"There's no need to be so nervous, Remus," Maverick said with a faint smile, noting how tense the man looked. "I just want to ask a couple of questions on a certain matter... nothing too heavy."
Despite the worn, patchy robes he still wore, Maverick could see that Lupin's complexion had improved considerably since two weeks ago. At the very least, he no longer looked like someone unsure of where his next meal would come from.
Taking out a cup and a steaming jar of tea from seemingly nowhere, Maverick poured the man a drink and passed it over. "So, how is life as a professor treating you?"
Though he suspected there was more behind the offer than simple hospitality, Lupin still gave a polite nod and accepted the cup.
"It's better than I expected," he said after a sip, feeling the tea settle his nerves. "Teaching a room full of lively eleven-year-olds is... more interesting than I imagined."
Maverick chuckled softly. "I know, right? It's a strange feeling indeed..."
Pleasantries out of the way, Maverick didn't keep him hanging any longer. Lupin looked calm enough, but Maverick could tell there was a mess of feelings underneath—nervousness, fear, a bit of admiration—all tangled up. It made sense. The fear was understandable, the nerves likely tied to his particular condition, and the admiration… well, that was easy to place too.
"Right then... I won't keep you in suspense, Professor," he said matter-of-factly. "I asked you here to hear your thoughts on the murder of the Potters—and more specifically, your take on Sirius Black and Peter Pettigrew."
He paused briefly, then added in a gentler tone, "I know this is sudden... and probably not something easy to recall, considering how close you all were... but even so, I'd really appreciate your cooperation."
Lupin looked like he had a thousand things to say—or ask—and that was understandable. Maverick had been quite forward, after all, so he said no more and gave the man a moment to process.
First came the expected 'why', followed by a few more questions—Lupin clearly needed some convincing. Maverick answered them patiently, mixing in a few half-truths where needed, until the man finally gave a slow nod and agreed to talk.
Half an hour later, as Maverick sat and listened quietly, he found that Lupin's story matched Sirius's in most ways. But unlike Sirius, he hadn't witnessed the end. All he had were secondhand accounts, rumors, and the Ministry's word.
James was gone—betrayed by someone close. Peter too—killed, supposedly, by that same traitor. And all fingers pointed to Sirius Black. Yet Lupin never got the chance to face him… to ask if it was really true.
"I just… don't understand why he chose to break out now of all times," Lupin finished with a melancholic remark, "I don't even know what to think of my… former friend anymore."
Tapping his finger against the desk, Maverick wondered if he should really bring this man into the formula. That was the whole reason he had called Lupin in and asked about the Potters in the first place—to get a read on his character. To see if he could be trusted… and maybe brought onboard too.
From what he had seen, Lupin was actually a pretty solid wizard. Maverick had been quietly observing his classes—especially the sixth-years and the NEWT students—and Lupin handled them well. Really well.
After a short pause, Maverick leaned back in his chair… then just asked, plain and straightforwardly, "do you want to see him?"
Lupin, head bowed as he stared into the empty cup cradled in both hands, let out a dry chuckle. He couldn't even count how many times he had gone to the Ministry, asking to see the imprisoned man just once. But every time, he had been denied. Brushed off. Treated like he was nobody.
"If it was before he escaped, you could've used your influence to get me into Azkaban... but now... what difference does it make?"
Fair point. Maverick didn't say that out loud, of course. Instead, he checked the time. Then, glancing back at the dejected man still staring into his empty cup, he stood up, walked around the table, and simply said,
"Come with me."
Lupin raised his head and gave him a puzzled look.
"Where?"
"To see Black," Maverick said, stopping by the fireplace and motioning for him to come over.
Lupin's mouth fell half open, and a rush of questions flooded his mind. For a moment, he didn't know what to make of that statement, until Maverick clarified—
"You can think of it as me having captured him..."
"Captured?"
Moments later, the fireplace flared to life in a burst of vibrant green, and the two men vanished from the office.
---
Half an hour later, in a quiet corner of London, inside the house where Sirius was currently staying—
Two old friends who hadn't seen each other in years were finally having the long-overdue conversation they both needed. When Lupin first laid eyes on Sirius, his instinct had been to hex him on the spot—but somehow, he held himself back.
At first, it got loud—shouting, swearing, years of pent-up frustration spilling out. But eventually, the volume dropped, and it sounded like they were actually talking now. Maverick had left the two of them in a separate room to sort things out, while he and Ali waited in the living room.
In the meantime, he checked with Ali about Sirius's behavior over the last couple of weeks—how cooperative he had been—and also confirmed whether both he and Ali had indeed seen Harry on the first of September this month.
It turned out to be true, and just as Maverick had guessed, the man had simply wanted to see his godson one last time before school began. Maverick didn't ask Ali any more questions regarding the matter and just left it at that.
More time passed, and soon an hour had gone by, yet the two Marauders still hadn't finished their talk. Then, as a thought crossed his mind, Maverick took out his phone and gave Jameson Greengrass a call, informing him that he would be visiting shortly.
Once Lupin and Sirius were done with their reconciliation—or whatever it was—Maverick planned to take them to see Pettigrew tonight. There was no way... he just thought it would be better to let them get somethings off their chests if he wanted them to truly cooperate.
Another half hour passed before the two men finally emerged from the room. Maverick couldn't help but raise a brow at the dark bruise forming around Sirius Black's left eye.
"Don't ask..." Sirius raised a hand before anyone could say anything.
Lupin approached from behind and stopped beside the sofa where Maverick sat. There was no hesitation in his eyes as he looked at Maverick, and said directly what had been weighing on his mind.
"I would like to see peter Pettigrew, Master Caesar."
"What a coincidence..." Maverick murmured with a faint smile. He appreciated Lupin's composed demeanor—the man was remarkably good at keeping his emotions in check. "I was thinking the same thing just a moment ago."
"Wait, what? Caesar, are you serious?"
Sirius became visibly excited—almost crazed—at the thought of finally meeting the rat, and blurted out, unable to contain himself.
Maverick paid no mind to the flaring mutt and opened a portal directly to the Greengrass manor.
Before stepping through, Maverick gave Sirius a long, squinting look. The man's eyes were already bloodshot, and that half-insane look Maverick had seen when he first captured him was starting to resurface.
Still, Maverick decided to give him a chance—to see if he could keep himself in check. At worst, Sirius might try to kill Pettigrew, and Maverick could intervene in time.
However, after that, Black would be completely ruled out of Maverick's future plans. He didn't need a ticking time bomb.
Even Ali shot him a disappointed look, seeing how easily Sirius lost control.
---
Greengrass Manor.
Flickering torchlight cast long, wavering shadows, revealing cracks and patches of moss clinging stubbornly to the ancient stones.
Lord Greengrass, followed by Maverick, Sirius, Remus, and Ali, descended a narrow stone staircase that spiraled downward. The air grew colder and damper with every step, carrying the faint scent of mildew and rust, until the stairwell finally ended at a heavy iron door.
Beyond the door lay a small, cramped dungeon chamber. In its center stood a sturdy iron cage, bars thick and cold, enclosing a hunched figure chained tightly to the wall behind him.
Peter Pettigrew looked no different than the last time Maverick had seen him. His pale, twitchy face still carried that same rat-like look, and his watery eyes darted around like he expected something to leap at him any second.
His entire demeanor screamed coward—and to be fair, that's exactly what he was. Chained up and trembling like a cornered rat, it was a fitting look for someone whose Animagus form was one.
Hearing the sound of footsteps, Pettigrew turned his head toward the noise. His beady eyes landed on the familiar figure—yes, the same man who had been feeding him like he was some some farm animal these past few weeks.
He still had no idea how he ended up in this mess. One moment he was relaxing in what he had long considered his home—the benevolent Weasleys'—and the next, he woke up locked inside a cursed cage that not even all his frantic, pathetic efforts could break. He had tried everything. Nothing worked.
He had tried talking to the man he believed had captured him—bribed, begged, and lied through his teeth, offering things he didn't have and couldn't possibly deliver—but the man was practically a mute.
At least he recognized him. Jameson Greengrass. Stubborn old pure-blood Lord. Not once had he spoken a word to him. Just came in, left him a bit of half-rotten food to keep him alive, then walked away. Every day. Like clockwork.
But today… something felt different to him.
Merlin help me... am I going to die here? he had wondered more than once.
More footsteps.
Wait. That's not just him—two more? Pettigrew squinted in the dim torchlight, peering past the bars of his cage.
He didn't see Maverick or Ali, as Maverick didn't want his involvement known during the trial. He had already told Greengrass, Sirius, and Ali to simply pretend that he and Ali weren't there.
Those two figures flanking Lord Greengrass… why do they look so familiar...?
An ominous chill ran down Pettigrew's spine. His already sweat-slicked face grew even damper as realization crept in, each second a stab to the gut.
He gulped.
"Re… Remus…? … Si—Si—Sirius…?"
—————————
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