CHAPTER NINETEEN
THE SERVANT OF LORD
VOLDEMORT
Hermione screamed. Black leapt to his feet. Harry felt as
though he'd received a huge electric shock.
“I found this at the base of the
Whomping Willow,” said Snape, throwing the cloak aside, careful to keep this
wand pointing directly at Lupin's chest. “Very useful, Potter, I thank
you...”
Snape was slightly breathless, but his face was full of suppressed
triumph. “You're wondering, perhaps, how I knew you were here?” he said, his
eyes glittering. “I've just been to your office, Lupin. You forgot to take your
potion tonight, so I took a gobletful along. And very lucky I did... lucky for
me, I mean. Lying on your desk was a certain map. One glance at it told me all I
needed to know. I saw you running along this passageway and out of
sight.”
“Severus —” Lupin began, but Snape overrode him.
“I've told the
headmaster again and again that you're helping your old friend Black into the
castle, Lupin, and here's the proof. Not even I dreamed you would have the nerve
to use this old place as your hideout —”
“Severus, you're making a mistake,”
said Lupin urgently. “You haven't heard everything—I can explain—Sirius is not
here to kill Harry —”
“Two more for Azkaban tonight,” said Snape, his eyes
now gleaming fanatically. “I shall be interested to see how Dumbledore takes
this... He was quite convinced you were harmless, you know, Lupin... a tame
werewolf —”
“You fool,” said Lupin softly. “Is a schoolboy grudge worth
putting an innocent man back inside Azkaban?”
BANG! Thin, snakelike cords
burst from the end of Snape's wand and twisted themselves around Lupin's mouth,
wrists, and ankles; he overbalanced and fell to the floor, unable to move. With
a roar of rage, Black started toward Snape, but Snape pointed his wand straight
between Black's eyes.
“Give me a reason,” he whispered. “Give me a reason to
do it, and I swear I will.”
Black stopped dead. It would have been impossible
to say which face showed more hatred.
Harry stood there, paralyzed, not
knowing what to do or whom to believe. He glanced around at Ron and Hermione.
Ron looked just as confused as he did, still fighting to keep hold on the
struggling Scabbers. Hermione, however, took an uncertain step toward Snape and
said, in a very breathless voice, “Professor Snape—it it wouldn't hurt to hear
what they've got to say, w—would it?”
“Miss Granger, you are already facing
suspension from this school,” Snape spat. “You, Potter, and Weasley are
out-of-bounds, in the company of a convicted murderer and a werewolf. For once
in your life, hold your tongue.”
“But if—if there was a mistake —”
“KEEP
QUIET, YOU STUPID GIRL!” Snape shouted, looking suddenly quite deranged. “DON'T
TALK ABOUT WHAT YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND!” A few sparks shot out of the end of his
wand, which was still pointed at Black's face. Hermione fell
silent.
“Vengeance is very sweet,” Snape breathed at Black. “How I hoped I
would be the one to catch you...”
“The joke's on you again, Severus,” Black
snarled. “As long as this boy brings his rat up to the castle”—he jerked his
head at Ron—”I'll come quietly...”
“Up to the castle?” said Snape silkily. “I
don't think we need to go that far. All I have to do is call the dementors once
we get out of the Willow. They'll be very pleased to see you, Black... pleased
enough to give you a little kiss, I daresay... I —”
What little color there
was in Blacks face left it.
“You -you've got to hear me out,” he croaked.
“The rat—look at the rat —”
But there was a mad glint in Snape's eyes that
Harry had never seen before. He seemed beyond reason.
“Come on, all of you,”
he said. He clicked his fingers, and the ends of the cords that bound Lupin flew
to his hands. “I'll drag the werewolf. Perhaps the dementors will have a kiss
for him too —”
Before he knew what he was doing, Harry had crossed the room
in three strides and blocked the door.
“Get out of the way, Potter, you're in
enough trouble already,” snarled Snape. “If I hadn't been here to save your skin
—”
“Professor Lupin could have killed me about a hundred times this year,”
Harry said. “I've been alone with him loads of times, having defense lessons
against the dementors. If he was helping Black, why didn't he just finish me off
then?”
“Don't ask me to fathom the way a werewolf's mind works,” hissed
Snape. “Get out of the way, Potter.”
“YOURE PATHETIC!” Harry yelled. “JUST
BECAUSE THEY MADE A FOOL OF YOU AT SCHOOL YOU WON'T EVEN LISTEN —”
“SILENCE!
I WILL NOT BE SPOKEN TO LIKE THAT!” Snape shrieked, looking madder than ever.
“Like father, like son, Potter! I have just saved your neck; you should be
thanking me on bended knee! You would have been well served if he'd killed you!
You'd have died like your father, too arrogant to believe you might be mistaken
in Black—now get out of the way, or I will make you. GET OUT OF THE WAY,
POTTER!”
Harry made up his mind in a split second. Before Snape could take
even one step toward him, he had raised his wand.
“Expelliarmus!” he
yelled—except that his wasn't the only voice that shouted. There was a blast
that made the door rattle on its hinges; Snape was lifted off his feet and
slammed into the wall, then slid down it to the floor, a trickle of blood oozing
from under his hair. He had been knocked out.
Harry looked around. Both Ron
and Hermione had tried to disarm Snape at exactly the same moment. Snape's wand
soared in a high arc and landed on the bed next to Crookshanks.
“You
shouldn't have done that,” said Black, looking at Harry.
“You should have
left him to me...”
Harry avoided Black's eyes. He wasn't sure, even now, that
he'd done the right thing.
“We attacked a teacher... We attacked a
teacher...” Hermione whimpered, staring at the lifeless Snape with frightened
eyes. “Oh, we're going to be in so much trouble —”
Lupin was struggling
against his bonds. Black bent down quickly and untied him. Lupin straightened
up, rubbing his arms where the ropes had cut into them.
“Thank you, Harry,”
he said.
“I'm still not saying I believe you,” he told Lupin.
“Then it's
time we offered you some proof,” said Lupin. “You, boy—give me Peter, please.
Now.”
Ron clutched Scabbers closer to his chest.
“Come off it,” he said
weakly. “Are you trying to say he broke out of Azkaban just to get his hands on
Scabbers? I mean...” He looked up at Harry and Hermione for support, “Okay, say
Pettigrew could turn into a rat—there are millions of rats—how's he supposed to
know which one he's after if he was locked up in Azkaban?”
“You know, Sirius,
that's a fair question,” said Lupin, turning to Black and frowning slightly.
“How did you find out where he was?”
Black put one of his clawlike hands
inside his robes and took out a crumpled piece of paper, which he smoothed flat
and held out to show the others.
It was the photograph of Ron and his family
that had appeared in the Daily Prophet the previous summer, and there, on Ron's
shoulder, was Scabbers.
“How did you get this?” Lupin asked Black,
thunderstruck.
“Fudge,” said Black. “When he came to inspect Azkaban last
year, he gave me his paper. And there was Peter, on the front page on this boy's
shoulder... I knew him at once... how many times had I seen him transform? And
the caption said the boy would be going back to Hogwarts... to where Harry
was...
“My God,” said Lupin softly, staring from Scabbers to the picture in
the paper and back again. “His front paw...”
“What about it?” said Ron
defiantly.
“He's got a toe missing,” said Black.
“Of course,” Lupin
breathed. “So simple... so brilliant... he cut it off himself?”
“Just before
he transformed,” said Black. “When I cornered him, he yelled for the whole
street to hear that I'd betrayed Lily and James. Then, before I could curse him,
he blew apart the street with the wand behind his back, killed everyone within
twenty feet of himself—and sped down into the sewer with the other
rats...”
“Didn't you ever hear, Ron?” said Lupin. “The biggest bit of Peter
they found was his finger.”
“Look, Scabbers probably had a fight with another
rat or something! He's been in my family for ages, right —”
“Twelve years, in
fact,” said Lupin. “Didn't you ever wonder why he was living so
long?”
“We—we've been taking good care of him!” said Ron.
“Not looking too
good at the moment, though, is he?” said Lupin. “I'd guess he's been losing
weight ever since he heard Sirius was on the loose again...”
“He's been
scared of that mad cat!” said Ron, nodding toward Crookshanks, who was still
purring on the bed.
But that wasn't right, Harry thought suddenly... Scabbers
had been looking ill before he met Crookshanks... ever since Ron's return from
Egypt... since the time when Black had escaped...
“This cat isn't mad,” said
Black hoarsely. He reached out a bony hand and stroked Crookshanks's fluffy
head. “He's the most intelligent of his kind I've ever met. He recognized Peter
for what he was right away. And when he met me, he knew I was no dog. It was a
while before he trusted me... Finally, I managed to communicate to him what I
was after, and he's been helping me.. . “What do you mean?” breathed
Hermione.
“He tried to bring Peter to me, but couldn't... so he stole the
passwords into Gryffindor Tower for me... As I understand it, he took them from
a boy's bedside table...”
Harry's brain seemed to be sagging under the weight
of what he was hearing. It was absurd... and yet...
“But Peter got wind of
what was going on and ran for it.” croaked Black. “This cat—Crookshanks, did you
call him?—told me Peter had left blood on the sheets... I supposed he bit
himself... Well, faking his own death had worked once.”
These words jolted
Harry to his senses.
“And why did he fake his death?” he said furiously.
“Because he knew you were about to kill him like you killed my
parents!”
“No,” said Lupin, “Harry-”
“And now you've come to finish him
off!”
“Yes, I have,” said Black, with an evil look at Scabbers.
“Then I
should've let Snape take you!” Harry shouted.
“Harry,” said Lupin hurriedly,
“don't you see? All this time we've thought Sirius betrayed your parents, and
Peter tracked him down—but it was the other way around, don't you see? Peter
betrayed your mother and father—Sirius tracked Peter down —”
“THAT'S NOT
TRUE!” Harry yelled. “HE WAS THEIR SECRET-KEEPER! HE SAID SO BEFORE YOU TURNED
UP. HE SAID HE KILLED THEM!”
He was pointing at Black, who shook his head
slowly; the sunken eyes were suddenly over bright.
“Harry... I as good as
killed them,” he croaked. “I persuaded Lily and James to change to Peter at the
last moment, persuaded them to use him as Secret-Keeper instead of me... I'm to
blame, I know it... The night they died, I'd arranged to check on Peter, make
sure he was still safe, but when I arrived at his hiding place, he'd gone. Yet
there was no sign of a struggle. It didn't feel right. I was scared. I set out
for your parents' house straight away. And when I saw their house, destroyed,
and their bodies... I realized what Peter must've done... what I'd
done...”
His voice broke. He turned away.
“Enough of this,” said Lupin,
and there was a steely note in his voice Harry had never heard before. “There's
one certain way to prove what really happened. Ron, give me that rat.”
“What
are you going to do with him if I give him to you?” Ron asked Lupin
tensely.
“Force him to show himself,” said Lupin. “If he really is a rat, it
won't hurt him.”
Ron hesitated. Then at long last, he held out Scabbers and
Lupin took him. Scabbers began to squeak without stopping, twisting and turning,
his tiny black eyes bulging in his head. “Ready, Sirius?” said Lupin.
Black
had already retrieved Snape's wand from the bed. He approached Lupin and the
struggling rat, and his wet eyes suddenly seemed to be burning in his
face.
“Together?” he said quietly.
“I think so,,, said Lupin, holding
Scabbers tightly in one hand and his wand in the other. “On the count of three.
One—two—THREE!”
A flash of blue-white light erupted from both wands; for a
moment, Scabbers was frozen in midair, his small gray form twisting madly—Ron
yelled—the rat fell and hit the floor. There was another blinding flash of light
and then —
It was like watching a speeded-up film of a growing tree. A head
was shooting upward from the ground; limbs were sprouting; a moment later, a man
was standing where Scabbers had been, cringing and wringing his hands.
Crookshanks was spitting and snarling on the bed; the hair on his back was
standing up.
He was a very short man, hardly taller than Harry and Hermione.
His thin, colorless hair was unkempt and there was a large bald patch on top. He
had the shrunken appearance of a plump man who has lost a lot of weight in a
short time. His skin looked grubby, almost like Scabbers's fur, and something of
the rat lingered around his pointed nose and his very small, watery eyes. He
looked around at them all, his breathing fast and shallow. Harry saw his eyes
dart to the door and back again.
“Well, hello, Peter,” said Lupin pleasantly,
as though rats frequently erupted into old school friends around him. “Long
time, no see.
“S—Sirius... R—Remus...” Even Pettigrew's voice was squeaky.
Again, his eyes darted toward the door. “My friends... my old
friends...”
Black's wand arm rose, but Lupin seized him around the wrist,
gave him a warning took, then turned again to Pettigrew, his voice light and
casual.
“We've been having a little chat, Peter, about what happened the
night Lily and James died. You might have missed the finer points while you were
squeaking around down there on the bed —”
“Remus,” gasped Pettigrew, and
Harry could see beads of sweat breaking out over his pasty face, “you don't
believe him, do you...? He tried to kill me, Remus...”
“So we've heard,” said
Lupin, more coldly. “I'd like to clear up one or two little matters with you,
Peter, if you'll be so —”
“He's come to try and kill me again!” Pettigrew
squeaked suddenly, pointing at Black, and Harry saw that he used his middle
finger, because his index was missing. “He killed Lily and James and now he's
going to kill me too... You've got to help me, Remus...”
Black's face looked
more skull-like than ever as he stared at Pettigrew with his fathomless
eyes.
“No one's going to try and kill you until we've sorted a few things
out,” said Lupin.
“Sorted things out?” squealed Pettigrew, looking wildly
about him once more, eyes taking in the boarded windows and, again' the only
door. “I knew he'd come after me! I knew he'd be back for me! I've been waiting
for this for twelve years!”
“You knew Sirius was going to break out of
Azkaban?” said Lupin, his brow furrowed. “When nobody has ever done it
before?”
“He's got dark powers the rest of us can only dream of!” Pettigrew
shouted shrilly. “How else did he get out of there? I suppose
He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named taught him a few tricks!”
Black started to laugh, a
horrible, mirthless laugh that filled the whole room.
“Voldemort, teach me
tricks?” he said.
Pettigrew flinched as though Black had brandished a whip at
him.
“What, scared to hear your old master's name?” said Black. I don't blame
you, Peter. His lot aren't very happy with you, are they?”
“Don't know what
you mean, Sirius —” muttered Pettigrew, his breathing faster than ever. His
whole face was shining with sweat now.
“You haven't been hiding from me for
twelve years,” said Black. “You've been hiding from Voldemort's old supporters.
I heard things in Azkaban, Peter... They all think you're dead, or you'd have to
answer to them... I've heard them screaming all sorts of things in their sleep.
Sounds like they think the double-crosser double-crossed them. Voldemort went to
the Potters' on your information... and Voldemort met his downfall there. And
not all Voldemort's supporters ended up in Azkaban, did they? There are still
plenty out here, biding their time, pretending they've seen the error of their
ways.
If they ever got wind that you were still alive, Peter —”
“Don't
know... what you're talking about...,” said Pettigrew again, more shrilly than
ever. He wiped his face on his sleeve and looked up at Lupin. “You don't believe
this—this madness, Remus —”
“I must admit, Peter, I have difficulty in
understanding why an innocent man would want to spend twelve years as a rat,”
said Lupin evenly.
“Innocent, but scared!” squealed Pettigrew. “If
Voldemort's supporters were after me, it was because I put one of their best men
in Azkaban—the spy, Sirius Black!”
Black's face contorted.
“How dare you,”
he growled, sounding suddenly like the bearsized dog he had been. I, a spy for
Voldemort? When did I ever sneak around people who were stronger and more
powerful than myself? But you, Peter—I'll never understand why I didn't see you
were the spy from the start. You always liked big friends who'd look after you,
didn't you? It used to be us... me and Remus... and James...
Pettigrew wiped
his face again; he was almost panting for breath.
“Me, a spy... must be out
of your mind... never... don't know how you can say such a —”
“Lily and James
only made you Secret-Keeper because I suggested it,” Black hissed, so venomously
that Pettigrew took a step backward. “I thought it was the perfect plan... a
bluff... Voldemort would be sure to come after me, would never dream they'd use
a weak, talentless thing like you... It must have been the finest moment of your
miserable life, telling Voldemort you could hand him the Potters.”
Pettigrew
was muttering distractedly; Harry caught words like “far-fetched” and “lunacy,”
but he couldn't help paying more attention to the ashen color of Pettigrew's
face and the way his eyes continued to dart toward the windows and
door.
“Professor Lupin?” said Hermione timidly. “Can—can I say
something?”
“Certainly, Hermione,” said Lupin
courteously.
“Well—Scabbers—I mean, this—this man—he's been sleeping in
Harry's dormitory for three years. If he's working for You-Know-Who, how come he
never tried to hurt Harry before now?”
“There!” said Pettigrew shrilly,
pointing at Ron with his maimed hand. “Thank you! You see, Remus? I have never
hurt a hair of Harry's head! Why should I?”
“I'll tell you why,” said Black.
“Because you never did anything for anyone unless you could see what was in it
for you. Voldemort's been in hiding for fifteen years, they say he's half dead.
You weren't about to commit murder right under Albus Dumbledore's nose, for a
wreck of a wizard who'd lost all of his power, were you? You'd want to be quite
sure he was the biggest bully in the playground before you went back to him,
wouldn't you? Why else did you find a wizard family to take you in? Keeping an
ear out for news, weren't YOU, Peter? Just in case your old protector regained
strength, and it was safe to rejoin him...”
Pettigrew opened his mouth and
closed it several times. He seemed to have lost the ability to talk.
“Er—Mr.
Black—Sirius?” said Hermione.
Black jumped at being addressed like this and
stared at Hermione as though he had never seen anything quite like her.
“If
you don't mind me asking, how—how did you get out of Azkaban, if you didn't use
Dark Magic?”
“Thank you!” gasped Pettigrew, nodding frantically at her.
“Exactly! Precisely what I —”
But Lupin silenced him with a look. Black was
frowning slightly at Hermione, but not as though he were annoyed with her. He
seemed to be pondering his answer.
“I don't know how I did it,” he said
slowly. “I think the only reason I never lost my mind is that I knew I was
innocent. That wasn't a happy thought, so the dementors couldn't suck it out of
me... but it kept me sane and knowing who I am... helped me keep my powers... so
when it all became ...too much... I could transform in my cell... become a dog.
Dementors can't see, you know...” He swallowed. “They feel their way toward
people by feeding off their emotions... They could tell that my feelings were
less—less human, less complex when I was a dog... but they thought, of course,
that I was losing my mind like everyone else in there, so it didn't trouble
them. But I was weak, very weak, and I had no hope of driving them away from me
without a wand...”
“But then I saw Peter in that picture... I realized he was
at Hogwarts with Harry... perfectly positioned to act, if one hint reached his
ears that the Dark Side was gathering strength again...”
Pettigrew was
shaking his head, mouthing noiselessly, but staring all the while at Black as
though hypnotized.
“...ready to strike at the moment he could be sure of
allies... and to deliver the last Potter to them. if he gave them Harry, who'd
dare say he'd betrayed Lord Voldemort? He'd be welcomed back with
honors...
“So you see, I had to do something. I was the only one who knew
Peter was still alive...”
Harry remembered what Mr. Weasley had told Mrs.
Wealsey. “The guards say he's been talking in his sleep... always the same
words... 'He's at Hogwarts. '”
“It was as if someone had lit a fire In my
head, and the dementors couldn't destroy it... It wasn't a happy feeling... it
was an obsession... but it gave me strength, it cleared my mind. So, one night
when they opened my door to bring food, I slipped past them as a dog... It's so
much harder for them to sense animal emotions that they were confused... I was
thin, very thin... thin enough to slip through the bars... I swam as a dog back
to the mainland... I journeyed north and slipped into the Hogwarts grounds as a
dog. I've been living in the forest ever since, except when I came to watch the
Quidditch, of course. You fly as well as your father did, Harry...”
He looked
at Harry, who did not look away.
“Believe me,” croaked Black. “Believe me,
Harry. I never betrayed James and Lily. I would have died before I betrayed
them.”
And at long last, Harry believed him. Throat too tight to speak, he
nodded.
“No!”
Pettigrew had fallen to his knees as though Harry's nod had
been his own death sentence. He shuffled forward on his knees, groveling, his
hands clasped in front of him as though praying.
“Sirius—it's me... it's
Peter... your friend... you wouldn't —”
Black kicked out and Pettigrew
recoiled.
“There's enough filth on my robes without you touching them,” said
Black.
“Remus!” Pettigrew squeaked, turning to Lupin instead, writhing
imploringly in front of him. “You don't believe this wouldn't Sirius have told
you they'd changed the plan?”
“Not if he thought I was the spy, Peter,” said
Lupin. “I assume that's why you didn't tell me, Sirius?” he said casually over
Pettigrews head.
“Forgive me, Remus,” said Black.
“Not at all, Padfoot,
old friend,” said Lupin, who was now rolling up his sleeves. “And will you, in
turn, forgive me for believing you were the spy?”
“Of course,” said Black,
and the ghost of a grin flitted across his gaunt face. He, too, began rolling up
his sleeves. “Shall we kill him together?”
“Yes, I think so,” said Lupin
grimly.
“You wouldn't... you won't...,” gasped Pettigrew. And he scrambled
around to Ron.
“Ron... haven't I been a good friend... a good pet? You won't
let them kill me, Ron, will you... you're on my side, aren't you.
But Ron was
staring at Pettigrew with the utmost revulsion.
“I let you sleep in my bed!”
he said.
“Kind boy... kind master...” Pettigrew crawled toward Ron “You won't
let them do it... I was your rat... I was a good pet...”
“If you made a
better rat than a human, it's not much to boast about, Peter,” said Black
harshly. Ron, going still paler with pain, wrenched his broken leg out of
Pettigrew's reach. Pettigrew turned on his knees, staggered forward, and seized
the hem of Hermione's robes.
“Sweet girl... clever girl... you—you won't let
them... Help me...”
Hermione pulled her robes out of Pettigrew's clutching
hands and backed away against the wall, looking horrified.
Pettigrew knelt,
trembling uncontrollably, and-turned his head slowly toward Harry.
“Harry...
Harry... you look just like your father... just like him...”
“HOW DARE YOU
SPEAK TO HARRY?” roared Black. “HOW DARE YOU FACE HIM? HOW DARE YOU TALK ABOUT
JAMES IN FRONT OF HIM?”
“Harry,” whispered Pettigrew, shuffling toward him,
hands outstretched. “Harry, James wouldn't have wanted me killed... James would
have understood, Harry... he would have shown me mercy...”
Both Black and
Lupin strode forward, seized Pettigrew's shoulders, and threw him backward onto
the floor. He sat there, twitching with terror, staring up at them.
“You sold
Lily and James to Voldemort,” said Black, who was shaking too. “Do you deny
it?”
Pettigrew burst into tears. It was horrible to watch, like an oversized,
balding baby, cowering on the floor.
“Sirius, Sirius, what could I have done?
The Dark Lord... you have no idea... he has weapons you can't imagine... I was
scared, Sirius, I was never brave like you and Remus and James. I never meant it
to happen... He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named forced me —”
“DON'T LIE!” bellowed
Black. “YOU'D BEEN PASSING INFORMATION TO HIM FOR A YEAR BEFORE LILY AND JAMES
DIED! YOU WERE HIS SPY!”
“He—he was taking over everywhere!” gasped
Pettigrew. “Wh—what was there to be gained by refusing him?”
“What was there
to be gained by fighting the most evil wizard who has ever existed?” said Black,
with a terrible fury in his face. “Only innocent lives, Peter!”
“You don't
understand!” whined Pettigrew. “He would have killed me, Sirius!”
“THEN YOU
SHOULD HAVE DIED!” roared Black. “DIED RATHER THAN BETRAY YOUR FRIENDS, AS WE
WOULD HAVE DONE FOR YOU!”
Black and Lupin stood shoulder to shoulder, wands
raised.
“You should have realized,” said Lupin quietly, “if Voldemort didn't
kill you, we would. Good-bye, Peter.”
Hermione covered her face with her
hands and turned to the wall.
“NO!” Harry yelled. He ran forward, placing
himself in front Pettigrew, facing the wands. “You can't kill him,” he said
breathlessly. “You can't.”
Black and Lupin both looked staggered.
“Harry,
this piece of vermin is the reason you have no parents,” Black snarled. “This
cringing bit of filth would have seen you die too, without turning a hair. You
heard him. His own stinking skin meant more to him than your whole
family.”
“I know,” Harry panted. “We'll take him up to the castle. We'll hand
him over to the dementors... He can go to Azkaban... but don't kill
him.”
“Harry!” gasped Pettigrew, and he flung his arms around Harry's knees.
“You—thank you—it's more than I deserve—thank you —”
“Get off me,” Harry
spat, throwing Pettigrew's hands off him in disgust. “I'm not doing this for
you. I'm doing it because—I don't reckon my dad would've wanted them to become
killers—just for you.”
No one moved or made a sound except Pettigrew, whose
breath was coming in wheezes as he clutched his chest. Black and Lupin were
looking at each other. Then, with one movement, they lowered their
wands.
“You're the only person who has the right to decide, Harry,” said
Black. “But think... think what he did...”
“He can go to Azkaban,” Harry
repeated. “If anyone deserves that place, he does...”
Pettigrew was still
wheezing behind him.
“Very well,” said Lupin. “Stand aside, Harry.”
Harry
hesitated.
“I'm going to tie him up,” said Lupin. “That's all, I
swear.”
Harry stepped out of the way. Thin cords shot from Lupin's wand this
time, and next moment, Pettigrew was wriggling on the floor, bound and
gagged.
“But if you transform, Peter,” growled Black, his own wand pointing
at Pettigrew too, “we will kill you. You agree, Harry?”
Harry looked down at
the pitiful figure on the floor and nodded so that Pettigrew could see
him.
“Right,” said Lupin, suddenly businesslike. “Ron, I can't mend bones
nearly as well as Madam Pomfrey, so I think it's best if we just strap your leg
up until we can get you to the hospital wing.”
He hurried over to Ron, bent
down, tapped Ron's leg with his wand, and muttered, “Ferula.” Bandages spun up
Ron's leg, strapping it tightly to a splint. Lupin helped him to his feet; Ron
put his weight gingerly on the leg and didn't wince.
“That's better,” he
said. “Thanks.”
“What about Professor Snape?” said Hermione in a small voice,
looking down at Snape's prone figure.
“There's nothing seriously wrong with
him,” said Lupin, bending over Snape and checking his pulse. “You were just a
little—overenthusiastic. Still out cold. Er—perhaps it will be best if we don't
revive him until we're safety back in the castle. We can take him like
this...”
He muttered, “Mobilicorpus.” As though invisible strings were tied
to Snape's wrists, neck, and knees, he was pulled into a standing position, head
still lolling unpleasantly, like a grotesque puppet. He hung a few inches above
the ground, his limp feet dangling. Lupin picked up the Invisibility Cloak and
tucked it safely into his pocket.
“And two of us should be chained to this,”
said Black, nudging Pettigrew with his toe. “Just to make sure.”
“I'll do
it,” said Lupin.
“And me,” said Ron savagely, limping forward.
Black
conjured heavy manacles from thin air; soon Pettigrew was upright again, left
arm chained to Lupin's right, right arm to Ron's left. Ron's face was set. He
seemed to have taken Scabbers's true identity as a personal insult. Crookshanks
leapt lightly off the bed and led the way out of the room, his bottlebrush tail
held jauntily high.
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