The week leading up to January 5th felt like an eternity. Freeing Sirius consumed Harry’s thoughts, leaving little room for anything else. He ran through the plan over and over, scrutinizing every detail, and searching for weaknesses. The timing was everything—there were letters to be sent, not just at the right moments but at the exact times dictated by the Weaver’s Map. He needed a way to ensure perfect delivery.

  His abilities, ever attuned to his needs, responded. A new skill manifested: Messenger of the Gap. Its description was deceptively simple: Imagine a creature, and it shall manifest. Give it a letter, and it shall deliver.

  Intrigued, Harry tested it, picturing an owl. A moment later, one appeared—but something about it felt... wrong. It wasn’t like magical conjuration, where an object was created from nothing. This was different. The owl felt as though it had always existed, just beyond his perception, lingering at an angle his mind wasn’t meant to grasp. A chill ran through him. He couldn’t shake the feeling that, for the briefest moment, he had glimpsed something he wasn’t supposed to see.

  Setting aside his unease, Harry penned a short letter:

  “Hermione,

  I hope you’re doing well. I’m sorry I didn’t get you a Christmas present—it completely slipped my mind. I’ve never had anyone to exchange gifts with before, and I guess I just wasn’t used to it.

  But I’m sending this letter for another reason. Please write a reply and send it back with the owl I sent you.

  —Harry”

  With the letter secured, Harry handed it to the owl and willed it to deliver the letter to one Hermione Granger who was his classmate. The creature slipped into the so-called ‘gap,’ vanishing as eerily as it had the first time. Even with his enhanced perception, granted by the ability “Now I See You”, he couldn’t track its departure. One moment it was there, and the next, it simply wasn’t.

  A minute later, the owl returned. Just as before, its arrival defied all logic—it wasn’t, and then it was.

  Harry unfolded the reply.

  “Harry,

  I’m okay. I’m so sorry about your childhood. Also… what is that owl? How did it even get into my room without me noticing? The windows were closed.

  Awaiting your reply,

  —Hermione”

  Harry froze. In his haste, he hadn’t considered how Hermione would react to an owl appearing out of thin air. He didn’t want to keep lying to her, but how much was safe to reveal?

  After a moment’s thought, he scribbled back a short reply:

  “Hermione,

  I’ll tell you about it when you come to Hogwarts.

  —Harry”

  It would buy him time—time to decide how much he was willing to tell her.

  "I’ll think about that later," Harry muttered to himself, shoving the dilemma to the back of his mind. There was a far more pressing matter demanding his attention: capturing Peter Pettigrew. The man—no, the rat—was the key to proving his godfather’s innocence. Harry clenched his fists, forcing down the simmering anger that threatened to boil over. Pettigrew had betrayed his parents, and the thought of it made his blood run cold. But now wasn’t the time for rage. Now was the time for action.

  The plan was straightforward, but it required precision. Late that night, when Ron Weasley and the rest of the dormitory were deep in sleep, Harry moved silently. His wand was already in hand, and his focus was razor-sharp. With a whispered incantation, he froze the rat in place using the ability “Rooted to the Spot”. The creature stiffened, unable to twitch a single whisker. Harry didn’t hesitate. In one swift motion, he cast “Stupefy”, and the rat went limp, completely unconscious.

  Breathing a quiet sigh of relief, Harry carefully lifted the motionless creature and placed it into a small cage he had prepared earlier. The iron bars clicked shut, sealing Pettigrew’s fate—at least for now.

  …

  January 5th, 1992

  The day had finally arrived. He was awake before the first rooster’s call, anticipation thrumming in his veins. For the past two weeks, he had been waiting for this moment—and now, at last, it was here.

  The letters were written, sealed, and ready. All that remained was to send them at the precise times marked on Weaver’s Map.

  At exactly 7 a.m., Harry summoned an owl using his Messenger of the Gap ability. This one was different from the owl he usually sent to Hermione. With careful precision, he instructed it to deliver a letter to Rita Skeeter.

  —

  Across town, Rita Skeeter was just about to grab her camera and head out in search of the day’s biggest scoop when she spotted an unfamiliar envelope sitting on her desk.

  Frowning, she tapped a manicured nail against the seal. “I don’t remember putting any letters here,” she muttered.

  Curiosity piqued, she tore it open and began to read.

  …

  Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

  As the hour hand of the analog watch stuck precisely 8, Harry handed another letter to the owl. It was to be sent to another person.

  …

  The morning sun cast a weak glow through the window of Alastor Moody’s office, though he had been awake long before dawn. The scent of ink and parchment filled the air as he sifted through documents on rookie Aurors—evaluations, reports, areas where their training had been lacking. His enchanted eye swiveled independently, keeping watch on his surroundings even as he read. Constant vigilance.

  Then—an anomaly.

  A silent presence.

  His normal eye flicked up, and his magical one snapped into focus. Perched atop his bookshelf, barely a few feet away, was an owl. A barn owl, feathers ruffled slightly, clutching a letter in its beak.

  Moody’s grip tightened on his staff, knuckles whitening. He could have sworn—no, he knew—there hadn’t been an owl there a moment ago. He hadn’t heard the soft rustle of wings, hadn’t felt the slightest disturbance in the magic around him. No shift in the air, no shimmer, no telltale flicker of enchantment. It was simply… there.

  The owl met his gaze, unblinking. Silent. Watching.

  Moody was no fool. He didn’t move recklessly, didn’t snatch the letter like some greenhorn with more nerves than sense. His wand flicked through a series of precise, silent incantations, scanning the parchment, the bird, and the very air between them for the subtlest trace of curses, illusions, and enchantments. Nothing. His magical eye whirred in its socket, peeling through layers of reality—still nothing.

  The owl didn’t fidget. It didn’t even ruffle its feathers. Just held the letter firm, waiting.

  Moody’s fingers traced the edge of the envelope before he finally plucked it from the owl’s beak. The bird didn’t move, didn’t blink—just continued its silent, unsettling watch.

  Carefully, Moody pried the wax seal open, unfolding the parchment with deliberate precision. His magical eye continued sweeping the room for any sign of deception, any lurking danger. Nothing.

  His real eye, however, locked onto the words scrawled across the page.

  “To Alastor ‘Mad-Eye’ Moody

  Barty Crouch Sr. has been illegally holding his son, Barty Crouch Jr., under the Imperius Curse at their home.

  This cover-up was orchestrated due to the death wish of Crouch’s terminally ill wife, who used Polyjuice Potion to swap places with her son in Azkaban.

  Barty Crouch Sr. will depart for the Ministry at precisely 8:47 AM, his mind preoccupied with a critical Wizengamot session. He will not return until the evening.

  At 8:55 AM, the house-elf, Winky, will be distracted tending to the day’s laundry near the back gardens—her hands too full, her mind too occupied, to notice what unfolds inside.

  I trust you will act swiftly and decisively.

  — A Concerned Citizen”

  As he finished reading, the owl vanished as silently as it had arrived. One moment it was there; the next, it was gone. His magical eye detected no fluctuation, no trace of its departure. The situation was undeniably strange. If it was a trap, it was an elaborate one. Yet Moody was determined to follow through. He had been suspicious of Barty Crouch Jr.’s mysterious death from the start, and now he had even more reason to uncover the truth.

  …

  As Harry watched the hour hand of his analog watch touch 9, he sent the next letter, addressed to Madam Amelia Bones.

  …

  Madam Bones lived in Bones Manor with her niece, Susan Bones, a first-year Hogwarts student. Susan had gone to her friend Hannah Abbott’s home, leaving Amelia to eat breakfast alone.

  Suddenly, she noticed an owl perched on the far end of the table, an envelope clutched in its beak. Her wand was in her hand instantly, ready for action. She glanced at the window, puzzled. How had the owl appeared on the table without making the slightest sound? Nothing should have been able to enter the manor without her permission—the wards were designed to ensure that. She checked them quickly; they were intact.

  Returning to the dining hall, she examined the envelope for curses or spells. Finding nothing, she opened it. The letter read:

  “To Madam Amelia Bones,

  You will receive Alastor Moody’s Patronus just about now—”

  A silvery dog glided into the room and halted before her.

  “—it will say: Amelia, it’s Alastor. Quickly come to Crouch’s house with the Aurors. It’s urgent. I have everything under control, but I need your influence if we want to stay ahead of the political shitstorm this will cause.”

  As she read the letter, the silvery apparition of the dog spoke in Alastor’s voice, repeating the message word for word.

  Amelia knew a Patronus was impossible to fake, and Alastor wasn’t one for pranks. If this was a trap, she thought, the enemy had better beware—she was coming in full force.

  …

  Barty Crouch Senior’s House

  With a series of sharp pops, Amelia Bones, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, apparated outside Crouch’s house, accompanied by a team of senior Aurors.

  Alastor Moody was already there, his enchanted eye spinning and scanning relentlessly for anomalies. Despite the lead, he remained deeply suspicious of the so-called ‘Concerned Citizen’ who had tipped them off. Unfortunately, his magical eye failed to detect a tiny beetle lurking nearby, spying from a position blind to its scrutiny.

  …

  The next day, Britain’s wizarding society was met with shocking news splashed across the front page. Former Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Barty Crouch Sr., had been arrested for keeping his “supposedly dead” son under the Imperius Curse at home. The article was as sensational as its headline, expertly spun by Rita Skeeter to strike the perfect tone for inciting public outrage.

  But Harry wasn’t finished yet—the most crucial part of his plan was about to unfold. While he enjoyed breakfast in his main body, his Clone was busy delivering two letters and a cage containing a very important rat.

  The first letter was sent to Rita Skeeter, who once again discovered an envelope on her desk. With a smirk of anticipation, she tore it open, eyes gleaming with curiosity. The previous letter had been a major scoop.

  “Let’s see what our ‘Concerned Citizen’ has for me this time,” she muttered, scanning the parchment. Halfway through, her expression shifted—shock, disbelief, and then sheer exhilaration. This wasn’t just a headline. This was history in the making.

  —

  Meanwhile, in the office of the Head of Magical Law Enforcement, Amelia Bones sat behind her desk, deep in discussion with Alastor Moody. They were puzzling over one burning question—how had Rita Skeeter gotten her hands on such detailed, accurate information? They had already reached the same conclusion: this so-called Concerned Citizen was behind this.

  “Speak of the devil,” Moody growled suddenly, his voice edged with irritation. His magical eye had just swiveled toward an owl perched silently on the side shelf. Once again, he had no idea how or when it had arrived—something that seriously annoyed him. But this time, the delivery was different. The owl hadn’t just brought a letter. It had also left behind a small cage, inside of which lay an unconscious rat.

  Frowning, Moody swept the area for enchantments, checking for spells, curses, or traps. Nothing. Satisfied, he snatched up the letter and read aloud:

  “Addressed to Moody,

  Yeah, I knew you’d be the one to pick this up. But this letter is for both you and Madam Bones.

  Sirius Black, godfather to Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, was imprisoned without a trial.

  Peter Pettigrew, the true betrayer of the Potters, is alive and has been hiding in his Animagus form—a rat—at Hogwarts.

  As you might have guessed, the unconscious rat in the cage is Peter Pettigrew. Check his missing toe, and I’m sure you have the necessary spells to confirm an Animagus transformation.

  – A Concerned Citizen”

  …

  Harry didn’t need his “superior Understanding” ability to grasp why the Weaver’s Map had instructed him to send those letters in that specific sequence. The plan was straightforward: destroy Crouch’s credibility, use that to highlight Sirius Black’s imprisonment without trial, stir public outrage, and ultimately deliver the real traitor. With such a scandal, the Ministry wouldn’t be able to sweep it under the rug.