Chapter 32- Mr. Wrong( part 2).

"So tell me about yourself," Janet suggested, as she and Harry made their way up the street. "You and Tom know all about me, so it's your turn."

"Not much to tell, really," the boy responded, with a grin. "I go to boarding school, and I have a summer job at the Leaky Cauldron."

"Do you have any hobbies, or interests?"

Harry shrugged. "I like sports," he said, after a minute. "I play on my House team at school."

"House?"

Harry nodded. "There are four houses within my school. Students are assigned a house in their first year." Janet nodded encouragingly, so he went on.

"Every year there are two competitions. One is which team does the best, and the other is the House Cup. The points earned by the House teams are added to any points students earn with correct answers and proper behavior. Points are lost if students are caught breaking rules or misbehaving. Whichever house has the most points at the end of the year wins."

"And has your house won?"

Beaming, Harry nodded.

"So what about your family?" Janet asked innocently. She knew immediately she had hit a nerve when Harry's jaw unconsciously tightened. She wasn't sure if he would answer, but after a few seconds he said, "My parents were killed when I was a baby. I was sent to live with my aunt and uncle."

Sensing this was not a comfortable subject, Janet nodded. Reaching out, she gave his arm a little squeeze. "I'm sorry about your parents, Jim," she said, then delicately let the subject drop.

"Janet?" he ventured after they had walked a little way in silence. It felt a little odd to be addressing her in this manner, but she had insisted.

"Hmm?"

"I want to ask you something, but I'm afraid it's going to come out sounding insulting."

Jan's lips twitched in amusement. "Well, since you're obviously dying to ask, I'll try not to be insulted."

Harry blew his breath out through his teeth, then decided the direct approach was probably best. "I was just wondering...can you tell me why you trust me? I-I mean...well...it's just that..."

"No, it's all right. I understand," Janet said, with a thoughtful frown, "and it's a fair question. I'm not usually this comfortable with someone I've just met," she said, smiling sheepishly up at Harry.

"Me either."

"I'm afraid I really can't give you a definitive answer. This may sound a little, well, strange, because its more feelings than facts," Janet continued, after a minute. "I don't completely understand it myself."

Now it was Harry's turn to nod encouragingly.

"All I know is this afternoon I was more scared than I had ever been in my life. I was running up the street, and I couldn't see the girls anywhere and..." Janet trailed off, apparently having lost her nerve.

"You're killing me here," Harry finally prodded. "Come on, I promise I won't laugh," he coaxed when she continued to hesitate.

I'm less worried about you laughing, and more worried about you running away in terror with my kid still on your back."

Harry grinned at her. "Won't happen," he declared firmly, shifting Kitty to a more comfortable position. "My headmaster once awarded me sixty points for 'pure nerve and outstanding courage.'"

"Did he now?"

"Yeah. Long story."

"I'll bet. I'd like to hear it sometime," Janet smiled. She walked a little farther, then realized Harry was still waiting for her explanation. "Look, I don't know what happened, okay?" she finally said, looking more than a little frustrated. "It might have been gut instinct, or a lucky guess, or I might have had a psychic moment." She stopped Becky's stroller and flung her arms wide. "My guardian angel could have whispered in my ear, for all I know. The only thing I'm sure of, is this afternoon, when I saw you on the street, I knew somehow that you were okay, and you'd be able to help me." She crossed her arms and looked up at Harry, as though expecting him to scoff. "Well, go on. Say it," she prompted impatiently. "I know it sounds crazy."

Harry shrugged helplessly, not really knowing what to say. It didn't sound any crazier than about half a dozen things he could think of offhand. Actually, he could kind of identify with what she was describing. He'd only managed to confuse and frustrate Hermione and Ron the times he'd tried to describe how things just came to him, sometimes. "So, erm, has this ever happened before?" he ventured, when Janet grasped the stroller handles and continued up the street.

Surprised, Janet stared at him a second, then relaxed fractionally, and shrugged. "Maybe," she said consideringly. "It's hard to say for sure. My gut feelings are usually right, but not always. It could be coincidence. And even if it is some kind of weird perception, they're few and far between."

Divination wasn't exactly Harry's favorite class, but he was interested in spite of himself. "So is it just people, then?" he asked, thinking of his own capricious gift.

"No," Janet said thoughtfully, amazed that he'd picked up the thread of the conversation, and relieved that he wasn't looking at her like she'd grown another head. Most of the males she knew, especially the young ones, were uncomfortable with the subject, or tended to laugh it off. "It can be locations, objects... Once I knew without a shadow of a doubt that I had a letter from my boyfriend at the time in the mailbox, and furthermore, I knew I was not going to like what he had to say."

"And were you right?"

"Yeah...but I remember that incident because it was unusual. Most of the time it isn't that precise," Janet paused, remembering for a second, then threw Harry a mischievous look. "It would be nice if I could tune in to useful information for a change. Winning lottery numbers, for example."

"Yeah," Harry laughed, "that would be cool."

They talked of little, inconsequential things after that, and all too soon they rounded one last corner, and Janet stopped Becky's stroller in front of a modest townhouse. "Here we are," she said, with a flourish.

Harry nodded. "Nice place," he said with a smile.

"Well it will be, once we finish unpacking," Jan commented wryly, fumbling for her keys. "It looks more like a box factory than a home at the moment." She looked at Harry speculatively and seemed to debate with herself for a minute. "If you have the time and can put up with the mess, you'll have to come by and see us," she finally offered.

"I'd like that, thank you," Harry said honestly. "But only if you agree to come see me at the Leaky Cauldron as well!"

"Oh, we will. Don't worry about that," Jan beamed. "I can't wait for my husband, Steve, to get here. I'm sure he'll love it, too. Oh!" she exclaimed softly. "Kitty must be getting heavy, and Tom is expecting you back, and I'm chattering on..."

Harry watched her open the door, turn on the lights, then lift the stroller, bags, Becky, and all over the threshold. When this was done, she turned back to him, and plucked her noodle-limp daughter off his back. "There are times I'm grateful she sleeps like a rock," Janet said fondly, raising Kitty up so she could kiss her forehead.

"Alright, then?" Harry asked, feeling a little useless now that he wasn't carrying Kitty anymore.

"Yeah. Thanks again for being such a big help."

"It was nothing," Harry shrugged good naturedly. "That's what friends are for, right?" he asked hesitantly.

"Absolutely," Janet replied firmly. She shifted Kitty slightly, then shrugged and grinned up at him. "I'd shake on it, but my hands are full."

"I noticed," Harry observed dryly, as he returned her smile. "Next time, then?" he asked, still a little unsure of himself as he turned to go.

"You've got it." Janet said, watching from her doorway as he started back toward the Leaky Cauldron. When he reached the intersection, he paused long enough to wave and call "Sleep well!" over his shoulder before turning the corner, and vanishing from sight. That's one heck of a nice kid, she mused, closing the door, and setting about putting her sleeping daughters to bed.

______

Snape was not in a good mood. This was not going the way he'd hoped.

Note to self: Memory Potion should not be mixed with Calming Potion. Ever.

Peter had responded to the Calming Potion, then proceeded to be spectacularly sick. Snape hadn't been expecting this, but, he really should have. It was only natural for Pettigrew to have a weak stomach after all.

Luckily, his case was full of all sorts of potions, draughts, and elixirs. One never knew when they might come in handy, after all. After a couple of false starts, he hit upon the correct combination of remedies that would allow him to administer the Memory Potion successfully, and Peter was now sitting dreamily before him.

Irritably, Severus reached for his wand, and muttered some cleaning charms. A keen sense of smell was useful in potion-making, but right now it was rather distracting. When the immediate area was at least tolerable, he turned back to the dark wizard. "I believe we are ready to begin, Master."

"Excellent, Severus. Proceed," Voldemort instructed, laying aside the copy of the Daily Prophet he'd been reading. The Dark Lord had been uncharacteristically tolerant of the delays. He hadn't cast the Cruciatus Curse even once. Evidently he had anticipated that this to take a while, and had come prepared.

Or else he realized that having to deal with a sick person was adequate punishment for the rather fastidious potion master.

Pushing aside his uncharitable thoughts, Snape nodded, and turned back to Wormtail. "Can you hear me?"

There was a pause before Peter answered. "Yes." Like Black, his attention seemed riveted elsewhere, almost like he had to make an effort to return to the present. Fascinating.

"I need you to remember fall of 1981," Snape prompted. "After you framed Black, blew up the street, and escaped in your rat form."

"No, I'd really rather not. Can we talk about how I became an animagus instead?"

Snape blinked. He hadn't expected resistance. Backing up, he tried a different approach. It had been his intent to guide Pettigrew from his escape down the sewers to his adoption by the Weasleys. Perhaps he could skip ahead a few questions. "How did you come to live in the Weasley household?"

"I chanced upon the family in Diagon Alley. Their son Percy wanted a pet, and was causing a bit of a scene. He was feeling a little isolated. The two oldest brothers were close, the twins were inseparable, Ron was just a year old at time, and his parents' attention was focused on the new baby girl. Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately for me, the family was a little short on funds, and couldn't really afford frivolities like pets. It was easy to ingratiate myself to the boy. He was only five or so at the time. I made him happy, and his parents allowed him to keep me."

"So you started out as Percy Weasley's rat? How did you wind up with Ronald Weasley?"

"Percy Weasley was made a school prefect his fifth year. His parents bought him an owl for the occasion. Ronald was just getting ready to start his first year at Hogwarts, so I was given to him. The Weasleys don't believe in wasting anything."

"I see. So when did Ronald happen to meet Harry Potter?"

"Harry came up to the Weasley family as they were preparing to cross the barrier leading to Platform 9¾. I recognized him almost immediately, of course. Even before I saw him. There's something of James and Lily in his scent. He hadn't been told how to get onto the platform, so Molly told him what to do. I didn't see him again until Ron boarded the train. All the other compartments were full, so he wound up sitting with Harry."

"And they became friends during the course of the year?"

"Yes. Ron and Harry became inseparable almost immediately. After Halloween, they became chummy with another first year named Hermione Granger."

"Yes," Snape replied drily. "So at the end of the year, the three made plans to visit one another?"

"Yes. Ron asked his mother straightaway if Harry could come to stay. She agreed, and a week or so later, he sent his first invitation. A few days later, he sent another. It went on like that for a couple of weeks."

"Potter didn't respond?"

"No. The rest of the family were puzzled, but shrugged it off. They thought Harry must have changed his mind, or was perhaps on holiday or otherwise unavailable. Only Ron and the twins seemed to think something was wrong."

"Why did they suspect?" Snape asked before he could stop himself. This question wasn't entirely relevant to the matter at hand, but Arthur Weasley's story was still nagging at him.

Fortunately, neither Voldemort nor Wormtail seemed to notice.

"Harry told Ron a bit about his home life, although I could tell he held back quite a bit. Fred and George knew Harry was responsible and dependable from being on the Quidditch team with him. Besides, they knew he wanted to visit, so his silence seemed suspicious," Peter was reporting candidly.

"How did they find his address?" Severus asked, beginning to drive toward his goal. Potter's records at the ministry were sealed, and his whereabouts were almost a state secret.

"Harry gave it to Ron before they left Hogwarts."

Snape nodded, barely resisting the urge to roll his eyes in disgust. Obviously. Evidently no one bothered to tell Potter than he shouldn't hand his address out. Of course at the time, it hadn't been that much of an issue. "And what was the address?"

"...I don't remember."

"Concentrate, man! This is important. They must have mentioned where they were going."

"It was...near London. Surrey, I believe. Yes, Surrey. They were talking and eating Bertie Bott's every flavor beans. I'd found a strawberry flavored one, and was eating it while they were talking. They were trying to determine of the car had enough fuel to get there and back."

"Where in Surrey does Potter live?" Severus pressed, chancing a nervous glance at Voldemort out of the corner of his eye. The Dark Lord was sitting on the edge of his seat now, his eyes intense with anticipation.

"Does it matter? The beans were much more interesting. They also had some of Molly's ginger snaps and cold pumpkin juice. Ron was always very good about sharing with me. Percy took good care of me, but he always expected me to sleep in a cage and eat rat food."

"It matters a great deal," Severus snapped irritably. Leaning close he hissed in Peter's ear, "You remember the Cruciatus Curse don't you? Because I can guarantee you're about to become reacquainted with it if you don't stop thinking with your stomach and concentrate!"

Peter blinked up at his fearfully, shocked out of his reminiscence. Fortunately, the Calming Potion did its job, so he didn't suffer another panic attack, but he paled slightly, and broke into a light sweat. Closing his eyes, he tried to concentrate.

"We'll take it one step at a time. This may help," Snape said, trying to be reassuring, as he took a magical atlas out of his case. The book had pre-printed maps, and several work pages that witches and wizards could use to conjure directions, routes, and so on. He flipped through it until he found a rather detailed map of Surrey, England and put it on the table in front of Wormtail. "Which village in Surrey does Potter live in?"

"It had a funny name," Peter said, frowning at the list of towns that accompanied the map. "Crying...complaining...no! Whinging! Little Whinging! Right here!" he exclaimed, pointing a triumphant finger.

"Excellent. Now the address?" Snape pressed implacably.

"Address?" Peter squeaked, aghast. He ran his fingers through his thinning hair, then squeaked again in fright when he caught sight of Voldemort impatiently tapping his wand on the arm of his chair. By the look in the dark wizard's red eyes, he was just about at the end of his patience, and more than ready to start hurling curses.

Swallowing audibly, Pettigrew locked eyes with Snape, silently pleading for help The Hogwarts professor frowned and consulted his prepared questions again. If he wasn't mistaken, they had anticipated Peter might falter at the address. Now it was time for some artfully leading questions. He couldn't make it too easy, or Voldemort might catch on to the fact that he, Severus, knew Potter's address.

Turning to a work page, he tapped the atlas with his wand, and said, "Tabula Via* Little Whinging." An alphabetical list of street names began to appear on the page.

Wormtail scanned the list once, twice, then raked his fingers through his hair again. "I don't remember!" he wailed hysterically. "I can't remember!"

Ah. The Calming Potion must be wearing off. Snape automatically reached for the vials needed for a second dose, but Voldemort stopped him.

"Don't bother, Severus. Crucio! " he commanded, pointing his wand at the cowering wizard.

Snape tried not to wince too noticeably when the curse slammed into Pettigrew, fueled by Voldemort's anger and frustration. The little rat-faced man howled in pain for almost a full minute, before the dark lord relented, and released him from the curse. When it was over, he was pale and shaking, but, to give credit where it was due, Snape had to admit, Peter wasn't babbling anymore. The Cruciatus Curse was a bit much, though. A sharp slap across the mouth probably would have sufficed.

Now it was time to drop the hint. "If I may, Master," he said respectfully to Voldemort, "Wormtail seems to be...over stressed. Perhaps he might remember if we let him have a little privacy."

"He has two minutes," Voldemort growled menacingly. "After that, he will have outlived his usefulness."

Well, that's done it, Snape thought bitterly, as he discreetly watched Pettigrew blanch and begin to sweat even more profusely. He was certain the other wizard was terrorized beyond logical thought, but suddenly Peter's eyes lit up. Severus smiled inwardly, pleased he had taken the bait. Maybe, just maybe...

"Privacy, privacy..." Peter muttered desperately, with the air of a man who was just on the verge of recalling something. "No...not privacy. Private. Yes. Private. That sounds right..." he muttered, looking more closely at the P's. "Primrose, Princeton...PRIVET!" Wormtail jumped out of his chair in excitement. "PRIVET!" he exclaimed again. "PRIVET DRIVE! Harry Potter lives with Vernon and Petunia Dursley at NUMBER FOUR PRIVET DRIVE!" he crowed in victory, before crumpling to the floor in a dead faint.

(* Tabula Via - Latin for "List Street")

*****"