Chapter 3

The operations center of S.H.I.E.L.D. was buzzing like a beehive on Red Bull. Agents were darting around like caffeinated squirrels, monitors flickered with live feeds from every corner of the globe, and the air was as thick with tension as it was with that one guy's cologne that everyone avoids.

In his office, Director Nick Fury was knee-deep in classified reports, looking like he was about to solve a complex Sudoku puzzle. The door creaked open, and in walked Agent Phil Coulson, who managed to look both calm and like he'd just discovered a surprise party.

"Director Fury," Coulson said, handing over a tablet with the seriousness of someone presenting the last piece of pizza. "You'll want to see this."

Fury's one good eye, which usually had the look of someone who'd seen it all, widened slightly as he scanned the headline. "Tony Stark adopts a kid? What in the hell?"

"Yep, it's all over the news," Coulson confirmed, barely containing a smirk. "Stark was in London, decided to go full 'Father Knows Best,' and adopted a boy named Harry. They just landed back in LA."

Fury leaned back in his chair like he was trying to process a plot twist in a soap opera. "That's... definitely a curveball. Any other details on this kid?"

"Not much beyond the headlines," Coulson admitted, shrugging as if to say, 'I'm just the messenger.' "He's from an orphanage in London, and Stark's lawyers must have worked some magic to make this happen quickly."

Fury's mind was churning like a blender on high speed. Tony Stark was already a walking, talking wild card, thanks to his genius, his business empire, and his legacy. This new development added a whole new level of unpredictability.

"Coulson, keep an eye on this. I want to know everything about this kid and how he's fitting into Stark's world. And make sure Stark knows we're watching. This could either stabilize him or blow up in our faces."

"Got it, sir," Coulson said, giving a nod before heading out. His exit was as smooth as his entrance.

As Coulson left, Fury set the tablet aside and stared out the window with a look that said, 'I'm plotting, don't disturb me.' He knew Tony Stark was a wild card—capable of brilliant innovation and spectacular screw-ups. This fatherhood thing might just make him more stable or add a whole new set of complications.

Fury stood up and walked over to the massive screen on his wall. With a few taps, he pulled up surveillance footage of Tony's recent escapades. He watched Tony, Harry, and Pepper disembark from the Stark Jet, analyzing their interactions with the intensity of a sports commentator at the Super Bowl.

"Alright, Stark," Fury muttered to himself, "let's see how this new chapter plays out. And if it blows up, you bet I'll be ready with the popcorn."

---

Agent Coulson stormed back into the monitoring room like he was about to kick off the world's most intense game of "Keep Up." The room was a tech-lover's paradise, filled with screens flashing live feeds, media reports, and surveillance footage—a nerd's dream come true.

"Alright, people," Coulson announced, channeling his inner drill sergeant. "We're on high alert. Tony Stark has adopted a kid, and we need to be all over this. Get every shred of data you can and make sure we know everything about this new dynamic duo. Director Fury wants us sharp and ready."

The team, fully aware that when Coulson talks, you listen, immediately dove into action. They tapped away at keyboards and navigated through screens with the precision of a surgeon, as if their lives depended on it. Because, let's face it, in the world of S.H.I.E.L.D., they probably did.

"So, we've got Tony Stark, billionaire genius, and now a dad," one analyst said, shaking his head in disbelief. "What's next? Is he going to start running a daycare?"

Another analyst, already deep into data collection, mumbled, "I've got the latest feeds and background checks on the kid. If Stark sneezes, we'll know about it."

The room buzzed with activity, everyone hustling to meet their new mission. It wasn't just about monitoring Stark anymore; it was about keeping tabs on every little thing in his now more complicated life. The analysts knew their job wasn't just a routine task but a crucial assignment to understand how this new family setup might impact global security—or at least give Fury something to worry about.

As Coulson watched his team work, he couldn't help but think that even in the world of superheroes and supervillains, adopting a kid was one of the wildest plot twists he'd seen. He just hoped that this chapter of Tony Stark's life didn't blow up in everyone's face.

"Alright, folks," Coulson said, rubbing his hands together like he was about to dive into a new comic book series. "Let's get to it. And remember, if anything even remotely exciting happens, I want to be the first to know."

With that, the monitoring room hummed with purpose, ready to tackle whatever came next in Tony Stark's rollercoaster ride of life and fatherhood.

---

Back at Stark Mansion, the scene was as cozy as a holiday special. Tony, Harry, and Pepper were hunkered down in their luxury fortress, the kind of place where even the walls probably had their own backstory. JARVIS, the AI equivalent of a butler with a Ph.D., ensured everything was running smoothly while Tony savored this rare moment of domestic bliss.

Tony watched Harry, who was nose-deep in a book, probably plotting world domination or just figuring out how to outsmart his new dad. Pepper, glowing with that reassuring mom vibe, smiled at Tony like they'd just completed the world's most epic puzzle.

"Everything okay, Tony?" Pepper asked, breaking the moment like a true partner in crime.

Tony, who normally had the emotional depth of a kiddie pool, managed to let out a rare moment of vulnerability. "Yeah," he said, looking almost human for once. "Everything's perfect."

Of course, as blissful as this moment seemed, outside the mansion, S.H.I.E.L.D. was playing their own version of "The Truman Show." Agents were glued to their screens, monitoring every move, because apparently, Tony Stark having a kid was like a reality TV show they couldn't turn off.

"Let's just hope Stark doesn't turn his new parenting skills into a live-action thriller," one agent joked, while another was busy calculating how much caffeine it would take to stay awake for the next round of surveillance.

S.H.I.E.L.D. might be watching Tony's every move like a hawk with a magnifying glass, but for now, they were letting Tony do his dad thing. And as for Tony, well, he was ready to take on this new chapter, even if he didn't quite know what the next page held.

And so, the Stark family settled into their evening of luxury, with Tony and Pepper basking in the glow of their new normal and Harry lost in the pages of his book. Little did they know, their peaceful night was a blip in the grand cosmic scheme of things. Because, let's face it, when you're Tony Stark, life's never really quiet for long.

—

Albus Dumbledore was having one of those "I'm-so-wise-it-hurts" kind of days in his office. Picture a room packed with ancient tomes, magical doodads, and enough flickering candles to make a romantic comedy look like a horror film. The Pensieve was glowing with secrets, sort of like Dumbledore's own personal gossip column.

Just as he was about to dive into a particularly juicy memory, there was a knock. And not the "polite little tap" kind of knock, but the kind that says, "I've got news that'll probably make your day both better and infinitely more complicated."

"Enter," Dumbledore said, his voice echoing like he was auditioning for a role in an epic fantasy saga.

In stomped Mad-Eye Moody, looking like he'd just walked off the set of a gritty war movie. His magical eye spun like it was trying to keep up with the plot of a soap opera.

"I've tracked down the orphanage where Harry was sent," Moody said, sounding like he'd just spent the last hour yelling at a parking meter.

Dumbledore's eyebrows twitched with the excitement of a wizard who'd just discovered a new spell. "And?"

Moody's face contorted into a frown that could scare away stray cats. "Harry's been adopted. The Matron didn't know much, but I used Legilimency to dig deeper. The man who adopted him is Tony Stark."

Dumbledore's eyes widened slightly, probably because Tony Stark sounded like the magical equivalent of a Hollywood blockbuster. "Tony Stark, you say? The name rings a bell. He's quite the big deal in the Muggle world."

"Yeah, but she didn't know where Stark took him," Moody growled. "Tracking him further might be tricky. Stark's got more resources than a dragon's hoard."

Dumbledore leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled in that "I'm planning something diabolical" way he's famous for. "We may need another approach. Sirius Black has a bond with Harry. He could potentially track him down."

Moody's eye nearly popped out of its socket. "Sirius Black? He's still in Azkaban. And the Ministry isn't exactly rolling out the red carpet for us, are they?"

Dumbledore's sigh was like a gust of wind from a forgotten prophecy. "Yes, I've known about Sirius's innocence for some time. The real traitor, Peter Pettigrew, is hiding out as a rat, quite literally."

Moody's frown could have melted steel. "So, you kept Sirius in prison for what? A strategic chess move?"

Dumbledore met Moody's gaze with the intensity of a wizard who'd just been told he couldn't use magic in a no-magic zone. "It was a necessary evil. Harry needed to be hidden and the Blood Wards were the best protection."

Moody growled, sounding like he was auditioning for a role in a medieval epic. "Blood Wards or not, the Dursleys would have been abusive. You knew that."

Dumbledore nodded slowly, looking like someone who'd just been caught cheating at wizard chess. "Yes, it was a harsh necessity. Harry needed to grow up with a certain... humility."

Moody's eyes narrowed. "Playing with people's lives like they're game pieces. That's a dangerous game, Albus."

"It is," Dumbledore admitted, looking like he was about to break into song. "But now we need to free Sirius. He's the key to finding Harry."

Moody's skeptical look could have melted a glacier. "And how do you plan to pull that off?"

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled like he'd just thought of the world's most elaborate prank. "The Ministry's bureaucracy is a tangled web. With the right influence and a bit of truth on our side, we can get Sirius out. Once he's free, he can locate Harry and bring him back."

Moody nodded slowly, probably preparing for the magical equivalent of a rollercoaster ride. "Alright, Albus. I'll help. But remember, we're dealing with people here, not chess pieces."

Dumbledore's smile was the kind that says, "I've got this," even if he's really thinking, "Please don't mess this up." "I never forget that, Alastor. Every move is made with the greater good in mind."

As Moody left, Dumbledore turned back to his Pensieve, pondering the chaotic future like a wizard plotting world domination. For the greater good, he reminded himself. Because when you're a wizard with a grand plan, every challenge is just another step on the road to glory.

—

Down in Stark Mansion's basement, where the workshop looked like a high-tech jungle gym, Tony Stark was elbow-deep in fixing Dum-E. His robotic assistant had more arms than a Dr. Seuss character on an acid trip, and Tony was tweaking it like a mad scientist who'd just discovered caffeine. Meanwhile, Harry was perched on a stool, eyes as wide as a kid in a candy store—well, if the candy store was full of shiny, dangerous gadgets.

"...and this is how we calibrate the arm to ensure it picks up objects accurately," Tony explained, channeling his inner professor with a side of swagger.

Harry was trying his hardest to look like he was following along, but really, he was just messing with a small tool that looked like it should be in a sci-fi movie. Then—BOOM! A magical flare exploded from his hands, sending tools and parts flying like confetti at a New Year's Eve party. The workshop lit up like the Fourth of July had crashed into an electronics store.

Tony, looking like he'd just witnessed a unicorn doing the cha-cha, whipped around. "Whoa, Harry! What the hell was that?"

Harry's expression was a mix of horror and confusion, like he'd just realized he'd accidentally lit the house on fire. "I don't know! I didn't mean to do that."

Before Tony could digest the magical mayhem, a shimmer sliced through the air like someone had pressed the "pause" button on reality. Enter Eliza Crowley, the MACUSA's finest, stepping out like she was on a magical catwalk. Her robes screamed "I'm important," and her face said "I'm here to handle some serious business."

"Good afternoon," she said, her voice smooth like butter on a hot pancake. "My name is Eliza Crowley. I'm here to discuss the recent magical incident. We need to talk about what just happened."

Tony, who was looking like he'd just caught Bigfoot in his backyard, introduced himself. "I'm Tony Stark. This is my son, Harry. I didn't realize he was capable of... magic."

Eliza's eyes locked on Harry's lightning-shaped scar, and her expression said, "Oh boy, this is bigger than a Hollywood blockbuster." "Harry Potter," she murmured, awe and worry dancing in her voice.

Tony raised an eyebrow, looking like someone had just told him that gravity was optional. "Harry Potter? Should I be bracing myself for an epic showdown or what?"

Eliza took a breath, probably wishing she'd had a double shot of espresso before this. "Harry Potter is a major figure in the wizarding world. He survived an attack from the dark wizard Voldemort as a baby. The magic that saved him left that scar. Our monitoring systems caught his accidental magic, so we're here to explain and offer assistance."

Tony's curiosity was piqued, and he looked like a cat that had just spotted a laser pointer. "Alright, so what happened with Harry's birth parents? This story seems like it's got layers."

Eliza nodded, ready to drop some heavy lore. "On Halloween night in 1996, Harry's parents, James and Lily Potter, were killed by Voldemort. The magic that protected Harry left the scar on his forehead. His early years were kept secret because of the danger."

Tony was processing this like he was decrypting an alien transmission. "And Harry ended up in an orphanage. I adopted him recently."

Eliza's demeanor softened, like she'd just taken off a really tight pair of shoes. "Yes, Harry's early years were shrouded in secrecy for his safety. His presence here is a big deal in our magical community due to his past."

Meanwhile, lurking in the shadows of the workshop, S.H.I.E.L.D. agents were busy doing their spy thing. Their surveillance gear, initially meant for something less dramatic, had picked up this entire magical circus. They were probably scribbling notes like, "Magic + Tech = One Hell of a Show."

—

Agent Coulson and his team were glued to their monitors, eyes wide and popcorn at the ready. Fury's orders were as clear as a neon sign: keep tabs on Tony Stark and his newly adopted mini-me. But now, with the MACUSA representative crashing the party, things were spicing up faster than a jalapeño at a chili cook-off.

Coulson turned to Fury, who was eyeing the feed like it was the last season of "Game of Thrones." "Looks like Tony Stark's new kid is some big deal in the wizarding world. We need to stay on top of this."

Fury nodded, his face looking like he'd just chewed on a lemon. "Definitely. We need to understand the full impact of Harry Potter's presence. Be ready for anything that comes our way."

As Eliza wrapped up her chat with Tony, promising to keep in touch for any follow-ups, she strutted out like she was auditioning for a magical runway show. Tony turned to Harry, looking like he'd just discovered his new pet goldfish was a mutant.

"Well, Harry," Tony said, mixing concern with determination like it was his new superpower, "it seems there's more to your past than we thought. But don't sweat it. We'll figure this out together."

Harry, looking like he'd just been told he'd inherited a dragon, stared up at Tony. "What does this mean for us?"

Tony gave him a smile so reassuring it could have been its own Marvel spinoff. "It means we've got a lot to learn and a lot of wild adventures ahead. But whatever comes, we're in it together."

Back in the workshop, as Tony and Harry settled back into their routine, the weight of Harry's epic backstory hung over them like a storm cloud at a picnic. Their future was packed with unknowns, but one thing was crystal clear: their journey was just beginning, and it was going to be wilder than a rollercoaster with no brakes.

—

Hey there, misfits and mavericks! Deadpool here, ready to guide you through a riveting episode of "Tony Stark's Magical Misadventures!" Buckle up as we dive into the basement of Stark Mansion, where Tony Stark—back when he was just a playboy genius without a shiny Iron Man suit—takes a break from his usual shenanigans to deal with some seriously magical bureaucracy.

The basement workshop, or as I like to call it, Tony Stark's "I'm-so-smart-I-don't-need-sleep" zone, has been transformed into a makeshift meeting room. Tony, looking like he's just walked out of a scene from "Genius," stands alongside Harry Potter (the kid with a lightning bolt on his forehead) and Pepper Potts (the one keeping Tony from turning his workshop into a crater).

Suddenly, there's a sparkle in the air—no, not Tony's ego glowing brighter, but the MACUSA representatives making their grand entrance. Eliza Crowley reappears, flanked by Amos Fairchild, the head honcho of Magical Family Affairs. Amos is the kind of guy who probably has a wand in one hand and a stack of paperwork in the other.

"Good afternoon," Fairchild starts, with all the seriousness of a man who's probably seen one too many magical disasters. "Thanks for meeting us on such short notice. We understand this is a delicate situation."

Tony, with his usual flair, replies, "No problem. This is Pepper Potts, my right-hand woman. She keeps me from blowing up the lab and occasionally saves the world."

Pepper, flashing a polite smile, adds, "Nice to meet you."

So, after the pleasantries, the meeting gets underway. Eliza, who looks like she's seen it all, says, "First, we need to address the challenges of raising a magical child. Especially one as significant as Harry Potter."

Tony, who's never missed an opportunity to flaunt his charm, smirks and says, "Significant? Well, he's in good company. I'm kind of a big deal myself."

Fairchild, not in the mood for Tony's shenanigans, says, "Mr. Stark, Harry's fame in the wizarding world is massive. He's known as 'The Boy Who Lived,' a symbol of hope and resilience. This comes with unique challenges, including the need for privacy and protection."

Pepper, who's probably thinking, "I should have stayed in bed," asks, "So, what do we need to do to keep him safe?"

Eliza leans in like she's about to drop the bombshell. "First off, we need to keep Harry's presence in the US a secret. The fact that he ended up in an orphanage reflects poorly on Wizarding Britain. We can't risk exposing him to more danger."

Tony's eyes light up with mischief and determination. "Got it. We'll keep it under wraps. But what about the daily challenges? You mentioned something about technology and magic not getting along."

Fairchild nods, looking like he's about to school Tony on magical technology issues. "Yes, magical children tend to cause technological devices to malfunction. It's known as 'Muggle technology interference.'"

Tony's grin widens, like he's just been handed a new toy. "Sounds like a challenge! I love challenges. I'll make technology and magic work together like a perfectly orchestrated symphony."

Pepper, with her best "I hope you know what you're doing" look, says, "Are you sure about that, Tony?"

Tony, with the confidence of a man who's never heard the word "no," replies, "Absolutely. Harry already drew me a picture of a world where magic and technology coexist. I'm going to make that a reality."

Eliza and Fairchild exchange glances that say, "Here we go." Fairchild says, "If anyone can pull this off, Mr. Stark, it's you. But remember, Harry's safety and well-being come first."

Tony, looking all paternal and soft, says, "Of course. That's a given."

Fairchild continues, "We also need to discuss Harry's education. He'll need proper magical training. While there are schools for magic in the US, it's something we'll need to plan carefully."

Pepper chimes in, "We need to balance that with his regular education too. Harry's still a child and deserves as normal a life as possible."

Eliza nods, looking like she's ready to tackle the magical education system. "We can assist in finding a suitable magical tutor who can work with Harry here, in addition to his regular schooling."

Tony, always with an eye on innovation, raises his hand like a kid asking for extra recess. "Actually, can you provide references for someone who could act as a liaison? Someone who can help us navigate the Wizarding World and also be a guinea pig for my magical experiments?"

Eliza blinks, surprised but amused. "I believe we can find someone for that role. It's unconventional, but given your unique situation, it's understandable."

Fairchild adds, "We'll look into it and get back to you with recommendations. It's important that the liaison understands both worlds well."

As the meeting wraps up, Tony feels that familiar thrill of a new project. The road ahead is full of obstacles, but he's determined to make it work. The MACUSA representatives leave, promising to stay in touch and ensure Harry gets the support he needs.

Tony turns to Pepper and Harry, his face lighting up with that "Let's kick some ass" look. "Alright, team. We've got our work cut out for us, but we're going to make this work. Together."

Harry, looking at Tony with the kind of trust only a kid can have, says, "Thanks, Dad."

Tony ruffles Harry's hair, his smile as warm as his heart. "Anytime, kiddo. Let's get to work."

—

Hey there, twisted souls and misfit fans! It's your friendly neighborhood Deadpool, here to give you the lowdown on Sirius Black's dungeon dive in Azkaban Prison. Grab your popcorn and maybe a stiff drink because things are about to get gritty. And by "gritty," I mean "gloomier than an emo teenager's diary."

Let's paint the scene: Azkaban is basically the magical equivalent of the world's worst vacation spot—perpetual gloom, damp stone cells, and more despair than a high school prom. Sirius Black, looking like he's been on an extreme diet of despair and despair alone, is huddled in the corner of his cell. The Dementors? Oh, they're just doing their thing, making everyone's life even more miserable by sucking out the last remnants of joy.

Sirius, that poor sod, is clinging to three thoughts like a lifeline in a sea of despair. First up: his innocence. This thought is his emotional seatbelt, keeping him from crashing into the abyss of madness. Despite his pretty messed-up situation, he's certain he's not the one who sold out James and Lily Potter. Nope, that was Peter Pettigrew—the human rat, and not in the "he's really good at math" way.

Now, you'd think being in a cell with nothing but Dementor-induced depression would be enough to keep anyone down, but Sirius is also fueled by the thought of his godson, Harry. Harry's like the last glimmer of hope in a never-ending dark tunnel. Sirius remembers holding that little bundle of joy, and it's the one thing keeping him from curling up in the fetal position and sobbing his eyes out. He doesn't know where Harry is, what he's up to, or if he's eating his veggies, but Sirius is determined to find him and be the godfather of the year—or at least make up for lost time.

Now, here's where it gets spicy: Sirius's rage at Peter Pettigrew and Albus Dumbledore. Peter? He's living it up somewhere, probably with a cheese platter and a smug grin while Sirius rots. The thought of Peter's betrayal is like a red-hot poker shoved right into Sirius's brain. He's dreaming of the day he can escape Azkaban, hunt Peter down, and give him a proper ass-kicking.

And Dumbledore? Oh, don't get me started. Sirius once looked up to Dumbledore like he was the magical version of Gandalf. Now, he's just another source of bitterness. Sirius feels Dumbledore should have known better and done something to save him, considering he knew about the whole Secret Keeper switcheroo. But nope, Sirius is left stewing in his cell while the great and powerful Dumbledore is off doing whatever it is that old wizards do—probably knitting or something.

As the Dementors glide closer, sucking the warmth from the air and making Sirius's life even more miserable, he focuses on these three thoughts: his innocence, Harry, and his raging fury. It's like his personal triathlon of survival—keeping his sanity, his hope, and his anger from being drowned by the Dementor-induced blues.

He's vowed that someday, he'll bust out of this hellhole. He'll find Harry, give him all the love and protection he deserves, and make up for all the lost time. He'll hunt down Peter Pettigrew, take him to task, and finally get some justice. And Dumbledore? Well, let's just say Sirius plans to give him a piece of his mind—and maybe a good old-fashioned magical beatdown.

But for now, Sirius Black is stuck in Azkaban, battling despair with nothing but hope, anger, and the occasional daydream of revenge. Every day is a struggle, but he's not giving up. Not now, not ever. Because when you've got that much fury and determination, even a hellhole like Azkaban can't keep you down.

—

Welcome back, fellow mischief-makers and fans of chaos! It's your resident wisecracker, Deadpool, ready to spill the beans on the day the Weasleys got an unexpected visit from the dynamic duo: Albus "Silver Fox" Dumbledore and Alastor "Mad-Eye" Moody. And trust me, this wasn't your average Sunday dinner. So, sit back, relax, and let me guide you through the magical madness that unfolded at The Burrow.

The Burrow, cozy and chaotic, was bursting at the seams with the usual Weasley antics. You could hear the kids' laughter echoing through the rickety old house, a sound sweeter than the jingles in those annoying TV commercials. The place reeked of love, happiness, and a dash of whatever Fred and George were concocting in their latest prank experiment. Ah, home sweet home!

As if on cue, Dumbledore and Moody appeared at the doorstep, Dumbledore with his majestic silver beard (I mean, he could give Gandalf a run for his money), and Moody, all eye patches and paranoia. They knocked on the door, looking like they were about to announce a wizarding bake sale or something equally mundane. Surprise, surprise, they had something way more serious in store.

Molly Weasley, the heart and soul of the family, opened the door. She was all smiles until she saw who was there. Her smile vanished quicker than a donut in a police station. "Professor Dumbledore, Alastor, what a surprise! Please, come in," she said, trying to hide her shock. Oh, Molly, if only you knew what kind of surprise they had in store.

"Good evening, Molly," Dumbledore said with his usual calm, wise-old-man demeanor. "We need to speak with you and Arthur immediately. It's a matter of utmost importance." Translation: Shit's about to hit the fan, people!

Molly led them to the kitchen, where the Weasley kids were scattered like socks in a laundry basket. Fred and George were plotting their next big prank, Ron and Ginny were in a heated game of wizard chess, and Percy, the serious one, was doing homework with his pet rat Scabbers chilling on his shoulder. Arthur Weasley was knee-deep in a Muggle contraption, looking like a kid in a candy store.

"Albus, Alastor, what brings you here at this hour?" Arthur asked, oblivious to the storm brewing in his own kitchen.

Dumbledore took a deep breath, probably wishing he had a shot of Firewhisky to steady his nerves. "Arthur, Molly, what I'm about to tell you must remain confidential. It concerns Peter Pettigrew." Now, if you were a Weasley, this was the moment you'd start feeling your heart sink like a lead balloon.

"Peter Pettigrew? The man who was killed by Sirius Black?" Arthur said, clearly confused.

Moody, always the man of action, stepped forward with a face that could curdle milk. "Pettigrew is very much alive and kicking, folks. And guess what? He's been hiding in plain sight. We have reason to believe he's here, disguised as a rat." Cue the dramatic music, folks!

Molly's jaw hit the floor. "Scabbers? You think Scabbers is Peter Pettigrew?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Dumbledore nodded, looking like he'd just been asked to explain the internet to a caveman. "I'm afraid so. We need to apprehend him immediately."

All eyes turned to Percy, who looked like he'd been caught sneaking cookies from the jar. "Scabbers? But that's impossible!" he said, clutching his precious rat.

"Percy, put the rat on the table," Moody barked, his magical eye spinning faster than a hamster on a wheel. "We need to verify his identity."

Percy, looking like he'd just lost his best friend, placed Scabbers on the kitchen table. The rat was shaking like a leaf, probably thinking, "This is it, my cheese-eating days are over."

Dumbledore whipped out his wand and cast a revealing spell. And wouldn't you know it, Scabbers started twitching and transforming into the one and only Peter Pettigrew, the man of the hour. The Weasley kids' eyes bugged out like cartoon characters, and Percy looked like he'd just swallowed a bug. Poor guy's world had just been turned upside down.

Moody, not one to waste time, pointed his wand at Pettigrew. "Peter Pettigrew, you are under arrest for the betrayal of the Potters and the murder of twelve Muggles," he declared, like a cop in a buddy cop movie. All that was missing was the cheesy one-liner.

Pettigrew, the coward, whimpered like a puppy caught peeing on the carpet. "Please, I can explain! It wasn't my fault! Voldemort—" he started, but Dumbledore shut him up real quick.

"Silence, Pettigrew," Dumbledore said, his voice colder than the ice cream aisle at Walmart. "You will have your chance to explain before the Wizengamot. For now, you are coming with us." Pettigrew's face fell faster than a soufflé in a thunderstorm.

Moody slapped some magical cuffs on Pettigrew, and just like that, the traitor was in custody. Dumbledore turned to the Weasleys, trying to ease the tension. "I'm sorry to have brought this danger into your home. I assure you, Pettigrew will face justice for his crimes." Translation: Sorry for ruining your evening, but at least the rat's out of the bag now!

Molly, still reeling from the shock, nodded. "Thank you, Professor. We had no idea…" she said, her voice trailing off.

Dumbledore, ever the reassuring old wizard, placed a hand on her shoulder. "I know, Molly. You and your family are not to blame. Pettigrew's deception was cunning and cruel."

With Pettigrew secured, Dumbledore and Moody prepared to head out. As they left The Burrow, the weight of their mission hung heavy on Dumbledore's shoulders. They'd caught the rat, but the quest to clear Sirius Black's name and find Harry was just beginning.

As they disapparated with Pettigrew in tow, Dumbledore's mind raced with plans. First, get Sirius out of Azkaban. Then, track down Harry and bring him back to the wizarding world. Because in the end, justice isn't just a concept—it's a promise. And Dumbledore was determined to keep it, no matter the cost.

There you have it, my dear readers—a night of twists, turns, and more drama than a daytime soap opera. Stay tuned for more shenanigans and, as always, my no-holds-barred commentary!

---

Hey there, my fellow fanfic fanatics!

Deadpool here, breaking the fourth wall like it's my full-time job (which it kinda is)! So, how are you enjoying this crazy ride so far? Love it, hate it, or somewhere in between? I want to hear all the juicy details and spicy critiques. Drop a comment or shoot me a message; I promise I won't bite—unless you're into that sort of thing.

But wait, there's more! If you're into the endless rabbit hole of fanfic discussions, plot twists, and character breakdowns, you need to hop into my Discord server. Yup, that's right! A whole community dedicated to dissecting stories, geeking out over characters, and maybe getting sneak peeks of my future masterpieces. Whether you're a reader, writer, or just a casual fan of fictional chaos, join us for some high-quality nerd-out sessions. We'll even throw in some art to make it feel extra fancy.

[Click here to join my fanfic Discord server](https://discord.com/invite/HHHwRsB6wd). Trust me, you don't want to miss this party.

And if you feel like fueling my caffeine addiction to keep the words flowing, you can buy me a cup of coffee—or ten. Your support keeps my fourth-wall-breaking fingers typing. You can donate via PayPal [here](https://www.paypal.me/VikrantUtekar007) or check out my [Buy Me a Coffee page](https://www.buymeacoffee.com/vikired001s).

Thanks for being part of this wild journey! Can't wait to see you on the other side of the screen.

Deadpool out! ✌️