Chapter 1
Harry thought about his parents a lot. As a kid, he'd always wondered what they had been like. He'd tried desperately to extract information out of his aunt Petunia, but to no avail. His aunt was always oddly tight-lipped about them; the only piece of information she'd given him on his parents at all was that they'd died in a car crash.
And as he'd come to learn on his eleventh birthday, even that wasn't true. Upon his entry into the Wizarding World, Harry had made some shocking revelations - first, that he was famous for surviving death as a baby, and second, that his aunt Petunia wasn't his aunt at all. It was no wonder she couldn't tell him anything about his parents - because she hadn't known either of them.
James and Juniper Potter, as he had come to learn thanks to Hagrid, were wizards - true, magical and apparently powerful wizards. They'd both grown up in the Wizarding World and had no ties to Muggles (and especially Vernon and Petunia Dursley whatsoever). But when they had died unexpectedly at the hand of Lord Voldemort, leaving only one-year-old Harry behind (and a pile of gold in the Gringotts Wizarding bank), their ever loyal friend Lily Evans had entrusted his care to the Dursleys, to her own sister. And it was a good thing she had, because she'd died three short days later fighting against the same evil war that had plucked Harry's parents away from him.
When Harry first learned of all this, he'd felt guilty. He'd spent years thinking Lily Evans, Petunia's deceased sister, was his mother, while his real mother had laid down her life for him. Juniper Laine had protected him with her dying breath and he hadn't even known her name. What's even worse was that, as the years passed and he grew, he didn't come to learn much more about her.
By the end of his third year at Hogwarts, if Harry thought hard enough, he could come up with perhaps one lone fact about his mother; she had the same sea-blue eyes as he did. It was the only thing people seemed to be able to tell him about her. This had always struck him as odd. He knew plenty about his father by comparison. He knew that James Potter had been a troublemaker, but a clever one. He knew that James had been a great Chaser and Captain for the Gryffindor Quidditch team. He knew that he'd worn nearly the same round glasses and had the same unruly, dark tresses of hair as Harry.
But what about Juniper? What about his mother? Why was there so little to be said about her? For years, Harry had longed to know her the way he seemed to know his dad. What was her favourite school subject? Had she been a good student? Had she been kind and obedient or snarky and meddlesome? How had she met his father?
He had so many questions to be answered and, yet, as time passed, he was only awarded more questions rather than some answers. And by the end of his last term of third year, Harry had one more glaring question to add to the pile. Had his mother known about Sirius Black? Had she known he would go on to betray them so tragically?
"You were their Secret Keeper!" Harry yelled at Sirius, veins pumping with boiling hot rage. The Shrieking Shack (aptly named) shook with the volume and intensity of his voice. He thought of his mother - the faint memory he had of her face, just before she disappeared in the green glow of Voldemort's unforgiving wand - and his rage somehow grew hotter. "You killed them! You killed my parents!"
"No, Harry, he didn't. It was Peter-" Remus tried to reason once more.
"Harry... I as good as killed them," Sirius interrupted, head hanging low. His voice came out rough and a bit choked up, as if he was fighting back the guilt that had accumulated over his 12 year stay in Azakaban. "I persuaded Juniper and James to change to Peter at the last moment, persuaded them to use him as Secret-Keeper instead of me... And not only did I persuade them, I insisted..."
"Sirius..." Remus trailed off, a frown etched on his tired and lined face. He'd never heard that side of the story, never actually learned how his two best friends had died.
"Your mother, Harry, was an incredibly clever woman," said Sirius with a bittersweet chuckle. "When I first suggested the change, she refused vehemently. James, who had been much more easily convinced, was confused. When he asked her why she was so against it, she refused to say a thing. Instead, she- she made us promise that we simply wouldn't do it. But, of course, we didn't listen. We never did. Later that same night, after Juniper had gone off to tend to you, Harry, James and I stayed behind to chat about the Secret Keeper issue. We agreed that Peter would be a better choice and, unbeknownst to your mother, we made the switch anyway."
Remus, who had been listening as raptly as Harry, lowered his wand on instinct. His hand fell limp to his side and his throat suddenly felt dry. Despite his best efforts to remain quiet and not interrupt, he asked, "why?"
Sirius took in a deep breath. He didn't dare meet Remus' eye (or Harry's for that matter), but he answered anyway. "Juniper, James and I... we'd been having some disagreements. We knew there was a traitor among us, but we were... of opposing opinions about who that person was. James and I... we thought we knew better."
Remus didn't need to hear anything more to understand what that meant. Sirius and James must've thought that the traitor had been... him. Juniper must have thought otherwise. He nodded his head in grim understanding, "that's why you didn't tell me."
"Remus, my old friend, I really am sorry," Sirius repeated for the third time that night, just barely making eye contact with Remus.
"I understand, Sirius."
"Well, I don't! What are you talking about?!" Harry demanded, fists shaking with anticipation and rage. "What happened to my parents?!"
Sirius gulped in a failed attempt to soothe his dry throat. "I'm to blame, Harry. I know it. The night James and Juniper died, I'd arranged to check on Peter, make sure he was still safe, but when I arrived at his hiding place, he'd gone. Yet there was no sign of a struggle. It didn't feel right. I was scared. I set out for your parents' house straight away. And when I say their house, destroyed, and their bodies... I realised that Peter must've done... what I'd done. I realised that Juniper had been right."
Sirius' voice broke, and he turned away.
Harry could swear Sirius' eyes glistened with tears and then had the realisation that his own eyelids were suddenly also feeling very heavy. Tears were nagging at him, begging to be spilt. His chest felt tight, as if there was a boa constrictor wrapped around his torso, squeezing him with all his might. The first real thing he learned about his mother, and it had to do with her death. The injustice clawed its way up his throat and released in the form of a strangled sob.
"Enough of this," said Lupin, and there was a steely note in his voice Harry had never heard before. He must've taken notice of Harry's sudden choked sob, or maybe of Sirius' tears threatening to spill, and decided to take matters into his own hands. "There's one certain way to prove what really happened. Ron, give me that rat."
"What are you going to do with him if I give him to you?" Ron asked Remus tensely.
"Force him to show himself," said Lupin. "If he really is a rat, it won't hurt him."
Ron hesitated and made eye contact with Harry. His gaze was inquisitive, as if he was searching for something in Harry's eyes. Harry himself was still a bit unsure. Things were finally starting to make sense. His mother had been best friends with Sirius and Remus. She'd become an Animagus, just like her father, to help Remus out with his lycanthropy. She'd been a smart woman; she'd known about Peter's betrayal. And while he felt like he was already disastrously overstimulated, Harry believed his mother. If she'd thought that Peter was the culprit... maybe she had been right. Harry gave Ron a small nod, and Ron finally held out Scabbers.
Remus didn't hesitate to take Scabbers right out of Ron's hand. Scabbers began to squeak without stopping, twisting and turning, his tiny black eyes bulging in his head. He turned to Sirius and asked, "Ready?"
Sirius, who had finally regained his composure and retrieved Snape's discarded wand from the bed, approached Remus and the struggling rat. His wet eyes suddenly seemed to be burning in his face.
"Together?" he said quietly.
"I think so," said Lupin, holding Scabbers tightly in one hand and his wand in the other. "On the count of three. One - two - THREE!"
A flash of blue-white light erupted from both wands; for a moment, Scabbers was frozen in midair, his small gray form twisting madly - Ron yelled - the rat fell and hit the floor. There was another blinding flash of light and then...
It was like watching a sped-up film of a growing tree. A head was shooting upward from the ground; limbs were sprouting; a moment later, a man was standing where Scabbers had been, cringing and wringing his hands. Crookshanks was spitting and snarling on the bed; the hair on his back was standing up.
He was a very short man, hardly taller than Harry and Hermione. His thin, colorless hair was unkempt and there was a large bald patch on top. He had the shrunken appearance of a plump man who has lost a lot of weight in a short time. His skin looked grubby, almost like Scabbers'fur, and something of the rat lingered around his pointed nose and his very small, watery eyes.
He looked around at them all, his breathing fast and shallow. His eyes darted to the door and back again. Harry suddenly felt his chest tighten - whether that be with fear or pride that his mother had been as right as he'd thought, he didn't know.
"Well, hello, Peter," said Lupin pleasantly, as though rats frequently erupted into old school friends around him. "Long time, no see."
"S- Sirius... R- Remus..." Even Pettigrew's voice was squeaky. Again, his eyes darted toward the door. "My friends... my old friends..."
Black's wand arm rose, but Lupin seized him around the wrist, gave him a warning took, then turned again to Pettigrew, his voice light and casual. "We've been having a little chat, Peter, about what happened the night Juniper and James died. You might have missed the finer points while you were squeaking around down there on the bed-"
"Remus," gasped Pettigrew, and Harry could see beads of sweat breaking out over his pasty face, "you don't believe him, do you...? Sirius tried to kill me, Remus... He killed Juniper and James and now he's going to kill me too! You have to believe me!"
But Remus wasn't having it. He gave Peter an unimpressed glare. "I must admit, Peter, I have difficulty in understanding why an innocent man would want to spend twelve years as a rat."
"Innocent, but scared!" squealed Pettigrew. "If Voldemort's supporters were after me, it was because I put one of their best men in Azkaban - the spy, Sirius Black!"
Sirius' face contorted and Harry could swear he heard the beginnings of a very dog-like snarl.
"How dare you," he growled. "I, a spy for Voldemort? When did I ever sneak around people who were stronger and more powerful than myself? But you, Peter - I'll
never understand why I didn't see you were the spy from the start. You always liked big friends who'd look after you, didn't you? It used to be us... me and Remus... and James and Juniper... Merlin, it must have terrified you when Juniper figured it out, eh?"
"Me, a spy... must be out of your mind... never... Juniper never had a negative thought about me! She invited me over to babysit Harry many times... she trusted me!" Pettigrew wiped his face again; he was almost panting for breath. Based on his reaction alone, Harry had a faint suspicion he had trouble believing that himself.
"She didn't want you as her Secret-Keeper. She'd been suspicious of you for months!" Sirius lamented. "She... she'd mentioned it to me a couple times - how you never seemed to wear anything but long-sleeved shirts even though it was scorching hot in the middle of summer. She- She'd known. I'd never given it much thought, but it made sense. You were hiding the dark mark. You were-"
Sirius seemed to lose his flow for a second, lost in his own thoughts and his regrets. He closed his eyes and took in a deep breath. When it seemed like he had enough strength to continue, he said his next words with a venomous hiss, "James only wanted you as a Secret-Keeper because I suggested it and I- We went behind her back, because we thought we knew better... I thought it was the perfect plan... a bluff... Voldemort would be sure to come after me, would never dream they'd use a weak, talentless thing like you.... It must have been the finest moment of your miserable life, telling Voldemort you could hand him the Potters."
Pettigrew was muttering distractedly; Harry caught words like "far-fetched" and "lunacy," but he couldn't help paying more attention to the ashen color of Pettigrew's face and the way his eyes continued to dart toward the windows and door.
And then, Sirius turned to Harry and begged, "believe me. Believe me, Harry. I never betrayed James and... I never should have ignored Juniper and her warnings, but I never ever meant to hurt her... I would have died before I betrayed them."
And something about those words was so raw and genuine and vulnerable that Harry found himself believing him. Throat too tight to speak, he nodded.
"No!" Pettigrew had fallen to his knees as though Harry's nod had been his own death sentence. He shuffled forward on his knees, groveling, his hands clasped in front of him as though praying. "Sirius- it's me... it's Peter... your friend... you wouldn't-"
Sirius kicked out and Pettigrew recoiled. Ignoring all of Peter's pleas, he shared a meaningful and truly vengeful look with Remus and said, "shall we kill him
together?""
"Yes, I think so," said Remus grimly.
Pettigrew knelt, trembling uncontrollably, and turned his head slowly toward Harry - perhaps his last Hail Mary. "Harry... Harry... you look just like your father... just like him... And those eyes... They're just like your mother's."
Ordinarily, Harry loved hearing about his mother and her eyes. He loved knowing that he had at least a piece of her with him wherever he went. But after all that he'd just learnt about her at once, after all that had been revealed about Peter, he felt completely and utterly disgusted at the words.
"How dare you speak to Harry?!" Sirius suddenly roared, angrier than Harry had seen him this whole time. "How dare you put James' and Juniper's names in that filthy, traitorous mouth of yours?!"
"Harry," whispered Pettigrew, shuffling toward him, hands outstretched. "Harry, James wouldn't have wanted me killed.... James would have understood, Harry... he would have shown me mercy..."
But Harry wasn't taking it. He pulled a truly disgusted grimace and kicked out at the vile man begging for forgiveness at his feet. At the same time, Sirius had reached out and grabbed Peter by his filthy clothes, dragging him away from Harry and to the middle of the room roughly.
"You don't want to hurt me, Sirius! Juniper wouldn't want you to hurt me!" Peter wailed in a last-ditch attempt to save his own arse.
"Really? Well, we seem to remember Juniper a bit differently," Sirius spat bitterly. "Because I seem to recall a woman who would stop at nothing to get retribution for those who have been wronged."
"She wouldn't do that, Sirius! She told me herself!" Peter yelled out. He put his hands up in a meaningless effort to shield himself from the coming onslaught, but he needn't have done that. For once, his words must've had the effect he desired. The Shack became eerily quiet again. No one dared to speak. Ron and Hermione had long been stunned into silence. Harry had been resigned to his loathing and Remus and Sirius, who had been so vocal earlier, had stopped in their tracks.
"When did you speak to her?" Remus asked in a quiet voice, though Harry could see the thinly veiled grief and anger in his expression.
Peter squeaked half in delight, half in fear. "O-On Halloween! She came to my house in the morning a-and she... she quoted that book she loved... the Gray Image of...?"
"The Picture of Dorian Gray," Sirius recognised instantly. He'd never been big on Muggle fiction (he'd loved their motorcycles and their music, but he'd never been big on books), but Juniper used to talk so much about that book, he practically knew it off by heart.
"Y-Yes! Yes, that one! S-She said... Sin is a thing that writes itself across a man's face... It cannot be concealed. And- and she told me that sin can be forgiven... Then, forgive me, Sirius... Remus, please."
Harry felt a lone traitorous tear roll down his face - something that Sirius did not miss.
"You spoke to her... on the day that you betrayed her? She gave you a chance, a choice and you... you killed her anyway..." Sirius growled, his tone eerily quiet but filled with all the insanity and mania he'd been accused of.
"I didn't kill her!" Peter denied once more. "He-who-must-not-be-named... The Dark Lord... He-"
But Remus interrupted him before he could finish his sentence, wand at the ready. "Since you're so fond of quoting the Picture of Dorian Gray, let me pass some more of Juniper's favourite quotes onto you. There was purification in punishment. Not 'Forgive us our sins,' but 'Smite us for our iniquities' should be the prayer of a man to a most just God."
Then Sirius smiled nastily. "Maybe it's time for someone to smite you, Peter."