Disclaimer: All events in this chapter are referred to in The Prisoner of Azkaban.

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Chapter Twenty-Five

The Truth Will Out

I sat in my office, my mind - which I had been completely unable to switch off recently - racing. I was still thinking about Sirius, about the stag patronus Harry had produced during his quidditch match which had been the spitting image of Prongs, about the full moon that was to rise that night, about the the execution of the Hippogriff that was to take place that evening. The Marauders Map, that had, as I had once jokingly predicted, fallen into Harry's hands, and which I had confiscated for his own safety was now open and working on my desk. I looked down at the parchment, on which I had seen Harry, Ron and Hermione's dots moving down to Hagrid's hut a few minutes before. I wasn't planning on telling anyone, because I had no desire to get them in trouble, particularly as I knew that Harry's actions only corresponded to what James would have done many years before, but I also wanted to watch them carefully, to make sure they were safe.

I was staring idly at the moving dots, fondly remembering the fun we had had creating it, when suddenly my attention was caught once more by Harry and his friends, and I bent closer over the map, unable to believe what I thought I had just seen. The three of them were now leaving Hagrid's hut, but right next to Ron's dot was another. A new one.

Bearing the name Peter Pettigrew.

"As long as they're alive and in the Hogwarts grounds, their true identity will show up on the map."

Sirius had said it, the day we put the identity charm on the map, and the words rang as clearly in my mind as if he were standing next to me, sending my brain into overdrive as I tried to imagine an explanation for my dead friend appearing on the map.

Perhaps the map was just faulty due to its age? I wasn't really kidding myself. James and Sirius's magical talent had always been exceptional, and they had spent many weeks poring over some of the most complex books to ensure that the charms placed on the map were both foolproof and everlasting. Perhaps dark, penetrating magic may have tricked it, bewitched it to show Peter's name. But who could have done it? The only other possessors of the map since our time were Filch and a group of underage students, none of whom would have possessed the power or the motive to do so.

The thoughts that had been greatly troubling me since finding out the details of James and Lily's death resurfaced. The utter disbelief that Sirius could have sold out his dearest friends returned, and as I put this thought together with the almost non-existent possibility that the map could be lying, by heart started racing.

The map was infallible. Which would mean that Peter was indeed running around in the grounds at that very moment. And that would mean that Sirius hadn't murdered him all those years ago. And that might just mean, as I had so desperately wanted to believe, that he had not betrayed Lily and James either. And that... would change everything.

oOo

Light hit the outsides of my eyelids, and I struggled to force them open. Every time a small amount of brightness streamed through the lids I felt an agonising stab in the back of my retinas and a stray image flashed through my brain.

I was running towards the Whomping Willow, immobilizing it for the first time since my school days and plunging into its depths, desperate to find out if what the map had told me was indeed true.

Sirius was crumpled before me, filthy, ragged and broken, but, as I had only just realised, completely innocent of the crimes he had been convicted for, and I was stretching out my hand to pull him to his feet, a lump forming in my throat as I embraced him warmly.

Harry was staring at me in shock, his eyes full of disbelief and hurt, and I was trying to explain, pleading with him to understand before it was too late.

Hermione had discovered my secret, had known about me since being the only one to write the werewolf essay that Snape had set. I should have known, she reminded me in so many ways of Lily, and I was deeply grateful to her for keeping quiet about it. But she was now telling Harry, and I was fervently hoping that his anger at my apparent betrayal wouldn't stop him from listening to what Sirius and I had to say.

"Get away from me, werewolf." Ron's words hit me like a physical pain but I tried my best not to show it. I couldn't blame him for being suspicious and there were far more important issues at stake.

I was trying to describe the road that had led Peter, Sirius and James to becoming an Animagi, trying to tell the story as rationally and as calmly as I possibly could, but even to my ears it sounded like a very convoluted tale, and I had a horrible feeling that Harry didn't believe a word of it. Ron and Hermione were also looking skeptical.

Snape's voice was sneering coldly from behind us as my heart gave a jump of alarm and looked round to see him standing just a few feet away, a malevolent, hatred-filled look on his face.

A surge of hopelessness was overwhelming me as I begged him to listen, to understand, but knew it was pointless as he pointed his wand at my face. Why should he listen to us, after all, given what had happened last time he'd heeded something that Sirius had told him.

There was a bang, and I was lying on the floor, bound and gagged, struggling against the ropes that were twisted tightly around me. Then another bang as Snape was blasted backwards by the force of Ron, Hermione and Harry's disarming charms, and I felt a small flicker of hope. Maybe Harry would listen to us after all.

Ron's rat was transforming before our eyes, into an older, plumper, more balding, but very recognizable version of the boy with whom I had spent my entire youth, and I felt disgust rise up inside me as I looked down at him. How could I never have suspected that he was the traitor all along?

Sirius was apologising for thinking I was the spy, but I was feeling too guilty at suspecting him to feel hurt myself. I could tell that he had suffered far more than I had in recent years, but looking into his sunken, haunted eyes, I saw the tiniest flicker of warmth as they gazed back at me, and I realised that however much had changed, the friend I had known and loved was still there somewhere. I had been wrong to ever doubt him.

Sirius was explaining his own side of the story, how he had persuaded James to switch secret keepers, how the knowledge of his innocence had kept him sane in Azkaban, how he had slipped past the dementors and escaped the dreaded, deserted fortress, how he had come to watch Harry play quidditch, and as I saw Harry's face soften, I knew that the battle was won, that he understood. Harry believed us.

Peter, very much alive and cringing before us, was sobbing as Harry begged us not to kill him, and I felt an inexplicable sense of relief as I exchanged a glance with Sirius and we both lowered our wands. However much I hated him in that instant, Harry was right. James would never have wanted us to become murderers for the sake of one spineless little coward.

We were all awkwardly shuffling through the tunnel under the tree, and in spite of the bizarre turn of events and the painful reminder of Lily and James' death, I was feeling happier than I had in a very long time. Sirius was innocent. And alive. And soon he would be free.

The moon was appearing from behind a cloud and my spirits plummeted instantly as I remembered the horrible truth. I had missed my potion.

Entirely against my will, my body was changing, my spine curving, my face elongating. The filthy creature that had been dormant and contained inside me all year was escaping, unleashed once more into his fully-fledged, monstrous form. A horrible howl was issuing from my own mouth as the light of the full moon hit the dead centre of my eyes. Then everything became a blur.

Finally, my eyes snapped fully open, and as my pupils adjusted to the light I realised that the soft feeling beneath my back was not my mattress, but the moss covered ground of the forest. The light hitting my eyes was from the sun that was streaming in through the thicket of branches curving above me. My clothes were in shreds. My limbs were aching more than they had in a very long while. My head was pounding. And my mouth was dry with fear. What had I done?

oOo

Dumbledore surveyed me carefully. He had just filled me in on the details of the night's events and I was too shocked to say anything much at all.

"You're sure that I didn't bite anyone?" I said urgently. I didn't remember biting anyone, but then I never remembered every single thing that happened during my transformations, and I couldn't shake off the horrible thought that I might have bitten Harry, Ron or Hermione, who would have been completely defenseless against my bestial form. Or Sirius, who might not have been able to transform in time. Or even Snape. Little as I liked him, I wouldn't have wished that upon anyone.

"Quite sure," Dumbledore affirmed gently.

I took in a deep breath. That was a relief, of course, but it didn't change what I knew would now have to be my course of action.

"I'm sorry, Professor Dumbledore," I said. "I will resign immediately, of course."

Dumbledore looked quite shocked. "Resign?" he inquired. "Why? I have nothing to blame you for, Remus. I have already explained to the minister that you were doing everything you possibly could to help. He does not know all the intricate details, of course, but I am well aware that had you not intervened the situation may have spiraled wildly out of control. Peter would have been killed, in his rat form, without explanation. Harry, Ron and Hermione would never have understood the truth and Sirius would have been subjected to the mercy of the dementors without further questioning. It is unfortunate, certainly, that you missed your potion, but with a little more precaution there is no reason why that situation should repeat itself!"

He was looking at me kindly, but the thought that I may have bitten someone was not the only thing on my mind. I knew that Dumbledore was now aware of our animagus transformations and what we had got up to at school, and I could barely meet his gaze for fear of seeing anger in his wise old face.

"I betrayed your trust, Professor Dumbledore," I said, feeling like an eleven-year-old boy in trouble again, disgraced and ashamed. "I put others in danger. Both back then and this year."

I felt the guilt I had been battling with all year besiege me. I would never really be able to express how deeply grateful I was to Dumbledore for letting me into the school in the first place, then for giving me not only a job, but a chance to reconnect with the wizarding world. Nor could I explain how terrible I felt for leading my best friends and other students into danger. "I'm sorry," was all I could manage, hating myself for the feebleness of the word. But Dumbledore's smile didn't falter for a second.

"Then, as I am perfectly willing to accept your apology, I see no reason why you should not continue to teach here," he said. "You have been a big success with most of the students and I am quite sure that Harry, Ron and Hermione can be trusted to keep your secret."

I still hesitated.

"Please consider it, at the very least," Dumbledore said and I nodded reluctantly, still unsure of what to do. "Wonderful!" he continued. "Now, I suggest that we both go and get some breakfast. I believe there are blueberry pancakes today."

I was heartened by his bracing tone, but we had barely stepped out of his office when I realised something was very wrong. A group of students we passed on the stairs immediately quickened their pace and I heard them break into urgent, scandalised whispers behind me. We had almost reached the entrance hall when two girls, both giving me a horrified glance, turned and ran the other way. Finally,we were just about to enter the great hall when a group of third year Slytherins walked out through the great wooden doors and stopped dead at the sight of me. Pansy Parkinson let out a piercing laugh, Blaise Zabini gave a low snigger and Draco Malfoy merely looked at me with contempt.

"So the truth's out," he drawled. "Wait until my father hears that Hagrid wasn't the only scum I had teaching me this year!"

Dumbledore pointedly cleared his throat next to me, and Draco fell silent, but his pale eyes still looked at me with distaste, and the sense of foreboding I had experienced upon exiting Dumbledore's office reached a peak. If I needed anything more to confirm my suspicions, it came in the form of Severus Snape, who exited the great hall shortly after his most prized pupils and stopped dead at the sight before his eyes.

Pansy let out another high-pitched shriek of glee and Malfoy smirked. "Get to class, all of you," Snape said to them, but there was no hint of reprimand in his voice, merely satisfaction.

"Severus?" Dumbledore's voice was cold as he looked towards the man for an explanation, but even this could not quench the triumphant glitter in Snape's eyes.

"Draco came to me during breakfast and said that he had heard disturbances last night and I'm sorry to say, caught up as I was in trying to present him with a brief but satisfactory explanation-" Snape's mouth twisted a little as he confirmed what I had already guessed. My secret was out and would no doubt be over the whole school within an hour.

"It is very unfortunate," Snape finished, his face saying the exact opposite, but I had already decided that I wouldn't retaliate and would instead retain what little dignity I had left. After all, I had been seriously thinking about resigning anyway. I would just take this as a sign that it was what I was meant to do. I sighed and turned to Dumbledore. "Well, that makes my choice a little easier, at least, headmaster. I might as well go and sort out the paperwork now."

Dumbledore sighed too, but did not attempt to protest as I turned away. He knew, as well as I did, that Snape had finally won this particular battle.

Tonks comes in next chapter!

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