Chapter 30
The day had arrived. Rodelinda Fawley had made arrangements with several friends of hers: Marigold Amerinus, a journalist, was to lurk in the alley, keeping an eye on Harry from a distance, along with a photographer crony, while Teresa Gamp, retired auror, would be accompanying Harry for the day, 'for extra security,' and to provide bodyguarding training for her particular protegé among the Auror Academy students, one Michael Proudfoot. (Nymphadora Tonks had stopped complaining about the endless bookwork, and started complaining about her new mentor's eccentricities, two weeks ago; apparently the gossip network of retired Aurors was collectively very unimpressed with the direction the Auror Academy had taken - or not taken - during the Sirius Black crisis, and had stepped in.) Madam Gamp was law-witch Fawley's godmother, 'and a half-decent Occlumens besides', and so had been fully briefed; Proudfoot had not. As far as he was concerned, it was just another day of being the minion of a rather terrifying elderly spinster, accompanying her everywhere, and being subjected to endless pop-quizzes.
Ron looked horrified to see her, and quavered "Hello, Great-Aunt Tessie," only to be subjected to a series of personal grooming charms, including a shoe-polishing; whereupon she promptly challenged Trainee Auror Proudfoot to give the incantations for all the ones she had used wordlessly, and name combat applications for them.
"What are you doing with her?" hissed Ron to Harry, under the cover of the impromptu examination.
"She's here for extra security, as a personal favour," said Harry. "She's my lawyer's partner's godmother, and an ex-auror."
"She is the cat's mother," snapped Madam Gamp. "Now I can't say what the etiquette might or might not be among muggle families these days, but young Molly should have taught you, Ronald, that it is very rude to whisper."
"Yes, Great-Aunt Tessie."
"Sorry, Madam Gamp."
Hermione appeared, and they had to make three attempts at the introduction before Madam Gamp was convinced they had the proper wizarding etiquette forms down pat. Harry simply waited on the sidelines in Madam Malkins and Ollivander's; purchased a few extra books in Flourish and Blotts, including the etiquette primer and introduction to personal security spells Madam Gamp strongly advised him to get; and made no demur at all when Madam Gamp insisted on using their stop at Florean Fortescue's as an opportunity to drill Trainee Auror Proudfoot on detection spells for use on one's food and drink, to check for potions and poisons. Hermione declared her intention of spending her birthday money from her parents on a pet, possibly an owl. Ron insisted that Erroll didn't count as his personal owl, as he belonged to the whole family.
"All I've got is Scabbers," he said, pulling him out of his pocket and setting him on the table in front of him. "And I want to get him checked over. I don't think Egypt agreed with him."
"He's very old," said Madam Gamp dubiously, fingering her wand. "How long have you had him?"
"Two years," said Ron, looking worried. "But he was Percy's before that. I dunno how old he is." So quickly Harry didn't even see her wand move, Madam Gamp fired a wordless Stunner at Scabbers.
"What was that for?" asked Ron indignantly. Proudfoot also had his wand out and trained on the rat, solely on the grounds that anything Madam Gamp stunned was probably dodgy.
"You don't remember," she said. "So, Percival had him for more than three years? More than four?"
"Maybe?" said Ron. "I mean, yeah, I think so. Percy took him to Hogwarts as a first-year, and he's starting his seventh year now. And he wasn't a young rat then. I don't remember him ever being a young rat. I really don't remember Percy getting him at all. He's just - he's Scabbers. He's always been around." Ron's face still showed blank incomprehension, but Hermione was starting to follow.
"Do magical rats normally live that long?" she asked.
"Dunno," said Ron.
"Proudfoot, you have a NEWT in Care of Magical Creatures," said Madam Gamp. "How long do rats live?"
"Three years or so for a common or garden rat," he said promptly. "Some of the more magical breeds are shorter-lived, others longer, but it's more or less unheard of for them to live past five years. A standard rat in the wild has a lifespan of one year."
"What do we conclude?"
"That something isn't natural, and we need to run a lot of detection spells?"
"Go on. And name them as you cast."
"Animagus Revelio -" He paused in horror. "That one was positive."
"Scabbers is an Animagus?" Ron gasped in horror. "He can't be. He's just Scabbers."
"Send up the signal for patrolling Aurors to come in," said Madam Gamp briskly, "then do the other detection spells, cover all the bases." The trainee Auror shot some kind of firework from his wand up into the air. Shoppers from all round the alley craned their necks, and Florean Fortescue stepped out onto the terrace.
"What's all this, then?" he asked.
"Retired Auror Gamp and Trainee Auror Proudfoot think they've found an Animagus hiding as a pet rat," said Hermione, who was constitutionally incapable of not answering questions. A camera bulb started flashing, and the witch next to the photographer had a notebook out.
"Some sort of dark magic centred on the front forelimb," Proudfoot reported. "Other tests came out clear."
"Wands out, everyone," said Madam Gamp. "I'm going to cast reverto, and the trainee Auror here will cast a body-bind. Everyone else here, you're our back-up until the other Aurors arrive. Don't let this person get away. Animagus Reverto!" It was like watching a speeded-up film of a growing tree. Even Harry, who had known what would happen, gasped. The camera clicked and flashed as the rat shot upwards, sprouted limbs, turned into a pudgy, balding man with watering eyes. For a moment, he stood on the table, but even as he tried to leap from it into the crowd, Proudfoot's petrificus totalis caught him, and he toppled like a tree. Madam Gamp levitated him so that he was leaning against the table.
"Let's see what that was on his arm," she said, and made another silent gesture. The left sleeve of the ill-fitting cardigan rolled up neatly to where the man's bicep would be, had he one, revealing a greyish, faded-looking tattoo of a snake protruding from the apertures of a skull, and curled around it. More gasps were heard, and a chorus of whispers spread, further and further along the Alley: "The Dark Mark... the Dark Mark... the Dark Mark..." The camera flashed again. Another voice was heard.
"That's Peter Pettigrew!" shouted a vaguely familiar-looking witch in her thirties, standing protectively in front of - Harry squinted - his classmate Lavender Brown, whom she strongly resembled. "He's supposed to be dead! But that's him! Oh Merlin, I went out with him in fourth year! Oh Godric! I dated a Death Eater! Oh Circe! But I thought he was Light! Everyone did! Oh!" The photographer was now snapping pictures of Lavender and her mother; of the crowd; of Ron's horrified face; of Harry; of Florean Fortescue; of the scarlet-robed Aurors now making their way through the crowd. Even as Harry watched, an owl swooped down to the reporter, and headed off again: to the Daily Prophet offices, Harry knew, where the afternoon's fracas would make the evening papers, along with a feature on 'Sirius Black: Black As He's Painted?', and another on 'Were Mistakes Made by Bagnold Administration?'. Molly and Arthur Weasley could also be seen in the distance frantically pushing their way through the crowd, trying to get to Ron. Ron's head was buried in his hands.
Pettigrew was taken away; Aurors took statements from Madam Gamp; from Trainee Auror Proudfoot; brief statements from Harry and Hermione; more serious interrogations for Ron, Mr and Mrs Weasley, and Percy, while Harry quickly pressed a pre-agreed sum of galleons into the hand of Mercutio MacMillan - who just happened to be passing - to hire him to make sure the Weasleys weren't blamed for something they had no knowledge of. Mrs Brown made a formal identification of Peter Pettigrew, with only mild hysterics; one Auror cast Sonorous before asking if anyone in the crowd had been acquainted with Peter Pettigrew, and got three people to confirm the identification. Somebody was being sent to find Pettigrew's mother and aunt, to break the news to them before they saw it in the papers. Florean Fortescue was giving out free icecream to Aurors and their interviewees. Harry and Hermione were released long before the Weasleys, and ended up going to look for Hermione's pet; once inside the Menagerie, she instantly gravitated to an enormous ginger tom with a squashed face and bow legs. Harry stocked up on owl treats, and - on impulse - purchased a collapsible owl-perch with elegant scrollwork, for Hedwig, as well as two small owl cages for Ron and Hermione's copies of the Monster Book of Monsters, and then a third for Neville's. He ran into Auror Trainee Tonks on the way out - quite literally - as she and her mentor were being sent to get testimony from the Menagerie saleswitch about the longevity of rats. Harry decided he quite shared Fred and George's view on the plausibility of Mad-Eye Moody in the role of heartthrob for teenage and pre-teen witches.
By the time the aurors left, the light was already fading, and the newsstand outside the Leaky Cauldron was already hawking copies of the Evening Prophet. Harry bought one. Almost the entire front page seemed to be the work of M. Amerinus, with only a small mention that Sirius Black had still not been caught, and stronger measures were being put in place to ensure his capture. The Weasleys looked shaken. Percy had his arm around Ron's shoulders; they seemed to be bonding over their shared loss. Teresa Gamp was lecturing her niece about Constant Vigilance; Mr Weasley was telling Harry off for hiring the lawyer.
"Not that it wasn't nice to have the back-up; that one auror was really being very unreasonable and suspicious. But honestly, Harry, I don't like you spending that money on us."
"But Uncle Arthur," said Harry, "can't I watch out for my family, now I have more of one? And besides, I felt bad about all the fuss."
"It's not as if you could have known it was going to happen," said Arthur cheerfully, and he didn't miss the momentary look of guilt that flickered across Harry's face before being suppressed. He wasn't Fred and George's father for nothing. He cast Mufflatio. "I'm not going to blame you for making sure a dangerous criminal was taken well away from my family, Harry," he said. "What I do want to know - and I've put up a spell so nobody can hear us - is how long have you known about Scabbers?"
"Since my birthday," said Harry. "But you were in Egypt."
"And why didn't you tell us sooner? Why such a public revelation?"
"I'm sorry!" said Harry. "I really am. But I had to. With him being who he is, and how I knew. If it hadn't been very public, there was a risk the Ministry might have swept it under the carpet, and it could have hurt somebody else, ruined their entire life. And I couldn't warn you or Ron or anyone in your family in advance without risking him overhearing."
"And you can't tell me who else it is that would have been hurt," said Mr Weasley, gravely.
"Sorry, no," said Harry. "Not yet. I will as soon as I can, I promise." Mr Weasley shook his head.
"I've always thought well of you, Harry," he said. "Even before I found out you were actually related to my wife, I wanted you as part of my family. You've been a good friend to my son, and you saved my daughter's life. I don't forget that. But I can't say I'm happy about this. All these secrets; all this manoeuvring. Even now, I don't think you've told us more than a fraction of what's happened over the summer, and why. And I'm sure your guardian doesn't know any of it."
"I don't have a guardian, sir," said Harry. He held up his left hand, and showed Mr Weasley his ring.
"I see," said Mr Weasley. "And am I right in thinking your former guardian doesn't know he no longer holds the position?"
"I can't say, sir," said Harry. "Nobody's ever identified themselves to me as my magical guardian or my Regent." Mr Weasley shook his head again.
"That was a politician's answer," he said. "Or a lawyer's. You're changing, Harry. Be careful. All this ritual business... it can be a slippery slope, you know. Be very careful. And with the Parseltongue. Don't let one thing lead to another. I worry about you, you know. You're at a difficult age. You need the guidance of older, wiser heads, to keep you firmly on the side of the Light."
"I have people to advise me," said Harry. "I'm not doing anything evil."
"And Dumbledore? I can't approve of your going behind his back, you know."
"He put me in an abusive home," said Harry. "I wasn't going to stay there longer than I had to. Or leave my magical cousins there to suffer similar abuse. I did what I had to do, and I'd do it all over again if necessary."
"Abusive? Really?" said Arthur. "I suspected they weren't exactly suitable, or nice, and Molly said you were far too thin..."
"Abusive," said Harry firmly. "And under mis-cast wards that stopped me getting help. I can tell you the details if you like. With plenty of proof." Arthur sighed. He looked much older.
"No," he said. "I don't think I want to know. But do, please, be careful. Careful whose help and advice you accept. Careful not to stray too far from the Light. And don't - you could do a tremendous amount of damage to the Headmaster, politically. It would be a gift to the likes of Malfoy. Please don't."
"I won't go after him if he doesn't go after me," said Harry firmly, and then in a more conciliatory tone: "I've got no love for the likes of Malfoy, Uncle Arthur. I know what he did." Arthur Weasley patted Harry gently on the back, shook his head sorrowfully, cancelled the spell, and moved over to where his wife stood with her Aunt Tessie. Harry stared after him, feeling as though he'd lost something important.
"What was that about?" asked Hermione.
"Mr Weasley used a charm so we couldn't be overheard," said Harry. "You're staying at the Leaky Cauldron tonight, aren't you? Ask him to teach it to you."
"And what were you talking about?"
"Mostly about my summer," said Harry.
"You look like you need a hug," said Hermione, and gave him one. "Cheer up. We're off to Hogwarts tomorrow. And there are all the new electives to try."
Harry had already flooed back to the Godric's Hollow pub when he remembered what Hermione had said about her birthday, and flooed back to the Hopping Pot. Stowe & Packers was still open, and he was able to get Hermione a large-capacity, featherlight shoulderbag, like the one he used himself. Judging by the vast quantity of books she had bought at Flourish & Blotts, she might need one; and the proprietor was able to have Hermione's initials embossed onto the bag while Harry waited, for two sickles extra. It still didn't seem like enough of a present. He went to Amanuensis and Scribbulus, to see if the stationary they sold included birthday cards; not only did Scribbulus have cards, they also sold Protean Charmed wax tablets. Harry had never even heard of such a thing, but it sounded awesome; he bought five pairs. One for Hermione and her parents. One for him and Ted; one for him and Sirius; and two more sets, just in case. Hedwig was happy to take Ted his tablet; and Harry was finally able to sleep. It had been a long day.