It was break time. Kingsley Shacklebolt was with his partner, Tonks, in the Hogwarts kitchens. They had made a stop after, as usual, finding nothing in their patrols through the castle corridors. Kingsley had gradually grown accustomed to the friendly house-elves bustling about. He looked at Tonks, who calmly began her snack. Kingsley knew that Tonks rarely followed Headmaster Dumbledore's rules to the letter, often bending them when her Auror duties provided an opportunity.
"Are you going to tell me where you get to on your self-imposed 'overtime' patrols?" Kingsley asked calmly. He knew that, in time, Tonks would become one of the best Aurors the Department had seen in years.
"Nowhere. I just make sure everything is okay."
"Have you approached Harry Potter?" Kingsley asked directly. "You know the Headmaster doesn't want Harry to worry, to feel the sword of Damocles hanging over his head." Kingsley disapproved of keeping Harry uninformed of the danger he was in, but as Kingsley had said earlier in the year, there was little they could do about it. At least, a good part of the truth had recently exploded in the press. Whether the press reports were entirely accurate or not, Kingsley wasn't sure if it was positive or negative for Harry.
"Harry Potter. No, I haven't approached him."
Kingsley frowned, catching a faint smile on Tonks's face, as if she were harbouring a secret. Kingsley was certain that, beyond the brief encounter he'd witnessed between them on the Quidditch pitch months ago, Tonks was closer to Harry than she let on. It was curious to Kingsley that Harry seemed to vanish from his classmates' sight for almost the same periods of time as Tonks. This also happened with the other student Kingsley had initially mistaken for a student. On the Quidditch pitch, Kingsley had observed a certain chemistry between Tonks and young Harry Potter; a palpable complicity.
"He's a boy."
"I haven't done anything."
"I'm not saying you did, just that many might point out unpleasant things to you."
"Since you've brought up the subject. When do you plan to ask Amelia Bones out on a date?"
"Not that..."
"Come on, Kingsley." Tonks pressed. "Delivering all the reports for all your cases in hand, that's only done with serious cases. Admit once and for all that you fancy her."
"She's older than I am, Tonks." Kingsley couldn't help but grunt, a flush rising to his cheeks at his partner's bluntness.
"Older women are more interesting, did you know that?" a young voice interrupted their conversation.
Kingsley turned, noticing who was there. It was Harry Potter, and not just any student. Kingsley was surprised; he didn't expect his conversation to be overheard, or that a thirteen-year-old student would speak so firmly and decisively about this type of relationship. Not to mention Kingsley hadn't expected to find any students in the kitchens at all; it was widely assumed students didn't even know the location. Had Tonks told him? Before Kingsley could speak or reproach them, or even show how embarrassed he was about the situation, Harry spoke to them.
"I was looking for you. You're never in the Great Hall, and given your duties guarding the castle, I doubted I'd find you there."
"Why were you looking for us?" Kingsley asked in a firm voice, brushing aside anything he might ask or reproach Tonks. "And how do you know where the kitchens were?"
"Fred and George Weasley told me," Harry explained. "As for the reason that brings me here, I've found something very strange. I thought that since you're the authority, I should show you. Maybe I'm wrong, but I'd rather be sure. What if The Quibbler was right about some of its insinuations?"
"What makes you think that could be the case?" Tonks asked gravely. "Speak with confidence, Harry. I already told you on the Quidditch pitch that we were there for whatever you needed."
"I found a photograph in my mother's old diary," Harry said, taking out a photograph where three very different animals were seen, posing as if for a picture. It was a magical photograph, so there was no room for any trickery. "Harry thought the photograph was strange since wild animals don't usually stay still, much less pose for a picture. Even at the zoo, they get agitated when you try to photograph them!"
"Animagi," Kingsley ventured, his eyes widening slightly. Young Harry Potter was right; the animals certainly didn't behave like that – well, perhaps the dog was an exception. Kingsley looked at Harry with renewed interest. "These animal forms aren't registered. They're illegal Animagi."
"What caught Harry's attention was what it said on the front, and the fact that the rat looks a lot like the pet of his housemate, Ron Weasley."
Kingsley held the photograph carefully before turning it over and reading the front, only to be completely surprised moments later. He then passed the photograph to Tonks.
"Do you have anything to compare with?" Kingsley asked somewhat tensely, looking at Harry. Since the article had come out, Kingsley had been making his own inquiries. The imprisonment without trial had indeed been true, but the curse that supposedly caused a perfectly severed finger of Pettigrew to be found, as the reports claimed... Kingsley had found no evidence that such a curse existed. At that moment, Kingsley considered that if the young student had a suspicion, it wouldn't hurt to check it. Surely it would lead to nothing, but that would put Harry's mind at ease; and if Harry was right... It was time to do things properly.
"I have some photographs with Ron in which Scabbers appears," Harry explained, "both recent ones and from past years, and also the newspaper cutting from when they went to Egypt on holiday. In the most recent ones, Scabbers looks somewhat ill. She's been like this since mid-summer; according to Ron, ever since they returned from Egypt."
"Give us everything you have, Harry. We'll look into it," Kingsley said firmly.
"We'll give it back to you," Tonks added.
"Thank you for the information, Mr. Potter."
"It's Harry, I'd rather you call me that."
"Okay, Harry then. We are Kingsley and Tonks."
"I'd better go back to the common room. My friends must be worried."
Kingsley watched Harry go, not speaking until he was sure the boy had left. From that brief conversation, Harry seemed to Kingsley a serious, proper, and mature boy; anyone else his age might have tried to investigate the matter on their own without telling an adult, which could have been catastrophic. Kingsley found himself liking the boy. He calmly finished his snack before proceeding to check the material. They spent hours comparing the photographs provided by Harry with the one he had shown them in the first place.
"What do you think?" Kingsley asked Tonks after a long time studying those pieces of evidence.
"That we've got nothing to lose by checking it with the pet. We only need a simple charm."
"We'll have to find a time and a way to get closer," Kingsley assured his partner. "Besides. Now we may know more about the Azkaban breakout." No dark magic had been found around the cell, so that photograph gave Kingsley an idea of what might have happened. "It is possible the Animagus had transformed. Dementors don't distinguish the emotions of animals, and they are known to be blind."
"Tonks mused, "I just wonder, why didn't they run away sooner? If they had the possibility, I don't understand why they'd wait years."
"I wonder too, Tonks."
Kingsley plunged back into his thoughts. His analytical mind had made him a Ravenclaw, distinct from his more academically oriented housemates. This trait had served him well in adulthood, making him a highly respected Auror rarely wrong in his judgment. He decided to put that particular question aside for later, shifting his focus to a more trivial, yet equally important, matter.
"Tonks, that boy fancies you," Kingsley said, without mincing his words, and with far more seriousness and forcefulness than he'd used before. Kingsley had noticed it in Harry, both in his behaviour towards Tonks on the Quidditch pitch and now that he'd had Harry closer during their conversation. "I think he suits you. He's more mature than you are, Tonks."
"Being childish is sometimes my escape valve," Tonks admitted with a shrug.
"I know. Just keep something in mind, Tonks. The age of consent is fifteen."
"Kingsley..."
"I think Harry could do you good. Besides, Kingsley suspected that Harry had trusted them, and that was thanks to Tonks."
---
In the Gryffindor common room, Ron dropped his quill and closed his enchantment books. He had finished his study session and managed to increase his study time from thirty minutes to forty-five. It had been hard at first, but Harry had been right: studying was something that Ron was gradually getting the hang of.
What Ron had always had problems with was studying; it was difficult for him to concentrate, and that had often made him feel useless. Not to mention that his mother had always reproached him for his lack of enthusiasm for studying, telling him that being lazy wouldn't get him anywhere. Ron didn't want to be lazy, but he couldn't help but find it difficult to study because he was always easily distracted by anything.
It had been Hermione who had found an explanation for what was happening to him. She had called it Attention Deficit Disorder, and although Ron didn't fully understand it when Hermione explained what it was, he had been relieved that he wasn't to blame for being a little useless at his studies.
Ron put his things in his school bag and looked up. He could see Fred and George handing out some scrolls around the common room; Ron imagined it was something related to the joke shop they wanted to open. Ron saw it as a great thing, and he thought it was good that his brothers were pursuing their dreams, following the same advice they had given him: fighting for what you want and not to satisfy others.
He noticed that Scabbers was moving a little uneasily in the inside pocket of his robe. Lately, Scabbers had been very nervous and looking worse and worse. Her fur had fallen out a lot, much more than before, and on more than one occasion, Ron had caught her biting herself; Ron was sure that Scabbers did it out of pure nerves. Ron took Scabbers out and put her on the table. He uncovered a jar of sugar flies and gave her a few; he wanted to see if she would cheer up, but he didn't want her to get too full. It was at that moment that Hermione's cat, Crookshanks, jumped on the table and lunged at Scabbers, who again scurried away.
"Not again!" Ron protested. He swatted Crookshanks before going after Scabbers. "Hermione, control that beast!"
Ron chased Scabbers all over the common room, surprised that she even ran away from him, who treated her so well. Scabbers must have been too frightened to act like this, or perhaps confused by her delicate health.
"Scabbers is back!" Ron shouted after tripping and falling to the ground as his pet darted towards the portrait hole that would be in place at that moment. "Don't go!" The rest of the common room was laughing.
" Immobulus, Wingardium Leviosa."
Scabbers was paralysed and levitated right after into the hands of the one who had just entered the common room: Neville Longbottom. Ron sighed calmly when he saw that he wasn't going to lose his pet and sat up, looking gratefully at Neville, whom he was beginning to consider a good friend.
"I had to learn those spells properly, you know, Trevor escapes me many times. A Finite Incantatem will suffice."
"Yes, thank you, Neville." Ron picked up Scabbers from his housemate's hands. "If it weren't for that damn cat..."
"Ron, Crookshanks does what all cats do. But I can think of something. Let's wait for Harry, I'm sure that between the three of us we can prevent the cat from entering our dormitory; there, Scabbers must be safe. Some enchantment or something."
"But does that exist?"
"Maybe."
Ron shrugged and turned. Hermione had been carrying Crookshanks behind him. That bothered Ron a little, so when Hermione passed by, Ron didn't say anything. He just took his things and went up to the dormitory, leaving Hermione with the word in her mouth. In those moments, Ron knew he would say a few words that he would surely regret later, so he preferred to avoid that.
"Excuse me," Neville said to Hermione. "You know Ron likes Scabbers very much, even if he doesn't say so. He is a little sensitive. It will pass."
Ron acknowledged that he might be a little sensitive. It wasn't Hermione who bothered him; she was his friend and helped him. It was that strange cat and his obsession with Scabbers that had Ron upset.
---
Sirius Black was tired of being locked up. If he held on there, it was because he had promised Harry not to move. Especially after how upset Harry had been with the newspaper article. Sirius knew his godson was right, but he was bored of being confined and had wanted to surprise Harry; however, Harry had become annoyed and began to enumerate the risks and consequences of Sirius letting himself be seen before his time, before the truth was revealed. At times like these, Sirius felt Harry reminded him more of Lily than James.
Sirius heard a noise coming from the tunnel, so he looked up, hoping it was Harry or his niece; or even Neville Longbottom. Instead, he saw a blonde girl he didn't know. Sirius tensed; he had been discovered.
"Don't worry, Sirius Black. I'm friends with Harry. I've brought you food."
Sirius watched as the girl placed some bags on the repaired dining room table and began to take out their contents: chicken drumsticks, chips, a ham, battered and fried vegetables, and two jugs of pumpkin juice. He also saw how the girl set the table for dinner for two people. Sirius observed the girl. Her features seemed to indicate that she had just entered adolescence, so they were predominantly childish. She must have been about Harry's age. That made Sirius feel relieved; he wouldn't know what he'd think if Harry had befriended another older girl.
"What's your name?" Sirius asked.
"Luna Lovegood."
"Lovegood?" Sirius frowned. "Are you related to the editor of The Quibbler?"
"He's my father."
"Oh, okay. I have to thank you for the article. I liked it."
"There's no need to be thankful. Everyone deserves to know the truth and stop being sheep. Unconditionally believing what a single person says can be dangerous."
"It seems so," Sirius smiled.
Even before reading the article, Sirius had been upset with Dumbledore when he realised that Dumbledore could have given him a fair trial. It was only necessary for one of the three judges of the Wizengamot to do so for the rest to silence their objections and grant it. Sirius could understand that, to some extent, the nation was in chaos during those days after the end of the war, but he did not see that it was a sufficient reason to do such a thing. He wondered how many more had suffered a fate similar to his own, or even worse. Sirius imagined that if he had been a half-blood or the son of a Muggle, or even a pure-blood with a minor surname, he would have been kissed on the spot twelve years ago. Just what they were now planning for him, according to The Daily Prophet. All those thoughts made Sirius trust only his godson and his friends. He sat at the table, looking expectantly at the girl, a Ravenclaw, judging by her robes.
"I have something important to tell you about it. We may be able to put you in touch with a solicitor in the next few hours."
"Am I going to be free?" Sirius asked, his voice full of a hope he hadn't felt in years.
"Maybe, but Harry would be upset if we claimed victory before it became a reality," Luna explained. "My father has consulted your case with one of his trusted solicitors and believes there are possibilities. Everything is being managed to ask for a trial on the basis of the laws that govern the courts: after the time of crisis, a trial must be guaranteed to all those who had not been tried."
"I don't know what that is." Sirius admitted, feeling a flicker of confusion.
"Apparently, it is an exemption from the trick that allows someone to be locked up without trial. Something to guarantee all rights."
"They will not admit it for processing, or they will surely do so and they will make sure that I cannot attend," Sirius countered, his cynicism born of years of injustice.
"They will admit it if the application is presented to Madam Bones; in fact, it is being presented right now," Luna stated calmly. "On the other hand, if you are granted a trial and something, anything, prevents you from going to it, what is now a rumour will become the certainty of eliminating an entire family. Simply put, they'll regret it if something happens to you."
Sirius was surprised. Each of Harry's friends surprised him in different ways. They were like the Marauders, but seemed much better behaved.
"I always liked how the house-elves cooked," Sirius commented, changing the subject slightly as he took a chicken drumstick.
"The food at Hogwarts is good," Luna agreed. "My father tries in each one, but doesn't quite succeed. The one who makes good homemade food is Mrs. Weasley. Her daughter and I are in the same year."
"Do you go to eat with them a lot?" Sirius asked, genuinely curious.
"Before, yes, every week. I stopped going a month before the start of my first year. Something about them having a special guest at home. Then I found out it was Harry. I would have liked to have met him before, he is very nice. Do you know that he and Neville defended me from four older students?"
"No, I didn't. Tell me!"
---
While Rowena entertained Sirius, Helga and her partner, Kingsley, proceeded to "check" the rat. A few days prior, Helga and Kingsley had agreed that provoking an escape attempt from the rat, and then hitting it with a transformation reversal charm, would be too conspicuous—far too unusual for such an instinct to manifest so suddenly. It was better to wait for Helga's teammate, Kingsley, who, after having verified Salazar's contribution, took the step of examining the "pet".
Helga remained a step behind Kingsley, her wand ready but not drawn for the moment; it wasn't necessary to alarm the students who remained that afternoon on the grounds, nor to generate a dangerous situation in itself. Fortunately, there weren't many students on the grounds at the time. Helga watched as Kingsley approached the Weasley boy and initiated a conversation with him. The boy seemed reluctant to leave his rat in the Auror's hands. From where Helga stood, she couldn't know what Kingsley had told him to convince him, but the boy eventually allowed Kingsley to check the rat. Kingsley cast the spell, and the rat immediately became paralysed before tumbling to the ground and beginning to transform into a short, chubby man who retained some feline features—undoubtedly a consequence of having been transformed into a rat for twelve years.
"Peter Pettigrew," Helga stated, pointing her wand at him. She saw Kingsley do the same. "We wonder how someone has managed to feign death for twelve years."
"I was scared, Sirius Black's friends would come for me," Pettigrew said, somewhat tremblingly.
"That's something we'll have to establish at the Ministry," Helga said firmly.
Pettigrew pounced on the bewildered Ronald Weasley before Helga or Kingsley could react, snatching the boy's wand. The blow incapacitated the boy, though otherwise, he didn't appear to be injured. A duel quickly broke out between the Aurors and Pettigrew. While Kingsley fended off Pettigrew's initial attack, Helga seized the opportunity to send an urgent message to the Ministry, specifically to Amelia Bones. She summarised the situation: "Peter Pettigrew found alive and currently attacking them after injuring a student." That message was more than enough to set the Ministry's wheels in motion and ensure reinforcements would arrive. Not because the two Aurors couldn't handle the wizard themselves, but because Helga knew this information needed to reach someone fair, who wouldn't simply sweep it under the carpet. After sending the message, Helga immediately joined Kingsley in the fray. The exchange of spells intensified, proving that Pettigrew was not the useless wizard everyone had thought he was; he had a good command of dangerous magic. It was clear he lacked courage and was fighting solely for an opportunity to flee. Pettigrew's desperate reaction made it clear to both Aurors that he had something significant to hide.
Helga sensed Pettigrew's attack on the unconscious student—a piercing curse—too late. There was no time for Helga to raise a shield, nor for Kingsley to intervene. There was only one solution to protect the student: to get in the way of the spell. Helga did so, moving in those mere tenths of a second, receiving the attack to her right flank. She pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes against the pain and stinging of the cut; immediately, she felt a hot liquid flowing. Helga cursed internally, knowing she couldn't stop to assess the damage until Pettigrew had been subdued.
Helga caught sight of Professor McGonagall running up from the castle entrance. Professor McGonagall quickly attended to her student, turning him over, and then precariously healed Helga's wound. Helga gave the Professor a look of gratitude; the makeshift healing would help her remain in the confrontation, which had lasted longer than expected. Eventually, the Aurors' experience and training, aided by Minerva McGonagall's protection of the student, soon brought Pettigrew down and secured his capture. Kingsley was in charge of placing the shackles on Pettigrew just as Amelia Bones arrived, accompanied by the Minister for Magic and a couple of other Aurors. All of them were followed by a surprised Albus Dumbledore who, at the same time, seemed a little displeased, or at least that's how he appeared to Helga in that moment.
"This, this is..." The Minister was speechless.
"It is clear this must be thoroughly investigated; therefore, no hasty decisions. Pettigrew should be questioned immediately," said Amelia Bones. "Good job, Kingsley, Tonks. You acted with good judgment. Now, let's proceed inside the castle for the preliminary interrogation."
"I'll take Mr. Weasley to the infirmary," said Professor McGonagall, looking rather dismayed.
"Miss Tonks, it looks like you have a visit to the infirmary, too," said the Headmaster. "And your companion may need some rest."
"I'm fine," Helga replied.
"We'll rest when we're done," Kingsley said in his usual calm, leisurely voice.
They made their way towards Dumbledore's office. Helga found Dumbledore somewhat displeased, though there was no way of knowing if it was because the conspiracy they suspected was about to be revealed, or if he was simply annoyed by the Ministry's intervention rather than having been forewarned of the problem. Since their arrival, Helga had realised that Dumbledore preferred everything that happened at Hogwarts to go through him; however, the Aurors had orders to carry out. Although it wasn't Sirius Black, it was certainly shocking for a man presumed dead to reappear years later.
"Summarise what happened," Dumbledore demanded, stepping into the role of the Wizengamot's supreme judge.
"A few weeks ago, a student approached us, quite worried. He found us in the school kitchens and showed us a photograph of some animals that seemed to be posing," Kingsley began, as it fell to him as the highest-ranking Auror stationed at Hogwarts. As he spoke, he pulled out the photograph, showing everyone the evidence of three unregistered Animagi. "That same student told us that the rat in the photo looked exactly like the pet of one of his roommates. We asked him for further photographs of it." Kingsley now produced the rest of the photos and a clipping from the Daily Prophet. "The evidence was so compelling that we had no choice but to investigate." Kingsley glanced at Helga, giving her a nod.
"This afternoon, we approached young Weasley and asked him to show us his pet. We then used an enchantment that, if it were an Animagus, would force it to transform. As soon as he transformed, he immediately said something about having been hiding out of fear. When we informed him that we would need to clarify this with the Ministry, he attacked us." Helga summarised the situation. "He jumped on young Weasley before we could prevent it, and disarmed him. Our priority then became subduing him and immediately notifying the Ministry, as protocol dictated."
"Which student gave you the warning?" the Minister asked.
"Harry Potter," Kingsley replied. "We were quite surprised that he came to us."
"We'll administer Veritaserum," Amelia Bones stated, looking at Peter Pettigrew. "Given the unusual characteristics of his 'death' and his reappearance years later, the occasion certainly requires it."
"Proceed to administer Dawlish's potion," the Minister instructed.
Pettigrew looked on in horror as they agreed to administer the Veritaserum. The shackles on his wrists glowed, a clear sign that he had just attempted to transform into a rat, without success. Helga and Kingsley had decided to implement that precaution, not only for the present case but for any other inmates they might face in the future, proving that the system was indeed ineffective in some respects. Dawlish held Pettigrew's jaw open and forced him to ingest the potion. They then waited a few seconds before beginning the interrogation, which Amelia Bones would lead.
"What's your name?"
"Peter Pettigrew."
"How long have you been transformed into a rat?"
"From the day after the Dark Lord's downfall, when I managed to escape from Sirius."
"Why did you transform yourself, and how did you get to the Weasleys?"
"To hide until I knew that the Dark Lord was strong again and to be able to return to his protection. I needed to hide within a wizarding family, and the Weasleys were poor enough to adopt a lost rat they found in their garden as a pet. Had Black not escaped from Azkaban, I would have been able to continue living with that family until the time was right to act."
"What happened on that street in London twelve years ago?"
"I took advantage of Sirius being unhinged by the Potters' deaths to frame him and make him appear guilty for my death and the Muggles'. I was smarter than him, and it worked."
"Who was the Secret-Keeper, and why did everyone think it was Sirius?"
"I was the Secret-Keeper. It was an honour to give the address to my Lord. As for Sirius, it was his idea. He would be the public Secret-Keeper because it was what everyone expected. To achieve that, I had to write letters containing the address to several members of the Order of the Phoenix to inform them of the location. Sirius was then in charge of delivering these letters in person."
"But Dumbledore declared that the Secret-Keeper was Sirius..." the Minister objected, bewildered.
"That's because Dumbledore thought it was Sirius. Dumbledore offered to cast the charm, but the Potters refused. It was Lily Potter herself who cast it."
"Administer the antidote," Amelia Bones ruled. They already had the most important details. "Minister, I think we've been chasing the wrong man."
"Yes, well... I thought he was guilty."
"Perhaps it is time to repair that serious mistake," Dumbledore said, looking worried.
They arranged everything to transport Pettigrew to the Ministry. Just as the Minister, Amelia Bones, and the two Aurors were moving towards Hogwarts with Pettigrew, Helga staggered. Her wound had reopened, and she felt a sudden weakness. Kingsley immediately steadied her.
"You'd better take her to Madam Pomfrey now, if you don't want her collapsing," Dumbledore said, his expression etched with worry.
---
Salazar cursed his inability to intervene directly in the rat's capture. In fact, to avoid suspicion, both Godric and Salazar had been forced to remain on the sidelines, very much out of the way, with only a few simple observer posts from one of the castle towers. They couldn't be on the grounds at that time. Salazar resigned himself to watching as the rat created an opportunity to escape that was swiftly thwarted, though it was a moment of genuine danger. Godric had to hold Salazar back when Helga was injured; Salazar had desperately wanted to rush down and help her, to ensure she was alright, to hex the wretched rat for harming her... In the end, Godric managed to calm Salazar and lead him to the common room. There, Salazar gradually composed himself. Helga was fine, she had to be. Pettigrew had kept fighting, and he hadn't seemed like much of a challenge. It had been Helga's need to defend and protect Ron at all costs that had caused her injury. But Salazar couldn't help but feel nervous about the situation; if something went wrong, they would be left without the main evidence, which would be disastrous in many ways. Salazar took a soothing potion that Godric offered him and lay restlessly in one of the armchairs. It took almost an hour until new news arrived. Hermione entered the common room, looking upset; quickly, the two friends questioned her.
"I went down to the infirmary for a tonic for my nerves, you know I take several more subjects than everyone else. I met Ron, who Professor McGonagall was just leaving. Apparently, he was attacked by a wizard everyone thought was dead," Hermione began to explain quickly. Salazar noticed that Godric was listening to her very attentively, hardly missing a word. That was for the best, because Salazar wasn't truly present for anything other than ensuring Helga was well. "I stayed with him for a while, and when he recovered, he had a panic attack and kept screaming that Scabbers was a man. Madam Pomfrey had to give him a sedative potion and told me to leave. Just outside, I saw two adults enter whom I'd never seen before. A black man with a shaved head and a girl with pink hair. She seemed to look rather unwell... Harry, where are you going?"
"To the infirmary," Harry replied, leaving the common room and beginning to walk down the corridor.
"Wait until I come with you," Godric said.
"But the nurse said she didn't want anyone in the infirmary tonight. And besides, Ron is asleep."
"It's not Ron I'm going to see."
"But..."
"Hermione," Godric said, a hint of amusement in his voice. "Harry's smitten."
"Oh, okay... Isn't he a little older?" Hermione mused.
"Debate among yourselves about the appropriate age for someone I might fancy; I'm leaving," Salazar said, already halfway out the door.
"And how do you plan to get in?" Hermione called after him.
"It's almost curfew," Godric said, a mischievous glint in his eye. "I could break your arm, and you'd be in charge of convincing the nurse to let you stay. I could also vanish your bones."
"Neville!" Hermione exclaimed in horror, looking at Godric.
"The experience wasn't pleasant; I've had enough of that with one," Salazar replied, a little acidly, referring to his own past experience.
"At least there's someone sensible here," Hermione said, looking at Salazar.
"A bone-breaking curse will suffice, Neville. It's easy to reverse," Godric calmly suggested.
"Harry!" Hermione cried out, clearly distressed by Godric's casual suggestion.
Salazar stood before Godric, positioning his left arm for Godric to break with a wave of his wand. Salazar trusted Godric completely; he knew Godric would never hurt him more than necessary. Before Hermione could do anything, Godric cast the curse, at a low intensity but still potent enough to require even a small amount of Skele-Gro. That would guarantee Salazar's stay in the infirmary.
"I'll go with you to the infirmary," Godric said. "You..."
"I don't want to know anything about this. I'm going to go study a bit," Hermione declared, clearly exasperated.
Salazar cradled his arm against his chest in a position that minimised the pain and allowed himself to be accompanied to the infirmary. It would be foolish not to; fractures could be excruciatingly painful, and the four of them had, in the past, seen even burly blokes lose the colour from their faces and collapse over a broken bone. It was not advisable to risk something like that happening. When they arrived at the infirmary, Madam Pomfrey didn't seem very happy to see them. It wasn't surprising, given the job she must have had. But when either Godric or Salazar got something into their heads, it was difficult to change their minds. The nurse curtly dismissed Godric but allowed Salazar to stay the night when she saw the state of his arm – a well-achieved fracture of the ulna and radius. She gave him his dose of Skele-Gro after setting the bones and recommended that he lie down.
"I hope I don't have any more mishaps tonight," Madam Pomfrey murmured. "If you need anything, I'll be in my office." It was clear that she intended to lie down for a while.
As soon as Madam Pomfrey had left, Salazar sat up carefully. As he expected, Madam Pomfrey had put his arm in a sling. He looked around the infirmary. He could see Ron in the background, completely asleep. The poor boy would surely take a long time to digest what had happened; that was something that he and Godric would have to address. Salazar looked for Helga's location; she was on a stretcher, somewhat covered in sweat, and he could see bandages on her side. He was about to get up and head for her when something stopped him. From the shadows, in the semi-darkness of the infirmary, a person emerged; it was Helga's partner, Kingsley.
"She'll be fine. You didn't need to break your arm to sneak in here."
"How did you know?" Salazar hadn't noticed any intrusion in his mind, and now that he checked thoroughly, he saw that there hadn't been any. How could this man have deduced his intentions?
"I think I'd be able to do something similar myself. Not to mention that I was also thirteen once."
Salazar felt Kingsley's gaze; it seemed that he was evaluating him. It was as if Kingsley was judging him, but Salazar didn't feel like it intruded into his mind or his personal bubble; rather, Kingsley seemed somewhat protective towards his partner.
"She is the purest, bravest, and most loyal person I have ever met," Kingsley said. "Don't hurt her. She has already suffered enough because of her particular gift."
"I know what that is," Salazar said pointedly in Parseltongue, which startled Kingsley. "I don't mean to harm her, and I know well what it's like to be singled out for a gift you didn't choose. Last year, everyone believed that I was the one who attacked students just because I spoke Parseltongue and because graffiti appeared saying stupid things about an Heir of Slytherin. I know what it is to be judged by a gift, and I imagine that hers has been taken advantage of by others at some point, rather than judging it."
"Did you say there were attacks on students last year?" Kingsley asked, his expression serious.
"Yes. It's a long story. Do you want to hear it?"
"We have a long night of watching over her," Kingsley replied, a hint of weariness in his voice. "Please, begin."
---
That same night, few left the Ministry. The Minister for Magic met with Amelia Bones, who were later joined by Albus Dumbledore. The three of them were discussing what had happened and agreeing on what to tell the press. What had transpired had to reach all the media before any of them published the information in the most damaging way possible. Of course, the Sirius Black affair would be harmful, but they could solve that by holding a trial and diverting attention to the previous administration, the one to blame for an innocent man having ended up behind bars. They decided that both trials would be held one after the other and that they would take the opportunity to clarify how Sirius could escape from Azkaban. Although the photograph, which was already one of the pieces of evidence, showed important proof: there were no barriers against Animagi in the cells of Azkaban.
It was clear that Sirius Black should be exonerated and compensated. On the other hand, he would receive a fine for being an unregistered Animagus and would be forced to register. He would not be sent to prison for that, because in a way, he had already served that sentence. As for Pettigrew... That would be trickier. For the time being, they would withdraw his Order of Merlin and demand the return of the money. As for the rest, it was in the hands of the court.
"I will write the press release," the Minister declared. "Tomorrow, first thing in the morning, it will be in all the media."