Disclaimer: Everything you recognize is J.K. Rowling's except Jamie, Luka, and Ariana.
Chapter 17- The Servant of Lord Voldemort
Hermione screams. Black leaps to his feet. I jump as though I've received a huge electric shock. Okay people have got to stop doing that tonight! My nerves are shot as is!
"I found this at the base of the Whomping Willow," says Snape, throwing the Cloak aside, careful to keep his wand pointing directly at Lupin's chest. "Very useful, Potter, I thank you. . . ."
Snape is slightly breathless, but his face is full of suppressed triumph. "You're wondering, perhaps, how I knew you were here?" he says, his eyes glittering. "I've just been to your office, Lupin. You forgot to take your potion tonight, so I took a gobletful along. And very lucky I did . . . lucky for me, I mean. Lying on your desk was a certain map. One glance at it told me all I needed to know. I saw you running along this passageway and out of sight."
I look at Lupin and moan quietly. I thought that professors were supposed to be smart? "Severus —" Lupin begins, but Snape overides him.
"I've told the headmaster again and again that you're helping your old friend Black into the castle, Lupin, and here's the proof. Not even I dreamed you would have the nerve to use this old place as your hideout —"
"Severus, you're making a mistake," says Lupin urgently. "You haven't heard everything — I can explain — Sirius is not here to kill Harry —"
"Two more for Azkaban tonight," says Snape, his eyes now gleaming fanatically. "I shall be interested to see how Dumbledore takes this. . . . He was quite convinced you were harmless, you know, Lupin . . . a tame werewolf —" I tighten my hands into fists hearing how gleeful the dungeon bat is about all this. He's still this petty after all this time.
"You fool," says Lupin softly. "Is a schoolboy grudge worth putting an innocent man back inside Azkaban?"
BANG! Thin, snakelike cords burst from the end of Snape's wand and twist themselves around Lupin's mouth, wrists, and ankles; he overbalances and falls to the floor, unable to move. With a roar of rage, Black starts toward Snape, but Snape points his wand straight between Black's eyes.
"Give me a reason," he whispers. "Give me a reason to do it, and I swear I will."
Black stops dead. It is impossible to say which face shows more hatred.
Harry stands there, paralyzed, and I'm not sure what to do. I glance around at Ron and Hermione. Ron looks just as confused as I am, still fighting to keep hold on the struggling Scabbers. Hermione, however, takes an uncertain step towards Snape and says, in a very breathless voice, "Professor Snape — it — it wouldn't hurt to hear what they've got to say, w-would it?"
"Miss Granger, you are already facing suspension from this school," Snape spits. "You, Potter, Weasley, and Pendragon are out-of-bounds, in the company of a convicted murderer and a werewolf. For once in your life, hold your tongue."
I grit my teeth at the vile man. "But if — if there was a mistake —" Hermione starts.
"KEEP QUIET, YOU STUPID GIRL!" Snape shouts, looking suddenly quite deranged. "DON'T TALK ABOUT WHAT YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND!" A few sparks shoot out of the end of his wand, which is still pointed at Black's face. Hermione falls silent.
"Don't talk to my friend that way! If anyone here is stupid its you!" I shout back at him furious at the lack of respect that he shows his students. Snape's eyes flash, and he levels his wand at me.
"I've had enough of your insolence Pendragon. Dumbledore won't be able to protect you this time. It looks like the noble house is crumbling." He sneers. I bite my lower lip, and Hermione grabs my hand. He turns his attention back to Black.
"Vengeance is very sweet," Snape breathes at Black. "How I hoped I would be the one to catch you. . . ."
"The joke's on you again, Severus," Black snarls. "As long as this boy brings his rat up to the castle" — he jerks his head at Ron — "I'll come quietly. . . ."
"Up to the castle?" says Snape silkily. "I don't think we need to go that far. All I have to do is call the dementors once we get out of the Willow. They'll be very pleased to see you, Black . . . pleased enough to give you a little Kiss, I daresay. . . ."
What little color there is in Black's face leaves it.
"You — you've got to hear me out," he croaks. "The rat — look at the rat —"
But there is a mad glint in Snape's eyes that I have never seen before. He seems beyond reason.
"Come on, all of you," he says. He clicks his fingers, and the ends of the cords that bound Lupin fly to his hands. "I'll drag the werewolf. Perhaps the dementors will have a Kiss for him too —"
Before I knew what's going on, Harry has crossed the room in three strides and blocked the door.
"Get out of the way, Potter, you're in enough trouble already," snarls Snape. "If I hadn't been here to save your skin —"
"Professor Lupin could have killed me about a hundred times this year," Harry says. "I've been alone with him loads of times, having defense lessons against the dementors. If he was helping Black, why didn't he just finish me off then?"
"Don't ask me to fathom the way a werewolf's mind works," hisses Snape. "Get out of the way, Potter."
"YOU'RE PATHETIC!" Harry yells. "JUST BECAUSE THEY MADE A FOOL OF YOU AT SCHOOL YOU WON'T EVEN LISTEN —"
"YOU REALLY ARE THAT PETTY!" I cry as well.
"SILENCE! I WILL NOT BE SPOKEN TO LIKE THAT!" Snape shrieks, looking madder than ever. "Like father, like son, Potter! I have just saved your neck; you should be thanking me on bended knee! You would have been well served if he'd killed you! You'd have died like your father, too arrogant to believe you might be mistaken in Black — now get out of the way, or I will make you. GET OUT OF THE WAY, POTTER!"
Harry makes up his mind in a split second. Before Snape can take even one step toward him, he raises his wand.
"Expelliarmus!" he yells — except that his isn't the only voice that shouts. There is a blast that makes the door rattle on its hinges; Snape is lifted off his feet and slammed into the wall, then slides down it to the floor, a trickle of blood oozing from under his hair. He has been knocked out.
I look around. Ron, Hermione, and I all tried to Disarm Snape at exactly the same moment. Snape's wand soars in a high arc and lands on the bed next to Crookshanks.
"You shouldn't have done that," says Black, looking at Harry. "You should have left him to me. . . ."
Harry avoids Black's eyes. I'm not exactly sure if we've done the right thing, but at the moment it is the best option. "We attacked a teacher. . . . We attacked a teacher . . . ," Hermione whimpers, staring at the lifeless Snape with frightened eyes. "Oh, we're going to be in so much trouble —"
Lupin is struggling against his bonds. Black bends down quickly and unties him. Lupin straightens up, rubbing his arms where the ropes cut into them.
"Thank you, Harry," he says.
"I'm still not saying I believe you," Harry retorts.
"Then it's time we offered you some proof," says Black. "You, boy — give me Peter. Now."
Ron clutches Scabbers closer to his chest. I still don't know why Ron is so protective of him even now, in a life or death situation.
"Come off it," he says weakly. "Are you trying to say he broke out of Azkaban just to get his hands on Scabbers? I mean . . ." He looked up at Harry, Hermione, and me for support. "Okay, say Pettigrew could turn into a rat — there are millions of rats — how's he supposed to know which one he's after if he was locked up in Azkaban?"
"You know, Sirius, that's a fair question," says Lupin, turning to Black and frowning slightly. "How did you find out where he was?"
Black puts one of his clawlike hands inside his robes and takes out a crumpled piece of paper, which he smooths flat and holds out to show everyone.
It is the photograph of Ron and his family that had appeared in the Daily Prophet the previous summer, and there, on Ron's shoulder, is Scabbers.
"How did you get this?" Lupin asks Black, thunderstruck.
"Fudge," says Black. "When he came to inspect Azkaban last year, he gave me his paper. And there was Peter, on the front page . . . on this boy's shoulder. . . . I knew him at once . . . how many times had I seen him transform? And the caption said the boy would be going back to Hogwarts . . . to where Harry was. . . ."
"My God," says Lupin softly, staring from Scabbers to the picture in the paper and back again. "His front paw . . ." Okay maybe I'm missing something here…
"What about it?" says Ron defiantly.
"He's got a toe missing," says Black.
"Of course," Lupin breathes. "So simple . . . so brilliant . . . he cut it off himself?"
"Just before he transformed," says Black. "When I cornered him, he yelled for the whole street to hear that I'd betrayed Lily and James. Then, before I could curse him, he blew apart the street with the wand behind his back, killed everyone within twenty feet of himself — and sped down into the sewer with the other rats. . . ."
"Didn't you ever hear, Ron?" says Lupin. "The biggest bit of Peter they found was his finger." I shudder remembering Kingsley telling me this story when I was younger.
"I remember… he's telling the truth about that." I tell my friends.
"Look, Scabbers probably had a fight with another rat or something! He's been in my family for ages, right —"
"Twelve years, in fact," says Lupin. "Didn't you ever wonder why he was living so long?"
"We — we've been taking good care of him!" says Ron.
"Not looking too good at the moment, though, is he?" replies Lupin. "I'd guess he's been losing weight ever since he heard Sirius was on the loose again. . . ."
"He's been scared of that mad cat!" cries Ron, nodding towards Crookshanks, who is still purring on the bed. You know, that does make more sense on why he's been alive for this long.
"This cat isn't mad," says Black hoarsely. He reaches out a bony hand and strokes Crookshanks's fluffy head. "He's the most intelligent of his kind I've ever met. He recognized Peter for what he was right away. And when he met me, he knew I was no dog. It was a while before he trusted me. . . . Finally, I managed to communicate to him what I was after, and he's been helping me. . . ."
"What do you mean?" breathes Hermione.
"He tried to bring Peter to me, but couldn't . . . so he stole the passwords into Gryffindor Tower for me. . . . As I understand it, he took them from a boy's bedside table. . . ."
This all is so crazy but yet at the same time it actually makes sense, that is if they can prove it. "Give them Scabbers Ron." I tell him. Ron turns to me with wide eyes.
"Not you too Jamie! They're mad!" Ron cries.
"There's a simple way to prove this, if Scabbers stays a rat then they're wrong, but if not, well then we've all been in a lot of danger for a really long time, and did not know it." I tell my friends, a chill going back down my spine. My head throbs angrily reminding me of its presence.
"But Peter got wind of what was going on and ran for it. . . ." croaks Black continuing attempting to break our sudden tenstion. "This cat — Crookshanks, did you call him? — told me Peter had left blood on the sheets. . . . I supposed he bit himself. . . . Well, faking his own death had worked once. . . ."
These words jolt Harry to his senses. "And why did he fake his death?" he says furiously. "Because he knew you were about to kill him like you killed my parents!"
"No," says Lupin, "Harry —"
"And now you've come to finish him off!"
"Yes, I have," says Black, with an evil look at Scabbers.
"Then I should've let Snape take you!" Harry shouts. This is seriously not getting anywhere.
"Harry," says Lupin hurriedly, "don't you see? All this time we've thought Sirius betrayed your parents, and Peter tracked him down — but it was the other way around, don't you see? Peter betrayed your mother and father — Sirius tracked Peter down —"
"THAT'S NOT TRUE!" Harry yells. "HE WAS THEIR SECRET-KEEPER! HE SAID SO BEFORE YOU TURNED UP. HE SAID HE KILLED THEM!"
He is pointing at Black, who shakes his head slowly; the sunken eyes are suddenly overbright.
"Harry . . . I as good as killed them," he croaks. "I persuaded Lily and James to change to Peter at the last moment, persuaded them to use him as Secret-Keeper instead of me. . . . I'm to blame, I know it. . . . The night they died, I'd arranged to check on Peter, make sure he was still safe, but when I arrived at his hiding place, he'd gone. Yet there was no sign of a struggle. It didn't feel right. I was scared. I set out for your parents' house straightaway. And when I saw their house, destroyed, and their bodies . . . I realized what Peter must've done . . . what I'd done. . . ." His voice breaks. He turns away.
"Enough of this," says Lupin, and there is a steely note in his voice I have never heard before. "There's one certain way to prove what really happened. Ron, give me that rat."
"What are you going to do with him if I give him to you?" Ron asks Lupin tensely.
"Force him to show himself," says Lupin. "If he really is a rat, it won't hurt him."
Ron hesitates. Then at long last, he holds out Scabbers and Lupin takes him. Scabbers begins to squeak without stopping, twisting and turning, his tiny black eyes bulging in his head.
"Ready, Sirius?" says Lupin.
Black has already retrieved Snape's wand from the bed. He approaches Lupin and the struggling rat, and his wet eyes suddenly seem to be burning in his face.
"Together?" he says quietly.
"I think so," says Lupin, holding Scabbers tightly in one hand and his wand in the other. "On the count of three. One — two — THREE!"
A flash of blue-white light erupts from both wands; for a moment, Scabbers is frozen in midair, his small gray form twisting madly — Ron yells — the rat falls and hits the floor. There is another blinding flash of light and then —
It is like watching a speeded-up film of a growing tree. A head is shooting upward from the ground; limbs are sprouting; a moment later, a man is standing where Scabbers was, cringing and wringing his hands. Crookshanks is spitting and snarling on the bed; the hair on his back is standing up. Oh my Merlin what sort of twisted world have we stepped into tonight.
That filthy little fleabag was a man all this time? I shiver in revulsion.
He is a very short man, hardly taller than Harry and Hermione. His thin, colorless hair is unkempt and there is a large bald patch on top. He has the shrunken appearance of a plump man who has lost a lot of weight in a short time. His skin looks grubby, almost like Scabbers's fur, and something of the rat lingers around his pointed nose and his very small, watery eyes. He looks around at us all, his breathing fast and shallow. I see his eyes dart to the door and back again.
"Well, hello, Peter," says Lupin pleasantly, as though rats frequently erupt into old school friends around him. "Long time, no see."
"S-Sirius . . . R-Remus . . ." Even Pettigrew's voice is squeaky. Again, his eyes dart toward the door. "My friends . . . my old friends . . ."
Black's wand arm rises, but Lupin seizes him around the wrist, gives him a warning look, then turns again to Pettigrew, his voice light and casual.
"We've been having a little chat, Peter, about what happened the night Lily and James died. You might have missed the finer points while you were squeaking around down there on the bed —"
"Remus," gasps Pettigrew, and I can see beads of sweat breaking out over his pasty face, "you don't believe him, do you . . .? He tried to kill me, Remus. . . ."
"So we've heard," says Lupin, more coldly. "I'd like to clear up one or two little matters with you, Peter, if you'd be so —"
"He's come to try and kill me again!" Pettigrew squeaks suddenly, pointing at Black, and I see that he uses his middle finger, because his index is missing. "He killed Lily and James and now he's going to kill me too. . . . You've got to help me, Remus. . . ."
Black's face looks more skull-like than ever as he stares at Pettigrew with his fathomless eyes.
"No one's going to try and kill you until we've sorted a few things out," says Lupin.
"Sorted things out?" squeals Pettigrew, looking wildly about him once more, eyes taking in the boarded windows and, again, the only door. "I knew he'd come after me! I knew he'd be back for me! I've been waiting for this for twelve years!"
"You knew Sirius was going to break out of Azkaban?" says Lupin, his brow furrowed. "When nobody has ever done it before?"
"He's got Dark powers the rest of us can only dream of!" Pettigrew shouts shrilly. "How else did he get out of there? I suppose He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named taught him a few tricks!"
Black starts to laugh, a horrible, mirthless laugh that fills the whole room. Okay people just can't stop being overly creepy today.
"Voldemort, teach me tricks?" he says. Pettigrew flinches as though Black has brandished a whip at him.
"What, scared to hear your old master's name?" says Black. "I don't blame you, Peter. His lot aren't very happy with you, are they?"
"Don't know what you mean, Sirius —" mutters Pettigrew, his breathing faster than ever. His whole face is shining with sweat now.
"You haven't been hiding from me for twelve years," says Black. "You've been hiding from Voldemort's old supporters. I heard things in Azkaban, Peter. . . . They all think you're dead, or you'd have to answer to them. . . . I've heard them screaming all sorts of things in their sleep. Sounds like they think the double-crosser double-crossed them. Voldemort went to the Potters' on your information . . . and Voldemort met his downfall there. And not all Voldemort's supporters ended up in Azkaban, did they? There are still plenty out here, biding their time, pretending they've seen the error of their ways. . . . If they ever got wind that you were still alive, Peter —"
"Don't know . . . what you're talking about . . . ," says Pettigrew again, more shrilly than ever. He wipes his face on his sleeve and looks up at Lupin. "You don't believe this — this madness, Remus —"
"I must admit, Peter, I have difficulty in understanding why an innocent man would want to spend twelve years as a rat," says Lupin evenly. Why would anyone want to turn into a rat in the first place is beyond me.
"Innocent, but scared!" squeals Pettigrew. "If Voldemort's supporters were after me, it was because I put one of their best men in Azkaban — the spy, Sirius Black!"
Black's face contorts.
"How dare you," he growls, sounding suddenly like the bear-sized dog he was. "I, a spy for Voldemort? When did I ever sneak around people who were stronger and more powerful than myself? But you, Peter — I'll never understand why I didn't see you were the spy from the start. You always liked big friends who'd look after you, didn't you? It used to be us . . . me and Remus . . . and James. . . ." Pettigrew wipes his face again; he is almost panting for breath.
"Me, a spy . . . must be out of your mind . . . never . . . don't know how you can say such a —"
"Lily and James only made you Secret-Keeper because I suggested it," Black hisses, so venomously that Pettigrew takes a step backward. "I thought it was the perfect plan . . . a bluff. . . . Voldemort would be sure to come after me, would never dream they'd use a weak, talentless thing like you. . . . It must have been the finest moment of your miserable life, telling Voldemort you could hand him the Potters."
Pettigrew is muttering distractedly; I catch words like "far-fetched" and "lunacy," but I can't help paying more attention to the ashen color of Pettigrew's face and the way his eyes continue to dart towards the windows and door.
"Professor Lupin?" says Hermione timidly. "Can — can I say something?"
"Certainly, Hermione," says Lupin courteously.
"Well — Scabbers — I mean, this — this man — he's been sleeping in Harry's dormitory for three years. If he's working for You-Know-Who, how come he never tried to hurt Harry before now?"
"There!" says Pettigrew shrilly, pointing at Ron with his maimed hand. "Thank you! You see, Remus? I have never hurt a hair of Harry's head! Why should I?"
"There was no point. Voldemort wasn't around to reward you, and why become a wanted man until you had to!" I exclaim. Pettigrew glances at me worriedly, and wrings his hands more.
"She's right," says Black. "Because you never did anything for anyone unless you could see what was in it for you. Voldemort's been in hiding for twelve years, they say he's half dead. You weren't about to commit murder right under Albus Dumbledore's nose, for a wreck of a wizard who'd lost all of his power, were you? You'd want to be quite sure he was the biggest bully in the playground before you went back to him, wouldn't you? Why else did you find a wizard family to take you in? Keeping an ear out for news, weren't you, Peter? Just in case your old protector regained strength, and it was safe to rejoin him. . . ."
Pettigrew opens his mouth and closes it several times. He seems to have lost the ability to talk.
"Er — Mr. Black — Sirius?" says Hermione. Black jumps at being addressed like this and stares at Hermione as though being spoken to politely is something he's long forgotten. I grip Hermione's hand tightly and squeeze it reassuringly. I'm starting to think that we're out of trouble.
"If you don't mind me asking, how — how did you get out of Azkaban, if you didn't use Dark Magic?"
"Thank you!" gasps Pettigrew, nodding frantically at her. "Exactly! Precisely what I —"
But Lupin silences him with a look. Black is frowning slightly at Hermione, but not as though he is annoyed with her. He seems to be pondering his answer.
"I don't know how I did it," he says slowly. "I think the only reason I never lost my mind is that I knew I was innocent. That wasn't a happy thought, so the dementors couldn't suck it out of me . . . but it kept me sane and knowing who I am . . . helped me keep my powers . . . so when it all became . . . too much . . . I could transform in my cell . . . become a dog. Dementors can't see, you know. . . ." He swallows.
"They feel their way toward people by sensing their emotions. . . . They could tell that my feelings were less — less human, less complex when I was a dog . . . but they thought, of course, that I was losing my mind like everyone else in there, so it didn't trouble them. But I was weak, very weak, and I had no hope of driving them away from me without a wand. . . ."
That must have been horrible, I shudder in sympathy and the constant pain going through my head.
"But then I saw Peter in that picture . . . I realized he was at Hogwarts with Harry . . . perfectly positioned to act, if one hint reached his ears that the Dark Side was gathering strength again. . . ."
Pettigrew is shaking his head, mouthing noiselessly, but staring all the while at Black as though hypnotized.
". . . ready to strike at the moment he could be sure of allies . . . and to deliver the last Potter to them. If he gave them Harry, who'd dare say he'd betrayed Lord Voldemort? He'd be welcomed back with honors. . . ."
"So you see, I had to do something. I was the only one who knew Peter was still alive. . . ."
I remember what Mr. Weasley had told Mrs. Weasley. "The guards say he's been talking in his sleep . . . always the same words . . . 'He's at Hogwarts.'"
"It was as if someone had lit a fire in my head, and the dementors couldn't destroy it. . . . It wasn't a happy feeling . . . it was an obsession . . . but it gave me strength, it cleared my mind. So, one night when they opened my door to bring food, I slipped past them as a dog. . . . It's so much harder for them to sense animal emotions that they were confused. . . . I was thin, very thin . . . thin enough to slip through the bars. . . . I swam as a dog back to the mainland. . . . I journeyed north and slipped into the Hogwarts grounds as a dog. I've been living in the forest ever since, except when I came to watch the Quidditch, of course. You fly as well as your father did, Harry. . . ."
He looks at Harry, who does not look away. "Believe me," croaks Black. "Believe me, Harry. I never betrayed James and Lily. I would have died before I betrayed them."
And at long last, Harry seems to believe him. Throat too tight to speak, he nods.
"No!" Pettigrew has fallen to his knees as though Harry's nod is his own death sentence. He shuffles forward on his knees, groveling, his hands clasped in front of him as though praying.
"Sirius — it's me . . . it's Peter . . . your friend . . . you wouldn't . . ." Black kicks out and Pettigrew recoils.
"There's enough filth on my robes without you touching them," says Black.
"Remus!" Pettigrew squeaks, turning to Lupin instead, writhing imploringly in front of him. "You don't believe this . . . Wouldn't Sirius have told you they'd changed the plan?"
"Not if he thought I was the spy, Peter," says Lupin. "I assume that's why you didn't tell me, Sirius?" he says casually over Pettigrew's head.
"Forgive me, Remus," says Black.
"Not at all, Padfoot, old friend," says Lupin, who is now rolling up his sleeves. "And will you, in turn, forgive me for believing you were the spy?"
"Of course," says Black, and a ghost of a grin flits across his gaunt face. He, too, begins rolling up his sleeves. "Shall we kill him together?" Okay, this is progressing fast and in a direction that I don't like.
"Yes, I think so," says Lupin grimly.
"You wouldn't . . . you won't . . . ," gasps Pettigrew. And he scrambles around to Ron.
"Ron . . . haven't I been a good friend . . . a good pet? You won't let them kill me, Ron, will you . . . you're on my side, aren't you?"
But Ron is staring at Pettigrew with the utmost revulsion. "I let you sleep in my bed!" he says.
"Kind boy . . . kind master . . ." Pettigrew crawls towards Ron, "you won't let them do it. . . . I was your rat. . . . I was a good pet. . . ."
"If you made a better rat than a human, it's not much to boast about, Peter," says Black harshly. Ron, going still paler with pain, wrenches his broken leg out of Pettigrew's reach. Pettigrew turns on his knees, staggered forward, and seizes the hem of Hermione's robes. Hermione's grip on me tightens so much that its painful, and I wince.
"Sweet girl . . . clever girl . . . you — you won't let them. . . . Help me. . . ."
Hermione pulls her robes out of Pettigrew's clutching hands and backs away against the wall, looking horrified. He turns on his knees and focuses his attention on me.
"You look so much like Alexis… Jamie, you've been through so much just like Harry. I know Augustus. I can tell you things about him that will help, I can give you information to protect your brother and you." Pettigrew begs. I look down into the trembling sweating face of a man that once used to be a rat. He had betrayed my friend's parents, and personally knew Augustus who killed mine.
"You should rot in Azkeban for what you've done!" I spit at him disgustedly, backing Hermione and me up a few feet.
Pettigrew kneels, trembling uncontrollably, and turns his head slowly towards Harry.
"Harry . . . Harry . . . you look just like your father . . . just like him. . . ."
"HOW DARE YOU SPEAK TO HARRY?" roars Black. "HOW DARE YOU FACE HIM? HOW DARE YOU TALK ABOUT JAMES IN FRONT OF HIM?"
"Harry," whispers Pettigrew, shuffling towards him, hands outstretched. "Harry, James wouldn't have wanted me killed. . . . James would have understood, Harry . . . he would have shown me mercy. . . ."
Both Black and Lupin stride forward, seizing Pettigrew's shoulders, and throw him backwards onto the floor. He sits there, twitching with terror, staring up at them.
"You sold Lily and James to Voldemort," says Black, who is shaking too. "Do you deny it?" Pettigrew bursts into tears. It is horrible to watch: He looks like an oversized, balding baby, cowering on the floor.
"Sirius, Sirius, what could I have done? The Dark Lord . . . you have no idea . . . he has weapons you can't imagine. . . . I was scared, Sirius, I was never brave like you and Remus and James. I never meant it to happen. . . . He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named forced me —"
"DON'T LIE!" bellows Black. "YOU'D BEEN PASSING INFORMATION TO HIM FOR A YEAR BEFORE LILY AND JAMES DIED! YOU WERE HIS SPY!"
"He — he was taking over everywhere!" gasps Pettigrew. "W-what was there to be gained by refusing him?"
"What was there to be gained by fighting the most evil wizard who has ever existed?" says Black, with a terrible fury in his face. "Only innocent lives, Peter!"
"You don't understand!" whines Pettigrew. "He would have killed me, Sirius!"
"THEN YOU SHOULD HAVE DIED!" roars Black. "DIED RATHER THAN BETRAY YOUR FRIENDS, AS WE WOULD HAVE DONE FOR YOU!"
Black and Lupin stand shoulder to shoulder, wands raised. "You should have realized," says Lupin quietly, "if Voldemort didn't kill you, we would. Good-bye, Peter."
Hermione covers her face with her hands and turns into me. I wrap my arm around her shoulders and pull her in close, needing the contact as much as her.
"NO!" Harry yells. He runs forward, placing himself in front of Pettigrew, facing the wands. "You can't kill him," he says breathlessly. "You can't." Black and Lupin both looked shocked.
"Harry, this piece of vermin is the reason you have no parents," Black snarls. "This cringing bit of filth would have seen you die too, without turning a hair. You heard him. His own stinking skin meant more to him than your whole family."
"I know," Harry pants. "We'll take him up to the castle. We'll hand him over to the dementors. . . . He can go to Azkaban . . . but don't kill him." Harry flicks his gaze to me and I nod my head, giving him a supporting grim smile as well.
"Harry!" gasps Pettigrew, and he flings his arms around Harry's knees. "You — thank you — it's more than I deserve — thank you —"
"Get off me," Harry spits, throwing Pettigrew's hands off him in disgust. "I'm not doing this for you. I'm doing it because I don't reckon my dad would've wanted his best friends to become killers — just for you."
No one moves or makes a sound except Pettigrew, whose breath is coming in wheezes as he clutches his chest. Black and Lupin are looking at each other. Then, with one movement, they lower their wands. Thank Merlin!
"You're the only person who has the right to decide, Harry," says Black. "But think . . . think what he did. . . ."
"He can go to Azkaban," Harry repeats. "If anyone deserves that place, he does. . . ." Pettigrew is still wheezing behind him.
"Very well," says Lupin. "Stand aside, Harry." Harry hesitates.
"I'm going to tie him up," says Lupin. "That's all, I swear." Harry steps out of the way. Thin cords shoot from Lupin's wand this time, and next moment, Pettigrew is wriggling on the floor, bound and gagged.
"But if you transform, Peter," growls Black, his own wand pointing at Pettigrew too, "we will kill you. You agree, Harry?"
Harry looks down at the pitiful figure on the floor and nods so that Pettigrew can see him.
"Right," says Lupin, suddenly businesslike. "Ron, I can't mend bones nearly as well as Madam Pomfrey, so I think it's best if we just strap your leg up until we can get you to the hospital wing. And Jamie, I have a feeling that you should get that head looked at. You seem to have a rather nasty penchant for getting head wounds."
"Y-yeah…" I say beginning to sag now that the danger of the situation is fading along with my adrenalin. Hermione supports more of my weight on her. Thankfully my wound has stopped bleeding now.
He hurries over to Ron, bends down, taps Ron's leg with his wand, and mutters, "Ferula." Bandages spring up Ron's leg, strapping it tightly to a splint. Lupin helps him to his feet; Ron puts his weight gingerly on the leg and doesn't wince.
"That's better," he says. "Thanks."
"What about Professor Snape?" says Hermione in a small voice, looking down at Snape's prone figure.
"There's nothing seriously wrong with him," says Lupin, bending over Snape and checking his pulse. "You were just a little — overenthusiastic. Still out cold. Er — perhaps it will be best if we don't revive him until we're safely back in the castle. We can take him like this. . . ."
He muttered, "Mobilicorpus." As though invisible strings are tied to Snape's wrists, neck, and knees, he is pulled into a standing position, head still lolling unpleasantly, like a grotesque puppet. He hangs a few inches above the ground, his limp feet dangling. Lupin picks up the Invisibility Cloak and tucks it safely into his pocket.
"And two of us should be chained to this," says Black, nudging Pettigrew with his toe. "Just to make sure."
"I'll do it," says Lupin.
"And me," says Ron savagely, limping forward. The pain in my head is increasing and I lean ever heavier against Hermione.
Black conjures heavy manacles from thin air; soon Pettigrew is upright again, left arm chained to Lupin's right, right arm to Ron's left. Ron's face is set. He seems to have taken Scabbers's true identity as a personal insult. Crookshanks leaps lightly off the bed and leads the way out of the room, his bottlebrush tail held jauntily high.
"We should hurry… Jamie's fading fast." Hermione says struggling with me. Harry comes and braces my other side, and Hermione sighs in relief. This was quite the eventful evening that I didn't want in the first place.