The Haunting of Peter Pettigrew

Into the Past

In his sixth year, Harry was given special lessons by Dumbledore. He was meant to be looking at memories in the Pensieve that the Headmaster kept in his office, and he was to learn about what had happened before. He was learning, Harry knew, about Voldemort himself. It was after one such lesson, when Harry was overwhelmed by the darkness of what he'd just witnessed, that Dumbledore decided to change their arrangement.

"If you would like," Dumbledore began, "I think that there is someone else's story that you should see."

"Who's story?" he asked curiously. Watching him closely, Harry observed the Headmaster return to the vials and pull out one of two with the same label. Carefully, as if it were a precious thing, Dumbledore brought the vial over to the Pensive.

"It is better," the Headmaster said gently, "that you see for yourself. A word of caution, however...the faces will be much more familiar to you."

Harry nodded, his mind immediately going to his parents. Together he once again followed Dumbledore into the Mysteries of the Pensive.

"Let me do it, Lily. I'll be the Secret Keeper," Harry heard the familiar female voice as he struggled to get his bearings.

They were in a house that Harry had never seen before, except in pictures. It had light blue walls, no windows, and a long mahogany table at which sat at least twenty chairs. The table was scattered in parchment and quills as well as some maps and books, all strewn about haphazardly. After a moment, Harry realized where they were: the original headquarters for the Order of the Phoenix.

"Professor..." Harry trailed off, "Are we-" but the bark of laughter, the sound that had kept him awake for so many hours that summer, the sound that echoed in his mind over and over, drew his attention immediately.

"SIRIUS!" Harry exclaimed, taking in the sight of his Godfather.

Before this memory, Harry hadn't truly appriciated what Azkaban and grief had done to Sirius Black. The man before him wasn't half-crazed and desperate to be of use. He wasn't bogged down by death and darkness. He wasn't nearly starved to skin and bones and as colorless as a ghost. No.

This man stood up straight, eyes sparkling with pure laughter, not a hint of bitterness etched into his open expression. His feet were planted in the ground, sure of their footing as sure as they were of their place in the world. His skin was tanned from hours outside and he exuded health and vitality. This was a different Sirius Black entirely from the one he knew, and that made Harry just a bit more sad.

Then, Harry saw the man his Godfather was laughing with, none other than James Potter himself. Harry saw the resemblance, as he had in Professor Snape's memories and in the photographs. But, unlike the last memory he'd seen of James Potter, the man appeared to be older than the fifteen year old bully he'd seen. James was still laughing, but his laughter was softer and his amusement wasn't cruel...just funny. He had maturity about him that reassured Harry that he might have been a jerk at school but people did change and they did grow up.

Sirius and James were laughing in a corner and Harry talked himself into looking around. Thats when he saw the other two people talking. Two women sat at the end of the long table. A baby giggled in one woman's arms as they spoke in quiet hushed voices so as not to be overheard by the men.

"MUM!" Harry exclaimed, seeing Lily Potter clearly and his eyes zeroed in on her, desperate for what small pieces of her he could get. She was even more beautiful than she'd been in her pictures and like James, she had grown up. Her green eyes, his eyes, were kind and had a worried edge to them as she spoke to her companion.

Only when he saw a baby, himself, giggle and reach for the woman in the chair across from Lily did Harry see the notice the identity of the other woman, the one who'd spoken when he'd first arrived.