Hermione's shoulder throbbed painfully as she entered the DADA classroom that afternoon, her fingers flexing instinctively around her wand. It was Monday, and of course, right after the full moon weekend when her energy was already sapped, Professor Winklebottom had decided to bring back the foggy maze exercise.

She sighed as she looked at the setup. The thick, impenetrable fog swirled around the room, obscuring most of the maze's walls. The exercise was meant to test a student's ability to navigate and strategize under difficult conditions, but in Hermione's current state, it felt more like a test of patience.

"Alright, everyone!" Professor Winklebottom's booming voice filled the room. "You know the drill. Find your way through the maze and get to the end. Remember, the fog is enchanted, so don't bother trying to dispel it with weak charms. This is all about intuition, strategy, and a bit of magic."

Hermione rolled her eyes. Just her luck. Not only was her shoulder still sore from the last full moon incident, but her mind was preoccupied with a hundred other pressing matters. The maze was the last thing she wanted to deal with today.

The fog swirled thicker around her as she stepped into the maze, the cool mist clinging to her skin and making it hard to see more than a few feet ahead. She could hear the sounds of her classmates muttering spells or trying to navigate through the disorienting path, but all Hermione felt was a growing sense of annoyance. She didn't have time for this.

Her shoulder throbbed again, a sharp reminder of how drained she was, and the thought of wandering aimlessly through this maze while injured was simply intolerable. She felt her patience snap.

With a firm grip on her wand, Hermione muttered the incantation under her breath, her voice laced with frustration. "Ventus!"

A powerful gust of wind erupted from her wand, swirling violently through the room. The fog began to break apart, dispersing into thin wisps as the charm swept through the maze, revealing the previously hidden paths and obstacles. Technically it wasn't a dispel charm, and physics still applied to enchanted fogs as well.

In the stunned silence that followed, Hermione didn't bother to stop. With the maze now laid bare, she strode forward confidently, weaving through the now-visible path and heading straight for the exit. The other students, still navigating their way through the scattered fog, stared in shock as she bypassed them with ease.

When she reached the end, Hermione handed her essay to Professor Winklebottom, who looked utterly baffled by what had just happened. His mouth opened as if to say something, but before he could speak, one of her classmates shouted from somewhere in the maze, "Hey, that's cheating!"

Hermione turned, her eyes cool as she met the gaze of the student who'd called out. Without missing a beat, she replied, "There's no cheating in a real fight. No one said you're forced to play by your opponent's rules."

There was a murmur of agreement and surprise from the students who had heard her, but Hermione didn't stay to listen. She was done with the maze, done with the exercise, and done with playing by arbitrary rules when she had far bigger problems to deal with, her time would better be spent in the library.

Professor Winklebottom, clearly at a loss for words, simply took the essay from her, blinking in surprise as she walked out of the room, leaving the rest of the students to finish the maze on their own as the fog filtered back in.


The library was dimly lit, the shelves casting long shadows in the quiet space. Hermione sat in her usual corner with a large tome of advanced protective charms open in front of her. She was supposed to be working on her ultimate protection project, but her mind kept drifting. The pressure of too many things—Peter's betrayal, her stalled progress, and the constant worry of shaping events in a way that kept everyone alive—was making it hard to focus.

The soft, deliberate sound of footsteps snapped her back to reality. She looked up to find Severus Snape standing just a few feet away, his dark eyes fixed on her with an intensity that immediately set her on guard.

"Delacour," he said, his voice low, though it carried easily in the quiet space.

"Snape," Hermione replied evenly, sitting up straighter. She noted the tension in his posture, the way his gaze seemed to scrutinise her every movement.

Snape didn't waste time with pleasantries. "You spend a lot of time around Lily Evans," he began, his words sharp. "Would you know why she suddenly stopped visiting the dungeons?"

Hermione's heart gave a small jolt. So, Snape had noticed Lily's absence after all. She had suspected he would, but hearing the confirmation made the situation more delicate. "I'm not sure," she said carefully. "Why? Was there something important she was doing down there?"

Snape's gaze darkened, his lips pressing into a thin line. "She was down there often. Working on… something," he said, his voice betraying a mix of curiosity and something else—something possessive. "And then she stopped. Rather abruptly."

Hermione kept her expression neutral, her mind racing. Of course, Snape had noticed Lily's strange activity, but she couldn't afford to reveal the true reason for her relocation to the Room of Requirement. She couldn't let him get too close to the truth. "Lily has her reasons for what she does," she said vaguely. "She's been busy with other things I assume."

Snape narrowed his eyes, stepping closer. "Other things?" He almost sneered. "She was down there for weeks. Then she vanishes, as if I—someone scared her off. What was she working on?"

Hermione felt a pang of unease. She couldn't tell him about the secret potion or the Room of Requirement, but she had to give him something. "If you're asking me what she was doing, I'm afraid I can't help you," Hermione said, her voice calm but firm. "Lily doesn't confide in me about everything."

Snape's expression remained unreadable, but the frustration was evident in his eyes. "She was in the dungeons, Delacour. For weeks. Then, suddenly, she's gone. People don't just abandon something like that without a reason."

Hermione tilted her head slightly, choosing her words carefully. "Maybe she found a better place to work on whatever it was," she suggested casually. "Or maybe she decided it wasn't worth the risk anymore. After all, the dungeons are not exactly the safest place for secret projects, are they?"

His jaw clenched at her subtle implication. "And what would you know about risks?" he asked, his voice cold. "You've only been here a few months, and yet you seem to know far too much."

Hermione met his gaze steadily, unwilling to let him intimidate her. "I know enough," she said, her tone cool. "Enough to know that Lily's safety is more important than whatever curiosity you have."

Snape's eyes flashed dangerously at that, but he didn't immediately respond. Instead, he studied her for a long, uncomfortable moment, as if trying to see through the calm mask she wore. "You think you know her," he said quietly, but there was an edge to his words. "But Lily… she's more than what you believe. More than what any of you believe."

Hermione's heart ached for him, for the complicated feelings he still harboured for Lily, but this wasn't the time to dwell on that. She had to steer the conversation away from dangerous territory. "Lily's capable of making her own choices," she said softly. "She's strong, and she doesn't need anyone to protect her."

Snape's gaze hardened. "She's not as invincible as you think, Delacour. And one day, you'll realise that."

Hermione didn't respond to that, sensing that any further argument would only deepen his resentment. Instead, she shifted her focus. "I don't know what Lily was working on," she said carefully. "But whatever it is, she's probably taken it elsewhere. You might have to accept that."

For a moment, Snape's face twisted with frustration, his fists clenching by his sides. But then, as quickly as the tension had risen, he seemed to collect himself, his expression returning to its usual impassive mask. "We'll see," he muttered before turning on his heel, his robes billowing behind him as he strode out of the library.

Hermione exhaled slowly, feeling the weight of the encounter settle in her chest. Snape's curiosity was dangerous, and she knew that he wouldn't let this go easily. He was too intelligent, too perceptive. But for now, she had managed to keep him at bay.

As she watched his retreating figure disappear into the shadows, Hermione couldn't help but feel a sense of dread. Snape was growing more suspicious, and it was only a matter of time before he found out more than she could afford to let him know.


The Gryffindor common room was unusually quiet that night. Most of the students had already gone up to their dorms or were gathered in small groups, chatting softly by the fire. James, Sirius, and Remus sat together in one corner, their expressions tense, their usual easy camaraderie replaced by something much darker.

For three days, Peter had been avoiding them—ever since the night of the full moon when everything had gone so disastrously wrong. Hermione had been injured, Remus had lost control, and Peter had disappeared. Not showing for even classes.

Now, the door to the common room creaked open, and Peter finally shuffled in, his eyes darting nervously as though he hoped to slip past unnoticed. But he didn't make it far before James stood up, his jaw clenched.

"Wormtail," James called, his voice low but commanding as he stepped forward, cutting off Peter's escape. He intercepted him swiftly, his presence imposing, and then with a sharp nod, gestured to the stairs leading up to their dormitory. "Upstairs," he said, his voice cold. "We need to talk."

Peter's face drained of colour, but he followed wordlessly, his head down as James led the way. Sirius and Remus exchanged a look before getting up from their seats and heading for the stairs as well. The air in the common room felt tense, but no one else seemed to notice the storm brewing as the Marauders quietly ascended to their dormitory.

Once they reached the room, James shut the door firmly behind them, his jaw tight. He crossed his arms, standing in front of Peter, who had retreated to the corner, his hands fidgeting nervously.

"Where the hell have you been?" James demanded, his voice sharp and filled with barely-contained anger. They could have checked the map, sure, but to be honest they had been so angry at first, they decided to wait Peter out, to let the initial rage simmer down a bit, lest they did something unforgivable. They just didn't think it would take him this long to show his face. They were starting to think something had happened to him.

Peter froze, his small frame looking even smaller under the weight of their collective gaze. He didn't meet any of their eyes as he shuffled closer, his hands wringing together. "I—uh—I was around," he mumbled.

Sirius scoffed, leaning forward with an incredulous look. "Around? You disappeared for two bloody days. You've got to do better than that, Wormtail."

Peter swallowed hard, his eyes flickering between them. "I—I didn't mean to..."

"Didn't mean to?" Sirius cut in, his voice low and dangerous as he stepped forward, his eyes boring into Peter. "You ran toward Hogsmeade, making Moony chase you, then you disappeared. What the bloody hell were you thinking?"

Remus, standing near the window, remained silent, his face a mask of controlled fury. But his presence, his disappointment, weighed heavily in the room.

Peter's shoulders hunched, and he finally muttered, "I—I just panicked."

"Panicked?" James echoed, disbelief lacing his words. "You panicked, so you ran toward Hogsmeade? You know that wasn't the plan. We were supposed to stay near the tunnel."

Peter's eyes flickered toward Remus, but he quickly looked away, his voice trembling. "I didn't mean to cause trouble. I just—I didn't know what to do. So I ran."

"And then what?" Sirius snapped, crossing his arms as he towered over Peter. "You disappeared for three days. Where did you go? Where did you sleep?"

Peter swallowed hard, still avoiding their gazes. "I... I stayed as a rat," he admitted quietly. "Near the kitchens."

There was a beat of stunned silence. Then, Sirius let out a harsh laugh, though there was no humour in it. "You've been hiding as a rat near the kitchens while we've been worried sick about you? While Mina's recovering with a busted shoulder, you were sneaking scraps of food like some coward?"

Peter flinched but didn't say anything, his face pale. The tension in the room was thick, almost suffocating, and the other Marauders stared at him as though waiting for him to explain himself. But Peter had nothing to offer, no explanation that could undo what had happened.

"Why didn't you come back?" Remus asked, his voice softer now but still laced with disappointment. "You could have returned. We would have understood if you'd just... explained."

Peter's eyes flickered briefly to Remus, but they were filled with fear, shame, and something else—something none of them could quite place.

The silence stretched on, and it was Remus who finally broke it again, his brow furrowed in thought. "Is it... is it because of Mina?"

Peter stiffened, his head snapping up to look at Remus for the first time. "What?" he croaked.

Remus stepped forward, his voice calm but steady. "Are you... jealous? Because Mina's been included in the group? Is that why you've been acting off?"

Peter blinked, clearly surprised by the suggestion. He hesitated for a long moment, and then, almost too quickly, he latched onto it. "Y-Yeah. Maybe that's it. I just... I felt like I was being pushed aside." His words sounded unconvincing, as if he himself didn't quite believe them.

James and Sirius exchanged a glance, but neither said anything. They weren't sure what to make of this sudden confession.

Remus sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. "Peter, we're not pushing you aside. You're still one of us. But you can't just run off like that. You put everyone in danger."

Peter nodded quickly, his movements jerky. "I know, I know. I won't do it again, I swear."

The tension in the room seemed to ease just a fraction, but the atmosphere was still heavy with unspoken doubts. James stepped forward, placing a hand on Peter's shoulder, though his grip was firmer than usual. "Alright, Wormtail. But if you ever pull something like that again—"

"I won't," Peter interrupted, his voice thin. "I won't."

Sirius, who had been glaring at Peter the entire time, finally let out a long breath. "You'd better not. We don't abandon each other, Peter. Not ever."

For a moment, there was an awkward silence. The Marauders had always been a tight-knit group, their trust in each other unshakable. But something had shifted now, something that couldn't be easily repaired. They might have patched things up on the surface, but deep down, the fracture was still there—an invisible line between them.

"Alright, then," James said quietly, pulling away from Peter. "Let's just... move on from this. We've got bigger things to worry about."

The others nodded, though the air between them still felt strained. Peter glanced around, his face pale and drawn, but he forced a smile. "Yeah. Bigger things."

They might have made up, but the bonds between them were no longer the same. Trust had been broken, and none of them could deny it.

Just as the tense silence settled over the room, there was a quiet knock at the door. The sound made everyone freeze for a second, their heads turning toward the entrance. The door creaked open slightly, and Mina peeked in.

"Hey—" she began, but as soon as she sensed the heavy atmosphere, her words faltered. Her eyes swept over the tense faces of the Marauders, and she immediately understood that something was off.

Her gaze briefly lingered on Peter, who looked even smaller and more nervous under her glance. "Sorry," she said quickly, backing up. "I just wanted a dressing change for my shoulder, but... it can wait."

James, still visibly tense, was the first to respond, his tone softening slightly. "Mina, wait. It's alright. Come in."

Mina hesitated, her hand still on the doorknob, but Sirius gave her a quick nod, indicating she should stay. "We're done here anyway," Sirius said, though his voice was far from casual.

Remus, who had remained silent for most of the conversation, finally pushed off from the windowsill and moved toward her. His gaze was tired, but his concern for Mina was evident. "Let me take care of that for you," he said softly, nodding to her injured shoulder.

Mina stepped inside the room, her eyes darting briefly to Peter again before focusing on Remus. "Thanks," she murmured, moving toward him.

The tension in the room had shifted, though it hadn't entirely dissipated. James and Sirius exchanged a look before turning back to Peter, who was still standing awkwardly by the door.

"Peter, go on ahead," James said, his tone more subdued now. "We'll talk more later."

Peter, clearly eager to escape, nodded quickly. "Yeah, alright," he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. He slipped past Mina without making eye contact and hurried out of the room, the door clicking softly behind him.

Instead of addressing what had just happened, the Marauders quickly shifted focus. Sirius, ever the master of diversion, hopped off his bed and grinned. "So, Mina, you still planning to charm every book in the library into flying to you at once at the next study session? 'Cause I gotta say, that would be one hell of a show."

Remus, kneeling beside her to carefully unwrap the bandage on her shoulder, shot Sirius a knowing glance but didn't say anything.

Hermione winced as the cool air hit the bite mark, the throbbing pain reminding her of the slow healing process. She gave a tight smile, trying to sound nonchalant despite the pain. "I wasn't planning on it," she said lightly, but there was a faint flicker of alarm in her eyes. "I'm pretty sure Madam Pince would skin me alive, and this bite would be the least of my worries."

Sirius laughed, clearly pleased that the bait had worked. "Oh, come on, imagine the chaos! You could have Ravenclaws scrambling for their precious tomes while we sit back and watch."

Hermione's forced smile barely held as she suppressed a shudder. The idea of sending the books into chaos, with pages torn or bindings damaged, was something she couldn't bear to think about. "Tempting," she managed to say, though her tone was far from convincing. Hurting books—even hypothetically—was almost an unbearable thought.

James caught on and grinned, enjoying her discomfort. "I think she's horrified at the idea, Pads. Better leave the books alone, or she'll hex us into oblivion."

"Well, tempting is what we do best," Sirius declared, clearly undeterred. "Speaking of which, Remus has been holding out on us. He told me there's some brilliant new spell he's been working on, but he refuses to demonstrate it."

Remus rolled his eyes, focusing on gently wrapping Hermione's shoulder with fresh bandages. "It's not ready yet, Pads."

"Oh, come on," Sirius teased, grinning as he leaned closer to Remus. "I bet Mina would love to see it. Especially if it's some flashy, dramatic charm."

Hermione raised an eyebrow, playing along, though still trying to shake off the uncomfortable thought of chaos in the library. "Flashy, dramatic charms? I'm intrigued."

Remus smirked but kept his attention on the task at hand. "I think you've had enough excitement for one week."

Sirius nudged him with his elbow. "Oh, come on, Moony. Show her. What's the worst that could happen? It's not like you're going to turn the entire common room upside down—wait, can you do that?"

James laughed, clearly enjoying the deflection. "We'd better hope he can't. The last thing we need is another reason for McGonagall to give us detention."

Hermione chuckled despite the dull ache in her shoulder. The tension from earlier had dissipated, the conversation turning to playful banter as the Marauders did their best to distract her from the discomfort.

Once Remus finished with the bandage, he gave her a reassuring smile. "All done."

She flexed her shoulder slightly, testing it out, and gave him a grateful nod. "Thanks."

"No problem," Remus said, sitting back on the bed. "So, are we doing this flying book thing or not? Sirius seems to be counting on it."

Sirius gave an exaggerated sigh. "I'm just saying, it's the perfect way to spice up a dull study session. You'll be a legend."

"Or I'll be banned from the library for life," Hermione retorted, her smile more genuine now, but still cringing inwardly at the thought of any harm coming to the books.

James grinned, leaning back. "Well, that's a small price to pay for making history."


Hermione took a deep breath as she stood outside Dumbledore's office on Tuesday night, her mind racing. These mentoring sessions had become almost routine over the past several months, but tonight she couldn't shake the sense of foreboding. She had too many tasks piling up, too many unanswered questions, and too many worries pulling her in different directions. She had hoped for more progress with Lily's potion or with her protection project, but she was hitting walls everywhere she turned.

"Sherbet lemon," she muttered the recently changed password, and the gargoyle moved aside, revealing the winding staircase leading to Dumbledore's office.

As she ascended, she tried to calm her nerves. This was supposed to be a routine meeting. A chance to discuss her progress, seek guidance, maybe even some comfort in the form of Dumbledore's cryptic but well-meaning advice.

The door to the headmaster's office creaked open, and there he was, sitting behind his grand desk, his half-moon glasses perched on his nose as he looked over some parchment. He glanced up when she entered, his eyes twinkling in that familiar, knowing way.

"Miss Granger," he greeted warmly, motioning to the chair in front of him. "Do sit down."

Hermione took her seat, watching him closely. Despite his calm demeanour, she knew this conversation was going to be far from casual.

"Now," Dumbledore began, setting the parchment aside, "I understand you've been quite busy. Perhaps you can update me on your progress with Miss Evans and the Emerald Potion?"

Hermione nodded, grateful to start with something straightforward. "Lily's getting close. She's been fine-tuning the antidote, but she's not quite there yet. We're still working through the final stages."

Dumbledore nodded thoughtfully, stroking his beard. "It sounds like you are both on the right track. Please pass along my admiration for her continued efforts."

Hermione gave a tight smile. "I will."

Then Dumbledore's eyes flickered with curiosity, his tone shifting slightly. "And what of your own secret project? Miss Evans hinted at you having something in the works during her last session here."

Hermione's stomach tightened. She had been reluctant to discuss it, but there was no avoiding it now. She exhaled slowly, leaning forward. "I'm working on creating an ultimate protection against the Killing Curse. I know that protection for someone else through self-sacrifice exists, but... I'm trying to find a way to do it without that element."

Dumbledore's expression remained calm, though there was a subtle intensity in his gaze. "Ah, yes. A noble pursuit, but a difficult one."

"I know," Hermione said, her frustration evident. "I've been using charms, ancient runes, and arithmancy to calculate the protection, but... I'm stuck. The equations aren't adding up. It feels like something's missing, but I don't know what."

Dumbledore leaned back in his chair, his eyes narrowing in thought. "You may be seeking an answer to a question that does not have one, Hermione. While magic can achieve many extraordinary things, it has limits. Protection from a curse as ancient and final as Avada Kedavra is a challenge that few have ever come close to understanding."

Hermione bit her lip, her brow furrowing. "But... I have to believe there's something. There's always a solution."

Dumbledore offered her a gentle smile. "There is no harm in trying, of course. But remember that even the greatest of wizards have struggled with this same dilemma. You are walking a difficult path."

Hermione nodded, though the frustration gnawed at her. She had been hoping for some insight that might break through her roadblock, but Dumbledore's cautionary words only reinforced her fears that this might be an unsolvable problem.

"However," Dumbledore continued, "I would suggest considering not just the mechanics of the spell, but the nature of sacrifice itself. Perhaps there is more to it than simply avoiding death."

Hermione frowned, turning his words over in her mind, but before she could ask for clarification, Dumbledore shifted the conversation.

"Now," he said, his voice soft but serious, "I believe it is time we discuss another matter—one that concerns the Horcruxes."

Hermione's heart skipped a beat. She had known this was coming, but it didn't make the topic any easier to broach. "What about the Horcruxes?" she asked cautiously.

Dumbledore's eyes seemed to darken, the twinkle in them fading slightly. "Mr Potter, Mr Black and Mr Lupin, as you know, are quite resourceful. Recently, they brought me the diadem."

Hermione's eyes widened. "They... they brought it to you? You mean they somehow found it in the Room of Requirement?"

Dumbledore nodded. "Indeed. They have been rather persistent in their investigations, and they have come to understand that the diadem is no ordinary object. I believe Mr Black had education on the subject as a young boy as a cautionary tale. They know it is a Horcrux. They also know it belongs to Tom Riddle."

Hermione felt her stomach drop. The Marauders knew about the Horcruxes. That was bad enough, but Dumbledore wasn't finished.

"They have also," he added quietly, "put together that the prophecy relates to you."

Hermione's breath caught in her throat. Her mind whirled, pieces of the past few months clicking into place. "They know? Since when? How?"

Dumbledore folded his hands on the desk, his voice calm but regretful. "I believe they pieced it together shortly after they delivered the diadem due to prior knowledge of the prophecy and some inadvertent comments on my end to reassure them that you and Miss Evans were not mucking about with evil soul pieces as a side project for me. It was about a fortnight ago."

A flood of memories rushed through Hermione's mind, and suddenly everything made sense. The night when Remus had hugged her so desperately, the way the boys had acted strangely when they returned to the common room—it was because they knew. They had known this whole time.

Hermione shot to her feet, fury bubbling up inside her. "And you didn't tell me?" she demanded, her voice shaking. "You let them figure this out on their own, and you didn't tell me?"

Dumbledore didn't flinch. "I did not think it was necessary at the time."

"Not necessary?" Hermione was livid. "Do you have any idea what this means? What it could mean for them—for me?"

Dumbledore regarded her calmly, though there was a weight to his words. "I understand your concern. But now that they know, we must consider the next steps."

Hermione's mind raced. If the Marauders knew, how long would it be before Peter found out? "What about Peter?" she asked, her voice tight with worry. "If he finds out..."

"Given their current tensions, it seems unlikely that Mr Pettigrew will learn of this directly," Dumbledore said, though he shared her concern. Hermione didn't even question how the headmaster knew that the Marauders were currently at odds with each other. "However, you must remain vigilant. Which brings me to my next point. It may be wise for you to... cosy up to Mr Pettigrew. Earn his trust. He is not lost yet, but winning his allegiance may help secure our efforts."

Hermione stared at Dumbledore, incredulous. "You want me to get close to Peter?"

Dumbledore's expression softened. "I believe that Mr Pettigrew's path can still be swayed, if the right influence is applied. And no one is better suited for that task than you."

But Hermione shook her head, the weight of what she knew pressing heavily on her chest. "Actually," she said quietly, her voice suddenly brittle, "I'm the worst suited for that."

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow, waiting for her to continue.

Hermione swallowed hard, her hands gripping the arms of the chair. "Because I know something none of the others do. Something none of them could even imagine."

Dumbledore remained calm, though his gaze sharpened slightly. "And what is that, Miss Granger?"

She felt her stomach twist as the words tumbled out. "What Peter does in the future. How he betrays them—his best friends to Tom." She closed her eyes briefly, the memory of that horrible future flashing before her. "He hadn't done it yet, no, and maybe never will, since we have a different prophecy. But... he can still betray me."

Her voice wavered with the weight of her emotions as she continued. "And he had already betrayed them in smaller ways, over and over again. He was always looking out for himself. Even before the ultimate betrayal, he was doing things for his own benefit, never for the group."

Dumbledore's expression remained thoughtful, but he didn't speak immediately, giving Hermione the space to process what she was saying. He leaned forward slightly, his eyes compassionate but resolute. "You carry a great burden, Miss Granger. One that is uniquely yours because of the knowledge you hold. But consider this: if the future has already begun to change—if the prophecy is already different—perhaps Peter's path can change as well."

Hermione's chest tightened. "Maybe," she whispered, though doubt filled her mind. "But even if it could change, it's still Peter. He was always selfish, always hiding something. I don't know if I can make myself trust him again, knowing what I know."

Dumbledore nodded slowly. "The choice, ultimately, is yours. But be mindful, Miss Granger—just as we cannot predict all the choices Peter will make, we also cannot predict the impact you may have on him."

Hermione let out a shaky breath, her thoughts swirling. Could she really influence Peter before it was too late? Or was she risking further betrayal?

"I'll think about it," she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper.

Dumbledore gave her a gentle nod, his gaze filled with understanding. "That is all I ask."

Hermione's own hypocrisy wasn't lost on her. Had she not been championing Snape and Regulus all this time? Arguing that they could still be saved, that they deserved a second chance? Yet this felt different, didn't it? Snape and Regulus had ultimately come back to the light, chosen to fight back against the darkness, even at great personal cost.

But Peter… Peter hadn't. In the future she knew, he had remained the same self-serving rat that he had always been, never brave enough to choose his friends over his own survival.

Except, at the very end, at Malfoy Manor. He had hesitated. That moment had cost him his life, but it had also allowed Harry to escape. It was a brief flicker of something—something that might have been a shred of the old Peter, the one who had once been their friend. But was that moment of hesitation really due to remorse? Or had it simply been the result of the life debt he owed to Harry? After all, Harry had stopped Sirius and Remus from killing him back in their third year, and life debts were powerful magic.

Hermione's chest tightened as the memory surfaced. Even in the face of death, Peter had hesitated for only a moment. Was that enough to believe he could change now? Could she really trust him to do the right thing before it was too late?