Peter suddenly shot up from his chair, face pale and glistening with sweat.
"It wasn't me, James!" he wailed. "It was—it was Sirius! He made me do it! I'm innocent! He used the Imperius Curse to control me!"
"Don't spout nonsense!" Sirius snarled, leaping to his feet. "You went willingly, you coward! You crawled to the Dark Lord and kissed his feet—handed him the secret like a loyal dog!"
"Sit down, Sirius!" Dumbledore snapped again.
But Sirius didn't stop.
"Let me kill him, James! Please. Let me kill him—then you can kill me. I deserve it. I don't care anymore. Just let me end that rat."
Sirius's voice cracked.
"You trusted me… and I broke that trust. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." His knees buckled, and he collapsed into the chair again. His shoulders shook. "It was me… because of me. Because I insisted he take the secret. We all knew he didn't have the spine to fight. But I… I trusted him. We all did. I'm sorry, James. Please. Let me kill him… then you can kill me. I can't live with this guilt."
He buried his face in his hands.
"I didn't betray you, James. I would have given my life before crawling to Voldemort. I'm innocent in that. But I'm guilty—guilty for trusting someone who shouldn't have been trusted."
James stood, eyes blazing. "Then why didn't you say anything when I came to Azkaban? Why didn't you tell me the truth?"
Sirius looked up at him, his face wet with tears.
"I couldn't look you in the eyes, James," Sirius said, voice low and trembling. "I was guilty—not of betrayal, but of arrogance. I insisted on making him the Secret Keeper. I thought I was being clever. But it was my pride… my mistake… that got her killed." He swallowed hard. "I didn't betray you. I swear it. I never joined Voldemort. I never took part in his twisted dance of death. I'd rather die than follow him." Sirius stepped forward, eyes pleading. "Please—let me be the one to finish it. Let me kill him. And after that… do whatever you want with me."
Dumbledore raised his voice again. "Enough. Severus—bring the Veritaserum."
Professor McGonagall stepped forward sharply. "Albus, if the Ministry finds out—"
"It doesn't matter anymore," Dumbledore said. "The truth is all that matters."
Snape stepped forward, already holding a vial. "I brought one."
Sirius snatched the vial without hesitation. He drank half of it in a single gulp, then sat heavily into his chair. His limbs slackened. His eyes dulled.
"Now," Dumbledore said gently. "What is your name?"
"Sirius Black."
"When did you graduate Hogwarts?"
"1977."
"Who were your parents?"
"Orion and Walburga Black."
Dumbledore nodded. "Good. Now tell me: Did you reveal the secret of the Potters' location to the Dark Lord?"
"No."
"Who did?"
"Peter Pettigrew."
"Did you use the Imperius Curse on Peter Pettigrew?"
"No."
"Did you kill those twelve Muggles on the street thirteen years ago?"
"No. I found Peter. I confronted him. He faked his death, killed them, and vanished."
Dumbledore narrowed his eyes. "Then how did you know he was alive and ran from Azkaban?"
"When Fudge came to inspect the prison, he left a newspaper. There was a photo. I saw the rat—in the hands of one of the Weasley children. I recognized him. I escaped to find him."
All eyes turned to Peter. He began to cry, shaking violently.
"No, Professor, please!" he sobbed. "Please don't—don't give me that potion. You have to believe me—he used the Imperius Curse on me!"
Remus stepped forward. "Sirius took the truth serum and told us everything. If you're innocent, Peter—prove it."
Snape didn't wait. He grabbed Peter by the jaw and forced the vial down his throat. Peter gagged, but the potion was swallowed. His eyes dulled, and he sat back, limp.
"What is your name?" Dumbledore asked.
"Peter Pettigrew."
"What's your mother's name?"
"Hilary Pettigrew."
"Where is Your father?"
"Left us. Gambler. Ran off with another woman."
Remus nodded. "It's working."
Dumbledore's voice was ice. "Did you betray the Potters?"
Peter was silent for a moment.
"…Yes."
The room erupted in a sudden silence so deep it was deafening. James's entire body shook. Remus caught his arms, restraining him.
"Were you spying for the Dark Lord inside the Order of the Phoenix?"
"Yes."
"When did it begin?"
"A year after I graduated, I had a plan," he began quietly. "I was going to take my mother and disappear into the countryside—stay far away from the war. I didn't want to fight. I didn't want to be a hero. I just wanted to keep her safe." He paused, jaw tightening. "But Sirius… he taunted me. Called me a coward. Said I didn't have the guts, that I was running away and abandoning my friends—the ones who'd stood by me all through school. He said I was ungrateful." His voice wavered for a moment. "But I wasn't. I just… I couldn't risk losing her. She was all I had left." He looked away. "Still, they wouldn't stop. They insisted I join. So… I gave in. I left my mother behind and joined the Order."
Dumbledore's expression was unreadable.
"When did you come in contact with the Dark Lord?"
Peter blinked slowly, his voice barely above a whisper.
"It happened during a visit to my mother. A year had passed since I joined the Order of the Phoenix. She was always terrified that I might be killed in the war, so she sent me a letter—begging me to come see her."
He took a shaky breath under the effect of the truth serum .
"When I arrived at our home in the countryside… he was already there. Sitting in our living room. Talking to her."
Peter's eyes glazed over with the memory.
"I froze. I couldn't understand how he even knew where we lived. How he found us. And then… then he told me he was going to kill my mother—for marrying a half-blood."
His voice cracked.
"I begged him not to. I pleaded—on my knees. And he said if I did something for him… if I spied on the Order… he'd let us live."
He looked down, with dull eyes .
"I was terrified. I didn't know what to do. I just… I didn't want her to die."
"Were you under the Imperius Curse when you told him the Potters' location?"
"No. The moment I had the secret… I gave it to him."
"Then why," Dumbledore asked softly, "did Voldemort tell James that Sirius was the one who betrayed them?"
Peter's lip quivered. "He was angry. The Order had ruined one of his missions. He needed certain potion materials—he lost them. When I told him the Potters' location, he tortured me. Crucio. For minutes. Then he was about to kill me. I panicked—I said Sirius had sent me. That Sirius was loyal. That he gave me the secret to deliver."
Snape scoffed, his tone biting.
"The Dark Lord is a master of Legilimency. He sees through lies with ease. So tell me, how did he believe you?"
He narrowed his eyes.
"Even if you begged, even if you groveled, he wouldn't have spared you—unless you gave him something he truly wanted. So what exactly were you trying to gain by feeding him this pathetic nonsense?"
Peter's voice was trembling. "He didn't probe. He just… accepted it. Maybe he didn't care. Maybe he wanted to believe it. Or… maybe he wanted to manipulate everything."
Dumbledore sighed deeply, his gaze heavy.
"Why did you tell him Sirius was joining the Death Eaters? At the time, his only goal was to kill Harry. You knew that. You also knew that if Sirius were left alive, he would come after you. So why say it?"
"I didn't want to die," Peter whispered, his voice trembling. "I felt like I had no choice. I just wanted to delay the inevitable… to stay alive a little longer."
He swallowed hard.
"When I realized he was going after James, I planned to flee—to take my mother and escape the country. I thought if I could just disappear, none of this would follow me."
"But… he didn't kill me. He went straight to James's home."
Peter looked down, looking more pathetic.
"I put my mother on a Muggle plane and sent her far away. I was on my way out too… when Sirius found me in the middle of a Muggle street. He tried to kill me right then and there."
Snape turned to Dumbledore. "It doesn't make sense. The Dark Lord doesn't ignore lies."
"I don't know," Dumbledore admitted quietly. "I don't know why he chose not to kill Peter… or why he spared James that night. But I suspect he had a purpose."
He paused, eyes clouded with memory.
"Voldemort wanted James to suffer. He wanted him to live with the belief that his closest friends had betrayed him—that the people he trusted most were responsible for the death of his wife and child."
His voice grew heavier.
"He wanted to poison James's heart. To turn him against the Order… against me… against everyone who had once stood beside him."
Dumbledore's expression darkened.
"Voldemort thrives on chaos. On mistrust. He delights in turning brother against brother, friend against friend. I have seen it many times—sons abandoned or neglected, twisted into weapons against their own fathers. Many of his followers come from that same broken mold: the fearful, the furious, the ones already half-lost before he ever touched their minds. Murderers. Abusers. Damaged souls who find power in darkness because they believe there is no light left for them."
Dumbledore looked around the room—his eyes burdened with sorrow.
"To some extent," he said, "he succeeded."