Disclaimer:
The characters and situations of Harry Potter depicted in this story are the legal property of J.K. Rowling, Bloomsbury, and AOL Time Warner, and have been used without permission. No copyright infringement is intended.

No profit is being made off this story. It is for entertainment purposes only.

Chapter Sixteen

"The Search for Wormtail"

Harry flopped in a kitchen chair after having downed a shot of Firewhiskey, his first ever. He rubbed his throbbing temples and ignored his burning throat as the people around him argued.

"How more irresponsible could you possibly be?" Hermione raved at the twins, who were intent on defending themselves. Ron was set on calming Hermione, while at the same time trying to placate the twins. The result was that all three turned on him and began yelling at once.

"That's enough!" Ginny yelled finally. "What are we doing? We need to stick together now more than ever and all we're doing is arguing amongst ourselves!"

"Ginny's right," Harry said suddenly, looking up from his chair. All eyes revolved to him. "We need a plan," he said simply.

"I vote we squash the rat," Ron said matter-of-factly.

"That's all good and well, Ron, but we have to find him first," Harry said impatiently. He stood up and began to pace nervously. "What we need is a plan on how to flush him out," he told the group.

"How about we break into groups and search each room?" Hermione asked.

"No, no," Harry said, shaking his head. "I've already thought of that. I don't want to risk anyone's safety. Wormtail may be a cowardly traitor, but he's still close to Voldemort and a fully grown wizard. We don't know what else Voldemort has planned for us. For all we know, anything we touch could be a Portkey…" Almost everyone looked around them in fear and suspicion, half afraid to touch anything.

Harry furrowed his brows and looked pointedly at the twins. "Are Portkeys affected by this locking spell of yours?'

The twins immediately huddled together and conversed in hushed whispers. Apparently reaching a conclusion, they both straightened up and shrugged.

"Your guess is as good as ours," Fred replied.

"We never tried Portkeys, for obvious reasons," George replied. "It'd be interesting to find out, though…."

"Yeah… really interesting," Harry said sarcastically, rolling his eyes. "I'd love to be Portkeyed straight to Voldemort for the second time in my life. The first time was so enjoyable!"

"Never thought of it that way…." George said lamely.

"Maybe a Nowhere-To-Be-Found spell?" Ginny suggested, hopefully. "When one of us loses something, Mum does that spell to help locate the lost item."

"No good," Ron said regretfully. "I once lost Scabbers back when I thought he was an ordinary rat and Mum tried that. It didn't work."

"I have an idea," Hermione said suddenly, drawing her wand.

"What?" Harry asked curiously.

"Just stand back and keep your wands trained on me. If this works, you'll see," she told the group.

In a loud voice she bellowed, "Accio Wormtail!"

Everyone's eyes widened as a moment later a frightened looking grey rat came sailing through the air from the direction of the hallway, straight into Hermione's outstretched hand.

As Hermione caught the struggling rat easily in her outstretched hand, Harry couldn't help but marvel at his friend's cleverness. He had not thought to use the Summoning Charm… So simple, yet so brilliant!

Keeping his wand trained on the rat, he stepped closer for a better look. The rat was definitely looking the worse for wear. It had been almost three years since Harry had last seen Pettigrew in his Animagus form and Wormtail had not been looking his best then, either. The stout grey rat's hair was practically threadbare. Dwindling patches could clearly be seen here and there on the short rodent fur, even from a distance. The silvery paw glistened in the light of the Dursley living room as the rat's beady black eyes looked around wildly for possible escape routes.

Before anyone could take the harassed-looking animal from Hermione, however, she let out a squeal of shock and suddenly dropped him. Several things happened at once. No less than four different spells went flying through the air straight for the small creature trying desperately to right himself from his abrupt fall.

In the end, it was Ron's Petrificus Totalus that hit its mark. The little animal stiffened straight as a board, looking as if rigor mortis had set in suddenly.

Instead of running to the rat, however, Ron ran straight for the brown-haired girl whose quick thinking had saved the day. Her face was deathly pale, pain flashing in her eyes. She also appeared to be clutching one hand in the other.

"All right there, Hermione?" he asked worriedly.

"He bit me!" she screeched in indignation.

"Let me see," Ron said through clenched teeth, anger radiating off his person.

Hermione uncovered her hand as Ron tenderly took it in his larger one, moving it slightly to expose the bleeding wound on her palm where the rodent's teeth had made contact. Hermione winced with every unexpected movement.

"Doesn't look too deep," he said relieved. "It will need to be cleaned and bandaged, though. Goodness knows what bloody germs he's got!" Ron said, shooting the frozen rat a disgusted glare. Looking towards Harry, he asked, "Do you have anything to put on this? I'm not familiar with Muggle healing, but something has to be done before she gets an infection."

"I think there's a first aid kit in the cupboard over there." Harry said, pointing to a small cupboard beside the sink. "Let me check." He returned a moment later with a small white box. "Hermione probably knows more about this than I do," Harry said as he handed it over. Ron still had not let go of Hermione's injured hand and she was leaning on him heavily, her face screwed up in pain but a certain air of satisfaction surrounded her. If he didn't know better, he'd swear she was actually enjoying this.

As the pair moved off into the corner of the room to take care of the wound, George reached down and picked up the frozen rat by the tail, raising him to eye level for a better look. "So what are we to do with him?" he asked.

"Not much we can do until your locking spell lifts," Harry said ruefully.

"Yes, but what are we to do in the meantime?" Ginny put in practically. "Ron's curse won't last forever, after all."

"Do you have a cage around here, Harry?" Fred asked.

"No, the Dursleys aren't exactly pet-friendly people," Harry said. "The only cage in the house belongs to Hedwig."

At that statement, the twins looked at each other and raised identical eyebrows.

Catching their meaning, Harry immediately began to back stroke. "Oh no," he said shaking his head and hands violently and backing away. "Hedwig won't ever forgive me if I let you do that."

"Would you rather Pettigrew escape?" George asked rationally.

"Of course not," Harry said. "But… but Hedwig is sensitive," he stammered. "If I let you use her cage, she'd never let me live it down! I'd have to buy out the whole stock of owl treats in Eyelops Owl Emporium just to keep her from biting my hand off every time I want to send a letter," he pleaded.

"Harry," Ginny said quietly from behind him. "You do remember that Hedwig is off hunting right now, don't you?"

"Yeah? So?" he said irritably, swinging around to face her.

She seemed unaffected by his temper. "Maybe she won't notice that anyone has shared her cage while she's been away," she reasoned.

"I doubt that," Harry snorted.

"Do you have a better idea?" she asked pointedly.

"Er… no," he said regretfully.

"How much harm could it do?" she asked.

Against his better judgment he found himself agreeing. The choice would have been harder if Hedwig had been in the house, but she wasn't. Harry didn't have much of an excuse to say no.

After reluctantly retrieving the cage from his room and securing the rat inside, Fred and George did a complicated incantation over the top of it.

"Was that the same spell you used on the house?" Harry asked.

"With a slight variation," Fred said, nodding. "Wouldn't want old Scabbers there to escape, would we? With that spell on the cage, he shouldn't be able to transform once he comes round. The cage is too small and the spell will keep it from breaking apart, should he try. Nature should force him to stay a rat as long as the spell stays in place."

"And he won't be able to Apparate out of there, either," George added.

"But you have no idea how long that spell will last," Harry reminded them.

"That's true," Fred agreed. "But we'll take turns keeping watch. By the time the spell wears off on this place, the members of the Order should be back to take care of our little friend here."

"Fred and I will be responsible for first watch," George volunteered, picking up the cage.

"Where do you think you're disappearing to?" Harry asked in disbelief as the twins started to open the door.

"We need to see how the show is going," Fred said as if it were obvious. "We left Lee and Angelina in charge of entertaining the Muggles."

"Show?" Harry repeated suspiciously. "What show?"

"The magic show, of course," Fred said grandly, as if he was the ringmaster in a travelling circus announcing the next act. He opened the door with a flourish, revealing said show in progress.

Harry couldn't believe what he was seeing. At the moment Lee was in front of the spellbound group of Muggles performing card tricks, only instead of using regular slight of hand illusions he was using his wand to make the cards fly around or disappear then reappear as if by "magic". The girls were clapping, clearly intrigued by how he was doing these "tricks" while the boys, save Dudley, were obviously impressed but trying not to show it.

Dudley, Harry could see, was stuck between horrified and utterly terrified. He had to laugh at the strange combination of emotions flitting over his cousin's drunken, piggy face.

George stepped up to Harry and slung an arm amiably across Harry's shoulders. "You did say to entertain them," he reminded him.

"This isn't exactly what I had in mind," Harry said faintly.

From behind him he heard Hermione hiss, "This is, by far, the most irresponsible thing! If I had known-"

But her voice was drowned out by the gleeful claps and squeals from the crowd assembled in the living room. Angelina had just transfigured one of Aunt Petunia's crystal vases into a wine glass, complete with wine that she drank in rapid gulps to uproarious applause before she transfigured it back to its normal form.

Fred handed the cage off to Ron and together with George they both joined the spectacle in the living room, earning even greater applause than Angelina had. Both bowed theatrically to the crowd and Harry noticed Dudley blanch white, looking like he wanted to throw up on the spot.

"Missed us, have you?" George said, grinning.

"Always," Andrea replied, her face fairly red from either embarrassment or too much alcohol. They seemed to be openly flirting with each other now.

"Well," Fred said. "You're in luck. We've come with reinforcements." He motioned to the shell-shocked Harry, Ron (still holding tightly to Wormtail's prison), a livid-looking Hermione, and an amused Ginny all clustered around the doorway.

Claire turned to the new group and brightened unnaturally when she caught sight of Harry. She squealed and exclaimed loudly, "Oh, Harry, there you are, you naughty boy! I was wondering where you'd got off to." She rushed up to Harry, shoving the others out of the way and clutching his arm roughly, jerking him forward. "Come show us some tricks, Harry. Is it true you can do magic too?" she slurred excitedly.

"Umm… I suppose," Harry admitted awkwardly aware that every eye was now on him.

"He's not as good as us," Fred said loudly.

"But he'll do," George chimed in. "Come show the audience some magic, Harry! This is your house, after all."

"Not technically," Harry muttered, catching sight of Dudley's murderous face and feeling his head throb painfully. His headache seemed to be getting worse, not better, and he was feeling woozy again. Although this time it could be due to the Firewhiskey he'd just downed, he reckoned.

"Can you do that fabulous trick your friends did earlier?" Claire asked him, still clinging to his arm uncomfortably.

Harry's vision was now swimming but he managed to ask, "What trick?" He felt extremely off-balance and funny, but not in a good way.

"The one where you turn someone into a canary." She pointed to Fred and George. "They did that to Dudders earlier and it was hilarious!" She laughed hysterically at the thought.

"Umm…" Harry stuttered. "I don't think I know that one." He was feeling hot now and had the urge to shed some clothes. "I don't think…" he began, but swayed dangerously on his feet. Claire tried to catch him but her balance was off too, and so the result was that they both tumbled to the ground, Claire laughing hysterically again.

"It's time to wrap this show up," Hermione announced.

"Awe," the crowd grumbled.

Harry was trying to disengage from Claire but having a terrible time. Ron finally set the cage down and lent him a hand, but Claire remained on the floor. It soon became apparent why – she was passed out cold.

"What're we going to do with her?" Ron asked.

"Leave her there," Ginny said, unconcerned.

Harry swayed again and Hermione steadied him. "Do you have any sleeping draught in your trunk, Harry?" she whispered.

Harry nodded. "A bit, I think. Madame Pomfrey gave it to me after… you know."

"Can I send someone upstairs to get it?" she asked. "We can slip some in their drinks. Only the girls need it, anyway. The others are pretty much kiboshed now, all on their own."

Harry nodded. He hadn't noticed before, but the Muggles were all rather tipsy. "It's wrapped in an old pair of Uncle Vernon's socks," he said. "I think I saw it on the bottom left-hand side of the trunk." Hermione handed him over to Ginny and rushed to take care of it herself.

"Just where are we all going to sleep?" Ron asked.

"Aunt Petunia has a whole cupboard full of blankets upstairs," Harry offered. "We can also raid the pillows and blankets off all the beds," Harry told the group. "Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia's bedroom is locked, but I'm sure Fred and George can take care of that."

"At your service, Mr. Potter," the twins said. They had come back to take the rat from Ron while the Muggles were milling about. Harry remembered another time back in second year when they had picked the lock on his bedroom door and the cupboard under the stairs in order to help him escape from the Dursleys. They rushed out of the room, presumably to do the same thing upstairs to his aunt and uncle's bedroom door.

He was grateful for Ginny's support as she gently guided him over to a nearby chair. "I think I'll go see to those blankets," she told him.

Still feeling out of sorts, he scanned the room for a distraction after she left. Hermione was still unaccounted for, but he spied Ron close by staring intently at the prison that currently held the Animagus form of Peter Pettigrew.

"All right, there Ron?" he asked, concerned.

"Yeah," his friend said, shrugging, his voice strained and full of anger. "It's just strange to know your pet rat is really a dirty, rotten, lying murderer."

Harry was quiet, sensing his friend's need to vent.

"I never let it bother me before," Ron explained. "But seeing him again after all this time… it makes me wonder how Sirius refrained from killing him back in the Shrieking Shack that time."

Harry knew exactly what Ron was talking about. "I think that would be my fault," he said regretfully. "Sometimes I think I should have stayed out of it and let Sirius and Remus do what should have been done. He's hurt so many people… and I fear more will be hurt, all because I stopped them from killing the stupid, bloody rat!" he said vehemently.

Harry's head gave another painful throb. Sighing audibly, he confessed, "I was so sure at the time that my dad wouldn't want them to be murderers on his account. Now I just don't know." Thinking of Snape's Pensieve, Harry suddenly didn't know what James would have done if he had been there.

"You did the right thing, Harry," Ron assured him. "It was just rotten luck that things turned out the way they did."

"I don't know if I believe in coincidence anymore, Ron," Harry told him stiffly, a cryptic tone edging into his voice. "Not with prophecies and the like out there."

The last was barely a whisper but Ron must have heard. "Now you sound like Hermione, mate," Ron said, a troubled expression crossing his face. "Ever since the Department of Mysteries she has been bugging me to tell her more about Divination. Like I know!" he scoffed.

The two stood in companionable silence for awhile staring at the rat locked in the cage, each lost in their own thoughts. Suddenly Ron burst out, "I wonder what he's doing here."

"I've been wondering that myself," Harry told him. "I'm afraid I already know the answer, though." Harry's mind drifted to the prophecy and Voldemort's reason for wanting him dead.

Their conversation was interrupted by the return of Hermione, who could be seen heading toward them with a small bottle held tightly in her hand. Harry suppressed a smile. He could always count on Hermione to get the job done.

"Care for some help?" he asked her, trying hard not to wince with pain.

"No," she said. "You don't look so good, Harry. I'll just walk around and slip a drop or two in the drinks and let nature takes its course." She bustled off just as Ginny came back with an armload of blankets.

"Can you and Ron please move some of this furniture back as soon as the Muggles go to sleep?" she asked. "We're going to need the space if we're all to camp out down here."

"Why not use the beds?" Ron asked.

He was rewarded with an arched eyebrow from Ginny. "And just who is to sleep in them, Ron?" she asked innocently.

"Ron's right, Ginny," Harry said, ignoring Ron's red face. Both of them turned to him in surprise. "It's silly, really, to have perfectly good beds available and not use them. I say you girls take the beds and let us boys camp out on the floor."

"That's very chivalrous of you, Harry," Ginny retorted, "but we girls can manage fine on the floor. We're much tougher than you seem to think."

"Speak for yourself, Ginny," Angelina said as she walked past. "I, for one, would rather have the bed."

"Well, I insist on the floor," Ginny retorted stubbornly. "Some people might not think I'm incapable of handling myself, but it's only because they don't know me very well."

Harry winced again. He had thought Ginny had forgotten about the incident in the hallway, but obviously not. "Ginny," Harry implored. "Please don't start."

"Start what, Harry?" she asked innocently, crossing her arms and raising an eyebrow in a challenge.

"I told you before I was only trying to protect you," he said, cradling his head.

Angelina, who had not left yet, snorted loudly. "Anyone who can handle being the youngest female in a house full of Weasley boys definitely doesn't need protection," she muttered.

"Too right, Angelina," Ginny sniffed indignantly.

"I know you can handle yourself, Ginny," Harry insisted, looking up. "You've proved that. I just don't want to see you do something to get yourself hurt."

"Like I want to see you, or Ron, or Hermione hurt while I sit back on the sidelines in safety?" she asked, yelling as she whirling on him.

Harry was taken aback by her outburst. He had never seen her this angry before, and it was unnerving, especially since it was directed towards him. Not only that, but her voice was like a hammer to his pounding head. He couldn't think straight. "Well… no," he stammered. "I suppose not."

"To you, I'll always be that little girl who needs saving," she ranted, unaware that she was sending him into convulsions with the volume of her voice alone. "The Great Harry Potter coming to rescue the damsel," she went on bitterly. "I thought you understood, but I was wrong. Well, Harry, I may not be as good as you at Defence Against the Dark Arts, but I'm here to inform you that I can take care of myself!"

He was angry now. Ginny's words were cutting through the pain like a knife through his heart. "Sure you can…" he said sarcastically, "just like you did with the diary." As soon as the words were out of his mouth he regretted them. Ron sucked in his breath and Angelina visibly winced, taking a step back – mostly from the look of pure rage radiating off the young red-head.

"Harry," she said quietly, "I always thought you were a lot of things, but mean was never a word I ever associated with you until this instant."

"I'm sorry… I didn't mean that like it sounded," he said in frustration, feeling like he wanted to throw up on the spot.

"Then explain it to me, Harry, because I'd really like to know." Her voice was icy cold – as cold as her eyes.

"I just want to protect you, okay!" he yelled back, doubling over in pain. He was forced to whisper his next statement. If the room hadn't gone suddenly quiet no one would have even heard him. "I don't want anything to happen to you, Ginny." Here he faltered, his voice suddenly becoming low and raspy. "Like it did before, and like it did to Sirius and… Cedric."

Harry watched all the anger she held inside evaporate like mist. Her hardened features, so rigid with anger only moments before, softened like butter melting in the hot July heat. He knew in an instant that he had been forgiven, and a great weight lifted from his chest. Slowly, he let out a sigh of relief, as if he had been holding his breath for a very long time.

"Well," Ginny said. It was a statement, born of someone who had just heard something unexpected and now didn't know what to say. There was a pregnant pause as dead silence hung in the air. Everyone present in the room was waiting to see what would happen next.

As if struggling with herself, Ginny said stubbornly, "I'm still sleeping on the floor."

"If you are, then I guess I am too… as long as you can forgive me for being a stupid, thoughtless, self-centred prat," Harry said through gritted teeth. He was shaking now with pain, but extremely relieved that it was over. Mentally, he reminded himself to choose his words more carefully in the future - both in and out of moments of crisis.

"I'll sleep on the floor, too," Hermione volunteered, looking at Harry worriedly.

Harry looked around. All of the Muggles were fast asleep.

"That settles it," Ron put in, too. "All four of us are on the floor."

"Suit yourselves," Angelina said, shrugging. "That's just more bed for me." Katie, Alicia, Lee, Fred and George all nodded their agreement. Harry hadn't even noticed them there during his fight with Ginny, and now he felt embarrassed to have caused such a scene.

"Are you all right, Harry?" Katie asked quietly. Everyone was staring at him strangely. "You're as white as a ghost, and you're breaking out in a sweat."

"I'm fine," Harry said, thinking he might retch any minute.

"Let's get the Muggles settled upstairs," Fred suggested. "Then we'll all get a good night's sleep. "George and I will watch the rat first, then Ron and Hermione."

"I'll take third shift," Lee volunteered.

"Me, too," Alicia said.

"That leaves the last one to Katie and me," Angelina said.

"What about Harry and me?" Ginny asked, still sounding peeved.

"You watch over Harry, little sister," George told her seriously. "In case you hadn't noticed, he's not looking so good."

Harry didn't have the energy to protest. He watched as the others quietly made themselves ready for bed and didn't fight them when they insisted he lie down immediately. Something was wrong with him... very wrong, but he didn't know what. He didn't want to think about it now. He was just grateful Ginny had decided to forgive him, and especially glad she had stopped yelling.

A/N: Thanks you Arnel for all your help on this and other projects. Also, in case anyone was wondering… here's the definition of kiboshed and where I found it.

Kiboshed: To end, to terminate, to finish off. E.g." We were kiboshed as soon as we set off." British Slang Dictionary.