Sirius only grew angrier as he spoke, and launched a flurry of punches at Peter Pettigrew.
He hit him without restraint, each blow leaving Pettigrew dizzy and seeing stars.
Even then Sirius didn't feel satisfied; he grabbed Pettigrew by the throat as if he meant to strangle him to death.
Arthur watched the scene and couldn't help but think: no wonder Sirius was Harry's godfather — even his way of venting was exactly the same. He stepped in and stopped Sirius's hand.
"Enough. Don't kill him. What happens to him is Harry's decision."
Harry stared at Pettigrew, torn. As Secret-Keeper, Pettigrew had betrayed the Potters and indirectly caused their deaths — Harry wanted justice, even vengeance. Yet he could not bring himself to strike a man down. He had been raised in a world with laws.
"Arthur, what do you suggest?" Harry asked.
"You could kill him now," Arthur said bluntly. "If you can't bring yourself to do it, Sirius could do it. Or — you could have Pettigrew sent to Azkaban. That would also clear Sirius's name and remove the warrant for his arrest." Arthur laid out the options plainly.
Harry looked to Sirius for guidance.
"Sirius, don't think of me. He helped kill your friends; you should kill him. If you won't, I will," Sirius snarled, his eyes burning with hatred.
The Black family bore a certain trait — a devotion that bordered on obsession. Having been tortured in Azkaban for over a decade, Sirius's mind had frayed; his judgment was clouded by years of suffering.
Dumbledore intervened quietly. "Harry, do not let hatred blind you."
He did not want the boy chosen by fate to become ruled by vengeance. Yet Dumbledore quickly learned how costly it is to stop another's desire for revenge.
Harry hesitated long and hard, then chose mercy. He spared Pettigrew. He prized clearing his godfather's name above immediate retribution.
In the end, Harry asked Dumbledore to negotiate with the Ministry to withdraw the warrant against Sirius and restore his innocence.
Dumbledore had not expected the task to fall to him; he had planned to depart for the Albanian forest the next day in search of Voldemort. It seemed tonight he would have to work through the night.
So, Dumbledore hurried to Fudge with Pettigrew in tow. Arthur, having seen matters resolved, returned to the dormitory to sleep. Harry went back to his own bed. Sirius, however, would need to stay in hiding until the warrant was formally lifted.
The next day Harry received a letter from Dumbledore — the Headmaster himself was already en route to the Albanian forest. The letter said Cornelius Fudge would withdraw the warrant and restore Sirius's name, but the Ministry would not publicize the matter.
That made sense. Publicizing the truth would be an admission of incompetence: the Ministry had prosecuted the wrong man and imprisoned him for more than a decade. Fudge had presided over the original affair; broadcasts that aired his failure would be humiliating. Fudge was a vain man — he would rather fix things quietly than make a spectacle of his own errors.
Harry was displeased at the low profile, but he accepted the result. At least the bounty was gone, and the Dementors would soon be gone as well. He ran to tell Arthur the good news.
Arthur was surprised the Ministry had agreed so readily; this was a black mark on Fudge's reputation. The Department of Magical Law Enforcement had wasted enormous effort — and even released Dementors for the task — but failed to find Sirius. Yet two schoolchildren had unveiled the truth within a day.
Arthur had assumed Fudge would delay or bury the truth. That he didn't suggested a bargain with Dumbledore. The Sirius case had always been suspicious: when he was arrested, there had been no proper hearing — even Death Eaters were usually subjected to official procedure. A wand's memory could reveal spells like an explosion charm; the Ministry should have checked Pettigrew's wand. Instead they marched Sirius to Azkaban saying he had gone mad and needed no trial. A flimsy pretext.
Arthur suspected Dumbledore might have been involved: Dumbledore knew the protective magic Lily had cast over Harry, and he might have decided that the best environment for Harry was with the Dursleys. Sirius's presence complicated that arrangement because as godfather he could claim guardianship. Perhaps Dumbledore cut a deal with Fudge: exile Sirius in exchange for Harry's safety. It was the sort of cold calculus Arthur had learned to expect from men who spoke of "greater goods."
But Arthur didn't waste time dwelling on Dumbledore's motives. He was more curious about what the System had handed him overnight. After returning, a notification had pinged: he had earned the Third-Year "Wizard's Apprentice" achievement, and the System granted him a new mini-game — MeowQuest: Dragon Hunter.
No joke: that was the actual title. The game was set in a cat-filled world — an open-action RPG where the player controlled a cat seeking out the evil Dracos and rescuing a kidnapped sister. It was cute, casual, and mechanically traditional: monsters to beat, loot to collect. Nothing of obvious use to Arthur's current predicament.
Still, mini-games came with completion rewards. Arthur installed it onto everyone's iPad and to his surprise the class loved it — the girls adored the adorable art and the boys enjoyed loot and leveling. Even Ranni was hooked.
Thus the new term began with Arthur's game leading the way.
That day Hermione came to Arthur, a small golden pocket-watch pendant in hand, a smug little smile on her face.
"Cousin, look—what do you think this is?" she asked.
Arthur took the pendant. A tiny hourglass rattled within; Arthur felt a familiar tug of temporal power — the same current he often manipulated in the Zen Garden.
"A Time-Turner? Professor McGonagall gave you one?"
Hermione's proud expression evaporated. She had hoped to surprise Arthur, to boast of a secret in front of him. Instead he saw straight through it.
"You already knew?" she pouted. "Is there anything you don't know, cousin?"
Arthur tapped her on the head playfully. "Hey, little one — where do you get all these schemes? Do you think I'd let you embarrass yourself?"
Hermione stuck out her tongue but said nothing. She couldn't exactly admit she merely wanted to see Arthur bested at something, not have him humiliated — that was too petty.
Arthur didn't press. Instead he asked, "So why did Professor McGonagall give you that? As far as I know, Time-Turners can't be used for non-academic purposes."
He was referring to Ministry regulations: obtaining a Time-Turner required the professor to file guarantees that the student would only use it for study, and the Ministry strictly limited their use. Secret, private use was possible — if you could avoid detection — but officially such devices were reserved for coursework and exams.
Arthur found it odd that McGonagall would entrust Hermione with one.
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