Hogwarts Castle - Lower Service Corridors - 7:23 PM
The house-elves of Hogwarts had been serving the castle for over a thousand years, which meant they possessed an intimate understanding of every secret passage, hidden alcove, and forgotten storage space that existed within the ancient structure. When Professor McGonagall had requested their assistance in locating a dangerous individual hiding among the general rodent population, they had responded with the kind of systematic efficiency that made their magical services indispensable to the castle's daily operations.
Bobby materialized in the service corridor beneath Gryffindor Tower with a soft pop, his tennis-ball-sized eyes immediately scanning the narrow space with professional thoroughness. The inter-floor passages that honeycomb Hogwarts were designed primarily for maintenance access and emergency evacuation routes, but over the centuries they had also become the preferred transportation network for mice, rats, and other small creatures who found the castle's main corridors insufficiently private for their activities.
"Target is moving toward central staircase access points," he reported to the small communication device McGonagall had provided, his voice pitched low to avoid alerting the subject to their coordinated pursuit. "Bobby is detecting magical signature consistent with human consciousness operating in animal form—very different from normal rat magic patterns."
From his position near the Great Hall's service entrance, another house-elf's voice crackled through the communication network: "Blinky is seeing suspicious rat behavior near kitchen storage areas. Subject is avoiding food sources that normal rats would investigate, instead positioning for observation of areas where students and staff conduct private conversations."
"Reacher is tracking movement through Portrait Gallery service passages," came a third voice, this one carrying the particular authority of an elf with extensive experience in security matters. "Subject demonstrates knowledge of castle layout beyond what wild rodent could possess through normal exploration. Definitely human intelligence operating in transformed state."
McGonagall's voice cut through the reports with crisp authority: "All units maintain surveillance but do not attempt capture until backup arrives. Subject may be capable of violence if cornered, and we cannot risk civilian casualties among castle population."
What none of the searchers realized was that their systematic hunt was being observed by someone who possessed both intimate knowledge of Hogwarts' layout and considerably more experience with capturing dangerous fugitives under complex circumstances.
Eurus Holmes stood in the shadows of an alcove behind a tapestry depicting the Battle of Hogwarts (which hadn't happened yet, but magical tapestries were notoriously unreliable about temporal accuracy), her pale eyes tracking the house-elves' movements with professional appreciation for their tactical coordination. Her violin hung silent at her side, its work of disrupting the castle's perimeter defenses complete, leaving her free to focus on the considerably more entertaining challenge of locating Peter Pettigrew before the official search teams managed to fumble their way to success.
"Predictable," she murmured to herself, noting how the house-elves were conducting their search according to logical patterns that someone with Peter's knowledge of castle security would certainly anticipate. "Systematic coverage of obvious hiding places, coordinated communication protocols, textbook containment strategies... all perfectly adequate for conventional fugitive situations, but entirely insufficient for someone who spent seven years learning to think like a Marauder."
She consulted the detailed architectural analysis she'd conducted during her approach to the castle, cross-referencing it with her psychological profile of Peter's likely behavior patterns under stress. A man desperate enough to fake his death and frame his best friend wouldn't seek obvious concealment—he'd look for hiding places that offered both absolute security and strategic advantages for whatever came next.
"The Whomping Willow," she said suddenly, her expression brightening with the intellectual satisfaction that preceded her most brilliant deductions. "Of course. Not in the castle at all—too many people, too much activity, too many opportunities for accidental discovery. He'd seek familiar territory that provides both concealment and symbolic significance."
She began moving through Hogwarts' corridors with the kind of confident navigation that suggested she'd spent considerable time studying the castle's layout through sources more comprehensive than tourist guides or academic texts. Her footsteps were silent on the ancient stone floors, and her movements carried the fluid precision of someone accustomed to moving through hostile territory without attracting unwanted attention.
The Whomping Willow stood in the castle grounds like a monument to vegetative violence, its branches swaying in patterns that suggested it was actively seeking targets to pulverize despite the absence of any immediate threats. During his student years, Peter would have known the tree's behavioral patterns, the safe approaches that could be used during its dormant periods, and most importantly, the secret passage that connected the tree's base to the Shrieking Shack in Hogsmeade Village.
"Perfect psychological symbolism," Eurus observed as she approached the tree from its traditionally safe angle, noting the worn patches of ground that indicated recent activity around the entrance to the hidden passage. "Return to the place where he spent his most emotionally significant experiences, where he learned to transform into the shape he now uses for survival, where he helped his friends support the werewolf who's now hunting him for justice."
She paused at the tree's base, studying the ground with the kind of methodical attention that revealed details invisible to casual observation. Recent disturbance patterns in the soil suggested regular traffic by something small but heavier than the local wildlife population. More tellingly, there were traces of what appeared to be deliberately concealed food caches—scraps that had been buried with the kind of systematic planning that indicated human intelligence rather than animal instinct.
"Definitely occupied," she concluded, beginning to play her violin again. This time, the melody was specifically composed to interact with the Whomping Willow's magical responses, using acoustic frequencies that would trigger its dormant period and provide safe access to the passage entrance. "And occupied by someone who understands both the tree's behavioral patterns and the strategic advantages of maintaining multiple escape routes."
As the tree's violent movements slowed under the influence of her carefully calculated music, Eurus made her way to the passage entrance with practiced efficiency. The opening was concealed behind a tangle of roots that looked completely natural but showed signs of regular disturbance by someone who knew exactly how to access the hidden space without leaving obvious traces.
"Peter Pettigrew," she called into the darkness of the passage, her voice carrying clearly through the confined space with the kind of authority that suggested she was accustomed to being obeyed immediately and completely. "I know you're down there, and I know you can understand every word I'm saying. We need to have a conversation about family obligations and the consequences of betraying people you should have protected."
The silence that followed was so complete that even the Highland wind seemed to pause in anticipation of what would happen next.
"I'm Lily's cousin," Eurus continued conversationally, settling cross-legged at the passage entrance with the kind of patient determination that suggested she was prepared to wait as long as necessary. "Eurus Holmes. You may remember her mentioning me in her letters—she always said I was brilliant but completely mad, which was remarkably accurate as character assessments go."
From deep within the passage came a soft sound that might have been a rat moving through debris, or might have been someone trying very hard to control their breathing while processing unexpected and extremely unwelcome information.
"The thing about family, Peter, is that we tend to take betrayal rather personally. Lily was the only member of our extended family who wasn't either terrified of me or trying to pretend I didn't exist. She wrote me letters, real letters, about school and friends and the fascinating ways her classmates revealed their true personalities under pressure." Eurus began playing again, a soft melody that seemed designed to carry clearly through the passage while creating an atmosphere of inevitable conclusion rather than immediate threat.
"She told me about you, actually. Sweet Peter who always seemed a bit too eager to please, who tried so hard to keep up with James and Sirius and Remus despite being less naturally talented at the things they valued. She felt sorry for you, did you know that? She worried that you might get hurt trying to prove you belonged with people who were genuinely extraordinary."
The music grew more complex, weaving between beauty and underlying menace in patterns that suggested mathematical precision rather than emotional expression.
"She was right to worry, though not in the way she anticipated. You did get hurt, didn't you, Peter? Hurt by the realization that you were fundamentally ordinary while surrounded by people who were genuinely special. Hurt by the knowledge that no matter how hard you tried, you'd never be their equal in the ways that mattered to them."
Another soft sound from the passage, this one definitely suggesting movement toward the entrance rather than deeper retreat.
"The psychological profile is quite fascinating, really. Classic attachment disorder combined with narcissistic injury, leading to parasitic relationship patterns and eventually complete moral collapse when your idealized companions failed to provide the validation you needed. Very textbook, though executed with considerably more cunning than most people would have given you credit for."
"I don't... I don't know what you're talking about," came a voice from the passage—human, definitely Peter's voice despite the obvious attempt to disguise it through hoarseness and fear.
"Oh, please, Peter. We're well beyond the point where denial serves any useful purpose." Eurus's voice carried the kind of amused condescension that suggested she found his attempted deception mildly entertaining but ultimately pointless. "You've been living as a rat for days, gathering intelligence about Harry's location and protection arrangements while everyone believes you're dead. Very clever, though psychologically predictable once one understands your fundamental character flaws."
"Harry?" The voice was closer now, carrying a note of desperate curiosity that confirmed Eurus's analysis of his primary concerns.
"My nephew, now. Lily's son. The child you marked for death when you told Voldemort how to find his parents." The music stopped abruptly, leaving her words hanging in the sudden silence with crystalline clarity. "He's safe, by the way. Better protected than you could possibly imagine, being raised by people who actually understand the difference between genuine care and manipulative self-interest."
Peter emerged from the passage with the cautious movements of someone who knew they were completely trapped but hoped to negotiate some form of survival through strategic cooperation. In human form, he looked exactly as pathetic as Eurus had expected—thin, prematurely aged, with the kind of desperate eyes that suggested days of living in constant fear of discovery.
"Please," he said, his voice carrying the wheedling tone that had probably characterized most of his interpersonal relationships since childhood. "I never wanted anyone to get hurt. I was forced into it—the Dark Lord would have killed me if I hadn't helped him. I didn't have a choice."
"Interesting theory," Eurus replied conversationally, rising to her feet with fluid grace while keeping her violin positioned for either musical performance or use as a weapon, depending on how the conversation developed. "Though it doesn't explain why you framed Sirius Black for your supposed death, or why you've spent the last several days gathering intelligence about Harry's location rather than seeking protection from the authorities who could have kept you safe from Voldemort's remaining followers."
Peter's expression shifted through several emotional configurations before settling on something that might have been cunning masked as desperation. "Sirius would have killed me if he'd found me first. You don't understand—when I realized James and Lily were dead, I knew he'd blame me. I had to protect myself."
"By murdering twelve innocent bystanders and condemning your best friend to psychological torture in Azkaban prison?" Eurus's voice remained pleasantly conversational, but her pale eyes had acquired the kind of predatory focus that suggested the conversation was approaching its conclusion rather than its negotiation phase. "That seems disproportionate as self-defense measures go, don't you think?"
"I panicked! I wasn't thinking clearly—"
"Oh, but you were thinking very clearly indeed," Eurus interrupted with the kind of precise authority that cut through attempted deception like a blade through tissue paper. "Clear enough to plan the explosion perfectly, clear enough to cut off your own finger for evidence, clear enough to transform and escape through sewage systems before anyone realized what had actually happened. That level of strategic thinking requires considerable advance planning and emotional detachment, not panic."
Peter backed away from her with growing desperation, clearly realizing that this conversation wasn't proceeding according to any scenario he'd prepared for. "What do you want from me? I can't undo what's already happened."
"What I want," Eurus said, beginning to play her violin again, "is for you to experience the consequences of betraying my family. Specifically, the consequences that someone with my particular capabilities can arrange when conventional justice proves inadequate to the situation."
The music that emerged from her instrument was unlike anything Peter had ever heard—mathematically precise but emotionally devastating, carrying harmonics that seemed to resonate with frequencies beyond normal human perception. More disturbing, the melody appeared to be having physical effects on the surrounding environment: the grass beneath their feet began to wither, the Whomping Willow's branches started moving in patterns that suggested response to the music rather than wind, and the very air seemed to thicken with barely contained magical energy.
"That's impossible," Peter whispered, staring at her with growing horror. "You're not magical. Lily said you were a genius but she never mentioned—"
"Lily didn't know about my more specialized capabilities," Eurus replied with evident satisfaction at his reaction. "There are forms of intelligence that transcend the conventional categories your magical community recognizes. Music is mathematics, mathematics is reality manipulation, and reality manipulation is indistinguishable from magic when practiced by someone with sufficient understanding of underlying principles."
The violin's song grew more intense, and Peter's expression shifted from fear to something approaching genuine terror as he began to understand that he was facing someone whose capabilities existed outside the normal parameters of either magical or mundane threat assessment.
"Please," he said, his voice breaking with desperation. "I'll confess. I'll tell them everything—about Sirius being innocent, about how I faked my death, about everything. Just please don't—"
"Oh, you'll definitely confess," Eurus agreed, her music reaching a crescendo that made the ground beneath them tremble with resonant frequency. "But not because I'm threatening you, Peter. You'll confess because it's time for the truth to emerge, and because I've already arranged for appropriate authorities to arrive and collect their evidence."
As if summoned by her words, the sound of approaching footsteps echoed across the castle grounds. Professor McGonagall, Remus Lupin, and Professor Dumbledore were moving toward their location with obvious urgency, guided by whatever methods McGonagall had used to track their current position.
"The question now," Eurus continued, lowering her violin as the footsteps grew closer, "is whether you prefer to cooperate voluntarily or require more direct persuasion. I should mention that my family has considerable experience with interrogation techniques, and we tend to be rather... thorough when gathering information from individuals who've harmed people we care about."
Peter looked between Eurus and the approaching professors, clearly calculating his extremely limited options while processing the terrifying realization that his days of successful hiding had just ended in the worst possible way.
"I'll cooperate," he said finally, his voice carrying the defeated tone of someone who had just realized that all their careful planning had been completely inadequate to the situation they were actually facing. "I'll tell them everything. Just... please don't let her near me again."
"That depends entirely on how truthful your cooperation proves to be," Professor McGonagall's crisp voice announced as she emerged from behind a stand of trees, her wand drawn and pointed directly at Peter with the kind of steady precision that suggested considerable experience with capturing dangerous fugitives. "Mr. Pettigrew, you are under arrest for the murders of James and Lily Potter, the framing of Sirius Black, and the murder of twelve innocent bystanders during your staged death."
Remus appeared beside her, his amber eyes blazing with fury that seemed barely contained by his normally gentle demeanor. "Peter," he said quietly, his voice carrying more menace than any shouting could have achieved, "you have no idea how long I've been waiting for this conversation."
"Gentlemen, lady," Dumbledore said as he joined them, his blue eyes taking in the scene with rapid assessment before focusing on Eurus with obvious curiosity, "perhaps we should continue this discussion in more secure surroundings. I believe we have several matters to address, not least of which is how Miss Holmes managed to locate our fugitive before our own search teams reached his position."
"Elementary," Eurus replied with the kind of satisfied precision that ran in the Holmes family. "I simply thought like a Marauder instead of like a bureaucrat. Though I must say, your castle's security measures are remarkably sophisticated once one understands their underlying principles."
As Peter was secured with magical restraints that would prevent any possibility of transformation or escape, Remus found himself staring at Eurus with growing recognition mixed with confusion.
"You're alive," he said slowly, as if testing the words for accuracy. "Lily mentioned you in her letters, but she thought... we all thought you had died years ago in that fire at the Holmes family estate."
"Reports of my death were greatly exaggerated," Eurus replied with amused satisfaction. "Though the details of my current circumstances might be best discussed privately rather than in front of our recently captured fugitive."
She looked directly at Peter, her pale eyes carrying the kind of cold intelligence that made even hardened criminals reconsider their life choices. "Peter, before we proceed with formal legal proceedings, I want you to understand something very clearly. Harry Potter is under the protection of my family now. If any of Voldemort's remaining followers attempt to harm him, if anyone tries to complete what you started, they'll discover that the Holmes family has resources that make dark wizards seem like amateur enthusiasts playing with dangerous toys."
"I understand," Peter whispered, clearly believing every word she said.
"Excellent. Then let's adjourn to somewhere more comfortable for detailed confessions and the correction of certain unfortunate miscarriages of justice."
As the group began moving back toward Hogwarts Castle, Professor Dumbledore fell into step beside Eurus, his expression thoughtful.
"Miss Holmes," he said quietly, "might I inquire how you came to be at liberty to assist in this matter? The last intelligence I received suggested you were residing at a rather secure governmental facility."
"I was," Eurus confirmed cheerfully. "But family emergencies sometimes require flexibility regarding institutional arrangements. I'm quite certain my temporary absence will be overlooked once the appropriate authorities realize I've successfully captured a wanted fugitive and prevented potential threats to national security."
"And if they don't overlook it?"
Eurus's smile was sharp and satisfied. "Then they'll learn that some people are considerably more dangerous when they're properly motivated than when they're simply bored."
Behind them, Peter Pettigrew trudged toward justice with the defeated posture of someone who had finally understood that betraying the family of Eurus Holmes had been the worst strategic decision of his considerably misspent life.
---
## The Three Broomsticks Inn - Private Dining Room - 9:45 PM
The private dining room at the Three Broomsticks had been hastily cleared of its usual clientele and warded with privacy charms that would ensure their conversation remained completely secure from any form of eavesdropping, magical or mundane. Madam Rosmerta had provided the space with the kind of efficient discretion that suggested she was accustomed to accommodating unusual requests from Hogwarts faculty during crisis situations.
Peter Pettigrew sat in a chair that had been reinforced with restraint charms, his wrists bound with magical shackles that glowed softly to indicate their active prevention of any transformation attempts. His appearance was even more pathetic under the inn's warm lighting—thin, prematurely aged, with the particular kind of exhausted defeat that came from knowing that years of careful planning had just collapsed completely.
Around the room's perimeter, the key figures in his capture had arranged themselves according to a careful hierarchy of authority and personal interest in ensuring his cooperation. Professor Dumbledore occupied the head of the table with the kind of quiet dignity that made even confession sessions feel like civilized academic discussions. Professor McGonagall had positioned herself where she could monitor both Peter and the room's various entrances, her wand within easy reach and her expression carrying the particular severity she reserved for individuals who had threatened her students.
Remus sat directly across from Peter, his amber eyes carrying a mixture of betrayed friendship and barely controlled fury that made the air around him seem to crackle with potential violence. Despite his normally gentle demeanor, there was something predatory about his stillness that suggested he was calculating exactly how much physical retribution he could deliver before the others intervened.
Eurus Holmes occupied a chair slightly apart from the official proceedings, her violin case open beside her and her pale eyes bright with the kind of intellectual satisfaction that came from watching complex plans reach their intended conclusions. She had declined the formal questioning role, preferring to observe and offer commentary when psychological expertise proved necessary.
"Mr. Pettigrew," Dumbledore began with the tone of someone conducting a tutorial rather than an interrogation, "I believe it would be most efficient if you simply began at the beginning and told us everything. Your betrayal of the Potters, your staged death, your activities during the past days, and any information you possess about remaining Death Eater activities that might threaten students or staff."
Peter's response was barely audible, his voice carrying the defeated quality of someone who had finally accepted that resistance was futile. "Where... where do you want me to start?"
"With your decision to betray James and Lily," Remus said, his voice cutting through the room's civility with barely controlled anger. "I want to understand how someone I considered a friend could condemn two of the best people we'd ever known to death while simultaneously destroying the life of another friend who trusted you completely."
Peter flinched as if he'd been struck, his watery eyes darting around the room as if seeking some avenue of escape that obviously didn't exist. "I never meant for it to happen. You have to believe me—when I first agreed to help the Dark Lord, I thought he was just gathering information. I didn't realize he was planning to attack them directly."
"Interesting opening statement," Eurus observed conversationally from her position at the room's edge. "Immediate deflection of responsibility combined with false emotional appeals designed to generate sympathy. Classic manipulation technique, though rather crude in its execution."
"It's the truth!" Peter protested, his voice rising with desperation.
"No, Peter, it's the story you've constructed to make yourself feel better about being a traitor and a murderer," Remus replied coldly. "Tell us what actually happened, not the version you've invented to preserve your own self-image."
Dumbledore's expression remained diplomatically neutral, though his blue eyes had lost their characteristic twinkle as he absorbed the implications of Peter's attempted deception. "Perhaps we might approach this differently. Mr. Pettigrew, when did you first make contact with Lord Voldemort's organization?"
The question was phrased with academic politeness, but carried the weight of someone who possessed both the authority to demand answers and the resources to verify whatever information was provided. Peter seemed to recognize that his audience was considerably more sophisticated than he'd initially calculated.
"During seventh year," he admitted reluctantly. "There were recruiters... people who approached students they thought might be sympathetic to the cause. They made it sound like joining was about protecting the wizarding world from muggle influence and preserving traditional magical culture."
"And you found these arguments compelling?" McGonagall inquired with the kind of dry skepticism that suggested she'd heard similar justifications from students who'd been caught cheating on exams.
"I found the attention compelling," Eurus corrected with clinical precision. "Peter's psychological profile indicates someone with chronic validation-seeking behavior who would be susceptible to recruitment by any organization that made him feel important and valued. The specific ideology would be secondary to the emotional manipulation."
Peter's expression grew sullen, clearly resenting the psychological analysis even as its accuracy was undeniable. "They said I could be useful. That my position with James and Sirius and Remus gave me access to information about Order activities that could help protect wizard families from muggle persecution."
"The Order of the Phoenix," Dumbledore said quietly, his voice carrying the weight of personal betrayal alongside professional disappointment. "You compromised our operations from the very beginning of your association with us."
"Not at first," Peter said quickly, as if timing somehow mitigated the scope of his treachery. "At first I just provided general information—meeting locations, attendance lists, nothing that would identify specific plans or endanger individual members."
"Until?" Remus prompted with dangerous quiet.
"Until they started asking for more specific intelligence. About James and Lily specifically. About their baby, about their protection arrangements, about the prophecy..." Peter's voice trailed off as he realized he was confessing to progressively worse crimes.
The silence that followed was so complete that even the inn's background sounds from the public room seemed to fade into insignificance.
"The prophecy," Dumbledore repeated slowly, his expression growing grave with recognition of how deeply the security breach had extended. "You provided Voldemort with information about the prophecy concerning Harry."
"I didn't know what it meant!" Peter protested desperately. "I thought it was just another piece of intelligence they wanted for strategic planning purposes. I didn't realize it would make Harry a target for murder!"
"Fascinating cognitive dissonance," Eurus observed with the tone of someone examining a particularly interesting psychological specimen. "You simultaneously claim ignorance of the prophecy's implications while admitting you knew it concerned Harry specifically. That level of willful self-deception requires considerable mental effort to maintain."
"You knew exactly what you were doing, Peter," Remus said with quiet fury. "You were feeding information about your friends to people you knew were their enemies. Everything else is just rationalization after the fact."
McGonagall leaned forward with the kind of focused attention that had terrified generations of students. "Mr. Pettigrew, I want you to understand something very clearly. Your cooperation with this inquiry may influence the conditions of your incarceration, but it will not reduce the fundamental charges against you. You are guilty of treason, multiple murders, and the wrongful imprisonment of an innocent man. The only question is whether you're going to make the investigation process more difficult than necessary."
Peter seemed to shrink into himself, finally beginning to understand that no amount of explanation or justification was going to significantly alter his circumstances.
"What do you want to know?" he asked in defeat.
"Everything," Dumbledore replied simply. "Every contact with Death Eater operatives, every piece of information you provided, every operation you compromised. And then we need to know about your activities since your supposed death—where you've been hiding, what intelligence you've gathered, what contacts you've maintained with Voldemort's remaining supporters."
For the next two hours, Peter provided a detailed confession that painted a comprehensive picture of betrayal that was both more systematic and more devastating than any of them had initially realized. His intelligence activities had compromised dozens of Order operations, endangered numerous families, and provided Voldemort's organization with strategic advantages that had directly contributed to their victims' deaths.
The scope of his treachery was so extensive that even Eurus, who had expected considerable psychological pathology, found herself impressed by the sheer scale of his capacity for betrayal.
"Remarkable," she commented during a brief recess while Peter was provided with water and food under guard. "Most people who engage in systematic betrayal develop some form of psychological defense mechanism to preserve their self-image. Peter appears to have simply embraced his role as a parasite while maintaining the illusion that his actions were somehow justified by circumstances beyond his control."
"Is that particularly unusual?" Remus asked, his voice carrying the hollow quality of someone whose fundamental assumptions about human nature had been systematically destroyed over the course of the evening.
"Not unusual, exactly, but rarely so comprehensive," Eurus replied thoughtfully. "Most traitors compartmentalize their activities or develop elaborate moral justifications for their behavior. Peter seems to have simply decided that his own survival and comfort were more important than anyone else's welfare, then constructed whatever narrative was necessary to make that position seem reasonable."
"Sociopathic?" McGonagall inquired with professional curiosity.
"Selfish and weak," Eurus corrected with clinical precision. "Sociopaths typically have grand visions of their own importance and superior intelligence. Peter's just someone who never developed the capacity to prioritize other people's welfare over his own immediate comfort. Less psychologically interesting than actual evil, but potentially more dangerous because it's so much more common."
When the formal confession concluded, Peter had provided enough detailed information about Death Eater activities to keep Ministry investigators busy for months. More immediately important, his testimony regarding Sirius Black's innocence was comprehensive enough to ensure immediate review of the case and probable release within days rather than years.
"Mr. Pettigrew," Dumbledore said as Ministry officials arrived to take custody of their prisoner, "I want you to understand that your cooperation tonight has been noted and will be considered during your sentencing proceedings. However, I also want you to understand that the wizarding world will not forget what you did to James and Lily Potter, or the suffering you caused Sirius Black through your cowardice."
Peter nodded mutely, clearly beyond any capacity for further emotional response to the gravity of his situation.
As he was led away in magical restraints that would prevent any possibility of transformation or escape, Remus turned to Eurus with an expression of exhausted gratitude mixed with lingering confusion.
"Thank you," he said simply. "Without your intervention, he might have remained hidden indefinitely while Sirius rotted in Azkaban for crimes he didn't commit."
"Family obligations," Eurus replied with characteristic precision. "Though I must admit, the intellectual challenge was equally motivating. I do so enjoy problems that require creative solutions and unconventional approaches."
"Speaking of which," Professor Dumbledore said with diplomatic curiosity, "might I inquire about your current status regarding the governmental facility from which you recently departed? I imagine certain authorities will have questions about your temporary absence."
Eurus smiled with the kind of satisfied confidence that suggested she had already considered and resolved this particular complication. "Professor Dumbledore, I believe you'll find that by tomorrow morning, my assistance in capturing a wanted fugitive will be seen as sufficiently valuable to outweigh any concerns about institutional protocols. The British government is remarkably pragmatic when properly motivated."
"And if they're not?"
"Then they'll discover that some people are considerably more useful as willing consultants than as reluctant prisoners," Eurus replied cheerfully. "Besides, I suspect my family will have some influence over the final determination of my circumstances."
As the group prepared to return to Hogwarts, Professor McGonagall approached Eurus with the kind of professional respect that she typically reserved for colleagues who had demonstrated exceptional competence under pressure.
"Miss Holmes," she said formally, "I want you to know that your actions tonight have prevented what could have been a catastrophic security breach. If Pettigrew had succeeded in gathering intelligence about Harry's location or our protective measures, the consequences could have been devastating for everyone involved."
"I'm sure they would have been," Eurus agreed with diplomatic modesty. "Though I should point out that your search teams would have located him eventually. I simply provided a more... efficient resolution to the situation."
"Nevertheless, the wizarding world owes you a considerable debt."
Eurus's expression grew thoughtful, her pale eyes carrying the kind of calculating intelligence that suggested she was already planning her next move in whatever complex game she was playing.
"Professor McGonagall," she said eventually, "I wonder if you might consider allowing me to visit Hogwarts occasionally? For educational purposes, of course. I find magical theory fascinating, and I suspect there are aspects of your curriculum that might benefit from exposure to different analytical methodologies."
The request was phrased with polite academic interest, but there was something in her tone that suggested considerably more specific intentions behind the seemingly casual inquiry.
"I... suppose such visits might be arranged," McGonagall replied cautiously, clearly recognizing that agreeing to regular contact with Eurus Holmes might prove both valuable and potentially complicated. "Though any such arrangement would require careful coordination with appropriate authorities to ensure proper security protocols."
"Naturally. I wouldn't want to cause any disruption to your excellent educational programs."
As they made their way back toward Hogwarts Castle, where the lights in the windows promised warmth and safety for the hundreds of students who had been unknowingly protected by the night's activities, Remus found himself contemplating the remarkable chain of events that had led to justice finally being served.
Peter Pettigrew was finally facing the consequences of his betrayal, Sirius Black would soon be freed from wrongful imprisonment, and Harry Potter remained safely protected by a family whose resources and determination exceeded anything the magical world had previously encountered.
It was, he reflected, either the most satisfactory resolution to a terrible injustice that he could have imagined, or the beginning of complications that would make their previous problems seem manageable by comparison.
Given that they were dealing with the Holmes family, it was almost certainly both.
---
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