Chapter 19: Veils of Truth and Echoes of Legacy
The final week before summer arrived with warm breezes and the scent of honeysuckle floating across the lawns of Hogwarts. But the warmth did little to mask the tension that hung in the air—tension born of truths long buried finally coming to light.
The Fall of the Rat
In a courtroom conjured within the Department of Mysteries, Harrison Strange Potter stood tall before the assembled crowd of Aurors, Wizengamot members, and Ministry officials. At his side were Sirius Black, recently escaped from Azkaban, and Penelope Clearwater, acting as an assistant to Harrison for this trial.
On the other side of the room, bound by enchanted chains, cowered Peter Pettigrew—known for thirteen years as Scabbers, the Weasley family's pet rat.
"You will speak the truth," Harrison intoned, his eyes glowing faintly, one amethyst and the other sapphire. His voice carried ancient weight, layered with the eldritch resonance of cosmic authority. "And the Veil shall judge."
The shimmering Veil of Death behind Peter rustled faintly as if it hungered for the soul of the coward.
After countless witness testimonies, including Arthur Weasley swearing to Scabbers' presence for over a decade and Sirius giving a firsthand account of the night James and Lily died, the climax arrived. Harrison held up a soul crystal—pulled from the Chamber of Secrets—containing a memory from Lily Potter herself.
In the memory, Lily could be seen handing Harry over to Sirius. "Peter is the Secret Keeper," she whispered. "We switched yesterday. No one knows. Not even Dumbledore."
Gasps filled the courtroom. Cornelius Fudge blanched, while Madam Bones stared with quiet horror.
Arthur and Molly Weasley were stunned into silence, Molly holding her chest as her face turned pale. Fred and George looked ready to throttle Pettigrew themselves. Ron was shaking, disbelief and horror on his face.
Dumbledore, seated near the front, nodded solemnly. "It is time we corrected our mistakes."
Harrison stepped forward and turned to Peter. "You chose betrayal. Now face what lies beyond."
With a wave of his hand and invocation of eldritch runes, Peter was flung into the Veil. A single scream echoed as his body vanished into the beyond.
Sirius staggered back in relief. Harrison caught him, gently. "You're free, Padfoot."
Tears streamed down Sirius's face. "Thank you, pup. Thank you."
The hall erupted in conflicting emotions—applause from many, outrage from a few.
Fudge shouted, "This was unorthodox! Illegal! You can't just execute a man without proper process!"
Harrison's gaze turned cold. "Justice delayed for thirteen years is no justice at all. If the Ministry won't hold traitors accountable, the cosmos will."
At that moment, Harrison stepped forward and drew upon the Hall of Echoes. With a solemn chant, he summoned forth the souls of James and Lily Potter.
Golden-white phantoms appeared, ethereal and gentle. The crowd gasped.
James looked around and found Harry in the crowd. "Son... you've grown."
Lily turned to Harrison. "You found the truth. You always do."
The spectral figures turned to the assembled officials.
"Sirius was never the traitor," James said. "Peter was. This child of fate beside you—Harrison—is your only hope to cleanse what you've corrupted."
As the souls faded, silence blanketed the courtroom.
Love Beneath the Stars
A week later, Harrison found himself walking beneath the silvery moonlight across the castle grounds with Clarissa and Penelope. The quiet laughter they shared was free from the usual weight of politics and prophecy.
They picnicked by the lake, an enchanted dome shielding them from the night chill. The stars shimmered above like silent witnesses.
Clarissa leaned against Harrison's shoulder, while Penelope fed him enchanted strawberries.
"Do you ever feel like all this is... fleeting?" Penelope asked.
Harrison smiled faintly. "For you, time is a thread. For me, it's a sea. I can dip into any moment, but this? This is my anchor."
Penelope hesitated. "Do you think I could have a future in the Ministry? I want to change things."
His expression turned grave. "The Ministry is a nest of tradition and prejudice. They smile as they cut the wings of those who dream. If you try to rise, they'll try to break you first. But if you still want it, I'll stand by you. We can forge a path others fear to tread."
Clarissa reached for Penelope's hand. "Then we'll do it together."
Echoes of the Founders
During the last days before summer, Harrison walked alone into the depths of the Chamber of Secrets. He passed the great stone statue of Salazar Slytherin, eyes flickering with magic, until he reached a hidden antechamber only revealed to him.
Within lay a hall filled with phantasmic echoes—living memories etched into enchanted obsidian.
He stepped into the memory of Salazar Slytherin.
It was not the dark figure of legend. Salazar was calm, regal, and weary. He spoke to a younger wizard, a boy with wild eyes.
"You misunderstand power, my son. It is not a tool for culling the weak but a burden to protect all."
"They scorn us," the youth snarled. "Muggles and magicals alike. Let them burn."
The boy unleashed a torrent of fire that consumed a village in the distance.
Salazar turned away, heartbroken. "You are no longer my heir."
The vision shifted—to the duel. Salazar, powerful but sorrowful, clashed with the boy who had once been his pride. The fight ended with Salazar mortally wounded, but victorious. As he lay dying, he carved runes into the floor:
> "A child not of our blood, but of our legacy, shall rise. Time shall be his sword, and stars his guide. He shall cleanse the rot, and bind light with shadow. His name shall echo across ages—Harrison."
Harrison's eyes shimmered with emotion. "You weren't evil. You were a father betrayed."
He turned to the next vision.
Godric Gryffindor stood atop a burning hill, clutching the corpses of his wife and daughter, their faces disfigured by fire.
"They did this," Godric wept. "The Muggles. For loving them."
Helga tried to console him. "This hate... it will consume you."
Godric looked up, and for a moment, his red-gold aura turned black.
"Then let it."
Yet in his final days, Godric wept over the graves of fallen friends, whispering prayers for peace.
In his last moments, he too left a prophecy:
> "When blood is betrayed and darkness returns, A warrior of stars shall rise, Not for vengeance—but renewal. He will know our pain, but not be consumed by it."
The visions faded, and Harrison sat in the silence of the chamber.
"History lied about both of you," he whispered. "But I will not."
As he stood, the voices of the Founders echoed one final time:
"Your path is heavier than ours ever was. But you carry it with heart. That is what makes you worthy."
He emerged from the Chamber, the weight of legacy heavy on his shoulders—but with newfound clarity in his heart.
He wasn't just the Guardian of Time. He was the living culmination of the Founders' hopes and the world's last great champion.
And he would shape the future not by the lies of history, but by the truths only time could reveal.
As he decided to leave the Chamber, Harrison's right index and middle fingers burst with magic ang glyphs as the Lord's rings of the House of Slytherin and Gryffindor now adore his hand along with the Potter family's Lord ring.