The scene opens on the grim, windswept island of Azkaban. A small boat, no bigger than a Muggle rowboat, arrives carrying a few Aurors and a truly pathetic, despairing wizard. This miserable fellow is none other than Peter Pettigrew, also known as Scabbers the rat. With Sirius Black's name finally cleared, it was only right that Pettigrew be sent to face the punishment he should have received a dozen years ago.
The Aurors unceremoniously toss him into a cell, the very one that once held Sirius, and leave without so much as a backward glance. Peter immediately curls into a ball, trying to make himself as small as possible. He's trying to hide, terrified that a Dementor will decide to pay him a visit—or worse, give him a kiss. He's a coward at heart, and even here, in the darkest of places, he clings to a sliver of hope. He knows he can escape. He knows because he saw how Sirius did it—as an Animagus.
The Ministry, in their infinite wisdom, seems to have overlooked this crucial detail. Perhaps they believe that a rat, unlike a dog, can't make it off the island. This, of course, is a rather foolish assumption, as the current Minister, Fudge, seems to be a walking example of. The Dementors, creatures of pure despair, don't have the wits to understand or prevent such an escape. They are blind to the subtle magic of an Animagus. Peter, thanks to his old friends from the Marauders, is a master of both Animagus and the Patronus Charm. All he needs is a wand.
Suddenly, a cackling voice breaks the silence. "Haha, look! The new fellow looks just like a pitiful little rat!" The laughter is wild, unhinged, and maddeningly close. It's the sound of a wizard driven mad by the grim conditions of Azkaban. Peter wisely ignores it, staying huddled in his corner. The other wizard soon loses interest, and the silence returns.
Peter's strategy is simple: wait. He's an expert at it. After all, he hid with the Weasleys for twelve years, a testament to his patience and sheer will. If only he had used that persistence for something good, he might have been a hero. But alas, there are no "what-ifs" in this life.
Time passes in this perpetually gray place, where day and night are indistinguishable. A month? A year? A week? It's impossible to tell. Then, another visitor arrives. A stern-faced, middle-aged wizard with neatly combed gray hair, cold eyes, and a thin mustache. The other prisoners call him Barty Crouch. He stops right in front of Peter's cell, stares at him for a moment without a word, and then moves on. That very night, a wand appears in Peter's cell.
### The Muggle Communication Device
Meanwhile, back at Hogwarts, the members of the Slytherin Disciplinary Team are having a meeting. Dudley is at the head, and he's just introduced a rather peculiar device.
"Dudley," Ron Weasley says, pointing to the strange creature on the table, which looks a bit like a snail eating a piece of corn. "I'm not saying I don't believe you, but this thing... you really think we can use it to communicate?"
The "thing" is a modified "Den Den Mushi," a "Transponder Snail," as some might call it. It's one of Dudley's Muggle-inspired inventions. The snail, annoyed at being called a "snot slug with a shell," spits at Ron, who dodges it.
"It's a Den Den Mushi!" Hermione Granger corrects him before Dudley can. "Ron, it's far stranger that wizards are still using owls to send messages! Did you know that Muggles have invented tools that let them talk to each other from thousands of miles away?" she says, a hint of frustration in her voice. "I'm not trying to be a snob about owls, but their communication is terribly slow."
"That's so cool!" Ron exclaims, "What's it called? My dad would love something like that."
"A telephone," answers Draco Malfoy, to everyone's surprise. The pure-blood wizard, who usually scoffs at all things Muggle, is now the one explaining.
He shrugs, looking rather nonchalant. "It's nothing special. The Malfoy family knows a few Muggle aristocrats. Malfoy Manor is registered with the Queen of England, and we even have a title." He continues, "It's not just the Weasleys; a lot of pure-blood families have these connections. They just don't talk about it." Draco is telling the truth, though the Malfoys have only recently taken an interest in Muggle technology, thanks to Dudley's influence.
"Malfoy, are you looking for trouble?" Ron asks, his patience wearing thin as Draco keeps getting his name wrong.
"Bring it on. I'll fight you with one hand," Draco retorts.
"That's enough," Dudley says, cutting them off. He places another Den Den Mushi in front of Ron. "Why don't you try it out for yourself? You and Draco each take one and go to separate rooms."
A few minutes later, Ron bursts back into the room, his face red with excitement. "Dudley, it actually works!" he shouts, holding the snail up triumphantly. "Not only did it have Malfoy's voice, it even copied his tone and expression! It's incredible!"
Draco walks in right behind him, equally amazed but trying to remain composed. "How did you do it?" Ron asks, "Is it a spell? Or Transfiguration?"
Dudley doesn't answer. He simply takes out a few more of the finished snails. "We can't produce these in large numbers just yet," he explains, "but each member of the Disciplinary Team can have one. Just remember to feed them regularly so they don't starve."
"When we need to talk," he adds, "we'll use the Den Den Mushi."