Chapter 27: Decisions

Soon after Harry talked to Dumbledore, the door to the Room of Requirement burst open and Dumbledore, McGonagall, Snape, Moody, Tonks, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and Neville entered the room, which seemed to get bigger as more people went in. They found Harry sitting on the floor, the unconscious body of Peter Pettigrew beside him.

Dumbledore stepped forward to get a closer look at Pettigrew. Harry saw him cast several spells. Apparently satisfied, Dumbledore stepped back and turned to Moody.

"Alastor, I'm going to need you to go to the ministry. We need Fudge here."

Harry opened his mouth to protest but Dumbledore held up a hand to stop him.

"Harry, I know you don't trust the man but in matters like these, we need the minister."

Harry shut his mouth and stared glumly at the floor. Moody left the room and Dumbledore turned to Snape.

"Severus, I'm going to need you to get the strongest truth serum that you possess and meet us back here."

Snape nodded curtly and swept out of the room.

We need chairs in here, thought Ginny. Immediately seven chairs popped up in the room. Ginny, Ron, Hermione, and Neville took their seats. Tonks followed suit. Harry remained on the ground.

"Harry?" asked Dumbledore gently. When Harry didn't answer he tried a little louder. "Harry?"

That time Harry looked up. He didn't speak but there was a questioning look in his eyes.

"Why don't you sit down," the headmaster suggested. Harry shook his head. "I think you should sit down." There was a slight firmness in his voice that let Harry know that he really had no choice in the matter. Sighing, he lifted himself up and plopped into the nearest chair.

"Thank you," said Dumbledore. Harry ignored him.

Ten minutes later the door opened and Snape stepped into the room. Another chair immediately sprang up between Harry's and Dumbledore's. Snape stared at the chair for a moment before sitting down. Then he looked down at Pettigrew, who's breathing was starting to come out in wheezing gasps.

"The stunning hex is coming off," he said. Everyone in the room looked down at the man on the floor. Snape's eyes narrowed in suspicion. He stood up and rolled the body over. After looking over it he turned back to Dumbledore.

"There is some extreme bruising on this upper body. One of his ribs is broken. Do you have any idea how this came to be about?" Snape looked at Harry as he spoke that last question. So did everyone else. Harry looked down at the ground.

"Seems someone still hasn't learned to control his anger," Snape said callously.

"Severus." There was a slight warning in Dumbledore's voice. Harry continued to stare down at Pettigrew. Anger was starting to raise in him again. He couldn't stay in this room. The walls were beginning to close in around him. Finally having had enough, he stood up and pushed his chair out of his way.

"Harry, where are you going?" asked Dumbledore, the warning still present in his voice.

"You're a bloody liar!" Harry snapped at him, turning to leave again.

"What did I lie about?" asked the headmaster.

"You said that the time would come when I was glad that I saved Pettigrew's life. When exactly is that going to be?"

Without waiting for an answer, Harry spun around and stormed over to the door. He was about to open in when it flung open for the third time that night and hit him square in the head. Cursing, Harry stumbled backwards, clutching his head. Moody and Fudge stepped into the room.

"Didn't anyone ever tell you not to loiter on the other side of a door, Potter?" asked Moody gruffly. Harry glared at him, certain that Moody had done that intentionally to keep him from leaving. Surely his eye would have shown him that Harry was on the other side of the door.

"What is so important that you deemed it necessary to drag me away from my meeting?" asked Fudge. The way he talked made Harry sure that there had been no meeting.

"Forgive me for interrupting," said Dumbledore, his eyes boring into Fudge's. "I was under the belief that when supposedly dead Death Eaters show up at Hogwarts you were to be informed."

"'Supposedly dead Death Eaters'?" repeated Fudge, confused. Seeing Pettigrew on the floor he immediately jumped backwards and stared down at the man.

"Well I'll be...that's Peter Pettigrew!" he gasped. "B-but, but he's dead!"

"Clearly he isn't," snarled Harry, not in the mood to deal with Fudge. He met Dumbledore's disapproving eyes and stared down at the floor again.

"Severus has brought along with him his strongest truth serum," continued Dumbledore. "If you would like to question him..."

"Of course I would like to question him!" snapped Fudge. He cast an eye over Harry and his friends. "At the ministry, where we can use our own truth serum and ask our questions without the students' interfering," he added.

"I'm sure they won't be in the way," stated Dumbledore calmly. "And seeing as how Harry here was the one who discovered Mr. Pettigrew, it's only fitting that he should get to witness the questioning, is it not?"

Glowering at the headmaster, Fudge said, in a tight voice, "Of course. The others can wait outside."

"That sounds perfectly reasonable," said the headmaster cheerfully, stemming the protests that were sure to follow. "Ms. Granger, if you and your friends would kindly wait outside...I'm sure Harry will let you know when it's over."

"I want to go with them," said Harry. After everything that had happened that night, all he wanted to do was go to sleep.

"I would prefer if you'd stay here, Harry."

Harry hated the way that Dumbledore could ask someone to do something in a way that left no room for opposition. Glumly, Harry sat in his chair while his friends exited the room. Meanwhile, Moody muttered a few words. Instantly a quill and some parchment appeared. Harry could hear Fudge talking and could see the quill writing on its own, but he couldn't make out what either of them were about. He watched as Snape spelled Pettigrew into a chair. As soon as he was seated chains sprang up, securing him to the chair. Opening the other man's mouth, Snape placed three drops of Veritaserum his tongue. He stepped aside and Fudge took his place, pointing his wand at Pettigrew and muttering, "Ennervate."

Pettigrew's eyes opened. He blinked a few times, and Harry could see that his eyes were out of focus, like he wasn't really seeing anything at all. Then Dumbledore started talking.

"What is your name?"

"Peter Lawrence Pettigrew." His voice sounded a million miles away, like he didn't even know what he was answering.

"What is your age?"

"Thirty-seven."

"Where did you attend school?"

"Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

"Did Lily and James Potter name you their secret keeper when they first discovered that Lord Voldemort was after them?"

"No."

"Who was?"

"Sirius Black." Harry scowled as Fudge began to look triumphant.

"When did they name you secret keeper?"

"A week before they died." Fudge's smile slipped.

"Why did they change from Mr. Black to you?"

"Sirius told them it was a good idea."

"Why did he feel it would be a good idea?"

" He said that everyone knew that he was their best friend, so everyone would suspect it was him. No one would ever suspect that I would be their secret keeper."

"And did you keep their secret?"

"No." Any trace of a smile had vanished from Fudge's face.

"Whom did you tell?"

"My master."

"And who is your master?"

"The Dark Lord."

Fudge seemed to grow impatient with Dumbledore's line of questioning. Cutting the headmaster off, he began to ask instead.

"How did you survive your encounter with Sirius Black?"

Pettigrew opened his mouth as if to answer. Then he started to squirm.

"What's going on?" demanded Fudge, turning to Dumbledore. "I thought one wasn't able to fight this serum!"

"He's not fighting it. You have to be more specific with your questioning," explained Dumbledore with little patience. "He has had two encounters with Sirius Black since the night at Godric's Hollow."

"How did you survive your first encounter with Sirius Black?"

"I transfigured into a rat and escaped down the nearest sewer."

Fudge was dumbfounded. "You're an Animagus?"

"Yes."

"What's your form?" Harry didn't bother to resist rolling his eyes.

"A rat."

Fudge seemed to realize how stupid his question had been. Turning a slight shade of pink, he resumed questioning.

"How long have you been an Animagus?"

"Since sixth year."

"Are you registered?"

"No."

"Once you had escaped, where did you go?"

"I lived as a pet to a wizarding family."

"What family?"

"The Weasleys."

Fudge looked up at Dumbledore, who nodded. Fudge glanced at Harry before turning back to the drugged man.

"How long did you live with them?"

"Twelve years."

"When did you stop?"

"When Sirius found me."

"When was this?"

"Almost three years ago."

"How did you escape that time?"

"Harry Potter saved me."

Harry looked down at his clasped hands, refusing to meet the eyes of Fudge, Moody, Tonks, or McGonagall, all of whom were looking at him in surprise. Snape, though Harry couldn't see, was giving him a hard look, the only indication that he had heard anything strange.

"How did he save you?"

"He stopped Remus and Sirius from killing me."

"Why did he do that?"

"He said that he didn't think James would want them to become killers."

"Did you two work out some sort of an agreement?"

"Yes."

"What was it?"

"I was supposed to take Sirius's place in Azkaban. If I transformed, Sirius and Remus had Potter's permission to kill me."

"So how did you escape?"

"I transformed."

"Where did you go then?"

"Little Hangleton."

"What was there?"

"My master."

"The Dark Lord?"

"Yes."

"So you brought him back?"

"Partly."

"What do you mean?"

"I gave him my hand."

"Your hand?"

"Yes."

"Why your hand?"

"He needed 'the flesh of a servant.'"

"What else did he need?"

"'Bone of a father' and 'blood of an enemy.'"

"Whose blood did he use?"

"Harry Potter's."

"How did he get Harry Potter's blood?"

"He positioned one of his faithful Death Eaters at Hogwarts with the instructions to place Potter's name into the Goblet of Fire."

"And who was that Death Eater?"

"Bartemius Crouch, Jr."

Fudge paused in his line of questioning again. Whatever blush that had marred his cheeks before was gone; he was now a pasty white. Harry sneered. Apparently finding out that Harry had been telling the truth all this time was too much for the minister.

"Why are you here?"

"I'm following my master's orders."

"And what were his orders?"

"To spy on the students."

"How did you manage to do that?"

"I became a pet to one of the Hufflepuff students."

Hufflepuff...suddenly Snape's earlier warning about Hufflepuffs made a lot more sense. Daring a glance at Snape, Harry saw a slight look of realization flicker over his potion's professor's face.

"Which student?"

"Penny Hyzer."

Harry closed his eyes. That had been the girl that Ron was yelling at earlier that night. He was yelling at her for being in their common room. Well, thought Harry, at least that explains how he got into my robes.

Feeling slightly dizzy and quite a bit lethargic, Harry didn't pay attention to the rest of the questioning. He picked up on enough to understand that his assumptions that Pettigrew snuck into his robes were correct. He looked up only when he heard Moody stun Pettigrew. Fudge leaned back and frowned, apparently deep in thought.

"It looks as if Sirius Black wasn't guilty after all," he stated. He didn't sound the least bit apologetic. On the contrary, he sounded as if he were merely stating that the sun hadn't come up as soon as he had expected.

"Oh, don't worry; that's all right," sneered Harry sarcastically. "I'm sure Azkaban wasn't too terrible for him."

Dumbledore didn't even bother to admonish him. Fudge looked affronted. Glaring at Harry, he was about to say something when Dumbledore cut him off.

"Well, this does leave us with an interesting predicament, doesn't it?"

"I'm afraid I don't understand what you mean." Fudge's tone told Harry that the older man knew exactly what Dumbledore meant. Dumbledore knew that, too, though he still answered the unspoken question.

"Well, now that Sirius Black's dead" (Harry flinched slightly at the flippant way that headmaster spoke) "giving him his life back is going to be slightly difficult, is it not? And then there's the question as to what will be done with Mr. Pettigrew."

"What do you mean, 'what will be done with' him?" demanded Fudge. "He'll go to Azkaban."

"There aren't even dementors there any more!" protested Harry. "And even if they were, we all know that Voldemort could get him out of there anyway. I mean, he's done it three times now."

"I'm afraid Harry's right, Cornelius," said Dumbledore, cutting in before Fudge could retort to Harry's comment. "As the dementors are no longer there, all you'll be doing is sending him to sit in a room until Voldemort comes to collect him."

"And what would you have me do?" snarled Fudge.

"Kill him."

Fudge stared at him. So did Harry. So did everyone else in the room, for that matter.

"I beg your pardon?"

"I meant just what I said," stated Dumbledore. "You heard him. He and Harry had an agreement. If Pettigrew transformed, Harry agreed that he should be killed. Since Pettigrew transformed, he has every right to be killed."

"What difference does it make if Potter agreed to it?" snapped Fudge. "We all agreed that Potter should be expelled last year, and yet you didn't see that happen, did you?"

"That's because the right to expel students does not belong to the Minister of Magic," said Dumbledore calmly.

"And the right to decide who dies does not belong to the Boy-Who-Lived," countered Fudge.

"Under normal circumstances, you would be correct, Cornelius. However, I'm afraid that in this case, Mr. Pettigrew's fate does rest in Harry's hands."

"What makes you so sure?" asked Fudge, his eyes narrowed into little slits. Harry was looking at Dumbledore, too, sure that the old man had finally lost his mind. That belief was strengthened ten-fold when the headmaster chuckled quietly.

"You heard him as well as I, Cornelius. Harry saved Pettigrew's life. And you know as well as I do that when one wizard saves another wizard, a certain bond is forged between them."

A look of dawning took over Fudge's face, a look that quickly turned into one of disbelief.

"Their agreement, though not written down as most are, still stands. I believe Remus Lupin and Sirius Black were to be the ones to kill him if he transformed?"

Harry nodded numbly. Dumbledore continued.

"I'm afraid that neither one of these men is able to follow through on that now. Law states then, that Harry is to decide an alternative plan for us to follow," said Dumbledore, turning to look at Harry as he spoke. "So Harry, what do you propose we do?"

Harry took one look around everyone in the room before bolting as fast as he could out of the room.

Chapter 28: Payment of Debt

Harry stood, staring down at he headstones in front of him.

Remus J. Lupin

"Moony"

1959-1996

A kind and caring friend

who stood up for his rights

and those around him.

Sirius R. Black

"Padfoot"

1959-1995

A loyal and honorable

friend until the very end.

Marauders for life.

The Order decided that, even though they didn't have his body, Sirius deserved a headstone as well. It was placed right next to Lupin's. Harry ran his hand silently along the top of Sirius's and then moved and did the same to Lupin's.

It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair that Sirius finally had his name cleared, and he wasn't there to enjoy it. It wasn't fair that Remus finally had a place where he could fit in, and the town wasn't there to accept him. It wasn't fair that Pettigrew had finally been caught and neither one of the people he had hurt the most was able to see it.

Harry had spent the better part of three days deciding what he was going to do to Pettigrew. As angry as he was, Harry still didn't like the thought that this man's fate rested in his hands. Harry had to keep reminding himself whose death it was that he was planning. He wanted something that would make him feel vindicated in some way. When he had finally come up with a plan, he ran it past his friends. Hermione looked startled. Neville looked understanding. Ron suggested poison instead. Ginny hit Ron and told Harry that he had to do what he felt was best.

That was why Harry found himself, two days later, back in the Department of Mysteries. He was standing at the top of the stairs, looking down at the veil that Sirius had fallen through just one year ago. He had never expected to be back here, let alone ask to be brought back here, but things changed. Seeing Pettigrew fall through the veil was even more painful than Harry had thought it would be, but it was something he had to do. For Sirius. For Remus.

After that, they left the Department of Mysteries and headed toward the funeral. It had been a very difficult service for Harry to attend, especially when Sirius's tombstone was added. He was just glad that Dumbledore hadn't forced him to say something. He didn't think he would have been able to say a word.

A lot of people had shown up. Harry was glad of that. Almost the entire Order was there, as well as a few of Lupin and Sirius's old school friends. Harry was surprised to see Angelina Johnson there. Fred informed him that she had joined after she spent the better part of three months trying to guess where he and George kept disappearing to.

After the service, everyone seemed to split into groups. Harry, not in the mood for small talk, walked over to stand in front of the graves. Self-loathing thoughts seeped into his mind. Zabini hadn't found out about the attack until it was too late to do anything . Had the Order had a real spy in there, they would have known about the attack and been able to stop it from happening. If Snape hadn't given up his position to save Harry, an entire werewolf community wouldn't have been taken prisoner. Lupin wouldn't have died.

"Drowning in self-pity, Potter?"

Harry whirled around to find Snape right behind him. Looking deep into the older man's eyes, Harry was surprised to find that there wasn't nearly as much hatred present as there usually was.

"What do you care?" asked Harry coldly, turning back to look at the graves. "I suppose this is your greatest wish come true, is it? All the Marauders are dead, and you can't be blamed for a single one of their deaths."

Though I can, thought Harry miserably.

"Potter, I'm going to let you in on a little secret," said Snape, stepping forward to stand right next to Harry. "The whole world does not revolve around you."

"What are you talking about?" snapped Harry. "I wasn't talking about me."

"You were thinking about you!" retorted Snape. "You need to get your mind under control, especially during times like this when you are your most vulnerable. This would be the opportune moment for the Dark Lord to attack you."

"Of course this would be the opportune moment for the Dark Lord to attack me!" countered Harry angrily. "The entire bloody Order of the Phoenix is here. All he'd have to do is get a bomb and a small plane and he could kill every single one of us!"

"What in Merlin's name are you blabbering on about?" asked Snape, a curious glint in his eye.

"Never mind," sighed Harry. His anger left as quickly as it had come, leaving him exhausted.

"Keep your mind clear," warned Snape, turning to walk away. "It's a shame that after all that time, Lupin couldn't teach you any better than I could."

Harry narrowed his eyes, silently fuming. This was a funeral, damn it! What ever happened to showing the dead a little respect? Then again, this was Snape he was talking about. Since when did the man ever show anyone any respect? Sighing, Harry walked over to where Ron and the others were standing. He needed something to keep his mind off where he was.

xxx

The last month passed in a daze. Harry dreaded going to Defense Against the Dark Arts, as he knew that Lupin wasn't going to be teaching. He dreaded going to Transfiguration, as he knew that McGonagall was going to be giving him sympathetic looks the entire time. Surprisingly, he didn't dread going to Potions, as he knew that Snape was going to be treating him exactly as he had before. And they still had their weekly sessions in Snape's office. Snape seemed to be determined to pretend that nothing had happened.

Although, figured Harry as he worked on his essay, perhaps Snape doesn't think that anything big did happen.

Sighing, Harry finished up his essay, leaned back in his chair, and looked around the empty common room. It was the last Hogsmeade weekend of the year. While Dumbledore still didn't feel that the streets were safe, he did feel that the children needed a break from their school work. At first Harry though that this trip to Hogsmeade had been a set up by Dumbledore to get him out of the castle. Then McGonagall held him back from class and requested that he stay on the grounds. After being assured that Harry would be all right on his own, Ron and the others left.

Harry really needed something to do. He had finished all of his homework; Ron and Hermione were gone; he had nothing to do. He walked up to his dorm, figuring he'd grab a book to read. While he was digging through his trunk for a book, though, he caught sight his Firebolt.

Memories instantly came flooding back to him...a magnificent, gleaming broomstick rolled out onto his bed..."I daresay Madam Hooch and Professor Flitwick will strip it down—"...You've got a very good friend somewhere, Potter..." the Firebolt was passed around and admired from every angle...it seemed to obey his thoughts rather than his grip...It was I who sent you the Firebolt...

Making up his mind, Harry grabbed his broom and took off toward the Quidditch pitch.

xxx

He hadn't ridden his broom since that last game with Malfoy. He had been so caught up in everything that was going on, Quidditch just didn't seem to matter to him. And it still didn't matter to him. But flying had always been something he enjoyed, something he could do without thinking. Hence his decision to go flying. He thought he would be able to clear his mind.

As soon as he kicked his feet off the ground and felt the wind against his face, Harry instantly felt at home. This was where he belonged. No snitches, no players, no fans depending on him to win the game. Just him, his broom, and the wind.

He had been flying for a few hours when he saw some of the students start heading back up to the castle. The Hogsmeade visit was apparently over. Harry flew lower over the field so that the returning students wouldn't see him. As his toes skimmed the grass, Harry looked up. From where he was, the Whomping Willow could barely be seen over the tops of the nearest trees. Harry sighed as his thoughts automatically turned to Lupin.

As guilt filled Harry's thoughts again, he was reminded of something he had heard a long time ago, something one of his Muggle teachers had told him when he was a little boy.

Everyone deserves happiness.

Harry snorted. That teacher had been one of the few (if not the only) teachers who seemed to sense that something wasn't quite "normal" with the Dursleys. She had been the only one to ever take his side when Dudley had beat him up on school property and gotten away with it. That teacher had sat Harry down and told him that what Dudley was doing wasn't right. She had told him that he deserved happiness, and that some day, when he was older and away from the Dursleys, he would find it. That teacher was stupid.

Here he was, almost nine years older and away from the Dursleys. He didn't have happiness, and he damn well knew that he didn't deserve it. Casting one last look up at the Whomping Willow, Harry thought about everything that had happened while he was at Hogwarts...

First year, he had been attacked by a twelve-foot high mountain troll, a three-headed dog, an evil Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, and Voldemort.

Second year, he crashed a flying car into the Whomping Willow. He had stopped a fellow classmate from a giant snake and then been ostracized for being a parselmouth. He had been attacked by giant spiders and managed to clear Hagrid's name, all before killing an ancient basilisk and accomplishing something wizards had been trying to do for decades and not been able to do: locate the Chamber of Secrets.

Third year, he had found out the truth about his parents and Sirius Black. He learned how to fight the dementors and then managed to save himself from having his soul sucked out of him. He managed to save two innocent lives and send one guilty one back to Voldemort.

Fourth year, he had battled his way through fighting a giant dragon, finding a date for (and surviving) the Yule Ball, rescuing two people from the bottom of a lake, and forcing his way through a giant maze. He witnessed Voldemort's return and managed to survive.

Fifth year, he had been attacked by dementors blocks from his own house. He had been expelled from, suspended from, and eventually readmitted to Hogwarts. He had spent the year trying to convince most of the world that he was not an attention-seeking, raving lunatic while also trying to figure out what Dumbledore wasn't telling him about. He had fought centaurs, Death Eaters, Voldemort, and his own conscience before returning to yet another infuriating summer at Privet drive.

Sixth year, he had been hit with a curse that he had never even heard of before and forced to watch the worst moments of his life over and over again. He had been awarded Order of Merlin, third class, and then thrown the award back in Fudge's face. He had been named Hogwarts' best dueler and then outsmarted by a bunch of Death Eaters and tortured to within an inch of his life. He ousted the best spy the Order had and then been taught by said spy how to survive.

He had watched friends and family be hurt and killed. He had been humiliated and comforted. He had felt alone and gregarious. His life at Hogwarts had been filled with so many ups and downs during his six year stay.

He couldn't wait to see what would happen during his next, and final, year at Hogwarts.

fin