Friday, 22 November 1991
Harry was sitting in his dorm with the Map spread out across the foot of his bed, searching through the pages to see everything his dad and adoptive dads had discovered in their time at Hogwarts. He was pretty sure the only reason the Map functioned was because his father was a descendent of Gryffindor, it was the only way he could explain how the castle's magic would allow something to exist that could track every person within the wards.
At that thought, he started to wonder if the Map also showed animals.
Up until now, he'd avoided looking at the dorms, it felt a bit like an invasion of privacy. Also, they were so crowded that it was impossible to tell where one name ended and another began. Now though, on a decently sunny late November afternoon, most of the school was outside in one of the courtyards under layers of warming charms pretending they weren't cold. Harry was alone in his dorm and he wouldn't be surprised if he were one of the only people in the Tower.
He quickly located Gryffindor Tower on the map and tried to think of an animal he knew the name of to see if they'd managed to track more than just humans. His first thought, of course, was Scabbers. The rat was currently sleeping on Ron's pillow so he should be pretty easy to find.
However, when Harry found his own name, the only name nearby was Peter Pettigrew. And, suddenly, he understood.
'He's a rat,' Remus had said one evening when they were discussing if they'd ever have a chance of clearing Sirius' name, even if it would technically be posthumously, 'both literal and figurative. A common brown rat. We'll never find him.'
Well, Dad, Harry thought, gaze locked on the sleeping rat, eyes literally glowing with anger, found him.
In a matter of seconds, he'd stunned the rat and conjured a cage, with another wave of his hand he made sure the cage would expand even if Pettigrew woke up and transformed. He wasn't sure how to stop him from transforming at all, so this would have to do for now.
His first thought was to run to the nearest functioning floo and chuck him through for Sirius to murder but then he paused and tried to think rationally.
The goal was to clear Sirius' name. Even though he'd been a free man for six years, he was technically dead and committing some sort of identity fraud. If they could clear 'Sirius Black,' it'd go a long way in bettering the reputation of the Blacks as a whole and it'd take some scrutiny off 'Archer' when he stepped into the Wizengamot as the new Lord Black in January. Also, it'd allow Harry to say that Sirius Black had been his godfather with pride and not be met with questions he couldn't answer without openly admitting to committing treason as a child.
He needed to take Peter to an authority figure. He needed to do this without revealing he had a magical map that likely broke a dozen school rules and a dozen more generally applied laws of magic, like effectively mapping an unplottable castle, just to name one example.
It took him far too long to remember he could see magic and had been around at least two registered animagi (Arcturus Ares Black was a proudly – and entirely legally - registered Grim animagus, thank you very much). He fixed his gaze on Peter once more and let his mind focus. Peter's magic was two-toned, exactly like Sirius and McGonagall's. Harry had learned that with animagi and humanoid creatures, like werewolves, he could always see the two distinct sources of magic. There was a person's magical core and then there was something more raw, more wild. Something that looked like the magic of an actual creature.
He decided he'd say he was in his dorm practicing charm work and using his sight to better understand the spells and that he'd happened to glance at Scabbers and realized there was an animagus living in their dorm. He'd let whoever eventually cast the revealing spell 'tell him' who it was.
He took another moment to weave the memory in his mind so if the Headmaster or whatever Auror showed up decided to take an unauthorized look they'd only see what he allowed. Then, with a deep breath and a call to justice that he was choosing to chalk up to his Gryffindor magic singing through his blood because that was easier to process than his own righteous fury, he picked up the cage and headed for McGonagall's office.
* * *
Minerva McGonagall was having a normal day. She had the last two blocks of Friday free and was peacefully sitting in her office grading 6th year papers on vertebrate to invertebrate transfiguration when a knock sounded at her door. She could ignore it, but she'd dedicated herself to helping students and, annoyingly, she enjoyed her job, so she called out, "come in!"
"Hello, Professor," Harry greeted, holding a small cage and looking properly scared which was odd seeing as he'd beheaded a troll a couple weeks prior without even blinking and spent most evenings all but free falling from 100 metres above the pitch with the way he dove. For him to be showing any amount of fear made the hair on the back of her neck stand up.
"What can I do for you, Mr. Potter?"
"Well, see, I was working on charms in my dorm and if I focus, I can see magic, and then it's easier for me to understand the charm and then I was looking around the room and noticed something odd about Scabbers-"
"Mr. Weasley's rat?" she interrupted.
"Yes, ma'am. I noticed he was magical which was strange because Ron had said he was just a garden rat and then I thought maybe it was ambient magic from living at the Burrow and then in the castle but when I looked harder I realized his magic looks like yours and like my father's."
"He's an animagus," she realized quickly, eyes widening and realizing why, exactly, Harry looked afraid. There was a random man living in a dorm full of eleven-year-old boys. Without another word she pulled out her wand and sent off two patroni. Within moments, Kingsley Shacklebolt was stepping through her fireplace and the Headmaster was coming through the door at a faster pace than she thought possible for a man well past 100.
"I'm sorry," Kingsley said, staring wide eyed at his former professor, "did you say one of your first years caught an unregistered animagus living in their dorm?"
"He's right here, sir," Harry said, holding up the cage. "I'm not sure if he's registered or not, I didn't exactly take the time to check."
Minerva saw Albus bite back a smile at the boy's snark before schooling his face. She felt the same. She almost wanted to award points for maintaining that level of sarcasm in the face of an unidentified person sleeping in your best friend's bed.
"Right, well," Shacklebolt said, apparently not sure how to respond to the child holding a perfectly conjured cage and making jokes to law enforcement, "someone should perform the reversal charm."
"Afraid that's not in the first year curriculum, sir."
"Harry, my boy," Albus said, amusement clear in his tone. She watched his nose twitch, a sure tell that he was trying desperately not to laugh. "I don't believe Auror Shacklebolt was asking you."
"Oh, well, my mistake," Harry shrugged, setting the cage on the floor and waving a hand as if to say be my guest.
This kid was lucky the world believed Sirius Black to be dead and not simply an escaped convict otherwise people who'd spent any sort of time around the man might start guessing who, exactly, had raised Harry Potter.
Dumbledore flicked his wand in the direction of the rat and just as Minerva was about to stop him and tell him he should probably vanish the cage first so he didn't inadvertently kill whoever this animal transformed into, the cage started to expand.
She had half a second to think that conjuration and adaptive expansion charms also weren't on the first year curriculum before she realized who she was looking at.
"Is that…" Dumbledore started before trailing off, eyes locked on the faded outline of a Dark Mark on the man's left arm.
Harry looked up at him, blinking innocently and she realized the little shit knew exactly who he was looking at as he asked, "do you know this man, sir?"
"I believe it's Peter Pettigrew."
"So Remus was right," Harry whispered to himself, tearing up slightly. Minerva had the hysterical thought that someone should sign this kid up for a theatre program, she knew he was acting and was almost convinced.
"What do you mean, Harry?" Dumbledore asked softly, looking like he wanted to reach out and comfort the boy but wasn't sure if it'd be welcomed. She also knew he was still confused that the entire House of Black along with Remus Lupin had shown up for Harry's quidditch match but, when asked, he'd simply said that he was glad the boy had a support system. She'd been shocked when she realized he was being genuine.
"Remus always said there was no way that Sirius would've betrayed my parents, that there's no way he would've put me in harm. Do you know what the godfather oath is, Professor?"
"I can't say I have any experience with it."
"Hold on," Kingsley cut in, looking up from where he was placing a truly mindboggling number of Auror-grade suppression and binding charms on Pettigrew before he dropped a portkey into the cage that immediately activated, spinning off toward the Ministry holding cells, "are you saying that Sirius Black was your oathsworngodfather?"
"Yes, sir," Harry confirmed. "It's on my Gringotts records. He named me his Heir as well."
"I'm sorry, what does the oath mean?" Dumbledore asked gently.
"If he'd done anything to purposefully endanger me he would've been judged by Lady Magic. He'd have either lost his magic or died instantly depending on the amount of harm," Harry explained. "And from what I know he was still alive and a wizard when he was put in Azkaban."
"Why didn't that come out in his trial?" Kingsley asked.
Minerva watched Harry's eyes light up, just for a second, just enough to tell her that was exactly what he wanted someone to ask, "I don't know, sir, I've never seen his trial records and when my grandfather asked the DMLE he was told they were sealed."
Harry couldn't have asked for a better Auror to be standing across from right now. Kingsley had been trained by Amelia Bones and Alastor Moody. He was ruthless in the pursuit of the truth. With him in charge, she was rather certain Sirius' name would be cleared by the time they sat down for breakfast on Monday.
"They told me it was Sirius," Albus said, voice cracking as he stared down at the place where his former student, someone he'd once thought was an ally, had just been, still very clearly alive and very clearly the real traitor. "I assumed he'd had a trial. The Ministry was bedlam after the war, I thought…"
"It's not your fault, Professor," Harry said, patting Albus' forearm gently.
"That's very kind of you, Harry, but my lapse has done you a great disservice. You should've grown up with your godfather and by believing what I was told and what I thought to be true instead of digging further I failed you and I failed Sirius."
Harry looked shocked. He was obviously expecting Albus to explain it away, cover up his mistake somehow, but instead he'd been honest.
"Thank you for saying that, sir," Harry said softly before clearing his throat and turning back to Kingsley, "you should probably contact Arcturus Black sooner rather than later, he's a bit scary when he's angry and if he finds out about this in the papers he might follow through on his threat to light the Ministry on fire."
"When did he threaten that?" Kingsley asked, looking genuinely afraid. Which, to be fair, was smart when it came to Arcturus.
"Oh, only twice a week since I was five," Harry shrugged, a slight smirk on his face that made it clear he was only half joking.
"I'm sorry, son," Kingsley said, seemingly coming back to himself after several minutes of being in clear shock, "I didn't catch your name. I mean, I can assume, but-"
"Harrison Potter-Black," Harry said, cutting off his rambling. "Feel free to call me Harry."
Kingsley let out a laugh that had everyone in the room wondering if he'd finally cracked, "a Potter raised in the House of Black? Good luck, Professors," he added, shaking his head and Minerva suddenly remembered this man had been at school with James and Sirius. He'd been roommates with Frank Longbottom and the Prewett twins, only two years above the so-called Marauders. He knew exactly how much luck they needed. "Thanks for the tip on your grandfather, Harry. Would you like to be personally updated on what we find regarding your godfather?"
"No thank you," Harry decided, "Grandfather will tell me what I need to know."
"Alright," Kingsley said, "you should think about becoming an Auror. That was an impressive capture."
"I'll consider it," Harry told him in a tone that told Minerva he was lying through his teeth.
Kingsley nodded, satisfied, before bidding the group goodbye and heading back through the floo with a promise that he'd find the truth.
As soon as the flames returned to their normal colour and Dumbledore bid his own goodbyes before heading out the door muttering about having to call the Wizengamot, Harry flopped into one of the chairs in front of her desk with a huff, "thank whatever deities that are listening that I was the one to find him and not any of my guardians."
Minerva let out a laugh and Harry grinned, obviously pleased with himself.
"You knew who he was the entire time," she said, it wasn't a question.
"Ask me no questions and I shall tell you no lies."
"You are something else, Mr. Potter."
"Hey, someone's gotta provide the entertainment."
* * *
Wednesday, 25 November 1991
"Hey, George," Harry greeted, dropping into the seat next to him at the Gryffindor table.
"Morning, sunshine," George responded, with a concerningly wide grin. "Have you seen the papers?"
Harry shook his head before leaning against George's side to read the headline he was pointing to:
Peter Pettigrew Alive, Sirius Black Innocent
It wasn't the most creative headline Harry had ever seen, but it certainly got the point across.
The article went on to discuss the fact that a new Lord Black had been named, that he was Harry Potter's adoptive father, and that he'd be stepping into the Wizengamot come January. It talked about how Archer Black, the youngest son of Arcturus and Melania Black, had completed his education at Beauxbatons and had been a top student, how he'd been hired by Gringotts immediately following his graduation but that he'd moved his career to Britain in order to care for the son of his sister-in-law's cousin, for his nephew's godson.
It painted 'Archer' in a great light and Harry just knew Arcturus was doing a happy dance where ever he was reading this article from, something the public would never believe but that Harry had seen on more than one occasion.
Harry had gathered Ron, Percy, and the twins in an abandoned classroom over the weekend to tell them who, exactly, had been posing as their family pet for the past decade. It had gone over about as well as Harry expected.
He knew Pettigrew had been tried and convicted in a closed session the day before but seeing it in ink made it sink in.
Sirius was innocent and it had only taken a jail break, a fake identity, and an eleven-year-old with a magical map to make it happen.
He slumped, resting his head against George's shoulder and realized just how tired he was. He was exhausted in a bone deep way. It shouldn't have taken that amount of chaos to finally declare a man innocent, he should've gotten a trial like everyone else instead of being swept under the rug. He should be able to walk outside tomorrow as Sirius Black instead of Archer but he can't without them taking a family trip to Azkaban. Breaking an innocent person out of prison is still a crime … they'd checked.
"Are you alright?" George asked softly.
"Tired," Harry answered. "But yeah, I'm alright."
"When's your first class?"
"Defense at 9."
George glanced at his watch before picking up both of their bags and pulling Harry to his feet, "come on."
"Wait," Harry said, not whined, he didn't whine, no matter what anyone tells you. "I'm hungry."
"And I have a solution for that, come on."
Harry huffed but didn't say anything else as he followed George out of the hall and down the stairs. He only got an idea of where they were going when he spotted the barrels that mark the entrance to the Hufflepuff common room, he'd spotted it on the Map but hadn't had a chance to visit, "the kitchens?"
"Yes, now tickle the pear."
"Tickle the pear?"
"Tickle the pear."
Harry tickled the pear.
He was met by the sight of at least 200 house elves bustling about an area the size of the Great Hall. It was insanity. He loved it immediately.
"Over here," George said, nodding toward a small table in the corner of the room. "Now we just have to wait until one of them has a moment. It's only a quarter past seven so we've got time."
"I have a solution for that," Harry echoed, "Kreacher!"
"What can Kreacher be doing for Young Master Harry?" he asked, popping into existence right on top of the table. "And Young Master Harry's friend?" he added, eyeing George critically, like he was trying to determine the best way to kill him if he dared hurt his Harry.
"Do you have a way to get me breakfast here without disturbing the elves' work?"
Kreacher rolled his eyes before snapping his fingers and Harry grinned as a small feast appeared. The absurdly large assortment of French pastries told him it'd come from Camelot's kitchens rather than Hogwarts'.
"Did you just steal their breakfast?" he asked, not really caring if Kreacher had.
"Daisy will make more," Kreacher shrugged before grabbing an Éclair and jumping down into the seat next to Harry.
"Who's this?" George asked, face some mix of afraid and amused. Which, fair.
"Kreacher, my personal elf. He used to be a Black elf but he decided he liked me better."
"Kreacher does not like Young Master Harry," he huffed, chocolate icing smeared across his upper lip and somehow on his nose, "Kreacher simply tolerates him."
"Right," Harry nodded, not believing him for a second. "You tolerate me so much you've risked Daisy's wrath to bring me breakfast."
"Exactly," Kreacher said, patting the back of Harry's hand with a smile and a nod.
Harry shook his head with a light laugh as he filled his plate, nudging George to do the same, and enjoyed his first moment of real peace in quite some time.