SCABBERS HAD BEGUN TO STRUGGLE HARDER, his gray body becoming a writhing blur in Lupin's hands as Lupin stared down at him with a look of supreme annoyance and disappointment. "Ready, Sirius?"

Black had already retrieved Snape's wand from the bed. He approached Lupin and the struggling rat, and his wet eyes suddenly seemed to be burning in his face.

"Together?" he said quietly.

"I think so", said 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 erupted from both wands; for a moment, Scabbers was frozen in midair, his small gray form twisting madly — Freya screamed in panic — the rat fell and hit the floor. There was another blinding flash of light and then —

It was like watching a speeded-up film of a growing tree. A head was shooting upward from the ground; limbs were sprouting; a moment later, a man was standing where Scabbers had been, cringing and wringing his hands. Crookshanks was spitting and snarling on the bed; the hair on his back was standing up.

He was a very short man, hardly taller than Harry, Will, or Freya. His thin, colorless hair was unkempt and there was a large bald patch on top. He had the shrunken appearance of a plump man who has lost a lot of weight in a short time. His skin looked grubby, almost like Scabbers's fur, and something of the rat lingered around his pointed nose and his very small, watery eyes. He looked around at them all, his breathing fast and shallow. Harry saw his eyes dart to the door and back again.

Harry glanced over at his friend and winced upon seeing Freya's already pale face turned paler still at the sight of what her rat had become.

Or, far worse, atwho her rat had always been.

"Well, hello, Peter," said Lupin pleasantly, as though rats frequently erupted into old school friends around him. "Long time, no see."

"S—Sirius… R—Remus…" Even Pettigrew's voice was squeaky. Again, his eyes darted toward the door. "My friends… my old friends…"

Black's wand arm rose, but Lupin seized him around the wrist, gave him a warning took, then turned 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," gasped Pettigrew, and Harry could 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," said Lupin, more coldly. "I'd like to clear up one or two little matters with you, Peter, if you'll be so —"

"He's come to try and kill me again!" Pettigrew squeaked suddenly, pointing at Black, and Harry saw that he used his middle finger, because his index was 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 looked more skull-like than ever as he stared at Pettigrew with his fathomless eyes.

"No one's going to try and kill you until we've sorted a few things out," said Lupin.

"Sorted things out?" squealed 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!"

*SKIPPING SLIGHTLY, BECAUSE IT'S REPETITIVE BOOK WISE*

"Believe me," croaked Black. "Believe me, Harry. I never betrayed James and Lily. I would have died before I betrayed them."

And at long last, Harry believed him. Throat too tight to speak, he nodded.

"No!"

Pettigrew had fallen to his knees as though Harry's nod had been his own death sentence. He shuffled 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 kicked out and Pettigrew recoiled.

"There's enough filth on my robes without you touching them," said Black.

"Remus!" Pettigrew squeaked, 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," said Lupin. "I assume that's why you didn't tell me, Sirius?" he said casually over Pettigrew's head.

"Forgive me, Remus," said Black.

"Not at all, Padfoot, old friend," said Lupin, who was now rolling up his sleeves. "And will you, in turn, forgive me for believing you were the spy?"

"Of course," said Black, and the ghost of a grin flitted across his gaunt face. He, too, began rolling up his sleeves. "Shall we kill him together?"

"Yes, I think so," said Lupin grimly.

"You wouldn't… you won't…" gasped Pettigrew. And he scrambled around to Freya. "Freya… haven't I been a good friend… a good pet? You won't let them kill me, Freya, will you… you're on my side, aren't you?"

There was a long silence as they all looked to Freya who stared at Pettigrew with the same wide-eyed frozen expression she'd somehow kept on since the moment her rat changed into the pathetic man in front of her and then, finally, she closed her eyes for a long moment, reeling everything in.

When her eyes opened, they were much darker than they were before and her shoulders slumped heavily as she stared at Pettigrew with an almost lazy expression of sadness.

"Thank you for that time you bit Goyle..." Harry startled at Freya's words but she was only staring at Pettigrew with almost unseeing eyes. "It's a nice memory. It helped me become friends with Harry."

"Yes! Yes, that means I was a good pet a good rat!" Pettigrew crawled towards Freya who's eyes focused again as her expression turned to slight revulsion. "You-you won't let them kill me, right?"

"If you made a better rat than a human, it's not much to boast about, Peter," said Black harshly.

"It's a nice memory, Pettigrew." Freya said plainly as paling with pain, she wretched her broken leg away from Peter's reach, "But that just means the one decent and useful thing you ever did is in the past now."

She leaned her head against the bedpost, finished with him, and Peter realizing this turned on his knees and staggering forward he seized the hem of Will's robes.

"Kind boy...smart boy...killing me...it's the wrong answer, right? You'll..you'll help me?"

Will yanked his robes out of Peters's hands and stared down at him with a pitying expression. But he did not say a word in Pettigrew's defense.

Pettigrew knelt, trembling uncontrollably, and turned his head slowly toward Harry. "Harry… Harry… you look just like your father… just like him…"

In a matter of seconds, Will was suddenly at Harry's side, a hand on his shoulder as he backed them both away from Pettigrew with an expression that matched the fury in Black's sudden roar.

"HOW DARE YOU SPEAK TO HARRY? HOW DARE YOU FACE HIM? HOW DARE YOU TALK ABOUT JAMES IN FRONT OF HIM?"

"Harry," whispered Pettigrew, shuffling toward 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 strode forward, seized Pettigrew's shoulders, and threw him backward onto the floor. He sat there, twitching with terror, staring up at them.

"You don't understand!" whined Pettigrew. "He would have killed me, Sirius!"

"THEN YOU SHOULD HAVE DIED!" roared Black. "DIED RATHER THAN BETRAY YOUR FRIENDS, AS WE WOULD HAVE DONE FOR YOU!"

Black and Lupin stood shoulder to shoulder, wands raised.

"You should have realized," said Lupin quietly, "if Voldemort didn't kill you, we would. Goodbye, Peter."

It seemed to go in slow motion then as Harry watched Lupin and Black raise their wands.

Is this, okay?

He felt Will's hand clutch his shoulder tightly as his friend closed his eyes and looked away.

He deserves to die...right?

His eyes shifted as the men in front of him had their wands almost up in the air and then he looked to Freya and his world stopped as he saw tears running down her face.

Tears not of pain from her injury but tears of sadness as she looked at the scene in front of them.

Because...because even if Scabbers had been worthless...Even he'd actually been a horrible rat and person...Even if he'd helped Voldemort kill Harry's parents...Even if now they knew what a horrible person her rat was...

Even if...

This pathetic man had been her rat. Had been her friend.

And that, despite everything, to a person with a heart like hers...

With a heart like his fathers...

Mattered.

So, knowing what he knew...would his father have let his friends become murderers? Murderers with the victim being an old friend, no matter what?

"AV-

"NO!" Harry yelled. He ran forward, placing himself in front Pettigrew, facing the wands. "You can't kill him," he said breathlessly. "You can't."

Because surely his father wouldn't have.