SHAMELESS PLUG!

My first original novel, Strangers In Boston, is now available on Amazon under my pen name, T.S. Mann (get it?). It's free to Kindle Prime members and $4.99 to people who want to download the Ebook. Paperback copies are available for $12.99. Check it out, and if you like it, please leave a review. Basically, it's American Harry Potter. Except there's no school, no wands, and if you use magic improperly, it can drive you insane and possibly destroy the world. No pressure or anything.

We now return you to your regularly scheduled fanfic.

Harry Potter
and the Death Eater Menace

Harry Potter and all associated characters and situations are the property of
J.K. Rowling. I make no claim to ownership.

TRIGGER WARNING: This character contains significant violence, character deaths, and lots and lots of rats.

Chapter 51: The King of Rats

The DMLE Detention Center
4:30 p.m.

The prisoner was still lying in his cot pretending to nap when the door slid open with a clang. He opened one eye and smiled. He'd been expecting this conversation for a while.

"Good afternoon, James!" exclaimed Peter Pettigrew, Esq., Death Eater and traitor to the House of Potter. "And what can I do for my favorite client today?"

James said nothing until after he'd cast some high-level security Charms. After everything that had happened over the last few days, the man felt he needed this confrontation, but there was no call for anyone else to listen in. Once that was done, he conjured a chair to sit in.

"Why?" he finally said.

"Could you be a bit more specific, Prongs?" Pettigrew responded. "I've been asked a lot of questions since I was brought in. They all rather blend together at the moment."

James glared at him. "Pick one. Why did you betray my family? Why did you betray me? Why did you become a Death Eater?"

Peter laughed. "Here's another: Why should I answer your questions after resisting interrogation and torture for the last two days?"

"Because … this may be our last chance to speak about this. In a few hours, you'll be taken down to the Unspeakables for interrogation. I don't know much about their techniques, but from the rumors, there's a chance you may not be coming back with your mind intact. So, right now, I'm not here to gather evidence. I'm here because … I want to understand. Ever since Sirius was sent to prison … No, ever since we sent Sirius to prison, I've considered you my best friend. Was it all a lie? Were we ever friends?"

Peter studied James's face for a moment and noticed his still-bruised jaw.

"Ah! Let me guess. You went to see Padfoot to apologize for sending him to Azkaban. And he accepted your apology with his usual grace!"

James's face darkened. "Never mind about that! Just tell me! What did I do to make you hate me so much you'd become a Death Eater?"

Peter snorted. "Nothing, James. You did nothing. Which was all it took. We four were inseparable at Hogwarts. And honestly, I naively thought we'd be that way forever. And then … we graduated, and you promptly cut me and Remus out of your life. You and Dear Old Sirius sauntered off to the Auror Academy, and you claimed a Wizengamot Lordship at the age of 20. Meanwhile, Remus was sent to Europe as one of Dumbledore's disposable agents, and I … was on my own. From your wedding day until the day you came with me to my father's vault – almost a year and a half later! – we met together probably less than ten times, and not once at your request."

"Peter, I'm sorry if you felt … abandoned. But for Merlin's sake! To join the Death Eaters over it?!"

He sat up in his bunk and studied James. "You know my heritage now, right?"

James nodded. "Last of the Kleinwuchs, and through them the last heir of Emeric the Evil. Is that it? You were feeling lonely and then found out where your family came from, so you decided to just … embrace it?"

"James, in the space of a single day, I found out where my family came from – that I was the last in a long line of dark wizards. I also found out that my mother had never truly been ill but was just cruelly manipulating me my whole life as part of some sick psychological game. I also found out that my mother had murdered my father and grandfather and intentionally ensured that I'd grow up destitute. And finally, I found out that James Potter, who I foolishly thought was the only friend I had left, secretly viewed me a charity case who only tolerated me out of pity! A weakling and a suck-up who only followed him around to mooch off his wealth! A minion who was no longer needed! So yeah, I decided that day that since being a Gryffindor hero was apparently a sucker's game, I would become a Gryffindor villain."

He leaned back against the cell wall. "And as it turned out, I was surprisingly good at it … as dear old Padfoot can attest."

"Dammit, Peter, I'm … I'm sorry we grew apart after graduation. But I never saw you as a minion or a weakling, I promise. I always saw you as a friend."

Peter laughed.

"I'm sure you believe that, Prongs," he said almost pityingly. "But your understanding of the word 'friend' has always been limited. Your only real friend growing up was Sirius Black, though personally, I'd describe that relationship as more as a sort of weird and slightly homoerotic co-dependency in which two chronic bullies bonded over a shared taste in victims."

"What?!" James sputtered angrily. But Peter just continued the speech he'd been rehearsing in his head over the last several years.

"The James Potter I knew at Hogwarts divided the whole world into two groups. Group one consisted of those who were in a position of authority over him, those who had something he wanted, and those who were impressed with his exploits and happy to cheer his name. That group got the full measure of the Potter Heir's charm. Group two consisted of those who were not impressed by him and who had nothing to offer that he wanted. Oh, and also Slytherins. Can't leave out the Slytherins. And group two got treated as enemies to be crushed with mean-spirited pranks and belittling insults. Naturally, I decided two weeks after we met that my best chance to avoid seven years of misery was to get myself into group one, as soon as possible, which I achieved by signing up for the role of Potter's Minion and Chief Whipping Boy."

"That's not true," James said quietly. "I know the Marauders meant more to you than that. I think it still does today, Peter. Even when you were preparing to go on the run, one of the few things you felt important enough to carry with you was a picture of the Marauders from back in our school days. I found it in the bag you had with you when you were arrested."

Peter's eyes widened. "Did you really? Where is it now? I figured Lily would have claimed it for target practice or something."

James shook his head. "It's in my office. All the rest of it is in the DMLE evidence lockup, including your wand. Which, by the way, was tested after your arrest and shows that you've cast Unforgiveables. Whether you confess or not, you're going to Azkaban."

The Death Eater looked away so that the other man couldn't see the gleam in his eye. "So it would seem. You can keep the picture if you want. Hang it on your office wall so you can remember the innocence of youth. It means nothing to me now."

"Fine," James said with finality. "So, you decided that I took your friendship for granted. How did you go from that to becoming a Death Eater?"

Peter shrugged. "My grandfather's portrait told me about Augustus Rookwood's … proclivities. I remembered him fondly from our school days as being the first teacher who ever thought I had any potential – which was rather ironic when you think about it. Anyway, I contacted him and eventually agreed to spy on the Order of the Phoenix on his behalf."

Pettigrew laughed. "And you wanna hear something funny? For the first six months I worked for Old Gus, I genuinely thought I was really working for the Unspeakables. I discovered he was a Death Eater by chance while sneaking into his home as a rat to deliver a report on the latest Order meeting, only to overhear him talking to Bellatrix Lestrange about a raid. Later, I let him know what I'd discovered, and we came to an understanding. I'd continue to spy for him, and he'd give me instruction in the Dark Arts. Between his tutelage and the grimoires in my Grandfather's vault, I turned out to be a very quick study indeed."

"And I guess that was when Rookwood gave you samples of that potion that you later used to Obliviate Lily and me," James said coldly.

"Yep. Believe it or not, I didn't use any magic to persuade Sirius to let me replace him as Secret Keeper. Having decided that I would never get any respect from either of you, I was perfectly happy to play the role of pathetic sniveling Wormtail as needed, and I put the idea that no one would suspect me into his head and let him do the rest."

He laughed cruelly. "To quote one of my favorite Muggle films, "evil will always triumph … because good is dumb."

James's face hardened. "Your triumph was short-lived, Wormtail. I remember the truth now, and you're going to pay for your crimes!"

Peter scoffed. "I'd hardly call thirteen years 'short-lived,' Prongs. And whatever happens, not even the Dementors will be able to steal away the memories of how I fooled you all."

Then, he tilted his head quizzically. "By the way, you've obviously recovered your memories about the Secret Keeper. Did the Remembrall show … anything else?"

James scowled as he recalled the pattern of flashing blue lights from the Remembrall even after his memories about the Fidelius were restored.

"It shows that I still have a lot of voluntary Memory Locks, I assume from our times in the Shrieking Shack."

"Yeah, I imagine so. For what it's worth, I don't remember any of it either. I only know what Rookwood revealed to me: that the Unspeakables were monitoring us the whole time we were at school and with Dumbledore's blessing as part of their experiments on Remus. 'The Greater Good' and all that rubbish. But that reminds me. Obviously, Sirius reacted poorly to seeing you again. Have you talked with dear old Moony yet?"

"No," James said hesitantly. "I know he's at Hogwarts. The Fidelius that protected his identity has failed."

"He revealed the Secret to me months ago," Peter said smugly. "He was rather adamant about not revealing it to you."

"And you betrayed his trust by promising to feed my sons to him!" James snapped.

"Really just Harry. I offered to let Lily choose, but I was just screwing with her head. I would never have let Remus harm my godson. But your precious Slytherin Heir was another matter."

"You're behind the times," James snapped. "Harry is no longer my Heir. Earlier today, he went before the Wizengamot and officially disclaimed House Potter."

"Oh good. I'm glad you finally got your wish. How much did you have to pay him?"

James bristled. "That's none of your concern. Though what happened next was interesting. Peter, did you know that Lily is descended from House Wilkes?"

Peter's shock and surprise were visible. "Get out! Lily is related to Mr. Toymaker! Rookwood introduced me to him, you know. I found him quite affable. Viciously cruel where Muggles and Mudbloods were concerned, but otherwise a charming fellow with a delightful sense of humor."

Then, he paused, and his eyes widened. "Waitaminute! This came out today? Oh, don't tell me! Did that little bastard of yours claim the Wilkes Heirship?!"

"… The Lordship!"

Pettigrew stared at his former friend before bursting into laughter. "AHAHAHA! Oh sweet Merlin, that is hilarious! I knew there was something off about Harry, but I never dreamed he could be that much of a Slytherin! Hell, I should have been trying to convert him to the Dark Lord's side this whole time instead of scheming to murder him. You must be so proud of the little tyke!"

"SHUT UP!" James yelled as he finally lost his temper. "I DID NOT COME HERE TO BE MOCKED BY SOMEONE WHO'S BEEN BETRAYING ME FOR OVER A DECADE!

"Then why are you here, Prongs?" Peter said lazily. "What's the point of this conversation?"

James rubbed his face with his hands. "I … I don't know. But in a few days, you'll be gone to Azkaban. I guess … I guess I just had some hopes that it was all a big mix-up. Or that I'd find some sign that you'd been Imperiused. But no. This … this is all you, isn't it? This is what you've chosen to be."

"Yes, James," he said simply. "Everything that has happened between us since 1981 has been by my choice. And I have no regrets. None at all."

"So be it," James said as he stood and vanished the chair. "You've hurt me, Peter. Me and Jim both. But we'll survive. And you'll never hurt anyone again."

With that, James turned and touched his wand to the door to open it. But then, Peter spoke again.

"Oooh, I dunno, James. I think I might still have a little pain left to inflict."

James turned back to his former friend. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Peter grinned toothily. "Just between us, James. How much did you pay Harry to leave House Potter?"

The other man's eyes narrowed. "If you must know, eleven million galleons."

Peter fell back in his cot laughing uproariously.

"What?!" James snapped. "What's so funny? I told you once I'd be willing to give it all up to get Harry out of the family!"

"Oh, I remember, Prongs. That's what makes it so entertaining!"

Peter looked up at him with eyes that danced merrily. "Because the whole time I've been your Seneschal, you have never once looked at an actual Gringotts bank statement as opposed to the easy-to-read summaries I gave you!"

James's face went pale. "You son of a bitch!" he exclaimed almost dazedly.

With that, James turned and practically ran out of the cell and slammed the door shut behind him, the sound of Peter's mocking laughter ringing in his ears.

Gringotts Bank
4:52 p.m.

"Excuse me," James asked the bank teller in a trembling voice. "I know it's late on a Saturday, but I am James Potter, Lord of the Ancient and Noble House of Potter, and I need to speak to my account manager immediately. It's a bit of an emergency."

The goblin teller looked down from the high window at James. His expression indicated that an emergency on James's part did not necessarily equal concern on his.

"The name of your account manager?" the goblin asked imperiously.

James considered the question and then froze, his face a sudden mask of terror. Had it really been eight years since he'd spoken face to face with the Potter Family account manager? Had he really been so stupid as to trust Wormtail for that long?

"It's, um, been a while," he stammered. "I … I think his name had something to do with … bones?"

The goblin teller snorted. "That could be Mr. Bone-Splitter, Mr. Bone-Crusher, or Mr. Bone-Snapper. Or possibly Mr. Marrow-Drinker, depending on how broadly we interpret 'something to do with bones.' If you cannot narrow it down from there, I'll have to consult the records. Please have a seat in the waiting area. I will send for you when your account manager has been … identified."

James accepted the dismissal and made his way to a nearby leather chair. Forty-five minutes later, the teller approached and loudly called for "Lord Potter." James rose, somewhat amazed that it was possible to invest the word "Lord" with such contempt. The diminutive creature stalked over to meet James, his bestial features and jagged teeth an odd contrast to the tailored pinstripe suit he wore.

"Yes?"

The goblin didn't even bother to hide his annoyance with James's waste of his time. "Mr. Rib-Cracker will see you now."

James winced and followed the creature into a nearby office. There was another goblin waiting for him behind a desk. Thankfully, this one had a nameplate and was indeed "Mr. Rib-Cracker." No first name given. James briefly wondered if goblins even had first names and was suddenly embarrassed that he'd been so disinterested in the creatures who controlled the national economy.

"Good evening, Lord Potter," Rib-Cracker said. "What can I do for you? Bearing in mind that it is after hours, and I will be charging time-and-a-half for consultation."

James swallowed. "Well, basically, I think I need a quick account overview. Have … have you heard the news about my Seneschal, Peter Pettigrew?"

Rib-Cracker nodded. "We at Gringotts try to stay abreast of any developments which might affect bank operations. I take it you are concerned that the wizard Pettigrew might have abused the trust you so naively placed in him?"

"Well, I wouldn't put it quite like that, but … yes."

The goblin gave him what James interpreted as a withering expression, though with goblins, it was hard to tell. Generally, they all seemed to regard wizards with barely disguised contempt. Sometimes, they didn't even bother with a disguise.

Rib-Cracker reached into a drawer and produced a thick file folder. Opening it up, he flipped through and pulled out a single document.

"Before we delve too deeply into House Potter's current financial situation, it is necessary to clarify some things for our internal records. For a start, do you concede that this is your signature at the bottom of this form?"

James glanced at the document. "Yes, that's my … signature." His voice trailed off as he noticed the title of the paper: Authority to Represent.

Rib-Cracker passed over another form. "And this one?"

James nodded affirmatively, his mouth running dry as words like "co-obligor" and "indemnify" and "balloon payment" seemed to jump off the page at him.

"And this one?"

"Mr. Rib-Splitter…?"

"Rib-Cracker, Lord Potter."

"Rib-Cracker! Yes! Sorry!" James paused to clear his throat. "How … how many documents are you going to ask me to verify?"

Rib-Cracker's left eyebrow rose in amusement. "There are well over fifty documents in the Potter file dating back to 1986 that appear to have been signed by you with no indication of duress or impairment and which gave Mr. Pettigrew authority to manage Potter funds and assets on your behalf. You will now review each document and verify that the signatures are yours and not forgeries."

"F-fifty?" James croaked.

"Well over fifty, Lord Potter," Rib-Cracker replied. "Of course, I'm sure I don't have to remind you that any claim that a document bearing your signature is the product of forgery will be reviewed by Gringotts, and if your forgery accusation is found to be baseless, there will be … severe penalties."

James opened his mouth but couldn't seem to form words. Rib-Cracker continued.

"Only after you have confirmed that all of the relevant documents were indeed signed by you as the account holder and are not forged signatures will I be able to give you an accurate assessment of your current account status."

And then, the goblin definitely smiled. And James suddenly felt sick.

The DMLE Detention Center
7:00 p.m.

Peter waited alone in solitude for several hours before the door opened again. This time, it was Senior Auror Kingsley Shacklebolt and Junior Auror Michael Proudfoot.

"On your feet, Pettigrew," Shacklebolt said. "It's time to go."

Peter rose from his bunk as the Auror produced a set of manacles with familiar runes carved into them. Unsurprised, the Animagus held out his hands so Shacklebolt could bind him with the enchanted chains that would prevent him from turning into a rat after leaving this special Anti-Animagus cell.

He said nothing as the two men escorted him from the cell and down the hallway, not until he heard a soft sound from down a side corridor. The sound of someone singing in a tired broken voice.

"Tiptoe … through … the window … B-by the w-window … that … that … that … that is where I'll be … C-c-come … come … tiptoe through the t-t-tulips … with … me."

"Is that Rookwood singing?" Peter said in surprise as he stopped suddenly. Proudfoot shoved him to get him moving again.

"Never you mind, Death Eater. Just hope you don't end up like him when the Unspeakables are done with you!"

The three men continued down the hall and stopped at a reception area, where Shacklebolt formally announced to the guards that he was escorting prisoner #994-329-A to the Department of Mysteries for special interrogation. Then, he touched his wand to the clipboard that the head guard held out, and his signature magically appeared on it.

From there, the two Aurors and their prisoner made their way out of the DMLE detention center and down the main corridor. It was a Saturday evening, and most of the Ministry offices were closed, but there were still a few dozen wizards and witches working a late shift. Along the way, they passed by several other DMLE sub-departments. At one intersection near the Auror Office, they met a figure Peter had come to know well, if not exactly on a friendly basis: Rufus Scrimgeour, who for some reason was carrying a plate holding several large slices of chocolate cake.

"Ah! Kingsley!" said the former Chief Auror said brightly. "I don't know if you've heard, but we're having a little get together down in the main Conference Room on Level 3 to celebrate Pius's Order of Merlin award. I was just headed to the Auror Office to deliver some cake to Robards and the trainees who are covering dispatch. Arthur's wife made it, so naturally, it's going fast."

"I got the memo, Rufus," Shacklebolt said. "Proudfoot and I will join you there once we've delivered Pettigrew to the Unspeakables."

"Excellent!" Rufus turned to Peter with a smug expression. "I'm sure they'll take good care of you down there, Pettigrew. And I do hope the DMLE's accommodations have been to your liking."

"Oh, they've been lovely, Scrimgeour. Definitely 4-star." Peter glanced down at the older wizard's cane and smirked. "By the way, how's the leg?"

Rufus's smile instantly turned into a scowl even as Proudfoot roughly shoved the prisoner past him and on down the hall. Soon, they had reached the express elevator dedicated to Auror use. Shacklebolt did not press the elevator button. Instead, he touched his wand to it and said aloud "Kingley Shackleblot and Michael Proudfoot, escorting prisoner Peter Pettigrew to the Department of Mysteries."

From deep in the bowels of the Ministry, the ancient elevator began its ascent. A few moments later, there was a loud ding as the doors opened. Auror Proudfoot frowned to see that the compartment was empty.

"Where's the lift operator?" he asked.

"We're going to the Department of Mysteries, Proudfoot," Shacklebolt answered as he nudged Pettigrew inside. "There's never an operator when the lift is headed down to Level 9."

"Sorry," said the young Auror bashfully. "I've never actually been to Level 9 before."

Peter snorted. "As I recall, Auror Proudfoot, you've been in service barely a year. I'll wager there's lots you haven't done yet."

"Quiet, prisoner," Proudfoot snapped.

"Easy, Proudfoot," the older Auror said as he pressed the button marked 9. "He's just trying to get in your head."

Oddly (by Muggle standards at least), the levels of the Ministry of Magic were numbered in reverse order, with Level 1 (Offices for the Minister and Administrative Staff) at the top, ironically just below the basement that constituted the lowest level of Whitehall. The DMLE and all its associated law enforcement agencies (as well as the Auror Corps, despite its independent status) were below that on Level 2. The Chamber of the Wizengamot and its related facilities were on Level 10, all the way at the bottom of the complex. The Department of Mysteries was on Level 9 but could only be accessed by outsiders with special permission.

The lift began its descent.

Level 3: Magical Accidents and Catastrophes.

"Merlin," Proudfoot said with a loud sniff, "They still haven't found out what's causing that stench, have they?"

Suddenly, there were several audible "thumps" emanating from atop the elevator. All three men looked up.

"And they haven't found out what's been rattling the pipes in this whole bloody place all weekend, either!" he added.

Level 4: Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures.

"It's an old building, Proudfoot," Shacklebolt said easily. "There's always parts of it breaking down."

"Say, Kingsley!" Peter began. The Auror glared at him.

"You will address me as Auror Shacklebolt, prisoner, or not at all!"

More and louder thumps came from atop the elevator.

Level 5: International Magical Cooperation.

"Oh, definitely, Auror Shacklebolt, sir!" Peter responded with a cheeky grin. "But I just had a quick question."

"Is there something moving around up there?" Proudfoot asked somewhat nervously with his eyes trained on the top of the lift.

"Alright, Pettigrew," said Shacklebolt, "what is your question?"

Level 6: Magical Transportation.

Pettigrew held up his shackled wrists. "Do you know why I have to wear these special manacles?"

Even louder bumps and clattering.

"We know you're an illegal Animagus, Pettigrew," Shacklebolt snapped. "Those manacles are there to keep you from using your powers."

"Yeah," Proudfoot said a bit louder, while ignoring the conversation. "There is definitely something moving around up there!"

Level 7: Magical Games and Sports.

Kingsley took his eyes off Pettigrew and looked up to the ceiling in response to Proudfoot's comment, and the first hint of concern entered his eyes. But it was already too late.

Peter chuckled. "These manacles stop me from changing my form. But I'm still an Animagus!"

And then, Peter Pettigrew SQUEALED!

In response, the banging and clattering from atop the lift suddenly grew much, much louder, to the point of causing the lift car itself to shudder, until finally, the trap door in the roof of the car broke from its hinges and fell to the floor.

And rats poured into the elevator car!

Level 8: The Atrium

Some of the rats fell directly to the floor only to pick themselves up and immediately attack the Aurors' legs. Others fell (or jumped) from the opening straight onto their heads to bite and claw at their faces. Prepared for the attack, Pettigrew lunged forward and hit the elevator's emergency stop button. The car shuddered violently to a stop halfway between Levels 7 and 8, and the jolt caused Proudfoot to fall to the floor. Then, he began screaming hysterically as dozens of furious rats began pouring over him. Shacklebolt lost his balance but managed to steady himself against the elevator wall even as he pulled his wand back out to stun the Death Eater.

"STUPEFY!"

To the Auror's frustration, one of the rats still atop the car jumped down directly into the path of his spell, almost as if it had been deliberate. The flash of red light impacted the rat, which fell to the floor unconscious. Taking his opportunity, Pettigrew dashed forward, grabbed Shacklebolt's wand arm with both hands, and slammed it against the wall. Then, with a feral snarl, he bit deeply into the man's wrist!

Shacklebolt let out a scream of pain to match the screams of terror produced by Proudfoot, who was still on the floor and half-buried under a carpet of rats that were biting and scratching all over his body. By now, there were at least two-score rats in the lift car, with one half crawling over Proudfoot and the other half attacking Shacklebolt from all angles. Furiously, the Senior Auror lashed out with his free hand and slugged Pettigrew across the jaw hard enough to knock him away. Unfortunately, his bite was too strong, and a large chunk of flesh from Shacklebolt's hand went with it. He screamed again, and his wand fell from numb fingers.

Quickly, he looked around the floor searching for his wand so that he could summon it back to his hand. But before he could spot it, Pettigrew jumped on top of him with an inhuman fury, blood still dripping from the Death Eater's mouth. Shacklebolt tried to get his hands up into a defensive posture even as a black rat that had crawled up his back took a bite out of his ear, but Pettigrew was too fast. He managed to get one hand on each side of the Auror's neck, which had the effect of stretching his manacle chains tightly across the other man's throat!

Pettigrew's weight fell on top of Shacklebolt, and they both landed on the floor with the Death Eater on top. Shacklebolt let out a gargling cry as the manacle chain cut off his air supply. Desperately, he clawed at the chain with one hand whilst pawing ineffectually at Peter's face with the other. Beside them, Proudfoot's screams reached an even higher pitch as several rats that had crawled up his trouser legs approached a part of his anatomy that was particularly vulnerable to tiny, sharp teeth.

As Shacklebolt's vision started to swim from oxygen loss, he finally slapped one hand against Pettigrew's face and tried to dig a thumb into his eye. Pettigrew bellowed in pain before giving out a high-pitched "SCREEE!" In response, a half-dozen rats swarmed up Shacklebolt's semi-prone body to target his face. Despite his years of training and experience, the seasoned Auror couldn't help but suffer a moment of panic, and he reached up with both hands to pull the rats away from his vulnerable eyes. That was all Pettigrew needed.

In a flash, Peter changed his grip, grabbing the Auror's throat with one hand and the back of his neck with the other. Then, with a savage roar, he twisted. There was a sudden audible snap, and Kingsley Shacklebolt fell back to the floor, limp and lifeless.

"HAH!" Peter yelled in exultation. He'd killed quite a few people in the years since the Dark Lord fell, but never like this. Like an animal. Like something wild. He spent a few seconds cackling in delight before he was distracted by a soft squeaking sound from the floor. It was a chubby albino Agouti rat with mismatched eyes (one black and one pink) that held a wand clenched in its teeth. With a delighted grin, Peter took the wand from the rat.

"Thank you!" he said politely.

Then, he turned towards the other Auror and let out a few quick squeaks. Immediately, all the rats that were attacking Proudfoot's face and chest jumped away from him. His vision now clear, Proudfoot's eyes widened as he saw the wand pointed at his face.

"No! Please! I beg …!"

"AVADA KEDAVRA!"

The lift car was briefly illuminated by a brilliant green light, and Michael Proudfoot slumped lifeless. Pettigrew frowned. The Killing Curse was efficient to be sure, but he was now quite certain he preferred killing by hand. He hoped he'd have the chance to do it again before the day was done.

The Early Warning Office
Department of Mysteries

BONG!

The unexpected sound of a chime ringing in the Early Warning Office startled Unspeakable 029, causing him to nearly choke on his ham-and-cheese sandwich.

"Honestly!" he thought angrily. "Why is it always while I'm trying to eat!"

He took a quick swig of tea to clear his throat before grabbing his wand and his communication mirror and heading off into the maze of hanging chimes that filled the room. To Bode's relief, it was not Chime #4 or any of the other particularly dreaded warning chimes, but as he made his way to the back of the room, he grimaced upon seeing which one was ringing. While probably not apocalyptic, it certainly wasn't good news either.

"This is Unspeakable 029. The 53rd chime has just sounded, indicating that an unscheduled Unforgiveable Curse has been cast somewhere within the Ministry. Message ends."

Thirty seconds later, an announcement echoed through the entire level via a magical intercom system.

"ATTENTION, ALL DEPARTMENTAL PERSONNEL. AN UNAUTHORIZED CODE 53 HAS TAKEN PLACE. UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE, THE DEPARTMENT OF MYSTERIES IS IN LOCKDOWN!"

At the foyer in front of the express elevator, Phil Dippet (aka Number Nine) turned to the two operatives who had come with him to take custody of Peter Pettigrew.

"Oh," he muttered. "that's not good."

The elevator …

Quickly, Pettigrew searched Shacklebolt's corpse and found the keys to his manacles. For good measure, he also claimed Proudfoot's wand. Neither was as compatible as his own wand, but having killed their former owners, either would serve for the time being. He rose from the floor and dragged his sleeve across his face to wipe off some of Shacklebolt's blood. Then, he switched off the emergency stop and pressed the button for Level 2. And for good measure, he also pressed the button for Levels 3, 4, and 5.

As the lift slowly started to rise once more, Peter Pettigrew turned his attention to the mass of obedient rats that teemed at his feet. Slowly at first but with increasing speed, he waved his stolen wand over them in a lazy swirling pattern while he whispered a spell he sometimes felt he'd been waiting to use his whole life.

"Ratusempra Geminio. Ratusempra Geminio. Ratusempra Geminio. RATUSEMPRA GEMINIO!"

Pettigrew timed the final incantation for just as the lift dinged to announce its arrival on Level 5 (International Magical Cooperation). There was a flash of light, and the two Ministry employees who'd been standing by the lift were shocked when the doors opened to reveal Peter Pettigrew … and a sea of rats that stood almost up to his waist which immediately poured out into the hall and swarmed the hapless wizards in front of the doors.

Peter squealed his instructions with glee. Down the hall, he noticed a witch and a wizard each pull out their wands to target the carpet of rats rushing towards them. Without hesitation, the Death Eater struck them both with an Expelliarmus Duo that left them helpless on the floor before the approaching swarm. As the lift doors slowly closed, Pettigrew could just make out the sounds of screams and spellfire from elsewhere on that level. He smiled and then started casting his Rat-Doubling Curse again on the thirty or so rats who remained at his feet instead of surging out into the hall with their brethren.

"Ratusempra Geminio. Ratusempra Geminio. Ratusempra Geminio."

When Peter began casting that spell the first time, there were only about forty rats in the lift car with him. When the doors opened onto Level 5, more than 100 spilled forth into the hallway. Within ten minutes, there were more than a thousand rats on Level 5, and their numbers only grew.

When properly applied, the Gemino Curse was very effective.

Moments later, after dropping off similar deliveries on Levels 4 and 3, the lift doors finally opened on Level 2. "RATUSEMPRA GEMINIO!" There was another flash of light, though there was no one in the hallway to see it or to witness the plague of rats that poured out of the lift in response. When the rats were all gone, the lift was empty save for the bloodied corpses of Kingsley Shacklebolt and Michael Proudfoot.

Hiding among the magically duplicated rats was one brown Norwegian rat … that wasn't a rat at all.

A few minutes earlier on Level 3 …

The congratulatory fete for Order of Merlin recipient Pius Thicknesse was winding down, and while most of the well-wishers had already left, about twelve or so remained in the Conference Room on Level 3. Among the remaining guests were Thicknesse himself; Junior Aurors John Dawlish and Victoria Savage; Undersecretary Dolores Umbridge; and Thomas and Violetta Edgecombe. Thomas was the Director of the Portkey Office (and a friend of Pius's dating back to their Hogwarts days), while Violetta worked in the Floo Network Authority. The rest were mostly hit wizards and their significant others, as Pius himself was a former hit wizard who'd worked his way up into the Auror Corps after going back to retake several NEWTs. Consequently, he had already become something of an idol among DMLE officers even before obtaining an OoM.

The Edgecombes were just offering Thicknesse their congratulations when the screams started out in the hall.

"What the hell?" Dawlish said as he opened the door to step outside, with a few others right behind him. Once outside, his eyes widened in shock at the sight of a moving carpet of rats racing straight towards them. The screams had come from several wizards and witches who'd gotten caught in the flood of vermin and knocked to the ground where they were quickly mauled. Beside Dawlish, Dolores Umbridge stifled a scream of horror.

"WINGARDIUM LEVIOSA!" Thicknesse called out, and the bleeding body of Auror Williamson (the only fallen victim still alive) rose up above the mass of rats, though several of the foul creatures still clung to his body and continued to bite and claw.

Beside Thicknesse, Dawlish thrust his wand out in a wide arc. "DEPULSO!" A wave of force shot out to hit the front of the approaching wave of rats, and dozens of them were blasted into the air. But to the Aurors' shock, every one of the rats struck by Dawlish's spell gave off a sudden flash of light and then split into two more rats!

"Merlin's bones!" one of the hit wizards exclaimed from the doorway. "They can replicate!"

"Impossible!" Auror Savage exclaimed. "The Gemino Curse doesn't work on living things!"

"Obviously, someone developed a variation," Umbridge said before she took a deep breath and pointed her own wand at the advancing swarm. "EXPECTO PATRONUM!" A blast of silvery fog shot out of her wand towards the rats.

Thicknesse shook his head. "That won't work, Madam Umbridge! A Patronus Charm won't affect …!"

He trailed off in surprise as the silvery fog condensed down into the shape of a glowing silver cat which hissed angrily at the rats. To the Auror's surprise, the Patronus's manifestation frightened the vermin enough to temporarily halt their approach.

"… Okay! I stand corrected!" he said.

"Seriously," Dawlish muttered. "Am I the only one without a Patronus?"

"Never mind that, Johnny!" Pius exclaimed. "The little lady's feline friend is slowing them down, but not stopping them. Give me an overlapping Protego about five feet ahead of the rats!"

Dawlish and Savage nodded, and the three Aurors cast simultaneously. Instantly, a powerful protective shield sprang up to bar the path of the vermin, though it would not hold for long. Beside the three Aurors, Dolores Umbridge focused her concentration on her cat Patronus and tried to ignore the way her cheeks flushed when the Senior Auror called her "little lady."

The Detention Center

On this Saturday night late shift, there were only two guards overseeing the DMLE Detention Center, Sgts. Kenneth Malkin and Gordon Chumley, the latter of whom was on his way back from making his evening rounds. Malkin was manning the desk and so was the first to notice the plague of rats that poured into the lobby area. As he stood up in confusion and raised his wand to sound the alarm, Malkin didn't notice that one of the rats had stopped abruptly as the rest swarmed past. He did notice when Peter Pettigrew suddenly appeared out of nowhere with a wand that he pointed right in Malkin's shocked face.

"IMPERIO!"

As he returned from further inside the Detention Center, Chumley yelled out in consternation at the sea of rats. "Kenny! What the devil is going on …?!"

Chumley's question was cut short when he turned the corner to see Malkin staring at him with a glazed expression as the other man brought his wand to bear.

"PETRIFICUS TOTALUS!"

Gordon Chumley froze instantly, his face a mask of surprised betrayal. Then, he slowly tipped backwards and landed on the floor. Immediately, the rats swarmed his paralyzed body.

"Bon appétit," Pettigrew quipped before turning back to Malkin. "Take me to Augustus Rookwood."

As the entranced guard calmly led the way, the carpet of rats scurried to clear a path for the two wizards. When they passed by the frozen Chumley, the pitiful sounds of muted screams could be heard despite his mouth being locked shut.

"When you're done eating," Peter said, though only the rats could interpret his squeaks and chitters, "go swarm Auror HQ. Kill anyone you meet along the way."

At Pettigrew's direction, Malkin calmly opened the door to Rookwood's cell and then stepped back to await further orders. No more would come.

"AVADA KEDAVRA."

As Kenneth Malkin's body dropped to the floor, Peter idly summoned the dead man's wand to add to his collection. He took a step closer to the cell but did not go in. He just stared in shock.

Inside the dingy cell, Augustus Rookwood, who had once been an Unspeakable and a Hogwarts professor, stood near the far wall and swayed slowly back and forth. His hair was long and stringy, and his face was mostly hidden behind a filthy beard that grew halfway to his waist. The Death Eater was still wearing his filthy Azkaban prisoner's uniform with a straitjacket binding his arms tightly. His head was bowed, and his eyes were closed. And in a broken raspy voice, he was singing.

"Tiptoe … through … the window … B-by … by … by the w-window …"

"Oh, Gus," Peter whispered sadly. "What have they done to you?"

Auror HQ
(On the opposite end of Level 2)

"I repeat," said the floating silver turtle Patronus, "we are trapped in the Level 3 Main Conference Room by what look to be thousands of extremely aggressive rats. Also, they appear to be under some customized version of the Gemino Curse. Whenever one of them is killed or even hit by a spell, they multiply. Request backup."

Gawain Robards stared at Thicknesse's Patronus in amazement. Next to him, the two Auror trainees (Annabelle Penrose and Tristan Brown) were equally shocked, while Rufus Scrimgeour scowled angrily.

"Rats," he said grimly. "And it just so happens that you have a rat Animagus in custody. I cannot help but believe the two are connected, Gawain.

"I agree," said Robards. "EXPECTO PATRONUM."

With a flash of silver light, Robards' peregrine falcon Patronus appeared in the air before him.

"Go to Kingsley Shacklebolt. Tell him to report to me at once on the status of his prisoner." But the Patronus didn't leave. It simply hung in the air and shook its head. Robards looked stricken.

"Oh no," he said sadly.

"Robards!" yelled Penrose as she pointed to the glass doors at the main entrance to Auror HQ. A wave of rats was heading down the hall towards them. Undaunted, Robards charged out the doors, with the other three following behind.

"Ventus Maximus on three!" he ordered.

The three Aurors and Scrimgeour cast their spells simultaneously and a powerful gust of wind suddenly blasted the approaching swarm back about ten feet. Unfortunately, it also caused their numbers to swell.

"This is not a long-term solution, Gawain," Rufus said angrily.

Robards's eyes narrowed in concentration. "You three keep it up but terminate your spells on my signal!"

With that, the Senior Auror knelt down, touched his wand to the floor and began to concentrate. After about ten seconds (during which time the army of rats grew to frightening proportions), Robards finally yelled "NOW!" Rufus and the two trainees ended their Wind Charms, and the rats surged forward.

Robards did nothing.

"Anytime now, Gawain," Rufus said somewhat nervously.

Robards still did nothing, although a bead of sweat appeared on his forehead due to his intense concentration.

"Gawain?!"

Then, when the rats were less than ten feet away, the floor beneath the rats began to sparkle. While the underfloor, like most of the infrastructure of the Ministry building, was made of Transfiguration resistant materials, the decorative tiles that covered that floor were not so protected. Nor was the glue that held those tiles down. Just before the rats could reach the four people, Robard's Transfiguration effect took hold, and the floor tiles transformed into the same material used to hold them in place.

In other words, the entire rat swarm was now trapped and choking in a pool of sticky industrial glue several inches thick.

Robards sighed in relief. "As I thought. Magical attacks or brute force trigger the duplication effect, but once transfigured, the glue is just ordinary glue. They're stuck and can neither move nor duplicate!"

"Clever, Gawain," Scrimgeour said. "Quite clever."

"What's our next move, sir?" asked Penrose.

"The DMLE Detention Center," Rufus said authoritatively before Gawain could answer.

"What?" Robards responded. "Why? There are already guards posted at the DMLE. If this is Pettigrew's doing, we need to start searching for him before he escapes the building, not to mention provide backup to Thicknesse's group."

Rufus shook his head. "Assuming arguendo that this is Pettigrew's doing – and I am certain it is – then he's not trying to escape. If he's gotten the best of Kingsley somehow, he could have turned into a rat and discreetly escaped the building using any public toilet. Instead, he summoned whole armies of rats to attack Auror HQ and a social event attended by every Auror in the building besides ourselves. He wants us distracted and preoccupied because he has some objective here in the Ministry building to achieve before he can leave. And according to the memories of his monologue to Lily Potter, Pettigrew initially took her and her two sons hostage with the goal of freeing Augustus Rookwood."

"Rookwood is practically brain dead," Robards snapped.

"Perhaps, though I have less confidence in the pronouncements of the Unspeakables than you. But I am certain that is where Pettigrew is headed."

The Senior Auror sighed loudly. He'd worked with Scrimgeour for decades, and when the old man talked like this, he was almost always right.

"Okay, we'll check that out first. But you are staying here, Rufus! You're in no shape for combat, and you won't be able to keep up with us anyway."

While Rufus fumed at that instruction, Robards turned to Brown and Penrose and ordered them to fetch three brooms from the nearby equipment storeroom. Then, he summoned a Patronus once more to deliver another message.

The Conference Room on Level 3
A moment later

Pius Thicknesse's brow furrowed thoughtfully as the peregrine Patronus faded away.

"Immobilize them? Without using magic directly on them? Anyone have any ideas on how to do that?"

Dawlish, Savage, and the recovering Williamson were stumped (and the three hit wizards who had joined them out in the hall were too focused on maintaining their Protego shields to even listen). To Pius's surprise, it was Umbridge who spoke up.

"The fire sprinkler runes in the ceiling!" she exclaimed brightly. "Magic summons the water they produce, but the water itself is nonmagical!"

Dawlish snorted. "Maybe so, but how is it going to help us to get the rats wet?!"

"Water freezes, Auror Dawlish," she replied tartly.

Thicknesse's head turned sharply in response to that, and his face broke out into a fierce smile.

"I like the way you think, Madam Umbridge!"

"Please," she said somewhat bashfully. "Call me Dolores."

His smile grew broader. "Pius," he said simply.

Dawlish rolled his eyes. "And I'm John! Now can we do this before we get overrun? Or do you two want to flirt some more?"

Thicknesse gave his comrade a sour look, but he did not answer. Instead, he simply pointed his wand up to the ceiling a few feet away from everyone and let fly with an Incendio. After a moment or two, a loud alarm sounded, and then water began to pour from the ceiling, drenching the Aurors, the guests, and the rats alike.

"Right!" Pius bellowed towards the hit wizards. "On three, you boys drop those shields. At the same time, Johnny and Vicki, hit 'em with a Glacius Maximus."

"I know that spell as well … Pius!" yelled Dolores over the sound of pouring water. He turned and smiled at her again.

"Then, by all means, feel free to join us! But stay behind the Aurors. Ready? One, two, three!"

The shields fell, and the rats surged forward only to be met by a blast of frigid arctic air emanating from four wands. The icy blast traveled the length of the corridor, and when it had passed, all the rats were completely encased in ice.

Pius exhaled. "Okay, that's one crisis down!" Then, he called Violetta Edgecombe to the door of the conference room.

"Madam Edgecombe, where is the nearest Floo?"

The Floo Authority regulator thought for a moment even as she shivered from the cold water. "The-the only one on th-this level is on the far side of the b-building! If the emergency stairs down the hall are c-clear, the closest one is actually up-upstairs in Auror HQ!"

Thicknesse nodded before turning to two of the hit wizards nearby, wiping water out of his eyes as he spoke. Meanwhile, Umbridge sent her friend a Warming Charm to counter the effects of being drenched.

"Jensen and Eagleton, escort the civilians to Auror HQ and see that they evacuate the building via Floo! The rest of us will make our way through this floor to clear it of rats and locate anyone else trapped in here! We'll send anyone we find your way!"

Dolores stepped forward and opened her mouth, but Pius interrupted before she could speak.

"That includes you, ma'am!" he said while running his fingers through his wet hair to clear it from his eyes. "You're the Minister's Undersecretary! Your job is too important to risk your safety on the front lines."

With that, Thicknesse led the group carefully through the minefield of frozen rats towards the stairwell down the hall.

The Detention Center

"Tiptoe … through … the window … B-by the w-window …"

By now, Rookwood was just starting his fifth iteration of the annoying song since Pettigrew's arrival, despite all the Animagus's efforts to break through to him.

"Mr. Nemo," Peter said in a deep authoritative voice. "It's Mr. Norvegicus. Our Lord calls for you. Are you with us?!"

"By the w-window … window … window … that is where I'll be …"

Peter's face grew anguished at the sight of his mentor's current condition and banged his arm angrily against the cell door's bars.

"DAMMIT, GUS!" he finally yelled. "IT'S ME! PETER! SNAP OUT OF IT, MAN! I NEED YOU!"

Suddenly, and seemingly in response to Peter's outburst, Rookwood suddenly stopped swaying and singing. Then, without lifting his head or opening his eyes, he sighed deeply and then spoke.

"Peter," he said in a raspy and yet oddly annoyed tone of voice. "Would you please just shut up for a moment? I'm trying to reconfigure my compromised psychic architecture. I'll be with you in a moment."

Pettigrew opened his mouth to respond but then abruptly shut it again as Rookwood's words suddenly hit him. The other Death Eater resumed his slow sway and wretched tuneless singing.

"Come … tip … tip … tiptoe through … the t-t-tulips … with … me."

Then Rookwood went silent for a long moment before slowly raising his head and opening his eyes. He coughed and cleared his throat but then began to speak with easy confidence.

"Much better," he said to himself before he got a good look at his rescuer. Then, his head jerked, and his brow furrowed in surprise.

"You've lost weight!" he exclaimed.

"… Yeah. I've been rather active these last thirteen years."

Rookwood nodded. "Thirteen … years? Has it really been that long?"

Peter grimaced. "I'm afraid so. Was it … was it awful? Being in Azkaban all this time? You made me promise not to even try to get you out …!"

Peter trailed off even as Rookwood's eyes danced in a strange amusement. "Was Azkaban … awful, you ask?"

He gaped at younger wizard for a few seconds and then threw back his head and laughed.

"Azkaban was … perfect! Everything I'd hoped for when I was sent there!" The man sounded excited, almost exultant. "Thirteen years of solitude within the fabled Tower of Ekrizdis where I could complete my masterpiece – a psychic oubliette of forty-nine interlocking mind-streams! And even better, thirteen years of constant Dementor exposure to test it against!"

He laughed again. "My mind is impregnable now, Peter. An unassailable tower of will!"

"… Okay. That's … nice, I guess," replied Peter, who didn't actually understand what his old friend was talking about. With a slash of his wand, the prisoner's straitjacket fell to the floor in pieces. Rookwood stepped forward and began to stretch his arms to get the kinks out.

"I managed to pick up some wands on the way here…" Peter began while pulling the pilfered wands out of a pocket.

"None of those are compatible," Rookwood said without even looking. "Though I can probably overpower the cherry one enough to make it work."

He put out his hand, and one of the wands flew from Peter's hand into the older man's. Immediately, a weak burst of red sparks shot from its tip.

"Okay, that's another problem solved," Peter said while stuffing the other wands back into his pocket. "Now we need to OH CRUMBS!"

Instantly, Peter transformed into his rat form just in time, as several Stunners flew through the space where his human form had just stood. The rat darted into the cell while squealing in panic.

Outside, Aurors Robards, Brown, and Penrose floated in the corridor, still on the brooms they'd used to fly over the glue-encased rat infestation. As Gawain saw Pettigrew transform and then run into the cell, he cursed himself for not being faster or at least stealthier. And worse, before the rat entered Rookwood's cell, he clearly had been talking to the prisoner inside. Robards whispered instructions to his companions before flying his broom down the corridor to the other side of the cell. As he'd hoped, no spellfire came as he passed.

The Senior Auror abandoned his broom and crept back towards Rookwood's cell as Brown and Penrose did the same from the other direction. When they were all just a few feet from the door, he held up a hand and silently counted down from three. On the count of zero, all three Aurors stepped into the doorway to fire off simultaneous Stunners. But even as Robards cast, he felt a momentary dread when he saw Augustus Rookwood – free, armed, and clearly in possession of his faculties – standing in the corner of the cell with his wand pointed at them.

The three wizards called out "STUPEFY!" in unison. And all three Stunners struck their target … a doppelganger of Rookwood that instantly winked out of existence. At the same time in the opposite corner, Rookwood's Disillusionment Charm faded to reveal the Death Eater pointing his wand straight at the Aurors.

"IMPERIO HORRIBILIS!"

All three Aurors were shocked at those words, for none of them had known that the Horribilis modifier could even be added to the Imperius Curse. Nevertheless, like most Aurors and all Senior Aurors, Gawain Robards had received extensive training in resisting the Imperius Curse. And so, as soon as Rookwood said the word, Robards steeled himself against the familiar sensation of floating away as if nothing mattered save the intoxicating sensation of blissful ignorance.

This was nothing like Auror training.

The sensation that struck Robards like a wrecking ball was not a feeling of total bliss but one of irrelevance, of the absolute certainty that he was nothing compared to the man before him, of the realization that he was so completely insignificant that surrender was the only possible option.

But despite the onslaught, Robards was still an Auror, and he hadn't survived the job this long by being weak-willed. Calling on his limited Occlumency training and, more importantly, a desperate urge to survive, he slowly turned his wand towards Rookwood. Now, if only he could think of the right spell to cast. Something that would end this threat no matter what the cost. But against Rookwood's power, remembering and even thinking was just so hard.

"AVADA KEDAVRA."

"Oh yeah," Robards thought in the last millisecond of his life. "That would have done the job."

Then, Gawain Robards' body dropped to the floor, lifeless, to land at the feet of the two Imperiused trainee Aurors who had just murdered him at the command of their new master. When his arm hit the ground, Robards' wand fell from his limp fingers. It bounced once and then rolled across the floor to stop near Rookwood's feet. The Death Eater looked down at the wand and smiled before summoning it to his hand.

"Blackthorn," he said as angry red sparks shot forth. "With a dragon heart-string. Much better."

With that, Rookwood calmly exited his cell, casually stepping over Auror Robards' corpse as he did. A suitably impressed Pettigrew resumed his human form and followed him. Once in the corridor, Rookwood addressed the two Auror trainees even as he touched his wand to each of their foreheads in turn.

"I am placing within your minds the location of a room on Level 6. Inside it, you will find a central column covered in runes. You will go there now as quickly as possible. Then, you will force your way inside and destroy that column with point-blank Bombarda Maximas. If you survive the explosion – and the resulting magical backlash – you will make your way through the Ministry building, killing anyone you encounter, with particular focus on Aurors, hit wizards, and high-ranking Ministry personnel."

Brown and Penrose saluted Rookwood smartly as if he were a superior officer, and then they turned and sprinted back to their abandoned brooms before flying away on their urgent mission. Rookwood noticed Pettigrew looking at him with a curious expression.

"The runes on the column maintain the Ministry's internal anti-Apparition and anti-Portkey wards," he explained. "I don't know what your plan is for escaping – or if, indeed, you Gryffindors even bother with actual plans – but I assume our escape will be easier if we can Apparate within the building or, if necessary, outside it."

Peter snorted. "Show-off. By the way, do you know where the DMLE evidence lockup is? I need to get my own wand back. Then, we'll need to make a quick stop at Auror HQ."

"Any other errands we need to run? Perhaps stop for tea and sandwiches?"

The rat Animagus made a face and then headed down the corridor. "I think the most amazing thing about this whole day," he said over his shoulder, "is learning that thirteen years in Azkaban did nothing to rein in your sarcasm."

Ten minutes later, a much more upbeat Peter Pettigrew exited the DMLE Evidence lockup with his leather satchel over his shoulder, his own wand now back in hand, and three dead DMLE late shift employees in his wake. He was soon distracted from his reverie by a soft squeaking from down below at his feet. It was the albino rat with the mismatched eyes who'd handed Peter a wand back in the elevator. Peter gently picked the rodent up, and the two had a very brief and squeaky conversation. He then turned to Rookwood who was staring at him wide-eyed.

"When I escaped, I used a variant of the Gemino Curse to unleash several rat swarms throughout the building," Peter explained. "Unfortunately, the Aurors exterminated all the other rats on this level except for Socrates here. He says there are now about eight or so people in the Auror Office, though he doesn't think any of them are actual Aurors."

"… Socrates?"

"Yes," Peter said defensively. "I've raised him from a pup. He's very smart."

Rookwood continued to stare in amazement until his face broke out into an excited smile.

"You actually did it!" he said in a voice full of wonder and pride. "You solved the problem of morphic resonance! You can interact with rats just as a Parselmouth does with snakes!"

Peter shrugged even as he gently placed Socrates inside his coat pocket. "My control isn't nearly as good as actual Parseltongue. And I can only affect living rats, not magical depictions of them. Anyway, my grandfather did most of the work. I'm sure my father would have figured it out decades ago if only …"

He trailed off wistfully. Rookwood reached over and squeezed his shoulder reassuringly. "Both Gustav and Martin would have been very proud of you. I hope you realize that."

Peter ducked his head almost bashfully. "Thanks. But we still need to get into Auror HQ. Any brilliant ideas?"

Rookwood started to respond but then froze. His eyes seemed to glaze over for a few seconds, and then, he blinked repeatedly to clear his head.

"Gus?" Peter asked with concern.

"Sorry, sorry," Rookwood answered. "It's just … the two Aurors I enslaved have broken free from my control."

"They have?" the other Death Eater responded uneasily. Then, the floor beneath them shuddered slightly, and Rookwood's face broke out into a wide grin.

"Posthumously!" he added. "I believe you'll find that building-wide Apparition is now possible, O King of Rats! How's that for a brilliant idea?

Next: Things get worse for James, and a lot of other people as well.

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