When I woke up, the first thing I noticed was the ache. Not the kind of soreness that came from training or sparring. No—this was internal, the quiet hum of something that had nearly broken and was still stitching itself back together. I sat up slowly. My body was heavier. Not in a bad way—but in a way that made me feel more real, more settled in myself. Magi's words echoed in my head.
> "Unless you were a demi-god or had a mutated body… you will die if you do that again."
Yeah. Lesson learned. I got dressed carefully and made my way downstairs, only to hear the cheerful clinking of dishes and the steady rhythm of conversation already underway. Harry and I took our seats at the table, and Dad—coffee in hand, wearing his usual morning cardigan and reading a floating paper—spoke casually.
"Alright. Both of you are turning eleven this year—Callum in June, Harry in July. That means it's time to decide where you're going for school." He took a slow sip. "You've got about six months left. Better to settle it now." Harry and I exchanged a glance. I smiled. "I want to attend Hogwarts."
Harry's eyes lit up. "Same. I… I want to experience what my parents did. I think it'll help me feel closer to them." Dad gave a nod. "Very well. I'll contact the Headmaster."
Then his eyes flicked up above the rim of his cup. "What about your houses?" I gave him a sly grin. "That's a secret." Harry grinned. "Gryffindor's fine with me, but I'm not picky. Especially if I end up in the same house as Callum."
We both laughed, and for a moment, the air was light. Mom sipped her tea, shaking her head with a gentle smile. "Ah… to be young again." I turned toward her and said with mock innocence, "Aren't you like thirty? And don't women in our family live absurdly long and maintain youthful appearanc—"
Smack.
Harry slapped the back of my head before I could finish. "Do you want to get into the ring?" he said. I snapped up. "Sorry, Mother! You're absolutely right. We are blessed to have such radiant youth in our bloodline." Mom sipped calmly. "Good recovery. Well done, Harry. You have a free day today." Before she could say more, Aunt Aster spoke from the hallway, her voice a velvet thread.
"Actually… you can't punish Callum today." She stepped into the room wearing sleek dueling robes, hair tied back with an arcane pin. "He asked me to assist him with drafting and submitting research papers."
Dad blinked. "Research? For what?" I leaned forward. "Because some things in magical law don't make sense. Love potions are legally sold to the public, but Veritaserum is banned from trials—especially ones that could prove guilt or innocence."
Everyone grew still. I added, "It smells like political manipulation. And I want to talk to someone who might understand that. Someone who could listen." "Like who?" my mother asked cautiously.
"Madam Amelia Bones." She lowered her teacup, eyes narrowing slightly. I looked at her, serious now. "I need you to trust me." My eyes shimmered faintly gold.
She studied me for a long moment. Then she gave a slow nod. "Alright. But don't embarrass your aunt. Or this family." I smiled, got up, and kissed her cheek. "Wouldn't dream of it."
Aster and I Apparated together, arriving at the Ministry's High-Ranking Entrance—a quiet, spell-guarded corridor far from the public fireplaces and security scans. We took a back route into the atrium, stepping into the flow of robed witches and wizards moving between lifts, courtrooms, and paper-stuffed offices.
It was just like I remembered from the books and movies. Ministry workers bustled about in a rhythmic hum of controlled chaos. Flying memos darted overhead like enchanted birds. The golden statues in the center shimmered under layered lighting charms.
The atrium was awe-inspiring I blended in, walking beside Aster, who was cloaked in a soft glamour to mute her presence—but not hide her confidence. As we approached Amelia Bones' office, I paused. Aster turned to me, snapped her fingers, and murmured a spell.
My outfit shimmered—changing into an elegant attire: a long-sleeve deep red tunic stitched with golden flame motifs up the sleeves and a brilliant gold insignia on the back. My pants were a darker red, sleek and tailored. Black formal shoes grounded the look, simple but refined.
"Why the fashion upgrade?" I asked. "You want her attention?" Aster asked, bending down to fix the hem of my sleeve. "Then look like you deserve to speak." She tapped my chest gently. "Let your voice carry the weight of your ancestors."
I smiled. "Thanks, Auntie."
"Anytime, little one." She knocked on the door. "Come in," a voice said from within—firm and clipped, but not cold. We looked at each other once more and I stepped forward Into the lion's den.
The door clicked shut behind us.
Madam Amelia Bones was already seated at her desk, reading through a thick parchment stamped with multiple glowing Ministry seals. The way her fingers moved along the edge of the page—quick but controlled—told me everything I needed to know: she didn't waste time.
Her office was modest, but beautifully arranged. Family portraits adorned the side table—frozen moments of warm smiles, picnics, and crisp uniforms. One photo showed her younger self alongside Moody—pre-eye, pre-scars—and another with Dumbledore, mid-conversation, both smiling faintly at something outside the frame.
A few floating decorations danced gently above the shelves: tiny magical shields, an enchanted scale that weighed truth and deceit, and the sigil of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, embedded in glass.
She looked up from her parchment as we entered, her sharp grey eyes flicking first to Aster, then to me. She removed her glasses and stood up.
"Aster," she said with genuine warmth, stepping around the desk. "You've finally returned to Britain. And here I hoped the meeting request meant you'd come to your senses and agreed to work under me at the Ministry."
Aster bowed slightly, hands behind her back, her voice cool and melodic. "I'm afraid I must decline once again, Amelia. As I told you last time, Japan suits me." The two women regarded each other for a moment, and I couldn't help but feel the weight of history between them.
Amelia smiled knowingly, glancing at me just in time to catch the subtle cringe on my face from how formal Aster's tone had been. She chuckled softly. "Please, Callum. Don't be so stiff. I've known your aunt too long to pretend she speaks like that for anyone but herself."
Aster gave a soft smile but said nothing.
"I would never dream of pulling her away from Kyoto," Bones continued, motioning toward the empty chairs in front of her desk. "She thrives there. And truthfully? I admire how she holds her noble house together from halfway around the world."
I bowed respectfully. "Thank you for your time, Madam Bones. It is an honor to speak with a leader of such distinction. On behalf of House Dawn, I hope our meeting is productive." Her brows raised slightly—pleased, and maybe a little impressed.
"Such manners," she murmured, gesturing for us to sit. "I see your aunt has been busy." Aster smirked behind her tea cup.
I took a seat and reached into the satchel my aunt had given me before we arrived. The folded leather was enchanted—light as air, but bottomless—and inside, tucked in perfect alignment, was a folder full of handbound parchment.
I laid it on the desk and pushed it gently toward her. "What's this?" she asked, flipping it open as her fingers hovered above the first page. Her eyes immediately scanned the first paragraph. "It's an argument," I said steadily, "and a body of research. A thesis, of sorts. Muggle-style."
Her fingers paused. She looked up. " A Thesis?" "A structured argument. Supported with evidence, logic, and verifiable names. The core subject is why love potions should be banned, and Veritaserum allowed in controlled legal circumstances."
Bones frowned slightly. "You're aware the use of Veritaserum in trials is highly restricted?" "Yes. But in many cases, the law prevents its use entirely—even when it could prevent injustice. The imbalance between truth and manipulation concerns me. Especially considering the wider corruption in our world."
Her fingers twitched she turned to the next page then the next. As she skimmed deeper, her eyes widened.
She froze. "…Sirius Black?"
Aster glanced sideways at me. Her composure held, but her surprise was visible now—only to those who knew her. "Yes," I said. "This section covers the events surrounding the Potters' betrayal. And why Peter Pettigrew is not only alive, but the true servant of Voldemort."
Her gaze locked on mine. "That's a bold claim, Callum. A dangerous one. If this is a game, I suggest you end it now. Speaking ill of the dead—especially a national martyr—is not taken lightly." Her words were sharp. Not cruel. But firm.
Testing me and Judging me. The room was heavy. Even Aster, for the first time, looked unsure. I took a slow breath, my voice steady. "I understand. The room felt like it was shrinking.
Not because of fear—but because every word I spoke began to press against the walls like a slow-building storm. "I understand the weight of my words," I said, sitting forward in my chair, voice steady. "I know what I'm implying, and what it might cost if I'm wrong." Aster's silence beside me was heavy. Supportive.
I looked directly at Madam Bones, whose sharp gaze could have pierced wards. "But I'm saying this not for attention, not for acclaim—but to save an innocent soul. To honor the memory of my godmother, Lily Potter, her husband James, and most of all… for my godbrother, Harry Potter."
Her lips tightened into a firm line. "I appreciate your intentions," she said. "I truly do. But intentions do not prove innocence." She tapped a manicured finger against the folder before her. "This thesis of yours—eloquent, well-organized as it is—still isn't proof."
I nodded once. "Check the evidence page, Madam Bones. The one labeled Pettigrew – Animagus Evasion Theory." She opened it and read. The silence that followed was not hollow—it was pressurized.
Her eyes narrowed. "Mr. Dawn… if what this claims is true, how do you—a boy not yet eleven—know any of this?" I turned toward Aster, who stared back at me in quiet alarm. This was the moment. I gave her a look—not begging, but asking for faith.
She studied me then gave a single nod. I returned my gaze to Madam Bones.
"I believe," I said carefully, "that if you summon a few trusted Aurors and have them conduct a Magical Animagus Reversal Charm on Percy Weasley's pet rat, currently residing at Hogwarts, that should be proof enough."
She stiffened. "No ordinary rat lives that long. And if it just so happens to be missing a finger—the very finger Peter Pettigrew supposedly left behind before 'dying'—I think that counts for something." Madam Bones leaned back processing slowly. I pressed forward. "If you doubt me further, summon Arthur Weasley. Ask him when his family acquired that rat. Ask how long it's been with them."
She looked toward the door. Her expression unreadable.
Then she called for her assistant. "Send for Arthur Weasley." Five minutes later, Arthur walked in, cheerful as ever, red hair ruffled and robe a bit wrinkled, holding a steaming mug of tea.
"Ah! Madam Bones. Aster! Well, this is a surprise. Didn't expect a visit this morning. He blinked when he noticed me. "Oh! And who's this young man?"
"Arthur," Madam Bones said carefully, "thank you for coming. I apologize for taking you from your department, but I need your help." He nodded. "Of course. Is something wrong?" She glanced toward the door. Then sealed the room with a privacy ward. "This conversation is off the record. It will remain between us, unless it leads to further investigation. Do you understand?"
Arthur's brow furrowed. "Yes, Madam Bones. I do." She nodded. "Good. Then tell me—your family rat. When did you acquire him?" Arthur looked puzzled. "Hmm… I believe around 1981. Percy was very young then. So, almost ten years ago, I'd say."
Bones's voice dropped. "And do you know the average lifespan of a rat?" Arthur scratched his chin. "Three to five years, I'd imagine… So Scabbers is quite the marvel, isn't he?"
She didn't respond to that. "And… is he missing a finger?" Arthur blinked. "Why yes—his front paw is short one toe. Always found that odd. Poor little bugger."
The silence in the room grew dense. Arthur looked between us. "Why do you ask?" Madam Bones exhaled. "Just a thread I needed to pull on. Thank you, Arthur. You're free to return to your work." He stood to leave, but I rose with him.
"Mr. Weasley?" He paused, smiling gently at me. "Yes, lad?" "I… I think you should stay. What comes next may involve your family." Aster blinked at me, then leaned back slightly in her chair. Bones frowned. "Callum. That's enough. The evidence you've offered is circumstantial at best."
Arthur's head tilted. "Evidence?" I stepped forward, not with pride—but certainty. "Mr. Weasley," I said calmly, "your rat—Scabbers—is likely Peter Pettigrew. The man who betrayed the Potters, not Sirius Black."
Arthur's face paled. "What?" "Think about it. A wizard fakes his death, hides for a decade, and remains in Animagus form to avoid detection. You said it yourself—he's lived twice the normal lifespan. He's missing the same finger found at the scene when Sirius was arrested."
The room fell still. "Please," I said. "I know I'm a child. But don't discount what I'm saying. Not just because of my age." Arthur stood frozen.
Madam Bones opened her mouth—but Aster beat her to it. "I back his claim." Her voice was cool. Composed. But carried a weight only few in the wizarding world could match. Bones looked at her. "Aster… he's your nephew. That could be bias."
"Nothing he said has been false," Aster replied. "Nothing. And if I or Albus had presented this same theory, you wouldn't be second-guessing." The words dropped like a blade onto the floor. The two adults stared at one another.
Long and hard. Then Bones slowly reached for a crystal orb on her desk. "I will summon a team of Aurors," she said.
The next hour moved like a storm wrapped in silence.
Madam Bones moved quickly, summoning five senior Aurors—none below ten years of service—and sending an emergency letter via enchanted hawk to Headmaster Dumbledore. The message was clear: Prepare the rat. We're coming.
Before she left, she turned back to me. "You'll remain here. This is my job and if we imprisoned the wrong man I will correct it ."
Aster raised an eyebrow. "Am I needed?" Bones hesitated, then shook her head.
"No. Snape, McGonagall, and Dumbledore and flitwick will be there. Adding you would be overkill. And I'm going myself." She paused, then added dryly, "Not because of your nephew—but because if this is true, I want to be the one to bring it back."
And with that, she vanished into the air with the rest of her team. The hour and a half that followed in Madam Bones' office was heavy with waiting, but not silence.
Aster and I sat side-by-side. I finally broke the quiet.
"…Thank you."
She didn't look at me, still reading a manga I didn't recognize the swirling Ministry clock on the far wall. "Don't thank me yet," she said softly. "If you're right, you've just forced the Wizarding world to stare at a truth they buried a decade ago."
She turned to me now, voice even. "You'll have attention. Not the good kind. And a lot of questions. No one in power likes being told a child solved a mystery their entire system failed to uncover." I smiled faintly. "Sounds like the perfect time to announce me as the heir of House Tesfaye."
Aster gave me a sideways look—and then, to my surprise, she smiled. "Smart mouth." She paused, then leaned back.
"Now, before things spiral again… we never finished our conversation." I flicked my hand, and a soft black shimmer danced over my palm. "The Black Flame," she said.
I watched it swirl.
"It's not… evil," I said. "It's not even dark. It's like… a shadow. It consumes everything—but not to destroy it. It makes everything part of it. It's mine now. I can feel it pulling pieces of the world into like pieces of a puzzle."
Aster tilted her head, curious. "Spoken like someone whose close to seeing the truth of this world." I was about to ask what she meant when the door opened fast—and Madam Bones stepped inside. Her face said everything. "Come with me. Now."
What awaited us wasn't just a trial—it was a reckoning. We were ushered into a special high-security courtroom: black stone, glowing chains, enchanted torches that crackled in blue fire. The air was cold, yet buzzing with magic.
Aurors filled the balconies, seated beside Ministry officials, department heads… even Cornelius Fudge, the Minister himself, sat pale-faced and stiff at the high desk beside Barty Crouch Sr.
In the center of the chamber was Peter Pettigrew.
Bound to a reinforced chair, both arms and legs strapped in place, shaking, eyes darting like a cornered animal. His hair was patchy, face wild. He whimpered pitifully, already beginning his show of false remorse.
"I didn't mean to cause harm!" he sniffled. "I—I was protecting the Weasleys—"Then the sound of a cane tapping echoed through the chamber. Alastor Moody limped into the courtroom, magical eye spinning wildly, scarred face set like a warhammer.
"Liar," he growled, wand in hand. "I can smell it on you." Peter flinched. Madam Bones raised a brow. "Auror Moody." "I've hunted traitors long enough to know when I'm looking at one," he snapped, stepping closer to the bound rat-man. "Your stink's been rotting for years."
The gavel struck once. "Order," Fudge called, voice weak behind his forced pride. "Let's… begin." Moody stepped forward, voice rough. "Were you or were you not the Secret Keeper for the Potters under the Fidelius Charm?"
Peter writhed, eyes wide. "No! It was Sirius Black! I swear!" Moody stepped closer. "Then why did you go into hiding? Why not tell the Ministry?" Peter whimpered. "Th-the Dark Lord has eyes everywhere! I was trying to stay alive! For everyone's sake!"
A soft, familiar voice broke in. Albus Dumbledore stepped forward from the shadows, robe sweeping behind him. "This trial requires truth above all else," he said calmly. "I suggest Veritaserum be administered. Given the gravity of the claim."
Madam Bones turned to Fudge and Crouch. "I second the motion." A pause. Then, one by one, more officials nodded. Fudge sighed. "Fine. Motion passed." A pale-robed Ministry officer stepped forward, uncorking a glowing vial.
Peter shrieked.
"No! You can't—!" The potion was forced into his mouth, and within moments he was gasping, twitching—resisting every instinct to speak. Moody began the questioning again. "Were you the Potters' secret keeper?"
"Yes," Pettigrew choked. Shocked gasps filled the courtroom. "Did you tell the Dark Lord where to find them?"
"Yes." "Did you cause the explosion that killed thirty Muggles and blame Sirius Black?" A pause—then, "Yes." The room broke into whispers, gasps, and outrage. Then Moody delivered the final question, low and dangerous. "Why, Pettigrew?"
"…Power," he said. "The Dark Lord offered me power. And I… I wanted to matter." Fudge banged his gavel repeatedly.
"ORDER!"
Madam Bones stepped forward immediately. "I submit Peter Pettigrew be sent to Azkaban immediately, interrogated for further secrets. But more importantly—Sirius Black must be released and exonerated."
Fudge hesitated.
Then said through clenched teeth, "Yes. Madam Bones, I place you in charge of his release… personally." "Minister," said Dumbledore calmly. "I will accompany you. As will Crouch."
Fudge stood, voice louder now. "Courtroom is dismissed! Aurors—lock up this traitor!" As they dragged Peter away, I stood there, watching. Aster placed a gentle hand on my shoulder. Madam Bones turned to me, meeting my gaze.
"Good work, Callum. You just changed the future." I looked up at her. "Can I come with you… to Azkaban?"
She hesitated.
"Azkaban is no place for a child."
But Aster interrupted.
"He's not just any child. He's my heir. Taught by me. And his mother." Bones sighed, eyes flicking between us.
"Fine. But stay beside us at all times."
I nodded sharply. "Yes, ma'am."A moment later, we gripped her arm and apparated to the gates of Azkaban.