Chapter 149: Peter Pettigrew

An inviting scent of agarwood infused the air in the otherwise silent room. The surroundings were shrouded in darkness, broken only by a faint twinkle radiating from a crystal orb positioned on the centre table. Within the mystical sphere, a nebulous figure seemed to continuously shift in form, proving an enigma for anyone searching for its meaning.

Seated in the hushed room was Hilke, clad in her preferred, loose-fitting black robe and hood which partially obscured her face. For an entire day, she remained entranced by the crystal ball, despite the restless and nebulous fate it presented. This specific fate was a unique sight; she was only a diviner, not a clairvoyant, and moments of clouded foresight were to be expected.

Nevertheless, the figments of a future she perceived were not stable but rapidly changing, altering to over ten thousand different possibilities in a mere day. The vision was more puzzling than previous divinations, which were often obscured by hazy confusion, allowing only unclear inklings of the prophecy. Abruptly interrupting her musings, a green flame sparked in the frigid fireplace, molding into the face of a middle-aged witch. "My apologies for intruding during your divination, Hilke," she said, "but the Minister insists on your urgent presence regarding a matter of importance."

Hilke promptly responded, her voice icier than the bitter winds of the Northlands, "What matter of importance?"

"The Memory Retrieval Unit has concluded the deciphering of Fiddlesticks' recollections. We've unearthed why the it wished to flee, as well as identified the origins of your friend's mysterious pendant box."

...

On the outskirts of Hogwarts, within the Forbidden Forest, Harry, Ron, and Hermione were frozen in stunned disbelief.

Their most trusted Defense Against the Dark Arts professor had formed an unexpected alliance with the notorious criminal Sirius Black, who had betrayed Harry's family, pledged loyalty to Voldemort and now sought Harry's life.

"What are you doing Professor?!" Hermione protested, her voice choked with emotion as tears cascaded down her cheeks. Ron stood mute, bewilderment etched across his face as he desperately clutched his wand. Harry's hardened facade shattered into a pool of confusion and heartbreak.

He vividly recalled the lessons with Sherlock, his birthday celebrations and even the trip to France. Was the kind and devoted tutor merely a façade, was Sherlock, much like the ill-famed Black, truly a servant of the Dark Lord? As confusion clouded his thoughts, the feeling of abject betrayal consumed him.

Unfazed by their astonished expressions, Professor Forester nonchalantly gestured, and Ron's and Hermione's wands magically flew into his grasp. However, Harry remained unscathed.

"Why, Professor? Why are you helping `him`?" Harry demanded through a flood of tears, his wand trembling in his grasp. Slightly annoyed, Sherlock simply waved him aside and curtly instructed, "Stop your unnecessary theatrics, Harry. It's not you we're here to apprehend. Now take your position beside Hermione and refrain from interfering with our task."

Harry suddenly became aware that the accusatory wands of Professor Forester, Lupin, and Sirius Black, were not directed at him, but towards Ron.

"Hurry, seize him already! I can't wait much longer!" Sirius bellowed impatiently. They surrounded Ron, leaving Harry and Hermione to watch from the sidelines, dumbstruck at the dramatic unfolding of events. With initial disbelief gradually morphing into desperation, Ron clung onto Scabbers as though the rat was his only lifeline, notwithstanding Scabbers frantic attempts to escape.

"Me?" Ron whined, disbelieving. "Why are you after me? I'm innocent!"

Lupin, however, remained focused on the rat, his voice placid as ever. "No, Ron, don't fear. We are neither after Harry nor you. Just hand me the rat you're holding onto."

His statement further perplexed the trio. "Scabbers?", Ron squeezed his pet rat tighter, "Why would you want him? He's just a sickly, old rat, he hasn't done anything wrong!"

Not willing to wait any longer, Black lunged forward to wrestle Scabbers from Ron, but Lupin swiftly rebuked him. "We owe them an explanation, Sirius! Their right to understand what we're doing cannot be denied."

"We can explain later!"

"Petrificus Totalus!"

A sudden spell ended the tense disagreement between Lupin and Sirius.

Sherlock Forester and Ron's eyes met, the latter of which was huffing for breath but was, thankfully, not petrified. Sherlock's gaze then fell upon Scabbers -- previously helplessly scrambling in Ron's hands, but currently stiffened into a statuesque state, only his eyes crazily darting about.

"You're testing my patience," Sherlock said, his voice filled with weariness. "I agree we should owe an explanation to Harry and the rest, but first, we have to catch the damn rat."

Sherlock extended a careless shrug towards Harry and the others. "Fancy a tale?" He proposed, his tone neutral. "If you're all ears, kindly settle down and allow Lupin and Sirius to enthrall you. Oh, and Ron, I believe your grip on Scabbers can ease a bit; lest you suffocate him and provoke Sirius to unleash his wrath upon you."

Harry shook his head, his face etched with disbelief. "What's going on, Professors? I don't understand why you're so obsessed with a rat," He confessed, his voice wobbling. "Black's a notorious murderer, he killed my parents! The entire wizarding community is hunting him down, yet you, two esteemed Hogwarts professors, associate themselves with such a monster... just to target Ron's pet rat?!"

"Because that pathetic creature is no rat," Sirius retorted, his voice laced with scorn. Drawing in a calming breath, Lupin intervened. "He's an Animagus, his real name is Peter Pettigrew."

"You've gone mad! The lot of you!" Ron rejected, his voice betraying his disbelief. Hermione weakly echoed his sentiments, whispering, "Ridiculous!"

Deftly choosing to distance himself from their tension-filled exchange, Sherlock instead trained his ears to a ticking sound. It was faint, and he couldn't discern its source, but it was unmistakable. Meanwhile, Lupin and Sirius relayed the eerie tale to the increasingly convinced Harry and friends. "It was right here in the Forbidden Forest where Lupin and Sherlock cornered me. Eventually, they believed my version and joined me in the capture of Pettigrew!" Sirius claimed, his voice filled with raw emotion.

Throughout the conversation, Sirius' gaze never strayed from Scabbers, even for a fleeting moment. Spending a decade in Azkaban, and then a year as a fugitive, his target was now within his grasp! Sirius, known for his impatience, was struggling to keep his composure. Harry, albeit intrigued by Sirius' tale, demanded solid proof.

"How could we believe anything you say?" He asked, his eyes boring into Sirius'. Sirius turned to Ron, extending his hand out gesturing for the rat.

"Hand him over to me, I'll prove it to you," Sirius instructed. Ron was visibly panic-stricken. Although beginning to trust the teachers' claims, his bond with Scabbers made it a hard pill to swallow. Lupin intervened, his voice soothing. "Think about it, Ron. How could a normal rat live as long as Scabbers has?"

"But we've taken good care of him," Ron retorted defensively.

Lupin calmly continued, "But didn't his behaviour alter when Black's escape from Azkaban became public knowledge? He's been running away a lot hasn't he?"

Ron faltered slightly, "If I hand him over to you, what will you do to him?"

Lupin replied, "Merely force him to reveal his true form. If he is truly just a rat, he will suffer no harm."

Wrestling with his trust and fearful for Scabbers, Ron ultimately subdued his concerns and handed over his pet rat. At this moment, Scabbers was still under the influence of Sherlock's petrifaction spell, rigid with fear frozen in his beady eyes. Lupin firmly held Scabbers as Sirius eyes sparkled with fierce determination. Their wands were raised, and Lupin turned to Sherlock, inviting him, "Would you do the honors and join us, Sherlock?" Sherlock directed his wand at Scabbers without a word, "A revelatory spell, correct?"

"Indeed," Lupin replied, "The Animagi are particularly susceptible to it." He held Scabbers tightly while maintaining a firm grip on his wand. "I will count to three. One, two, three!"

Three wands cast their luminescent blue-white spell. After a moment, Scabbers, previously under petrifaction, squirmed helplessly in mid-air. The seemingly ordinary rat fell to the ground amidst a dazzling display of magic. Soon, a bald, dirty, and visibly aged wizard stood in Scabbers' stead, shaking while extending his hands in a pleading gesture. An instant layer, Sherlock swiftly launched his binding spell. Magical ropes materialized, securing the terrified Peter Pettigrew, eliminating any chance of flight.