Luciscura / Fred Weasley

The night was cold and moonless, the air thick with damp earth and secrecy.

Lettie, Fred, and George moved swiftly through the overgrown graveyard outside a forgotten village in Cornwall, wands drawn and footsteps silent.

Lettie knelt beside a weathered headstone, brushing dirt away with her gloved hands. "This is it," she murmured.

Fred, standing watch, cast a glance around. "I feel like we should be making ghost jokes right now, but considering what we're doing..."

George sighed. "This is grave digging, Freddie. Even we have limits."

Lettie smirked. "That's a first."

Fred placed a hand over his heart. "You wound me, love."

Lettie ignored him and aimed her wand at the loose soil. "Defodio."

The earth parted effortlessly, shifting aside to reveal a casket. She swallowed, her heartbeat steady despite the eerie sight.

"There," George pointed, his voice low. A small, severed finger lay inside the old casket.

Lettie took a deep breath and reached for it, grasping it carefully in her gloved fingers. Magic still clung to it, faint but unmistakable.

Fred peered over her shoulder. "So that's all that's left of Peter Pettigrew."

Lettie placed the bone into a black silk pouch, tightening the drawstrings. "Not for long."

They filled the grave back up, leaving no trace behind.

Back at Hogwarts, they gathered in Helga Hufflepuff's hidden chamber, the flickering lanterns casting long shadows against the stone walls.

In the center of the room, Lettie had drawn an intricate ritual circle in silver chalk. Ancient runes spiraled outward, glowing faintly with dark energy.

Fred and George exchanged a glance.

They weren't unfamiliar with risky magic, but this? This was another level.

"Last chance to back out," Lettie said, rolling up her sleeves.

Fred grinned. "Are you kidding? This is our kind of insanity."

George nudged her. "Just don't accidentally summon something worse."

Lettie placed Pettigrew's finger in the center of the circle. Then, taking a silver knife, she pressed it to her palm, slicing just enough to draw blood.

She let the scarlet drops fall onto the bone.

The runes flared to life.

"Come forth, Peter Pettigrew, summoned by blood and magic. Come forth and answer for your crimes."

The room shuddered. The air turned ice-cold. Shadows flickered unnaturally, twisting in ways they shouldn't.

Then—a burst of dark smoke.

A screeching wail echoed through the chamber as Pettigrew's form materialized within the ritual circle. He collapsed to his knees, gasping for breath. His ratty hair was disheveled, his eyes wide with terror.

"What—what have you done?!" he shrieked, clawing at the magical boundary.

Lettie stepped forward, her moss-green eyes glinting with something dark. "Hello, Peter."

Fred twirled his wand. "You weren't too hard to find. You really should have kept all your fingers."

Pettigrew's gaze darted between them. "Y-you don't know what you're doing—"

"Oh, we do," George said, tone deceptively light. "And we're about to make sure you never run again."

Before Pettigrew could react, three Stunning Spells hit him in quick succession.

He crumpled to the floor.

Lettie stepped into the circle and pressed a hand to Pettigrew's chest.

With a flick of her wrist, she traced a golden sigil over his heart.

The rat's transformation began immediately. His limbs twisted, shrinking, fur bursting from his skin until he was nothing more than a squealing grey rat.

Fred held up a small, enchanted cage, its bars shimmering with protective magic. "Special order from our shop-in-progress," he said proudly.

Lettie lifted the stunned rat by the scruff of its neck and dropped it inside. The moment the cage clicked shut, the air hummed with finality.

"Unbreakable. Not even a rat Animagus is getting out of this," George added.

Lettie exhaled, stepping back to admire their work. They had him.

Fred slung an arm around her shoulder. "You, my dear, are terrifyingly brilliant."

Lettie smirked. "Tell me something I don't know."

George grinned. "So what's next?"

Lettie's gaze flickered to the caged rat.

The evidence they needed to clear Sirius Black was finally within their grasp.

She lifted the cage.

"Now? We change history."

While Lettie and the twins executed their dangerous plan, Harry had been working on his own.

Inside the Gryffindor common room, he sat at a desk, parchment spread before him, quill hovering. His brow was furrowed in concentration.

He had spent days researching, and everything pointed to one person—the one witch in the Ministry who was fair enough to listen and powerful enough to do something.

Madam Amelia Bones.
Taking a deep breath, he began writing.

Dear Madam Bones,
My name is Harry Potter. I am writing to you regarding the case of Sirius Black. I believe he was wrongly imprisoned without a trial, and I have evidence to prove it...

His quill scratched furiously across the parchment. He explained everything carefully—how Sirius was accused of betraying the Potters, how Peter Pettigrew had faked his own death, how there were holes in the Ministry's investigation.

He just needed her to listen.

Once finished, he sealed the letter and sent it off with Hedwig.

Now, all he could do was wait.