde said wonderingly.

“The language of the serpents!” The dark haired wizard shouted. “I can understand her because I speak the language of the serpents.”

“But how does she understand us?” His male companion questioned.

“Magic.” Hogwarts said tersely. “You came to kill me; you should proceed. Be warned it is in my nature to fight.”

The dark-haired wizard translated for the others.

“Wait!” The brown-haired witch stopped the redhead from drawing his sword again. “You know of magic?”

Hogwarts lowered her head. “All magical creatures know of magic. It has existed for many years before the humans came and it will exist for many years more after you have left this life.”

“Then you could teach us.” The brown-haired witch stated. “We’re scholars.”

Hogwarts looked toward the redhead who even then was fingering the hilt of the sword at his hip.

“He’s retiring from fighting.” The blonde assured her. “We want to build a school.” She gestured at the hillside and the lake. “Lord Black gifted us this land when we petitioned the Wizard’s Council, although he was very amused when he did.”

“And now we know why.” The dark-haired wizard said only to realise he wasn’t speaking in his own tongue when the others looked at him blankly. “I said, ‘and now we know why.’” He repeated. “It is not so much of a loss for him to give us land that we cannot use because there’s a bloody dragon on it!”

“Salazar.” The brown-haired witch snapped out frostily. She turned back to Hogwarts. “What say you, dragon? Will you teach us and allow us to build a school here?” She gestured further to the North. “We could plant a forest where you could live and help defend us.”

“And so the bargain was made.” Hogwarts said.

Harry let out a breath, surprised to realise he had been holding it. Everybody looked spellbound by the dragon’s – by Hogwart’s story. It was actually the story of the founding of the school. Hermione was going to furious not to have come with them, Harry mused ruefully.

“For many years, we lived in harmony.” Hogwarts said. “The four became my friends, my children. They learned of magic and I learned from them of humans, learned to speak their tongue as well as my own. They used my colours in their school and named it in my honour. It was a time of peace and goodwill. Many creatures came and settled within the forest and lake.”

Hogwarts stretched, her wings extending before folding back into her sides. “But the world outside was growing darker. An evil wizard heard of the school and raised an army to take it. I defended her and killed him but I almost died in the attempt, and my friends were afraid. What would happen the next time if I was gone or if the school was attacked beyond their own lives? Rowena had glimpses of a future where battles raged at the school.”

“And so they came up with the spell.” Minerva said quietly.

“We.” Hogwarts corrected. “A willing sacrifice of my own magic, life and spirit; and a willing sacrifice of their own for in performing the magic they bound themselves to me and to the school to which I am bound.”

“Which I guess brings us neatly onto why we’re all gathered.” Richard Bones said.

“Indeed.” Lucius commented.

“You asked our children to pay a price; to bind themselves to the school.” Molly asserted, capturing Hogwarts’ attention. “We need to know exactly what you meant.”

“The original spell took my magic and my four friends to enact. It was powerful, difficult magic. We did not realise that it would take so much.” Hogwarts replied, shifting to lie down. “When we examined the arithmancy in the wake of the spell we realised there was a permanent link between my four friends and the magic of the school; between their lives and my own spirit.” She lowered her head. “Rowena eventually derived the truth; when my four friends died, my spirit would sleep. I needed their magic to anchor my spirit and provide the protection which was needed. It was then we created the spell you used to wake me.”

“So, our magic woke you, and because you needed the magic to continue to protect the school, you needed us to agree to our binding ourselves to you.” Sue said matter-of-factly.

Hogwarts’ eyes flickered to her. “Indeed, Witch of Hufflepuff.”

“But what does that mean?” Richard asked again, jumping in before an annoyed looking Molly could do the same. “You say they are bound to you; how? What does it mean for their lives? For the rest of their schooling?”

“They will be connected to me and the connection will grow while they learn here.” Hogwarts answered. “They may leave but the bond will draw them back eventually. It may take one year or many more.”

“I’ll be gone for twenty.” Luna replied dreamily.

“And so you will, Witch of Ravenclaw.” Hogwarts said, her tone coated with fond amusement.

“When they return to the school,” Minerva asserted herself into the conversation deftly, “they will become staff?”

“Yes.” Hogwarts said. “All times before the four were honoured with the position of the Head of House.”

“Which is when they can put you to sleep again?” Arthur spoke up. “We understand from Minerva that you’ve said only they as the Heads of Houses can put you to sleep.”

“And if they do, does this mean they won’t be bound anymore?” asked Molly.

Hogwarts rose and stretched out her wings. “There is no spell to make me sleep.”

Sirius frowned and sighed suddenly, as though he’d just worked it out. “You slept when the four who woke you died.”

Hogwarts inclined her head.

“Blimey,” muttered Ron, “does this mean we have to die before you go back to sleep?”

“In essence.” Hogwarts confirmed.

“But natural deaths.” Arthur said before anyone else could say something. “You’re talking about natural deaths.”

“The death that will come to them.” Hogwarts said. “Godric died in a duel; Rowena in her sleep. Salazar met his fate attempting a mate for the basilisk he’d raised; Helga from a nasty infection she’d caught helping the centaurs in the forest.”

“There must be some way to break the binding.” Lucius said silkily, his hand smoothing over the top of his cane.

Harry frowned and opened his mouth to speak…

“I don’t want to break the binding.” Draco said tersely. “I gave my word and I have accepted my future is with Hogwarts.”

“You are a Malfoy. You cannot bind yourself to…” Lucius began frostily.

“You did.” Draco snapped. “You bound yourself to the monster. I bound myself to a school to defend against him. I’m not changing my mind.”

Harry shifted inching closer surreptitiously to Draco to offer him some support.

Lucius rose from his seat. “I believe I am not needed here.”

Harry watched as he limped out; nobody protesting his exit.

Sirius cleared his throat. “Lucius.”

Lucius stopped with his hand on the doorknob. He turned back with an inquisitive sneering look.

“By my command as Lord Black you are hereby ordered not to find a way to break the binding between your son and Hogwarts, and not to act to break the binding if a way becomes known to you.” Sirius stated firmly. “Do you understand?”

Lucius went red but nodded sharply. “As you will, Lord Black.” He left slamming the door behind him.

“Well I never.” Molly huffed.

“You told him, Draco mate.” Ron said approvingly.

Draco sniffed imperiously.

“There is more I need to tell you.” Hogwarts said, her gaze landing on Harry.

Harry sighed. “I’m bound too, aren’t I?”

“What?” Sirius glared at the dragon. “Is he right?”

Hogwarts lowered her head deferentially. “In times past, the spell would only be used if there was a great need. The Head of the school would have the task of choosing the four to enact the spell but in choosing…”

“They were also bound.” Harry completed.

Sirius’s hand landed on his shoulder. “And what does that mean for Harry?”

“He’ll be Headmaster of Hogwarts one day.” Minerva supplied dryly.

Harry was surprised at how much that idea pleased him.

“Is she right?” Sirius asked of Hogwarts.

“It is normally the Headmaster who is tasked with the choice,” the dragon said, “and they are already bound.” Her eyes stayed with Harry. “You were chosen by the Founders themselves and in that moment you were bound.”

“So I guess it’s the same as the others?” checked Harry. “I’ll be connected to you now and even though once I’m done with school and I can leave, eventually I’ll become the Headmaster.”

Hogwarts inclined in her head in a gesture he was beginning to realise was how she indicated agreement. “Our connection will be stronger though.”

Harry took a breath. “I think I’d like to teach.”

Minerva smiled widely. Sirius’s hand squeezed his shoulder and he turned to look at his father who was beaming proudly back at him.

“I think you’re going to be a brilliant Headmaster.” Sirius said.

Harry felt the nerves in his belly settle with his father’s straightforward acceptance.

“Well, I think we all have our answers.” Sirius said, looking around at the group and receiving nods in return. “Any other questions?”

There was a collective shake of heads.

“Do you have anything else to discuss with us?” Harry asked the dragon, not realising he had slipped into parseltongue.

“No, my young Mage.” Hogwarts spread her wings out wide. “I look forward to our years of friendship.”

They all stood and the chairs disappeared. Harry said his goodbyes to Minerva and fell into step beside his father as they made their way out of the office and back through Hogwarts.

They paused as they reached the front steps and Harry looked towards the Quidditch pitch with a grimace.

Sirius nudged Harry’s shoulder with his. “You alright?”

“Just…” he shivered, “that’s…” he grimaced and hunched his shoulders as he pushed his hands deep into the pockets of his jacket. “It’s the first time we’ve been back here since.”

Sirius glanced over to the Quidditch pitch. “You want to take a look at it in daylight?”

Harry bit his lip but he ended up nodding. They quietly made their way down the path. He was vaguely aware of a discussion and footsteps behind them but he ignored it, focusing on simply putting one step in front of the other until they came to a stop by the edge of the usual entrance.

The pitch looked like a disaster zone. The grass was blackened and torn up; grooves of dirt criss-crossed over the whole area. The hoops were missing but then they’d been removed to make way for the maze and Harry couldn’t remember seeing them during the battle. The stands were either gone or in ruins.

“Bloody hell!” Ron blurted out behind Harry.

“Ronald! Language!” Molly said, although her hands were clasped together tightly in front of her; her face pale under the freckles.

“Mum!” Ron protested, his hand shooting out to point at the damage. “Look at it! How are they going to get this fixed in time for us to come back and play Quidditch here?!”

“He has a point.” Draco muttered.

Harry shuddered at the idea. “I don’t think I’m going to play Quidditch anymore.”

“WHAT?” Ron’s voice was a shriek more than a yell. “BUT YOU HAVE TO PLAY!”

“You guys played fine without me.” Harry said shaking his head. He couldn’t imagine taking another step forward; taking another step onto the pitch where he’d killed and…where he’d died. “Ginny was great.”

Sirius’s arm landed around his shoulders and Harry leaned it unthinkingly to soak up the support and comfort. “Whatever you decide is fine, Harry…”

“But…” stuttered Ron before he stopped abruptly.

Harry figured Sirius had glared at him.

“Whatever you decide is fine, Harry,” Sirius repeated, “but maybe now’s not the time to make a decision.”

“Can we go?” asked Harry, wanting – needing – to be away from the pitch.

“Sure we can…” Sirius stopped and frowned. He reached into his pocket with his free hand and pulled out a mirror. “Padfoot.”

The mirror’s shiny surface filled with Remus’s face – Remus’s panicked looking face.

Harry and Sirius exchanged a quick look.

“Moony?” asked Sirius urgently.

“You have to come home right now!” Remus said. “Narcissa’s in labour! She’s having the baby!”

“Oh, that’s lovely!” Molly beamed, turning to Arthur with a happy smile of remembrance.

“Mother’s having the baby?” Draco turned and started for the path almost at a run.

Sirius nudged Harry and they quickly followed after him.

“Not to worry, Moony.” Sirius replied. “We’re on our way!”

o-O-o

Sirius hummed softly, rocking the baby in his arms.

Regina Dorea Malfoy was adorable. She was creams and peaches in complexion, startling silver eyes, and a thin thatch of blonde hair. She had weighed in at seven pounds eight ounces, with surprisingly active arms and legs for a new-born, and an impressive pair of lungs.

She was currently slurping down the bottle of milk Sirius was feeding her as though she hadn’t been fed since her birth some fourteen hours before.

They had all hurried back to the Estate from Hogwarts only to wait for hours for the arrival. Narcissa had insisted on staying at the Estate for the birth and a hastily arranged nursery had been organised by the elves.

Lucius had finally shown up two hours after the birth. He’d stank of firewhiskey. He’d taken a brief look at his new daughter before falling into bed in one of the guest rooms, clothes on, and sleeping like the dead.

Narcissa had sniffed in disgust and promptly turned her attention to her daughter.

Sirius hummed again as Regina frowned around her bottle. He smiled down at her. “You are a precious bundle, Reggie.”

“Oh,” Draco’s voice sounded from the doorway, “I didn’t realise…”

Sirius glanced out of the window. It was very early in the morning but he wasn’t surprised that the brand new big brother hadn’t been able to sleep and had intended sneaking a peek.

“She woke up hungry a while ago.” Sirius murmured. He’d set an alarm on the nursery to notify him and not Narcissa. The new mother needed rest and Sirius felt it was his godfatherly duty. He’d done the same for James and Lily with Harry. He motioned for Draco to come further in, pointing at the nearby window seat to the rocking chair Sirius was occupying.

Draco soundlessly entered on bare feet. He’d had the presence of mind to shrug on a dressing gown over his pyjamas but he looked cold.

Sirius sent out a mental nudge and the room warmed.

Draco looked startled.

“One of the advantages of being the Head of House.” Sirius said quietly. He scanned Draco’s face and inwardly debated starting the conversation he figured he needed to have with his young cousin. “So,” he began deciding just to go for it, “what’s going on with you and your father?”

Draco’s head snapped up and for a brief second he stared in shock at Sirius before his usual mask settled on his pointed features. “Sometimes you act like a Gryffindor.” He sniffed.

“That’s because I am a Gryffindor,” Sirius pointed out wryly, “even if I was raised Slytherin.”

Draco’s brow developed a small crease as he considered that. “You act so Slytherin most of the time.”

“I’ve had to,” Sirius said, “to protect Harry.”

Draco slowly nodded. He shifted position, sitting cross-legged on the love seat. “When we did the spell…Hogwarts…Hogwarts judged us. She spoke to us mentally, reviewed our memories and…” he flushed red, “and she found me lacking.”

Sirius stayed quiet but silently urged Draco to continue.

“She showed me a world where you hadn’t become Lord Black and were killed.” Draco continued. “Harry…he still defeated the Dark Lord but my life…” he sighed and fidgeted with the hem of his gown. “The Dark Lord lived in our manor. He…he terrorised and tortured everyone. I…I was scared of him, scared for my life, scared for my mother’s life and my father’s.” He looked up and met Sirius’s cautious and sympathetic gaze. “I was glad when Harry won; glad to be free of that evil.”

“And your father?” Sirius prompted gently.

“In that world Lucius Malfoy was a coward who kissed Riddle’s robe and worshipped at his feet until my mother saved us all and told the Dark Lord Harry was dead when he wasn’t.” Draco said briskly. “My father here…he would have done the same if he hadn’t been forced to bow to the House of Black’s primacy.” His eyes blazed with anger. “He wouldn’t have done as Nott did. He wouldn’t have sacrificed his life so we would have lived.” He gestured furiously. “He blames you for his wound because you forced him into wearing the beacon. If he’d had a choice…he wouldn’t have chosen to stand against that…that monster. He would have given us all to him!”

Sirius adjusted his hold on Reggie, noting she was almost at the end of the bottle, as he considered what to say. “Your father is self-serving, Draco. He always was and I dare say once he’s gotten over his pity party and begins to realise he can brag about his disability as a war wound he received in heroically providing us with a beacon, he will be again. It’s who he is.”

“Well, I don’t want to be like him.” Draco blurted out. “Not anymore. I want to be worthy of the trust Hogwarts said she had in me when she realised how disgusted I was at the other me and my determination never to be like that.”

“You don’t have to be like your father or anyone else.” Sirius assured him. “You’ll always have a place in the House of Black, Draco. You should become the person you want to be and if Hogwarts showed you the way, well, I’m pleased.”

Draco nodded, a pleased flush rising up his neck. “I have a different future now. I want to…I want to be the best Head of Slytherin Hogwarts has ever seen. I want people to think of the House as more than just a place for dark wizards or where He came from.”

“That’s a good ambition.” Sirius commented.

He gently disengaged the empty bottle from Reggie before she started sucking on air. He set it aside and shifted her to burp her gently against the towel which was already lying across his shoulder in readiness.

“Why are you rubbing her back?” asked Draco.

“Babies can take in a lot of air when they suck their bottles.” Sirius explained. “This helps bring up any wind.”

Draco made a pout of disgust.

“You may want to think about how you deal with your father civilly.” Sirius suggested. “You can disagree with his politics, his beliefs and deride his character, but you are still his son and you will need to interact with him during family occasions.”

“I know.” Draco said defensively. “It’s just…” he breathed in sharply and stared up at the ceiling.

“You’re angry.” Sirius said.

“Yes.” Draco admitted with a grudging look at Sirius.

“You can be angry just…”

“Civil.” Draco completed.

Sirius smiled at him.

Reggie burped loudly; a milky bubble of air erupting from her lungs and onto the waiting towel.

“There’s my girl.” Sirius said approvingly.

Draco looked at the milieu in horror. “That’s just…gross.”

Sirius’s lips twitched. “You probably don’t want to experience her nappy either then.”

Draco sniffed haughtily. “I’m her big brother. I should get to do the fun stuff.” He yawned suddenly.

“I think you should probably head back to bed.” Sirius said.

Draco nodded. He slipped off the love seat and with a wistful glance at his sister headed out of the room.

Sirius got to his feet carefully, keeping good hold of the baby in his arms. He headed to the cot and placed Reggie down, drawing up the light cotton blanket to cover her restless legs. He hummed a lullaby he’d once heard Lily singing for Harry and smiled down at the gurgling baby.

“So how much of my conversation with Draco did you hear?” asked Sirius suddenly, surprising the woman who had come up behind him.

Narcissa raised an eyebrow when he turned to look at her. “All of it.” She said crisply. “As you well know since you are unlikely to have missed the baby monitoring charm I left.”

She smoothed a hair back behind her ear and ran a hand down her pristine and tightly belted blue silk dressing gown. She looked stunning for someone who had given birth hours before. She placed a hand on Sirius’s arm.

“Thank you for talking with him, Sirius.”

Sirius shrugged. “He has potential.”

“More now than he ever did as simply Lucius Malfoy’s heir.” Narcissa’s expression softened as she gazed down at her slumbering daughter. She straightened and looked at Sirius. “What do you intend to do with Lucius now you no longer need him?”

Sirius straightened to meet her gaze head on. “What do you want me to do with him?”

“I do not wish to return to my marriage.” Narcissa declared bluntly. “My children and I deserve better.”

“Then we’ll work it out.” Sirius said. “I’ll talk to Lucius later once he’s sobered up.” He planned to offer Lucius exile or Judgement. He had a feeling he knew which the other wizard would take.

Narcissa’s eyes fluttered closed; tension draining out of it so quickly Sirius realised she hadn’t been certain of his response. He reached over and clasped her hand, squeezing just enough to comfort her. She opened her eyes and nodded at him; she was fine.

Sirius let go of her and stepped away from the crib. “I should leave her to sleep.”

“You’re very good with her.” Narcissa said, a hint of bewildered amusement colouring her tone.

“I looked after Harry a lot when he was a baby.” Sirius said dismissively. He gave into the temptation to touch Reggie’s soft cheek again one last time.

“You should consider having some of your own.” Narcissa said.

“No matchmaking.” Sirius instructed briskly, noting the look in her eye. It was far to like the one Andy got on occasion. “You’re not allowed to match-make.”

Narcissa’s lips curved into a slow smile. “Of course not, my Lord Black.”

Sirius looked at her with suspicion. “Hnmpf.” He said eloquently. He glanced one last time at the baby and started for the door.

“Cousin.” Narcissa called out to him softly; her voice low to avoid waking her daughter.

Sirius turned immediately.

Narcissa fell into a deep curtsy. “Thank you, my Lord. For looking after my children so well.”

Sirius smiled warmly. “You’re more than welcome, Cissy.”

And his next stop was going to be his own son’s room.

His mind was a kaleidoscope of memories of his son as a baby, of James and Lily…and he just needed to see him with his own eyes again, reassure himself Harry was alive and well and breathing…

o-O-o

13th July 1995

Severus repressed the urge to squirm. He sat on the fourth tier of the Wizengamot beside Alastor waiting to be called to give evidence. Or rather waiting for the whole damned thing to actually start since they’d arrived early.

He ignored the stares and whispers around him but it was difficult and he took care to hide his mutilated hand out of sight. That it was still functional was a testament to the treatment he’d received – and he thanked Merlin every day that he would be able to brew – but the deep scarring would remain.

Alastor’s presence was keeping anyone from approaching him at least. The Heirs of the Potter Alliance had settled for small nods of acknowledgement as they had taken their places on the bench; his colleagues from Hogwarts the same.

Severus found his gaze drawn back to the central floor. In addition to the usual Ministerial chairs, the seat of the Chief Witch – Griselda Marchbanks had been appointed in an emergency session the previous week – and the clerk’s chair, there was a chair for witnesses. There was a table on the left for the prosecution with a corresponding table on the right the defence. In the middle of the floor was the accused’s chair. Alastor had informed him that the chair had been spelled with security measures to ensure the accused would speak truthfully and could not escape or attack.

A soft swell of noise erupted from the public tier above them and Severus glanced automatically towards the door.

The Minister walked in with Black and Potter.

Immediately a thunderous applause rang out and everyone in the Wizengamot rose to their feet. Severus wanted to ignore Alastor’s tug to rise but he got to his feet, wincing at the tremors and stiffness that still physically assailed him.

Shouts and whistles permeated the air.

Severus wasn’t surprised when Black moved closer to Potter, a hand resting supportively on the boy’s shoulder. For a moment, Potter looked nothing more than a fourteen year old boy who would rather be anywhere else but in an instant his expression changed and he lifted a hand.

Slowly silence descended.

“The Houses of Black and Potter thank you for the welcome.” Potter said loudly. “But we couldn’t have defeated Tom Riddle without a lot of help from our allies and from the Ministry.”

Cornelius puffed up like a proud peacock beside the boy. Potter looked at Black.

“We should focus today on why we’re here.” Black seamlessly picked up as though they had rehearsed it. “There will be time for thanks, remembering those who sacrificed their lives, honouring all who fought, and celebrating our success once we have completed the trials.”

“Well said, Lord Black.” Cornelius said, with a firm look around the chamber.

Griselda rose from her new seat. “Everyone take your seats then so we can begin!”

Severus was grateful to sit back down. He belatedly realised the rest of the House of Black had entered with their Head of House and Heir as he watched them take up the remaining empty positions on the bench beside him.

Minerva sat down on Severus’s left side and gave him a small smile. “Severus.”

He inclined his head, his dark hair falling forward to almost hide him from the penetrative gaze of the Headmistress. She had visited him several times during his stay in Saint Mungo’s; had reluctantly accepted his resignation but wished him well and encouraged him to stay in touch. Severus hadn’t quite decided what it was that he wanted to do with the rest of his life – he had been so ready to die that he had been shocked to wake in the hospital. He had received an offer from the DOM by Croaker personally but…he wasn’t certain he wanted to stay in Britain.

His eyes drifted to the Malfoy seat which was unoccupied.

The only Malfoy in attendance was Draco who sat on the bench some way down from Severus. Draco had taken a seat next to Theo Nott, the two boys seemingly under the supervision of Ted Tonks.

The same emergency session which had installed Marchbanks had also announced Andromeda Tonks would stand as the Regent of the House of Nott. The Malfoys however…

The paper the day before had carried an announcement of the birth of the Malfoy baby girl and Lucius’s retirement from the Wizengamot on health grounds; the House of Black was appointed as proxy until Narcissa would be able to attend as Regent on behalf of Draco until he was of age. Lucius had apparently gone abroad for treatment for the injury he’d sustained but Severus firmly believed he’d never be seen again in Britain. The House of Black was ascendant and the rest of the Wizengamot knew it.

“Seal the doors!”

And the Wizengamot began.

Severus reflected that he hadn’t actually attended a full session for a long time. His mother had brought him as a teenager determined that Severus should have an understanding of politics and the government who shaped their lives. He’d gone as a young man to support his friends who had been or thought to have been Heirs, especially Regulus. But…he had rarely stepped foot in the chamber since the tribunal which had declared him as a spy for Dumbledore at the end of the last war.

“This session of the Wizengamot has been called as a fully public trial for the accused known as Dennis Travers and Peter Pettigrew.” Griselda announced. “The Wizengamot members will hear evidence from witnesses called by both prosecution and defence counsel. A vote will be taken to establish their guilt or innocence of the charges the prosecution has levied. If a guilty verdict is rendered, the Wizengamot will then debate and declare the sentencing.” Griselda looked around the chamber. “Does anyone have any questions?”

There was silence.

“Let me also make one other thing clear,” Griselda said brusquely, “this is a trial not a gladiatorial event. Any, and I mean, any heckling will have the idiot heckler removed from this chamber and barred for the rest of their lives. Do I make myself clear?”

There was a hurried chorus of agreement.

Griselda hummed and threw a look toward Dullard.

Dullard rose to his feet and cleared his throat noisily. “The Wizengamot calls the prosecution and the defence for Dennis Travers to the floor!”

Severus watched as Rufus Scrimgeour took the prosecution table along with a grim looking Malcolm Wood. Across from them, Barry Bootle and a younger witch from his office took the defence table.

“Bring in the accused, Dennis Travers!” Dullard called.

A small door appeared opposite the main chamber entrance; a chained Travers was marched in by two aurors who Severus recognised as the remaining members of the Rat Squad. He was placed immediately into the accused box.

“The prosecution will state the charges!” Dullard declared and sat down.

Scrimgeour got to his feet. “Dennis Travers is charged with the following crimes: belonging to a terrorist organisation known as the Death Eaters, also known as the Knights of Walpurgis; conspiracy to commit a terrorist act at the Quidditch World Cup; committal of a terrorist act at the Quidditch World Cup on twenty-fifth of August of the year nineteen-ninety-four; escaping from custody in September of the same year; conspiracy to commit terrorist acts in sabotaging the TriWizard Tournament in November, nineteen-ninety-four, February nineteen-ninety-five and June nineteen-ninety-five…”

Severus listened as Scrimgeour continued charging Travers with the actual acts of sabotage, murdering Karkaroff, the kidnapping of Potter, and finally the attack on Hogwarts and attempted murder of Alastor.

“How does the accused plead?” Dullard asked.

Bootle stood every inch the polished solicitor with his swept back blond hair and aristocratic manner. “My client pleads not guilty.”

“So noted.” Dullard gave Griselda a nod and sat down.

Griselda stood. “The prosecution may begin.”

Severus took a deep breath. He would be called as a witness but not until the events at Hogwarts were tackled. In the interim he watched as the Scrimgeour showed the Dark Mark on Travers’ arm, the evidence of the Death Eater paraphernalia he had carried at the World Cup and at Hogwarts. He moved on calling the aurors who had arrested Travers at the World Cup and a shaky looking Colin Summers gave evidence of the switch he had been forced to make. Bootle was able to show that Travers had had no knowledge of the escape attempt until it was in progress and had Summers admitting that Travers had potentially had as much choice as Summers in the matter.

Severus frowned as the evidence of the sabotage at the tournament was presented. It was the weakest part of the case and Bootle was able to present reasonable doubt that Travers had played any part, placing the blame wholly on Crouch.

“The prosecution calls Severus Snape!” Scrimgeour’s gruff voice called out suddenly.

Severus gathered his robe and stood up. He made his way down to the witness chair slowly. He took the oath to speak truthfully and sat down with relief.

“The Wizengamot ruled in November nineteen-eighty-one that even though you bear the mark of a Death Eater that you were a spy for Albus Dumbledore and provided him with vital information which he passed onto the relevant authorities.” Scrimgeour began. “When did you resume your spying duties?”

Severus waited until the rush of whispering died away.

“Following the events of the first task of the tournament.” Severus stated clearly. “It was clear that the perpetrators were using the Durmstrang ship as their base with Igor Karkaroff’s compliance, although there was not enough evidence at that time to search the ship. Lord Black requested that I approach Karkaroff to infiltrate into Riddle’s circle once again and upon my acquiescence the Minister and Director Bones officially noted my status.”

“What did you personally observe regarding the accused?” Scrimgeour asked.

“My main point of contact was Bartemius Crouch Junior.” Severus explained. “He informed me that Travers had been the one to kill Karkaroff.”

“The prosecution draws the Wizengamot’s attention to the wand examination previously entered into evidence which shows the wand of Dennis Travers was used to kill Igor Karkaroff.”

“Additionally,” Severus continued once Scrimgeour turned back to him, “Riddle informed me that he had sent Travers abroad to purchase mercenaries and gather allies for when Riddle was resurrected.”

Scrimgeour nodded. “The prosecution enters into evidence the summary veritaserum testimony of the mercenaries tried who stated or identified Dennis Travers as their recruiter.” He motioned for Severus to continue as Wood passed the parchments to Dullard.

“Finally, I witnessed Dennis Travers at the gathering prior to the assault on Hogwarts at the headquarters of the Dark Lord.” Severus finished.

“The prosecution enters into evidence magical forensic analysis of Riddle Manor which confirms Dennis Travers was present at the location.” Scrimgeour gave a satisfied nod. “Thank you, Mister Snape.”

Bootle rose to his feet and walked over to the witness box. “It is true, is it not, that the trial in ‘eighty-one expunged all crimes you committed during the time you were an actual Death Eater and not just a spy?”

Severus barely managed not to grimace. “Yes.” He said tersely.

“On the say-so of Albus Dumbledore.” Bootle lifted his gaze to the section of the Wizengamot most opposed to the late wizard.

Severus glared at Bootle.

“Does the defence have a question or do you just want the opportunity to preen in front of an audience, Bootle?” Griselda asked bluntly.

Bootle jerked as though slapped but he quickly regrouped. “You never gave a full accounting to the court of your crimes in ‘eighty-one, did you?”

“I did not.” Severus said not denying it.

“Hmmm, and yet we’re simply to believe your actions were on the side of the Light on the say-so of Albus Dumbledore.” Bootle said crisply. “Tell me, Mister Snape, how was informing your Dark Lord of the prophecy and placing your childhood enemy James Potter and his family at risk an action for the Light?”

A horrified murmur ran around the chamber and Severus dared not look toward the Potter seat. He knew Black hadn’t ever told Potter…he couldn’t bear to look and see the horror and anger in those green eyes that were so like Lily’s…

It was for the best, Severus determined; hadn’t he already determined his future lay beyond Britain?

Scrimgeour got to his feet and was recognised by Griselda. “Objection. Whatever crimes Mister Snape committed were covered by his previous trial. We have plenty in this chamber who are in the same boat.”

“And crimes committed now?” Bootle strode back to his desk and plucked a parchment from the table. “According to this, Mister Snape actively led Lord Black into an ambush at Yule where Lord Black suffered grievous injuries. He created the potion which resurrected Riddle and he performed the ritual which resurrected him, assaulting Lord Potter in the process!” He handed the document to Dullard. “Surely he should be brought to account for these!”

Bones got to her feet. “Both myself and the Minister provided a blanket permission for Mister Snape in his role as a spy. These acts were known by both us, Director Croaker and Lord Black and were part of the wider strategy to defeat Riddle.”

Griselda nodded briskly. “Mister Snape is not on trial. Move on, Bootle.”

Bootle looked as though he’d swallowed a lemon his expression was so sour but he returned to Severus. “Did you ever see the accused at Hogwarts or on the Durmstrang ship?”

“I did not.” Severus said.

“Did you ever see the accused solicit mercenaries to be in the employ of Riddle?” Bootle continued.

“I did not.” Severus admitted.

“Were any of the Death Eaters wearing masks when you entered the room in the manor?” Bootle asked bluntly.

Severus sighed and nodded before verbally responding with a terse yes.

“Yet you claim you saw the accused?” Bootle smiled like a shark scenting blood in the water.

“I recognised him even with the mask.” Severus said tersely.

Bootle lifted an eyebrow. “The defence has no more questions of this…witness.”

Severus was released and he slowly made his way up to the bench. He wasn’t surprised at the looks of disgust aimed his way and he sat down next to Alastor and a surprisingly sympathetic looking Minerva with a heavy heart.

“I knew, lad.” Alastor whispered under his breath.

“So did I.” Minerva confirmed.

Their support shook Severus and he clamped down tightly on his emotions. He was barely aware as the trial concluded, as Travers was found guilty of the World Cup events, cleared of the tournament sabotage, and found guilty of attacking Hogwarts and Alastor. Travers was sentenced after a short swift debate to life imprisonment.

A recess was called and Severus allowed Alastor to hustle him into a small office.

“Stay here,” Alastor ordered, “I’ll send someone with a drink and something to eat for you.”

Severus nodded uncaringly. He turned his attention to the small bookcase on the far side of the office and began to peruse its contents, desperately trying to keep his thoughts away from the events and disclosures of the trial.

He didn’t turn at the sound of the door opening. “You may leave the refreshments on the desk.” He ordered.

“Sorry,” Potter’s voice had Severus freezing into stillness, “no refreshments.”

Severus turned slowly to face him. “I suppose not.” His fingers twitched to draw his wand to protect himself but didn’t he deserve this? To stand and allow Potter his revenge? “Does Black know you’re here?”

Potter gave a small smile. “He knows. He’s not happy about it but he knows.” He paced a couple of steps before he stopped and once again met Severus’s gaze. “He asked me, you know, back in the Summer, whether I wanted to know. I said no back then but I…” he sighed and pushed his hands deep in his pockets. “I figured it was either you or Lucius based on what was said. I figured it was easier not knowing which of you because I…I didn’t want to know for certain and have to still be civil to you.”

“And now?” Severus bit out.

“Why?” asked Potter bluntly with characteristic Gryffindor bravery. “Why did you tell Riddle the prophecy?”

“Because I was his at the time.” Severus replied without any hesitation. “Because I was young and stupid and I wanted his attention and regard and this was…information; a way in.” He saw how his words impacted Potter like sharp splinters of shrapnel. “It didn’t matter who it was about or whether he would believe it, it was just words that might have won me some favour.”

“And did it?” Potter shot back.

“Yes.” Severus didn’t deny it. “More so when he realised who the prophecy could be about.” He grimaced. “He was aware of my former attachment to your mother.” He raised his eyes to meet Potter’s furious eyes, determined to be brave himself. “I regretted my action in telling him the instant she became a target. By the time I followed Riddle’s directive to throw myself on the Headmaster’s mercy under the pretence of being horrified at placing your mother in danger in order to become his spy at Hogwarts, it wasn’t an act.”

Not all of it.

“When he killed her…I would have stepped between them if I could have.” Severus said.

“Aunt Minnie said you’d resigned.” Potter’s change of subject might have thrown most people but Severus knew what was at the heart of it.

“Yes.” Severus agreed. “I only accepted the position to stay safe in the aftermath of the war and to be in place for your arrival. You’ve defeated Riddle; you don’t need my protection as flimsy as it was and my oath died with the Headmaster.”

There was silence for a long moment.

“I can’t forgive you for painting a target on us.” Potter said eventually. “Whether you would have protected her…your motivations for protecting me…none of it matters. But…you don’t need my forgiveness and I doubt you want it, and really, you’ll have to face my mother one day and make your excuses and apologies to her.”

It was Severus’s turn to feel shredded by shrapnel; to be left feeling raw and exposed, vulnerable.

“I…I appreciate everything you did to help defeat him.” Potter continued. “You’ve spent a lot of time saving me over the past few years and during the ritual…I’ll always be grateful to you for that; I made it through knowing you were there to help me so…” he dragged a hand through his messy hair. “But I don’t…I can’t be around you and since you won’t be at Hogwarts…let’s call it even and go our separate ways.”

Severus breathed out slowly and gave a short nod. “I am planning to go abroad.”

Potter frowned. “I thought you had a job offer from Bertie?”

“In the circumstances…” Severus began.

“You’re going to turn it down because of this? Just…take the job.” Potter said sharply. “You could do a lot of good with it. I doubt my mother would want you wasting your life.” He grimaced. “Not that…it’s not any of my business really.”

“No,” Severus agreed, “it’s not.”

Potter’s eyes gleamed with something hot and angry for a moment. “Have a good life, Snape.” He turned and made for the door.

“Potter.” Severus stopped him before he stormed out. “I am deeply and sincerely sorry my actions led to the death of your mother,” he paused, “and your father.”

Potter turned and nodded, accepting the apology. He swept out without another word.

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose and finally acknowledged the stabbing pain above his left eye.

There was a knock on the door.

“Enter.” Severus said briskly.

A timid looking witch opened the door with a tray of food balanced precariously in her other hand. She placed it on the desk and left him alone.

Alone.

Like always since he’d lost Lily’s friendship and…

The door reopened and Alastor marched in, Croaker following him.

“Ah, good.” Croaker smiled at him. “I was hoping we could speak about the job offer?”

Severus nodded understandingly. “You wish to rescind it after the revelations this morning.”

“What? No,” Croaker shook his head, the wild white strands bobbing frantically, “you’re not the only spy I’ve dealt with and I dare say you won’t be the last. I was hoping we could agree your start date.” He gestured at the tray of food. “Why don’t you eat while we talk? I wanted to bring you up to speed with some of our projects that I’m hoping to get you involved with.”

A stunned Severus allowed himself to be chivvied into a seat and Alastor shoved the soup at him along with a headache potion.

“Eat up, lad.” Alastor said gruffly. “Merlin knows your headache won’t get better listening to Bertie.”

Croaker slapped Alastor’s arm. “Don’t scare him away, Alastor! And besides…”

Severus tuned out their snarking as he turned his attention to his meal. Perhaps, he considered somewhat shakily, he wasn’t as alone as he thought.

o-O-o

Sirius felt Harry start to tense and he eased away from the hug he’d pulled his son into as soon as Harry had entered Amelia’s office.

“Alright?” Sirius asked, resisting the temptation to smooth back Harry’s hair.

Harry nodded.

“I’m…”

“Don’t apologise.” Harry interrupted him sharply. “You asked me in the Summer and I said I didn’t want to know. Bootle’s a prick for announcing it like that in the trial.”

“Well, that’s true enough.” Sirius said.

“He was always an odious little boy.” Minerva agreed.

“How…” Remus let his voice fall away as though suddenly realising Harry might not want to answer the question.

“Snape’s fine.” Harry shrugged. “Shaken up, maybe? Moody was on his way in so…”

So at least Severus wasn’t alone. Not that Sirius cared. Much.

He sighed. He and Severus had evolved a mutual grudging respect during the run-up to defeating Voldemort and, while Sirius would never forgive him for what he had done in the past, it didn’t mean he was dancing with joy over the man’s most dirty and painful laundry being aired for the world to see.

Bootle was a prick.

Harry had been stoic during the trial; pale after the revelation but stoic. It hadn’t been until they’d gotten clear of the chamber that he’d insisted on seeing Severus. Still, the meeting seemed to have given Harry some peace and that was all that was important to Sirius.

Especially since the afternoon trial would focus on Peter.

Sirius felt Harry lean into him a touch and he glanced over at his son.

“We can get through this.” Harry said quietly.

Sirius nodded. They would get through it. They were together; they could get through anything.

o-O-o

Peter tried hard not to look at anyone as he was led into the Wizengamot chamber. He kept his head down and stared at his feet. The urge to transform into his rat form was high but even if the charmed necklace he wore prevented it, he couldn’t do it. Losing his hand had interfered with his animagus ability. The loss was a physical ache worse than his arm.

He allowed himself to be shuffled into the accused chair. It was then he glanced up at the chamber and saw Harry.

Harry, who had defeated the Dark Lord.

Peter swallowed hard and forced himself to pay attention.

“…with conspiracy to commit the murders of James and Lily Potter; with conspiracy to commit infanticide…”

Peter ducked his head. He stopped listening. He didn’t want to hear the litany of the charges they were reciting. He knew them all. His solicitor Giles Dotts had gone through them with him the day before. It had been a depressing hour.

“How does the accused plead?”

Dotts rose from the defence table. “Guilty to all charges.”

A rush of noise erupted from the public tier.

The Chief Witch raised her wand and set off a small bang to bring order to the chamber. “Enough.” She looked at Peter with sharply assessing eyes. “You do understand, Mister Pettigrew, the consequences of pleading guilty?”

“I…I…I do.” Peter stuttered out.

The witch looked from him to his solicitor.

“I have been through the possible sentences he may incur, Chief Witch, and he understands that he may be sentenced for the remainder of his life to Azkaban or face execution.” Dotts said solemnly.

“Do you agree, Mister Pettigrew, that you fully understand the sentences that may be brought to bear once the chamber recognises your plea and ratifies that any further examination of the evidence is not required?” She pressed.

Peter nodded hurriedly. “I am guilty.”

But deep down, he also believed that he had done enough to mitigate a death sentence. With the Dementors removed from Azkaban, he could live with a cell, a bed and a hot meal every day. It was more than he’d had once he’d gone in search of his master.

“I…I have a statement…” Peter began.

The witch held up her hand in a silent request for him to wait. “Head Auror, are you satisfied with the plea?”

Scrimgeour glared at Peter in a way that made Peter want to shrink back from him.

“I believe the evidence would speak for itself in this case.” Scrimgeour said gruffly. “However, I also believe that his plea would save the Wizengamot valuable time and reduce the stress on potential witnesses. I am satisfied.”

“Director Bones?” The witch turned to the Head of the DMLE. “Are you satisfied?”

Bones rose from her chair to respond. “I would support a motion to recognise and move to sentencing, Lady Marchbanks.”

“Then that’s what we’ll do.” Marchbanks said crisply. “All in favour, raise your wands.”

Dullard, the clerk, rose soon after. “The vote is unanimous. The Wizengamot recognises the defendant has pled guilty and will move to sentencing.”

“Head Auror,” Marchbanks said turning back to Scrimgeour, “what is the recommendation of the prosecution?”

Scrimgeour got to his feet and tapped his finger against a piece of parchment. “The prosecution recommends execution for his crimes.”

Peter felt his heart start to race; his mouth went dry. That wasn’t supposed to happen! He didn’t deserve death! He’d helped them!

“This is a wizard who betrayed his friends in the worst possible way. He conspired for months against them, providing information to the enemy. He was entrusted with a secret which he promptly gave to the enemy. He conspired to ensure their deaths and the death of their child. In the aftermath, he conspired to frame another friend for their murder and, while others also bear responsibility for the injustice, it led to an innocent man being imprisoned for over a decade.” Scrimgeour recited.

“This is a man who hid himself as a rat for years until confronted by those he had betrayed. He ran again, this time to his master who he helped kill and torture an innocent child in the act of creating an homunculus. He helped Riddle and his cohorts kill Bertha Jorkins, Bartemius Crouch Senior, Janice Mickle, and countless others. He conspired to resurrect Riddle; to sabotage the TriWizard tournament, to kidnap Lord Potter and use him within a ritual; to kill Lord Potter and attack Hogwarts.”

Scrimgeour glared at Peter again.

“This is the truth of the man; a cowardly rat who would stab his friends in the back and cut their throats in their sleep if it served him, yet turn around and try to wheedle his way into their good graces if he thought it would serve his best interests. He has no moral compass, no redeeming traits. He should face the harshest sentence we can bring to bear.”

Peter watched as Scrimgeour took his seat. He glanced up towards Harry. Harry’s gaze seem directed above Peter’s head and Peter realised that Harry was looking at Sirius. Peter didn’t dare look towards Padfoot.

“Mister Pettigrew,” Marchbanks called for his attention, “you said you had a statement? Now would be the time to read it.”

Peter nodded hurriedly and gestured at his solicitor who passed him the parchment. He smoothed it out and cleared his throat.

“I…” Peter lowered the parchment, turning it over to hide the words. It was too trite; too rote. He cleared his throat a second time. “When I was eleven I sat on a stool and placed the Sorting Hat on my head to determine my house at Hogwarts. I thought I’d end up in Slytherin or Hufflepuff. My father’s family had been the ones to secure my place there and they had been Hufflepuffs. But my mother was an ambitious woman who married well and who raised me to believe survival in life was paramount.”

He didn’t look up at the faces. He kept his eyes on his hands, still cuffed and clasped in front of him, resting on the discarded parchment.

“It was a shock to be sorted into Gryffindor. I didn’t think I was particularly brave or courageous in nature.” Peter continued. “The Hat told me I would find my courage there.” He swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry. “And I did. I found my courage in the friendship with three other wonderful boys. Together we seemed invincible.” He paused, lifting his eyes for the first time but staring sightlessly into the past, oblivious to the people around him. “Then we left school and we went our separate ways. Well, Moony and I…we went into different things. I ended up at the Ministry.”

In hindsight, he wished he’d taken on McGonagall’s remonstrations to smarten up his academics; he might have made it into the Hit Wizard programme if he had.

“My first supervisor was Dennis Travers Senior. He was a Death Eater and he…he intimidated me into joining.” Peter babbled out. “I should have told someone when he approached me but I was scared and alone and…it was easier to go along with him, easier to say yes to the Dark Lord than say no and be killed or tortured! I was a coward but then I didn’t think of it as betraying them. As a spy I helped save my friends and kept them out of the line of fire.”

There was a murmur, a rush of whispering that pulled Peter from the past. He shook himself a touch.

“Then came the prophecy and the secret and…I was weak.” Peter admitted. “I should have refused to tell the Dark Lord where James and Lily were; I should have stood up for my friends as they would have stood for me. Or as Sirius said to me when we faced each other last year, I should have died for them as they would have died for me.” He paused, the silence of the room loud in his ears; condemning. “But I…I just wanted to survive; just survive. And so I led the Dark Lord to James and Lily, and when Harry hurt him, I framed Sirius to prevent him from arresting me. I hid away and when I was finally found out, I ran back to the Dark Lord and I helped resurrect him; helped commit crimes to help him. Because I wanted to survive. It’s pathetic and cowardly and yet, it’s all the excuse I have.”

He gave a sad short laugh. “The only time I found my courage again was standing beside Moony in the corridor at Hogwarts facing down the mercenaries and vampires as though they were a group of Slytherins and we were once again school-children. Because that’s where my courage always was; right beside them and I forgot that.”

Peter paused for a breath. “I think I helped save Moony. I think I helped there at the end. Maybe…one last act isn’t enough to make up for everything else. All I know is that I don’t want to die.”

His fingers tightened on the parchment and crumpled it.

“That’s…that’s all I have.”

There was complete silence.

“Does anyone wish to debate?” Marchbanks asked, her question dropping like a stone into the tension.

Ogden raised his wand. “This is difficult.” He said. “We all know that Pettigrew’s crimes are far-reaching and wide in their impact and their atrocity, yet…” he sighed heavily and looked over at Sirius. “I don’t believe I’m the only one, Lord Black, who feels that the only people in this room who should have the right to determine Pettigrew’s fate are you, your son and your steward. You and Lord Potter’s parents were his friends and he betrayed you. There is no sharper knife in your back; no deadlier poison to counter than that of an enemy who wears the face of a friend and who lies unknown at the heart of your family. I feel utterly unqualified to make any kind of judgement without knowing for certain which action would bring you the most sense of justice.” He held up a hand. “I know that it’s unfair of me to ask but I…I will ask anyway and hope you forgive me.”

Augusta Longbottom raised her wand. “I too regret placing this burden on Lord Black, but I feel the same.”

A third wand went up.

Marchbanks raised her hand and turned to Sirius. “Lord Black? It is not unusual in these cases for the Wizengamot to request the opinion of those most affected by the crimes of the perpetrator.”

Sirius’s gaze went first across the chamber and Peter ducked his head to hide from the intense look his old friend exchanged with Harry.

There was a rustle of fabric and Peter looked up again in time to see Sirius rise from his chair.

“I appreciate the sensitivity here and the opportunity to speak.” Sirius began. “As much as we don’t like to say the words,” he glanced back to Harry, “we are victims of Pettigrew’s crimes; his decisions and actions. He betrayed us and took away the people we loved the most. He ran from facing the consequences of his actions and I ended up in Azkaban, and when he ran a second time, he ran straight to his master and set in motion a chain of events where more and more people were killed or hurt. But this is about more than myself and Harry; more than myself and Remus Lupin. Were Pettigrew’s acts against us the worst crimes? I’m not sure the parents of the child he kidnapped for Riddle to live in would say that.” He shook his head. “Are any of us truly qualified to render judgement on such a heinous act?”

A wand was raised and Marchbanks recognised the wizard who stood as Sirius sat.

“Lord Black raises a good point.” Selwyn pinned Peter with a contemptuous look. “The actions of Peter Pettigrew are wider than himself and Lord Potter. He had a devastating impact on the wizarding world in the actions he took. We should not shirk our duty to sit in judgement upon him. But one could argue that we are all too affected by Pettigrew’s actions to be objective. There is practically no-one in the wizarding world who isn’t.” He gestured towards the Chief Witch, “With that said, I do not believe we are the right body to sit in judgement, and if I may I have a suggestion for a third option to those of execution and life imprisonment?”

Marchbanks lifted an eyebrow but nodded.

“Pettigrew broke oath.” Selwyn said bluntly. “I suggest we vote for the family magic of us sitting in this body to sit in judgement upon Pettigrew. Let Magic itself render Judgement.” He sat down.

There was a stirring of whispers and Peter’s heart sank. He squirmed in his chair, uneasy and uncertain of which way he wanted the vote to go.

Marchbanks stood up, capturing everyone’s attention. “This is a difficult. You have all spoken with sincerity and honesty. I personally feel Lord Selwyn’s suggestion has merit. I can call Judgement if this is what is required. I call for a vote; those who wish to enact Lord Selwyn’s motion raise your wands.”

The wands went up.

Peter’s heart beat wildly in his chest.

Dullard counted the wands and turned to the Chief Witch. “The motion is carried. Judgement will be rendered.”

A babble of noise broke out and Peter lowered his gaze, sick to his stomach with fear. The Lestranges had lost their lives; was that to be his fate?

Marchbanks hushed the crowd and turned to him. “Peter Pettigrew, you have pled guilty to your many crimes. We ask Magic to call Judgement upon you so you may face justice. Familius magicus animus!”

The Marchbanks’ avatar, a gold hare, shimmered into view; sparkling with gold. It stood on its hind legs sniffed the air and jumped – changing into a stream of gold magic which rushed upwards and out toward Harry.

Peter wondered at it for a long moment but he registered Sirius’s hurried stand even as Harry rose to greet the Hare as it reformed and bowed to the griffin sitting at Harry’s feet.

The gold griffin shifted and there was an audible gasp as the griffin disappeared and the form of a man took its place; James.

The gold spirit of James Potter reached out and cupped his son’s cheek. “We’re so proud of you, Harry.” He glanced at the silver Black snake and at the hare. “Guard my son.”

The avatars bowed to James.

The spirit turned to the Wizengamot, his eyes only seeking one wizard. “Padfoot.”

Peter reluctantly dragged his attention away from James to look back at Sirius. He was pale – his features etched with grief and loss.

“Prongs.” Sirius murmured, the rough word echoing across the chamber.

James looked over then to where Moony sat in the family tier; amber eyes bright. “Moony.” He gestured with his head. “Join me and Pads on the floor.” And a moment later he transformed into a stream of gold magic and rushed down to the centre.

Peter pressed back into his chair as the magic gathered in front of him – a whirlwind of gold. It settled back into James’s familiar form. “Prongs…”

“You don’t get to call me that, Wormtail.” James replied immediately as he turned impatiently to see where Padfoot and Moony were at.

The other two Marauders finally reached them.

James reached out to Moony first, a hand clasped onto his friend’s shoulder. “You always did get the difficult jobs and I’ve left you the most difficult of all; keeping Pads out of trouble.”

Moony laughed and reached up to pat James’s shoulder. “I miss you, Prongs.” He shook his head. “And you’d be just as bad if you were here. You always got each other in trouble after all.”

James smiled; the same wonderfully warm smile he’d used to give Peter. “Look after them, Moony.”

Moony nodded.

James turned to Sirius next and the pain on both their faces was heart-wrenching. Peter could barely look as James reached out and enfolded Sirius into a hug; as Sirius melted into the ethereal embrace.

“My brother.” James murmured lowly, but it wasn’t low enough and Peter saw its impact as it travelled to the rest of the chamber in the bright eyes and quiet sniffs.

It was a long moment before they stepped away from each other, exchanging a silent look of communication which Peter remembered all too well from school and which never boded well for the target of their ire. They looked over in unison to Remus and something was determined; an action, a decision – Peter’s fate.

The three Marauders turned to face him and the years, where they were, why they were there bled away until all that remained in Peter’s eyes were his three friends, accusatory looks levelled at him; no, levelled at Wormtail.

“Wormtail.” Prongs began. “As a wizard and a Marauder, you are hereby Judged as Oathbreaker and given to the Marauders for justice.” He lifted his hand and inside of it was a gold rat. “Your animagus ability. The act that bound us together as brothers.”

“I thought that was the pranks, Prongs.” Padfoot said laconically beside him.

“I thought it was the bottles of whiskey.” Moony countered.

Prongs shot them both a look.

Wormtail tried hard not to hyperventilate but he was barely breathing. He realised absently he couldn’t feel the suppression necklace he had been wearing.

“Magic casts you out,” Prongs intoned clearly, “but for this last act, one last prank from the Marauders.”

Moony smiled wolfishly. “You hid as a rat and now you will live as a rat.”

“Only as a rat.” Padfoot stressed with a smirk. “No magic to change back into a wizard; just a rat for all the rest of your days.”

“With the lifespan of a rat.” Prongs agreed.

“What is that again, Moony?” Padfoot tilted his head.

“Two to three years.” Moony responded cheerfully. “Unless a cat gets him or a snake.”

Wormtail shuddered. “Please, please, please?” He begged. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry for everything but I was scared!” Tears escaped and ran down his face; snot gathered and dripped from his nose as he sobbed.

His three friends looked at him stonily unmoved.

“You were once a Marauder; a friend we trusted before all others with blood and spirit and magic.” Prongs stated evenly. “You are a Marauder no more, Wormtail. All you are is a rat, Oathbreaker.”

Wormtail felt the magic starting to crawl over his skin. “NO! NO! Moony! Please?! Didn’t I help you?”

“You were once a Marauder and so for every time this past year you have helped us truly in the spirit of a Marauder with blood and spirit and magic, you’ll live another year.” Moony smiled, amber eyes glowing as he smiled wolfishly. “You are a Marauder no more, Wormtail. All you are is a rat, Oathbreaker.”

Wormtail felt the magic press in on him, tingles on the ends of his fingers and in his scalp. He turned to Padfoot, helpless and already knowing he would find no mercy there.

“You were once a Marauder but you drove a dagger into the spirit and magic of us and left us only blood.” Padfoot replied a harsh edge of anger colouring his voice. “You are a Marauder no more, Wormtail. All you are is a rat, Oathbreaker.”

“Judgement is served.” Prongs intoned gently. He smiled sadly at the others. “Mischief managed.”

The form fell into a million gold sparkles and reformed as the Potter griffin.

And the pain hit Wormtail and the world disappeared…

Peter came to; he was panting, surrounded by material. He scrabbled his way up into air, hurrying, hurrying…

An invisible force reached down and plucked him up, levitating him above his clothes and the chair where he’d been sat.

Scrimgeour’s florid face appeared in front of him. “Don’t worry, Rat. You’ll have a nice cage waiting for you in Azkaban.”

He shook in his rat form, terrified and vulnerable. He could feel the absence of his magic like a yawning chasm in the centre of his body. He couldn’t change! He was trapped, trapped, trapped…

It was over.

He was a Marauder no more.

Next Chapter: A Marauder’s Plan: Chapter 86