Peter Pettigrew kept pleading his case. "Sirius might be locked up, but there are other Death Eaters out there — they've been hunting me this whole time."
"Then why didn't you come to us for help?"
"I— I didn't trust anyone. I was too scared. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I was just so scared."
"Believe me, believe me, Professor, Harry... Right! If — if I'd really gone over to You-Know-Who, why would I have never once hurt Harry?"
By the end, he'd curled himself into a trembling ball.
Credit where it's due — between his pitiful state, everyone's fond memories of him, and the Order of Merlin he'd once received, it was almost enough to stir some sympathy. Almost — except from Snape.
Vincent said, flatly, "Professor Snape, you're not exactly short on Veritaserum, are you?"
"Already prepared."
Snape pulled a small glass vial from his sleeve. Peter Pettigrew immediately panicked, scrambling backward in a clumsy tangle of limbs. "No — this isn't legal, no! You can't do this to me!"
Everyone present was sharp enough to read that reaction for exactly what it was.
Snape wasn't about to show him any courtesy. He hit him with a strength-draining hex, planted a foot on his chest, gripped his throat, and forced the entire vial of Veritaserum down his throat.
From there, things proceeded quickly.
Once dosed with Veritaserum, Peter Pettigrew confessed to every "criminal act" with startling readiness.
Flitwick's mustache trembled with fury. McGonagall's expression had gone dark. Even Dumbledore's face had turned deeply grave. Snape made no effort at all to hide the murder in his eyes — if not for the others present, he'd have already thrown a Cruciatus Curse or two.
"I'm sorry, Harry."
Peter Pettigrew looked at Harry, tears streaming down his face. "I'm sorry, I — I was just so scared, I didn't have a choice, the Dark Lord was terrifying. I'm sorry, I'm sorry."
Harry's fists clenched at his sides. Unlike the version of himself from the third book, who'd been through so much more by this point in the original story, this Harry let out a furious shout and lunged forward.
Dumbledore raised a hand, but in the end, made no move to stop him.
Vincent gave Ron a light push from behind. "Don't you want to get some of this out of your system too?"
Ron surged forward without hesitation. "Harry, I've got your back!"
A few minutes later, the two boys sat on the floor, catching their breath, while Peter Pettigrew lay curled up, his face a mess of bruises and blood. He offered no resistance at all, as if he'd given up entirely.
If anyone else had caught him, he'd have fought back — but this was Dumbledore, a man even Voldemort himself treated with wariness.
Vincent cleared his throat and stepped forward. "All right, everything's clear now. I'll take him to the Ministry." He glanced at Snape, who looked like he wanted to say something, and smiled. "Trust me, Professor Snape — for someone like him, Azkaban is a far worse fate than a quick death."
Snape said nothing further.
"Charles."
Dumbledore's voice was low. "I'll come with you."
"That would be ideal."
Vincent stepped over and patted Harry's head. "All right, Harry — time to take him where he belongs."
He used a Transfiguration spell to turn Peter Pettigrew's clothes into a length of chain, then cast a Levitation Charm on it, floating him along like a balloon, and walked over to stand beside Dumbledore.
Dumbledore nodded toward the others. "Fawkes."
Just then, the little black cat darted over, meowing at Vincent insistently, clearly demanding to come along too.
Vincent knew Bernadette had grown fairly close to this creature over the past while, and it seemed less than pleased that she'd suddenly left Hogwarts without bringing it along.
As for Vincent himself, he barely knew the cat at all — but since it was Bernadette's own pet, he gave it a gentle pat on the head. "Where I'm going isn't a good place to bring you. Stay put here — I'll be back soon."
With a burst of flame, the group vanished.
The little black cat's fur bristled with indignation, meowing loudly, over and over.
Snape swept his robes around and turned to leave. Harry hurried after him. "Professor Snape."
"Yes?"
"Could you... tell me about my mother?"
Harry had originally meant to ask about both his parents, but remembering the tension between Snape and his father, he switched to just his mother instead.
"..."
Snape fixed him with a dark, penetrating look for a long moment. "Follow me."
...
Underground level of the Ministry of Magic, Minister Fudge sat in a plush armchair, enjoying a cup of coffee.
A knock sounded at the door.
"Come in."
An elderly woman in a fluffy pink cardigan stepped inside, her voice pitched high and clipped. "Minister, sir, Dumbledore is here."
Fudge's hand jerked, nearly spilling his coffee. "He— what's he here for? Is he looking for me?"
Fudge suffered from a textbook persecution complex, forever convinced Dumbledore was scheming to steal his position, and stayed perpetually on guard around him.
"He's not here for you. He went straight to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement after arriving."
"Oh."
Fudge let out a breath of relief, asking idly, "What's he up to, then?"
"He... brought Peter Pettigrew with him."
"Who?"
"The one who was killed by the Death Eater Sirius Black, ten years ago. The one who received the Order of Merlin."
Fudge blinked, baffled. "Wait, what do you mean?"
The old woman hesitated. "Dumbledore says Peter Pettigrew is actually the traitor who betrayed Harry Potter's parents. He's here to..."
Before she could finish, Fudge shot up out of his chair and bolted for the door. "You fool, next time lead with that!"
By the time Fudge made it down to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Dumbledore and Vincent had already finished laying out the whole situation to Department Head Amelia Bones.
"I understand. Leave this to me."
Amelia said, serious. "Though, given that the Peter Pettigrew case was formally closed by the previous Minister, overturning it now, so abruptly, does concern me a little..."
Vincent said, "Ms. Bones, you just said it yourself — it was the previous Minister's ruling."
"But Minister Fudge—"
"Leave that part to us. All you need to do is push this forward as quickly as possible. Sirius Black is still suffering in Azkaban, after all."
"Understood."
Thud, thud, thud.
Just then, a rapid, heavy set of footsteps approached — Fudge, his bulky frame lumbering along, wiping sweat from his brow as he hurried over, only to abruptly slow his pace right at the last moment, removing his hat. "Good morning, Headmaster Dumbledore, Ms. Bones, and... Charles? What are you doing here?"
Fudge harbored genuine contempt for this man — someone who'd cozied up to Lucius Malfoy in a bid to worm his way into the Ministry. So what if you've got Lucius backing you? I'm the Minister of Magic. Wherever I want you to go, you'll go, and like it.
"Good morning, Minister Fudge."
Vincent greeted him with a smile. "I've actually come today specifically to bring you a gift."
"A gift?"
Fudge blinked, startled, glancing warily at Dumbledore beside him. Trying to bribe me right in front of Dumbledore? You've got some nerve.
He drew himself up, righteous. "What are you talking about? I'm the Minister of Magic — I don't need any gifts from you! And besides, who authorized you to leave Azkaban? Don't tell me you're giving up your post as Hit Wizard Captain too?!"
"I know you're eager, but just hold on a moment."
Vincent didn't so much as flinch at his reaction. "Give me one minute. Let's talk it through."
To be continued…
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