Chapter 167: Harry, I Am Your Uncle
At that moment, Harry and Ron were sitting together in a compartment, unsure of what to say to each other.
Just then, the door slid open—it was the twins.
"Hey Ron, listen—we're heading to the middle carriage. Lee Jordan's got a huge bag of spiders!"
Ron responded with a subdued, "Hi, Harry."
George looked over and added, "We haven't properly introduced ourselves. Fred and George Weasley. This here's Ron, our younger brother."
With that, the two stepped into the compartment, one sitting beside Ron and the other beside Harry.
"So, you're really Harry Potter?"
Phineas entered the compartment at that moment, drew his wand from his robes, and gave a subtle wave. The half-open window shut and locked with a soft click, and the door closed firmly behind him.
"Give me a moment, Harry. I'll explain everything shortly," Phineas said gently, offering him a small smile.
At the same time, Fred snatched the pet rat Scabbers from Ron and tossed him onto the table.
George raised his wand in sync, and the small table between the seats warped and twisted into chain-like tendrils that wrapped around the stunned rat, holding him tight.
Harry and Ron were completely taken aback.
"Wait! What are you doing to Scabbers?"
Phineas didn't even glance at Ron. Calmly, he said, "I'll get you a new pet later. How about an owl?"
As he spoke, several cutting spells flicked from his wand, streaking toward the restrained rat under the horrified gazes of Harry and Ron.
Phineas had thought this through. Killing Peter Pettigrew on the train would make it impossible to exonerate Sirius. But simply restraining him would be unreliable, especially with Ron around. So, the best way was to render Pettigrew powerless—alive, but incapable of escape.
Before either boy could react further, George and Fred had already restrained Scabbers securely.
The cutting spells—harmless in appearance—severed the rat's limbs with magical precision, causing no blood, but excruciating pain. The agony broke Pettigrew's concentration. Unable to maintain his Animagus form, he transformed back into his human shape: a pudgy man with greasy hair and rodent-like features—now limbless and sprawled across the magically altered table.
"Ha! Pettigrew, when you framed my brother, did you ever imagine you'd end up like this?"
Phineas stared down at him with cold mockery.
Peter Pettigrew was too overcome by pain and panic to respond.
"Stupefy."
With a flick, Phineas knocked Pettigrew unconscious, then snapped his fingers.
"Master!"
With a pop, Puff appeared beside him, holding a small enchanted box.
"Puff, take him inside and keep a close eye on him. He's going to be very important."
"Yes, Master," Puff nodded, levitated the unconscious Pettigrew into the box, then Disapparated with it.
"Alright," Phineas said, turning back to Harry and Ron. "You probably have a lot of questions. Since neither of you interfered, I'll do my best to answer."
He sat beside George, calm and composed.
"If there's anything you want to ask, go ahead."
"Um… sir?" Harry asked hesitantly, "Did you say… do you know me?"
Phineas smiled and nodded. "Of course, Harry. You might not understand how important you are to the wizarding world yet, but that's fine. You'll have time to get used to it."
He leaned forward a little. "But my connection to you is a bit more personal. I had an older brother—he and your father, James Potter, were as close as brothers. After you were born, he became your godfather."
Phineas paused.
"You can call me uncle, if you like. My name is Phineas Black—though people usually call me Phineas. And my older brother is Sirius Black."
"Sirius Black?!" Ron shouted.
"You mean that Sirius Black in Azkaban? But the Prophet said he betrayed the Potters—he's the reason they're gone!"
Before Phineas could respond, George cut in.
"Merlin's beard, Ron, we thought you were a little slow—but this? Weren't you paying attention to anything? You didn't even notice what just happened? Or when Phineas—called that rat's real name?"
Ron looked shaken. "Scabbers...?"
Phineas rolled his eyes. "You still think that thing was just a rat?"
Ron muttered in disbelief, "It must be some kind of spell… Scabbers has been with us for years—how could he not be a real mouse?"
Phineas gave a wry smile. "Eleven years, actually. George, Fred—honestly, isn't it a little strange that a rat's lived in your house for eleven years without anyone thinking twice?"
Ron still wasn't convinced. "Maybe we just took really good care of him?"
Phineas sighed and turned back to Harry.
"Anyway, Harry, I only know some of what happened back then. If you want the full story, you'll have to ask Sirius himself—once we get him out of Azkaban."