Harry sits down in the trophy room, staring at the unconscious form of Peter Pettigrew as they wait for the Aurors to arrive. Snape is furious with him, but Harry truly doesn't care at this moment in time, and he just stares at Pettigrew. Lupin comes slowly towards him, and he sets a hand on Harry's shoulder, gently: he's become more friendly in the past few weeks, over the course of Harry's unsuccessful Patronus lessons, and Harry an tell he's upset.

People keep asking him questions about how he knew, but all Harry can think about is the horrified, choked scream Ron Weasley had made as Pettigrew had tried to scramble away on the floor, and the cry Pettigrew had let out when Snape had stunned him.

"They're here," McGonagall says, and Harry looks up at the two Aurors who enter the room, followed by a man in an ugly bowler hat. Minister Fudge himself.

"Now, now," Fudge says, nervously glancing from Pettigrew to Harry. "What have we here?"

"Minister Fudge," Harry says cleanly, before any of the teachers can speak, "Do you know what arm Death Eaters carry their Dark Mark on?" Fludge flusters, shifting on his feet, and the two Aurors either side of him roll their eyes. Harry recognizes the younger one as Nymphadora Tonks, Andromeda's daughter, but the other, a tall, black man, is unfamiliar to him.

"The left, I believe, Mr Potter."

"Right," Harry says, and he makes his way forwards, towards Pettigrew's form on the floor. He grabs at the sleeve of the man's shabby robes and pulls up so hard that the fabric rips: faded and barely distinguishable is a dark tattoo. Harry stares down at it, stares down at Pettigrew in utter disgust, and then he slowly meets Fudge's gaze. "Is it or is it not the case, Minister Fudge, that Sirius Black was sent to Azkaban without trial?" He speaks very quietly, deliberately. Lupin shudders, staring at Harry with something like horror in his eyes.

"I- Well, Mr Potter," Fudge says, gesturing for Tonks and the other Auror to make their way forwards, towards Pettigrew. He hears the Auror casting spells, presumably to stop Pettigrew from transforming, and then they haul him up, tying him soundly with an Incarcerous. "That was Minister Bagnold-"

"I don't actually care, Minister Fudge," Harry says coldly. "Blaming it on another politician won't help my opinion of you." Fudge stares at him, horrified, and Harry wonders stupidly for a moment if he has the influence to get rid of him. He doesn't - he's not stupid, he just sends a few letters now and then, and he's only a kid. But one day, maybe, he'll have the right political capital to drop Fudge out of the Ministry and onto his fat behind.

"Mr Potter," Dumbledore says quietly, but when he tries to put his hand on Harry's shoulder Harry shrugs it abruptly off, shooting Dumbledore a nasty look before turning to the Aurors.

"Thanks for coming quickly," he says, honestly, ignoring Fudge. "What happens now?"

"We question him," the one Auror says in a slow, measured voice. "We take any and all statements. He'll then be sentenced." Harry stares at Pettigrew's Stunned form, and then he looks away, not saying anything more. The Auror, whose name is apparently Kingsley Shacklebolt, takes Pettigrew back with Fudge to the Ministry, and it's Tonks that stays to take their statements.

"How did you know Mr Pettigrew was an Animagus?"

"I'd seen Ron Weasley hold Scabbers - he was very old, for a rat, and apparently he just turned up in their garden twelve or so years ago. That wasn't that suspicious, but then I noticed that he was missing one of his fingers, and when I saw Professor McGonagall transform one day in class, it made a suspicion click in my head. Thus why I went immediately to my head of house, Professor Snape. I trusted him to take me seriously and, of course, deal with the situation with any necessary severity."

---

"You're an idiot and a liar, Potter," Snape says sharply as they walk down to the Slytherin common room. He looks ready to kill a man, but Harry refuses to be intimidated. "How did you know he was an Animagus?"

"Didn't you hear me when I explained to Auror Tonks, Professor?" Snape whirls on him, and Harry stares up at him defiantly as Snape glowers down at him. "Sorry for being manipulative, sir."

"Detention with me for three weeks." Snape growls, and Harry thinks he expects Harry to flinch, but Harry doesn't.

"Yes, sir," Harry says quietly. They start to walk again, and Harry asks, "Do you think he'll get the Kiss? Pettigrew?" Snape glances at him, perplexity mixing in with his anger and his irritation, and Harry says, "He deserves it. He betrayed my dad, my mum. He had as much hand in their deaths as Voldemort did." For a fair while, Snape doesn't reply: they walk through the corridors and down into the dungeons, Harry's boots making quiet noise on the stone floors, and Snape's making none at all.

Finally, they come to the split in the hall where right leads to the common room and left to the Potions classroom, and Snape says, with an air of finality, "He'll get the Kiss, Potter." Harry's never heard Snape try and be even the slightest bit comforting to anyone, but he's grateful for it.

"Thank you, sir," Harry murmurs, and Snape turns on his heel towards the dungeons.

---

SIRIUS BLACK PARDONED

Harry doesn't look back as soon as he gets his copy of the Prophet that morning - he runs so fast down to the Whomping Willow he skids once he gets into the passageway, and he grins as he rushes up the steps into the Shrieking Shack to find-

Sirius is gone.

Harry calls his name, but he doesn't appear to be in the Shrieking Shack at all, and nor is he inside the tent - he hadn't even left a note.

Harry moves slowly back towards the castle, running his hand through his hair and clutching his copy of the Prophet mutely in his hands as he joins the group of students assembled in the entrance hall. McGonagall holds a list of students in her hands, and she scans the students before her.

"Hey," Hermione murmurs, passing Harry his bag, and he takes it, dropping it over his shoulder. "What's wrong?"

"Sirius isn't in the Shack," Harry answers quietly, shoving his paper into his bag, and Hermione turns her head to stare at him, concern obvious on her face.

"Where is he?" Harry shrugs, setting his jaw, and they move down the path with the other students towards the Hogwarts gate. Despite Harry's worry about Sirius, he embraces exploring town with Hermione, and he has a decent enough time searching through Honeydukes. Harry picks out a box of sugar quills extra, and when they enter the Three Broomsticks for a butterbeer, he sees Ron sat alone at a table, waiting for Seamus and Dean.

Harry heads over, and he pulls the box out of his bag, holding it out for Ron to take. Ron stares at it, uncomprehending, and then he meets Harry's gaze. "What do you want, Potter?"

"I wanted to apologize," Harry says, "For how I pointed Pettigrew out. I was gonna try and get Snape to just come get him from your common room, but I couldn't let him stay there. He could have done anything." Ron is paler than usual, his freckles standing out obviously on his skin, and Harry can see the bags under his eyes from lack of sleep. "You okay?" He looks for a moment like he's ready to tell Harry to just piss off, but he doesn't.

"Could be better, to be honest," he admits, and he takes the box of sugar quills. "Cheers."

"No problem," Harry says, and he gives Ron a small smile before he heads back to Hermione, taking his mug from her. They settle together for a little while, drinking together, but despite the strange and novel taste of the butterbeer, which bubbles on his tongue, Harry is distracted. Where had Sirius gone? Is he alright?

Harry frowns as he steps slowly out of the Three Broomsticks, waiting for Harry to catch him up.

"Oi!" comes a loud, sharp call. "Potter!" Harry looks up, and then he sees him. Sirius is dressed in tight, black jeans that come high on his waist, their fabric ripped and distressed in places, coupled with a bright pink, floral shirt, and over top of all of this is a red leather jacket. Harry starts to laugh, and Sirius grins at him, offering him finger guns that go well with his utter mess of a dated outfit.

"What are you wearing?" Harry demands, running forwards.

"Had to look sexy for Rosmerta, didn't I?" Sirius answers, "I've waited twelve years to flirt with that woman again!" Harry grins, throwing himself forwards, and Sirius hugs him tightly, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. There are people staring at them, Harry knows, but he ignores every single one of them, gesturing for Sirius to come back towards the Three Broomsticks with him. "Hallo, Hermione."

"God, what are you wearing?" Hermione asks, staring at Sirius in horror, and he seems to take this as a compliment.

"This was the height of fashion when I went to prison."

"It really wasn't," Hermione disagrees, and Harry lets Sirius pull him against his side and ruffle his hair. "Where've you been?"

"I headed to the Ministry as soon as the pardon came through at about four this morning," Sirius explains, patting Harry's shoulder before letting him go. "Went to the bank, got out some cash, went back to my old flat, got out some clothes... Oh, and best of all!" Sirius pulls his wand out of his pocket, and he reaches forwards, conjuring a flower that settles brightly behind Hermione's ear.

Harry laughs, liking the way Hermione smiles at the sudden burst of colour. "What are you going to do now?" Harry asks quietly.

"Do you know, Harry," Sirius says, "I have absolutely no idea." He breathes in the cool hair, putting his hands on his hips. "It's quite liberating."

"Sirius!" comes a call from behind them, and Harry turns to see Remus Lupin standing in the middle of the street, staring at Sirius with his lips parted, his eyes wide. "Merlin's beard, you're not wearing that."

"As I was explaining, Moony, to my dear godson and his friend," Sirius says, tossing his hair in a dramatic fashion, "I have to look attractive for Rosmerta." Remus laughs, and when he laughs this time he looks so much younger, so much healthier, as he looks at Sirius, and they step together, embracing tightly. Remus whispers something into Sirius' ear, but Sirius just murmurs something back, patting the side of Remus' cheek, and they draw apart.

"We're going to head back up to the castle, Sirius," Harry answers, and Sirius gives him a thumbs up, letting him and Hermione walk away. Harry glances back as Sirius and Remus go into the Three Broomsticks, their arms around each other's shoulders, and he wonders what Sirius must feel like, being free, all of a sudden. It's all happened so fast - all of a sudden, Sirius is free, and Harry has a godfather, a real godfather...

It's amazing, he thinks. Utterly amazing.

"Potter!" calls Ron Weasley urgently from up the hill, staring down at Harry with horror painted on his freckled features. "Look out!" Harry glances around, perplexed, and then he sees it: coming right towards him at fifty miles an hour are two rogue bludgers, and Harry throws himself to the side to avoid their path. They whistle through the air, but Harry can tell by the way they turn back that they're focused on him.

"Hermione! Get out of the way!" Harry runs off the path and onto the side of the hill, away from the village, and the bludgers both swing around in the air, focused on him. He curses as one of them flings itself an inch from his head, and he yells, "Arresto momentum!" One of the bludgers abruptly slows itself down, but the other one clips Harry hard in the shoulder, and he feels the sharp shift as the blade is pulled out of place. He cries out, trying to keep his other wand hand steady, and this time he tries an explosion charm, but he misses the bludger twice as it swings one way and then the other in the air.

Harry scrambles back, but he twists his ankle on an outcrop of stone with a quiet crack and drops hard down the side of the hill, rolling on his injured shoulder and sending agony screaming through his back and his right leg. He hears someone else yell out a Reducto, and then running towards him comes, of all possible saviours, Percy Weasley. "Potter? Are you alright?"

"Not really," Harry retorts, pressing his face into the cool, dewy wetness of the grass beneath him. "Think I dislocated my shoulder." Percy kneels down beside him, grasping him carefully at his hips and lifting Harry bridal style off the grass, shifting him so that his weight is against Percy's chest and there's no pressure on his injured shoulder. "You're quite strong." Harry hears the words come out of his mouth, but he doesn't recall giving his tongue permission to say them, and Percy lets out a short, wry laugh.

"A point to Slytherin for stating the obvious," Percy says, and Harry laughs, keeping his injured arm on his belly. The twinge he'd felt the summer before last comes back to him, and he breathes in, trying to ignore the way Percy Weasley smells (like parchment and pine needles and ink): closing his eyes, Harry lets Percy carry him into the village. "Why is it always you, Potter?"

"You tell me, Perfect Percy," Harry mutters, "You tell me."