"So his 'death' was nothing more than a carefully planned deception? The goal was simply to draw out the real traitor.. Peter Pettigrew?"
Hermione asked, gesturing toward the gaunt Sirius Black standing by the fireplace.
"Exactly."
Harry lifted his head as well, his gaze complicated as it rested on the haggard man whose eyes were filled with pain, hope, and an almost pleading humility.
The shock was overwhelming, leaving Harry's thoughts in turmoil as countless emotions tangled together.
Someone else had betrayed his parents, and this man, imprisoned for twelve years… had he been wronged all along?
Just then, Headmaster Dumbledore and the other professors hurried into the office.
Professor Snape swept his gaze over everyone present, pausing briefly on Black, his disgust nearly tangible.
He asked bluntly, "What did you call us here for, Sagres?"
"Quite simple," Sagres replied, raising the Marauder's Map in his hand for all to see. "I found this."
Remus Lupin and Black both raised their eyebrows the instant they saw the parchment, then exchanged a complex glance. They recognised the old object at once.
Sagres spread the Marauder's Map fully open before them.
He tapped it lightly with his wand, and the map immediately came to life, revealing the full layout of Hogwarts and countless moving names.
"This magical item can display the location and true name of everyone inside the castle," Sagres said calmly. "More importantly, it cannot be fooled by an ordinary Disillusionment Charm or by an Animagus form."
The professors all stepped closer, curiously examining the magical map in Sagres's hand.
"You mean," Professor McGonagall said, her voice tight, "we can use this to find Peter Pettigrew?"
"We've already found him," Sagres replied calmly.
He extended his wand and pointed to a tiny ink dot moving slowly within the area marked as the Gryffindor Tower common room.
Beside that dot, a name that made everyone's pupils contract was written with cruel clarity:
Peter Pettigrew
The air seemed to freeze.
…
In the warm Gryffindor Tower common room, a fat grey rat was laboriously squeezing itself out from a narrow gap beneath a sofa.
It—or rather, he—Peter Pettigrew had just finished enjoying a meal of breadcrumbs stolen from the kitchens and was now letting out a satisfied little burp.
"Safe… finally safe…"
Peter's wretched heart thumped with triumph in his chest.
Black was dead.
Killed by that terrifying Greengrass himself.
Hogwarts had returned to peace, and his days of fear and hiding were finally over.
Just a few days of safety and stolen treats had already restored much of the fat he had lost, to the point that squeezing out from beneath the sofa moments earlier had taken considerable effort.
"When those brats come back from enjoying themselves in Hogsmeade, I'll pretend to be a 'lost' and 'lucky' recovered rat."
Peter calculated, a cunning glint flashing in his beady eyes.
"Ron, that foolish boy, will be surprised and delighted, give me double the treats… I'll keep being Scabbers, a pet rat in the home of a Ministry of Magic official. What a perfect cover… waiting for my master to return…"
He shook the dust from his fur and, on what he believed were nimble little legs, prepared to scurry back to Ron's dormitory to find a comfortable corner to sleep.
But just as he turned—Ahhh...
The blood in his body seemed to freeze solid.
His tiny rat eyes flew open in terror, so wide they seemed ready to burst.
At the entrance to the common room, a crowd had silently filled the doorway at some point unknown to him.
Like the arrival of his worst nightmare.
Sagres stood at the very front, his deep, cold grey eyes fixed quietly upon him.
Behind him were Dumbledore, McGonagall, Snape, Flitwick, Sprout, Remus Lupin…
Every professor he had always avoided at all costs, along with Harry, Ron, Hermione, the Weasley twins, and… the "dead" Sirius Black.
They all stared down at his wretched rat form in utter silence.
Peter's heart hammered wildly, nearly bursting out of his tiny chest.
Exposed?!
No. Impossible.
He was just a rat. A perfectly ordinary rat.
Forcing down the terror that almost made him lose control, he relied on instinct alone. His bloated body jerked into motion, and like a truly panicked rat, he let out a series of frantic squeaks.
His four short legs scrambled desperately as he lunged toward Ron—his only lifeline in that moment.
"Squeak! Squeak!"
He screeched in the most pitiful sounds a rat could make, his beady eyes forcing out tears of terror as he threw himself at Ron's feet.
But he did not get even a step closer.
Sagres raised his wand and pointed it at him. An irresistible force seized Peter's fat rat body at once.
"No—!!!"
The shrill cry that rang out was no longer a rat's squeal, but a human scream.
Under the cold stares of everyone present, the grey-black rat's body began to twist violently, swelling and warping.
Bones cracked with a nauseating, grinding sound, and fur vanished like a retreating tide.
Within seconds, a short, pudgy man with thinning, greasy hair collapsed onto the warm common room carpet like a sack of mud.
Peter Pettigrew.
The man who had been "dead" for many years.
He was no longer a rat.
He had reverted to that despicable traitor once more.
Peter lay sprawled on the floor, his flabby body trembling uncontrollably.
Yet after the initial despair, like plunging into an icy abyss, his instinct for survival began to grow wildly, twisting through him like a poisonous vine.
He still had a chance.
If they could believe Sirius Black, then why couldn't they believe him?
A crack had already opened in his mind for a lie. He had deceived these people for more than ten years; there was no reason he couldn't deceive them again now.
He was still hurriedly weaving his lies when someone spoke.
"Hello, Peter. Long time no see."
Remus Lupin was the first to speak, but there was no warmth or joy of reunion in his voice.
"Re… Remus…" Peter Pettigrew's voice came out thin and shrill, his eyes darting instinctively toward the door. "My friend… my old friend…"
"Yes, old friend," Remus Lupin replied, nodding slightly. "We've heard a few things about you. Would you care to hear them?"
"Remus," Peter said urgently, beads of sweat breaking out across his pale face, "you won't believe him, will you…? Remus, Sirius can't be trusted. He wants to kill me, Remus…"
"No one is going to kill you until we clear a few things up," Remus said evenly.
"He will! He has Dark magic we can't even imagine!" Peter shrieked. "Otherwise, how could he have escaped Azkaban? I bet the one whose name must not be spoken taught him a few tricks!"
"Hahaha!" Black laughed, but there was no humour in it at all. "Lord Voldemort? Taught me a few tricks?"
Peter flinched at the name.
"What? Afraid to hear your old master's name?"
Black sneered. "Understandable, Peter. His followers aren't very fond of you, are they? If they knew you were still alive… well, you know what would happen."
________
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