Ron hesitated, still holding Scabbers tightly in his hand, still trying to take in all that Black had just said. Black remained calm, with his hand outstretched, waiting for Ron. All was silent inside the Shrieking Shack, everyone waiting to see what would happen. Reluctantly but inevitably, Ron offered up his rat.
Scabbers desperately tried to make one last break for freedom, but Black seized upon the rat, gripping it sharply between his fingers. “Remus, would you do the honours?” he asked, passing Lupin his wand. Black pinned the rat to the wooden floor of the shack while Lupin raised the wand and pointed it at Scabbers. Suddenly the rat began to grow and morph, just as the dog had done a few minutes before. Black’s hands were thrown back as the form outgrew his grasp. In an instant, the shape had resolved itself into that of a man, hunched on all fours on the floor.
He was short, with a pasty round face and small, squinting eyes. His hairline was receding atop his head. His clothes were filthy and his fingernails, Neville could see, were black with dirt. As he raised his head, he wrinkled his nose slightly and Neville got the curious impression that he looked as much like a rat now as he did before.
He immediately tried to bolt for the hole by where Neville was standing, but Black grabbed him by the collar and hauled him back. “Welcome back, Peter,” he said without a trace of warmth. “So nice of you to join us at last.” Neville looked across at Ron. His face was a picture of horror. Neville though of how much Ron had cared for Scabbers. He couldn’t imagine what he was thinking now.
Black and Lupin forced Pettigrew into the chair Lupin had just vacated and, taking back his wand, Black conjured ropes which bound Pettigrew tightly to the chair. The rat-man struggled feebly, with a pitiful, pathetic look on his face. “Sirius, Remus, look, I can explain…” he whimpered.
“Can you, Peter?” snapped Black, jabbing his wand into Pettigrew’s forehead. “Can you really? What could you possibly say?”
Pettigrew flinched. “I-I had to. I had no choice. Please, Sirius…”
“No choice?” bellowed Black furiously. “No choice? There’s always a choice, Peter. Only a coward pretends otherwise. Is that how you’ve slept at night for twelve years? All those crimes, all that suffering, it doesn’t matter because you had no CHOICE?” He seemed ready to bore his wand in Pettigrew’s skull, but Lupin laid a hand on his shoulder to calm him.
“Let me talk to him,” he said gently. There seemed no anger in his voice, but there was a steady determination. Black relented and stepped back to allow Lupin to stand in front of Pettigrew. For the first few seconds Lupin said nothing but merely stared into Pettigrew’s eyes. Pettigrew could not bear to hold his cold stare for long and quickly looked away. Finally, Lupin spoke. “How did You-Know-Who find you, Peter?”
Pettigrew kept his head turned away. “I-I don’t know what you’re talking…”
Lupin moved to meet his eye again. “How, Peter?” he repeated calmly.
The calm focus of Lupin seemed to unnerve Pettigrew completely and he collapsed into pitiful sobbing. “Two Death Eaters broke into my house one night,” he mumbled between the sobs. “They knew where I lived. They dragged me before him. He offered me my life, Remus. All he wanted was information. Don’t you see, Remus? He tortured me. He would have kept torturing me until I was dead. The pain, Remus, you couldn’t imagine the pain.”
“Don’t speak to me of pain, Peter,” said Remus calmly and flatly. “You can’t teach me the first thing about pain. Do you know how painful it is to have your flesh rip apart once a month to release the wolf inside you? Do you know how painful it is to wake up in the morning not knowing what damage you’ve done, and to whom? How painful it is to be betrayed by your friend and abandoned by everyone you know? How painful it is to endure twelve years in Azkaban, with only darkness and despair around and within you, hoping only that death will release you from your plight? Don’t talk to me about pain, Peter. You have no right.”
Pettigrew fell silent and did not reply. Lupin continued. “So you bought your life with information. But that wasn’t enough, was it Peter? You-Know-Who wanted more, and you were only too happy to oblige. You became his servant, his spy, and one by one our comrades began to fall.” Pettigrew did not contradict Lupin’s words. “And then came Frank and Alice. What happened there, Peter? Why the elaborate charade, and what happened after I had gone?”
“The Dark Lord summoned me,” replied Pettigrew thickly. “He said he had determined that the Longbottoms must die, and that he must do the deed personally. He knew they were in hiding, and that there were defences set up by the Order. He ordered me to break down those defences, and I said I would find a way to lure away the guard. Don’t you see, I saved your life, Remus. If he had come with you still there, he would have killed you, and any of the Order you summoned to help. None of you could defeat him. I lured you away, removed the warning charms on the house and summoned the Dark Lord. And then I left, I swear. I don’t know what happened in that house. I didn’t find out the Dark Lord was gone until later.”
“You’re still trying to squirm your way out of this, aren’t you Peter?” said Lupin. “Your chivalry in saving my life doesn’t wash. Why didn’t you ask Dumbledore if you could join the guard duty then await your turn before calling You-Know-Who? Because that would have instantly blown your cover. You needed a fall guy; someone to take the blame, someone you knew would trust you enough to tell you when it was his turn to guard. Someone like me. And then when I came after you, with your master gone, you faked your death to ensure I was the one who went to Azkaban in your place. Perhaps it would have been kinder if I had been killed, Peter.
“And so for twelve years you’ve lived as a rat, hiding yourself away. You wheedled your way into an innocent family, and waited for your master’s return. It must have been quite a shock when Ron here came into possession of our map. Your secret was nearly out. So you made sure you doctored the map to cover your tracks, didn’t you?”
Pettigrew nodded feebly. “In his first year. I borrowed his wand while he slept.” He turned his head towards Ron. “I was a good rat though, wasn’t I? I never hurt you, never did anything to you. But I had to hide somewhere.” Ron, still nursing his injured leg, refused to even look at Pettigrew.
“Then you ran away last summer to avoid Sirius,” continued Lupin, ignoring Pettigrew’s comment. “You knew you’d be recognised if Ron turned up at Sirius’ home with you. But we found out anyway. It’s taken us months to run you to ground. For months I’ve waited for this moment. Do you have nothing else to say, Peter?”
Pettigrew’s head was bowed, he would not look up. “I had to,” he murmured, as if they were the only words he knew how to say. “I’m sorry, but I had to.”
“You’re SORRY?” exploded Black, who had been pacing up and down behind Lupin, his impatience and anger visibly building. “You have the nerve to sit there and say you’re sorry? Frank and Alice, dead. The McKinnons, all dead. Edgar Bones, dead. Those eleven Muggles you never even gave a second thought about, all dead. All by your actions, your treachery. Can you say sorry to them? Can you? Look,” he shouted, pointing at Neville, “there’s Frank and Alice’s son, right there. The boy whose parents you took away. The boy you tried to help kill. I dare you to apologise to him. I DARE YOU!”
Pettigrew only remained silent, his head down. “Remus, get out of the way. It’s time,” said Sirius darkly.
Lupin stood to one side. “He’s all yours, Sirius. Do it.”
Black stood over Pettigrew and levelled his wand at the man’s head. “Peter Pettigrew,” he said, “you have confessed to the crimes of treachery towards your fellow wizards, betrayal of your friends, and murder of innocent men and women. The penalty for these crimes is death. Do you have any last words?”
There was a shocked silence around the shack, no one moved or spoke, no one hardly dared to breathe. Neville could tell by the tone of Black’s voice that he meant exactly what he said. Pettigrew knew it too and began to shake with fear, tears trickling down his cheeks. “Sirius, Sirius, no you wouldn’t. Not after all we’ve been through together. Not in front of the children, surely.” He struggled feebly in the bonds tying him to the chair and his eyes darted around the room, looking at each of the people there for a way out. “Remus, Remus, you wouldn’t let him, you’re too good, you’re too noble,” he pleaded. Lupin turned away silently.
Pettigrew continued round the room. “Ron, I was your pet all those years. Doesn’t that count for anything? Hermione, you wouldn’t watch a man die, would you? Harry, for the sake of your father, don’t let his best friend be killed.” None of them said anything. “Neville, please show mercy, please. They’ll listen to you. What would your parents have done? Please, I don’t want to die.”
Neville studied the face of his parents’ betrayer. He had no idea what his parents would have done; he never knew them. This man was the reason why. It would be just to kill him, surely. It was what he deserved. One death for another.
“Enough,” said Black. “The four of you can go; you don’t have to stay to watch. Go straight back to the castle. I’ll meet you there when it’s done. Go on, go.”
“No,” said Neville suddenly. “Don’t do it.” Everyone stopped to look at him. The words had almost sprung from his mouth unbidden, but the longer they hung in the air, the more he was convinced they were right. “Don’t kill him. Let him live.”
“Neville,” said Black, not lowering his wand, “he deserves to die.”
“Maybe,” replied Neville, “but no more death, please, no more. Enough people have died already. What will happen to you if you kill him? Look, we’ll take him back with us. They’ll put him on trial, make him tell the truth. That way Mr Lupin will be free. Isn’t that better?”
Black hesitated for a moment, gazing at Neville. Then slowly he lowered his wand. “Okay, Neville, it is your right to decide. We’ll take him back with us. You owe Neville your life today, Peter. Don’t forget that.”
“Thank you,” grovelled Pettigrew to Neville.
“Shut up,” said Neville, disgusted. “If Mr Lupin’s right about Azkaban, I may not have done you a favour.”
“Maybe they’ll give you my old cell, Peter,” added Lupin. “The Dementors will be missing a soul to feast on.” Pettigrew gave no reaction.
Everybody got ready to leave the Shrieking Shack together. Lupin borrowed Hermione’s wand to conjure a rudimentary splint for Ron’s leg, and Harry and Hermione together supported Ron on their shoulders. “Sorry about that,” apologised Black. “It was the only way to get to the rat and besides, if you’d lain where you were any longer the Whomping Willow would have flattened you.”
Black unbound Pettigrew from the chair and held him at wandpoint, at the rear of the group as they left. Harry, Ron and Hermione went in the middle, and Lupin led the way with Neville. “It feels odd to leave the place,” said Lupin to Neville. “This has been my home now for months. It’s always been a part of me. It was my howls that gave the place its name, all those years ago. But it’ll be good to breathe the open air again.”
He put a hand on Neville’s shoulder as they ducked into the narrow tunnel. “You know, you sounded just like your mother back there,” he said.
Neville looked up at him in surprise. “Did you know my parents well?” he asked.
“Not as well as I might have hoped,” answered Lupin, “it was tough times, and we really didn’t have much time for friendships. Besides, they were really more part of Moody’s crowd. But they were good people, fierce fighters, and had an incredibly strong sense of justice, I know that. They would have done the same thing, I’m sure.
“I won’t say I’m happy to have him still alive, but you’re right, I can be free now. It’s been so long, I’ve almost forgotten what freedom is. The world won’t welcome me back with open arms, I know, I’m still what I am, but I have a chance to start again. Thank you, Neville.”
The low ceiling in the tunnel meant Lupin had to crawl on all fours for much of the way, and Neville had to help him occasionally when he slipped or stumbled. He was tired and physically weak, but not too proud to accept help. Neville found himself rather admiring the uncomplaining persistence of the man, and almost felt angry with himself for fearing and hating him for so long. He knew it was going to take a long time to come to terms with what he had learned in the last hour. But one thing he had learned was how important the truth was to him, and he vowed never to let the truth about anything be hidden from him again, so long as he could help it. He was all too aware of how painful it was not to know.
He looked forward to Pettigrew’s day in court, to Lupin’s exoneration, so the world would finally be set to rights again and the ghosts of his past could be laid to rest. The weight that had oppressed him for the last year now felt lifted and he felt for the first time in long while that he could actually be happy again.
When they reached the base of the Whomping Willow, Lupin went ahead of Neville and touched a knot on the tree’s trunk as he climbed out which, he said, would stop it attacking. He helped Neville up out of the hole. Neville was at first surprised that it was now dark; the sun must have fully set while they were in the Shrieking Shack and now the stars were out, shining brightly between the clouds in the night sky. A warm gentle breeze was blowing through the branches of the willow.
Ron was the next to emerge, flanked by Harry and Hermione. They let him rest at the foot of the tree for a moment, while they waited for Black and Pettigrew. They arrived a few seconds later, Pettigrew first, Black with his wand at Pettigrew’s back. Lupin grabbed hold of his arm roughly to make sure he didn’t try to run. Pettigrew looked despondent and didn’t try to struggle.
“Is everyone all right?” asked Black. “Let’s get going. Keep a hold on him, Remus.” But they had barely begun to move when there was a fresh gust of wind at their back. Behind them the clouds parted and Neville saw a shaft of light reflect off Lupin’s face. He looked back to see what it was. Poking above the high mountains, now revealed between the wispy clouds, the moon was rising. It took a moment for Neville to register the horrible truth. The moon was full.
Lupin turned his pale face into the moonlight. “No,” he cried, “no, not right now, not now. Please not now.” Neville saw Lupin’s skin beginning to bleach in the light. He dropped his grip on Pettigrew’s arm and his hands went up to his face, feeling for the growth of hair. A visible spasm of pain shot through his body.
Black ran to his friend’s side. “Moony, Moony, hold on,” he urged. “Look at me, hold on. Have you taken enough Wolfsbane? Can you keep control?”
“I…don’t…know,” gasped Lupin, his face contorted into a grimace. The Wolfsbane potion kept the sufferer in charge of themselves, but only if enough had been taken in the time leading up the full moon. It did not stop the transformation, nor dull the terrible pain. Lupin doubled up clutching his chest and let out a terrible scream.
Then suddenly several things happened at once. Pettigrew, released from Lupin’s grasp, swung a punch at the distracted Black. The punch was weak but Black was caught by surprise and went down, his wand slipping from his grasp. Pettigrew pounced for the wand, while Harry and Hermione struggled to draw theirs. Lupin, now on all fours, writhed in agony, his clothes splitting apart, fur growing on his body, his face contorting into its new shape. Neville stood rooted to the spot, unable to react quickly enough. But also he felt a familiar prickling on the back of his neck, a sense of approaching cold and dread.
Pettigrew, sprawling on the grass, raised Black’s wand at the same time as Harry and Hermione raised theirs. He fired a quick spell at Harry and the jet caught Harry in the shoulder. Harry tumbled backwards and fell away down a steep slope, disappearing into the darkness. But Hermione cried, “Expelliarmus!” and the wand sprang out of Pettigrew’s hand. Neville, backing away from the emerging werewolf, looked behind him to confirm what he knew he would see. Across the Hogwarts grounds, the Dementors were coming.
Pettigrew didn’t wait for Hermione’s next spell. He set off at a run down the hill, his body shrinking as he went. By the time he passed by Ron, who was still unable to stand, he was a rat once more.
Black was just regaining his feet, it had all happened so fast. The now fully transformed werewolf was curled up on the ground, whimpering. Black staggered over to it. “Moony?” he said. “Moony, are you there?” The werewolf looked up and struggled up onto all fours. For a moment Neville thought it was about to spring on Black, but it just looked into his eyes and nodded its head. The Wolfsbane had worked.
“Professor, look!” yelled Neville pointing behind him. Dementors, maybe a dozen of them, moving at incredible speed, were almost on top of the group. The hooded figures sensed their long-sought prey and would not discriminate between souls when there was a feast to be made.
Frantically, Black cast around for his wand. “Where’s Harry?” he cried in panic, seeing that he was missing.
“He fell,” answered Ron, trying desperately to pull himself up and raise his wand, though there was nothing he could do against the Dementors.
At last Black pulled up his wand out of the long grass. “Remus, go,” he cried to the werewolf. “Go after Peter. Don’t let him get away. I’ll protect the kids. Go!” The werewolf sprang away in the direction the rat had gone, its nose to the ground. Neville’s eyes darted between it and the approaching Dementors. Then all of a sudden, he broke and dashed off after Lupin.
“Neville, come back!” cried Hermione, but Neville didn’t listen. He wasn’t even thinking about what he was doing. It was an instinctive reaction. Was he running from the Dementors or running to help Lupin? He didn’t know. Probably a bit of both. It would be far too unfair if anything was to happen to Lupin now, and he certainly didn’t want Pettigrew to get away. He ran as fast as his short legs would let him, trying to keep up with the werewolf.
Behind him he heard Black shout, “Expecto Patronum!” and felt the flash of light at his back. He hoped they would be all right, but he didn’t stop to look back. Ahead of him the werewolf ran forward, its nose sniffing for a scent, down towards the lake. It reached the lake shore a little before Neville and began to cast about for its next move. In doing so, it saw Neville running up and stopped for a moment, apparently shocked to see him. Then just as Neville approached, it gave a series of loud howls that made Neville stop and back away for a moment, before he realised what Lupin was trying to tell him.
In his haste chasing after Lupin he had not noticed the cold descending on him once again. He looked round behind him. Coming along the shore of the lake towards him were dozens and dozens of Dementors, far more than he had ever seen before. This was the majority of those stationed at Hogwarts; only a few had stayed to harass Black, Hermione and Ron. The rest were come to claim their prize. They would not care about Lupin’s transformation; they were interested only in the soul, not the flesh.
They swarmed around and over Neville and Lupin, draining all warmth, chilling the heart. Neville looked at Lupin, and in the eyes of the wolf he thought he could see the fear and terror of the man. Few knew Dementors better than Remus Lupin. All hope and happiness that Neville had felt a few minutes before was gone, and the defiant last cries of his mother began to sound inside his head.
Those cries awakened his own defiance and he drew his wand. Aiming it wildly, he cried, “Expecto Patronum!” and as he did so, he thought of his parents, the fighters who would never give up. A ball of light bloomed from his wand, strong enough to cause the first three Dementors to hesitate, but all too soon it faded. It was actually the best Patronus Neville had ever cast, but it was far too weak to have much effect. The next Dementor swooped in over Neville and he slipped to the ground.
Next to him the werewolf clawed feebly at their attackers, but to no avail. They were overwhelmed. The Dementors, having prepared their victims, would now move in to feed. Neville knew what was coming: the Dementor’s Kiss, the sucking out of the victim’s soul. He knew it was considered a fate worse than death; for the Boy-Who-Lived, it would be one final irony. He cursed his stupidity in running after Lupin, and his incompetence that meant he could do nothing but lie there and share his fate.
A Dementor stood over him and threw back its hood, revealing the decaying flesh within. The world began to fade from in front of Neville’s eyes, and he hoped that the end would come swiftly. The Dementor leaned in.
Suddenly there was light, a bright, blinding light from across the lake, tearing into the darkness. With his last strength Neville turned his head to see the source. Dimly, hazily, down the shore of the lake, he saw a boy standing with an outstretched wand. The light was erupting, flowing forth from the wand, resolved in a vague shape something like an animal. “Harry!” Neville tried to shout, but his voice was too weak to be heard. “Harry!”
Neville saw Harry direct his wand and the animal sprang forward, the light flowing over the surface of the lake. The Dementors broke and scattered, and the light washed over Neville. He felt himself drowning in that light and as he slipped away, he kept his eyes on the dim, fading form of Harry, still with his wand out in front of him. Neville’s last thought was a silent offer of thanks to Harry the hero, before he gently slipped into unconsciousness.
Neville Longbottom and the Prisoner of Azkaban by Sonorus
Chapter Notes: In which Pettigrew is revealed and forced to tell the truth, and disaster strikes.