Ron Weasley

The Great Hall was decked out in its festive best for the Christmas feast, and for once, the air was filled with pure, unbridled joy, unmarred by dementors, escaped convicts, or the looming shadow of loony Ravenclaws. Garlands of holly and ivy hung in graceful loops from the walls, their deep green leaves and red berries reflecting the warm glow of the floating candles, which seemed to burn even brighter tonight, casting an amber warmth across the long tables. There was no formality tonight, no worries, just a night of laughter and merriment for students and teachers alike, a true celebration to welcome the approaching holiday.

With students set to leave for their homes the next day, this informal gathering was the last chance for everyone to come together and revel in the delicious spread of Hogwarts' cuisine before scattering across the country and beyond for Christmas.

Ron Weasley, seated near the center of the Gryffindor table, was very aware of that and so he decided to fully embrace the moment. He had been devouring everything within reach since the start of the feast: gravy-drenched roast potatoes, fluffy rolls, and especially the generous slices of turkey, which he piled onto his plate with impressive speed. Between bites, he kept up an easy conversation with Harry and Hermione, who sat next to him and across from him, respectively, each of them adding their own special flavour to the chatter filling the hall.

Harry looked genuinely cheerful, his eyes bright as he talked excitedly about Gryffindor's recent Quidditch win against Hufflepuff, the triumph doing wonders to shake off any lingering gloom from his whole "rogue house-elf assassin trying to smother me with a pillow" incident. He was practically beaming as he recounted his latest dive and snitch-grab, his enthusiasm contagious.

Across from him, Hermione was a bit more distracted, casting occasional glances toward the Ravenclaw table. Still, she seemed present, joining in with a small smirk or a quick snip whenever Harry or Ron made a joke or a particularly silly comment- sometimes deliberately meant to coax a reaction out of her.

It was a welcome relief for Ron to see her relatively relaxed; he and Harry had grown increasingly concerned about her latest… investigation and the paranoia that accompanied it. But tonight, Hermione seemed more like herself, quick-witted and—at least for now—content to enjoy their company.

For one rare, precious evening, the three of them felt almost like they did before this and previous year's troubles. Ron could only hope it would last, savouring this slice of normalcy in the midst of all the madness.

The Gryffindor table was packed with the familiar, friendly faces of his housemates, everyone caught up in the rare bliss of good food, good company, and a temporary escape from classes- and from serial murderers and soul-sucking demons. (Though, if Ron were being honest, the classes ranked a bit higher on his personal worry list.)

The Hall rang with the joyful sound of clinking glasses and clattering silverware, the chatter and bursts of laughter filling the air like the soundtrack of a carefree holiday, everyone around him happy and relaxed.

Well, almost everyone.

As Ron took a contented glance down the table, his eyes landed on Colin Creevey. Colin, one of his more enthusiastic juniors- and apparently a very determined creator of Hogwarts' first school newspaper- was for some reason completely ignoring the feast, his eyes darting around the hall and his hands hovering anxiously over his prized camera. He looked like he was expecting something to happen at any moment, his face taut with a mix of excitement and nervousness.

Somewhat curious, Ron leaned forward and, after taking a hearty sip of gravy from his spoon (action that earned him Hermione's disgusted scowl, one he promptly ignored), poked Colin in the arm.

Colin flinched, jolting out of his trance and turning wide-eyed to Ron. Satisfied that he had Colin's attention, Ron grinned. "Oi, mate, why are you all jittery? Did you drink one of the twins' mystery potions or something? It's Christmas—relax a bit, yeah?"

Colin chuckled awkwardly, scratching the back of his head. "Oh, yeah, I guess I am a bit of a stick in the mud, huh?"

"Don't sweat it, but really, what's got you so jumpy?" Ron replied reassuringly, interested in the answer.

Colin hesitated, glancing around as if to make sure no one else was listening. Then, with a conspiratorial gleam, he leaned in, seemingly about to reveal some big secret. After Ron exchanged amused looks with Harry and Hermione, who were also listening, the three of them leaned in too.

"I got an anonymous note this morning. It was stuck in my Transfiguration book- right in the chapter we were covering," Colin whispered, eyes wide with excitement and his voice hushed. He didn't seem overly alarmed by the development he had described, which was interesting. "It said something important is going to happen tonight, and I should be ready to capture it." He patted his camera for emphasis, a proud glint in his eyes.

"Capture what, exactly?" Hermione asked, raising an eyebrow. She mostly looked innocently curious, but Ron noted the slight spark in her eyes that warned of Nuttymione-mode cautiously creeping in.

"I don't exactly know…" Colin shrugged, admitting his lack of knowledge. He then smiled, however, his expression both puzzled and thrilled at the same time. "But the last time I got a note like this was right before the Pureblood-Muggleborn protests. So, I think it's a pretty reliable source."

Hermione flinched at the mention of the protests, her expression shifting as if she was already piecing together a thousand connections in her head. Ron noticed her Nuttymione look growing by the second, and he braced himself, knowing she was about to unleash her theories on whatever connections she'd mentally drawn between this mystery and the loony trio.

Before she could launch into a tirade, however, someone else sidled up to their part of the table. Looking up, Ron saw Seamus Finnigan, their housemate and notorious explosion victim, who had been oddly absent for most of the feast.

"Evening, everyone!" Seamus greeted, stopping next to their group. Normally, Ron would've greeted him back without a second thought, but tonight, something about Seamus seemed… off. Though he appeared relaxed, there was a tension in his stance, as if he were primed to spring into action at any moment. What's more important, his tone, usually easy-going, was unnervingly intense and almost forced.

Not to mention, he spoke without his usual accent.

"Ron, Hermione…" Seamus started, his gaze landing on each of them in turn. When he looked at Harry, however, his tone softened into something strangely tender. "Harry."

Harry shifted uncomfortably in response, slightly weirded out by the attention, his smile faltering. "Er—hi, Seamus."

An awkward silence fell between them, stretching out painfully as Seamus continued to stare at Harry, his gaze intense and unwavering. Ron shot Harry a questioning look, hoping he might have some idea about Seamus' behaviour, but Harry only looked back at him with the same bewildered expression. Seamus had always been a bit of an oddball, but this was taking it to a whole new level.

Ron cleared his throat, hoping to break the uncomfortable silence. "So, uh… where've you been all evening?" he asked, deliberately keeping his tone casual. "You missed the start of the feast."

Seamus blinked, his gaze snapping away from Harry as if he'd just remembered Ron was there.

"Oh, right. I was… occupied," he answered vaguely, as if the question had caught him off guard. He seemed to consider his answer for a moment, then simply shrugged, leaving the question hanging. "Doesn't really matter. But since we're talking, Ron…" he turned toward him, his gaze strangely intense again. "…I was wondering if I could see your rat. Scabbers, was it? There's something I need to… check."

Ron narrowed his eyes, feeling a prickle of suspicion.

Seamus was his friend, sure, but this entire situation was becoming too weird for his tastes. Why in Merlin's name would Seamus, of all people, even need to see Scabbers?

He is my friend, Ron reminded himself. It was probably a harmless curiosity. His whole weird vibe was probably just another of his experiments gone wrong. For all he knew, Seamus was just confused and needed a quick trip to Madame Pomfrey.

Yes, that was probably just that. If he started suspecting his friends, he would be no better than Her…Malfoy.

"Er… alright, I suppose," Ron conceded after a moment, reaching into his pocket to pull out Scabbers. He didn't know why, but the old rat had taken to hiding there, for reasons Ron could only guess. Perhaps it was because of his age; at nearly thirteen, Scabbers was practically two hundred in rat years. At this point he was probably more senile than Professor Dumbledore.

Perhaps Ron had underestimated Scabbers' attachment to his pocket, because the moment he pulled the rat out and Scabbers caught sight of Seamus, the animal went berserk. Tiny claws dug into Ron's hand as Scabbers twisted and squirmed, thrashing wildly in a desperate attempt to escape.

"Oi! What's gotten into you?" Ron exclaimed, struggling to hold on to the surprisingly strong, wiry little body. He thought about shoving Scabbers back into his pocket, hoping it would calm him down, but before he could act, Seamus reached over and, with startling speed, snatched the rat from his grip.

"Hey!" Ron protested, his irritation flaring. "What do you think you're-"

"Don't worry, Ron. You'll understand everything soon enough," Seamus said, his voice unsettlingly calm as he held Scabbers aloft, ignoring the furious bites the rat was delivering to his hand. Without waiting for any kind of response, Seamus turned on his heel and strode toward the center of the hall, oblivious to the startled shouts behind him.

"Don't worry, Ron. You'll understand everything soon enough," Seamus said, his voice deathly calm as he held Scabbers up, somehow ignoring the vicious bites the feral animal started giving him the moment it realized what happened. Without waiting for anyone to respond, the boy started walking towards the center of the hall, ignoring shouts behind him.

For a while, Seamus's strange behavior went unnoticed by most of the hall's occupants. But gradually, as students around him took in the sight of the Gryffindor boy marching purposefully across the floor, his face set and stony, clutching a thrashing rat in an increasingly maimed hand, more and more heads turned his way. Whispers rippled across the tables, the murmurs growing louder as Seamus strode toward the space between the House tables and the staff table, where his steps finally came to a halt, echoing ominously in the growing silence.

"Can I have everyone's attention?" Seamus's voice rang out, resonant and clear, yet strangely dissonant—both familiar and disturbingly foreign at once. Instantly, all heads turned, every eye fixed on him with expressions ranging from curiosity to annoyance.

One of the latter was Professor McGonagall, who had been in conversation with Professor Sprout. At the sight of Seamus standing in the middle of the hall, her face darkened, brows drawing together in a fierce scowl. "Mr. Finnigan! What on earth has gotten into you?" Her voice was sharp, her words bristling with disapproval. "This is highly inappropriate behaviour!"

But Seamus simply held up his free hand, a look of quiet, almost apologetic defiance in his eyes as he met McGonagall's gaze, the gesture alone shocking her into silence. "I'm sorry, Professor McGonagall," he said, a faint regret in his tone. "I truly am. But I have something important to say, something that can't wait any longer."

Taking a steadying breath, Seamus swept his gaze across the hall, meeting countless questioning, bewildered eyes before he began.

"I want to talk about Sirius Black." he said, voice dropping to a near-whisper that somehow carried through the entire hall with a dark intensity that raised goosebumps on Ron's arms. "As you all know, he was a servant of Lord Voldemort…" At the sound of the name, a shudder swept through the hall, students and teachers alike flinching in unison. Dumbledore, who had been watching with his usual calm, now regarded Seamus with a hard, unblinking gaze.

"That alone would be damning enough, but Black's crimes…they were more sinister than most." Seamus's tone grew even darker, weighted with barely-contained anger. The hall seemed to hold its breath, every person transfixed and waiting for the other shoe to drop. "Some of you may not know this, but Sirius Black was once a member of the Order of the Phoenix," he continued, his voice dripping with disdain. "Quite a bad choice in retrospect, isn't it?" He allowed himself a small chuckle, giving a quick glance at Professor Dumbledore, whose face was unreadable, the same stony expression mirrored by Professor Lupin a few seats down.

"I don't blame you, Professor," Seamus added, a faint, sarcastic smile tugging at his lips. "After all, wasn't he vouched for by his closest friends? James and Lily Potter?"

A collective gasp filled the Great Hall, and every head turned toward Harry. Ron watched as his friend went rigid, his face paling with shock, his eyes wide and confused as though trying to comprehend what was going on.

Seamus paused, clearly savouring the stunned silence, his gaze shifting slowly from Harry to the rest of the hall, letting the weight of his words sink in. Only when he was sure every person understood did he continue. "Yes… Sirius Black was close to the Potters- closer than most would imagine. So close, in fact, that he was chosen to be the family's secret-keeper. So close that he was made the godfather to their son."

The hall fell into a stunned, unbreachable silence. Even those who had been whispering moments before were now dead quiet, and in the midst of it, Harry looked as though he might faint, his face drained of all colour, green eyes locked on Seamus with an intensity Ron had never seen before.

"They were his dearest friends- practically his family! And what did he do?!" Seamus's voice was now dripping with venom, his eyes alight with an intense, dangerous energy that made Ron's blood run cold. "He betrayed them, sold their location to Voldemort, and in doing so, sentenced them to die!"

A murmur of shock rippled through the hall, but it was nothing compared to the reactions from the staff table. Professor Lupin's usually mild expression had hardened into something almost predatory, his eyes glinting with a barely-contained fury, while Professor Snape, for some incomprehensible reason, looked like he was seconds away from simply blasting the boy on the spot. Yet Seamus seemed unfazed, his gaze sweeping back across the crowd as his voice echoed with chilling fervour.

"And, apparently, that wasn't enough for him!" Seamus continued, his voice growing more unsteady, shaking, his face full of grim fury. "Because the very night he sold the Potters to his master, he decided to kill another of his friends—Peter Pettigrew!" His words grew louder, almost manic, as he spoke. In his grip, Scabbers went wild, the rat's tiny claws and teeth scrabbling frantically against Seamus's bloodied hand. But Seamus didn't seem to notice the injuries, his voice carrying with a relentless intensity. "He killed twelve Muggles to get poor Peter! Twelve! Can you imagine?! He bombed the entire street, slaughtered these innocent people like animals! And he got Peter, he sure did!" He paused, his lip curling in disgust. "You know what was left of Peter after Black's rampage?! A single finger!"

To emphasize his point, Seamus held up his own index finger, his eyes narrowing as he cast a dark, accusing look down at Scabbers, sending an impossible, terrifying suspicion through Ron's mind.

The room held its breath as Seamus shook his head slowly, his gaze distant for a moment before he spread his arms wide in a gesture of twisted theater. "Isn't it a tragic story? Full of sorrow… betrayal… and death?!" He then spread his hands, giving his audience a look full of fury. "Are you not entertained?!"

Ron's pulse hammered in his ears as he pieced together the sinister implications that were dawning on him, his mind racing back to the words he'd just heard.

A rat. A single finger. Peter Pettigrew. Sirius Black. It couldn't be.

His gaze darted around, desperate to share his suspicions with his friends. Unfortunately he was unable to do that, as both of them were indisposed. Harry was deathly pale, his face stricken with horror as he clenched his fists so tightly his knuckles were white. Hermione, meanwhile, was glaring daggers at Michael Brown, who sat as still as stone, meeting her gaze with an unsettling neutrality even as Luna Lovegood, who was sitting beside him, watched him with curiosity.

Ron felt a fresh wave of dread as his eyes snapped back to Seamus, who now wore a savage grin.

"And yet this sad, tragic story…" Seamus's voice suddenly took on a strange, almost triumphant edge. "...is a complete and utter lie!"

Without any warning, he flung Scabbers high into the air and raised his wand, paying no mind to the teachers who had all leapt to their feet, their wands pointed at him in alarm. Before anyone could intervene, Seamus cast a spell at the airborne rat—a sharp burst of white light struck the small creature in the chest.

For a heartbeat, nothing happened. But then Scabbers began to twist and writhe mid-air, his body convulsing in unnatural jerks. Bones cracked and elongated, fur vanished, and in the span of mere seconds, a man tumbled from the air and landed in a heap on the stone floor. He was short and fat, with balding hair and a distinctly shabby look, his face twisted in agony as a strangled scream left his lips upon impact, the air ripped out of his chest by the impact.

Ignoring the man's pained groans, Seamus seized him by the thinning hair and yanked his head up, forcing him to face the Great Hall. "Behold!" he cried, his voice ringing out with raw fury and triumph, captivating the horrified, transfixed audience. "Peter Pettigrew, alive and well! The very man Sirius Black supposedly murdered—right here, missing just an index finger! Isn't it miraculous?!"

Gasps and shouts rippled through the hall, shock and horror etched into every face. Ron's stomach twisted in sick disbelief as the realization settled in, his mind assaulted by the revelation that the creature who had lived with his family for years wasn't a pet but a man, one responsible for many deaths, including his friend's parents'. Looking around, he caught sight of Percy, the twins, and Ginny, all of them staring wide-eyed at Pettigrew with similar expressions of horror and revulsion.

"This is Peter Pettigrew!" Seamus continued, his voice losing any semblance of control, his every word almost a growl. "Wormtail to his friends! Scabbers to his owners! The true Secret-Keeper of the Potter family! The true traitor who condemned James and Lily Potter to death! That night, he cut off his own index finger and framed Sirius Black, betraying his friends and murdering twelve innocent Muggles to cover his tracks! And then he spent the next thirteen years hiding like a coward, pretending to be a rat! Look at him—here he is! Can you all see him?!"

Seamus' voice cracked, raw hatred blazing in his eyes as he fixed Pettigrew with a look of utter contempt. Trembling and terrified, Pettigrew raised his arms in a desperate, pleading gesture, his mouth forming silent words as he tried to explain himself. "It's not—"

But Seamus sneered and fired off another spell, and the rat-man crumpled to the floor, unconscious, his limp form hitting the stone like a sack of bricks.

The hall fell into a stunned silence as Seamus pointed his wand at himself and muttered another spell, and then—he changed.

The transformation left everyone speechless. Gone was Seamus; in his place stood a tall, striking man with long, dark hair that fell past his shoulders and a meticulously groomed beard. He wore a dark, finely tailored suit, paired with an equally dark tie and shirt, his attire somehow both refined and untamed. The man might have looked pristine compared to the wild figure seen on Azkaban posters, but there was no mistaking his identity.

It was Sirius Black himself, the Escapee of Azkaban, standing bold and defiant before the entire Great Hall.

"My name is Sirius Black!" he announced, his voice filled with a power that held everyone captive.

"Head of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black!" he declared, his tone filled with the weight of his family's name.

"One of the Marauders' founders!" he revealed, a flicker of pride in his eyes.

"Loyal member of the Order of the Phoenix!" he proclaimed, each word laced with conviction.

"Friend to a murdered husband and wife!" He growled, his voice heavy and rough with emotion.

"Godfather to their orphaned son!" He announced, his eyes, full of burning intensity, sweeping over the hall.

Finally, his piercing stare landed on the limp body of Peter Pettigrew. He paused, letting the silence stretch unbearably, before delivering his final, chilling promise:

"And I will have my vengeance—in this life or the next."

The hall remained deathly quiet, every eye locked on him, as if frozen by his presence. The weight of his words hung in the air, each one resonating like a thunderclap. And then, to Ron's utter disbelief, Sirius Black did the last thing he'd expected.

He knelt, lowering himself to the floor in a single, controlled movement. Setting his wand gently down, he placed his hands behind his head in an unmistakable gesture of surrender. Yet, even in this posture, his face was lit with a fierce, triumphant smile, as if he had achieved a victory no one else could understand.

A flash lit up the room as Colin's camera captured the scene: Sirius Black, peacefully kneeling in surrender, and beside him, the unconscious body of Peter Pettigrew, his supposed victim.

The Great Hall was still for a heartbeat longer, and then- mayhem erupted.

Author's thoughts:

What? I wrote this chapter just because it was easier than diving back into my other story? Absolutely not! Preposterous!

Also, yes. Sirius' speech was suggested/partially written by you know who. Well, not You-Know-Who, but you know who. Of course, with Sirius's memories wiped, he probably thinks he came up with the speech all by himself.