Hogwarts: Harry Potter’s Return from the Witcher World

Dumbledore studied Peter's severed head for a moment. "Sirius knew all of this. They were once close classmates. But Harry, how did you find out?"

"I have a brain," Harry said flatly.

Sirius took another deep sip from his glass, downing half its contents.

"During the summer, Ron mentioned Scabbers—that's Peter in his rat form—and he mentioned its age," Harry explained. "Thirteen years. Hermione and I started suspecting something then."

"Later, I pressed Lupin and learned that they were all unregistered Animagi."

Scrimgeour's eyes widened, and his hand instinctively moved toward his wand.

Three unregistered Animagi? What a career-defining catch!

But he quickly adjusted his thoughts.

Two of them were dead, and the third had far bigger charges against him than just being an unregistered Animagus.

Harry continued, "Peter being a rat matched up with everything about Scabbers."

"Lupin and I caught him and kept him locked in the office. Professor Dumbledore, the 'secret' I mentioned to you before was this."

Dumbledore smiled. "You did say you'd tell me in two weeks. It's been nearly three months."

"If I had told you earlier, you might have trusted the Ministry," Harry replied, shaking his head.

Scrimgeour gritted his teeth. "The Ministry is always trustworthy."

Harry let out a derisive laugh.

Sirius also shook his head, while Lupin, though more reserved, clearly shared the sentiment.

"And how did Peter die?" Dumbledore asked, sitting straighter and adjusting his glasses. His sapphire-blue eyes behind the reflective lenses locked onto Harry.

"I killed him," Harry replied directly.

Dumbledore froze for a moment before exhaling heavily. His posture slackened. "I half-expected you to concoct some elaborate excuse. Killing someone is never a light matter."

"But avenging your parents—well, that's a different matter altogether."

Harry tilted his head slightly. "Professor, you surprise me. I thought you might lecture me."

Dumbledore looked back at Peter's head, nodding slowly. "Ordinarily, I would oppose using violence to solve problems. I believe in letting the Ministry handle things."

"But this case is… different."

"And you, Harry, are different."

Dumbledore's expression grew heavy, as if burdened by old memories.

Harry noticed but chose not to comment.

Scrimgeour, on the other hand, was visibly uncomfortable.

On the one hand, nothing could be more legitimate than a son avenging his parents.

But on the other hand, Harry had bypassed the Ministry and killed someone.

"Mr. Potter," Scrimgeour began hesitantly, glancing at Dumbledore as though seeking support.

Harry cut him off sharply. "The Ministry can frame it this way: I discovered Peter's conspiracy, he attacked me, and I was forced to defend myself. Unfortunately, he died in the process."

He paused briefly before adding, "The traces of battle you saw earlier were the aftermath of my fight with Peter."

Scrimgeour swallowed his initial response and shifted his approach. "How can we verify that what you're saying is true? And not just a fabrication by Black or Lupin?"

He hesitated before adding, "I must remind you that your Uncle Lupin is—"

"A werewolf?" Harry interrupted, his tone sharp and impatient. "I'm aware, and I've already said—I have a brain."

Scrimgeour blinked in astonishment.

A werewolf! The kind of dark magical creature that could turn others with a single bite.

He glanced toward Hermione and Ron, expecting shock or fear.

But neither seemed surprised.

Hermione simply observed quietly, while Ron played with his owl.

Lupin sighed softly, showing no visible reaction. He was used to this kind of prejudice.

Harry retrieved a small vial from the Sorting Hat and levitated it to Dumbledore's desk with a flick of his wand. "Before I killed Peter, I extracted this from his mind."

Scrimgeour hesitated. "You mean before you were forced to defend yourself, right?"

Harry turned to him, his eyes cold and piercing.

Scrimgeour quickly looked away, muttering, "Fine, fine. Let's go with that."

"Is that… a memory?" Dumbledore asked, surprised.

Harry nodded.

"It seems I must inform Minister Fudge," Dumbledore said, waving his wand to draft a letter on a piece of parchment. "Fawkes, I'll need your help."

Fawkes let out a disgruntled squawk, glaring at Hedwig, who was perched comfortably on Crookshanks.

Hedwig flew to Harry's shoulder, cooing softly.

Fawkes squawked louder in irritation but ultimately hopped onto the desk. After delivering a sharp peck to Dumbledore's hand in protest, the phoenix grudgingly picked up the letter and soared out the window.

Less than thirty minutes later, Fudge burst into the office. His voice arrived ahead of him.

"Dumbledore! What kind of trouble have you stirred up now? Sirius Black confessed! How can you possibly—"

His words cut off abruptly as his gaze landed on the severed head.

The flush from his brisk climb up the stairs drained instantly, leaving him pale. He stumbled backward, bumping into a cabinet.

"Professor, is this some new hobby of yours?" Fudge asked shakily, pulling out a handkerchief to dab his sweat.

"That is Peter Pettigrew," Dumbledore said calmly.

Fudge's expression hardened. "Another student victim? But in your letter, you said Black was innocent—"

Dumbledore tapped the desk. "That is Peter Pettigrew."

Fudge froze, the name triggering a distant memory. After a moment, his eyes widened. "Peter Pettigrew? You're joking. He's…"

Harry interrupted. "Minister, perhaps you should sit down. This will take some explaining."

Fudge sat reluctantly as Harry recounted the events from start to finish.

When Harry concluded, Fudge was visibly agitated, his brow furrowed deeply.

"Potter," Fudge finally said, "you've given the Ministry quite the mess."

"For thirteen years, Black has been declared guilty. That's a settled matter. Now you're telling me he's innocent? Merlin's beard!"

Fudge buried his face in his hands. He could already picture the headlines in the Daily Prophet, mocking the Ministry's incompetence. His approval ratings would plummet, and calls for his resignation would surely follow.

"Minister," Harry said calmly, leaning forward with his hands folded. "Sirius Black being exonerated could actually be a boon for you."

Fudge blinked, startled. "How so?"

"The Ministry's incompetence is a well-known fact," Harry began.

Fudge's eyes narrowed, his face darkening.

Scrimgeour looked equally displeased.

"But under your wise and noble leadership," Harry continued smoothly, "you've been working tirelessly since 1990 to reform the Ministry, turning it into an efficient and just institution."

Fudge had opened his mouth to argue but paused, intrigued by the sudden shift in tone.

"And what better way to prove that than by correcting the mistakes of the past? Under your guidance, the Ministry has uncovered the truth behind a long-buried case, exposing the failures of previous administrations."

"You'll be the hero who righted the wrongs, who restored the honor of Sirius Black, the last heir of the noble House of Black. All while unmasking Peter Pettigrew, the true traitor and murderer of my parents."

"And let's not forget," Harry added, "that Pettigrew was killed while attempting to harm me—justified self-defense."

Harry leaned back, watching Fudge's expression shift.

The minister's eyes gleamed as the implications sank in. A narrative that painted him as the hero of the hour, completely sidelining Dumbledore.

"You're absolutely right, Potter," Fudge declared, standing and puffing out his chest. "The Ministry exists to serve justice and protect the innocent!"

He turned to Scrimgeour. "Rufus, retrieve Pettigrew's body and the vial of evidence."

Scrimgeour nodded stiffly. "Yes, Minister."

Fudge's gaze shifted. "Where's Black?"

A heavy thud sounded beside him.

"I'm here," Sirius muttered, rubbing his head where he'd just bumped into the wall.

Fudge turned, offering Sirius a warm smile. "Rest assured, Mr. Black, the Ministry will see that your name is cleared."

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Powerstones?

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