45. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs
It took a few seconds for the absurdity of the statement to sink in. Then Ron, wide-eyed and pale, said what they were all thinking.
“You’re both mental.”
“Ridiculous,” Hermione whispered, almost too quietly to hear.
“That doesn’t—what?” Hope blinked, completely thrown. “That doesn’t make sense.”
“Peter Pettigrew’s dead!” Harry shouted. “He killed him twelve years ago!”
He pointed accusingly at Black, who flinched slightly—his face twitching, mouth twisted with something wild.
“I meant to,” Sirius growled, yellowed teeth bared. “But little Peter got the better of me… not this time, though!”
Crookshanks was flung to the ground as Sirius lunged for Scabbers. Ron let out a strangled yell, crumpling under the weight of Black colliding with his already-injured leg.
“Sirius, no!” Lupin grabbed him, pulling him back roughly. “Wait! You can’t—just wait! They need to understand. We have to explain—”
“We can explain after,” Sirius snarled, struggling in Lupin’s grip. One hand clawed the air, desperate to reach the squealing rat in Ron’s grasp.
Hope's eyes darted between them, her brows furrowed. None of this was lining up. Her stomach twisted uncomfortably, her heartbeat loud in her ears.
“They’ve—got—a—right—to—know—everything!” Lupin panted, still wrestling Sirius back. “Ron’s been living with him! There are pieces I don’t even understand! And Harry—Harry deserves the truth, Sirius!”
Finally, Sirius stopped struggling. But his eyes never left Scabbers, who was still squirming violently in Ron’s bleeding hands.
“Fine,” he said flatly. “Tell them whatever you want. But make it fast, Remus. I’m ready to finish the job I was imprisoned for.”
“You’re nutters, both of you,” Ron said shakily, looking around like he expected someone to agree with him. “I’ve had enough of this. I’m going.”
He tried to stand, groaning in pain as he leaned on his good leg.
But Lupin raised his wand again—pointing it not at Ron, but at Scabbers.
“You’re going to hear me out, Ron,” he said calmly. “Just hold Peter tight and listen.”
“He’s not Peter! He’s Scabbers!” Ron bellowed, trying to shove the rat back into his pocket. But Scabbers fought back hard, scratching wildly. Ron lost his balance. Harry caught him just in time and eased him back onto the bed.
“Let’s just hear them out,” Hope said softly, glancing between the two men with cautious uncertainty.
“You can’t be serious,” Ron snapped at her, incredulously.
Harry let out a sigh, turning toward her with that same exasperated look, “I know you don’t want to believe your dad—”
“It has nothing to do with what I want to believe,” she said firmly, arms crossed tightly over her chest. That part was true. She didn’t believe her father wanted to hurt Harry—definitely not kill him—and she most certainly didn’t think he was evil. He had raised her her whole life to be good, to be kind. But it wasn’t just that.
Something deeper twisted in her gut.
If Sirius Black really had killed twelve Muggles and one of his closest friends—if he really was a devoted follower of You-Know-Who—why were they still alive? Her, Hermione, Ron… even Harry. Why not finish what Voldemort started the moment he saw them?
“Harry. I know my dad. Besides He’s known I've been friends with you for years,” Hope said, voice sharper now, “and he’s never once tried to hurt you. Isn’t it odd? If he wanted you gone, he could’ve invited you over when we were eleven or twelve and just… done it.”
Harry ran a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated. He glanced between her, Lupin, and Sirius.
“There were witnesses,” he said, turning to face the two men. “A whole street saw it happen. They said Sirius killed Peter and laughed about it. The explosion—everything.”
“They saw what they thought they saw,” Sirius spat, still watching Scabbers like a predator with prey in sight.
“Everyone thought Sirius killed Peter,” Lupin added, nodding slowly. “I believed it myself—until I saw the map tonight. Because the Marauder’s Map doesn’t lie. Peter’s alive. Ron’s holding him.”
Hope stared, trying to make sense of it all. Her thoughts whirled.
But—how? There was nothing left of Pettigrew. Just a finger. How could he still be alive?
She caught Harry’s eye. He looked shaken too. Confused. Scared. And yet… not convinced.
This had to be madness. Azkaban must’ve driven Sirius completely over the edge. That made sense. But her dad?
Then Hermione, voice trembling but trying to sound steady, broke the silence.
“But Professor Lupin… Scabbers can’t be Pettigrew. It just—it can’t be true. You know that.”
“Why not?” Lupin asked, his voice calm, almost like he was walking them through a Charms lesson.
“Because… because people would know if Peter Pettigrew had been an Animagus. We learned about them with Professor McGonagall. I looked them up for my homework—there’s a register. It lists every Animagus, their animal form, their markings, everything. And I checked—Pettigrew’s name isn’t on it. There’s only seven registered this century!”
Hope glanced at Hermione, momentarily impressed by the dedication… and then her dad laughed.
“Right again, Hermione,” he said, voice filled with something like admiration. “But the Ministry didn’t know. There were three of us at Hogwarts who became unregistered Animagi.”
“If you’re going to tell the story, do it already,” Sirius growled. “I’ve waited twelve years. I’m not waiting much longer.”
“Fine,” Lupin said, nodding. “But you’ll have to help me, Sirius. I only know how it started—”
A sudden loud creak cut him off.
The door behind them swung open.
All six of them turned to look.
Lupin crossed the room quickly and peered out into the hallway.
“…No one there.”
“This place is haunted,” Ron muttered, wide-eyed.
“It’s not,” Lupin said, frowning. “The Shrieking Shack was never haunted. The screams the villagers heard… they were me.”
Hope blinked. She stared at her dad, realization dawning slowly.
Of course. The full moons. He couldn’t stay in the dormitory during those.
Why hadn’t she thought of it before?
He brushed his greying hair out of his eyes, his expression distant now.
“That’s where all of this starts. With my becoming a werewolf. None of this could’ve happened if I hadn’t been bitten. And if I hadn’t been so foolish…”
There was a pause. Ron looked like he was about to say something, but Hermione shushed him. Her eyes were locked on Lupin.
“I was a child when it happened,” Lupin continued. “My parents tried everything, but back then… there was no cure. The potion Snape brews for me now—it’s new. It makes me safe, as long as I take it before the full moon. I stay in control. I become harmless.”
Hope swallowed hard. Her throat felt tight.
“Before that, though… every month, I lost myself completely. I was dangerous. Couldn’t be around anyone.”
He turned to Harry then, voice soft.
“I told you the Whomping Willow was planted the year I came to Hogwarts. That wasn’t a coincidence. Dumbledore had it put there because of me. This house, the tunnel—it was all built so I could transform safely. So I wouldn’t hurt anyone.”
The silence was heavy now. The only sound was the frantic squeaking of Scabbers.
“My transformations were… horrible. Painful. With no one else to bite, I turned on myself. The villagers heard the noise—my screams—and assumed the place was haunted. Dumbledore let the rumor grow. Even now, they still avoid it.”
He glanced around the room, something sorrowful in his gaze.
“But despite all of that… those years were the happiest of my life. For the first time, I had real friends. Sirius Black. Peter Pettigrew. And your father, Harry. James Potter.”
Hope looked down. Her chest ached.
She understood that kind of friendship. She’d felt the same way about Harry, Ron, and Hermione… though it felt like all of that might be slipping away now that they knew the truth.
“My friends noticed I disappeared every month,” Lupin went on. “I lied, told them my mother was sick. I was terrified they’d leave me if they found out the truth. But just like Hermione, they figured it out…”
"And they didn’t desert me at all. Instead, they did something for me that made my transformations not only bearable... but some of the best times of my life." Lupin paused, eyes distant. "They became Animagi."
"My dad too?" Harry asked, stunned, his voice lifting slightly in disbelief.
Lupin nodded. "Yes, indeed. It took them the better part of three years to work it out. Your father and Sirius were the cleverest students in the school—and it’s a good thing, too. The Animagus transformation can go terribly wrong. That’s why the Ministry keeps such a close watch on anyone attempting it. Peter needed all the help he could get from James and Sirius. But eventually, in our fifth year, they managed it. Each of them could transform into a different animal at will."
"But how did that help you?" Hermione asked, her brow furrowed, clearly trying to make sense of it.
"They couldn’t be with me as humans, so they kept me company as animals," Lupin explained, quieter now. "A werewolf is only a danger to people. They’d sneak out of the castle every month under James’s Invisibility Cloak. They transformed… Peter, being the smallest, could slip beneath the Willow’s branches and press the knot that freezes it. Then they’d come down the tunnel and be with me.
"With them there, I became less dangerous. My body was still wolfish… but my mind—" He hesitated, choosing the words carefully. "It was less so. Their presence calmed something in me."
"Get on with it, Remus," growled Black, his voice low and strained. He hadn’t taken his eyes off Scabbers, that hungry look still twisting his features.
"I’m getting there, Sirius..." Lupin exhaled slowly. "Once we could all transform, new possibilities opened up. We stopped staying inside the Shrieking Shack. We started roaming the school grounds... even the village, under the cover of night.
"Sirius and James turned into large animals—big enough to keep me in check. I doubt any students ever learned as much about the grounds or Hogsmeade as we did. That’s how we created the Marauder’s Map and signed it with our nicknames. Sirius is Padfoot. Peter is Wormtail. James was Prongs."
Hope tilted her head slightly, the nicknames flickering through her thoughts. There was something vaguely familiar about them—like a memory she couldn’t quite reach, sitting just beneath the surface.
"What kind of animal—?" Harry began, but Hermione cut across him sharply.
"That was still incredibly dangerous!" she burst out. "Running around in the dark with a werewolf? What if you’d gotten separated and bitten someone?"
"A thought that still haunts me," Lupin said heavily, the weight of guilt creeping into his voice. "There were close calls—many. We laughed about them afterwards, but at the time, we were young. Thoughtless. Caught up in our own brilliance.
"I did feel guilty sometimes... about betraying Dumbledore’s trust. He accepted me when no other Headmaster would have. And he had no idea I was breaking the very rules he put in place to protect others. He never knew I led three students into becoming Animagi, illegally.
"But every time we sat down to plan our next adventure... I forgot the guilt."
Lupin’s face darkened, his jaw tight. His voice dropped. "And I haven’t changed."
There was self-disgust behind his words now, so clear that even Hope’s stomach tightened with the weight of it.
"All year I’ve wrestled with myself, wondering if I should tell Dumbledore that Sirius is an Animagus. But I didn’t. Why? Because I was afraid. Telling him would’ve meant admitting I betrayed his trust back in school. Admitting I dragged others along with me.
"Dumbledore’s trust has meant everything to me. He gave me a chance as a boy. And again as an adult—he gave me a job when no one else would. Because of what I am, I’ve been shunned most of my life. I convinced myself Sirius was getting into the castle with Dark Magic learned from Voldemort... that being an Animagus had nothing to do with it.
"So in a way... Snape’s been right about me all along."
"Snape?" Black snapped, turning from Scabbers for the first time. His voice was sharp, suspicious. "What’s Snape got to do with any of this?"
"He’s here, Sirius," Lupin said quietly. "Teaching, actually." He looked toward Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Hope.
"Professor Snape was at school with us. He fought hard against my appointment to the Defense Against the Dark Arts job. He’s been warning Dumbledore all year not to trust me. And he has his reasons... Sirius played a trick on him, once. One that nearly got him killed. A trick that involved me—"
Black gave a short, bitter laugh.
"Served him right," he muttered. "Sneaking around, trying to catch us, hoping he could get us expelled..."
"Severus was obsessed with where I went every month," Lupin said, turning to the others. "We were in the same year, and we—well, we didn’t get along. He hated James. Probably jealous of his talent on the Quidditch pitch.
"One evening, he saw me crossing the grounds with Madam Pomfrey as she took me to the Whomping Willow. Sirius thought it would be... amusing to tell Snape that all he had to do was prod the knot on the tree’s trunk with a stick, and he’d be able to follow.
"Snape tried it. If he’d made it as far as the Shack, he’d have found a fully grown werewolf. But your father heard what Sirius had done. He went after Snape and pulled him back—risked his life to do it.
"Snape still caught a glimpse of me at the end of the tunnel. Dumbledore made him swear never to tell... but from that night on, he knew."
"So that’s why Snape hates you," Harry said slowly, eyes narrowing. "He thought you were in on the joke?"
"That’s right," came a cold voice from the shadows behind Lupin.
Severus Snape stepped forward, pulling off the Invisibility Cloak, his wand raised and pointed straight at Lupin.