Ch 129
"Remus, I'm glad you came looking for me. As you know, I've been terribly busy these past few days—rushing from place to place giving speeches. I only had time to come here because Harry invited me to watch the match. Now, at last, we finally have a chance to talk."
Peter Pettigrew knocked lightly on the door to Lupin's office. When he realized it wasn't locked, he pushed it open and walked in, finding Remus Lupin seated behind an old wooden desk, his expression weary.
"My friend, you're still living in such poverty," Peter said with a sigh that sounded sympathetic but carried a trace of condescension.
It was Peter's first time inside Lupin's office. To the left stood a dusty bookshelf, being half-heartedly cleaned by a dark-green enchanted brush that somehow made things worse. To the right was a gray-black rubbish bin filled with spent potion dregs. Peter picked up a quill from the desk and twirled it between his fingers, surveying everything with the indulgent gaze of someone newly risen to fame.
Poor. Hopeless. No future.
"You could find a better job," Peter Pettigrew said.
Human nature was complicated, and nowhere was that clearer than in Peter. Now successful and celebrated, he had tasted a world far beyond his former imagination. Everywhere he went, people treated him as a hero.
Those admiring gazes filled him with a smug, childish pride. Like a boy showing off a new toy, he longed to flaunt his success before an old friend.
Come on—beg me, he thought. I'm famous now. I could help you, Remus. One word to the Ministry, and all your problems would vanish.
He desperately wanted recognition from his former friend—envy, jealousy, anything to reassure him that he had finally surpassed them.
"I'm fine, Peter," Lupin replied calmly. "Teaching suits me. Seeing curiosity in my students' eyes is enough for me."
"Oh… still so stubborn," Peter said, a hint of disappointment creeping into his voice. "So why did you want to see me today?"
"Just an ordinary talk between old friends," Lupin said softly, lifting his wand from the desk.
With a faint creak, the office door swung shut behind Peter.
"We haven't seen each other in twelve years," Lupin continued quietly, gazing up at the oil lamp overhead. "Yet it feels like yesterday. I thought you were dead—until that night. You were so close to me… living as a student's pet."
"Justice may be late," Peter declared, patting his chest, "but it's never absent."
It was a line Malfoy had taught him for his speeches—one that always moved audiences to tears.
"I used to believe that too," Lupin said, nodding faintly. "Evil never triumphs over good. Voldemort brought about his own downfall."
At the sound of his former master's name, Peter's short, stout body shuddered. He nearly stumbled.
At that moment, the bookshelf beside him began to creak ominously.
"Remus, you really should replace that shelf," Peter said nervously. "It looks like it's about to collapse. Want me to buy you a new one? A gift—from an old friend."
The shelf shook harder, the books rattling as though something behind it were straining to break free.
Peter's sense of danger screamed. He drew his wand and aimed it at the bookshelf.
"Drop your wand."
A figure burst out from behind the shelf. A scarlet flash flew faster than Peter could react. His wand was ripped from his hand and sent spinning through the air—only to be caught neatly by the newcomer.
Peter stumbled backward, staring in horror.
It was Sirius Black.
Tall and gaunt, eyes blazing with feverish intensity, hair matted and hanging to his elbows—he looked like a living corpse. In Peter's memory, Sirius should have been a helpless black dog in an iron cage.
"Lupin! What is this?" Peter screamed. "Are you with him? Have you forgotten—he's the one who killed James and Lily! He nearly killed me!"
"I regret not killing you myself back then," Sirius growled, licking his lips like a predator that had finally cornered its prey.
"Calm down, Sirius," Lupin said quietly.
"I've heard two very different stories," Lupin continued, stepping between them. "One of you is lying."
"Remus," Peter pleaded, panic creeping into his voice, "since when do you believe the honeyed lies of a Dark wizard? Help me subdue him—together we can—"
"If you can still lie after drinking truth serum," Lupin interrupted hoarsely, "then I'll believe you."
Peter froze.
Truth serum.
Fear crushed his chest.
One name flashed through his mind: Draco Malfoy.
How had Sirius escaped the cage? Where had the serum come from? In Peter's memory, only Malfoy had ever possessed it.
Regret flooded him. His one moment of mercy—his refusal to kill Sirius when Malfoy suggested it—had led to this.
"Peter," Lupin said, holding up a small transparent bottle, "this is your last chance. Drink it, and answer my questions."
Peter retreated until his back hit the wall, curling into the shadows.
"A joke," he sneered weakly. "That's probably poison."
"Then Sirius and I will drink first," Lupin replied calmly. "This is the only way left."
He stared at Peter, eyes heavy with sorrow and resolve.
Even Lupin had never imagined that everything would unravel so completely—so quickly.