The Rat Maze
Chapter Four: The Rat Maze
"...then you should have died...died rather than betray your friends, as we would have done for you!"
― J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban
There were many things Peter Pettigrew hated in this world, but Egypt had found its way to the top of his list. It was hot, the sand was itchy, and he didn't like it one bit.
Arthur Weasley had won some blasted award, one that involved the family having their picture taken in stereotypical Egyptian gear for the people back home to ooh and ahh at. It was supposed to be a "great honor" or something of the sort, but Peter didn't care. The Weasleys were as annoying as ever, but instead of being able to hide away under Ron's bed like usual, the rat had been forced to deal with their never ending bustle and chatter.
The one good thing about little Ginny Weasley's death was that Peter had some peace and quiet, at least for a time. But this little vacation had reinvigorated the family. While they certainly weren't their usual selves, they had grown quite obnoxious again, and the tight quarters and uncomfortable atmosphere didn't make matters better.
Upon their arrival, the once quiet Bill was now a never ending encyclopedia about this or that curse. All it took was the mere mention of these ancient muggle's traditions and Arthur was hooked. The twins were being childish, as usual, having used some spellwork to animate some sand castles and golems, much to the Egyptian warlocks' amusement. And Ron, well….
Even with the family's uplifted mood was one notable fact. Ronald Weasley was not uplifted in the slightest. The same boy that could never focus on one thing, that was usually bouncing from sibling to sibling and from broom to broom, had spent the past summer staring at walls and punching pillows. While the other members of the Weasley family had started to work through their grief, Ron had insisted on sulking all summer. It was all very disconcerting.
Something had happened down in those sewers when little Ginny died, Peter knew. Being a rat had its advantages, after all. There were rumors, ones Peter had heard in the Gryffindor common room, that Dumbledore had nearly caught the real perpetrator behind the Chamber of Secrets. But the wizarding world was content with pinning the crime on the now deceased Ginny Weasley, and with no proof of otherwise, that was what the ministry had concluded, as well.
Peter was just relieved that amid the accusations, Arthur Weasley hadn't lost his job, even if that same job forced the family to go on unwanted excursions such as this. Peter rather liked his life in the Burrow. He liked his anonymity, and being the plaything of Weasley child after Weasley child hadn't been such a terrible fate. After all, hadn't he been the Marauders' plaything, a lifetime ago?
But the disappearance of his best friend and the death of his sister had caused Ronald Weasley to both grow up and yet become more immature than ever. His sullen tantrums had affected his friendship with the Granger girl poorly at first, the Potter boy no longer able to serve as a mediator. But whatever happened in that chamber had bonded the two together again...even if Ron barely bothered with the girl's letters.
However, there was one letter that the boy had taken particular interest in that morning, a news clipping attached. Peter was almost excited to see the boy reading the Daily Prophet, doing something at least, until he saw what was on the cover. On the front page, was a frothing, head-shaking image of Sirius Black.
ESCAPE FROM AZKABAN.
Peter's little rodent heart froze, his whiskers quivering. For a moment he couldn't move, he couldn't even breathe. If he was able to whimper, he was sure he would have. Instead, he let out a little distressed squeak, hopping on Ron's shoulder.
"Oi! Scabbers!" Ron shifted his shoulders grumpily, trying to swipe Peter off. But Peter, quivering mess and all, remained, keeping his view of the newspaper. Granger had, in Hermione-like fashion, highlighted certain texts.
ESCAPE FROM AZKABAN.
"Sirius Black, possibly the most infamous prisoner ever to be held in Azkaban fortress, was found missing from his cell yesterday. "We are doing all we can to recapture Black," said the Minister for Magic, Cornelius Fudge, this morning, "and we beg the magical community to remain calm." Regardless, the magical community lives in fear of a massacre like that of twelve years ago, when Black murdered thirteen people with a single curse.
Black's mental health has reportedly been on the decline in recent years. In particular, he has been cited by prison guards for his obsession over Harry Potter's disappearance, muttering of urges to 'kill him' and absconding with stolen newspaper articles about the boy.
"He was my friend." Remus Lupin, a past friend of Black's has stated. "We all were. What happened is tragic, but he needs to be caught before he has the chance to hurt anyone else."
Lupin has recently been appointed as Hogwart's new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, a position that has remained empty since Gilderoy Lockheart's untimely death last spring.
Lupin refused any further comments.
It took every fiber of Peter's tiny little being to not fall off the boy's shoulder in a faint.
Sirius had escaped? And was alive? Well, nobody would believe him. They couldn't possibly believe him. After all, he looked half out of his mind in that mugshot. In fact, perhaps the escape was for the best, it just cemented Black's reputation as a deranged death eater.
And there was no possible way he could know where Peter was, was there?
"Maybe…." Ron put down the paper grumpily, a dazed look in his eyes. "Maybe Black will find 'im. Maybe he'll kill Quirrell and that other boy, and then Harry could get away."
Ron's optimism was pure Gryffindor, for sure. Pettigrew didn't bother hiding rolling his eyes. The boy had never noticed such human expressions before, he wouldn't now.
"I used to envy him, you know." Ron said suddenly, sinking his head in his arms. "Harry, I mean. He was rich, famous, everything I ever dreamed of. I just wanted to stand out, you know? Make Mum and Dad proud." Ron's grumpiness slipped into grief, the boy petting Peter's head instead of shoving him off like before. Peter sighed, uncomfortably aware that the boy was wanting some sort of comfort from him.
"But now that he's gone, I get it. And I don't want it. Being the hero just means the people you care about get hurt." he murmured glumly, shaking. "They should have listened. The professors should have listened. But none of them did! They didn't believe us when we said someone was after the stone, and they didn't believe Hermione about the loo. They were going to send bloody Lockheart, of all people! If they had believed us, then Harry wouldn't be missing, and Ginny wouldn't be...she wouldn't be…" the boy buried his face in his shoulder, sniffling.
"Do you think Harry's still alive, Scabbers?" The boy asked weakly. Peter squeaked in response.
No. He didn't believe Harry was alive.
But the boy took his squeak to mean the opposite.
"Yeah. I think so, too. I mean, if anyone could survive it, it'd be Harry, right? An' if Quirrell was going to kill him, why didn't he do it before? Mione's right. There's somethin' more to all of this. There's got to be. But then why…." The ginger-haired boy trailed off, running his hand through his hair, almost reminiscent of his friend. "...why not Ginny? Why let Harry live but kill her?"
Well, Quirrell certainly didn't break back into Hogwarts and become the heir to Slytherin, for one. Even Peter knew that. Whoever killed Ginny Weasley wasn't the same person who took little Harry. But who? From the way young Ron had been acting, the two children and their haphazard professor had met someone else down in the pipes. Someone who wasn't Ginny, wasn't Malfoy, and most certainly wasn't Quirrell. So the question remained. Who?
"RONALD WEASLEY."
The matriarch's voice rumbled from outside the tent, but what would have once elicited an immediate response only resulted in a glum sigh. Mrs. Weasley had, in fact, been calling Ron several times over the past few minutes, but the boy had been too wrapped up in the article to care.
But wisely, the boy rose, Peter still on his shoulder, and exited the tent flap.
"Comin'." The boy grumbled as he walked. The tent seemingly shrunk behind them, the circus-sized living space reduced to a tiny campsite. Peter hissed in annoyance. The sun was bright, and the extra heat it brought was scorching his bald nose.
A wooden table next to the tent had been set, sandwiches strewn all over the serving plates. Peter allowed his nose to wander. The scent of swiss, cheddar, and was that….gruyère? wafted in his direction, immediately making up for the unpleasant atmosphere. The twins were already munching on theirs, as well as a disgruntled Percy, who eyed his youngest brother in annoyance. Percy had always reminded Peter of what Sirius Black and Remus Lupin would be like if they were mixed into the same person. Smart, self-righteous, and arrogant.
"Why can't I eat inside?" Ron grumbled, grabbing a sandwich and looking at it in distaste. Peter stretched away from the boy's shoulder and towards the sandwich, eyeing the cheese hungrily as bits of the sandwich crumbled onto the boy's shirt.
"Because your father and the rest of your brothers will be here in a few minutes, and we need to appreciate our time with them." Molly determined cheerfully, as if repeating a tired mantra. Appreciate our time with what's left of this family, she means, Peter snickered to himself.
Ron resigned himself to picking at his food, even offering a bit to Peter, which he took greedily. In his gloom, Ron had barely remembered to feed himself, nevertheless his pet rat. Peter would even dare to say that he had lost a few pounds over the last year.
But Peter's luxury was not to last. A young witch ran as fast as her legs would take her over to them, bumping into the table as she did so. His cheese bits went flying.
"I….have….never...been so glad….to see red hair….Weasley's?" The girl wheezed, her own bright orange hair sticking to her neck in a sweat. She wasn't dressed for Egyptian weather, instead donning heavier, English robes.
Molly wasn't the least bit fazed, offering a motherly smile to the young woman. "Why, yes, I'm Molly. You are….?"
"Tonks." The girl panted, still struggling to breathe. "Nymphadora Tonks." She rubbed the back of her neck, her eyes glancing over the bunch. The twins wriggled their eyebrows, Percy stood at attention, and Ron was caught mid-bite, his cheeks nearly as puffed out as Peter's.
Tonks? Where did Peter know that name…
"I'm-uh-am an old classmate of Charlie and Bill's. There's something I'd like Bill to look at. I've been looking everywhere for him. Would you know where I could find 'im?"
Molly blinked, examining the woman more closely. The younger witch shifted uneasily as she stood, her eyes darting around nervously.
"Why, is everything alright?"
"Oh, yes, quite fine. I just knew he was into curse breaking nowadays, and was in a bit of a rather urgent bind. I'm a trainee at the auror academy, you see." The woman mentioned hurriedly, as if that explained everything.
"Well, the rest of the boys should be here in a bit. Would you like a sandwich while you wait?" The woman looked reluctant, still panting from her hurry, but nodded in resignation, plopping down to their table with the grace of a giraffe.
Peter huffed, jumping off of Ron's shoulder and running down the boy's trousers. The forgotten cheese bits were by his boots, and Peter had no shame after a decade of being a rodent in consuming them from the ground. There were a few grains of sand lining the cheddar, but it still otherwise perfectly good cheese.
"Thank you. The, uh, investigation I'm a part of is taking a bit longer than I thought. Never did have breakfast. Or lunch." Tonks remarked, inhaling a sandwich. From below, Peter felt a bit bitter, the grainy morsels already down his throat. Even newcomers had more rights to scraps than he did.
"And you think our Bill can help? His field is rather specialized, dear, unless…." The Weasley matriarch trailed off, a sudden crack in her usually jolly demeanor. A strange look flickered in her eyes, one that Peter had seen the woman suppress since the beginning of this sorry excuse of a vacation.
"It wouldn't have anything to do with Ginny, would it?" The rest of the table froze at the mother's words, casting wary glances towards the newcomer. Tonks blinked stupidly for a moment, before turning several shades of red.
"Oh, no ma'am. Nothing like that at all. Different case, just started last night actually, I'm sorry if I indicated otherwise-"
"No." Mrs. Weasley breathed easier, resuming her cleaning. "You indicated nothing of the sort, of course. It's just hard to take off that lens at times, is all. Well, the rest of the boys are expected back any minu-"
"Is it about Harry?" The smallest redhead demanded, his eyes sharp. Tonks turned to Ron, the previous shade of crimson draining from her face. Even from the ground, Peter found himself at attention. Her lack of answer, followed by her unintelligible attempt at one, was the only answer he needed.
Yes. Yes it was.
But before the woman could explain herself properly, a raucous laughter in the distance came to her rescue, a quick glance telling Peter that Bill, Charlie, and Mr. Weasley had returned. Their laughter paused, however, obviously confused by the tense scene they had stumbled into. To Peter's annoyance, the table rocked above him, the woman bumping into it as she jumped out of her seat.
"Wotcher, Charlie! Long time no see." The witch greeted, rather relieved.
"Tonks? What are you doing here?" Charlie blinked, looking around as if his family held the answers. But even the twins were speechless, eyeing the clumsy woman as she stood.
"Funny story, really, well, perhaps not so funny…" She trailed off, clearing her throat. "There's a strange case I'm on, and your brother is really the only person I could think of that might have seen something like this curse before. I hate to barge into your family time like this-"
"An egyptian curse?" Bill asked incredulously, intrigued as he was befuddled.
"An old curse." Tonks admitted, glancing uncertainly at the other family members. "I know it's all rather sudden, but if I could just steal an hour of your time, I could explain much more when we get there-"
"You didn't answer the ruddy question." Ron complained, his voice darker than a child's had any right to be. Molly began to admonish the boy, but Ron continued, seething each word in a fashion that would have made Snivellus proud. "Is-it-about-Harry?"
Peter didn't need another awkward silence to tell him that it was.
Had Sirius found the Potter boy, then? The timing of the newspaper article and the young witch's arrival was uncanny, and Peter found himself rather shaken by the whole affair. The Weasleys had once offered him a boring but anonymous life, a strange sort of way to live out the rest of his days while keeping his head down from an unwanted past. But Ginny, Harry, and now this….Peter didn't feel safe at all, even underneath the picnic table, surrounded by sand and cheese, with all of the tension above his head and out of sight.
The young witch, after a moment of indecision, ignored Ron, electing to go after her original target instead.
"I know-I know you don't know me very well, you were two years ahead of us, but Charlie will vouch for me, I'm sure. And it is rather important…..would you come? Please, Bill?" After yet another awkward moment, the oldest Weasley nodded, smiling apologetically to his family.
Outside of Ginny, Bill had always been the meekest in the family, something Peter had never quite understood. The young wizard dressed rather informally, including a long hairstyle Molly had scolded him for over the years. But despite being somewhat of a rebel in that regard, Bill had otherwise been the perfect child. He was the mediator when fights broke out among the younger siblings, the one who went out of his way to entertain his family the moment they had arrived to this dreadful place. As the oldest, he held a presence without having to say anything at all, and went along with whatever was best for the family without so much of a complaint.
So of course bloody Bill would go along with this bloody witch he barely even knew. Especially if the situation was mysterious and she was battling her eyelashes enough. Because that's what Bill always did. Gone along with whatever was best for the group.
How Bill had managed to do that without being crushed under others' heels, Peter didn't know. If anything, he loathed the older boy's ability to be both complacent and "cool". It was something that Peter had never been able to achieve. Peter had gone along with everything James Potter and Sirius Black had ever asked him to do, and they still abandoned him after graduation. And then they had the gall to be shocked when he finally turned around and did what he wanted for the first time in his life.
The young witch was as excited as Sirius had always been back then, nodding enthusiastically as she smiled.
"Splendid, absolutely splendid! I'm afraid I might be a bit too exhausted to apparate safely. Had to stay up all night on this case, you see. Do you mind if we floo?"
Peter knew the answer without even looking. It was the answer he had always given, as well.
"Sure, no probl-"
"I mind." a voice butted in, a still very angry Ronald Weasley crossing his arms. "If Harry's involved, I'm coming, too." The boy insisted with a pout.
"You are most certainly not!" Mrs. Weasley exclaimed, seeming to grow several inches taller. Peter winced, ducking uncessarily underneath the table. But his young master didn't seem intimidated in the slightest, as if experiencing a live howler was an everyday affair.
"It's auror business, and I'm under strict orders here, Mr. Weasley. I really can't say." The witch apologized sheepishly, glancing worriedly towards Bill. Bill nodded, and left with her hurriedly, no doubt intending to avoid a scene.
But Ronald Weasley always made a scene. He pushed back the table angrily-nearly ramming it into Peter as he did so-and stomped back to his tent, no doubt intending to remain cooped up again for the rest of the trip.
Peter sighed, watching with disinterest as the blown up witch deflated before his eyes. Molly had always been strong-willed, and she had always put on a good show. And while he certainly didn't want to get on her bad side, he knew something about her that her children didn't.
He knew how vulnerable, how child-like, and how utterly weak she had looked when she was making burial arrangements for her brothers, all those years ago. How quiet she had been when she watched them being lowered into the ground. And as much as she had wept for little Ginny-the look in her eyes had been different, then. An angry grief rather than a broken one.
Molly Weasley had been like Bill Weasley once, doing whatever was required of her without much of a fuss, and then life had changed her, and she had grown fiery because of it. Just as life had changed Peter.
Let the boy sulk. He wasn't Ron's keeper. He was just using the Weasleys for a simple life he was content to live. It wasn't quite as grand as a retirement to Spain or Italy, to be sure, but it was content, nonetheless. He-he wasn't-of course he wasn't-he was no longer the cowardly, snivelling sidekick Sirius Black had fatally believed him to be.
Peter hissed, feeling the dust around him scatter as wings flapped above him. He looked up, sighting a disgustingly familiar snowy owl flying away, a parchment clutched in her talons. That hadn't taken long, Peter mused, scowling at the bird. It was off to make its way to the Granger girl, no doubt, where it would be treated like a god. All the sweet meats and cheese a bird could ask for.
Peter pouted, rolling his eyes as he munched on a forgotten piece of bread. So what if Sirius came after him? Peter had always been smarter than the rest of them, even Lupin, always. They had just never believed in him enough to see it. If Peter kept his head down, Sirius couldn't possibly find him. Out of all the rats in Egypt, and out of all the rats in England, it would take a bloody miracle before Sirius showed up at his door.
"Well, that was rather dramatic." Fred snarked, taking a second sandwich.
"Oh, you should have seen him when our picture made it to the front page. Went ballistic. He should go into theatre, at this rate." Charlie joked half-heartedly, rubbing the back of his neck.
The front page? The family's picture had been in the Daily Prophet?
Oh, bugger it all.