“PETRIFICUS -”

 

“Expelliarmus,” Black rasped before Draco could finish the spell. His wand flew into Black’s empty hand.

 

“You,” Harry whispered, rooted in place. His heart hammered a drumbeat into his ribcage as Black took a step forward. His gaunt face split into a grin, revealing broken, yellow teeth.

 

“You’ve been so helpful, bringing him to me,” Black’s hoarse, disused voice croaked out. “So much like your father, Harry… James would have wanted you to help me…”

 

The slight against his father snapped Harry out of his daze. Fury lit his blood on fire, and all Harry knew was that he wanted Black dead more than he’d wanted anything in his life. He didn’t have his wand, but what Harry did have was that red-hot rage and his bare hands, perfectly capable of throttling Black.

 

Harry tried to lunge forwards, but Draco grabbed a fistful of his robes and yanked him back. Then, completely shocking Harry, he strode forward and placed himself between Harry and Black.

 

“You won’t touch him!” Draco’s voice was wavering, and his entire body was trembling violently, but his resolve held firm. “If you want Harry dead, you’ll have to kill me. That’s not something you’d want to do, Black. You’ll spill pure, Malfoy blood - your Dark Lord won’t take kindly to that, will he?”

 

Black stared silently at Draco for several seconds, then threw his head back. A barking laugh echoed throughout the shack.

 

“As if I’d care about a thing like that!” Black said mirthfully, shaking his head. “You’ve nothing to worry about. Draco. There will be just one murder here tonight…”

 

Draco frantically shoved at Harry, and pleaded, “Run, Harry, I’ll hold him off -”

 

“NO!” Harry bellowed. Draco’s words, a distressing parody of James’ final moments, had ignited a new wave of hatred in Harry. He felt like firecrackers were exploding inside of his head. “HE KILLED MY MUM AND DAD!”

 

With one last surge of force, Harry wrenched himself out of Draco’s grasp and hurled himself at Black. Judging by the slight widening of his eyes, Black had been caught off guard, and Harry managed to topple both of them to the ground before Black could curse him. Harry raised his fists and struck out, hitting Black in the eye socket, then the jaw…

 

But in his rush of rage, Harry had forgotten one critical factor: he was a wandless, skinny, thirteen-year-old boy up against an armed, hardened criminal. Despite the years of obvious starvation, Black was still much larger than he was, and shoved Harry into the side of the four-poster with ease. When Harry threw himself back at Black, trying to keep the man pinned down, the tip of a wand jabbed into his sternum. “FLIPENDO!” 

 

The spell hit Harry with the force of a speeding truck, hurling Harry across the room. Stars exploded behind his eyelids when his head slammed against the wall, and Harry felt something wrench unpleasantly in his ankle when his whole body weight landed on his left leg. He crumpled to the ground in a heap, a high-pitched whining in his ears drowning out all noise in the room. 

 

After about a minute, the ringing faded, and hands began to furiously shake Harry’s shoulders. He forced his eyes open, and Draco’s terrified face swam above him. Harry roughly pushed himself upright, rubbing at the sore lump on the back of his head, and slumped against the wall with his injured leg outstretched. Black watched all of this go down from his space in the shadows, Crookshanks winding between his legs. Both of the wands were pointing at Harry and Draco.

 

Harry’s anger crumbled away in a wash of despair. There was nothing to be done. They were backed into a corner, wandless, and judging by the painful throbbing in his left leg, Harry was fairly certain he’d sprained his ankle badly, if not broken it. There was no way he’d outrun Black in this state - they were stuck at the man’s mercies.

 

But perhaps there was one thing Harry could do. Under the guise of clutching at a non-existent wrist injury, Harry wrapped his fingers around the tracker bracelet and pressed his fingers to the oval carving above his pulse point. Harry hoped desperately that Snape would be able to find them before it was too late. He and Draco couldn’t take on Black, but his guardian could.

 

Black took a step forward, and Harry and Draco both flinched back.

 

“Get out,” Black ordered, gesturing  towards the staircase.

 

“I already told you that I won’t leave Harry!” Draco bellowed.

 

“You’re not needed here -”

 

“I’m not budging!” Draco shouted, squeezing Harry’s hand. His palms were coated in icy sweat.

 

“Fine,” Black said shortly. “Do what you want. I suppose you deserve to see - you deserve to see justice carried out, to hear the full story…”

 

“What more is there to hear?” Harry spat. “You killed my parents!”

 

A shadow passed over Black’s face.

 

“I don’t deny it,” he said bitterly, “but it’s not just my fault, Harry. Don’t you want the whole story? He’d hate that… Why don’t we tell him, Wormy? Let’s spill all your dirty little secrets to James’ son in your last moments…”

 

If Harry hadn’t been convinced before that Black was out of his mind, he certainly was now. Who was Wormy supposed to be, the cat? Harry didn’t know, but he wasn’t sure if there was anything to be divined from the ravings of a crazed madman, anyway.

 

“I must thank you for this, Draco,” Black said suddenly, holding up Draco’s wand. “This holly wand didn’t take kindly to what I was trying to cast on Peter… it wasn’t working at all… but this hawthorn wand? Far more responsive… I think it knows I’m a part of the family…”

 

“You’re no family of mine!” Draco shouted, hands curling into fists. “I’m nothing like you!”

 

Black shook his head once, sadly. “We are far more alike than you realise, Draco.”

 

“I would never kiss the boots of the Dark Lord,” Draco growled, “and I would never sell out my friends to him! You should be ashamed of yourself!”

 

Black stared at him for a very long moment, face oddly crumpled. He abruptly shook himself, like a dog emerging from a body of water, and turned his attention to the four poster bed. “I think everyone ought to be present for the conversation we’re about to have… let’s crack on, shall we? Are you ready to have a little chat, Wormtail?”

 

“What the hell are you on about?” Harry snapped.

 

Black ignored him completely, sunken eyes still fixated on the four poster. Harry followed Black’s gaze, and realised that the man was staring at Scabbers, still cowering in his cage. Something suddenly occurred to Harry. Scabbers was here, and so was Crookshanks, but where was the dog? Was it somehow in league with Black like Crookshanks, or had Grim escaped the strange, dilapidated building they found themselves in? Harry hadn’t spotted any exits apart from the tunnel he and Draco had entered through…

 

His musings were abruptly interrupted when Black finally made a move. Harry tensed, but Black wasn’t approaching him and Draco. Instead, he had bent down in front of the cage, his face barely an inch from it, caressing a wasted hand over the bars. Scabbers had started to squeal again. The sound was like nails on a chalkboard.

 

“I want to look you in the eyes while I do it, Peter,” Black whispered. “I want to see the look on your face as I commit the murder I was imprisoned for…”

 

“Why is he talking to Ron’s rat?” Draco whispered in a very frightened voice.

 

Black’s head snapped up, and some of the mania faded from his face. “This isn’t just any old rat, Draco. This is an Animagus.”

 

There was a long, ringing silence.

 

“You’re mental,” Draco said faintly.

 

Black chuckled. “It’s time for me to finally tell you a story for once, Draco. Petrificus totalus.”

 

Harry flinched back, expecting his limbs to lock into place, but the spell didn’t make contact with him or Draco. As it turned out, Black had never been aiming his wand at them at all. He had actually been pointing it at the rat cage, where Scabbers had frozen in place. At last, the screeching stopped. 

 

Black twirled Draco’s wand between his fingers, then hissed, “Alohomora.” 

 

The cage unlocked, and Black retrieved Scabbers by the end of his stiff tail. Black held him aloft gripped between thumb and forefinger.

 

“That can’t be an Animagus,” Harry said, staring at the frozen rat. “He’s been in Ron’s family for ages!”

 

“Twelve years, as a matter of fact,” Black said steadily. “Isn’t that right, Harry?”

 

“Well - yeah, but -”

 

“Isn’t that a strangely long time for a common old rat to live?” Black said softly. He had started to rhythmically swing Scabbers back and forth, like the pendulum of a grandfather clock. “Doesn’t that set off a couple of alarm bells in your mind that perhaps he wasn’t a real rat to begin with?”

 

Draco scoffed. “The Weasleys might be thick, but I’m sure they’d have noticed if one of their pets was an Animagus!”

 

“You didn’t,” Black said abruptly, “and we’ve spent quite a bit of time together these past few months.”

 

Draco’s mouth opened and closed soundlessly for several moments. He appeared lost for words.“Thank you for the food,” Black said, something in his hollow eyes softening, “and for the company. You were very kind to me… I’d been alone for such a long time…”

 

“You used me,” Draco whispered. His wide eyes glowed oddly in the faint moonlight. “I told you all those secrets, thinking you were Grim - I said all those thing about my life, my problems, about Harry, all so you could just use it to get to him and -”

 

“Haven’t you realised by now that Harry’s not the one I’m after?” Sirius interrupted. His eyes darted back to Scabbers again. “Enough confusion. I think it’s long past time for a little reunion with dear old Peter.”

 

Draco clutched at Harry’s arm as Black glowered at Scabbers. “Homenum revelio.” 

 

The spell hit the rat, and Sirius immediately dropped him. The second Scabbers hit the floor, he began to grow and shift before Harry’s very eyes, patchy fur melting away into flesh, limbs sprouting from places paws had once been, until a small, balding man was lying prone on the ground in Scabbers’ place. 

 

Black hadn’t been lying. Scabbers was an Animagus.

 

Harry didn’t have the foggiest idea who the man lying before him was, but judging by the loud gasp to his right, Draco did. 

 

“Peter Pettigrew!” he breathed. “He’s the Animagus?”

 

Black frowned. “I did tell you.”

 

“No, you didn’t!” Draco protested furiously. “What in Merlin’s name is going on? Peter Pettigrew is supposed to be dead!”

 

Black did not respond. He was rather preoccupied with staring at the man on the ground, lips drawn back into a triumphant snarl. Black dug his boot under Pettigrew’s side and flipped him onto his back. 

 

“Evening, Peter!” Black leered down at Pettigrew. “Long time no see, eh?”

 

“Peter Pettigrew is dead!” Harry protested. “You killed him!” 

 

“In a little while, I certainly will get around to that,” Black growled, “but no, Harry. Unfortunately enough, Peter Pettigrew is alive and well. He’s spent the last twelve years hiding as Ronald Weasley’s pet rat.” Rage twisted his gaunt features. “I saw him in the newspaper, you know. Your friend and his family were on the front page of the Daily Prophet, holidaying in Egypt after winning the prize draw. I saw him on that boy’s shoulders, saw in the caption that the boy would be going back to Hogwarts where you were, Harry, and bringing Peter with him…”

 

“But he’s dead!” Harry insisted. “You blew Peter Pettigrew to smithereens in front of a streetful of Muggles -”

 

“But all they ever found was a finger,” Draco whispered. “And that man’s hand…”

 

“Noticed Pettigrew’s missing appendage, have you?” Black gestured to the Pettigrew, and Harry noticed a finger was indeed missing on his left hand. “You must take after your mother, Draco - Narcissa was always so very bright…”

 

“But I read the reports about you before my father’s trial!” Draco said, pressing a hand to his temples. “There were eyewitnesses! They all said that Pettigrew shouted about how you sold James and Lily Potter out, that you killed them, and then the street exploded -”

 

“A series of clever diversions.” Black’s voice had turned bitter. “And to think, I’d always thought Wormy was the thickest of the lot of us… he blew up the street, and cut off his own finger, and shouted those things to fake his own death and pin the blame on me!”

 

“But it wasn’t a lie!” Harry protested furiously. “You’re the one who killed my parents! You sold my mum and dad out to Voldemort - you were their Secret-Keeper, and you betrayed him! You said yourself earlier that you killed them!”

 

“I as good as killed them,” Black said miserably. “It’s all my fault… I was the one who suggested the switch, after all…”

 

Harry blinked. “The what?”

 

“It was too obvious, you see,” Black whispered, wrapping his arms around himself. “I was James’ best friend… Voldemort would have expected me to be the Secret-Keeper, so I suggested we swap at the last minute. I thought I was so very clever… Well, on the night they died, I went to check on Peter, but when I arrived at his hiding place, he was gone with no sign of a struggle. It didn't feel right. I set out for your parents' house straight away. And when I saw their house, destroyed, and their bodies... I realised what Peter must've done... what I'd done...."

 

Black’s voice broke, and he turned his face away. There was a long moment of silence as Harry tried to understand, to work out what he ought to believe, to shake up his understanding of his parents and their deaths yet again.

 

“But you laughed,” Draco said in a strained voice. “When the Aurors came for you, you just stood there laughing…”

 

“I’d just lost everything,” Black said dully. “James was the only sort of family I’d ever had - he was my brother. To find his body, knowing it was all my fault that he and Lily died… I was mad with grief. When I stood there and realised everything that rat had pulled off, I just laughed, and laughed, and laughed. I couldn’t believe it.”

 

He was my brother. Harry tried to imagine for a moment how he’d react if he found Draco dead, then immediately pushed the thought to one side. He couldn’t accept the pangs of sympathy that the scenario brought about. Black was probably still lying, and trying to pull on their heartstrings…

 

“But why didn’t you ever say something?” Harry protested. “In prison, at your trial -”

 

“He was never tried,” Draco said with a small gasp. “I read it in the papers. I always thought that was odd…”

 

Black huffed bitterly. “My surname alone was enough to net me a life sentence in Azkaban, of course…”

 

“Merlin and Morgana.” Draco pressed a hand to his mouth, understanding dawning over his face.

 

Harry’s mind was racing. If Black hadn’t had a trial, that changed almost everything. Harry knew from everything Draco and Snape had told him that the Council of Magical Law was flawed and dysfunctional. They’d abstained from sending the likes of Lucius Malfoy to Azkaban, so who was to say Black hadn’t been falsely imprisoned?

 

I must admit, I never understood what happened to him. Andromeda’s words flitted through Harry’s mind. Sirius was one of the proudest blood traitors I knew. 

 

Harry continued to stare at Black, not knowing who or what to believe. “So…. So you broke out of Azkaban for revenge, then? To kill him?”

 

He gestured vaguely to the man on the floor.

 

“I needed to avenge Lily and James, and I needed to make sure he wouldn’t hurt you,” Black said brokenly. “I couldn’t rest after I saw him on the front page of the Prophet. Not knowing that he was at Hogwarts with you. He was perfectly positioned to act, if any news about You-Know-Who reached him…”

 

He’s at Hogwarts, he’s at Hogwarts… the words Mr Weasley claimed Black was whispering in his sleep in the Azkaban cells. They weren’t about Harry at all, were they?

 

“That's why I tried to break into the tower a few months ago,” Black added. “The Fat Lady wouldn’t let me in, so I started communicating with the cat, and tried to let him know what I wanted…” Crookshanks purred, and rubbed his head against Black’s leg. “He’s very intelligent, this one. He kept trying to bring Peter to me, but couldn’t manage it… he told me that Peter had left blood on the sheets and vanished… he must have bitten himself, I assume… faking his own death had worked once, so why not give it another go? Until, of course, I saw you carrying him in that cage, Harry… trapped at last…” Black smirked. “Now, it’s time for me to get started.”

 

He extended the wand, but Draco bellowed, “Wait!”

 

Black’s eyes darted up, gleaming with impatience. “What?!”

 

“Release the Body Bind,” Draco ordered. “I want to talk to Pettigrew. Both of us do.”

 

Harry quickly nodded his agreement. He still felt so hopelessly mixed up, and maybe another perspective would help… he needed some sort of explanation for how this long-dead man had cropped up in this broken old house. 

 

A low, rumbling growl sounded in the back of Black’s throat. “I’ve waited long enough - twelve years -”

 

“Stop!” Draco injected his voice with as much authority as he could muster. Glimmers of Lucius shone out of his steely eyes as he fixed Black with a stern and quelling look. “You’ve waited twelve years, so what’s ten more minutes? You know you owe this to Harry! Let us speak to him, now.”

 

Black hesitated, and some of the mania faded from his features. It was odd, Harry thought, how Draco had such a calming effect on the unhinged man. Perhaps it was some element of the relationship Draco had built with Grim shining through. No matter what the cause was, Draco was effective. Black heaved a loud sigh, and lowered his wand.

 

“Fine,” he muttered, glaring at Pettigrew. “I suppose you have a few things to sort out with him, Harry… but once you’re done…”

 

He made a slashing motion across his neck.

 

Harry gulped as Black crouched over Pettigrew again, wand aimed at his heart. He half-expected the man to blow Pettigrew to smithereens, but all he did was cast, “Incarcerous”. 

 

Strong, thick ropes snaked around Pettigrew’s body, binding him from head to foot. Black tugged at them, checking their strength, before he finally released the Body Bind.

 

Pettigrew’s whole body writhed. He attempted to leap upright, but the tight ropes left him struggling in place, like some sort of beached fish. Pettigrew just barely managed to lift his head and fix his watery blue eyes on Harry.

 

“Please, Harry -” he wheezed, “You have to help me! He’s come back to kill me, like he killed Lily and James -”

 

“DON’T YOU DARE TALK ABOUT THEM!” Black roared, jabbing Draco’s wand at Pettigrew. Red sparks exploded from the tip, and Pettigrew squealed in pain as they made contact with his face. “HOW DARE YOU SAY THEIR NAMES TO HARRY, YOU SWINE -”

 

“STOP IT!” Draco shouted. “You promised Harry he could talk! You owe him that, Black!”

 

The fervent outrage that had contorted Black’s features lessened a little. He nodded stiffly and stepped back, but kept the wand trained on Pettigrew. Harry stared at Draco, wondering what his brother’s plan was. Who did Draco believe? 

 

“So, you were hiding as an Animagus all these years, then?” Draco asked slowly.

 

Pettigrew nodded frantically. “Yes, yes! I had to - I knew he’d be after me! I knew he was going to come back for me, to finish the job - I’ve been waiting all twelve years for the day he escaped Azkaban!”

 

“But Black’s the first person to ever escape from there,” Harry said, brow furrowing. “How could you have worried he’d pull that off when no one else in history ever has?”

 

“He’s a powerful, Dark wizard!” Pettigrew screeched. “Black has powers that the rest of us can only dream of! He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named must have taught him tricks, all sorts of Dark spells that helped him escape! Black was He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named’s right-hand man, you’ve heard what they say -”

 

“Funny, that,” Draco said suddenly. “My father is Lucius Malfoy, you know. He explicitly told me once that whole rumour was just a bunch of nonsense. You-Know-Who didn’t have a right-hand man, only servants. No one could be anything close to his equal.”

 

Pettigrew didn’t seem to know how to respond to this. He opened his mouth then snapped it shut, eyes popping madly. “You can’t believe what Black’s told you!” he begged. “It’s all lies, a bunch of lies, I would never do the things he’s told you - I was in your dormitory for years, Harry! If I was the traitor, why wouldn’t I have hurt you then?”

 

Black laughed scornfully. “Because you were always too much of a coward to do anything of your own accord without a bigger friend telling you what to do, Peter! First was me and James, then Voldemort… with no one to boss you around, what would be in it for you to kill Harry? You may be a worthless coward, but even you aren’t fool enough to try and kill Harry Potter right under Albus Dumbledore’s nose. What would be the point in killing for your half-dead master? Why not waste away your days as a schoolboy’s pet, instead? Just wait around for some news of Voldemort to reach those twitchy little ears…”

 

Peter flinched away violently, like Black had struck him. 

 

“What - don’t want to hear your old master’s name?” Black sneered. “His lot aren’t very happy with you, are they?”

 

“I - I don’t know what you mean!” Pettigrew screeched.

 

"You haven't been hiding from me for twelve years," Black hissed. "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 the Potters' on your information... and Voldemort met his downfall there, didn’t he? I wonder what his followers would do if they knew you were still alive?"

 

“I don’t - you’re lying!” Pettigrew’s face was shiny with sweat. “Harry, please! You mustn’t believe him!”

 

But while Harry didn’t quite believe Black, yet, he couldn’t find it in himself to believe Pettigrew either. Draco seemed similarly inclined. He asked, “If you were innocent, then why did you spend twelve years hiding as a rat? Why would anybody choose that kind of life?”

 

“Because - Because You-Know-Who’s supporters didn’t all go to Azkaban, you know!” Pettigrew babbled. “If they knew I’d put their best spy there -”

 

“Me, a spy?!” Black said furiously. “How dare you! In what world was I Voldemort’s best spy? The Order never trusted me from the start, with my background! If there’d have been even the slightest hint of deceit around me, I’d have been out on my ear before you could blink…”

 

Black let out a humourless laugh. “You, on the other hand? Oh, there was just a trail of destruction in your wake… how did we never notice that you were the leak? All of those deaths - the McKinnons, Caradoc Dearborn, people who ought to have been safe - you sold them out to get in good with your master! That’s not even to speak of James and Lily - oh, I bet it was the finest day of your life, scurrying away to pass on their location to Voldemort!”

 

Pettigrew’s protests had now turned into incoherent babbling. The sweat had started to plaster his thinning blonde hair to his forehead.

 

“Er - Pettigrew did bring up a decent point,” Draco said hesitantly. “How could you have broken out of Azkaban without Dark magic? You, erm… well, you never actually explained how you did it…”

 

“Yes, exactly!” Pettigrew nodded frantically. “Thank you! Precisely what -”

 

“Not you,” Draco interrupted. “I want Black to answer. So?”

 

Sirius stared off into the distance with a puzzled frown on his face.

 

“I… well, I don’t quite know,” he said slowly. “I think it’s important that I always 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...." His throat bobbed. "They feel their way toward people by feeding off 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...." 

 

"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, eyes glued to Black.

 

“He was ready to strike at the moment he could be sure of allies... and 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, and the only one positioned to stop him....." 

 

"It was as if someone had lit a fire in my head, something that the dementors couldn’t destroy... It wasn't a happy feeling, you see, but 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.”

 

Sirius’ grey eyes were piercing as they rose to meet Harry’s gaze. “I saw you a few times, Harry… in that park in Surrey, and in Lily’s old town, when those boys attacked you…I tried to fight them off for you. I even came to your Quidditch match, you know. You fly as well as your father did, Harry...."

 

Harry stared at him, transfixed. They looked at each other for a long, unbroken moment.

 

“I held you the day you were born,” Black said softly, his eyes glittering with grief. “You took your first steps with me… I visited every week, and you always used to cry until your parents handed you to me… I’d never do anything to hurt you, Harry. Never. You’re my godson. I’d have died before betraying you, James and Lily. I swear it.”

 

And at last, Harry believed him. He glanced over to Draco, shared a meaningful look with him, then turned back to Black. Throat tight, Harry nodded once.

 

“No!” Pettigrew screeched, writhing in place. “Please, I wouldn’t, you can’t!” His watery eyes became glued to Draco. “Please, don’t let Black trick you, too -”

 

“Don’t even try it,” Draco spat. “You ought to be ripped limb from limb for what you did to Harry. I said we’d hear you out, and we have. If Black wants his way with you, then I’m happy to let him get on with things. Have your revenge, Sirius.”

 

Harry glanced between Draco and Sirius. The family resemblance had turned strangely stark as they stared at Pettigrew with identical, glinting grey eyes, hungry with the same murderous hatred. 

 

“I’ll hand your wand back once I’m done, Draco,” Sirius said, raising his voice to be heard over the wailing, sobbing Pettigrew. “Apologies about that, by the way.”

 

“Well, you’re using it for a good cause.” Draco’s face was twisted with a strange kind of malicious glee. “Anything to make that worthless piece of scum suffer just as much as Harry had to all these years -”

 

Suddenly, the downstairs door burst open in a loud clatter of noise. Pettigrew fell silent and Black straightened up, alert, wand aloft. Harry shuffled across the floor and peered between the slats in the bannister, but didn’t see a person.

 

“Strange,” Black said softly. “This has always been an old, haunted place -”

 

“EXPELLIARMUS!” 

 

Black yelped as the red jet of light hit him in the chest. The spell was so overpowered that it not only ripped Draco and Harry’s wands from his hands, but also slammed Black into the wall. Harry didn't pay him much attention, though, too busy searching for the origin point of that spell. A figure was standing at the top of the stairs, pulling off Harry’s Invisibility Cloak.

 

Snape had arrived to save them.

 

It was strange how nothing but a facial expression could render Severus Snape so unrecognisable. As he stared down Black, actually quivering with hatred, there wasn't a single glimpse of the guardian Harry had come to know this last year to be seen. In his place stood somebody who Harry could truly believe had hurt, had killed, and would happily do so again in a heartbeat. This man was a former Death Eater, and he was dangerous. 

 

Something awful was about to happen.

 

Harry could have sworn that there was a cloud of crackling, evil energy cloaking Snape as he stormed across the room and pinned Black to the wall by his throat.

 

“You are going to regret ever deciding to attack my children,” Snape said in a terrible voice. 

 

He drove his wand under Black’s chin, evoking an awful choking noise. Snape began to mutter in unfamiliar, clipped Latin, and Harry watched in horror as Black’s face turned red, then purple, then a dreadful white-blue. His jaws shuddered open, and globs of dark blood spilled over his cracked lips and dribbled down his chin. Black's body began to spasm and twitch.

 

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO HIM?!” Harry screeched. For the first time in a very long time, he was truly terrified of Snape.

 

“SEVERUS, PLEASE! YOU CAN’T!” Draco shouted at the same time. “YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND!”

 

Snape stopped chanting and snapped his neck around to look at them. There was a hardness to his black eyes that could only be described as murderous, but it faded slightly into a more familiar look of worry. Snape released Black, and he toppled to a heap on the floor, wheezing and coughing. Blood kept dripping from his sagging mouth, and pooled on the floor by Black's cheek. Harry wanted to go over and check if he was alright, but his vision was blocked as Snape swept down onto him and Draco. He grabbed Harry by the shoulders.

 

“What has he done to you two?!” Snape demanded.

 

“Nothing!” Harry said quickly.

 

“Nothing?!” he echoed incredulously. “You’re covered in blood!”

 

Harry reached out a hand to touch his face, only for his fingers to come back bloody. That must have come from the Whomping Willow’s attacks, Harry realised. The adrenaline of the night had banished the sting from those earlier injuries. He doubted Snape would accept that explanation though; not in the frenzied state he was currently in.

 

 “Severus, you have to stop, you don’t know what’s going on!” Harry tried desperately, even though he knew it would be fruitless. Harry knew Snape well enough to realise that he wouldn't be willing to listen to anybody right now, even Harry and Draco. He was just too angry.

 

“I know well enough,” Snape spat, eyes hardening again. “He’s Cursed you.”

 

Black made a choking noise, trying to mumble around all the blood in his mouth. “I would never -”

 

“SILENCE!” Snape bellowed, and Harry flinched violently. This reaction only seemed to stoke the flames of Snape's fury. He finally released Harry and rose to his feet, face white and livid.

 

Black coughed again, and attempted to lift his head from the ground. “It might be a good idea to hear Harry out, Snape -”

 

Black abruptly stopped speaking when Snape pointed his wand directly at him. Harry’s breath caught in his throat as Snape’s lips curled into a snarl. “Cruci -”

 

“NO!” 

 

Draco leapt to his feet and shoved Snape as hard as he possibly could from behind. Snape, obviously caught off guard, dropped the wands he'd taken from Black and stumbled back into the four-poster, nearly squashing the spitting Crookshanks, who leapt away across the room. Snape’s grip on his own wand had also loosened, and as he tried to push himself upright, Draco snatched it from his grasp. He kept it pointed directly at Snape while Harry lunged across the floor with what little mobility he still possessed to grab the lost wands. He screwed his face up in pain as his injured leg protested against the movement, and gingerly settled himself back against the wall with the limb splayed out in front of him. Then, Harry threw Draco's wand back to him. 

 

Draco couldn't quite seem to believe what he was doing as he raised that wand to also point at Snape. What little colour there had been in his face drained away.

 

Snape raised his hands in a placating gesture. He looked both horrified and heartbroken. “Draco, don’t - you’re under the Imperius -”

 

“I’m not, you bloody idiot!” Draco yelled. His wand arm was trembling. “I’m not going to attack you, I’m just trying to stop you from doing something stupid! Can’t you just stop and listen to us? You don’t understand what’s really going on, Severus! Turn around and look!” 

 

Snape seemed reluctant to tear his eyes away from Draco, but when Harry’s brother indicated harshly with his wand to the far end of the room, he finally glanced away. There was a strange grunting noise, and Snape’s eyes darted towards the source. It was then that he became privy to the fifth person in the room, bathed in shadow - the fully bound man who was currently attempting to wriggle like a worm towards the staircase which the hissing Crookshanks was guarding.

 

When Snape’s eyes met his, Pettigrew froze in place. He was so still that it looked as though he’d been put under another Body Bind.

 

Snape’s mouth actually fell open, and it was several seconds before he managed to gather his wits. “Pettigrew?!” 

 

“Severus!” Peter gasped. “Oh, thank goodness you’re here! You can help us, Black’s here to kill me -”

 

“Oh, shut up!” Black snapped before devolving into another fit of coughing from whatever it was Snape had done to him. 

 

Snape’s eyes were darting around the room at breakneck pace - Pettigrew, to Black, to Harry and Draco, to Black again. 

 

“It seems you have a bit of catching up to do, Snape,” Black drawled.

 

Harry could practically hear the cogs turning in Snape’s head. He was silent for a very, very long time as he looked around the room. It was nearly a full minute before he spoke - addressing Black.

 

“You switched.” It was a statement, not a question. 

 

Black nodded once, face twisted with pain.

 

Snape’s eyes were like dark pits of hatred. “You damnable fools!”

 

“At least I was never fool enough to serve the Dark Lord,” Black spat.

 

“Yes - the Dark Lord!” Pettigrew said quickly. “Severus, you - you were one of his - you would have recognised me in his ranks, surely! We went to school together, you’d have known!”

 

Snape stared at Pettigrew for a long, long moment, and a horrified expression of realisation dawned on his face.

 

“But I did recognise you,” he breathed. “The night that Agnes Carrow was ambushed by the Order, the Dark Lord tortured someone for not having the correct information - someone who went by the name of Wormtail…”

 

Black made a noise of disgust. “You used the name James gave you to spy?!”

 

“It wasn’t me!” Pettigrew screeched. “It was Black, he must have used my old nickname as a disguise -”

 

“But I know your screams, Pettigrew,” Snape said softly. A chill went down Harry’s spine. “No, I am almost perfectly certain that it was you being tortured that night.”

 

He watched Pettigrew for several moments, then whirled around to face Harry, Draco, and Black.

 

“Explain,” he said curtly. “All of you.”

 

And so they did. Black did most of the talking, his voice hoarse and ragged, while Draco and Harry occasionally jumped in when his rambling grew too incomprehensible, or to interrupt when Pettigrew would try to interject with a lie. Snape did not speak once, not even to ask a question. He also did not stop glaring at Black the entire time, even when Harry or Draco were the ones speaking. Harry couldn’t even begin to imagine what he was thinking.

 

“So, if you’re both Animagi, why didn’t you ever register?” Snape finally asked, folding his arms. “Too good for the rules, are we, Black?”

 

“A fifteen-year-old can’t legally become an Animagus,” Black said coolly. “And being registered wouldn’t have done Remus much good…”

 

Understanding dawned on Snape’s face. “You both, and Potter?”

 

“Every full moon.” Black raised his eyebrows. “How else do you think James could have caught up with you that night in the tunnel? He was in his stag form.”

 

Harry didn’t think he’d ever seen Snape look at someone with such hatred. “So I was right, when I told the Headmaster that Lupin was in cahoots with you! That’s why he came to teach here!”

 

Black’s eyes widened with shock. “Remus, a professor?”

 

“Not for much longer, if I have anything to do with it,” Snape sneered. “Once Lupin’s little romp in the moonlight has concluded, I’ll have him thrown from the castle. He’s been helping you all along - why else wouldn’t he have reported all of your Animagi powers to the Headmaster?”

 

“I don’t know why,” Black said with a frown, “but I have not seen Remus Lupin in twelve years. As far as I’m aware, he still thinks I’m a traitor.”

 

Snape had always possessed the uncanny ability to divine truth from lies, Harry knew. As he stared into Black’s face, a furious wave of understanding crossed Snape’s features.

 

“Wormtail was what we called Peter - after his Animagus form,” Black spat. “He was a rat. I was Padfoot, a dog, and James was Prongs, a stag. Only us three and Remus knew those nicknames. It was a perfect code to use with the Dark Lord - the ideal slap in the face, wasn't it, Peter?”

 

Pettigrew was still babbling and begging incomprehensibly, while Snape slowly shook his head. “You really didn’t do it.”

 

“Bingo.” Black grinned, exposing his horrid teeth yet again, which were now stained with his own blood. “It's a right old shame for you, isn't it? I'm sure you were just itching to get started on that slew of Unforgivables…”

 

Snape made a furious growling noise in the back of his throat and scowled at Black.

 

So Snape - I intend to commit the crime I was imprisoned for,” Black said, arching an eyebrow. Even lying bound on the floor, he successfully managed an air of haughtiness. “Fancy giving me a hand?”

 

Snape’s eyes drifted to Pettigrew’s trembling form, and the set of his jaw hardened. He reached out his hands and cracked his knuckles. “It would be my pleasure.”

 

“Don’t kill Pettigrew, Severus,” Harry said suddenly. Snape’s eyes fell from Peter’s face and landed on Harry, still slouched on the floor. 

 

“We need him to prove that Black didn’t murder all those people. Pettigrew should be in Azkaban, not him,” Harry said softly. “Pettigrew betrayed my parents, so he should be punished, not someone innocent. Don’t hurt either of them. Just hand Pettigrew over to the Dementors.”

 

“Black’s far from innocent,” Snape muttered, hands clenched into fists. “Unless you’ve forgotten he broke out of Azkaban, or what he did to me all those years ago?”

 

“He deserves to be heard out properly,” Harry insisted. “And that won’t happen if Pettigrew’s dead. Please, Severus. For me - just take them both to Dumbledore or something. Don’t get Black killed for something he didn’t do!”

 

Snape stared at him for a very long time, the conflict apparent on his face. Harry stared at him unblinkingly, hoping and praying that Snape wouldn’t take Sirius to the Dementors to be Kissed anyway. Harry wasn’t sure how he’d ever be able to look at Snape the same way if he didn’t do as Harry asked.

 

Please, Harry thought. Please do the right thing.

 

And Snape seemed to recognise the desperation Harry was feeling. A discontented look of acquiescence fell over his features.

 

“Fine,” he relented. 

 

Harry felt his shoulders slump as the relief overwhelmed him.

 

“Draco, give me back my wand,” Snape ordered. 

 

Draco didn’t move. He narrowed his eyes. “You’re not going to -”

 

“For heaven’s sake, I just want to secure Black and Pettigrew!” he snapped.

 

“Well you just tried to put Black under the Cruciatus Curse, so forgive me if I don’t want to hand a weapon right back to you, Severus!” Draco said angrily. “After everything you’ve spent the past year telling me, how could you go and do a thing like that?!”

 

Snape looked like Draco had slapped him. His face became heavy with regret, like he’d aged ten years in a single second. Harry had to wonder what was going on; he had no idea what the Cruciatus Curse was, but judging by Draco’s reaction it had to be something dreadful.

 

“I give you my word, Draco, I will not do anything to harm Black again,” he said in a hollow voice.

 

Draco hesitated for another moment, then threw Snape’s wand back to him. He deftly snatched it out of the air, and ran his fingers over it. Then, he pointed it not at Black, but at Pettigrew. The ropes binding him in place melted away, to be replaced by a set of silver handcuffs on both his ankles and wrists. Snape flicked his wand, and a long, metal chain attached Pettigrew to him. He then Transfigured Black’s ropes into a set of cuffs, binding Pettigrew in place on the other side. 

 

“Can I trust you not to run unless you’re leashed, Black?” Snape asked, arching an eyebrow.

 

“I don’t care what you do to me, as long as he’s punished,” Black growled. Pettigrew shrank away as Black glowered at him, hands flexing like he was just about restraining himself from throttling Pettigrew. “You'll have so much fun with the Dementors, Wormy…”

 

“I think we ought to make a trip to the Headmaster’s office, then,” Snape said, straightening up. He shot a sharp look at Pettigrew. “Don’t even think about transforming, Peter, or I will kill you. And believe me, I won’t make it quick…”

 

Pettigrew squeaked, and nodded frantically.

 

Snape gestured towards the staircase. “Harry, Draco, you two lead.”

 

He inclined his head towards the staircase, and Draco began to walk. Harry, who was still on the floor, attempted to push himself up from the ground to follow, but gasped as putting pressure on his left ankle caused spikes of pain to shoot up his leg. He leaned heavily against the wall to support himself.

 

“What’s wrong?” Snape demanded.

 

“My ankle,” Harry managed. “I hurt it.”

 

He very carefully didn’t mention how, since Harry didn’t particularly trust Snape not to try and kill Black if he found out he'd hexed Harry. In Black’s defence, Harry had attacked him first, but he didn’t suppose Snape would like that explanation.

 

Snape gave him a deeply exasperated look. “You never mention pertinent information like that, do you? Merlin's beard…”

 

“I forgot!” Harry protested. “And anyway, is now really the time for a lecture? Come on, Severus!”

 

Snape sighed loudly and pointed his wand at Harry’s leg. “Ferula.” 

 

White bandages tightly bound him. 

 

“I don’t think it’s broken,” Harry said.

 

“I still want Madam Pomfrey looking at it before I do anything to treat it,” Snape said. “Draco, can you help him walk?”

 

“Sure,” Draco said. He walked over to Harry, who slung his arm over Draco’s shoulder for support. He found that like this, he could just about manage to hobble along.

 

Black had watched all of this happen with his mouth hanging open, expression aghast. He very clearly didn’t know what to make of what he’d just witnessed. It looked like he was reading himself to ask a question, but before he had a chance, Snape began to march him and Pettigrew towards the staircase Harry and Draco were making their way down.

 

It was a long, silent journey as they all shuffled along. Harry couldn’t walk very quickly with his dodgy ankle, while Snape was slowed by his two prisoners. Crookshanks loped around their feet, tail sticking straight up in the air. Harry glowered at the cat, having not quite forgiven him for stealing his wand earlier.

 

They were about three quarters of the way through the tunnel when someone tried to break the silence. It was Black.

 

“Harry,” he began.

 

“Don’t!” Snape snapped. “You do not get to speak to him.”

 

“I’ll speak to my godson if I want to, you greasy old slimeball,” Black growled.

 

“You ought to take more care around the man who holds your fate in his hands, Black!” Snape said furiously. “Particularly since you just kidnapped the very boy you wish to speak to!”

 

“I did not kidnap him!” Black erupted. “Bloody hell, you’re as much of an idiot as ever!”

 

“And you’re a filthy little liar -”

 

Harry winced and tried to explain just how he’d ended up in the Shrieking Shack, but couldn’t find a gap in the conversation to interrupt. At any rate, Snape and Black quickly stopped arguing about that, and just dissolved into a spat of mindless bickering about a vast array of topics Harry had no context for.

 

“- And I know it was you that put that Billywig Sting in my potion, right at the perfect moment for me to singe all my hair off in the explosion -”

 

“You snuck itching powder into my laundry!” Snape said angrily. “After the weeks of hives, it was the least you deserved! You and Potter were both far too obsessed with your perfect locks -”

 

Black scoffed. “You really want to get started on hair? You?!” 

 

“Do you think this is how we sound when we argue?” Draco whispered.

 

“I hope not,” Harry muttered. If it was, then he was never going to bicker with Draco again.

 

With some aid from Draco, Harry managed to scrabble out of the passage. The Whomping Willow was still as a statue once again, since Crookshanks had situated himself on the particular knot, eyes glowing in the light of the full moon. They’d been in that ramshackle house long enough for night to fall. Harry waited with Draco as Snape pulled Black and Pettigrew out after him. They were still arguing furiously, but the subject matter had grown far darker.

 

“- after what you did to Benjy Fenwick you ought to be rotting in Azkaban, only you and your sectumsempra could cut someone into those kinds of pieces -”

 

“You tried to murder me at sixteen!” Snape shouted. “You cannot talk after setting a werewolf on me!”

 

“You wouldn’t have been in any danger if you weren’t so hellbent on getting Remus expelled for something he can’t even help!”

 

“Don’t even -”

 

Snape’s rebuttal abruptly devolved into a choked gasp. Draco and Harry both whipped around immediately. Snape was clutching his abdomen with a very pained look on his face, and Pettigrew somehow had a wand awkwardly grasped in his chained hands.

 

“No!” Harry and Black both shouted at once. Harry fumbled for his own wand, and Sirius tried to grab at Pettigrew, but they were all too late. The chains went slack as Pettigrew shrank out of them and hit the floor in rat form. He immediately leapt away into the grass.

 

“PETRIFICUS TOTALUS!”

 

“IMMOBULUS!”

 

“INCARCEROUS!” 

 

Harry and Draco shot spell after spell in the direction of the dark shadow darting across the grounds, but it was no use. Pettigrew was too fast, and too hard to see. He could only judge by the spitting, ginger streak of fur that was Crookshanks, determinedly chasing after his prey, and Harry didn’t want to accidentally hit Hermione’s cat instead of his true target. 

 

Sirius let out an animalistic howl and lunged in the direction of the Forbidden Forest, but chained to Snape as he was, all he succeeded at doing was nearly knocking both himself and Snape to the floor. Snape had to grab Black, who was writhing and fighting to get at Pettigrew, tangling them terribly.

 

“Not again!” Sirius shouted. “He can’t get away again!”

 

“Stop fighting me so we can release you!” Snape shouted, using his free hand to reach out and strike Black very hard across the face. The shock of the blow managed to stop Black’s writhing for a moment, and Snape used the moment of stillness to turn to Draco and Harry. “The countercurse, now!”

 

“I don’t know it!” Draco wailed, anxiously wringing his hands.

 

“It’s relashio - do it now before he gets away!”

 

“Relashio!” 

 

The chains connecting Black and Snape dissolved into dust. Harry would have expected both of them to charge straight after Peter, but both Snape and Black stood frozen in place. Harry couldn’t understand why - didn’t Snape want to get his wand back? Why was he staring wide-eyed in the direction Pettigrew had vanished without moving? Harry turned around to check for himself, and his stomach did a somersault. 

 

A hundred Dementors were floating across the lake towards them.

 

Black sank to his knees and clutched his head. “No… no, please…”

 

Icy cold permeated Harry’s flesh, chilling him to his very bones as the Dementors drew closer. The grounds began to vanish in a cloud of thick, white fog…

 

Snape’s face was deathly white. He threw himself at Draco and snatched the wand from the boy’s hand. “Expecto patronum! Expecto patronum - EXPECTO PATRONUM!” 

 

He shouted the spell over and over, but he could barely force more than a trickle of silver vapour from the wand. For the first time in Harry’s life, he saw true terror on Snape’s face as he stared up at the Dementors just reaching the lakeshore, approaching far too swiftly for them to outrun. Harry reached the same conclusion that Snape surely had just a moment later.

 

Snape couldn’t cast the Patronus Charm without his own wand. They were defenceless. 

 

“Harry!” he shouted urgently. “You have to help me, I can't hold them off alone -”

 

“EXPECTO PATRONUM!” Harry shouted. 

 

A shield of silver mist shot out of his wand, but it wasn’t anywhere near enough. Harry couldn’t do more than an incorporeal Patronus, and that definitely wouldn’t hold off so many Dementors. They had formed a ring around the four of them, barely ten feet out, waiting for the shield of vapour to flicker away once Snape and Harry’s powers drained.

 

Harry knew Snape was frightened, and that, more than anything, terrified him. 

 

Darkness was pressing in at the edges of Harry's vision. Black was slumped motionless on the ground, and Draco wasn’t far behind, kneeling down and clutching his middle, mumbling incoherently. Lily was screaming and pleading. They were all going to die, and Harry couldn’t help them…

 

Snape grabbed Harry by the shoulders and shook him, hard. His bloodless face was glistening with sweat.

 

“You have to do this, Harry!” he urged. “You must try and conjure a corporeal Patronus! Come on - think of your happiest memory -”

 

“I can’t!” he gasped, as the screams began to grow louder. “I can’t manage it, you know I can’t -”

 

“You can!” Snape shook him again, his eyes fierce. “Try again! You cannot afford to stop!”

 

Harry tried valiantly to press away his mother’s screams, to summon up any happy memory - of all the good times he’d shared with Snape and Draco, or Ron and Hermione, and gasped, “Expecto patronum… expecto patronum…”

 

The silver vapour was growing thinner, and Harry felt his power flickering out as tendrils of freezing fog snaked their way into his brain. The Dementors pressed forwards. Voldemort was laughing, and Draco was whimpering, and a Dementor was reaching out a scabbed hand from under its cloak, inches from Black’s face -

 

“Keep trying!” Snape’s voice seemed to be coming from very far away, but it just about drowned out his mother’s screams. “I believe in you, Harry, you can do this!”

 

I believe in you, Harry. 

 

Something about those words struck a chord, and suddenly, Harry believed in himself just a little bit more. 

 

He forced himself to remember how it felt to be happy with Draco and Snape. He thought of those wonderful words Snape had just said to Harry, and of other words, like ‘family’. He recalled how Draco had stood trembling before Black, offering up his own life to protect Harry, and thought of the protectiveness in Snape’s voice as he swooped to their defence in the shack. Harry thought of how much he loved them both, and let that feeling fill him up.

 

Somehow, he was a lot less frightened. Just as Snape and Draco had protected him earlier, Harry was going to defend his family. He had a brother and a father to stand up for, now, and if Snape said that Harry could do this, he was damn well going to.

 

Harry held his wand aloft, summoned up the last dregs of his willpower, and bellowed, “EXPECTO PATRONUM!” 

 

 It was like a crackling fire had been lit in Harry’s chest, burning every last tendril of ice from his body in a glorious blaze of bright light. More than fog exploded from the tip of Harry’s wand - a great silver animal burst forth, sending the Dementors reeling backwards in skittering waves. Harry triumphantly watched the Dementors retreat, quailing in the face of the slender, silver doe that was forcing them back. It danced across the inky lakewater, leaving shimmering footsteps in its wake.

 

It was only once both the deer and the Dementors had disappeared into the darkness that Harry allowed his wand arm to drop slack to his side. His whole body was shuddering, and his knees buckled. Harry would have toppled to the ground if it wasn’t for the strong arms that swept Harry up.

 

Snape pulled Harry tightly against his chest, squashing the air out of him. Harry wrapped his own arms around Snape and took in a shuddering breath, feeling like he hadn’t tasted oxygen during the entire battle against the Dementors. 

 

It was only then that Harry realised how violently Snape was shaking. Pressed against his ribcage as Harry was, he could hear every frantic thud of Snape’s heart.

 

“You brave, brilliant boy,” Snape whispered. “You just saved all of our lives. I am so very proud of you, Harry.”

 

Harry made an incoherent, choked noise that could have been a laugh or a sob. He felt dizzy, and breathless, and the last thought he had before the darkness claimed him was how very safe he felt in his father’s embrace.