Harry
stepped forward.

“I’m still not sure I believe
you,” he said, tersely.

“Then it’s time we offered you
some proof,” said Black, still watching the way Remus was looking at Amelia.
“You boy – give me Peter. Now.” His voice
suggested that he had been used to commanding respect.

Ron
clutched Scabbers closer to his chest.

“Come off it,” he said weakly.
“Are you trying to say you broke out of Azkaban just to get your hands on Scabbers?
I mean…” he looked up at Harry, Hermione and Amelia
for support. “Ok, 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 claw-like hands inside his robes – Amelia’s
hand tightened around her wand – and took out a crumpled piece of paper, which
he smoothed flat and held it out to show the others.

It was the photograph of Ron
and his family that had appeared in this Daily Prophet the previous
summer, and there, on Ron’s shoulder, was
Scabbers.

“How did you get this?” asked
Remus, 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 Remus 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,” Remus breathed, and Amelia
felt her resolve begin to slip, “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…”

“The biggest bit of Peter
they could find was his finger…” Amelia said
softly, and lowered her wand.

“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!”

“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 towards Crookshanks, who
was still purring on the bed.

“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 recognised Peter
for what he was straight away. And when he met me, he knew I was no dog. It was
awhile 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…”

Amelia’s
brain was sagging under the weight of what she was hearing. It seemed absurd,
and yet… Poor Neville…

“But Peter
got wind of what was going on and ran for it… this cat – Crookshanks, did you
call him? – told me Peter had left blood on the
sheets… I suppose he bit himself… well faking his own death had worked once…”

“And why did he fake his own
death?” Harry said furiously. “Because he knew
you were about to kill him like you killed my parents!”

Amelia
raised her wand again; “Harry! Stay where you
are!” she hissed.

“Harry,
don’t you see?” said Remus hurriedly. “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; his 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 realised what Peter
must have done. What I’d done.”

His voice broke and he turned
away. Amelia had the sudden urge to give him a
hug, but she resisted… he was still the Enemy, after all.

“Enough of this,” said Remus, and
there was a steely note in his voice that they’d never heard before; it struck
Amelia that this was the Remus that had seen the castle’s ample defences put to
good use, a decade ago.

“Wait,” she said, and he paused,
still willing to defer to her. “Mr Black,”
she addressed the broken man before her, “I am a reader. Do you know what that
means?” Behind her, Ron gave a small gasp.

Black looked up at her, “You see
to the truth of things.”

She nodded and held out her free
hand.

“Show me,” she said simply.

He looked up at Remus, who nodded
tersely, before taking her hand. He was desperately thin and his skin felt like
paper beneath her fingers; Amelia immediately
thought of the instructional skeletons they’d worked with in bone lab at
university. She closed her eyes.

There was an intense rush of
sound; all at once, she saw Remus and his friends transform; saw them attending
Lily and James’s wedding, Remus and Sirius dancing like lunatics at the
reception; saw them playing with a tiny, unblemished Harry. She heard Pettigrew
warning Sirius not to trust Remus as he’d always loved Lily,
felt the accompanying shiver of suspicion that he’d felt. She saw Sirius
convincing James that Peter would make an excellent Secret-Keeper; saw Sirius’s
frantic ride to Godric’s Hollow that fateful night; saw the cottage in ruins,
flowers strewn around the yard; saw Lily and James, pale and destroyed in the
cold night air. Felt the howl of despair escape her own lips as it had pushed
through his, so many years ago.

As she felt Hermione’s worried
hand on her back and heard Remus call her name (along with a chorus of
“Professor!” from behind her), she saw Hagrid bend and pluck an infant from the
rubble. The baby gurgled and laughed as the half-giant held him, and grasped
Sirius’s finger as he made to check on him.

Blinking, she let go of Sirius’s
hand and felt the tears streaming down her face.

“I am so very, very sorry,” she
said, to the man before her. Turning to Harry
she continued, wetly, “You smiled at Hagrid when he found you, you know, and
laughed…” he stared back at her across the years. “They’re telling the truth Harry.”

She pulled away from Remus and
Hermione and sank onto the bed, sobbing; all she could see was another home
reduced to rubble… Hermione hovered beside her, uncertain.

“Ron,”
said Remus, still looking at Amelia unhappily,
“give me that rat.”

“What are you going to do to
him?” asked Ron, tensely.

“Force him to show himself,” said
Remus. “If he really is a rat, it won’t hurt him.”

Ron
hesitated, then at long last held out Scabbers and Remus took him. Scabbers
began to squeak without stopping, twisting and turning, his tiny black eyes bulging
in his head.

If he really is a rat,
thought Amelia dimly, then it looks like he’s
about to have a heart attack.

Breathing hard, she patted Ron’s
hand as a gesture of comfort.

“Ready Sirius?” said Remus.

Black had
already retrieved Severus’s wand from the bed. He approached
Remus and the struggling rat, and his wet eyes suddenly seemed to be burning in
his face.

“Together?” he said quietly.

“I think so,” said Remus, 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 mid-air, his
small black 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 up a
speeded-up film of a growing tree. A head was shooting up from the ground;
limbs were sprouting; next moment, 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 standing up. Amelia
rather agreed with him.

Pettigrew was a very short man,
hardly taller than Hermione. His thin, colourless 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 great deal of weight in a short time. His skin looked grubby,
almost exactly like Scabbers’s fur, and something of the rat lingered around
his pointed nose, his very small, watery eyes. He looked around at them all,
his breathing fast and shallow. Amelia saw his
eyes dart to the door and back again; she didn’t need to be a reader to know
that Pettigrew was in trouble. And he knew it.

“Well, hello Peter,”
said Remus pleasantly, as though rats frequently erupted into old school
friends around him. They probably do, thought Amelia.
“Long time, no see.”

“S-Sirius… R-Remus…” even his
voice was squeaky. Again, his eyes darted towards the door. “My friends… my old
friends…”

Black’s wand arm rose, but Remus
seized him around the wrist, gave him a warning look, then turned again to
Pettigrew, his voice light and casual.

“We’ve been having a little chat,
Peter, about what happened on the night Lily
and James died. You might have missed the finer
points while you were squeaking around down there on the bed –”

It was the absolute calm in
Remus’s voice that betrayed his fury to Hermione; Amelia
could feel it burning through him, though he sounded for all the world like he
was chairing a meeting. Suddenly, for the first time, she was a little afraid
of him.

“Remus,” gasped Pettigrew as
beads of sweat broke out over his pasty face, “you don’t believe him, do you…
He tried to kill me, Remus…”

“So we’ve heard,” said Remus,
more coldly. “I’d like to clear up one or two little matters with you, Peter,
if you’d be so –”

“He’s come to try to kill me
again!” Peter shrieked suddenly, pointing at
Black with his middle finger. “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 to kill
you until we’ve sorted a few things out,” said Remus.

And after that? Amelia
thought, suddenly.

“Sorted things out?” squeaked
Pettigrew, looking wildly about him once more, his 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 would break out
of Azkaban?” said Remus, 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 as Amelia
tried to imagine herself dreaming of that level of darkness. “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; Amelia
felt for him.

“Voldemort, teach me tricks?”

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. It occurred to Amelia
that he might still have a heart attack. 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 Godric’s Hollow 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 of them out
there, 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…” repeated Pettigrew, more shrilly than ever. He wiped his face on his
sleeve and looked up at Remus. “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,” Remus said 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 exactly like the bear-sized dog he had been. “I, a spy for Voldemort?
When did I ever sneak around people who were stronger and more powerful than
me? 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? In school it used to be us…”

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 backwards. “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 ashen faced now and
muttering distractedly, not even bothering to conceal his fervent glances
towards window or door.

“Professor
Lupin?” said Hermione timidly. “Can – can I
say something?”

“Certainly, Hermione,” said Remus
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, why hasn’t he hurt
Harry before now?”

“There!” said Pettigrew shrilly,
pointing at her 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 twelve 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 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. It was a
lot like watching a car crash in slow motion; the men in front of her appeared
to need to hear him admit his treachery, though it was obvious for anyone to
see now. Or perhaps they need Harry
to hear it…

“Er – Mr
Black – Sirius?” said Hermione timidly. Amelia
was secretly very proud of her.

Black jumped at
being addressed like this and stared at Hermione as though being spoken to
politely was something he’d long forgotten.

“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 -”

“Oh shut up, you whiny git,” said
Amelia from the bed; Remus gave her a Look. Black
was frowning slightly at Hermione, but not as though he was 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 towards people by
sensing 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…

Amelia
reached out to him and took his hand, briefly; he looked at her bemused.

“But then I saw Peter
in that picture… I realised 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 at Black as though hypnotised.

“… ready to strike the moment he
could be sure of allies… 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 honours…

“So you see, I had to do
something. I was the only one who knew Peter was
still alive… 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 come 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. I never betrayed James and Lily.
I would have died before I betrayed them.”

And at long last, Harry
appeared to believe 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, grovelling, 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 him instead, writhing on the floor 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 Remus, who was now rolling up his
sleeves in a business-like manner. “I assume that’s why you didn’t tell me,
Sirius?” he said casually over Pettigrew’s head.

“Forgive me, Remus,” said Black.

“Not at all, Padfoot, old
friend,” said Remus, the shadow of a smile on his lips. “And will you, in turn,
forgive me for thinking you were the spy?”

“Of course,” said Black, and the
ghost of a grin flitted across his gaunt features. He, too, began rolling up
his sleeves; Amelia had a feeling what was
coming next. “Shall we kill him together?”

“Yes, I think so,” said Remus
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 him with the utmost revulsion, unsure what disgusted him more.
He settled for the simplest.

“I let you sleep in my bed!”
he said.

“Kind boy… kind master…”
Pettigrew crawled towards Ron, “you won’t let
them do it… I was your rat… I was a good pet…”

“If you made a better rat than
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, looking ever
more pathetic, turned on his knees, staggered forwards and seized the hem of
Hermione’s robes.

“Sweet girl… clever girl… you –
you won’t let them… help me…”

Amelia’s
wand was pressed firmly against his throat; tears still shone on her face, but
her wand and voice were quite steady.

“Touch her or Ron
again and you’re a dead rat,” she said, coldly.

Hermione pulled her robes out of
Pettigrew’s clutching hands and backed away against the wall, looking horrified
at him, what Lupin and Black were clearly about to do and Amelia’s sincere lack
of sympathy.

Pettigrew knelt, trembling
uncontrollably, and turned his head slowly towards Harry.
Amelia tightened her grip on her wand and ever
so slightly increased the pressure against his neck.

“Harry…”
he choked. “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, stretching his arms out to him, pleading. “Harry,
James wouldn’t have wanted me killed… James
would have understood, Harry… he would have
shown me mercy…”

“Perhaps up until the point where
you murdered his wife and child,” said Amelia,
conversationally.

Both Sirius and Remus strode
forwards, seized Pettigrew’s shoulders and threw him backwards to the floor. He
sat there, twitching with terror, staring up at them.

“You sold Lily
and James to Voldemort,” said Sirius, who was
shaking too. “Do you deny it?”

Amelia
was suddenly reminded of the traditional Anglo-Saxon trials; this would only
lead to Pettigrew’s execution. That part of her brain that ran while the rest
of her concentrated on the matter in hand examined her conscience: she felt no
pity for Pettigrew, she realised, only for the men whose lives he had so
willingly destroyed.

On the floor, Pettigrew burst
into tears. It was horrible to watch: he looked 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.”

This, Amelia
felt, was probably the only truth Pettigrew had told in twelve years.

“I never meant it to happen… He
Who Must Not Be Named forced me –”

“DON’T LIE!” bellowed Sirius.
“YOU’D BEEN PASSING INFORMATION TO HIM FOR A YEAR BEFORE LILY
AND JAMES DIED! YOU WERE HIS SPY!”

All the fragments of a life,
Amelia thought sadly, the smiles, the tears,
the laughter… always coming to this… only this.

“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,” he
whined. “He would have killed me, Sirius!”

I hope, that when I face
death, I shall stand before him and not grovel, she thought. Amelia
looked around her, briefly. It struck her that Harry,
Ron and Hermione, her Hermione, would carry the events that happened in this gloomy,
desperate room with them for the rest of their lives.

“THEN YOU SHOULD HAVE DIED!”
roared Sirius. “DIED RATHER THAN BETRAY YOUR FRIENDS, AS WE WOULD HAVE DONE FOR
YOU!”

Sirius and Remus stood shoulder
to shoulder, wands raised.

It should not end like this.

“You should have realised,” said
Remus quietly. “If Voldemort didn’t kill you, we would. Goodbye, Peter.”

Hermione covered her face with
her hands and turned to the wall.

“No,” Amelia
said, as Harry yelled it. The boy ran forwards,
placing himself in front of Pettigrew, facing the wands. “You can’t kill him,”
he said breathlessly. “You can’t.”

Remus and Sirius 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… just 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 his best
friends to become killers – just for you.”

Not for the first time, Amelia
was intensely proud to know this boy.

Nobody moved or made a sound
except Pettigrew, whose breath was coming in wheezes as he clutched his chest.
Sirius and Remus were looking at each other. Then, with one movement, they
lowered their wands; their reaffirmed attachment was obvious to anyone.

“You’re the only person who has
the right to decide, Harry,” said Sirius. “But
think… think what he did…”

“He can go to Azkaban,” Harry
repeated. “If anyone deserves that place, he does.”

Amelia
crossed the room and laid a hand on Remus’s arm.

“You’re not a killer, Remus,” she
said softly. “Neither of you are.”

Pettigrew was still wheezing on
the floor behind Harry.

Remus looked from Amelia,
to Harry, to Sirius and back to Harry
once more.

“Very well,” he said. “Stand
aside, Harry.”

Harry
hesitated.

“I’m going to tie him up,” said
Remus. “That’s all, I swear.”

Harry
stepped out of the way. Thin cords shot from Remus’s wand this time, and next
moment, Pettigrew was wriggling on the floor, bound and gagged.

“But if you transform, Peter,”
Sirius growled, 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 Remus, suddenly
business-like. “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. Remus 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?” asked Hermione in a small voice,
looking down at Snape’s prone figure.

“There’s nothing seriously wrong
with him,” said Amelia, bending over Severus
and checking his pulse. “You were just a little – over-enthusiastic. Still out
cold.” She looked at the others in an appraising manner. “Er – perhaps it will
be best if we don’t revive him until we’re safely back in the castle. We can
take him like this…”

Remus 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.

“Is that the best you can do for
him?” asked Amelia, eyebrows raised.

“Yes, actually,” replied Remus,
apparently still smarting over the Potions Master’s earlier taunts; Sirius
smirked.

“Hmmm.” Amelia
said, as he picked up the Invisibility Cloak and tucked it safely in his
pocket, not meeting her gaze.

“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 Remus.

“And me,” said Ron
savagely, limping forwards.

Sirius conjured heavy manacles
from thin air; soon Pettigrew was upright again, left arm chained to Remus’s
right, right arm to Ron’s left. Ron’s
face was set. He appeared 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 bottle-brush tail held jauntily high.