Despite Severus Snape and his allies' carefully orchestrated newspapers and subtle public opinion campaigns, which successfully sowed doubt and distrust among most of the students aboard the ship toward the Ministry of Magic and the Hogwarts now controlled by Malfoy, not everyone could fully shake off the invisible pressure of official propaganda.
Floating high above in the Founders' Ark, though temporarily safe, an inescapable sense of precariousness lingered, a constant reminder of their rootless existence.
Above them stretched the vast starry sky; below, a roiling sea of clouds cut them off from the familiar earth, amplifying the unease in their hearts.
This unease was quietly festering in the hearts of those whose resolve was not strong enough.
And memories, at times, could blur.
Even though the students and staff aboard had personally witnessed Abraxas Malfoy's undisguised contempt for "Mudbloods" during his lessons at Hogwarts, his near-harsh punishments for Muggle-born students who broke rules, and his brutal treatment of house-elves—whom he regarded as worthless, beating and insulting them at will—time, combined with carefully curated newspaper photographs of Malfoy's "kindly" smile and repeated assurances of "safety" and "tolerance," seemed to wield a strange magic. It dulled painful memories, tempting some to entertain a faint, hopeful delusion: Perhaps going back wouldn't be so bad?
Thus, while most aboard the ship gradually transformed their worries and fears into a sense of belonging to the Founders' Ark and a shared resolve to stand together, a few began to waver.
Among them, the most restless and cowardly was Peter Pettigrew.
Over the past few days, Wormtail had been noticeably on edge.
He obsessively pored over a newspaper duplicated by a copying charm, his eyes repeatedly darting to the passages Snape had deliberately left intact—exaggerated promises of "guaranteed safety" and "welcoming the return of the wayward."
Those words were like hooks, relentlessly tugging at the deep-seated yearning for stability and normalcy buried in his heart.
Fear coiled around his heart like an icy serpent. The Death Eaters' brutal attacks, "Mr. Green's" blue fiendfyre that treated human life as disposable, and the ever-present danger that the ship might be exposed again—all of it kept him awake at night.
One bumpy afternoon, he could no longer contain himself.
Wormtail pulled the newspaper from his robes and approached James Potter, Sirius Black, and others, who were leaning idly against the ship's railing, catching the breeze. They, too, were stifled by the ship's restrictions and their growing sense of alienation from those around them.
"Guys," he spread the newspaper out, pointing to the "promises" written there, "have you read this? The Ministry… they say if we go back, they'll guarantee safety for all students, no matter their blood status."
"James, Sirius," Wormtail looked at them urgently, "you're pure-bloods. They wouldn't do anything to you. I'm thinking of leaving. Will you come with me? I'd feel safer with you there!"
"It's too dangerous here. Who knows when we'll be attacked again?" He lowered his voice, his face etched with genuine fear. "The paper says this is just a 'childish mistake'—we won't be punished for it."
"Going home safely is better than drifting up here in the sky, right? And that Mr. Green—he's terrifying, doesn't care about lives at all. Staying near him feels even more dangerous…"
James and Sirius exchanged a glance.
They had boarded the ship largely because Professor McGonagall had stressed the gravity of the situation and their need to protect their weaker friend, Peter.
Now, with Wormtail so desperate to leave and the "guarantees" in the newspaper sounding somewhat reasonable—especially for pure-blood wizards like themselves—their resolve began to waver.
As the ship's confines grew increasingly stifling and Mr. Green's ruthless methods left them shaken, the balance in their hearts tipped further.
"What Wormtail's saying," James began hesitantly, breaking the silence, "makes some sense. We're pure-bloods. If we go back, maybe we'll just get a scolding, a few days of detention? Or, at worst, a fine? That's better than floating up here, constantly worrying about an attack, isn't it?" He was trying to convince himself.
Sirius leaned against the railing, his dark hair tousled by the wind. Rebellious by nature and frustrated by the ship's rules, he was restless, but his thoughts ran deeper than James's, a trace of worry creasing his brow.
"Go back… will it really be safe?" he said. "Who's running the Ministry now? The Dark Lord's crew aren't exactly the forgiving type."
"Professor McGonagall only planned to bring Muggle-born students onto the ship. Doesn't that tell you something?" Peter seized the moment, making his words sound more convincing. "It means pure-bloods or half-bloods staying at Hogwarts are safe, in their eyes."
"Snape and the others only came along to help or for other reasons. If we go back, we're just returning to 'normal'!"
At that moment, Remus Lupin, who had been quietly reading a book nearby, looked up. He had overheard their conversation, his brow slightly furrowed.
James caught Remus's gaze and immediately asked, "Remus, you're a half-blood. You don't have to worry about your safety either. Why not come with us?"
"I'm a werewolf," Remus interrupted calmly.
"Werewolf…" Peter faltered, then quickly added, "That's fine! The Ministry has a registry for werewolves. If you're registered, you'll be safe! The Ministry has to follow its own rules, right?"
Remus looked at the almost naive hope in Peter's eyes, then at the longing for "freedom" and "home" on James and Sirius's faces. Slowly, heavily, he shook his head.
"I don't know, Peter," he said, his voice tinged with concern. "I don't know what the Ministry's 'rules' mean for a werewolf still in school. Tighter surveillance? Discrimination? Or something worse?" He didn't elaborate, but his distrust and worry were unmistakable.
The three inseparable friends, minus Remus, stood by the swaying railing, gripped by a powerful urge to return to a "normal" life or a safe haven.
James and Sirius were persuaded—by Peter or by their own restlessness and nostalgia for the past.
Remus watched them in silence. When Peter, James, and Sirius decided to seek Professor McGonagall to request their departure, he closed his book and followed quietly behind.
Professor McGonagall had just emerged from her Transfiguration classroom, her face still weary from teaching, when she encountered the four, each wearing a different expression.
Peter's face betrayed barely contained excitement and a hint of nervousness. James and Sirius radiated a sense of "finally escaping" mixed with slight apprehension about the unknown. Remus trailed behind, his gaze deep and unreadable.
Seeing their demeanor, McGonagall likely guessed their intentions. Her expression turned gravely serious.
"Potter, Black, Pettigrew, Lupin," her eyes swept over them. "What do you want with me?"
"Professor McGonagall," Peter summoned his courage, stepping forward with a trembling voice, "we… we're of age. We want to apply to leave the Founders' Ark."
"You, especially you, Peter—are you certain about this?" McGonagall asked, her voice heavy with concern. "It's extremely dangerous out there. The Ministry is forcing all wizards to register their blood status and undergo 'screenings.'"
"Potter and Black, with your family backgrounds, might be spared," her gaze shifted to Peter, filled with deep worry, "but you, Mr. Pettigrew… leaving here could put you in real danger."
"Professor, we've thought it through!" Peter repeated urgently, waving the newspaper. "The paper says they'll guarantee safety! And… and we miss home! We really miss home!"
"Yeah, Professor," James nodded vigorously, adding, "Floating up here all day isn't a solution. If we go back and stay quietly at home or school, we won't be in danger. Plus, Sirius and I can protect Peter. He's our friend."
McGonagall looked at their young, stubborn faces, a wave of helplessness washing over her.
She sighed deeply, her gaze moving past them to Remus, who had remained silent.
"Remus, your friends are leaving," she said. "What are your thoughts?"
The corridor fell quiet. Peter, James, and Sirius turned to look at Remus.
Remus was silent for a moment.
His gaze swept over Peter's eager, pleading eyes, then to James and Sirius, their faces filled with anticipation and a hint of urgency. Finally, his eyes drifted to the small window in the ship's railing, staring out at the boundless sky beyond.
He took a deep breath, as if suppressing all his hesitation and complex emotions, and spoke in a quiet but firm voice:
"Professor, I choose to stay."
"Remus!" James and Sirius exclaimed simultaneously, their faces full of disbelief.
"Why?" James pressed, his voice tinged with confusion and a hint of hurt. "Come back with us! We're… the Marauders… we said we'd stick together!"
Remus looked at James, a gentle smile on his face.
"No, James. If I go back, I won't be able to help you. And…" His voice lowered, carrying a trace of self-mockery, "I don't know if Mr. Malfoy would still allow a werewolf to stay at Hogwarts."
"Thank you for your kindness, but I choose to stay here."
James and Sirius opened their mouths to argue, but seeing the resolve and hidden pain in Remus's eyes, they knew their friend of seven years had made up his mind.
A wave of disappointment and confusion engulfed them. James even turned away in frustration. Peter's face, meanwhile, showed only the excitement and anticipation of leaving.
McGonagall watched the scene, her heart heavy with mixed emotions.
"Very well," she nodded gravely. "I approve your request."
"But you must keep the method, time, and location of your departure strictly confidential. You cannot tell anyone else on the ship. Understood?"
Peter nodded eagerly, and James and Sirius followed suit.
"Pack your essential belongings in secret," McGonagall ordered. "Do not take anything that could reveal information about the ship. Tomorrow night, at 2:30 a.m., either I or Professor Flitwick will escort you. Remember, absolute secrecy."
Remus gave them a silent nod, saying nothing more, and turned toward the student lounge.
Peter, James, and Sirius hurried off to their dormitory, their emotions complex as they prepared to pack.
Back in the staff room, McGonagall shared the news of Peter, James, and Sirius's decision to leave with the others.
Severus Snape was seated at a desk, studying notes on human transmutation alchemy (handwritten by Gellert Grindelwald). At the news, he didn't even look up, merely letting out a cold snort.
"Good riddance," he said. "Especially Peter Pettigrew. His wavering heart makes him a liability on this ship. If he's swayed by the Ministry's propaganda or crushed by fear, who knows what he might do?"
"Let him leave with his pure-blood friends. From now on, our paths diverge, and that's for the best."
"However," Snape set down his notes and looked at McGonagall, "for safety's sake, I suggest you personally modify or erase their memories of 'Mr. Green' before they leave."
"That way, they won't leak critical information under questioning and bring us greater trouble."
Though McGonagall felt uneasy about using the Obliviate charm, she recognized the practicality and necessity of Snape's concerns.
"I agree," she nodded heavily. "I'll handle it when I see them off…"
Just then, the office door burst open, and Emmeline Vance, a member of the Order of the Phoenix, rushed in, panting.
She held a broomstick, clearly having just returned from outside, and in her other hand clutched a crumpled copy of the latest Daily Prophet.
"Professor, everyone, we have news!" Emmeline's voice was hoarse with excitement and exertion. She slammed the newspaper onto the table, pointing to an inconspicuous article at the bottom. "I know where Frank and Alice are. Look here!"
"…Frank and Alice Longbottom, suspected of participating in the Hogwarts rebellion and attacking Aurors, were swiftly tried yesterday. With conclusive evidence, they have been sentenced to life imprisonment and immediately transferred to Azkaban."
"Azkaban!" Moody, who had been sitting silently in the shadowed corner, stood up, leaning on his cane.
His remaining normal eye blazed with terrifying fury, while his alchemical glass eye—an experimental piece crafted by Grindelwald over the past few days, still imperfect—gleamed with a cold, eerie light. When he grew angry, the glass eye spun wildly backward, revealing a black pupil edged with fine metal threads, giving him the appearance of a demon from the depths of hell.
"Those bastards!" Moody slammed his cane onto the floor, the sound reverberating heavily. "We have to rescue them!"
"We need to act quickly," McGonagall's face darkened. "Every day they spend there, under the Dementors' torment, brings them closer to madness."
The room erupted in agreement, faces filled with anger and determination.
"A rescue is necessary, but," Snape interjected, the image of the kind, friendly couple flashing through his mind. Though he shared their concern, he couldn't help but voice his doubts, "we need to ensure this isn't a trap. What if they leaked this news deliberately to lure us into a snare?"
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