Frank and Alice listened quietly throughout the story. Alice gasped a few times, and Peter could only hope she was horrified at the situation rather than at him. It was only one drop of veritaserum, enough to keep him honest without forcing him to spill any secrets... but it made it hard to stop talking once he'd started, and he was a bit more brutally honest about the details of his choices than he had been even with himself. Any time he found himself rationalizing something, and knew he was rationalizing it, he could no longer say it.
Wow, that's really useful. Self-honesty is a hard skill. How did I never know that a single drop of veritaserum is enough to make me face it when I'm deceiving myself?!
By the time he finished recounting his duel with Sirius, Alice looked a bit angry. But when she spoke, her voice was calm and understanding: "Peter, you know we don't blame you, right? You did the best you could in your situation, and either of us would have done the same thing. Sirius probably would have done the same thing," - here Peter snorted, because he was confident that Sirius would have done something stupider, like attack the Dark Lord and get himself killed and then have the Potters die to Fiendfyre anyway - "well okay, maybe not, but he really couldn't have blamed you if he'd heard you out. I'm so sorry that he attacked without listening."
Frank's reaction was more practical. "Can we see your hand? We're not healers, but Alice knows enough diagnostic spells to check whether you stopped the curse from spreading."
Peter held out his hand, trying to suppress the wave of emotion at hearing Alice's support. Why wasn't I closer with the Longbottoms before? They're such good people. He felt a wave of resentment at Sirius for not being the one to support him, then shook his head, trying to push away that traitorous thought. He wasn't sure he deserved their sympathy, but given the veritaserum, at least he knew that he'd presented his story honestly and they'd made their own conclusions.
While Alice muttered charms over his fingers, Peter continued thinking about the veritaserum. "Do you two mind if I experiment a bit? I've never taken veritaserum before, and it's expensive enough that... I'd like to make the most of this." (He had started to say that it was expensive enough that he wouldn't get another chance, but some part of his brain argued that there were probably plenty of ways he could access veritaserum if he really needed to, and forced him to pause until he found a true phrasing.) The two nodded.
First, Peter tried thinking some obviously false statements. The sky is green. He could hear it in his own thought-speech as normal, but he couldn't say it aloud. "The sky is…" He could abort the statement, but he couldn't make himself finish it with "green."
Hmm, even the aborted statement is technically a valid sentence. The sky exists, that's true. What if I tried to abort a sentence somewhere that left it false? "'The sky is green' is a false statement." He'd tried to stop after "green," but he'd been compelled to keep going until he'd said something that wouldn't mislead the listener into believing something false. He could stop after the word "false," so apparently he didn't need to say things that were grammatical.
Next, he tried some statements whose truth value he didn't know. "Five hundred thirteen times six hundred fifty two is…" He couldn't complete the sentence, so veritaserum wasn't injecting knowledge into his brain, nor would it let him finish with plausible-sounding answers like "three hundred twenty thousand, four hundred and sixteen."
Frank was watching with interest, and when Peter paused to think of more experiments, he suggested, "Try other languages, and nonsense languages, and statements in languages you don't know."
Peter knew a bit of Spanish, and apparently that was sufficient to block him from saying "el cielo es verde." On the other hand, he could easily say gibberish like "binka dudu vod rebleg," even though it was possible that meant something false in some language somewhere. Alice supplied two statements in French, one true and one false, without telling him which was which; Peter found that he couldn't repeat either.
"The first one was the true one," she revealed. "Can you say it now?"
Peter could.
"That's interesting," Alice smirked, "because I lied. The second one was the true one."
Peter could no longer say the first sentence, and he couldn't say the second one either. On reflection, he realized he didn't trust that Alice wasn't lying this time.
I wonder if I can create my own language that permutes the words of English to mean different things so I can say things in it under veritaserum. Peter experimented with that for a while, but couldn't get it to work.
After about a half hour, the potion was noticeably wearing off, which is to say that Peter could lie again but only with enormous effort. They returned to the subject at hand, and Alice muttered a final diagnostic spell over his finger stump.
She frowned. "Your flesh is healthy, but it looks like a bit of the magic got into your bloodstream before you removed the finger. That's not the curse's usual attack vector, so your immune system might be able to clear it out naturally over time. It's circulated through your body now, so it's nothing we could solve by further amputation anyway."
"Should I go to St. Mungo's?"
Alice shook her head. "Dark families usually don't bother teaching their children curses whose cures are already known to hospitals. I think your best hope is to rest for a few days and see if it goes away."
"Would Sirius know how to cure it?" Peter wondered. He wasn't sure what he'd do if he did.
"Maybe," she said. "The Blacks would have wanted to make sure their own family members couldn't be hurt by the spells they invented, so they probably did develop a cure. I'll see if I can find a way to ask Sirius without letting him know you came here."
Peter nodded appreciatively.
"Relatedly," Frank resumed awkwardly, "I'm still not sure why you did come here."
Alice nudged him with her shoulder. "He needs a place to stay, obviously. If he can't rely on Sirius right now, who better than us?"
Peter nodded, embarrassed. "I'm not sure where else to go. I don't want to be an imposition, but I'd really appreciate a spot on your couch, at least until they put the Death Eaters in prison. I'd be happy to help out with the chores and such..."
Alice was looking at him with amusement, and he remembered too late that they lived in a mansion with a dozen spare bedrooms and a house elf.
Frank smiled. "Of course you can stay here, as long as you need. Our elf Tammy will get you set up in the master bedroom of the north wing."
"Thank you so much," Peter said with audible relief. "Any rules of the house I should know about?"
Frank exchanged a glance with Alice. "We haven't been going outside the wards much, except to visit warded friends' homes through the Floo. We'd appreciate it if you did the same, unless there's an emergency. We know you're a cautious person, but with Death Eaters after you… well, you can make your own decisions, but remember that if you get imperiused it'll put us at risk too," he finished awkwardly.
Peter nodded. "Believe me, I wasn't planning on leaving safety any time soon. I wouldn't want to endanger you two either."
"It might be better if you didn't even contact friends," Alice interjected. "Lay low, pretend to be dead. After that nasty curse Sirius sent at you, people would believe it. We don't know who might be a spy for the Death Eaters, but if they don't think you're alive, they won't come after you." She saw him hesitate. "At least until the situation has calmed down a bit and they've rounded up most of Voldemort's supporters. Of course you can reach out to Sirius once he's cooled off."
It made sense. Peter nodded agreement, resigning himself to cutting off contact with the outside world.
Peter woke late the next morning. The three of them had talked for a long time, discussing security precautions and plans for the future. They'd had a late supper, and then Peter had retired to catch up on sleep. Now, the sun was nearing its zenith, and Peter felt rested for the first time in the two days since his capture.
Peter showered, dressed, and ventured down to the dining room. Finding it empty, he called, "Tammy?"
Tammy appeared with a pop and bowed. "Masters Alice and Frank left the message that they had gone to visit Augusta. Can Tammy get you some breakfast?"
"Some eggs and pancakes, please?" Ever since Peter had been chased in his rat form by a dormmate's cat, he hadn't been able to eat animals; he remembered the feeling of being hunted too strongly. "Oh, also tea and a copy of the paper, if it's not too much trouble."
The breakfast was delicious, but when he saw the front page of the paper, he lost his appetite.
Sirius had been sentenced to prison for the deaths of Lily, James, and Peter himself.
Azkaban was the Dementors' fortress, and had stood strong for centuries on a barren rock in the middle of the North Sea. It was a place where most magic stopped working: at an approximately seventy meter distance around the island, spells fizzled in the air against an imperceptible barrier, transfigurations were returned to their previous forms, conjurations disappeared, and broomsticks fell to the ground. Any attempts to perform those magics inside the barrier would fail; wizards practically became muggles inside the fortress. Time travel and apparition were equally impossible. (For whatever reason, Peter had heard, you could still interact with magic in ways that affected yourself, as long as you didn't change your environment: you could drink potions or perform human transfigurations to increase your own survivability, but Azkaban remained constant around you. This exception made little sense even to the people studying it in the Department of Mysteries - surely the people were part of the environment - and they were trying to find a patch for it, since it was one of the few security holes in the prison. In the meantime, they scanned people for potions at the border, and took away prisoners' wands.)
Right outside of the no-magic-zone, the Ministry had erected a huge spherical ward. No humans could pass through in the outward direction without being keyed into the system, a form of access they only granted to Aurors who brought prisoners in, and to the rare prisoners who survived to the end of their sentences. (When he heard this, Peter had immediately seen a problem with the word "humans." Unfortunately, Azkaban was in the middle of an ocean, and a lot of fish passed through the barrier underwater, which meant that barring all forms of life was a no-go.)
In summary, once prisoners entered Azkaban, they couldn't cast spells to blast their way out of their cells, unlock their doors, or fight off the dementors. If by some miracle they made it to the edge of the no-magic zone, they were faced with a ward, which couldn't be disrupted without using magic that was, again, blocked on the inside.
If that wasn't enough, prisoners rapidly deteriorated inside Azkaban. They lost much of their vitality and magical strength; within a week, very few had the power to cast anything wandlessly. They lost hope; within a month, even fewer could even think of escape. They lost sanity; if there were a strategy that could get out of Azkaban, its prisoners were not in good enough condition to find it.
Nobody had ever escaped.
Hovering invisibly on a broomstick a hundred meters outside of the ward, Peter couldn't help but think: This is an incredibly bad idea.
The paper had explained that since Sirius Black was obviously guilty, and that since they had many other Death Eater trials to squeeze in, he would be sent straight to Azkaban without a trial in accordance with the Crouch Act of 1979. He would be taken to the prison that afternoon on the daily ferry trip to Azkaban, along with six other criminals and two auror guards.
Peter couldn't help but think that if Sirius was getting shipped to prison while actual Death Eaters got trials, the justice system must be in the pocket of a Death Eater - perhaps Abraxas Malfoy.
Peter had pondered how to get Sirius a trial anyway. He could come forward, discarding the safety of being presumed dead in favor of getting the truth out. Unfortunately, even if he did manage to secure a trial, it would probably be weeks before it was scheduled, and the same political factions that had evidently managed to get Sirius shipped to Azkaban without a trial might find him guilty despite the evidence. (A small part of Peter's brain pointed out that there was plenty of reason to find Sirius guilty because of the evidence; attempting to murder your friend with a dark curse was generally frowned upon in wizarding society.)
Regardless, Sirius couldn't wait for weeks. His family was prone to insanity, and Azkaban was notoriously bad for mental health. It would also permanently weaken his magical strength, and the Order needed fighters like Sirius to be at their best. Maybe these were all justifications, but the bottom line was that Peter could not let another friend suffer for his actions. I'm going to save Sirius from Azkaban or die trying.
Okay, that wasn't true. There were lots of non-fatal failure modes. But it had sounded more heroic, and Peter needed some motivation.
Peter had considered asking the Longbottoms for their help again. He would feel bad leaving the wards without their support, after the conversation they'd had last night. Plus they were stronger fighters than he was, and knowledgeable about Auror procedures. But they were also loyal to the Aurors, and he didn't want to ask them to betray their colleagues on this mission. For that matter, there was no point having multiple people complicit in his planned crime.
So, no, it would be just him and Sirius. Peter was confident that Sirius would forgive him once he rescued him from Azkaban - that would be pretty much the most awesome Marauder mission ever, and clear proof that he was willing to stick his neck out for his friends - and they would cure the curse in his bloodstream and maybe things could go back to having a semblance of normalcy.
Peter wasn't going to try anything so stupid as breaking Sirius out of Azkaban, of course. If the strongest dark wizards had never managed to escape the unbreachable fortress, then Peter had no chance. Instead, he had a plan to rescue Sirius from the ferry on the way to Azkaban.
He concentrated on transfiguring the small rock that he'd brought, expanding it until it looked like a sleeping Sirius. Then he levitated and disillusioned it. The ferried prisoners were kept asleep to minimize their chances to escape en route, so it should be a good decoy replacement for Sirius… at least until the ferry passed into Azkaban's domain and the transfiguration was canceled.
When the ferry came into sight, Peter angled his broomstick toward it. He recognized Auror Lee and Auror Smith standing guard, and flew high above them, descending just enough that he could identify Sirius among the unconscious prisoners. Travers, Mulciber, and Dolohov slumbered near him, along with three other Death Eaters that Peter couldn't identify. With a slow motion of his wand, the invisible decoy-Sirius lowered itself into position right next to the real Sirius. Now for the tricky part: he needed to distract the aurors long enough to disillusion the real Sirius and reveal the fake one, without looking like anything had changed.
Before Peter could think up a good distraction, one presented itself. There was a loud crack of apparition above them, followed closely by another crack. Bellatrix and Rodolphus dropped from the sky on Comet 220 broomsticks, screaming out curses as they flew. Evidently I'm not the only one who thought of rescuing prisoners from the ferry; I'm merely the most subtle, Peter thought, closely followed by a string of mental swear words.
None of the curses were fatal, for once. Perhaps the Lestranges didn't have enough confidence in their aim from broomsticks to avoid hitting their sleeping comrades in the moving boat. Since the Crouch Act, the Aurors had no such restrictions: Auror Smith began firing avada kedavras at the dodging brooms while Auror Lee spewed out nonverbal cutting hexes. As the Death Eaters focused fire on the one who could cast the killing curse, Peter tried to fly around to get a better shot at them. He twisted wildly in the air to dodge one of Lee's diffindos that went wide. Recovering, he aimed a stunner at Bellatrix's back, but it bounced off her shields harmlessly, and she didn't even seem to notice. Shit. He glanced briefly back at the boat to see that Smith had been stunned (or maybe worse).
Next he levitated the invisible decoy-Sirius and slammed it into Bellatrix. She collided hard, and her broom spiraled down disorientedly. Auror Lee finally managed to get a cutting hex through her shields, just as he succumbed to another stunner from Rodolphus. Peter was impressed: even given that Bellatrix was distracted, piercing her shields would require powerful and precise spellcasting on Lee's part. Bellatrix began spurting blood as she continued her out-of-control descent. Rodolphus went after her, stabilizing and healing her, and giving Peter a few seconds of reprieve.
Peter considered his options quickly. He could disillusion Sirius and levitate him, and the two of them could make an escape. But Peter couldn't levitate a body at the same time as casting other spells, so he'd have to leave the rest behind. The Death Eaters would free their six comrades and kill the two Aurors on the boat. Peter shuddered at the thought of Dolohov walking free; he was a powerful enough duelist to have taken down both the Prewett brothers.
He could instead try to fight Bellatrix and Rodolphus - a fight he would almost surely lose, and one that could endanger Alice and Frank too if he were imperiused rather than simply killed.
Or he could cast a few depulsos, pushing the ferry the remaining fifty meters through the barrier to the waiting dementors. Lee and Smith would be safe there; Sirius and the six sleeping Death Eaters would be consigned to a life sentence in prison.
In the days following that moment, Peter would imagine a hundred creative solutions, ways he might have been able to save his friend without abandoning the rest of them. But in those few seconds he had to act, he only thought, forgive me, Sirius, as his banishing charms propelled the boat into the zone of no return around Azkaban.
Thank you for all the reviews! They make me excited to post more.
