The piece of Tom Riddle's soul in the locket resisted merging in every possible way, but against the overwhelming power and desire of its main part, located in the Boy-who-heh-lived, it had no chance.
The new piece brought with it a tangle of terrible, painful childhood memories and a heap of useful knowledge in the field of Potions.
In the autumn, the dean of the green house, Professor Severus Snape, was expecting big and extremely unpleasant surprises in the person of his hated student from Gryffindor and, at the same time, a thorn in his backside, the son of his school enemy, Harry James Potter.
Madam Bones was waiting in her office and nervously pacing across it. Seeing Harry Potter with his relatives, coming out of the fireplace one after another, she sighed with relief and rushed to hold them with her hands so they would not fall, out of unfamiliarity, onto the floor.
"Settled your affairs?" the mistress of the office asked Petunia, addressing her more as an adult person. "I must warn you that I have very bad news from Mungo's regarding Black. Dumbledore burst into his hospital ward — neither the nurses, nor the Healers, nor the guards stopped him. He spent only a few minutes by Black's bed, but after that all signs of the patient's recovery completely disappeared, and they were unable to bring him back to consciousness. Black remained in the hospital."
"How could such a thing happen?" Mrs. Dursley bristled, not understanding the permissiveness that the headmaster of Hogwarts enjoyed in the Wizarding world. "What, is Dumbledore Mr. Black's father?"
The Head of Magical Law Enforcement stared at her interlocutor in confusion until, finally, it dawned on her what she had been asked.
"No, of course not!" she answered, waving her hands in front of herself. "But Albus is a major figure in our world; he defeated the wizard who ignited the Second World War, Gellert Grindelwald."
"Forgive me, but I simply do not understand," Petunia's astonishment grew with every hour. "What does a victory over some wizard forty years ago have to do with a hospital visit to my nephew's innocent godfather, who has just been released from prison?"
"The point, Mrs. Dursley, is that the victor over Grindelwald was Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot at the time when Black was sentenced to life in Azkaban. I want to admit to you that you have once again given me the right lead — something here smells very bad. Well then, we change the style of our game — you will go with me to the courtroom."
The appearance of the last representative of the Potter family went almost unnoticed by most members of the Wizengamot. But a tall, well-dressed young lady, followed silently by two teenagers, naturally drew the attention of the men younger than seventy, and they began whispering and discussing among themselves who she was, from what family, whether the seat on the benches of the wizarding court belonged to her or to one of the teenagers, and to which of the two.
The lady, dressed in a dark silk suit with an ankle-length skirt and with the very minimum of jewelry on herself, walked, fixing the gaze of her cold blue eyes ahead of her, directly to the hereditary seats of the Wizengamot and took, together with the teenagers, the empty place of the Potter family. Sitting on the right side, Lady Augusta Longbottom showed restraint and did not show her surprise in any way, merely exchanged a conspiratorial glance with the dark-haired boy from among the newcomer stranger's companions and gave her a restrained nod.
Expecting an intriguing spectacle, the other members of the Wizengamot began exchanging their assumptions aloud. It was possible to sit in a place in this hall only by inheriting it or with the permission of the quorum of the assembly. Wizards or their representatives who were granted this honor, however, were assigned the last two rows.
The young lady had taken the hereditary seat of one of those Ancient families — the creators of the Wizengamot — and if she had overcome the seal that forbade the unworthy even to approach close, and which even Albus Dumbledore, who claimed the seat of the Potter representative, had been unable to overcome, it meant only one thing — she was using the special permission of the last representative of this outstanding family. And this led to the logical guess that one of the boys with her was possibly Harry Potter — the Boy-Who-Lived.
Those present in the hall wondered what would happen, after the appearance of the lawful heir, to the position of the Chief Warlock, who until now had held the post of acting representative of the Potters, although he could not occupy their hereditary seat in the Wizengamot?
Matters were taking a rather absurd direction of development, and this stirred up the minds of the participants of today's investigation and created ground for all sorts of guesses and gossip.
The seats of the Chief Warlock and the chairman of the session were still empty. Minister Fudge and his deputy — an elderly wizard whose hair resembled a sparse dandelion fluff — sat in the central seats in the first row, directly in front of the group of newcomers. Fudge was being torn apart by curiosity, and he slightly turned his head to look at the woman out of the corner of his eye, when suddenly he met the mocking gaze of a pair of emerald eyes and froze from surprise.
"Merlin, Potter has taken his lawful place here, and that means that... Oh-oh! I urgently need to revise my position on the new matter." flashed through the Minister of Magic's head.
Having settled herself comfortably on the benches, the young lady placed a leather briefcase for documents on the stand in front of her, then with languid movements removed expensive brocade gloves from her hands and decorously crossed her hands over it so that the diamond set into her ring sparkled, and the reflections began to weave rainbow patterns on the ceiling.
The eyes of the wizards in a hypnotic trance followed the dance of light; conversations in the hall died down because of the unexpected light show.
Ignoring the unprecedented interest in herself, the woman swept the boys with a gaze full of tenderness and with a light movement removed a speck of dust from the shoulder of the fair-haired boy, and then a fallen lock of black hair from the forehead of the dark-haired one. Enchanted by the stranger, the wizards in the hall absorbed all her actions. In this way, her signs of attention toward the teenagers allowed them to see the legendary scar of the Boy-Who-Lived.
The realization of the fact that the savior of the Wizarding world was present in the courtroom exploded the audience, and they began shouting greetings in his direction and making attempts to get to him in order to congratulate him and, if possible, shake his hand.
The hostile look of the young woman and, most of all, the wand of Lady Longbottom, angered by the lack of restraint of the adults, cooled the passions that had flared up among the honorable representatives of the wizarding elite.
Nodding gratefully to the elderly lady, the young woman placed her right hand on the shoulder of the dark-haired boy, who, despite all the commotion, had remained cold, and began whispering something to him. The green eyes looked threateningly at the interrogation chair, and it seemed to her that her nephew was not listening to her.
The silence that quickly reigned in the courtroom drew the attention of the three, and they followed the entrance of the head of the DML, Madam Amelia Bones, behind whom walked two tall, lean Aurors. She gave them some orders in a low voice, and her subordinates quickly departed to carry out their superior's command.
After she had taken her place behind the cramped lectern opposite the interrogation chair, she arranged in front of herself a heap of folios, on top of them — a large painted bowl with low sides, and beside it — several glass vials with a pearlescent liquid inside.
While Madam Bones was preparing for the difficult continuation of the morning revelations, Albus Dumbledore himself arrived in the hall, dressed in the robes of the Chief Warlock — huge, made of cherry velvet, embroidered with gold.
Having sat down in his place, he took the gavel and struck it against the pedestal:
"I open the session..."
Madam Bones, by her order, did not allow him to spread further into ornate and meaningless words so as not to interfere with her intentions to reveal the truth of that Halloween:
"Bring in Peter Pettigrew!"
The Chief Warlock's eyes behind his half-moon spectacles flashed viciously with icy blue. Madam Bones felt hot from this, but she did not back down and did not take her words back.
"Since before the break I did not finish questioning the accused Pettigrew, with the permission of the highest court I will continue from the place where I stopped," said the head of the DMP. "So, Mr. Pettigrew, I repeat the question you did not answer before the break — Who ordered you to become a Death Eater?"
The man chained to the table with steel chains looked guiltily at the figure clothed in cherry velvet, but the truth serum forced him to answer, no matter how much this answer complicated his own position and not only his own.
"I took the Mark at the insistence of Headmaster Dumbledore. He assured me that he needed a spy in the Death Eaters' camp... my help would be desperately necessary to the Order... that is what he told me."
"You spied for the Order of the Phoenix, a personal organization running errands for Albus Dumbledore?" Amelia Bones could not believe her ears.
Peter Pettigrew fidgeted in place — the manacles of the chains dug into his flesh and obstructed the normal flow of blood.
"At first that was so," he answered, frowning from discomfort and itching in his limbs. "Then... then I had to become the Potters' Secret Keeper, so that on the appointed day, at the appointed hour, I would open access for the Dark Lord into the home of... my... friends."
"Who, who gave such an order?"
Suddenly the velvet-clad figure of the Chief Warlock straightened and, as if, rose above all those present:
"I forbid further questioning of the witness!" Dumbledore roared, and the magic surrounding him shone with silver fibers. Sighs of admiration rushed through the hall. "Give him the antidote."
But the Ministry's chief investigator had immunity to such effects. With a dashing movement she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, which made her look like a mischievous girl; her eyes flashed with a dark gleam, and her ringing voice objected cheerfully:
"The person being questioned, Pettigrew, is not a witness, Chief Warlock. He is the accused. I have already warned you that I am conducting the investigation, not you! You, with your negligence, are obstructing the investigation, and I will use the right given to me upon taking the position of Head of the DMP and by the oath given by me. Albus Dumbledore, I forbid you to speak further without being asked and without permission."
Lady Augusta Longbottom leaned slightly over the heads of the boys and in a loud whisper — so that she was heard even in the last row — said to her neighbor:
"I have never until now seen Amelia so reckless. Looking at her condition, I am already afraid of what you surprised her with so much, what facts you brought her in this here briefcase," a well-groomed but bony elderly finger pointed at the stand in front of the younger woman, and a spark in Augusta's dark eyes merrily flickered, "that she went against the Chief Warlock."
"Hmm," said only the neighbor, the corner of whose mouth trembled with satisfaction in response.
The elderly witch's hand reached the young lady's hand and conspiratorially squeezed it.
"Answer, accused!" meanwhile, the head of the DMP continued Pettigrew's interrogation. "Who ordered you to bring He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named to the Potters in Godric's Hollow?"
Veritaserum forced the short wizard in chains to overcome some inner prohibitions, and he, turning gray, whispered, but everyone held their breath and everyone heard his answer:
"The order was given to me by... Professor Dumbledore..."
"He lies!" roared the old headmaster of the wizarding school Hogwarts. "He lies! He is a Death Eater, Voldemort ordered him and probably placed compulsions on him to accuse me of the most impossible absurdities."
"Silencio!" said Amelia Bones. "Agglutium![2]"
The Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot collapsed backward on his majestic throne with an open but soundless mouth and eyes bulging from the inhuman effort to free himself from the magical charms of sticking and muteness.
"Tell us what happened on that Halloween, Pettigrew!" the raging head of the DMP ordered in a commanding voice.
"After he heard Sybill Trelawney's prophecy from Snot... Snape, the Dark Lord changed his strategy and decided to come to an agreement with James Potter. He persuaded me to bring him to their home so he could offer them neutrality. But after the Lord entered James and Lily's house, I heard cries of spells, a little later Lily began asking him not to touch Harry, then silence came, and I thought — something had not gone well with the conversation. I did not know what to do and where to go, so I Apparated to the school headmaster to beg him for protection. He told me that he would take care of everything himself, and that I had better go home. I did just that."
Sweat dripped from the prisoner's nose, but the chains did not allow him to reach his face to wipe it away. The little eyes looked longingly at the decanter of water in front of the Minister of Magic, and he called the Auror standing nearby. Pouring water into a glass bowl, he ordered the Auror to give it to Pettigrew. Fudge could not calmly look at people's physical torments.
After Pettigrew drank water from the bowl supported by the Auror Office employee, he continued his story:
"The next day Sirius burst into my home with accusations that I was a traitor, that he would kill me. A battle started, I tried to Apparate, but he followed at my heels. In the Muggle district, we were violating the Statute of Secrecy with our spells, and Aurors arrived after us. Sirius shouted that he was guilty of everything, meaning that he had allowed me to be made Secret Keeper, but the Aurors — idiots — understood everything differently and immediately arrested him. I cut off my finger, turned into a rat, and ran away into the sewer. That is all."
"How did you get into the Weasley family?" Amelia continued with questions.
The hall grew noisy.
Harry pricked up his ears and leaned forward so as not to miss a single detail from the story.
"I liked living alone, far away from everyone, among Muggles. Magic allowed me to live where I wanted, how I wanted, lacking nothing. But my Paradise ended with the appearance of Headmaster Dumbledore. He directly told me that if I did not agree to live as a rat with the Weasleys, he would hand me over to the head of the DMP."
"Give him the antidote and take him to the holding cells!" Amelia Bones suddenly gave the order.
Ten minutes later, when passions had calmed down and some kind of silence had reigned in the hall so that people could hear each other, Madam Bones applied Sonorus and announced:
"We must make a decision regarding the further fate of Peter Pettigrew. After a detailed interrogation under Veritaserum, we have sorted out how and by whose command he ended up in You-Know-Who's camp. You all heard from Pettigrew's own mouth that Albus Dumbledore sent him to the Death Eaters to spy on them. Dumbledore gave a direct order not as headmaster of the school, not as Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, but as the leader and creator of the Order of the Phoenix, in which my deceased brother, Edgar Bones, also participated. Presence at Death Eater meetings supplied Pettigrew with information about certain attacks that they arranged against innocent residents of the Wizarding, but most often — the Muggle world, and thus allowed him to inform the Order of the Phoenix and Dumbledore in particular in time. Pettigrew's information, as it turned out during the preliminary interrogation, saved more than one human life and prevented quite a lot of violence. I do not see, looking at Peter Pettigrew's participation in the circle of Death Eaters from this angle, the elements of a crime. On the contrary, he should be rewarded for intelligence gathering and the prevention of a number of bloody attacks by You-Know-Who's minions on the civilian population. Does anyone present have objections on this matter?"
Dead silence reigned in the Court hall. No one could believe their ears that the head of the DMP had made such a turn — proposing to them that they acquit a Death Eater, a minion of the terrible Lord V..., He-Who. Madam Bones, seeing that since no one intended to speak, everyone agreed with her proposal, said:
"I see there are no objections. My proposal is to vote for the following decision of the Wizengamot in the case of the accusation of Peter Pettigrew of membership in the group of You-Know-Who, known to the public under the name 'Death Eaters,' namely: To acquit Peter Pettigrew for his membership in the circle of Death Eaters on the grounds that he was carrying out the direct instruction of Albus Dumbledore, who at that moment was already Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, and his instructions had the force of law. Espionage in favor of the Order of the Phoenix, created to fight the lawlessness of You-Know-Who, saved human lives and prevented many sufferings for potential victims. Those who agree with my proposal — vote with white light from the wand. Those who do not agree — red, those who abstain — yellow. Quaestors, sum up the results after the vote."
A sea of white fireflies shone above the heads of the wizards present in the hall, among which there were only three or four yellow ones. The chief quaestor in the hall brought Amelia Bones a parchment on which was written the number of those who voted "for," "against," and "abstained," after which Madam Bones announced:
"The session of the Wizengamot has decided not to bring charges against Peter Pettigrew for his membership in the circle of followers of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, and the presence of the Dark Mark on his arm must not henceforth be considered a crime. Record it!" she indicated to the secretary. "We move on to the next article of accusation. Betrayal of the Potters. After questioning with truth serum, it became clear that here again there are no elements of a crime. Silence!" The degree of tension and bewilderment immediately rose and threatened to ignite new, more fiery disputes among the members of the Wizengamot. After all, betrayal and the subsequent murder of the young Potter couple, in the eyes of wizards, could not possibly be whitewashed. The head of the DMP waited for the noise and the conversations arising here and there to die down, then continued. "The main and only question — why did he betray his very best friends — received its firm, uncompromising, and most logical answer. He did NOT betray them. I made this conclusion based on the following premises: first — he had the permission and direct order of the wizard who cast the Fidelius on the home of the young Potters to give You-Know-Who access to the Potters' house. To the question of who cast the Fidelius, Pettigrew answered unambiguously that it was Albus Dumbledore. That is, Albus knew that the Secret Keeper was not Sirius Black, but Peter Pettigrew, yet allowed an innocent man to be imprisoned.
Still sitting on his throne, Dumbledore made a desperate attempt to push the sticking spell away from himself, but could not, and, despairing, went limp and hung in his place, trying to speak at least somehow. His twitching drew the attention of those present in the hall, but no one showed even a drop of sympathy toward him. Dumbledore felt on his back how quickly public opinion was changing, and how from an adored idol whose words were in no way subjected to doubt, he was turning into a suspicious type who was looked at with caution.
Meanwhile Amelia Bones continued to develop her reasoning:
"On the second point of accusation, Peter Pettigrew, formally, was doing a service to his friend, James Potter. Why? From Pettigrew's words, which everyone heard, You-Know-Who, from some point on, changed his decision to attack the Potters and finally decided to meet with them and discuss the conditions of a truce and neutrality between them. Pettigrew did not know, and therefore did not say during either the preliminary or the official interrogation, the reason for such an unheard-of change in You-Know-Who's strategy, but from Pettigrew's words, he came to Godric's Hollow in peace. Based on the intentions that his master advertised — NOT to kill, but to make peace with the Potters — the Chief Warlock's permission would clearly have benefited the positive outcome of the mission for the young family, so Pettigrew has nothing to be blamed for. On the other hand, he has no relation to what happened next inside the house — the battle, the death of the elder Potters, and the attack on baby Harry."
The head of the DMP herself was surprised at how reasonable and fair the words sounded with which she, contrary to what she had thought in the morning, justified all the actions and deeds of the accused Pettigrew. Having caught her breath and looked around, meeting the eyes of the people in the second row and the other members of the Court, fixed on her with interest and surprise, she made her proposal:
"I propose that the respected composition of the Wizengamot vote on the following proposal: 'In view of the fact that, by giving V-v-v-oldemort access to the home of the young Potter couple, formally, Peter Pettigrew did not violate any prohibition of the law and did not threaten his friends by his actions, taking into account V-voldemort's proposal of a truce and neutrality on his part' — Amelia finally resolved to use, for the record, this nickname of the terrible dark wizard that the entire Wizarding world feared to convulsions and did not dare to pronounce — "I propose voting 'not guilty.' Those in favor — white light, those against — red, abstaining — yellow. Quaestors!"
Five minutes later she announced:
"... The Court has ruled — there is not enough weighty evidence of the accused Peter Pettigrew's guilt under the article 'Betrayal' to pass a sentence, and the majority of the quorum voted 'in favor.' The accusation of betrayal is removed from Peter Pettigrew; he is considered innocent in the death of the couple James and Lily Potter."
Harry Potter watched with all his eyes the development of the court proceedings against the betrayer of his parents and could not find a single mistake in the debates. Indeed, if your parents — and how else to call young James and Lily — are dead by violent death, then there are those guilty of this death. But the guilt of Peter Pettigrew — a small pawn in a big game — did not exist, except for the fact that he had not registered his Animagus rat form with the Ministry of Magic in time. Under this insignificant article he was sentenced to a fine in the amount of one hundred Galleons. But they did not release the short wizard, trembling from an excess of emotions, to all four corners of the world; instead they detained him as a witness for further investigations already of the Chief Warlock himself, Albus Dumbledore.
The next gathering of the full composition of the Wizengamot was scheduled in three days, when Amelia planned to organize both Arthur Weasley's interrogation and present the evidence in the glass vials that had not been used today. But at the next session she intended to present for consideration both the memories in the vials and the documents from Mrs. Dursley's briefcase.
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