46. The Servant of Lord Voldemort
Hermione screamed. Black jumped to his feet. Harry reeled back like he’d been hit with an electric shock.
Hope stumbled in surprise, before her face hardened at the sight of the hook-nosed Potions Master standing in the doorway.
“I found this at the base of the Whomping Willow,” Snape said, tossing the Invisibility Cloak aside. His wand never wavered, aimed directly at Lupin’s chest. “Very useful, Potter. I thank you…”
He was slightly out of breath, but his face was gleaming with suppressed triumph. “You’re wondering, perhaps, how I knew you were here?” His eyes glittered. “I’ve just been to your office, Lupin. You forgot your potion tonight, so I brought it up myself. Lucky for me I did. Lying on your desk was a certain map. One look told me everything. I saw you running down this passage and disappearing.”
“Severus—” Lupin started.
But Snape cut him off like he hadn’t spoken at all.
“I’ve told the Headmaster over and over—you’ve been sneaking Black into the castle. And now I have proof. Not even I imagined you’d be stupid enough to use this old place as your hideout.”
“You’re making a mistake,” Lupin said quickly, his voice urgent. “You haven’t heard everything—Sirius isn’t here to hurt Harry—”
“Two more for Azkaban tonight,” Snape murmured, eyes shining with fanatical glee. “I wonder how Dumbledore will take it… He really believed you were harmless, Lupin. A tame werewolf…”
Hope clenched her fists, shaking with fury. How dare he? How dare he suggest her father belonged in Azkaban.
“You fool,” Lupin said, low and steady. “Is a schoolboy grudge worth sending an innocent man back to Azkaban?”
BANG!
Thin, snake-like cords exploded from Snape’s wand, coiling around Lupin’s mouth, wrists, and ankles. He crashed to the floor, helpless.
“Dad!” Hope cried, starting forward.
Snape whipped toward her, wand raised and eyes blazing. “Take one more step, Miss Lupin, and I’ll see to it that you’re expelled for your part in this.”
With a roar of rage, Black lunged at him, but Snape pointed his wand between Sirius’s eyes.
“Give me a reason,” he whispered. “Go on. Give me a reason, and I will.”
Sirius froze. The hatred between them was so thick it practically crackled in the air.
Harry stood rooted, uncertain and overwhelmed. His eyes flicked between Ron, Hermione, and Hope. Ron looked bewildered, still wrestling with the frantic Scabbers. Hope was frozen in place, glancing at her dad with wide, worried eyes. Hermione took a shaky step forward.
“Professor Snape—it—it wouldn’t hurt to hear what they’ve got to say, w-would it?” she said, barely above a whisper.
Snape didn’t even look at her.
“Miss Granger, you’re already facing suspension,” he snapped. “You, Potter, and Weasley—out of bounds, consorting with a convicted murderer and a werewolf. For once in your life, keep your mouth shut.”
Hope’s expression twisted, as if being a werewolf and being a murderer were somehow equal offenses.
“But if—if there’s been a mistake—” Hermione tried.
“KEEP QUIET, YOU STUPID GIRL!” Snape exploded, his face twisted with something unhinged. Sparks shot from his wand, still aimed at Sirius’s face. Hermione backed off, her face pale.
“Vengeance is sweet,” Snape muttered, eyes locked on Black. “I’ve dreamed of being the one to catch you…”
“You’re dreaming again, Severus,” Sirius growled. “As long as the boy brings his rat up to the castle—” he jerked his chin at Ron “—I’ll go quietly.”
“To the castle?” Snape purred. “No need to go that far. Once we’re out of the Willow, I’ll summon the Dementors. They’ll be very pleased to see you, Black. Might even give you a little kiss.”
The last bit of color drained from Sirius’s face.
“You—you’ve got to listen,” he croaked. “The rat—look at the rat—”
Hope stared at Snape, and for the first time, she felt a chill of real fear. There was something wild in his eyes, something that said he wasn’t going to listen, not to reason, not to anyone.
“Come on, all of you,” Snape snapped. He clicked his fingers, and the cords binding Lupin snaked toward him like obedient pets. “I’ll drag the werewolf. Maybe the Dementors will have a kiss for him too—”
Hope’s hand darted down. She grabbed her wand that laid on her feet, her grip so tight her knuckles turned white.
Harry without thinking had crossed the room in three fast strides and stood in front of the door, blocking Snape’s path.
“Move, Potter,” Snape snarled. “You’re already in deep enough. If I hadn’t been here to save your skin—”
“Professor Lupin could’ve killed me a hundred times this year,” Harry said firmly. “I’ve been alone with him loads, during lessons. If he was helping Black, why didn’t he just do it then?”
“Don’t expect me to understand how a werewolf thinks,” Snape hissed. “Now get out of the way.”
“YOU’RE PATHETIC!” Harry roared. “JUST BECAUSE THEY MADE A FOOL OF YOU AT SCHOOL YOU WON’T EVEN LISTEN—”
“ENOUGH! I WON’T BE SPOKEN TO LIKE THIS!” Snape shrieked, losing control. “Like father, like son! I saved your miserable life, and this is how you thank me? You should be down on your knees! You’d have been better off if he had killed you! At least then you’d have died just like your father—too arrogant to see the truth about Black! NOW MOVE! MOVE, POTTER!”
Harry didn’t move.
He made up his mind in an instant. Before Snape could take another step, Harry’s wand was up.
“Expelliarmus!”
His voice rang out—followed by two more.
The blast was deafening. The door rattled on its hinges. Snape flew backward, hit the wall with a sickening crack, and slid to the floor. Blood trickled from beneath his dark hair. He was out cold.
Harry’s eyes darted around.
Hope, Ron, and Hermione were all standing with their wands raised. Snape’s wand arced through the air and landed on the bed beside Crookshanks.
“You shouldn’t have done that,” Sirius muttered, looking at Harry. “You should’ve left him to me…”
Harry didn’t answer. He couldn’t. He wasn’t even sure he’d made the right choice.
“We attacked a teacher… we attacked a teacher…” Hermione whispered, staring at Snape’s crumpled form. “We’re going to be in so much trouble…”
Lupin was trying to sit up. Sirius crouched beside him and untied the ropes. Lupin rose slowly, rubbing his wrists. His gaze swept over the four students.
"Thank you," he murmured, giving Hope a small, reassuring smile—as if to say it would be all right.
“I’m still not saying I believe you,” Harry said sharply.
“Then it’s time we offered you some proof,” Sirius replied. “You. Boy. Hand over Peter. Now.”
Ron clutched Scabbers tighter. “Come off it. You broke out of Azkaban… for Scabbers? I mean…” He glanced desperately at the others. “Even if Pettigrew could turn into a rat—there are millions of rats. How would you even know which one he was if you were locked up all that time?”
“You know, Sirius,” Lupin said thoughtfully, “that’s a fair question. How did you know where to find him?”
Sirius reached into his robes and pulled out a crumpled scrap of paper. He smoothed it out and held it up.
It was the photograph of Ron and his family from the Daily Prophet, taken the summer before. And there, perched on Ron’s shoulder, was Scabbers.
“How did you get this?” Lupin asked, stunned.
“Fudge,” Sirius said simply. “When he visited Azkaban last year. He gave me his paper. And there was Peter, plain as day, on the front page. I recognized him immediately. I’d seen him transform too many times not to.”
He looked at Harry now. “The caption said this boy was going back to Hogwarts… to where you were.”
Lupin’s voice was soft. “My God…” He looked from Scabbers to the photo, and back again. “His front paw…”
“What about it?” Ron asked, still clutching the rat.
“He’s missing a toe,” Sirius said.
“Of course,” Lupin breathed. “So simple. So brilliant. He cut it off himself, didn’t he?”
“Right before he transformed,” Sirius confirmed. “When I caught up with him, he started yelling that I’d betrayed James and Lily. Then he blew the street apart with the wand behind his back. Killed a dozen people. Disappeared down into the sewer with the other rats.”
“You’ve heard the story, haven’t you, Ron?” Lupin asked. “The biggest piece of Peter they found was a finger.”
“Scabbers probably fought with another rat or something!” Ron snapped. “He’s been in our family for years—”
“Twelve, to be exact,” Lupin said. “Didn’t it ever strike you as odd that he was living so long?”
“We—we took care of him!” Ron insisted.
Lupin glanced at the pitiful creature trembling in Ron’s hands. “Doesn’t look so good now, does he? I’d bet he’s been losing weight ever since he heard Sirius had escaped.”
“He’s scared of that cat!” Ron snapped, pointing at Crookshanks, who was still calmly purring on the bed.
But Hope suddenly frowned. That didn’t add up. Scabbers had started acting weird before Crookshanks even came into the picture—since Ron came back from Egypt. Since Sirius had escaped…
“This cat isn’t mad,” Sirius said hoarsely. He reached out and gently scratched Crookshanks behind the ears. “He’s the smartest of his kind I’ve ever met. He recognized Peter right away. And when he met me, he knew I wasn’t just a dog. It took time, but I got through to him. He’s been helping me ever since.”
“What do you mean?” Hermione asked softly.
“He tried to bring Peter to me, but he couldn’t. So he stole the passwords into Gryffindor Tower. From a boy’s bedside table, I think.”
Hope’s head was spinning. It was all too much. Too strange. And yet…
“But Peter figured out something was going on and ran,” Sirius went on. “The cat—Crookshanks, right?—told me he left blood on the sheets. Probably bit himself. Worked once before, after all…”
“And why did he fake his death?” Harry interrupted angrily. “Because he knew you were about to kill him. Just like you killed my parents!”
"No," Lupin interrupted quietly. "Harry—"
"And now you’ve come to finish him off!" Harry snapped, rounding on Black.
"Yes, I have," Sirius replied darkly, his eyes fixed with a venomous glare on the rat writhing in Ron’s hands.
"Then I should’ve let Snape take you!" Harry shouted, chest heaving.
"Harry!" Lupin stepped forward quickly, urgency in his voice. "Don’t you see? All this time, we thought Sirius betrayed your parents, and Peter tracked him down—but it was the other way around. Peter betrayed your mother and father. Sirius tracked Peter down—"
"THAT’S NOT TRUE!" Harry roared. "HE WAS THEIR SECRET KEEPER! HE SAID SO BEFORE YOU SHOWED UP—HE SAID HE KILLED THEM!"
His wand was pointed straight at Black, who didn’t flinch. Instead, Sirius shook his head slowly, and something in his hollow face cracked. His eyes, sunken and haunted, gleamed with unbearable guilt.
"Harry..." His voice broke as he spoke. "I as good as killed them."
Everyone froze.
"I persuaded Lily and James to switch to Peter at the last minute. I told them it was safer if he was the Secret Keeper, not me..." He swallowed hard, eyes glistening. "I should’ve died before betraying them to that coward. That night, I went to check on Peter, make sure he was safe. But when I got there—he was gone. No sign of a struggle. Nothing. It didn’t sit right with me. I knew something was wrong."
He turned away, shoulders shaking.
"I raced to your parents’ house... and when I saw it—destroyed—when I saw them..." He choked, a raw sound ripping through his throat. "I knew what Peter had done. What I had let happen."
The room hung in a stunned silence.
Then Lupin straightened, his voice suddenly sharper, more authoritative than Harry had ever heard it. "Enough. There’s one way to prove this. Ron—give me the rat."
"What are you going to do with him?" Ron asked, gripping Scabbers tighter.
"We’ll force him to show himself," Lupin said. "If he’s just a rat, it won’t hurt him."
Ron hesitated, his knuckles white around the rat's shaking form. At last, he extended Scabbers to Lupin, who took him gently but firmly. The rat immediately began squealing, twisting in Lupin’s grip, beady eyes wide with panic.
"Ready?" Lupin asked, looking at Sirius.
Black had already seized Snape’s wand. His eyes were burning, his breath shallow, as he moved beside Lupin.
"Together," Sirius murmured.
Lupin nodded. "On the count of three. One... two... THREE!"
Twin flashes of blue-white light erupted from their wands. Scabbers froze mid-air, twitching wildly, then dropped to the floor. A second flash—blinding—and then—
A man took shape.
It was grotesque. Limbs twisted into being, hair sprouted unevenly. Where Scabbers had been, a short, sickly man now stood, hunched and trembling. His skin looked sallow and grimy, stretched tight over a body that had wasted away. Sparse, colorless hair clung to a large bald patch. A rat-like quality clung to him, from the shape of his nose to the darting, watery eyes that flicked toward the door.
Crookshanks hissed and snarled from the bed, fur bristling.
"Well, hello, Peter," Lupin said with an eerie calm. "Long time, no see."
"S–Sirius... R–Remus..." Pettigrew stammered.
Hope froze.
Everything inside her turned to ice.
She recognized that voice—thin, wheedling, soaked in fear. It was the voice that haunted her nightmares, the voice she always heard when the dementors came. Her lungs locked up, like all the air had vanished from the room. That was him.
That was the man who killed her mother.
And she had known him for years.
She’d pet him. Snuck bits of food for him when Ron wasn’t looking. Protected him.
She had defended him from Crookshanks. Laughed when he scurried into Ron’s robes. She held him.
Her heart stuttered.
She had held him.
Her mother’s murderer.
She felt bile rise in her throat.
He had been right there, all this time
Her blood ran cold, yet her body flushed hot with rage. Her fists clenched at her sides, nails digging into her palms. The cold in her chest spread outward, pinning her in place like frost. She couldn’t move.
"My friends..." Pettigrew looked around desperately. "My old friends..."
Black’s wand shot up, but Lupin caught his wrist just in time, giving him a sharp warning glance before turning back to Pettigrew.
"We’ve been having a little chat, Peter," he said lightly. "About what happened the night Lily and James died. You might’ve missed some of it, squeaking around like vermin."
"Remus," Pettigrew gasped, his voice cracking as sweat gathered on his forehead. "You don’t believe him, do you? He tried to kill me—Remus, he’s mad—"
"So we’ve heard," Lupin replied, cold now. "But I’ve got a few questions for you. If you’d be so kind—"
"He’s going to kill me again!" Pettigrew shrieked, jabbing his mangled hand toward Sirius. "He killed Lily and James and now he’s after me too—Remus, help me!"
Black’s face looked skeletal, lips drawn tight, his fury palpable.
"No one’s killing anyone—yet," Lupin said stiffly. "Not until we sort this out."
"Sorted out?" Pettigrew’s voice cracked as he glanced wildly around the room, eyes flitting to the boarded windows and then the door. "I knew he’d come for me! I’ve been waiting for this—twelve years!"
"You knew Sirius would break out of Azkaban?" Lupin asked, voice heavy with disbelief. "When no one ever has?"
"He’s got powers! Dark powers!" Pettigrew screeched. "He must’ve learned from You-Know-Who himself!"
Sirius let out a hollow laugh that filled the room like a storm.
"Voldemort teach me tricks?" he sneered.
Pettigrew flinched.
"What’s the matter? Still scared to hear your master’s name?" Sirius asked, voice low and dangerous. "You should be. His followers aren’t too pleased with you these days, are they?"
"I don’t—what are you—Sirius, please—"
"You haven’t been hiding from me," Sirius growled. "You’ve been hiding from them. I heard enough in Azkaban. They think the double-crosser double-crossed them. Voldemort went to the Potters because of you. And he fell because of that. They’re still out there, Peter. Waiting. Watching. If they find out you’re alive..."
"I don’t know what you’re talking about!" Pettigrew shrieked, almost breathless.
Hope’s heart thundered in her chest. Every word slammed into her like a physical blow.
Lies. Excuses. Cowardice.
She understood Harry’s rage now—the kind of fury that shook you to your bones. She wanted to hex him, punch him, scream. But her limbs wouldn’t move. The cold inside her had frozen her in place.
The rage was boiling now, so hot it felt like it could burn through her skin. She didn’t realize she was trembling until Harry looked over, eyes widening.
He’d never seen her like this.
Her face had gone pale. Tears streamed silently down her cheeks, but her expression was carved in something sharper—horror, disbelief, fury.
Then her lips moved.
"It was him," she whispered, barely audible.
Harry’s stomach dropped. He stared at her, then at Pettigrew, then back again—and the pieces locked into place. Everything. The story Hope told him about the man who killed her mother. How he had never been caught. The voice in her nightmares. Everything Sirius and Proffesor Lupin had said it was all making sense. It had always been him. Peter Pettigrew hadn’t just taken his parents.
He had taken Hope’s mother, too.
"He killed her," Harry said, his voice deadly quiet.
Sirius and Lupin both looked sharply at him.
"Pettigrew," Harry snapped, pointing. "He killed Hope’s mum."
Sirius turned, fury reignited in his eyes. Lupin went still, lips parting slightly, eyes wide with dawning horror.
"How dare you," Sirius whispered, voice shaking. "How dare you. Were James and Lily not enough for you?!"
"S–Sirius—it’s not true—I—I was with the Weasleys—I’d never—"
"Liar!" Hope finally burst, stepping forward. Her whole body shook with rage. "It was you—I heard you! She figured you out—she knew you were a traitor!"
Pettigrew turned to Lupin, folding his hands in a pathetic gesture of pleading. "Remus—old friend—you have to believe me! I didn’t—I wouldn’t—Arabella was my friend—"
Lupin still hadn’t moved. He stared at nothing, the weight of it all sinking in. His voice, when he finally spoke, was barely audible.
“She went to the Weasleys...” His voice cracked. “She took Hope to the Burrow. And she saw you.”
He nodded slowly to himself, ignoring Peter’s sobs.
His voice broke, “You knew it was a full moon. You knew I wouldn’t be there. You went to the cottage... to silence her. Before she could tell anyone else.”
He turned his eyes on Pettigrew—cold, unblinking, filled with a fury Hope had never seen in her father before.
"You killed my wife," he whispered.
Pettigrew shook his head, blubbering.
"You always did weasel your way around people stronger than you," Sirius said, disgust thick in his voice. "You liked powerful friends—me, Remus, James. You needed them. But you were always just a coward."
Pettigrew wiped his face again, gasping. "I never—I wouldn’t—I—"
"Lily and James only made you Secret Keeper because I suggested it," Sirius hissed, stepping forward. "I thought it’d throw Voldemort off. Thought he’d come for me. I never imagined he’d look twice at someone like you."
Pettigrew was muttering now, shaking his head—“Far-fetched... lunacy...”—but Hope wasn’t listening. She was watching his face. Watching the way his eyes flicked, always, to the door.
“Er—Mr. Black—Sirius?” Hermione asked quietly, her voice soft and uncertain.
Sirius flinched at the sound. His head jerked up, eyes locking onto her as though the polite tone was something foreign—something he hadn’t heard in years.
“If you don’t mind me asking… how—how did you get out of Azkaban? If you didn’t use Dark Magic?”
“Thank you!” Pettigrew burst out, nodding rapidly. “Exactly! Precisely what I—”
A sharp look from Lupin cut him off mid-gasp.
Black’s frown deepened, but not at Hermione. It was thoughtful, not irritated. He took a breath.
“I don’t know how I did it,” he said slowly. “I think… the only reason I didn’t go mad was because I knew I was innocent. That wasn’t a happy thought—so the Dementors couldn’t take it from me. But it kept me sane. It reminded me who I am.”
He paused, voice rough.
“Knowing who I was helped me keep my powers. So when it all got… too much… I could change. I’d transform in my cell. Into a dog. Dementors can’t see, you know. They feel their way toward people by emotions. And mine… mine were less human. Simpler. They didn’t understand. Thought I was just losing my mind like the rest.”
He swallowed hard.
“I was weak. So weak. And I had no wand, no hope of driving them off… but then I saw Peter. In that photo. I realized he was at Hogwarts. With Harry. Perfectly placed, if he caught even a whisper that the Dark Lord might rise again...”
Pettigrew stared at him, silently mouthing something, as if entranced.
“...ready to strike the moment he had enough support. To hand Harry over. And if he gave them Harry—well, who would question his loyalty to Voldemort? He’d be welcomed back with open arms.”
His voice dropped.
“So I had to act. I was the only one who knew he was still alive.”
Harry and Hope shared a glance, the same memory flashing through their minds—what Mr. Weasley had whispered to Mrs. Weasley.
Harry and Hope shared a glance, both remembering what Mr. Weasley had said… ‘The guards say he’s been talking in his sleep... always the same words... “He’s at Hogwarts.’”
“It was like someone lit a fire in my head,” Sirius murmured. “The Dementors couldn’t snuff it out. It wasn’t happiness—it was obsession. But it gave me strength. Focus. So one night, when they brought food, I slipped past them. As a dog.”
His voice trembled.
“They couldn’t sense me properly. I was thin—so thin I could squeeze through the bars. I swam back to the mainland. Made my way north. Snuck onto the grounds.”
He gave a half-smile.
“I’ve been living in the Forest. Except when I come to watch Quidditch, of course. You fly like your father, Harry. And Hope—” his gaze softened as it moved to her, “—you were incredible. I was happily surprised. Remus and Bella never had much interest in Quidditch, you see…”
He met Harry’s eyes and didn’t look away.
“Believe me,” he croaked. “I never betrayed James and Lily. I would’ve died before I betrayed them.”
Harry nodded. He knew it was true.
“No!”
Pettigrew dropped to his knees like a puppet with cut strings. He crawled forward, hands clasped together as if in prayer.
“Sirius—it’s me! Peter—your friend—you wouldn’t—”
Black lashed out with his foot. Pettigrew flinched and scuttled back.
“There’s enough filth on my robes without you touching them,” Sirius growled.
“Remus!” Pettigrew squeaked, lurching toward him instead. “You don’t believe this, do you? You know how much I cared for Bella—”
“Don’t call her that,” Hope spat, lunging forward. Harry and Hermione held her back.
“You killed her. You don’t get to call her that.”
Pettigrew whimpered and turned desperately to Lupin.
“Wouldn’t Sirius have told you they changed the plan?”
“Not if he thought I was the spy,” Lupin replied, He looked at Peter with a sickened twist of his mouth, all former friendship gone. “I assume that’s why you didn’t tell me, Sirius?”
“Forgive me, Remus,” Sirius said quietly, eyes sincere.
“Not at all, Padfoot, old friend,” Lupin murmured, voice heavy. He was rolling up his sleeves. “And will you forgive me for thinking it was you?”
“Of course,” Sirius said, a ghost of a grin crossing his face. He rolled up his own sleeves.
“Shall we kill him together?”
“Yes,” Lupin said grimly. “I think so.”
“You wouldn’t… you won’t…” Pettigrew whimpered. He scuttled toward Ron instead.
“Ron… haven’t I been a good friend? A good pet? You won’t let them kill me, will you?”
Ron stared at him with pure revulsion.
“I let you sleep in my bed!”
“Kind boy… kind master…” Pettigrew grovelled, crawling closer. “You won’t let them… I was your rat… a good pet…”
“If you made a better rat than a person, that’s nothing to be proud of,” Sirius snapped.
Ron yanked his broken leg away with a wince. Pettigrew turned, staggering on his knees toward Hermione.
“Sweet girl… clever girl… you won’t let them—please help me—”
Hermione backed away, horrified, stepping away from his grasp.
Then he turned to Hope.
“Dear girl… you look just like Bella… she was so kind…”
Hope’s breath hitched. She shook her head in horror, and Harry moved in front of her without thinking, shielding her from Pettigrew’s gaze.
“DON’T YOU DARE,” Lupin bellowed. “DON’T YOU DARE TALK TO HOPE ABOUT HER MOTHER WHEN YOU TOOK HER AWAY!”
“Harry,” Pettigrew whispered, crawling forward with trembling hands outstretched. “James wouldn’t have wanted me dead. He would’ve understood. He would’ve shown mercy—”
“HOW DARE YOU SPEAK TO HIM?” Sirius roared. “HOW DARE YOU FACE HIM? TALK ABOUT JAMES IN FRONT OF HIM?”
“Please…” Pettigrew sobbed. “Please, friends… spare me…”
Black and Lupin surged forward, grabbed Pettigrew by the shoulders, and hurled him backward onto the floor. He sat twitching, shaking like a leaf.
“You sold them to Voldemort,” Sirius said, voice cracking. “Do you deny it?”
Pettigrew collapsed into tears. It was horrible to witness—like watching a grown man shrink into a sniveling child.
“Sirius, what could I have done? The Dark Lord… he has weapons you’ve never seen! I was scared! I was never brave like you, or Remus, or James—I didn’t mean for it to happen. He forced me—”
“DON’T LIE!” Sirius thundered. “YOU WERE PASSING INFORMATION TO HIM LONG BEFORE THEY DIED! YOU WERE HIS SPY!”
“He—he was everywhere!” Pettigrew gasped. “What good would it have done to say no?”
“What good?” Sirius barked, eyes blazing. “What good? Only innocent lives, Peter! You coward!”
“You don’t understand!” Pettigrew whined. “He would’ve killed me!”
“THEN YOU SHOULD HAVE DIED!” Sirius shouted. “DIED RATHER THAN BETRAY YOUR FRIENDS, AS WE WOULD HAVE DONE FOR YOU!”
Lupin stepped forward, his voice trembling with rage.
“And I suppose you had no choice with Arabella, either?”
“I never wanted to hurt her!” Pettigrew sobbed. “She used to visit the Weasleys—I always enjoyed it, seeing an old friend—But she saw me—recognized me—I panicked, Remus! I didn’t know what to do!”
“So you murdered her?” Lupin spat.
“I spared Hope! She was there—I showed mercy—I could’ve—”
“DON’T YOU DARE PRETEND YOU DID SOMETHING NOBLE!” Lupin screamed. “YOU KILLED YOUR FRIEND. YOU TOOK A MOTHER FROM HER FIVE-YEAR-OLD CHILD!”
He was trembling now, voice cracking from the weight of grief and rage. Sirius stood beside him, shoulder to shoulder, wand raised.
“You should’ve known,” Lupin whispered hoarsely. “If Voldemort didn’t kill you—we would. Goodbye, Peter.”
Hermione turned away, her hands covering her face as she tried to block out the scene. Ron flinched but couldn’t tear his eyes away, his gaze frozen on Pettigrew. Hope, on the other hand, stared directly at him, her anger barely contained—she wanted him to pay for what he’d done.
“NO!” Harry shouted. He ran between them, throwing out his arms. “You can’t kill him.”
Sirius and Lupin stared at him in disbelief.
“Harry, this vermin is why you have no parents,” Sirius growled. “Why Hope has no mother. He would’ve let you die without blinking. You heard him. He cared more about his own skin than your family.”
“I know,” Harry panted. “That’s why he belongs in Azkaban. Let the Dementors have him. But don’t kill him.”
“Harry!” Pettigrew gasped, flinging his arms around Harry’s knees. “Thank you! It’s more than I deserve—thank you—”
“Get off me.” Harry shoved him back in disgust. “I’m not doing this for you. I just don’t think my dad would’ve wanted his best friends to become killers—because of you.”
No one moved. No one spoke—except Pettigrew, who was wheezing behind Harry, clutching his chest.
Then, slowly, Sirius and Lupin lowered their wands.
"You and Hope should be the ones to decide," Sirius murmured.
Harry turned to Hope, searching her face. He wouldn't move forward unless they were together in this.
Hope didn’t answer right away.
She stared at the trembling man on the floor, her heart thudding painfully in her chest. Every inch of her screamed for justice. No—revenge.
She hated him.
She despised him.
He had destroyed her family. Torn holes in her life that nothing could ever fill. Everything about him made her sick—the way he cowered, the way he breathed, the way he still existed.
She wanted to see the life leave his eyes, just like she’d seen it drain from her mother’s. An eye for an eye. Her pain for his.
She hated herself for wanting it. The urge to end him burned in her chest, and for a terrifying moment, she wasn’t sure if would stop it. It would be so easy. One curse. One flick of Sirius and her Fathers wand’s. And it would be over. He'd be gone. He’d pay.
But that’s who he was. A killer. She didn’t want to be anything like him.
After a long, silent war within her own mind, she gave Harry a small, reluctant nod.
Harry turned back to Lupin and Sirius and gave one of his own.
"If that’s what you want…" Sirius exhaled, frustrated. "But think—think about what he’s done..."
"He can go to Azkaban," Harry said firmly. "If anyone deserves it, it’s him."
Pettigrew let out a wheezing sob, louder this time.
"Very well," Lupin said quietly. "Step aside, Harry."
Harry hesitated, his grip tightening on his wand.
"I’m just tying him up," Lupin added quickly. "That’s all. I swear."
Harry stepped aside.
Thin cords shot from Lupin’s wand. In seconds, Pettigrew was bound and gagged, writhing like a trapped worm on the floor.
"But if you transform, Peter..." Sirius warned, wand still raised. "We’ll kill you. Understood?"
He looked at Harry, then at Hope.
Hope's glare burned into Pettigrew as she gave a cold nod, just enough for him to see. Harry mirrored her, his face like stone.
"Right," Lupin said briskly, as if needing to break the tension. "Ron, I’m no Madam Pomfrey, but I’ll do what I can for that leg until we get you to the hospital wing."
He knelt beside Ron, muttered, "Ferula," and conjured bandages that wrapped around Ron’s leg, securing it in a splint.
Ron winced, testing the weight, and gave a small, surprised nod.
"That’s better. Thanks."
Hermione looked toward Snape, still sprawled on the floor.
"What about Professor Snape?" she asked quietly.
"There’s nothing seriously wrong with him," Lupin said, crouching down to check his pulse. "You were just a little… overenthusiastic. He’s out cold. Er—probably best if we don’t wake him until we’re safely back inside the castle. We can take him like this..."
He flicked his wand. "Mobilicorpus."
Like a grotesque puppet, Snape’s body rose as if pulled up by invisible strings, head lolling, limbs dangling a few inches off the ground.
Lupin retrieved the Invisibility Cloak and slipped it into his pocket.
"And two of us should be chained to him," Sirius muttered, nudging Pettigrew with his foot. "Just in case."
"I’ll do it," Lupin offered.
"And me," Ron said sharply, limping forward, eyes hard. His face was pale, but his voice burned with fury. He looked at Pettigrew like the betrayal had been personal. Maybe it was.
With a flick of his wand, Sirius conjured heavy iron manacles. A moment later, Pettigrew was hauled upright again, his left arm shackled to Lupin’s right, his right chained to Ron’s left.
Ron’s face was set in stone. There was no mistaking it—he’d taken Scabbers’ real identity as a deep, personal offense.
Crookshanks, who had been watching from the bed, leapt down silently and padded ahead, tail held high like a banner.