Chris sat at his desk in the Hufflepuff dormitory, quill hovering over his transfiguration essay as he contemplated Professor McGonagall's question about the fundamental limitations of cross-species transformation. Then, like lightning striking a calm lake, a realization hit him with such force that his quill slipped from his fingers, leaving an ugly blot of ink spreading across his carefully crafted introduction.
"Pettigrew," he whispered, the name hanging in the air like an accusation. "How could I have forgotten Pettigrew?"
For all his meticulous planning, for all his success in extracting the Horcrux from Harry and eliminating Voldemort entirely, he had somehow overlooked the rat, the literal rat, who had betrayed the Potters and framed Sirius Black. The man who had changed the course of Harry's life, condemning him to grow up with the Dursleys instead of his rightful godfather.
Chris pushed his chair back, barely noticing as it scraped against the floor. A month had passed since the Soul Execution Ritual, a month of adjusting to his enhanced magical sensitivity and watching the ripples of Voldemort's destruction spread through Hogwarts. Snape had returned to teaching after a week in the hospital wing, his demeanor even more bitter than before, though Chris occasionally caught the man absently rubbing his left forearm where the Dark Mark had once burned. Dumbledore had taken over Defense Against the Dark Arts temporarily, his twinkling eyes occasionally lingering on students with an intensity that suggested he was searching for answers to questions he hadn't yet formulated.
And all this time, Peter Pettigrew had been living in Gryffindor Tower, sleeping in Harry Potter's dormitory, a Death Eater hiding in plain sight.
"Unacceptable," Chris muttered, reaching for the Marauder's Map in his desk drawer. "I'm supposed to be better than this."
He spread the map across his transfiguration essay, pressing his wand to its center. "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good," he whispered, watching as ink spread outward in spidery lines, revealing the castle and its occupants.
His eyes scanned the parchment methodically, seeking the dots labeled "Ronald Weasley" and, more importantly, the smaller dot that should be nearby, Peter Pettigrew, currently masquerading as Ron's pet rat, Scabbers. He found them on the third floor, in a bathroom near the Charms corridor. Ron appeared to be alone except for his "pet," likely taking a break between classes.
Perfect timing.
Chris folded the map carefully but left it active, tucking it into an inner pocket of his robes. His mind raced through the implications of what he was about to do. Capturing Pettigrew wouldn't just complete another item on his mission list; it would rewrite another significant chapter of the original timeline. Sirius Black would be exonerated, freed from Azkaban years earlier than in the previous history. Harry might gain a proper guardian, someone who actually cared about him, potentially altering his development from the neglected, unprepared boy of the original timeline into something more balanced, more prepared.
He moved to his trunk, unlocking it with a tap of his wand and the whispered password, "Ambrosia Sanctum." Inside his pocket dimension, Chris retrieved two items he'd had Jilly bring from Ambrosia Manor's collection of magical artifacts: a pair of enchanted silver cuffs designed to suppress a wizard's magic and a specialized collar with anti-Animagus runes that would force a transformation back to human form and prevent further shape-shifting.
Chris slipped the cuffs and collar into his pocket, then retrieved the Invisibility Cloak from its drawer in his study. He paused, considering his approach. Stunning both Ron and Pettigrew would be necessary, he couldn't risk the rat escaping in the chaos of being discovered. Then he'd need to secure Pettigrew in both forms, rat and human, before delivering him to someone who could ensure proper justice. Amelia Bones was the obvious choice, her position as Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and her reputation for incorruptible justice making her the ideal recipient of this particular gift.
His heart beat faster as he climbed the steps out of his trunk, shrinking it back to pendant size and tucking it beneath his shirt. The weight of it was reassuring against his chest.
Harry Potter might just get that happy childhood he deserved after all, or at least what remained of it.
Chris draped the Invisibility Cloak over his shoulders, pulling the hood up to conceal himself completely. The familiar sensation of disappearing from view still brought a small thrill, even after months of ownership. He moved toward the door, his step quick but controlled, determination evident in every movement.
"Hold on, Sirius," he whispered to himself as he slipped out of the Hufflepuff dormitory. "Your freedom's coming sooner than you think."
The third-floor boys' bathroom door opened silently, though no one appeared to pass through it. Chris slipped inside, the Invisibility Cloak rendering him completely undetectable as he assessed the scene before him. The bathroom smelled of damp stone and soap, sunlight streaming through high windows to create bright squares on the worn floor tiles. Ron Weasley stood at one of the sinks, sleeves rolled up as he washed his hands, apparently talking to his pet rat, which sat on the counter's edge nibbling what looked like bread crumbs smuggled from lunch.
"Eat up, Scabbers," Ron said, flicking water from his fingers. "We've got Charms next, and you can nap in my bag."
Chris positioned himself carefully against the wall, adding a silent Notice-Me-Not charm as an extra layer of protection. Since the ritual with Mother Magic, silent casting had become remarkably easier, spells flowing from his intention to reality with minimal effort. He studied his targets, calculating angles and timing. The rat, no, the Animagus, sat comfortably on the porcelain counter, whiskers twitching as he consumed his meal, oblivious to the fact that his twelve-year deception was about to end.
'Stupefy,' Chris thought, channeling his magic through his wand with precise control. The red jet of light shot silently across the room, striking Ron squarely on the back.
The redhead crumpled forward, his tall frame collapsing against the sink. Water splashed across his robes as his body slumped awkwardly, one arm draped over the basin's edge, the other dangling at his side. His freckled face pressed against the mirror, breath fogging the glass in diminishing patches.
Scabbers froze, beady eyes widening as his human companion collapsed. The rat's survival instincts kicked in immediately, tiny claws scrabbling against the porcelain as he prepared to flee. Chris didn't give him the chance.
'Stupefy,' he cast again, a second beam of red light hitting the rat with precision.
The small form went rigid, then toppled onto its side, whiskers still trembling slightly in the aftermath of the stunning spell. Chris moved swiftly now, removing the Invisibility Cloak and folding it into a pocket of his robes. Time was critical, someone could enter the bathroom at any moment.
He approached the counter, eyeing the stunned rat with disgust. This creature had betrayed his friends, condemned an innocent man to twelve years in Azkaban, and lived comfortably among the Weasleys while Sirius suffered the constant torment of Dementors. In another timeline, this rat would have escaped again and again, eventually helping resurrect Voldemort in that graveyard ritual.
"Not this time," Chris whispered, removing the enchanted collar from his pocket.
The anti-Animagus device was delicate-looking despite its power, silver filigree etched with ancient runes that glowed faintly blue when activated. Chris carefully placed it around the rat's neck, fastening the clasp with a soft click. The effect was immediate and unsettling.
Scabbers' form began to expand, fur receding as limbs elongated in unnatural directions. The transformation was nothing like the smooth shift of a voluntary Animagus change, this was forced and grotesque, the rat's body contorting as it grew and morphed. Clothes materialized from nowhere as the magic of the Animagus transformation reversed itself, revealing dirty human garments that had been part of the spell for over a decade.
Within seconds, a small, balding man lay sprawled across the bathroom counter and partially onto the floor, his body too large for the space where the rat had been. The water from the sink soaked the shoulder of his shabby robes, but he remained unconscious, unaware of his exposure.
Peter Pettigrew looked nothing like a hero who had confronted a murderous Sirius Black, as wizarding history had painted him. His face retained rat-like features, a pointed nose, small watery eyes now closed, and large front teeth visible through slightly parted lips. His thinning hair revealed a pink scalp that hadn't seen sunlight in years. His fingers ended in unusually long nails, yellowed and cracked, and a faint odor of garbage and unwashed body emanated from him.
Most tellingly, his left forearm bore the faded but unmistakable outline of the Dark Mark.
Chris wrinkled his nose in disgust as he applied the magic-suppressing cuffs to Pettigrew's wrists, the silver bands adjusting automatically to fit the man's thin arms. The cuffs glowed briefly blue, then settled into a constant, subtle shimmer as they began dampening Pettigrew's magical core, preventing any wandless attempts at escape or transformation despite the collar.
"Insurance," Chris murmured, raising his wand once more. "Stupefy," he cast aloud this time, sending another stunning spell into Pettigrew's chest.
The man's body twitched once, then went completely still, now under the influence of a fresh stunning spell that would keep him unconscious for transportation. Chris stood over him, taking in the moment with a sense of grim satisfaction. Another piece of the puzzle moved into place, another wrong righted before it could contribute to more darkness in the wizarding world.
The capture had gone flawlessly, quick, efficient, with minimal risk of detection. Ron would awake confused but unharmed, likely to believe he'd simply fainted. Pettigrew would never know what hit him, transitioning from comfortable rat to prisoner without ever having a chance to escape or harm anyone else.
Chris glanced at Ron's slumped form, feeling a twinge of sympathy for the boy who was about to lose a pet he'd had for years, not that Ron would miss Pettigrew once the truth was revealed. Still, the shock would be considerable, especially for a twelve-year-old who believed he'd been sleeping with an ordinary rat in his bed all this time.
"Time to deliver the package," Chris whispered.
Standing over Pettigrew's unconscious form, "Jilly," he whispered, his voice barely disturbing the dripping water from the sink where Ron remained slumped. The bathroom air shifted, compressing slightly before a soft pop announced the house elf's arrival in a corner away from the windows, where her appearance would go unnoticed should anyone pass by outside.
Jilly's large amber eyes took in the scene with remarkable composure, though her slender fingers clutched at the hem of her immaculate dress as her gaze moved from Ron's collapsed form to the unconscious man sprawled awkwardly across the sink counter. Only a slight widening of those intelligent eyes betrayed her surprise.
"Master called for Jilly," she said, her melodic voice hushed appropriately for the clandestine situation.
"Yes," Chris said, gesturing toward Pettigrew. "This is Peter Pettigrew, Jilly. The wizard everyone believes was murdered by Sirius Black twelve years ago."
Jilly stepped closer, her movements silent on the stone floor. "The wizard who betrayed the Potters," she said, displaying the comprehensive knowledge she possessed of all matters important to her master. "The one who framed Master Sirius Black and has been hiding as the Weasley family's pet."
Chris nodded, appreciating once again how thoroughly Jilly understood his plans without requiring exhaustive explanation. "Exactly. He's been living as Ron Weasley's pet rat for years, hiding from justice while an innocent man suffered in Azkaban."
He reached into his expanded pocket and withdrew a sealed envelope, the parchment heavy and cream-colored, bearing a generic mark in dark blue wax. Though he hadn't planned today's capture specifically, Chris had prepared for this eventuality months ago, drafting letters for various scenarios that might arise during his time at Hogwarts. The Pettigrew letter had been stored in his trunk alongside others, ready for the moment opportunity presented itself.
"This contains a letter for Madam Amelia Bones," Chris explained, handing the envelope to Jilly. "It explains who Pettigrew is, what crimes he committed, and suggests specific steps for his processing. Most importantly, it instructs her to check him for the Dark Mark and use Veritaserum during questioning."
Jilly accepted the letter with appropriate gravity, her fingers closing carefully around the parchment. "Does Madam Bones know the letter comes from young Master?"
"No," Chris replied. "The letter is anonymous, claiming only to be from someone who seeks justice. If Madam Bones performs the suggested checks, the evidence will speak for itself. Pettigrew's continued existence proves Sirius Black couldn't have killed him, and under Veritaserum, he'll be forced to admit to betraying the Potters and framing Black."
The letter also contained subtle magical nudges, nothing as crude as compulsion charms, which would be detected by someone of Amelia's caliber, but rather carefully crafted phrases that would encourage certain thought patterns and conclusions. The Ambrosia family had refined the art of persuasive writing over generations, incorporating minor enchantments into ink and phrasing to guide the reader's thoughts along desired paths.
"You need to deliver him directly to Madam Bones's office at the Department of Magical Law Enforcement," Chris continued. "Can you bypass the Ministry's anti-apparition wards?"
Jilly drew herself up slightly, a glimmer of pride in her composed demeanor. "Jilly can deliver packages anywhere, Master. House elf magic is not stopped by wizard wards."
"Perfect," Chris said with a small smile. "Make sure you aren't seen during delivery. Place him directly on the floor of her office with the letter on his chest, then leave immediately. The cuffs will keep him contained and prevent transformation, but he'll start waking in about an hour as the stunning spell wears off."
Jilly nodded, moving to Pettigrew's side. "And the young Weasley?" she asked, glancing at Ron's slumped form.
"I'll handle him," Chris assured her. "He'll wake thinking he fainted, nothing more."
Jilly reached out, her long fingers gripping Pettigrew's shabby robes. She placed the letter carefully on his chest, positioning it so it would be immediately visible. "Jilly will return to the Manor after the delivery," she said. "Master will call if he requires anything else?"
"Yes, thank you, Jilly," Chris replied. "This is excellent work."
With a respectful nod and another soft crack of displaced air, Jilly disappeared, taking the stunned form of Peter Pettigrew with her. The bathroom suddenly felt larger without the traitor's presence, as though a shadow had been lifted from the space.
Chris turned his attention to Ron, still unconscious against the sink. Water continued to drip from the faucet, forming a small puddle on the floor beneath the redhead's dangling hand. The boy would wake confused, possibly alarmed by his missing pet, but unharmed. For all Ron's faults in the original timeline, his jealousy, his occasional thoughtlessness, he deserved better than to have unknowingly harbored a Death Eater in his home for years.
"Rennervate," Chris whispered, pointing his wand at Ron from beneath the Invisibility Cloak he had redonned.
Ron stirred, his freckled face scrunching in confusion as consciousness returned. He blinked several times, pushing himself upright with one hand while the other went to his head. "What the..." he mumbled, looking around the empty bathroom with bewilderment. "Did I hit my head?"
His gaze moved to the counter where Scabbers had been, hand patting the surface as though the rat might have hidden nearby. "Scabbers?" he called, voice rising slightly with concern. "Where'd you go, you useless lump?"
Chris backed away silently, watching as Ron checked the floor, then his pockets, growing increasingly confused. "Felt really dizzy," the redhead muttered to himself. "Must've fainted or something... but where's Scabbers gone?"
As Ron continued his increasingly frantic search, Chris slipped toward the door, easing it open just enough to pass through before closing it silently behind him. In the corridor, he checked the Marauder's Map to ensure his path back to the Hufflepuff dormitory remained clear. Ron's dot in the bathroom showed him moving around, likely still searching for his missing "pet."
By this time tomorrow, Ron would understand why Scabbers had disappeared. The entire wizarding world would be talking about Peter Pettigrew's miraculous resurrection and Sirius Black's wrongful imprisonment. Another piece of the broken timeline had been repaired, another injustice corrected. Chris moved through the corridors with the satisfied step of someone who had crossed another item off a very important list.
The wooden steps of his trunk's interior creaked softly as Chris descended into the golden warmth of his pocket dimension. The transition from the cool stone of Hogwarts to this personal sanctuary always brought a subtle shift in his posture, shoulders relaxing, face softening from the controlled mask of an twelve-year-old Hufflepuff into something more natural, more true to his older self. Here, within these magically expanded walls, he could shed pretenses and simply be.
He moved directly to his study, settling into the worn leather armchair behind his desk. The polished surface held several open books on magical theory and a half-written letter to Gringotts regarding his accounts, but Chris pushed these aside to make space for the Marauder's Map. He spread the parchment across the desk and touched his wand to its center.
"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good," he said, voice stronger and deeper than the one he used in the castle above.
Ink spread across the parchment, revealing Hogwarts in all its complexity. Chris's eyes moved immediately to Gryffindor Tower, searching for and finding the dot labeled "Ronald Weasley" now safely returned to his common room. The boy appeared to be sitting with Hermione and Harry, likely recounting his strange experience and missing pet. No professors had been summoned, no alarm raised, exactly as Chris had hoped.
His gaze drifted to the Headmaster's office, where Dumbledore's dot paced in the familiar pattern that had become common since Voldemort's destruction. Back and forth, occasionally pausing near what Chris knew to be the windows overlooking the grounds. The old wizard sensed something fundamental had changed but couldn't identify what or how.
"You'll have another mystery by morning, Headmaster," Chris murmured, a small smile playing at his lips.
He tapped the map again. "Mischief managed," he said, watching as the ink faded into invisibility once more. Chris folded the parchment carefully and set it aside, leaning back in his chair to contemplate what he'd accomplished.
Peter Pettigrew would likely be in Ministry custody within the hour. Amelia Bones, known for her meticulous approach to justice and unimpeachable integrity, would follow the instructions in the letter, not because they compelled her magically, but because they aligned with proper procedure. The Dark Mark on Pettigrew's arm would raise immediate questions about the official story of his "heroic" confrontation with Sirius Black. Veritaserum would extract the truth: his betrayal of the Potters, his framing of Sirius, his years hiding as a rat.
By tomorrow, the wizarding world would face another shock, coming so soon after the unexplained disappearance of Professor Quirrell and the strange magical disturbance that had affected marked Death Eaters. Sirius Black, infamous mass murderer and betrayer of the Potters, would be revealed as innocent. Twelve years of imprisonment without trial would become a scandal that even Fudge's administration couldn't sweep under the rug.
And Harry, Chris's thoughts turned to the green-eyed boy who had suffered so much in the original timeline. Harry would gain a godfather, a link to his parents, someone who genuinely loved him rather than merely protected him for the greater good. No longer would he be solely dependent on Dumbledore's manipulations and the Dursleys' reluctant care.
"A proper family," Chris whispered. "Or the closest thing to it you can have now."
In the original timeline, Sirius had been too damaged by Azkaban and too constrained by being a fugitive to provide Harry with the stable home he needed. This time, with exoneration and proper healing, Sirius might actually become the guardian James and Lily had intended him to be. The implications rippled outward. A more confident Harry, better prepared for his life ahead, a Sirius Black who could reclaim his family's political power and wealth, a shift in the balance of influence away from Dumbledore's complete control over the Boy Who Lived.
And all accomplished through one simple, efficient capture of a rat in a bathroom. The elegant simplicity of it brought a satisfied smile to Chris's face.
Of course, questions would be raised about how Pettigrew had been discovered and delivered to the DMLE. But the anonymous nature of the delivery and the overwhelming evidence of Pettigrew's crimes would quickly shift focus from the mysterious benefactor to the implications of the revelation itself. By the time anyone thought to investigate the delivery method, the trail would be cold, house elf magic leaving no trace to follow.
He rose from his chair and moved to the small sideboard where a crystal decanter of pumpkin juice awaited. In previous years, previous life, he might have poured something stronger to celebrate such a success, but his current body, regardless of his mental age and magical enhancement, remained that of a child. Chris filled a glass and raised it in a silent toast to himself.
Another mission completed.
"Well done, Chris," he murmured to himself. "Perhaps I'll even get to enjoy my next Hogwarts term without secretly saving the world for once."
The thought brought a genuine laugh, echoing through the study that had witnessed so much planning and now, finally, celebrated success.