Paper Wings

Number Nine and the Queen of Hearts

Grateful to find that he had landed upright, Remus surveyed the room in which they'd arrived. He was standing in the pit at the centre of a large stone amphitheatre, surrounded by rows of empty seats glaring down at him.

As Dumbledore led Peter outside, Remus recalled, all too vividly, the last time he had been in this very spot, escorted from the Registry by a small fleet of Aurors, listening to the murmur of angry voices, to Whirling's desperate protests when the frustrated inquisitor had insisted that nothing short of a healthy dose of Veritaserum would convince her of his innocence. She wanted to know about his loyalties, his activities, his friends, but the grief had been so raw that he could hardly choke out the words.

He had wished, in those final moments before the colourless liquid wiped his mind free of all wishes, that he had worked for Voldemort, that he did have a damning secret to confess. Then --

Remus shook his head. This was different. This time, he was here to free Sirius. Remus scanned the rising tiers of dark stone seats. The members of the Wizengamot had not yet arrived, and he could hear a distant drip of water echoing through the empty space.

One other person was in the room, a young man at the far end of the front row, organising piles of papers all around him.

"Pardon," Remus said, pausing on the second step.

The man looked up with blue eyes whose whites seemed disproportionately large against a nose that was far too small, giving him the look of a wide-eyed frog. A pale, jagged scar ran diagonally from temple to cheek, just skirting his right eye. He smiled at Remus with friendly recognition.

"Lupin!" he exclaimed.

"Gudgeon?" Remus asked, surprised. "I didn't know you were working for the Ministry." He had known Davey Gudgeon while at Hogwarts. A year younger, Davey's was a face he wouldn't soon forget.

"Head scribe. Promoted last week." He boasted good-naturedly.

"Congratulations. How is your sister? And Renee?"

"Gladys is doing well, thanks. Renee and I are married now, going on five months." He beamed and waved his left hand to show off a plain gold band. "And you? How are your... er. Or your...?"

Remus half smiled. "My mother's well," he said, then quickly added, "Where should I sit?"

"Well," Gudgeon began, visibly relieved. "The Minister is there, in the middle. The other members sit in the centre section of the next five rows. The Minister has invited press," he said disdainfully. "They'll be up above, in the back. Accused sits down there, clearly," he pointed at the wooden chair in the centre of the floor. The iron manacles fastened to its arms clicked menacingly. "And the interrogators and witnesses usually stand on the floor. You can take a place anywhere else."

"Thank you." Remus began to climb the stairs once more. His feet suddenly felt weighted down with lead.

"So, is it true?" Davey whispered as he passed. "I couldn't believe it when I read the summons this morning, and -- whew -- did you really find Pettigrew?"

Remus nodded.

"And you reckon that he was... not Black?"

"So it seems."

Davey whistled long and low. "Minister's not pleased about that. Thought I saw smoke comin' out of her ears earlier. Should've heard the howlers from Wizengamot members who didn't appreciate bein' called in." He rolled his eyes.

"They don't have to like it, I suppose, just to do what's right."

Davey whistled again. "You are something else, Lupin. Always were, though, as I remember." He smiled. "Should've heard Crouch ranting about Dumbledore and everyone else involved when the Minister told him. Determined to send you all off to Azkaban, Crouch is."

"The Minister's a fair woman," Remus said, willing it to be true.

"I dunno. I mean, she is. Leastways, it's something she prides herself on. But Crouch? He's pretty ruthless. Apple don't fall far from the tree, they say, an' his apple was as sour as it gets. Him and the Minister, those two were thick as thieves this morning. I saw them when I was fetching Dumbledore's papers. Blimey, the man wanted a lot of old parchment for evidence." Davey waved to the piles around his desk. "Don't see how it's going to help. Don't see how anything's gonna help, really. Good luck, though, mate." He smiled brightly and shook Remus' hand.

The first plum-robed member of the Wizengamot entered through a door in the side of the room. He was frowning and shaking his head as he made his way to his place.

"Well, you'd better take a seat," Gudgeon said. "The rest of 'em will be here soon. It'll all work out. You'll see."

Remus sat behind Davey Gudgeon, where he would have a fairly unobstructed view of Minister and members of the Wizengamot. Soon more witches and wizards filed in; those in plum robes, without exception, wore irate looks at being asked in on a Saturday. Several of the witches' hair flew in all directions from under their tall purple hats. One of the wizards had crookedly affixed the large, silver 'W' to his shoulder, and another seemed to be nodding off in a corner. The rest sat and talked quietly amongst themselves.

In addition to the Wizengamot, more and more wizards drifted in. Apparently the Minister wanted this to be a very public display and had invited reporters from periodicals as disparate as the Quibbler and Witch Weekly in addition to the standard Prophet and Warlocks' Daily. As the number of wizards increased, so did the noise. Albus Dumbledore stepped onto the edge of the floor and quietly watched the courtroom fill. Finally Minister Bagnold entered, austere in long plum robes, her long hair still shot with brown despite her years, and her gracefully ageing face set in a frown. She made her way to the centre of the front row.

"Order!" she yelled ineffectively in the courtroom din. She touched her wand to her throat and said, "Sonorus!"

Moments later, a godlike call for silence echoed through the stone-walled room. The crowd quickly quieted and turned to look at the Minister of Magic.

"Thank you," she boomed, then added, "Quietus," and cleared her throat several times. Her normally bombastic speaking voice sounded muffled compared to the magically enhanced call moments before, but the audience listened closely. "Welcome, all, to today's proceedings. I thank you for coming on such short notice." The Minister looked pointedly at Dumbledore as she said this, and several of the court members nodded in agreement, proud of their own sense of civic duty.

"Let us commence this criminal hearing on the twentieth of March. We have come here today, esteemed members of the Wizengamot, Ministry scribes, press witches and wizards, to hear the case against Mr. Peter Pettigrew, charged with High Treason Against Friend and Country, the Casting of an Illegal Annihilation Curse on the first of November 1981, responsible for the deaths of twelve Muggles, and Conspiracy to Frame an Innocent. We shall also determine once and for all, before everyone in this courtroom today, the guilt of You-Know-Who's right-hand man, Sirius Black."

There was a collective hiss from the audience at the mention of his name.

Remus pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose and groaned silently.

The Minister motioned to the guards at the door, and Peter shuffled in, followed closely by several Aurors and a scowling Bartemius Crouch. Peter sat tentatively on the wooden chair as the Aurors indicated, but seemed to relax when the chains lay still on the arms and the guards backed away.

"Representing the man before you is Bartemius Crouch, of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Interrogating today is Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore. The hearing for Peter Pettigrew will now commence." Minister Bagnold looked directly at Peter. "You are Peter Pettigrew, Former Magical Cartographer for the Department of Locational Records, and resident of your mother's house in Oxford; are you not?"

"I must protest!" called a stern voice from the floor.

"You can't--" began Davey Gudgeon from below Remus.

The Minister silenced Gudgeon with a glare and smiled beatifically down at Crouch. "Yes, Barty, what is your objection?"

"Our records show that Peter Pettigrew is dead. Rule 48D subsection A of the Rules of Order state that you cannot try a dead man excepting in cases of Wilful Spiritual Harassment; the case that my esteemed colleague Mr. Dumbledore has brought before you today is, therefore, wholly unlawful."

Many of the witches and wizards in the audience nodded sagely, and Remus heard whispers: "Subsection A... Clearly a mistake... Surprised Dumbledore forgot... Doing anything for brunch?"

"Well, Dumbledore, what have you to say to that?" asked the Minister.

Dumbledore regarded her over his spectacles from the opposite side of the floor as Mr. Crouch. "May I suggest that our first order of business is then to determine both the status of being and identity of the man sitting before you?"

Minister Bagnold sighed dramatically and nodded. "Very well."

Remus watched as Crouch introduced a string of witnesses, including the Minister herself, who had attended Peter's funeral and testified that, as no sensible person would attend the funeral of a wizard who was alive, and the Minister was surely a sensible person, Peter Pettigrew must be dead.

Dumbledore proceeded to call his own witnesses: first a healer from St. Mungo's who declared, after much poking and prodding, that the man standing before the court was, indeed, alive. Then, in a moment that, as the Quibbler reporter so elegantly stated, "would live in the collective memories of all who attended until the day that the last Snorkack crowed," Dumbledore escorted a small, stooped woman into the courtroom. Mrs. Pettigrew ran to the wooden chair and embraced her grimacing son, sobbing hysterically and declaring it a miracle that her 'Petey' had come back to her.

This seemed to finally convince most of the Wizengamot that Peter was, in fact, alive and standing in front of them, as a general consensus was reached that a mother was the most likely person to recognise her own son. Remus thought it was lucky that none of them had spoken to this particular mother personally.

"If Peter Pettigrew really is before us," began Minister Bagnold, after the clamour had died, "I am quite curious to know how he escaped the disaster of Lingonberry Lane, and how he has managed to stay hidden all these months." She quirked an eyebrow at Dumbledore.

"It will all be explained in time," he said. The room was silent.

The hearing finally began.

"Albus Dumbledore, appearing on behalf of Sirius Black, whom the Head of Law Enforcement has deemed unsafe for a public setting, may now call his first real witness," announced Davey Gudgeon on behalf of Minister Bagnold.

The Minister looked at Dumbledore expectantly, with an unusual spark in her eyes, like a fighter thrilled to have found a worthy adversary and eager to see what he would do next.

"Thank you, Minister." Dumbledore nodded and opened the courtroom door. In limped a glowering Alastor Moody, scraping his wooden leg loudly over the stone floor. Moody sat in the armchair that Dumbledore conjured for him, scanning the seats with his roving blue eye. Remus had the uncomfortable feeling that the eye lingered on his
own face for far too long.

"Auror Moody," Dumbledore began placidly, interrupting Moody's glare, "were you present at the crossroads of Douglass Avenue and Lingonberry Lane, Oxford on the first of November 1981?"

"Aye," Moody replied gruffly. Coat collar pulled up, shoulders hunched, face scarred, he looked every bit a weathered gargoyle, Auror of bygone days.

"Why?"

"Report of an illegal Annihilation Curse that destroyed half a Muggle street, and all the people within a twenty foot radius of the blast."

"According to your report, how many people were killed that night?"

"According my report, twelve," Moody mumbled.

"I'm sorry, how many?"

"Twelve Muggles."

There was a murmur throughout the courtroom. Remus chanced a look at the Minister, whose brow was furrowed as she watched Moody intently.

"You did not believe that Pettigrew was dead?" Dumbledore asked.

"That's what I was told later, but I was not convinced of it at the time. Twelve bodies were strewn around, fairly whole, but we couldn't find anything of Peter Pettigrew except his robes and finger. Clearly that was because," Moody pointed at Peter, "he was still alive."

"Did you take any action to further the investigation?"

"I did. After we found the finger, I sent a team of Ministry dementors in search of the missing body."

There was a collective intake of breath from the audience.

"Why?" Dumbledore kept his questions short, and Moody seemed to know exactly what he was about to ask. As Remus watched, he felt that the entire testimony was a complicated verbal dance flawlessly executed by two old masters.

"Never accept the obvious," Moody stated simply. "That is the first rule of investigation. We found a finger, robes, and nothing else of Pettigrew. I sent the dementors to find the else." Moody smiled, an expression that contorted the scars zigzagging across his face. "Turns out I was right in the end."

"And these dementors, did they ever report back to you?"

"No," Moody huffed. "Bloody unreliable creatures, though they make better trackers than any I've ever seen. They follow the fear; scent is unreliable."

Dumbledore nodded, satisfied, and Remus noted that the Minister had lifted her quill to write.

After the brief pause, Dumbledore questioned Moody once again. "And according to your report, who was responsible for the incident?"

"Persons unknown," Moody paused for a moment, thinking. "Later, it was changed to Sirius Black."

There was a rippling of nods from the rings of seats, and Remus saw several members of the Wizengamot lay down their quills.

"Based on what evidence?" Dumbledore prodded.

"Based on he was the only one at the scene capable of casting an Annihilation Curse. He was unstable, unhinged. He laughed when the Aurors brought him in."

"And laugher was evidence enough to convict him?"

"He seemed guilty. People were afraid. And there was no one else to convict."

"But you had reservations."

"Eyewitnesses had seen him arguing with another man shortly before the blast, another wizard equally capable of casting the curse, another suspect. We had the finger but no body, and the dementors never returned."

"Without the dementors, you had no evidence, no suspect. You had to assume that a lone finger was proof of death," Dumbledore concluded. "Logical."

Moody nodded. "Aye, as the primary target of an Annihilation Curse, we shouldn't have found even a finger. I reported twelve deaths while the thirteenth was in question. But without the missing wizard, Black was the only suspect."

"You made no mention of your suspicions to anyone?" Dumbledore asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Black was already imprisoned for other crimes. Muggles, whose memories have since been modified, said they heard Pettigrew yell just before the explosion, 'Lily and James, Sirius, how could you?' So Black was charged with Treason and Sedition as You-Know-Who's spy. He was going to Azkaban regardless of who cast the Curse."

"And now that the other suspect has been found, might it be possible to determine the originator of the curse?"

"Aye, that would be the thing to do," said Moody solemnly, his round, blue eye daring the audience to contradict him.

There was a stunned silence in the courtroom. Remus felt his chest loosen just a little.

Dumbledore escorted Moody from the room, smiling slightly, and brought in a man wearing orange, pinstriped robes. The man smiled brilliantly at the Minister as he sat straight-backed on the edge of the chair. The Minister regarded him with a hint of concern.

"Mr. Cornelius Fudge," began Dumbledore.

"Yes?"

"You are Junior Minister of the Department of Magical Catastrophes, are you not?"

"I am." He sat up even straighter and lifted his chin importantly.

"And for the catastrophe in question, you were the first to arrive at the scene, were you not?"

"I was."

"And your team of Hit Wizards found Black blown across the street from the impact zone and Pettigrew's remains?"

"We did."

"As an expert on Magical Catastrophes, perhaps you could help me," Dumbledore said guilelessly. Fudge preened. "Do Annihilation Curses frequently scatter the parts of their targets?"

"No," Fudge answered promptly. "They cause peripheral damage by means of a secondary shockwave, but annihilate whatever they touch, like the street."

"So, in order for Mr. Pettigrew to be sitting beside you, he could not have been the target of an Annihilation Curse."

"I suppose not," Fudge admitted, looking crestfallen. "But one was definitely cast, and Black's wand was smoking! I remember that. He must have cast a powerful spell just before we got there," he finished triumphantly.

"So he cast a powerful curse at a man standing directly in front of him... and missed?" Dumbledore raised an eyebrow.

"He's a madman. That much is beyond debate," Fudge replied haughtily.

There was curious mumbling among the court, and the Minister was slowly rubbing her hands together. Remus looked at her more closely, expecting to see fury in her slightly sagging features. Her mouth was set in a frown of concentration rather than anger, and her eyes seemed to be looking far away, past the courtroom walls as she listened.

"Perhaps," mused Dumbledore, asking his question of the air rather than the witness, "Black's wand was smoking after conjuring a shield against the Annihilation Aftershock -- the same shock that sent him flying across the street?"

Remus allowed himself a quick smile.

Fudge stammered several times, opening and closing his mouth wordlessly as Dumbledore turned slowly and Crouch ran onto the floor.

"Stop! I demand you stop at once!" Crouch yelled, rousing the Minister from her reverie. Now she appeared angry, indeed. "Dumbledore is confusing the witness. I demand the right to question him too," he announced, his voice unnaturally high.

"By all means, Barty," the Minister said between clenched teeth. The courtroom was utterly silent.

Crouch took several deep, calming breaths. "Black was uninjured by the curse?" he began brusquely.

"Correct."

"And, as Dumbledore has so kindly pointed out, it would require a very powerful shield to protect him?"

"Correct."

"He would need time to conjure such a shield, would he not?"

"A young wizard like that? Minutes, even."

"Does the court believe that Mr. Pettigrew, if he was the one who cast the curse, would give Black minutes to mount a defence?"

Fudge laughed derisively. "That would be pointless."

Beside him, Peter nodded emphatically.

"Precisely. Now that we have sorted out that bit of misdirection, why, in your expert opinion, would Black be unharmed?"

"Because," said Fudge, his voice rising in volume as he cottoned on, "the curse doesn't harm the wizard who casts it!"

"Precisely. And was Pettigrew harmed?" Crouch asked, holding Peter's four-fingered hand for the audience to see.

"I'd say he was."

"And as for Black flying across the street, is there not a very common spell effect that could be responsible?"

Fudge looked blank.

"An effect that is more pronounced the more powerful the curse?"

Fudge frowned in concentration.

"Re-"

"Coil! Spell recoil, of course. Spell recoil threw Black across the street after he cursed Pettigrew."

"Precisely," said Crouch. "That will be all."

Remus' heart sank. The Minister looked triumphant once again and flashed Crouch an enthusiastic smile before continuing.

"Any more witnesses, Albus?" she asked scornfully. "Perhaps one who will actually advance your cause, who will explain to us how and why Pettigrew could possibly be guilty of these crimes."

"Certainly," Dumbledore replied placidly. "But the why is simple. Guilty of the betrayal of Lily and James Potter, he framed his friend and fled. For the how, I call on the man who found him. Remus J. Lupin," Dumbledore announced to the flabbergasted crowd.

Dumbledore summoned Remus to stand and come down to the floor.

Remus looked at the tiers of wizards whose eyes were focused on him, and his voice seemed to fall into some hidden cavity of his chest. He took a deep breath and unclamped his jaw. "I knew Peter in school," Remus began in a low, neutral tone, "and I suspected that he might have survived the Annihilation Curse and gone into hiding."

"How," began Dumbledore softly, "did you think he had managed to survive, when everyone else, even esteemed members of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, had given up the search?"

"I was the only one who knew what to look for, you see. He cut off his finger and transformed. Peter is an Animagus, one who takes the form of a rat. He could very easily have... did, in fact--"

"Halt! Absurd tomfoolery! This will not be tolerated!" roared Crouch from down below. "It is too late to bring charges of illegal transforma-- Hang on. I know you," he said, narrowing his eyes at Remus. "Lupin," he said under his breath, "Remus Lupin..." Then he turned towards Bagnold. "Minister, this man is no man! He is a werewolf! Furthermore, he is a werewolf tried by this court for his alleged connections to the real criminal, Sirius Black. Not six months ago, he provided testimony that Black was the Potters' Secret Keeper. The deceitful mongrel is changing his story."

Remus could feel the blood drain from his face. He swallowed and clamped his jaw shut once more, bemoaning the sunlit moment in which he had thought they stood a chance. Gudgeon stared at him and edged away, his face aghast. Cameras began to click, flashbulbs to burst along the top rows of the courtroom. Remus longed for a rock to hide under, but stood numb, heart pounding, staring blankly ahead.

Crouch continued railing. "I smell foul play, false testimony, and lies meant to incriminate Peter Pettigrew. What has this government come to, when it accepts the word of a treacherous Dark Creature over that of an innocent man?" Crouch finished triumphantly, pointing a trembling finger at Remus. "If anyone deserves Azkaban, it is the werewolf and those with whom he plots."

Bagnold turned pointedly away from Remus. "Scribe," she said to Gudgeon, who took a moment to collect himself and wipe the disgust from his frog-like features. "You will strike that testimony from the record. However, Mr. Crouch," she looked sternly down at him, "there is only one hearing today, and we do not send witnesses to Azkaban -- at least not without filing the proper paperwork first. It may be found in my office and should not take more than a day; see me after we are through here." She paused, debating her next course of action. "But Dumbledore, I am surprised you thought that the lies of a murderous Dark Creature would further your cause."

Remus heard undisguised murmurs from the press: "Clearly losing his edge...No idea what he was thinking... Is that thing even allowed in the courtroom?"

Remus' hands shook as he returned to his seat.

Avoiding the hundred pairs of eyes glaring at him, he hoped and prayed to whatever power might be listening that he had not just ruined everything.

Dumbledore looked up at the Minister and blinked once. "Fascinating, don't you think, Minister, that his story is acceptable when it concurs with the Ministry's, and is a lie when it does not?" he remarked casually.

Bagnold seemed to struggle with herself for another minute. Then, her face set, she looked down at Dumbledore. "I don't know what you are playing at, Albus, but I warn you not to flaunt the dignity of these proceedings again. Is there anyone else you wish to call?"

Dumbledore frowned, looking suddenly weary, and he shook his head.

"Barty, you may call your first witness."

Crouch rose. "I call Peter Pettigrew."

There was a gasp followed by more murmuring from the crowd. Peter looked up from his hands, whites of his eyes bright in the courtroom dim.

"Mr. Pettigrew."

"Yes?"

"First, I would like to congratulate you on being alive."

"Th-thank you," Peter stammered.

"I'd like you to describe to the court, if you would, the events of the first morning of November."

Peter began his tale, feigning a stutter and smiling timidly up at the Minister. He seemed encouraged by her motherly encouragement and Crouch's assistance with the finer details of his story.

Remus couldn't listen to the trumped-up story any more. He concentrated on his breathing, on the nails digging into his palms, and not on the heat in his blood. He counted the bricks on the wall and tried not to see the sympathetic nods of the Wizengamot wizards to Peter's harrowing experiences.

He closed his eyes and opened them again. Sirius is innocent. He would free Sirius if it meant breaking down the doors of Azkaban fortress himself.

Finally, Peter was quiet, eyes cast down to the floor, oozing innocence from every pore.

"Well," said Minister Bagnold, sounding quite pleased with herself. "That concludes that. Mr. Pettigrew, I apologise for--"

"Pardon me, Minister," Dumbledore said, walking into the centre of the floor. "I respectfully request the right to question this witness as well."

"That is highly irregular and not altogether allowed by the Rules of Order, you know."

"I do know, having participated in their establishment and annual revisions for many years. However, I also know that the Minister granted this courtesy to Bartemius Crouch, as is her right, and I request only the same."

Minister Bagnold peered at him closely. "Very well," she said, surprisingly resigned, "though I doubt Pettigrew has anything much more interesting to say."

"Mr. Gudgeon, if you would please pass that first ream of parchment to the court," Dumbledore asked politely. Then he turned to the expectant audience. "These are the official ministry reports, highly classified information written after the events of the thirty-first of October. You will see in the reports that Black was charged not only for the Annihilation Curse, but for Treason Against Friend and Country, the murder of Peter Pettigrew, and of twelve Muggle bystanders. Mr. Pettigrew, you have already explained that you were the intended victim of the Disaster of Lingonberry Lane. Now, please tell the court, in your own words, your whereabouts the nights and days before."

The sheaf of papers was passed around, and Peter began to relate his version of the final nights of the Potters' lives. Remus sat on the edge of his seat. The court members were reading the papers that supported Peter's story on every page, papers signed by Dumbledore and the Minister asserting that Sirius had been the Potters' Secret-Keeper, papers that incriminated Sirius in black and white. They were listening to Peter's version of events, listening to more lies, and Dumbledore was encouraging it. Dumbledore trusted Sirius' life to the words of a traitor, a Ministry peon, and a werewolf; this did not bode well for Sirius. Remus wanted to trust the Headmaster, but did not understand how this could possibly work...

Peter was speaking faster and faster, stutter forgotten, buoyed by the sympathetic nods of the wizards around him and the eager scribbling of reporters. He was flying on the wings of his own fabrications. "...and I went to Number Nine Chestnut Lane in Godric's Hollow, and it was... it was... gone!" Peter finished with a flourish. "The traitor was there, and I fled. Black found me before I reached home, and I confronted him. We began to duel. I dodged the curse, and Black was blown across the street. That's when I saw a chance to escape, and the Magical Law Enforcement Squad arrived." He looked appropriately distressed, and put a hand to his face, shoulders shaking. Peter was nothing if not an actor.

Nine Chestnut Lane!

The Potters lived at number nine! Remus had forgotten. The house was in Godric's Hollow, but he'd forgotten the address. Dumbledore's eyes twinkled, but no one else seemed to notice a thing.

"Thank you," said Dumbledore serenely. "That will be all."

Remus understood. He could barely hold the smile off his face. Sirius would be free! He glanced over at the Minister, who seemed quietly relieved and ready to go home for tea.

Minister Bagnold announced that there would be no closing arguments, as the case was relatively straightforward and several members of the Wizengamot were so hungry she could hear their stomachs rumbling from where she sat.

Wait! Remus wanted to shout into the courtroom. No one understood. Dumbledore wasn't doing anything, just staring mutely at Court Scribe Gudgeon.

The sheaf of official reports was passed to the Minister who laid it in front of her and began drumming her fingers on top of it. Davey Gudgeon glanced back at Remus, an odd expression playing across his face, some even mix of revulsion and respect. Then he turned away. The Minister scanned the papers and began to rise.

"Excuse me?" said a small voice off to her left. "Minister, beggin' your pardon, but someone... someone should see this."

Bagnold shot Gudgeon an impatient look, and his jaw snapped shut.

"What is it, Gudgeon?" Dumbledore asked the scribe kindly. He looked at the parchment now on top of Davey's files and smiled. "If you will pardon my impertinence, Minister, I believe your scribe has uncovered something very interesting."

Davey Gudgeon looked positively terrified to have the direct attention of the court. He glanced quickly at Dumbledore, who nodded his head ever so slightly.

"It's the papers, you see, Minister, they've changed."

"What do you mean, they've changed?" she asked warily.

"I just... well I mean that they changed. It happened during Pettigrew's testimony. Before, they didn't say where the Potter's lived exactly, just an empty space, then 'Godric's Hollow'. The address, you see, Nine Chestnut Lane, wasn't written anywhere, and now it's on all these old papers. Now it says where they lived."

"Nine Chestnut Lane," Bagnold responded impatiently, "of course that's where they lived. Chestnut Lane, in Godric's Hollow, is where the Potters have always lived. Everyone knows that..." As she said the words, she paused, thinking, and glanced down at the official reports in front of her. Then she looked around in confusion.

"The location of the attack is listed as 'unknown'," she said slowly.

"I fail to see the purpose of all this," Crouch grumbled.

Bagnold waved his objection away with a distracted gesture. She looked toward Dumbledore curiously.

"If I may clarify?" Dumbledore asked. Several wizards nodded their heads, including the Minister.

"No one has known the precise location of the Potters' house for five months. It was hidden to protect them from Lord Voldemort--" at this the entire court collectively flinched, and Minister Bagnold looked disapprovingly at Dumbledore "--under a Fidelius Charm. Perhaps you were too busy sentencing people to Azkaban to recall the finer points, Mr. Crouch, from the last proceedings regarding this matter? The Potters' whereabouts were discovered by Voldemort only after their Secret-Keeper betrayed them. When he razed the house, the charm was only partially destroyed. To these documents, for instance, the address continued to be a mystery known only to the Secret-Keeper." Dumbledore paused as every person in the room held his breath. "The Secret-Keeper, once believed to have been Sirius Black, is now revealed by his own words to this entire courtroom. Minister Bagnold, the address was unknown at the time those later reports were written, and had disappeared on the earlier documents that Mr. Gudgeon has so kindly brought to our attention. You remember the address and see it written on early documents now, because Peter Pettigrew told you where it was. He told you today, just as he told his master five months ago. He arranged for the murder of the Potters and framed his best friend for his crimes. Peter Pettigrew is a servant of Lord Voldemort."

The room was silent.

"Five months ago, he betrayed his friends. Today, he has betrayed himself."

Dumbledore looked hard at Pettigrew, his eyes blazing with a cold fury that Remus had rarely seen. Peter cowered before him.

Minister Bagnold looked back at her papers and up at the stands around her. "Is this some kind of trick? Anyone? Does anyone know if such a thing is possible?"

Then the courtroom erupted with the voices of all present, a cacophony of sound bouncing off the walls and stone seats, waves of movement as people gestured at one another, debating this final piece of evidence. Remus watched it all.

Crouch was yelling at the Minister, all dignity and composure forgotten. She was speaking frantically with a group of advisors, a swarm of press wizards, and the angry, bow-tied Crouch, sounding more and more resigned to Dumbledore's truth. The members of the Wizengamot were arguing amongst themselves, voices raised to out-shout one another. Photographers were eagerly snapping pictures of the spectacle; their flashes of light left the odour of phosphor in the air. Davey Gudgeon was furiously documenting the events, four charmed quills busily scribbling on rolls of parchment in front of him. Dumbledore stood with his arms crossed in front of him, occasionally answering a question shot his way from the buzzing crowd around the Minister.

Peter sat in the centre of the chamber, momentarily forgotten.

There was a subtle shift in his nose, not much, but enough that Remus caught it from the corner of his eye. Simultaneously he heard a whisper of magic, soft but distinct in the din of the crowd.

Without pausing to think, Remus reacted. He would not give Peter the opportunity to escape again. His wand trilled as he grabbed it from his pocket.

Before the incantation left his lips, however, the two Aurors appeared at his sides and pinned his arms painfully behind him.

"Been watching you, werewolf," one hissed in his ear. "Thought you might try something."

Ignoring them, Remus frantically called to Dumbledore, "Professor, look!"

Peter smiled, and shifted smoothly into the form of a rat.

Robbed of their potential prisoner, the chains began to clang against the wooden arms of the chair. The rat darted away as people turned to look.

Chaos broke over the courtroom. Peter ran circles around innocent feet, drawing spellfire wherever he went. More than one unlucky bystander was Stunned, singed, or sprouted purple horns as the result of a stray hex. The Aurors abandoned Remus and dashed about the room, one attempting to restore order as the other summoned help over the Auror Sounding System. People pointed and shouted, yelled and jumped on chairs in fear of wayward rodents. Dumbledore stood quietly by the door. Remus ran for the Auror who was ringing the small bell he'd pulled from his pocket.

"Stop!" Remus shouted. "They'll let him out when they open the door!"

He was too late. The bell had spread its klaxon message to all the Aurors in the building, as well as the reserve unit outside.

The courtroom door opened with a bang.

Six pairs of dark, heavy boots marched into the room, and four tiny rat feet scurried out between them.

"HALT!" A deep and commanding voice thundered over the chaos. It reverberated over the heads of the crowd, stopped words mid-sentence, gestures mid-articulation, and jinxes mid-flight. A ringing silence filled the hall.

All eyes were on Albus Dumbeldore.

He'd spoken the moment he'd seen the rat. One hand was held out, palm toward the door. This hand he flicked once, and the brown, furry rodent flew into it.

"Minister," said Dumbledore quietly, "I believe this is yours."

***

Afterwards, Remus could never recall much from the next few hours: the blur of action, the words, proclaimed by a deflated Minister of magic, that Sirius Black would be released the following day, the dementors gliding into the courtroom and removing Peter, a cold, dead silence in their wake, Dumbledore resting a hand on his shoulder.

"You knew all along," Remus said, looking up at the bespectacled face and sombre eyes. "You knew you couldn't tell people the secret, because it was Peter's to share. You pretended to lose; you knew Peter wouldn't slip unless he thought he'd won. You told Davey to fetch all those old papers, the ones he thought were useless. You knew Crouch would recognise my name."

Dumbledore only looked at him and smiled sadly.

Remus turned to go, then glanced back.

"Do... do you think there's any way they'll let me go tomorrow?"

Dumbledore regarded him for a long moment. "I will see what I can do. Come back to Hogwarts tonight, Remus. It has been a long day, and you will have fewer miles to travel in the morning."

Remus nodded, and as Dumbledore set off to speak to the members of the court, he Apparated to the edge of the Forbidden Forest.