Chapter 269

The people present stared in stunned silence as the situation shifted abruptly, watching Professor Snape’s form dissolve into stars and vanish into the distant night sky...

After a long silence, Hermione was the first to speak, “Will Professor Snape be all right?” she said with difficulty, “He was blasted that high...”

“Probably not,” Harry said uncertainly; though he often clashed with Professor Snape, he still didn’t wish him any harm.

“The professor kept his wand in hand—he could’ve cast a Levitation Charm midair and landed safely,” Ron suddenly said.

Harry and Hermione realized it made sense, but then they worried—how would the school punish them for treating a teacher this way?

They grew increasingly uneasy, above all because they still weren’t sure if they’d done the right thing.

But Harry quickly realized worrying about that was premature—they had more urgent matters to handle.

Harry gave Hermione and Ron a subtle glance, then looked toward Lupin and Black.

At Hermione and Harry’s command, the two battered Animagi slipped between the two groups, watching Lupin and Black warily.

Both had already regained their freedom; Lupin even held a wand—but neither attempted to flee or make any move against Harry.

This made Harry believe their earlier words even more.

“Thank you for standing against Professor Snape on our behalf,” Lupin said first, lowering his wand to show goodwill, though his eyes kept flicking toward the two Animagi. “You made the right choice. Don’t fear Snape’s retaliation—truth will make him forgive you.”

“How do I know you’re not lying?” Ron said stubbornly; he still couldn’t believe that Scabbers was an Animagus—let alone the legendary hero, Peter Pettigrew, thought dead.

“In the face of truth, lies mean nothing!” Black fixed his gaze on Ron’s chest and spoke short and firm.

Lupin said, “May I see the rat?”

Ron hesitated, then reached into his robe. Scabbers appeared, thrashing wildly in despair. Ron had to grip his long, bald tail to keep him from escaping.

Crookshanks appeared at Ron’s feet, staring at Scabbers and lowly hissing.

“Now is the time we provide evidence,” Black said. “You—child—give me Peter. Now!”

Ron pulled Scabbers even closer to his chest.

“I still can’t believe Scabbers is an Animagus,” Hermione suddenly said. “When Allen prepared to become one, the most critical requirement was resisting the wild spirit’s corruption during transformation—and that resistance was measured in hours. Allen could barely hold out for thirty hours.”

“If Scabbers were an Animagus, he couldn’t have maintained his animal form for over a decade. No one could do that.”

Black glanced at Hermione in surprise. “Didn’t know you knew that. But theoretically, holding it that long is possible.”

“I think fear drove him to it,” Black said, his voice sharp as a blade. “Fear made him betray his friends and join the Dark Lord. Fear kept him as a rat for over a decade after the Dark Lord’s fall!” He glared at the rat on Ron’s chest with murderous intent.

Then he explained how he’d recognized Scabbers from newspaper clippings.

Harry immediately recalled that Scabbers had grown listless since this year—he’d assumed it was from Crookshanks’ harassment, but now he realized Scabbers had been sick even before meeting Crookshanks...

Ever since the Weasleys returned from Egypt... ever since Black escaped...

He told Ron and Hermione what he’d just realized; Ron, upon hearing it, began to waver.

“If I give him to you, what will you do to him?” Ron asked Lupin nervously.

“Force him to reveal his true form,” Lupin said firmly. “If he’s truly a rat, it won’t harm him.”

Ron hesitated, then finally handed over Scabbers. Lupin took him. Scabbers shrieked and writhed, his tiny black eyes bulging.

“Ready, Sirius?” Lupin said, handing his wand to Sirius. “I’ll let you have this moment.”

Black took the wand. His damp eyes suddenly blazed with fire.

He pointed the wand at Scabbers. A blue-white light shot from the tip. For a moment, Scabbers hung suspended in midair, his small black body twisting violently—

Ron screamed—

The rat fell to the floor. A blinding flash—and then, like a sped-up film of a tree growing—

A head emerged, then limbs stretched out. Moments later, a man stood where Scabbers had been, hunched and twisting his hands nervously.

Crookshanks growled contemptuously on the floor, his fur standing on end.

The man was short, barely taller than Harry and Hermione. His thin, pale hair was wild and matted, with a large bald patch on top. He looked like a fat man who’d lost weight rapidly. His skin was filthy, nearly matching Scabbers’ fur. His pointed nose and watery little eyes still bore the unmistakable traits of a rat.

He looked around at them, breathing weakly and rapidly.

“Oh, hello, Peter,” Lupin said cheerfully, as if rat-to-classmate transformations happened daily. “Long time no see.”

“S-Sirius... L-Lupin...” Peter Pettigrew’s voice was shrill. His eyes darted quickly toward the door. “My friends—my old friends—”

Black raised his wand arm, but Lupin seized his wrist and gave him a warning look.

Then Lupin turned back to Peter Pettigrew, his tone casual and light. “It’s hard to imagine the hero the Ministry honored spent twelve years as someone’s pet rat.”

Peter Pettigrew desperately pleaded his case, but his excuses crumbled before the facts.

He begged everyone for mercy—but no one forgave him. Ron felt sick just looking at him.