The Potter and the Kettle Black

Chapter 6

It had been nearly three weeks since Professor Lupin had first visited Harry, and still the two of them hadn't seen neither hide nor hair of Sirius Black. They had sent him owls via Hedwig, but though the owl never returned without the letters, she never brought a response either. Sirius seemed to be taking his promise to keep his friends out of this a little too seriously, much to Harry's frustration. He and Lupin had discussed going before Dumbledore with the whole matter, but ultimately caution had overruled, and they had decided this approach would be best made later in the school year, when they could take Scabbers and confront Dumbledore with the evidence.

Harry was getting used to life at The Three Broomsticks. Most of the locals recognized him by now, and he wasn't gawked at anymore. Hagrid came up fairly regularly from the school, and Professor Lupin had made time to visit several times. Harry enjoyed his time with the older wizard a great deal. Properly prodded, Lupin was full of stories about Harry's parents and their other friends, and now that both of them could stand to hear stories featuring Sirius Black without misgivings the repertoire of reminiscences was far broader. Neither of them liked to talk very often about Peter Pettigrew, of course, but fortunately the latter had never featured very prominently in the Marauders' more ambitious capers.

Harry was beginning to see just why McGonagall seemed to view his antics with particular suspicion; apparently her experience with his father had taught her to expect that Potters had a healthy disdain for playing quite by the rules. And he was enjoying Lupin's company for his own sake. He was an engaging conversationalist, clever, amusing and thoughtful. He never talked down to Harry, yet Harry often came away from their conversations feeling as though he had learnt a good deal more about the wizarding world than he had managed in two years at Hogwarts. Lupin had traveled widely, and occasionally shared anecdotes about penetrating the depths of the Amazon rainforests, and learning tricks from the fakirs of India. In their own way Lupin's stories were just as fantastic as the tales of Lockhart's exploits (Harry would never forget his own role in the reenactments of the Wagga Wagga Werewolf), but they were told so matter-of-factly, and Lupin tried too hard to keep himself from featuring too prominently in them, that Harry, and Madam Rosmerta's other regulars, couldn't help believing him. Harry had never considered himself particularly academically minded, but for once he could understand why even people like Hermione, who had pleasant homes and families, might look forward to the school year.

Yet as much as Harry enjoyed Lupin's company, he still found himself missing his school friends. He couldn't wait to see Ron and Hermione, of course, but he found it a strange experience being in the wizarding world and not seeing familiar faces like Dean, or Neville, or even some of the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs like Terry Boot and Ernie MacMillan. Hogsmeade was the only fully wizarding settlement in Britain, yet Harry wasn't sure how long it would survive that way given that it didn't seem to have any children of Hogwarts age to speak of.

Though he knew he would be seeing them soon, Harry found himself writing long letters to Ron and Hermione. He was brimming with news, and apart from Lupin, there was no one he could confide in. There was much, of course, that he had to conceal, since he certainly could not tell them about what he had learnt about Sirius Black and Peter Pettigrew until he saw them in person, and even then until they could be sure of their privacy. Nevertheless, he found himself writing about Professor Lupin, and some of what he had learnt about his parents.

The day before he was supposed to return to return to Hogwarts, Harry found himself taking the floo to the Leaky Cauldron to do his shopping in Diagon Alley. Harry had been a little surprised to find that he wouldn't get what he needed for school in the Hogsmeade shops, but since there were so few children here, it wasn't particularly strange. Harry was beginning to see why he had found all his classmates, even those from the North who lived much closer to Hogwarts were still to be found on the Hogwarts Express.

Harry knew that there had been some controversy about his safety in visiting London alone, but Hagrid told him that Dumbledore had finally decided that he would be allowed to floo to London by himself, and the Weasleys would be meeting him there. As much as Harry enjoyed his modicum of independence, he had hoped at the back of his mind that Lupin would have wanted to accompany him, but apparently Lupin was busy, and Harry didn't expect to see him now until he was back at Hogwarts. He bid a regretful goodbye to Madam Rosmerta and a few of the regulars at The Three Broomsticks, knowing that without a signed permission slip his chances of being able to come out for Hogsmeade weekends to see his new friends were slim.

He took a pinch of floo powder, steeling himself for the unpleasant sensation, making sure this time to enunciate clearly so that he ended up at The Leaky Cauldron. Ron and his family didn't seem to have arrived quite yet, and after all the precautions taken on his behalf, Harry didn't think Dumbledore would approve of him wandering the Alley by himself, however little he may have thought himself to be at risk. He nodded at Tom, the innkeeper, ordering a cup of tea and settled down, picking up a copy of The Daily Prophet that someone had left on the bar counter. He had barely taken a sip from his steaming cup when he took a closer look at the headline, snorting as his tea went up his nostrils. The front page bore a picture of a plump, balding man with a peculiar shifty look in his eyes. The accompanying headline screamed:

BLACK VICTIM ALIVE: PETER PETTIGREW TELLS ALL.

As the wizarding world lives in fear of another rampage by the escaped prisoner Sirius Black, it turns out that at least one of his victims had a miraculous escape twelve years ago. Order of Merlin honoree Peter Pettigrew, the wizard whom Black was targeting when he caused the explosion of a street full of Muggles, apparently managed to survive the brutal attack. Pettigrew was found in Cairo yesterday, when he appeared at the Magical British Consulate carrying a newspaper with a photograph of Black.

Apparently, Pettigrew has suffered from amnesia since the attack, and his memory was triggered when he saw Black's photograph in a British newspaper he managed to find in Cairo. "This is a man who has suffered deeply," said a Ministry spokesman, "Pettigrew has lived among Muggles in a foreign country for twelve years. His memory is still hazy, and we may never completely understand everything he has endured."

The details of how Pettigrew survived, and how he ended up in Egypt with amnesia is still unknown. Sources at St. Mungo's said that it is possible for someone in Pettigrew's position to have disapparated reflexively to escape the attack, without knowing his exact destination. "Pettigrew is lucky he didn't find himself splinched across three countries," said Assistant Healer Augustus Pye. Pye also said that while Pettigrew's memory loss might have been caused by the trauma of the incident, it is possible that he may have been obliviated by Black himself.

Pettigrew has been offered all possible support by the Ministry of Magic, and it is expected that he will return to Britain shortly. "The Ministry will do everything it can to secure Mr. Pettigrew's safety," promised Minister Fudge, "We ask the wizarding world to take comfort in Mr. Pettigrew's return. We are confident that armed with the insights of this man who knew Black so closely, we will have no problem in apprehending this dangerous criminal before long."

Harry blanched, unable to believe what he was reading. He stumbled up, determined to find Lupin, and figure out what to do about Sirius. Before he took two steps, he was intercepted by Ron, who grabbed him and shook his hand vigorously.

"Finally! I thought we'd never get everyone ready to leave. It's good to see you, mate!"

But Harry could hardly focus on his friend properly.

"Where's Scabbers, Ron? D'you have him with you?"

Ron's face fell.

"No, mate! I think he ran away. I couldn't find him anywhere when we were getting ready to leave Egypt. Poor fellow must be dead by now; he was in really bad shape towards the end."