Ch 115
The room was dim. The walls were almost entirely covered with medieval-style adventure tapestries and portraits of Salazar Slytherin himself, layered with dark green silk hangings. Several small beds were draped with silver sheets, and above them hung delicate silver lanterns that cast a cold, watery glow.
Because of Christmas, every Slytherin student had left the dormitory. Now only one person—and one rat—remained.
"So? Reduced to trembling at the bark of a dog?"
Malfoy crouched down and examined the enormous iron cage before him. The sight was absurd—this cage was large enough to hold a grown man, yet inside it was only a single rat, curled into a miserable ball in the corner.
"Oh, look at this."
Malfoy feigned surprise and pulled out a piece of parchment filled with intricate lines and names. He waved it deliberately in front of the cage.
"Isn't your name Scabbers? Then why does this map label you as Peter?"
His grey eyes narrowed with mock amusement.
"Seems the Weasley family treated you well. Even gave you such a common, harmless name."
He tapped lightly on the metal bars. The black iron was polished to such a deep sheen that it seemed to swallow the surrounding light.
The moment the rat saw the map, everything became clear. He no longer wondered how a cage had dropped from nowhere halfway through his escape. But understanding brought no comfort.
"You're thinner than I imagined. Any slimmer and even this cage might not hold you."
Malfoy stroked his chin thoughtfully.
"How is it here? Never visited Slytherin dormitories before, have you? Do you find the air more familiar than Gryffindor's?"
He spread his arms as though welcoming a guest.
"But even in Slytherin, betrayal is rare. It's something people spit on."
Each word tightened the invisible noose around the rat's mind. Terror coiled around him like a python. He desperately wanted to transform back into his human form and beg, yet the cage completely suppressed his magic. He could only squeak in frantic panic.
"Am I right, Peter Pettigrew? The Dark Lord didn't exactly have a loyal servant in you, did he?"
Malfoy raised an eyebrow.
"Or perhaps you prefer the name Wormtail?"
The rat pressed himself against the corner, shaking violently, fur standing on end. His tiny black eyes darted about, searching for any impossible escape.
"You must be wondering how I learned this secret."
Malfoy's tone grew softer, more dangerous.
"I was lucky." He continued. "Your current owner's twin brothers gave me a very useful map."
He sighed.
"Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, Prongs… When you helped create it, did you ever imagine it would expose you one day?"
The trembling slowly ceased.
"You must have visited Filch's office often," Malfoy went on. "We get along well these days. He complains about a rat stealing Mrs. Norris's food."
"You wanted the map back, didn't you? To escape Black's pursuit."
Malfoy sneered.
"Always the coward. You never face problems—only run, and when there's nowhere left to run, you betray."
He clapped his hands lightly, though there was no praise in the sound.
"So, does that answer your question?"
Malfoy rested his wand against his chin in mock contemplation.
"Do you think a dog-and-rat fight would be entertaining?"
He laughed softly.
"I'm rather eager to see what happens if you share a cage."
He pointed his wand beneath the bed.
Peter followed the motion—and felt his heart freeze.
In the darkness sat another cage, far larger. Inside lay a familiar black dog.
The source of his nightmares.
Peter's body began to tremble again, more violently than before. Years of living as a rat had given him keen night vision. He could see Black breathing quietly, eyes gleaming.
He scratched desperately at the metal floor, leaving ugly marks.
"Or perhaps you can walk Black's path."
Malfoy ignored his panic and drew out a small vial.
"I still have some Veritaserum left. Care for a taste?"
He shook the bottle where a little liquid remained.
"Black's will is impressive," Malfoy said with disdain. "Took half a bottle before he started speaking."
He looked at Peter coldly.
"You… one drop should be enough."
At last Peter understood how his secrets had been uncovered.
But survival instinct forced his mind to race for any excuse, any plea.
Before he could think, a wand slipped through the bars. A blinding blue-white flash erupted.
The rat shrieked as light swallowed him.
His body twisted, stretched—like a grotesque plant in fast motion. A head emerged, limbs followed, and soon a man stood where the rat had been, wringing his hands in terror.
"How long since you last bathed?"
Malfoy stepped closer, disgust clear in his eyes.
Then his tone softened unexpectedly.
"Still… your luck isn't entirely bad, Peter."
---
Compared to Peter Pettigrew, Sirius Black was far less fortunate.
Even the cleverest fox cannot outwit a prepared hunter forever.
Rewinding to the day Malfoy finished speaking with Fudge—
He returned through the snow to Hogwarts and received delightful news.
Filch, lantern in hand, hurried to inform him that the black dog had been captured. He led Malfoy to his still-grimy office smelling of grilled fish.
"Look—this one, right?" Filch said proudly.
On the desk sat an iron cage. Inside, a massive black dog stared at them with unsettling focus.
Sirius Black.
His eyes showed no fear—only cold hostility.
Malfoy had asked Filch for help, claiming a stray dog was disturbing the dormitories at night. It was the first time a student had sought Filch's assistance, and the caretaker had worked with surprising enthusiasm.
With the Marauder's Map, Malfoy had tracked Black's movements and set traps along the routes.
The fugitive who had escaped Azkaban fell easily into a simple cage.
"Shall we hand him to the Headmaster?" Filch asked excitedly.
"And watch Dumbledore forgive him?" Malfoy shrugged.
"No! Took ages to catch him!" Filch protested, glancing fondly at Mrs. Norris.
"She's been listless because of this dog."
"How about dog-meat hotpot?" Malfoy snapped his fingers.
"Can you eat it?" Filch swallowed.
"Of course."
After some chatter, Malfoy carried the cage away.
But instead of returning to the dormitory, he climbed to the eighth floor.
I need a quiet place… I need a quiet place…
He paced before the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy. Suddenly a smooth door appeared.
"Secluded enough, don't you think?" he said to the dog.
Inside was the Room of Requirement—towering piles of forbidden objects, broken furniture, banned books, congealed potions.
"First time here," Malfoy muttered, setting the cage down.
He knelt before it.
"Allow me to introduce myself. Draco Malfoy. By blood I should call you Uncle, perhaps."
Black only snorted, watching warily.
"Oh—forgot something."
Malfoy pointed his wand and muttered the counter-spell.
The dog grew, limbs lengthening, fur fading—until Sirius Black stood within the cage, forced to crouch to fit.
The meeting between them had finally begun.