Harry’s wand was out in front of him before anyone else could react, pointed straight into Lupin’s face. “You get away from Ron!” he yelled furiously, advancing on the convict.
“H-Harry, don’t you know who that is?” stammered Neville, backing away towards the tunnel again, too scared to draw his own wand. But if Harry did know, he didn’t reply or react; his eyes burned with fury.
Lupin for his part was silent and still as a stone. His frame was slight and weak. His once light brown hair was now a filthy and bedraggled mess, half grey, half black with dirt. His clothes were in rags and his feet were bare, but about his shoulders was wrapped a smarter-looking woollen coat to keep him warm. There was a haunted, horrified look in his eyes as he stared at Harry in astonishment. “My God, James,” he croaked in a thin, hoarse voice, and staggered back a pace. “It… it can’t be, no…” He steadied himself and looked closer into Harry’s eyes. “It’s… it’s Harry, isn’t it? You must be Harry.”
Harry was taken aback for a moment, but kept his wand pointed between Lupin’s eyes. “How do you know my name?” he demanded, but before Lupin could react, the black dog leapt between them. Barking loudly, it snapped at Harry’s legs and tried to drive him away from Lupin. Harry tried to stand his ground, but the dog was very large and snarled viciously. “Call off your dog, you coward,” snapped Harry.
Half a smile crept across Lupin’s face. “You really don’t know, do you? You have no idea. Leave now and you won’t be harmed. We’ve got what we came for.”
“What? What did you come for?” asked Harry, bewildered.
“Me,” said Neville quietly from the corner. Everyone turned; up to that point none had paid him any attention. There was an odd calmness in Neville’s voice, a resignation, as if he had passed beyond fear for a moment to somewhere else. “This is the man who betrayed my parents, Harry. He’s been looking for me for a long time and somehow I knew he’d find me in the end. Go on, the rest of you go. Take Ron and get out. It’s only me he wants.”
“Like hell we’re leaving you,” answered Harry, and didn’t move or lower his wand.
“We’re not going anywhere,” said Ron, bravely trying to lift himself up onto one knee and draw his own wand. Hermione said nothing, but stepped firmly in front of Neville, defiantly meeting Lupin’s eye. Neville was shocked and confused. He’d given them a way out. This wasn’t their fight. What were they doing?
Lupin lowered his head and looked down at the dog. “If that’s the way you want it,” he muttered. “Come on, old friend, we can’t keep our secret any more. They deserve the truth.”
The form of the dog in the middle of the room began to twist and distort, standing up on its hind legs and growing taller. Its hair faded away and clothes formed to take its place. Its face shrank and flattened and turned pale. Within barely a second where there had once been the animal now stood a man, smartly dressed and handsome with black hair and a twinkle in his grey eyes. The man was Professor Black.
Harry fell backwards and almost fainted in shock. The others stood in disbelief as Black embraced Lupin warmly. “We’ve done it at last,” he said. “After all these months, it’s done.”
Harry could barely articulate a response. “H-h-how… w-w-what..?” he spluttered incoherently. The rest were equally dumbstruck.
“Harry, listen to me,” said Black, crouching down to look in Harry’s eyes. Harry backed away in horror. “Listen,” pleaded Black. “This man,” he pointed up at Lupin, “is innocent. I swear on my life, this man is no murderer. I can explain. Just let me explain.” He reached into his robe and took out his wand, offering it to Harry. “Take it,” he said. “Take it, so you know I can do you no harm. No one’s going to hurt you or anyone else.”
Confused, Harry took the wand and scrambled back to his feet, lowering his own wand. “Harry, don’t!” cried Neville. “He did betray my parents, I know it!”
“No,” replied Black. “That’s what I and everyone else believed too, for a long time. But he didn’t.” Lupin had collapsed into a wooden chair set up against the wall. He looked haggard and tired and his eyes were trained intently on Ron.
“I think we should hear him out,” said Harry. “He’s my godfather, Neville. I trust him.”
“But apparently he never told you he was an Animagus,” put in Hermione. “Are you registered, Professor?”
Black smiled. “Very astute of you, Hermione. No, I’m not. Until today, only five people knew of my ability. I’m sorry I never told you, Harry, but it would have led to some awkward questions.”
“And this situation doesn’t?” exclaimed Ron. “If someone doesn’t bloody well start explaining things, starting with why you thought it necessary to try and rip my leg off, my head’s going to explode.”
Black sighed. “I think it’s best if I start from the beginning,” he began. “I guess it starts with this.” He reached into his robe again and pulled out a piece of parchment, covered in intricate lines and tiny writing.
“Our map!” said Harry.
“Our map,” replied Black. He pointed to the names at the top. “Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs. Didn’t you ever wonder who they were, Harry?”
Harry’s jaw dropped. “They were you? But we never… I mean Fred, George, Ron and I, we took the names, but we guessed they were someone else before us. You?”
Black looked at his godson and grinned. “What name did you choose, Harry?” he asked.
“Prongs.”
“Naturally. That was your father’s name, Harry. You know that Patronus you can almost produce? I’ll bet it’s a stag. Prongs lives on.” Harry was stunned into uncharacteristic speechlessness.
“It was our first day at Hogwarts that the four of us met,” explained Black. “Remus, Peter, Sirius and James, what a quartet we made. We were the best of friends immediately. The terror of the school they called us, eh Remus?” Lupin did not reply. “The pranks we pulled, the mischief we made, it was legendary. I’ve seen some of the stuff you youngsters have got up to, Harry, and it’s a good start but it’s not a patch on what we could do. The Marauders we called ourselves, and we made this map to aid our mischief-making. But one of us had a secret.
“It was in our second year that we discovered Remus was a werewolf. Every month at the full moon Dumbledore had arranged that he would come here through that tunnel to undergo his transformation in relative safety. It wasn’t too hard for us to figure out what was going on. We promised him we would keep his secret and we offered to help. In secret we studied to become Animagi, so we could come down here with him and keep him safe, without risk to ourselves. My form’s a dog, as you’ve seen. James’ was a stag and Peter’s… well, we’ll come to that later.”
He held up the Marauder’s Map and pointed to the names. “Moony the werewolf, Padfoot the dog, Prongs the stag. Peter was Wormtail. All through our school years we were together and nothing could separate us. And when we left Hogwarts, we all joined the Order of the Phoenix.
“The war was at its height at the time and friends were few and trust hard to come by. Some of us drifted apart a little, especially Remus from the rest of us. It’s tougher than you can imagine being a werewolf in the outside world. James married Lily, of course, and you were born, Harry, the one ray of light in those dark times. But then tragedy came.
“We had suspected there was a traitor among us for some time, and for one reason or another suspicions were turned towards Remus. Then came the night of your parents’ murder, Neville, followed by Peter’s death and Remus was arrested. He was thrown in Azkaban without trial, without a chance to defend himself, and none of us doubted his guilt.”
“Then Peter was Peter Pettigrew!” exclaimed Neville, remembering the name. “I-I overheard about him,” he explained.
“Yes he is,” answered Sirius gravely. “Shortly after that, James and Lily were attacked, and my world fell to pieces. All three of my best friends were gone, or so it seemed, and I was left with Harry as my only lifeline.” There was the suspicion of tears at the corners of Black’s eyes. “You helped me rebuild my life, Harry. Caring for you gave it meaning, and I made a promise that nothing would ever happen to you, but I kept my past from you. It was too painful to remember. Then last summer I learned something that turned my world upside down again.”
Black wheeled round to look at Ron. “Do you want to know what Peter’s Animagus form was?” he said, pointing at Ron’s hands. “It was a rat.”
“Scabbers?” cried Ron. “But he’s just my rat. We’ve had him for years.” Scabbers wriggled furiously in Ron’s hands, but Ron kept a tight hold.
“Let me guess, twelve years?” said Black. “What a remarkably long-lived rat you have, Ron. Trust me, I know Wormtail. I’d recognise that rat anywhere. Do you remember last summer Ron, when you came to stay with me and Harry? The first few weeks you wouldn’t stop talking about the rat you’d lost, how it had escaped before you left Hogwarts. You even gave me a detailed description of it, the scrawny body, the twisted tail, the missing toe. I knew at once that Scabbers was Pettigrew, but that could only mean one thing. Remus was innocent. My past had come crashing back down on top of me and I knew I had to act.”
Black went over to where a crude bed had been laid out in the far corner of the shack. Next to the bed was a small wooden table upon which were several small bottles and jars. Most were empty, but some were half full of a dark-coloured potion. Black picked one up. “This is Wolfsbane potion,” he said. “A fairly recent invention; it doesn’t cure lycanthropy but it alleviates some of the effects. The sufferer retains mental control during their transformation and can actually direct their own actions. In mid-July I arranged for a letter and a bottle of this to be smuggled into Azkaban for Remus. I told him I knew he was innocent, that Peter was alive, and to take the potion before the next full moon. He did and was able to escape past the Dementors in his wolf form. I met him over on the Scottish coast when he came ashore. He was a wreck.”
Black looked sadly at Lupin, still sat in the chair, silent, head down. “It’s a terrible place, Azkaban, terrible,” he continued. “Hundreds of Dementors surround the prisoners day and night. They drain every last drop of happiness from their victims, all colour, all warmth, all hope. Many go mad, but most just freeze inside, until living seems like too much of a burden and death is welcomed with open arms. Twelve years he’d been in there.”
“My God,” said Hermione, horrified. “How did he survive?”
“I didn’t,” answered Lupin weakly. He had been silent during all of Black’s explanation and everyone was startled to hear him speak. His voice was cracked and hoarse and as he looked up his haunted eyes betrayed the pain his face was trying to hide. “I didn’t,” he repeated more forcefully and a chill ran down Neville’s spine. “The wolf kept me alive. When all I wanted was to crawl into a corner and die, the animal inside me kept me strong. It fought for life, and the Dementors could not touch it. So I lived on, but I was dead inside.”
Lupin paused, as if it was a struggle to speak, or the words were too painful to say. “The night Frank and Alice were killed, I’d been assigned guard duty at their house. It was a secret location, only the Order knew where it was, and no one was supposed to know who was on guard duty each night. I’d lost contact with most of my friends and the burden of my condition was weighing heavily on me at the time. But I would still see Peter from time to time. We’d talk over old times, laugh and joke together; it was a release from the troubles of the war. At some point I must have told him where I’d be that night.
“An hour before midnight, he turned up to meet me outside the house. He told me that Dumbledore wanted to see me urgently, in the Three Broomsticks in Hogsmeade, and that I should make my way there at once. He said he’d been sent to take over guard duty. So I left and Apparated to Hogsmeade. But Dumbledore wasn’t in the Three Broomsticks and no one had seen him. I Apparated back at once, but when I got there, the house was destroyed and Frank and Alice were dead. Peter was gone. I didn’t stay to learn any more; I was in a rage. I went straight after Peter. I caught up with him in a Muggle street just round the corner from where he lived. He just stared at me blankly, as if he had no idea what I was talking about. Then, as I went for my wand, he calmly sliced off his finger, tossed it in the air and blew up the street.
“I didn’t even know if he’d survived, though I guessed he had. When they came to arrest me, I knew there was nothing I could do. No one would believe the word of a werewolf. I was just in a state of shock. I was in Azkaban before I knew what had happened. I would have grown old and died there if it wasn’t for Sirius.”
Black took up the tale once more. “Once Remus had escaped, I turned my attention to tracking down Peter. He could have been anywhere, of course, and I wanted to check that you were safe, Neville, so I paid you a visit in Huddlesby. I apologize for spooking you and your Gran like that. I foolishly allowed myself to be seen. But the greatest likelihood was that Peter was still at Hogwarts. So I applied for the Defence Against the Dark Arts position. I’m not really cut out to be a teacher, that much must be obvious after a year, but it was the only way to get into the castle. What with the curse on the job, I was bound to get it; nobody else wants it.
“As soon as I was settled in, Remus moved into the Shrieking Shack here. It’s not much, but he’s had a roof over his head and has been safe. No one can get in except through the tunnel and not many know about it. Here I could keep him supplied with food and Wolfsbane potion when he needed it. I’ve been mixing it up in my room all year using supplies I’ve nicked from Snape’s stores. That night you saw me by the Whomping Willow, Neville, I’d just come back from seeing him.
“But I couldn’t find any trace of Peter anywhere. I’d been hoping to find our map, of course, but it had gone missing. When I found out you had it, Harry, I was shocked and I’m sorry if I was hard on you. Of all the places it could turn up, I hadn’t expected that. At last I had the chance to go after Peter.”
“But there’s no Peter Pettigrew on the map,” pointed out Ron. “The label says Scabbers.”
“Of course it does!” exclaimed Black. “Don’t you see? The map never shows animals, it only shows humans and other beings, that’s how we made it. You can’t change that. But changing a name, that’s a simple matter. At some point in the last few years, Peter must have got hold of the map and altered it so his name would show up as Scabbers. Only a Marauder could do that; only we know how the map works. It had to be Peter!
“When I got the map, Peter went and did a runner again; he knew I was after him. I thought we’d lost him for good this time. But now here he’s come, right into our lap!”
There was a long pause after Black finished his tale. Everyone stood or sat silently, wondering what was going to happen next. Neville studied the faces of Black and Lupin. In spite of his fear, he found himself believing them. Black’s face was earnest and open, willing to be believed. But Lupin’s face was raw and bleak and filled with a lifetime of sadness and pain that could not be faked. For so many months he had built up an image of this man and now he was confronted with a reality that was so different from that picture. Could he really have been so wrong about Lupin? Behind the wolf, was there truly an honest man?
It was Hermione who spoke up at last with the voice of reason. “That’s quite a story, Professor Black. But can you prove it?”
“Yes I can, Hermione,” replied Black, “if Harry will allow me to take back my wand.” Slowly, uncertainly, Harry handed back the wand. Neville saw that Hermione’s hand was on her own wand, just in case.
Black turned to Ron and held out his hand. “Give me the rat, Ron,” he said calmly. “Let us bring the traitor out into the light.”
Neville Longbottom and the Prisoner of Azkaban by Sonorus
Chapter Notes: In which many secrets and truths are finally revealed within the Shrieking Shack.