In the Hogwarts headmaster's office, Albus Dumbledore waited with a stern expression for his guest.
Before him stood Peter Pettigrew, a small man immobilized by layers of binding spells.
Dumbledore initially spoke to Peter with a casual tone, as if making small talk.
"…It's been a while, Peter. You've grown quite haggard. Your mother was terribly worried about you."
This was Dumbledore's sharpest sarcasm. Peter's mother had died years ago, believing him dead in battle against dark wizards. The words subtly accused Peter of shameful avoidance, delivered calmly but with no warmth in Dumbledore's gaze.
After hearing a few of Peter's feeble excuses, Dumbledore dissected their contradictions, probing why he'd hidden from the world for a decade.
"To protect Harry… James's son at Hogwarts!" Peter blurted amid his strained justifications.
Dumbledore's mind swirled with emotions, chief among them disbelief.
(What a deplorable man.)
Peter had framed Sirius Black, realized he couldn't defeat him, cut off his finger to fake his death, and fled, waiting for Harry's return to the wizarding world. Using Legilimency, Dumbledore saw no lies in Peter's heart—except the claim of protecting Harry.
The most effective lies blend truth. This man had deceived everyone, including himself, with such tactics.
The Order of the Phoenix had been outwitted by someone they deemed insignificant.
A hero thought dead, sneaking into Hogwarts as a rat? Unthinkable. Unnecessary.
Post-war, a simple owl to Dumbledore would've secured Peter a job as a guard.
Had Peter returned to the Order, confessing his survival, things might've been different.
But he couldn't. His actions betrayed a guilty conscience, proving his dark sins.
Peter was fleeing his own guilt.
Nodding at Peter's words, Dumbledore awaited his guest.
Death arrived for Peter in the form of visitors to the headmaster's office.
"Password?"
"Every Flavor Beans."
A low, grave voice answered—a man with no fond memories tied to that whimsical candy.
Two men entered. One, scarred and with a magical eye, aimed his wand at Peter the moment he stepped in.
Peter's incessant chatter halted, as if struck by Silencio.
"…I had my suspicions…"
The scarred man, nose marred by an incurable curse, one eye artificial, glared at Peter. His remaining eye fixed on him while the magical eye scanned the room for traps. His aura was that of a warrior more wounded in spirit than body. Both Peter and Dumbledore knew him: Alastor Moody, veteran Auror.
Calling the elite squad that hunted the worst dark wizards and creatures meant Dumbledore had no intention of sparing Peter.
"Been a while, eh, Peter? You've got a卑屈な look now," Moody said.
Peter let out a faint, voiceless scream, realizing his fate.
The other man wore a Muggle suit, calm and composed, unlike Moody's simmering suspicion. Kingsley Shacklebolt, a mid-level Auror with a promising career ahead.
"…Good to see you, Alastor. Makes this quicker. First time meeting your friend," Dumbledore said.
He knew Kingsley—Moody had praised the young talent—but feigned unfamiliarity to keep Peter on edge.
"My subordinate, Kingsley. But that's not the point," Moody said, his magical eye locked on Peter.
"We're getting every bit of information out of you, Peter."
Moody brandished his wand, a vial of Veritaserum in his hand.
An hour after administering the truth serum, Dumbledore had to calm Moody's rage.
"Gideon! Fabian! Even Edgar! And you sold out your best friends, the Potters!?"
Moody, a long-serving Auror, had captured countless dark wizards and creatures. What earned him respect was his restraint—capturing, not killing, despite personal cost. His body bore the scars of that choice.
But deeper wounds lingered.
During the war with Voldemort, human dignity was trampled. Killing wasn't enough; allies were turned by Imperius, information leaked, personalities shattered by torture. It was an affront to Moody's life.
He'd lost trust in others.
His pride as an Auror was broken by Imperiused comrades. Bureaucracy hindered cooperation with the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.
As an Order member, his last stand for justice was crushed when a respected Black family youth—Sirius—turned traitor.
Post-war, his commitment to arresting criminals was mocked as the Ministry pandered to pure-blood elites.
For ten years, this betrayed veteran lived in suspicion, shunned by others.
"I was scared! Of him! Of Sirius! I had to survive!" Peter pleaded.
"That's no excuse. A grown man, who chose to fight after graduation—what are you blabbering? The Muggles you killed for self-preservation had children, parents, spouses!" Moody snapped, wand steady, his killing intent unwavering.
"…To think this man betrayed the Potters…" Kingsley muttered.
"His mother worried for him. It might've driven his betrayal," Dumbledore said, masking his own anger and disappointment to stay rational.
Even a despised traitor was human, shaped by their past. Ignoring that risked repeating the same mistakes.
"Your anger is justified, Alastor. But please, grant Peter the rights of a man, not a rat. Let him speak at trial," Dumbledore said.
He knew Moody, despite his broken heart, strived for goodness.
(If I could restrain myself, a man like you surely can.)
But containing such grief and anger took time.
As Moody's fury persisted, Kingsley stepped in, casting spells to block Peter's magic and transformation, then stunning him with Stupefy.
"Killing one dark wizard changes nothing. Peter Pettigrew is under arrest for mass Muggle murder," Kingsley said.
"Keep anti-transformation measures on him. If he turns rat again, we'll never find him," Moody warned.
Dumbledore nodded, adding, "I know, but age makes me worry unnecessarily." Kingsley agreed with a nod.
"…Among dark wizards, Peter's the most troublesome. If he could use the Killing Curse, I'd shudder," Kingsley said.
Dumbledore nodded deeply. Peter was scorned as weak, never seen as special by Dumbledore, only as James's friend.
That perception stemmed from Peter's lack of selfless acts.
(My failure was not seeing Peter as a Death Eater.)
Dumbledore blamed himself.
James wasn't careless enough to befriend a coward, Sirius wasn't cruel enough to befriend a nobody, Remus's complexities wouldn't allow a talentless friend, and Peter himself deserved better evaluation.
"Dark wizards succumb to their heart's weakness, thriving on it. The weakest are often the most dangerous. Transport and restraint require utmost caution," Dumbledore said.
Peter would go to Azkaban, hopefully freeing an innocent wizard in exchange.
"No need to tell me. We're done here. Sorry for the trouble, Dumbledore. Let's go, Kingsley," Moody said, finally containing his anger, turning to leave.
Dumbledore called after him.
"I'll write to Fudge. The students' owls will reach the Daily Prophet, and tomorrow's article will report a dark wizard's capture. I'll tell reporters this was my failure as an administrator, minimizing backlash against Fudge."
When Peter faked his death, Cornelius Fudge, then head of Magical Law Enforcement, now Minister, wrongly arrested Sirius. This revelation would spark media scrutiny and public criticism of the Ministry's incompetence. Dumbledore planned to take the blame as the Order's leader.
That way, he could influence Fudge, hopefully steering him toward the wizarding world's good in crises, not pure-blood elites.
"…Not like you, Dumbledore, to sacrifice your honor and take the blame," Moody said, his sarcasm biting, rooted in their shared history.
Dumbledore accepted it.
"Not blame—responsibility. Besides," he added with a deep breath, "the truth must be public to clear his name."
With that, Moody and Kingsley took Peter to the holding cells.