The trial of Peter Pettigrew was scheduled by the Ministry of Magic for the first Monday of August. Early on Sunday morning, through the open kitchen window, a brown owl flew in and, with an important air, presented its right leg with a parcel attached to it to the dark-haired boy who was eating, together with his brother, an enormous-sized fried egg.
Dinky, - he called, and the faithful house-elf immediately appeared before his master. – Open the letter, but first make sure there is nothing malicious on it.
The letter turned out to be from the head of the DMLE, a certain Miss A. Bones. She informed Mr. Potter that tomorrow, at 10 o'clock in the morning, a session of the Wizengamot would take place in connection with the review of the events of ten years ago, namely that ill-fated Halloween when Mr. Potter's parents had died. Miss Bones wrote that she was inviting him as a witness for the prosecution in the matter of harboring an unregistered Animagus-Death Eater, whose mark on the left forearm had been documented during the investigation. Once again that man, Sirius Black, was mentioned, who had spent 10 years in Azkaban accused of murdering that same Peter Pettigrew, the error of which had been proven by Mr. Potter himself at the end of the school year.
Miss Bones warned Harry that she had invited him to the court hearing without notifying the head of the Wizengamot, Professor Albus Dumbledore, and therefore, by means of the Portkey attached to the letter, the boy was to transfer to her office and wait there until she and only she summoned him.
There was no mention of accompanying persons in the letter, that is, Harry could invite whoever he wanted with him – the boy interpreted the silence as consent and grinned mischievously.
Auntie, can you accompany me tomorrow to the trial in the Wizarding World? – said the young wizard, raising his eyes to his aunt, who was sipping coffee.
The woman, who had long ago stopped resembling the mare she had been a month earlier, choked and spilled coffee on her apron.
A trial? Of whom?
Peter Pettigrew.
The traitor?
Yes.
Yes! – Petunia's grin would have frightened Voldemort himself.
I'm coming with you too, brother, - Cousin Dudley became fired up. – I want to see those idiots – wizards, when we show them your parents' will. Aunt Lily will show them even from the grave!
At night, a flying car – an old Ford, in which a crowd of redheads had arrived – Ron and his twin brothers, supposedly to save poor Harry Potter from his evil relatives, crashed into the protective dome and did not pass through it.
The protective charms woven into the shield, which did not allow ill-wishers to pass, did not let the Weasley boys reach their vis-à-vis.
The Dursleys, together with their nephew, watched this wonder through the kitchen windows in mute astonishment, imagining that aliens had flown to Little Whinging in their flying saucer. In reality, the blazing headlights of the flying car made it impossible to see anything until the bewildered "rescuers" landed the antediluvian automobile and turned off the lights, after which they began trying to reach their goal on foot – the house of the Muggles.
Their appearance on the strange transport and the recognition of the Weasley boys, besides scientific interest, caused some joyless thoughts in Potter's head, and he did not delay in announcing them:
Well, would you look at that, - he exclaimed and immediately drew the attention of the other spectators to the careless behavior of the arriving Weasleys. – For the first time in eleven years, a letter has appeared from the Wizarding World, if you don't count the Hogwarts invitation and letters with gifts, and the Weasleys are right here. Probably so that I'd be impressed by their ancient flying saucer, become moved by their concern for my fate, and, headlong, throw myself into their arms forever.
Uncle Vernon only tugged at his mustache, pondering what his nephew had said, without taking his gaze away from the teenagers crowding at the edge of the dome, still not understanding what was happening and why they could not come even one iota closer to the Muggles' house. Finally, they ran along the shield, searching for a gap in it.
I don't understand something. If the protection repels everyone from it – both wizards and ordinary people, how did these boys find our house, - he said after a minute, once the Weasleys had disappeared behind the garage. – Either they have immunity to our protection, or they have an object that allows them to find us, no matter how well we are protected.
Petunia and Dudley stopped looking through the glass and fixed their eyes on the man, expecting answers from him. But how could Vernon know what methods wizards used? In search of the truth, they looked at their magical relative, Harry Potter, hoping that he could solve the mystery of the strange abilities of the redheaded family.
Dinky! - the dark-haired boy called his elf, and after he appeared, gave him an instruction. – Unwanted visitors have appeared beyond the dome, whose behavior is causing concern. They know where the house is and who lives in it. The magic-repelling and memory-erasing charms in the shield over the house do not affect them. We suspect that they brought some object with them, by means of which they partially cope with the protection. Bring this object!
I obey, Master Harry, Dinky will secretly take the object, - the house-elf devotedly reported and disappeared with a pop.
He appeared ten seconds later, bringing with him some shiny metal switch, handing it into Potter's hands.
What is this, Dinky? – having turned the object around and examined it from all sides, the elf's master asked.
This is your Deluminator, sir. It has belonged to your family for several generations; your great-great-grandfather, Albertus Jacobus Potter, made it for his wife, so she could keep track of their twin sons, pranksters and jokers, who could not be watched by ordinary means. I do not understand how your property ended up in the hands of people who are strangers to you.
Hm, - said Uncle Vernon and looked outside again, where the teenagers were wandering along the street and showing with their whole appearance that they remembered neither how they had ended up here, nor why, nor on whose orders.
After some time, they got into the car and flew away into the night darkness.
The office of the head of the DMLE was ascetic in order and fully suited its mistress, a reserved and closed woman who did not allow even a hint of emotion to appear on her pale face. A strict haircut of straight silvered hair, a dark robe without indication of her position, a monocle! – whether in the minds of wizards a woman-boss was supposed to look like this, Harry did not know, but Miss Bones inspired trust in him.
She was not surprised when she saw young Potter's companions; only a nervous tic noticeably distorted her right cheek, but she accepted the appearance of Muggles in the Holy of Holies of the Wizarding World – the Ministry of Magic – with dignity.
Having seated the guests in armchairs around a small table by the window, she called her secretary – a stooped, quiet-looking fellow in the same dark robe as hers – and ordered him to let no one into her office to the guests until she – the lady emphasized her name – appeared personally and gave instructions concerning them.
Before leaving her visitors alone in order to depart for the session of the Wizengamot, she touched a wooden box on the wall with her wand, and the hum of many people talking came from it.
This is wizarding radio, - Madam Bones addressed Petunia, as the only adult person in the office. – Your presence here must remain secret until Mr. Potter's testimony is needed – if it is needed. You must follow the development of the investigation, listen to the interrogations, and build your intervention at each stage of the trial.
All right, Madam Bones, - Petunia smiled and patted her elegant leather suitcase with well-groomed hands. Reflections from the diamond on the ring of her index finger played across the white walls and ceiling of the office in rainbow flashes. – My nephew and I have brought with us weighty evidence in the form of documents and several vials of memories that can turn the entire Magical World upside down. If your process of punishing the traitor stalls and you feel that you are losing ground under your feet, know this – your main trump card, a bomb of immediate action, is in this suitcase.
How do you know about the Pensieve? – the head of the DMLE exclaimed, taken aback at the very door by the words of this mysterious lady, Mrs. Dursley, turned to face her and suddenly took on the look of a real police bloodhound. – You are Muggles, you should not ...
Oh, dear Madam Bones, you will be surprised what else we know! – the other woman shook her head dashingly and, looking at the shining faces of the boys sitting on both sides of her, continued more quietly, in a mysterious voice. – I advise you not to throw epithets at unfamiliar people from unfamiliar families to the wind, or you will be surprised when it, perhaps, changes its direction and throws your stones into your own garden.
The monocle fell onto the witch's chest, her dark eyes bored into the guests with a testing gaze, but her remarks – if she had any – she kept to herself and only said:
Mrs. Dursley, I am in a great hurry. We will talk another time; there is no time for it now. I want the truth to open slowly, like an onion – layer by layer, fact by fact, so that it can be thought over and comprehended well. Goodbye for now, wait here, do not go anywhere. I will send you snacks, drinks, and there, behind this door – and she gestured with her hand to an inconspicuous door of a cabinet reaching up to the ceiling - is my personal toilet, if anyone needs it.
The three visitors silently watched as the door behind the departing woman closed quietly and neatly, and some time later, the hum from the wizarding radio subsided and her strong, confident voice sounded:
Ladies and gentlemen, I open today's session of the Wizengamot with one sole item on the agenda – the investigation into the alleged death of Peter Pettigrew, supposedly killed by Sirius Black together with twelve Muggles in early November of one thousand nine hundred and eighty-one. My proposal is to begin immediately with the interrogation of Pettigrew himself by means of Veritaserum.
The loud shout of the Headmaster of Hogwarts, Albus Dumbledore, was a surprise for the listeners in Madam Bones's office:
Amelia, you are exceeding your rights! I, as Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, have the right to decide when, whom, and how to interrogate him. I forbid Veritaserum in my hall.
Professor Dumbledore, it seems to me that it is you who are exceeding your rights – we are in the hall of the Wizengamot, not in your home. We are not judging, but investigating, and, as everyone knows - the head of the Investigative Service in the Wizarding World – is me. Bring in the accused, bring the Truth Serum!
The Aurors, in all likelihood, obeyed their superior, and not the former headmaster of the school, because shouts of the members of the Wizengamot came from the wizarding radio box. Dumbledore himself allowed himself to use Sonorus, because his voice rose and drowned out the others:
Your evidence, obtained in an inhumane way and without my approval, Madam Bones, will not influence the court's decision and will not be taken into account.
Let it be so, Professor, let it not be accepted, but I will still conduct the interrogation according to the statute of the Wizengamot, and you, if you dare and if the composition of this assembly allows you to decide alone, do whatever you want! - a female voice stood out against the background of male ones.
Measured stomping and the clinking of iron were heard, and the noise in the hall quieted.
Amelia, - Dumbledore began his threats again, but was immediately stopped by the resolutely inclined head of the DMLE.
Albus, do not interfere with the investigation, or you will be placed on this chair with chains. I am very curious about the nature of your special attitude toward this Halloween, and it seems to me, and not only to me, that it will be interesting to learn certain details of past events.
You are going too far, girl!
I am fifty-five years old, and I have not been a girl for a long time, Professor! - she roared, and then immediately, in a commanding voice, more quietly, said – Proceed with the Veritaserum.
The three visitors in Miss Bones's office exchanged glances and crossed their fingers.
For ten seconds there was silence, then a question was heard:
What is your name?
They answered in a sluggish voice:
Peter Pettigrew.
When did you enter Hogwarts and in which house did you study?
In 1971, and I studied in Gryffindor.
What relationship did you have with the couple James and Lily Potter and with Sirius Black?
We were friends, we were the Marauders, Lily made sure that I did not fall behind in my studies, Sirius mocked me, but helped me become an Animagus...
Sobs and sniffling, accompanied by the clinking of chains, came through the wizarding radio.
Who betrayed the Potters to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?
It ... it was ... me.
The hall exploded with shouts, such a noise rose that the head of the DMLE had to threaten the arguing people that she would cast Silencio on them if they did not calm down and follow the rules of order. When the conversations more or less ceased, the interrogation continued:
What was Sirius Black's role in the death of the Potters?
None. Sirius Black was not connected with it in any way. He was not even chosen as Secret Keeper. When Professor Dumbledore cast the Fidelius over James and Lily's house in Godric's Hollow, Sirius was not even present there. And Remus was not there either.
Noise and uproar again filled the courtroom, and the listeners before the wizarding radio exchanged satisfied glances.
Did Professor Dumbledore not say that Sirius Black was the Secret Keeper of the Potter family? Then was he a Death Eater? – a strong unfamiliar male voice was heard.
Sirius never joined the Dark Lord. He quarreled with his family because of disagreements concerning blood purity and ran away from home.
Dark? Lord? Tell me, Pettigrew, - the same voice continued - were you a Death Eater and a follower of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?
Yes, I was, but I was not the one who decided where to go and whom to join. I was ordered.
Who ordered you? – the man would not relent, but he was not allowed to receive an answer to his question.
I forbid further questions of this kind! – the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, Albus Dumbledore, barked in an angry voice. – This will lead to the disclosure of strategic matters in the fight against Lord Voldemort. Give him the antidote!
A quiet murmur of dissatisfaction passed through the courtroom, which was suddenly cut through by a firm female voice:
If Peter Pettigrew betrayed the Potter couple to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, the trial and the court's decision regarding young Sirius Black must be reviewed. About whom I know that he is Harry Potter's godfather.
That is probably Lady Longbottom, Neville's grandmother, - Harry whispered to his aunt and cousin. – She said the same thing to me when we were saying goodbye to my classmates at the end of the year at the station.
The silence from the wizarding radio testified to a bomb exploding among the members in the courtroom. Madam Bones decided not to slow the dynamics of the investigation and immediately gave instructions to one of the secretaries:
Dolores, please bring from the Wizengamot Archive the case of Sirius Orion Black.
The noise rose by several decibels, but not for longer than ten seconds, when the voice of the head of the DMLE gave a new order:
Mr. Bailey, take two or three assistants with you and this written order for the release of Sirius Black, signed by me. Bring him to my office and remain outside to guard him. Mr. Brown, Apparate to Mungo's; I want a qualified Healer to be waiting outside my office no later than in ten minutes. I dismiss the assembly for a thirty-minute recess.
After that, music began playing over the wizarding radio, and the three in Madam Bones's office stared at the door, awaiting her appearance.
The first, however, to enter the room was a thin, dirty, stinking man. He was pushed inside not very carefully, because he could not keep his feet and collapsed onto the floor like a rag doll.
Before Petunia could say or do anything, her dark-haired nephew threw himself to his knees beside the fallen man, took his head onto his lap, and began calling him:
Sirius, Sirius ...
The man slowly opened eyes of an astonishing gray color, in which, at the sight of the boy leaning over him, wild joy flared up, and he, trembling, roared in a rough voice:
James, my brother!
I am not James, I am his son – Harry, - the boy whispered with regret, but what he said brought the former prisoner into an even more ecstatic state.
Harry, Harry, is that you? I am your godfather, Prongs, do you remember me? – gray eyes bored into the pair of green ones above him, searching for recognition. Not finding it, he did not become upset, but continued. – It does not matter, Harry, I made you my heir. You must know, I could not live a single day, reproaching myself that I had been so stupid. Take parchment and write!
Harry raised his eyes to his aunt, and she immediately pulled a small notebook and a ballpoint pen from her handbag, preparing to write down everything that this very unhealthy-looking man would dictate.
Write it down, - Sirius insisted in a hoarse voice. – The house of Sirius Black's parents is located at Grimmauld Place, number 12. – Harry's godfather's consciousness was drifting away, but he continued to speak. – My house is under Fidelius. For the protection to let you in, you must read the address aloud while standing between numbers 11 and 13. When you go inside, call Kreacher – the house-elf – and force him to swear loyalty to you. Tell him to give you my will and everything hidden in the house...
These were the man's last words, after saying which he went limp and lost consciousness.
At that moment the door opened, and a tall man in a green robe rushed inside, and right behind him the mistress of the office herself, Madam Bones, entered.
Only for a moment confused that he had found the prisoner not alone, the man began making passes with his wand over Black's thin, exhausted body. Then he levitated his carcass with Levicorpus to the fireplace and carried him away, under the stunned gazes of Petunia, Harry, and Dudley, somewhere in the suddenly flaring green flame.
Madam Bones flew into the office no longer in her former neat appearance – her short haircut had become completely disheveled and was no longer hair to hair, her cheeks were flushed, and the thrill of the chase sparkled in her dark eyes. She managed to see the green flame in the huge fireplace, wanted to shout something after it, but, realizing that she was too late, lowered her hands and finished with a detached look.
The other woman in the room – Petunia Dursley – decided to wait for comments from the head of the DMLE and looked strictly at the boys so that they would keep silent and pretend to be potted ficuses.
For some time the mistress of the office pondered the recent events in the Wizengamot hall and her unexpected confrontation with the Chief Warlock, not understanding his sudden desire to hinder the investigation. Without noticing it herself, she began reasoning aloud:
Why, why did Albus dig in his heels so much and start being harmful during the investigation? He was never so angry, never before did he put sticks in the wheels of an interrogation. Merlin, as soon as he started shouting, I had not seen him like that even when I was a student at Hogwarts ...
Perhaps the very fact of the accused Pettigrew appearing alive somehow interfered with his game, - Petunia inserted her assumptions, deliberately in a quiet, insinuating voice.
The sound of another person's voice shook Madam Bones and returned her to the real world. She fixed a stunned gaze on her visitor, finally remembering her presence.
What, what did you say? – she asked, not believing her ears.
I said that, in my opinion, Dumbledore did not like the appearance of the traitor Pettigrew in his human form at all, and it turned out to be an unexpected and very unpleasant surprise. Even more annoying was the investigation into the events of ten years ago and the possible disclosure of details concerning the death of my sister and her husband. But you missed a very important moment of the investigation, Madam Bones, - the taller Mrs. Dursley stood up and looked slightly downward into the eyes of her interlocutor, to decide whether she had overdone it with her last remark. It seemed – no, so she continued speaking, seeing the curiosity of the head of the Department of Law Enforcement. – You forgot to ask the traitor-Animagus how he got into a family of wizards and managed, unnoticed and undiscovered, to live with them for so many years. After all, as Harry told me, they are a family of pure-blood wizards! For them, recognizing an Animagus should be as easy as spitting, isn't that so? Or am I mistaken.
Petunia was very flattered to see how, in the course of her reasoning, respect for her appeared in the eyes of her interlocutor, first stealthily, and then more and more noticeably. She even began to tremble with pride in herself. The boys sitting on both sides of the woman looked at her with shining eyes, and she became embarrassed by this adoration from the children.
Mrs. Dursley, you have hit the mark very precisely. After the break, I will interrogate Pettigrew again, and then I will summon Arthur Weasley for interrogation. I promise that no one will stop me, not even my former school headmaster, despite the fact that he is a damned Order of Merlin, First Class holder!
The voice of the head of the DMLE, toward the end of her speech, sounded in a crescendo of enthusiasm. She measured out her office with her steps, marching, with her hands gathered before her heart; her low heels struck clearly against the floor, and her open robe billowed around her no worse than the robe of the Potions professor Severus Snape.
Watching her movements, a guess crept into Harry's mind as to whether the behavior of the robe might be an echo of the strong emotions overwhelming wizards.
I suspect that you managed to speak with Sirius Black; I deliberately sent him here first, expecting that, like any Animagus, his mind had not been destroyed by the Dementors, - Madam Bones continued speaking, as if to herself. – If you need to temporarily leave the Ministry – leave and return – you have no more than half an hour. I will delay the start of the session until you return.
Yes, Madam Bones, - Harry Potter answered for everyone. – We really do need to go, but we do not know how. We have the address, but I do not know whether I can call my house-elf into the Ministry of Magic building and into your office. Perhaps the place is too well protected.
Mr. Potter, I will lower the protection for one minute, call your house-elf.
____
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