The morning sunlight danced through the enchanted ceiling of the Great Hall, spilling across the Hufflepuff table where Chris buttered his toast. Beside him, Susan arranged her scrambled eggs into neat little piles, a habit she claimed helped her organize her thoughts for the day ahead. Her red-blonde hair caught the light, turning it to burnished copper as she leaned toward Hannah, who was reciting Herbology facts from memory with the intensity of someone who believed breakfast conversations should never be wasted on trivialities.
"The proper harvesting time for Bouncing Bulbs is during the waning gibbous moon," Hannah insisted, her finger tapping against a dog-eared textbook. "Professor Sprout specifically mentioned it affects their elasticity."
Susan nodded absently, her attention drifting to Chris, who had been unusually quiet this morning. "You seem distracted. Still thinking about that Transfiguration essay?"
Chris looked up, the hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "Just enjoying the relative peace. It's been a while since anything exciting happened around here."
The irony of his statement hung in the air between them, undetected by his friends but deliciously satisfying to Chris. It had been exactly eighteen hours since he'd arranged for Peter Pettigrew's delivery to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Enough time for interrogation, verification, and the beginning of what would undoubtedly be a seismic shift in the wizarding world's understanding of recent history.
The familiar rustling of wings drew his eyes upward. The morning mail arrived with its usual fluttering urgency, but today something was different. Instead of the regular assortment of family owls, a veritable cloud of identical barn owls swept into the hall, each carrying the same rolled newspaper. The sheer number was unusual, special editions of the Daily Prophet were rare, typically reserved for world-changing events.
"That's odd," Hannah remarked, closing her Herbology book as a newspaper dropped onto the table before her with a soft thud. Similar papers landed across the hall in rapid succession, like raindrops in a sudden shower.
Chris reached for the Prophet with deliberate casualness, though his heart quickened slightly. The headline sprawled across the front page in bold, dramatic lettering:
PETER PETTIGREW FOUND ALIVE
SIRIUS BLACK INNOCENT OF POTTER BETRAYAL
MINISTRY ANNOUNCES IMMEDIATE REVIEW OF AZKABAN CASE
Beneath the headline, a magical photograph showed a disheveled, rat-faced man in Ministry holding cells, his hands bound with what Chris recognized as the very same magic-suppressing cuffs he had placed there. The man's eyes darted frantically, his mouth moving in what appeared to be desperate pleas.
"Merlin's beard," Susan breathed, leaning in so close that her shoulder pressed against Chris's. "Sirius Black is innocent? But everyone knows he betrayed the Potters and killed all those Muggles."
"Apparently not," Chris replied, carefully modulating his tone to reflect appropriate surprise rather than the satisfaction thrumming through him. "It says here Pettigrew was found alive yesterday, delivered anonymously to Madam Bones herself."
Hannah grabbed the paper, her eyes growing wider with each paragraph she read aloud: "Pettigrew, long believed murdered by Black along with twelve Muggles, was discovered to bear the Dark Mark of You-Know-Who's followers. Under Veritaserum questioning, he confessed to betraying the location of James and Lily Potter, framing Sirius Black, and living in disguise as a rat Animagus for twelve years."
Susan's hand found Chris's under the table, her fingers curling around his in an unconscious gesture of shock. He returned the pressure gently, that simple touch conveying more than he could say aloud.
Around them, the Great Hall erupted into a symphony of exclamations. A Ravenclaw prefect stood on her bench, reading sections of the article to wide-eyed housemates. At the Gryffindor table, several students had gathered around Harry Potter, whose face reflected a complex mixture of emotions, shock, confusion, and something that looked remarkably like hope.
"Look at Potter," Hannah whispered. "I can't imagine how he must feel right now."
Chris nodded, keeping his expression appropriately sympathetic while secretly savoring the sight. In the original timeline, Harry hadn't discovered Sirius's innocence until much later, under far more traumatic circumstances. This revelation, coming now while Harry was safe at Hogwarts, surrounded by supportive friends, represented a significant improvement.
The Slytherin table provided a stark contrast. Several students, particularly those from families with Death Eater connections, had gone noticeably pale. Draco Malfoy sat frozen, the newspaper before him apparently forgotten as he stared into space, likely calculating how this news might affect his family's standing.
"I can't believe Pettigrew was hiding all this time," Susan said, reclaiming the paper from Hannah and scanning further down the article. "It says he's been living as... a pet rat? With a wizarding family? How bizarre is that?"
"The Ministry is launching a full investigation into Black's imprisonment without trial," Hannah added, reading over Susan's shoulder. "Minister Fudge is quoted as being 'deeply concerned about this potential miscarriage of justice' and promising 'swift corrective action.'"
Chris suppressed a snort. Fudge would be scrambling to distance himself from the scandal, despite having been perfectly content with Black's imprisonment until now. Political self-preservation at its most transparent.
"I wonder what this means for Professor Dumbledore," Chris mused aloud, allowing himself this one indulgence. "He was Chief Warlock when Black was sent to Azkaban without a trial."
Susan frowned thoughtfully. "My aunt always says even the best systems can fail. Though she's also very strict about proper procedure..." Her voice trailed off as she continued reading. "Oh! There's a section here about how this might connect to other recent strange events."
Chris tensed slightly, though his face remained neutral. "What does it say?"
"Just speculation really," Susan replied. "They're wondering if Pettigrew's reappearance might be connected to Professor Quirrell's continued absence due to what the school called 'urgent family matters.' And there's a mention about Professor Snape being in the hospital wing, though Madam Pomfrey refuses to comment on his condition."
Chris nodded thoughtfully, satisfaction settling deep in his chest. Three missions completed: Voldemort destroyed, the Horcrux removed from Harry, and now Pettigrew captured.
At the staff table, Dumbledore watched the hall with an unreadable expression, his half-moon spectacles reflecting the morning light. Beside him, McGonagall appeared shaken, her usually stern composure cracking as she read about her former students, the betrayer and the betrayed. The contrast between her genuine distress and Dumbledore's careful neutrality told Chris everything he needed to know about their respective priorities.
"It's like something out of a storybook," Hannah whispered. "The wrongly accused godfather, the secret betrayer... Poor Harry Potter, finding out after all these years that his parents' real betrayer was alive all this time."
Susan squeezed Chris's hand again, this time with deliberate meaning. "At least now the truth is out," she said. "That's what matters, right?"
Chris met her eyes and nodded, allowing himself a small, genuine smile. "Yes," he agreed softly. "The truth always finds its way to the surface eventually."
The Great Hall transformed into a living organism of whispers and exclamations, hundreds of conversations overlapping as the news of Pettigrew's capture rippled through the student body. Newspapers rustled as pages were turned, passages read aloud, theories exchanged across house tables that suddenly seemed more permeable than usual. Even the enchanted ceiling appeared to respond to the collective excitement, its blue expanse occasionally flashing with sympathetic streaks of gold, as though magic itself recognized the significance of this moment.
"Listen to this!" A Gryffindor girl with dark braids climbed onto her bench, holding the Prophet aloft like a herald announcing a royal proclamation. Her voice carried across the hall, cutting through the noise. "'Peter Pettigrew, presumed dead for twelve years, was discovered to have been living in his Animagus form as a common garden rat. Sources within the Department of Magical Law Enforcement confirm that Pettigrew had integrated himself into a wizarding household, where he remained hidden in plain sight while an innocent man suffered in Azkaban.'"
She paused for dramatic effect, her eyes wide with the delicious scandal of it all. "Can you believe it? Living with a wizard family all this time! Sleeping in their houses, eating their food, probably listening to every private conversation they ever had!"
The implications sent a fresh wave of chatter through the hall. Students began examining their own pets with new suspicion, as though any cat or toad might suddenly reveal itself as a disguised dark wizard.
Hannah gasped suddenly, her fork clattering against her plate. "Oh! Wasn't Ron Weasley's rat missing recently? He was complaining about it in Herbology yesterday!"
Susan's head whipped toward the Gryffindor table, where Ron sat surrounded by housemates, his freckled face ash-white as he clutched the newspaper with visibly trembling hands.
"You're right," Susan whispered, leaning closer to Hannah and Chris. "Look at him, he looks absolutely horrified."
Chris maintained a carefully neutral expression while following their gaze. The redhead indeed looked devastated, alternately staring at the photograph of Pettigrew and burying his face in his hands. Beside him, Harry Potter appeared equally stunned, his green eyes wide behind his round glasses as he kept rereading sections of the article.
"Imagine discovering your pet was actually..." Hannah shuddered, unable to complete the thought.
"A Death Eater responsible for orphaning your best friend," Chris finished quietly, allowing himself this small acknowledgment of the truth. "No wonder Weasley looks sick."
Across the hall, the reactions varied dramatically by house and family background. Chris noted with interest that Theodore Nott had subtly separated himself from his fellow Slytherins, his thin face revealing nothing as he methodically folded his newspaper and tucked it into his bag. Pansy Parkinson appeared to be on the verge of tears, whispering frantically to Draco Malfoy, whose normally pale complexion had taken on an almost ghostly quality.
At the staff table, Dumbledore sat with perfect composure, his long fingers steepled before him as he surveyed the chaos with an expression that revealed nothing of his thoughts. Yet Chris, watching carefully, noticed the slight tension in the old wizard's shoulders, the way his eyes kept drifting toward Harry Potter, calculations almost visibly running behind those half-moon spectacles.
Beside him, Professor McGonagall made no attempt to hide her distress. The normally stern witch dabbed at the corner of her eye with a tartan handkerchief, her other hand clutching the newspaper so tightly that the knuckles had turned white. She had taught them all, James, Lily, Sirius, Remus, and Peter, had watched their friendship develop, never suspecting that one would betray the others so completely.
"I wonder how they caught him," Susan mused, turning back to Chris and Hannah. "The article says he was delivered anonymously to Aunt Amelia's office, but doesn't explain how someone recognized him after all these years."
Chris shrugged casually, taking a deliberate sip of pumpkin juice before answering. "Someone must have recognized him and tipped off Madam Bones. Maybe he transformed back to human form when he thought no one was watching." He paused, then added thoughtfully, "Or perhaps his rat form started showing signs of age. Rats don't typically live twelve years, do they?"
"Definitely not," Hannah confirmed, her extensive knowledge of magical creatures apparently extending to mundane ones as well. "Three years is considered elderly for a common garden rat. Even magical familiars rarely exceed seven or eight years."
Susan nodded, seemingly satisfied with this explanation. "I wonder what this means for Harry Potter now. If Sirius Black is innocent and was his godfather..."
The conversation paused as Professor McGonagall rose from the staff table and cleared her throat, her voice magnified to reach every corner of the hall. "Students, please proceed to your first classes. I understand today's news is extraordinarily surprising, but education must continue. Prefects, please ensure an orderly departure."
The announcement prompted a reluctant shuffling as students gathered their things, though the excited chatter showed no signs of abating. If anything, the prospect of discussing the news in class seemed to energize everyone further.
"We'd better hurry," Hannah said, tucking her Herbology textbook into her bag. "We have Charms first, and Professor Flitwick gets squeaky when people are late."
As they stood to leave, Susan gave Chris a curious look. "You don't seem as shocked as everyone else."
Chris allowed himself a small smile. "I've always thought there was something off about the Sirius Black story. Too convenient, you know? A pureblood heir from a family like the Blacks turning against his friends without a proper motive." He shouldered his bag, adding casually, "Besides, after Professor Quirrell disappearing and Snape getting sent to the hospital wing, I think I'm developing a higher threshold for surprise."
They joined the stream of students flowing toward the exit, the conversations around them still dominated by speculation about Pettigrew, Black, and what it all meant for the wizarding world. Chris walked between Susan and Hannah, his posture relaxed, his expression appropriately interested but not overly invested.
As they passed through the massive doorway of the Great Hall, Chris glanced back at the staff table where Dumbledore remained seated, watching the departing students with an intensity that suggested he sensed the subtle shifting of powers and influence occurring beneath the surface of these events.
'Your move, Headmaster,' Chris thought, before turning his attention to the day ahead, just another Hufflepuff first-year heading to Charms class on what had unexpectedly become a historic morning in the wizarding world.