A Promise Kept - Chapter 43 - Rat Trap

Rat Trap

He grimaced as he took another sip of his Firewhiskey. His head was throbbing, and the stubble on his chin was rough from neglect. Sirius wasn’t certain if he’d slept at all these past days, or perhaps he’d simply lost consciousness in his alcohol-induced state.

Regardless, he’d not been sober for long after leaving Azkaban.

He knew it was not the answer to his problems, but for a while, he just wanted to forget, or wallow in his misery. There would be no answers at the bottom of the bottle, nor absolution.

Still, he sought something other than guilt and regret.

Remus may have volunteered to seek out the werewolves, but Sirius had done nothing to convince him otherwise. Maybe he was placing too much of the blame on his own shoulders.

He shrugged as he took another sip of his chosen poison, coughing from how raw his throat was.

He would always regret that the two of them had lost touch for so many years, for the arduous life Remus had gone on to live after Voldemort’s fall. Nothing would change that.

He shook his head sadly, only to find that the bottle was no longer in his hand to seek his solace in.

Frowning confusedly, his bleary eyes came to rest on the woman who’d intruded on his solitude.

“Give it back,” he slurred.

“No.”

He released a deep sigh before snatching for the bottle, only to find it out of reach.

“Vance…”

“Black.”

He scowled at the woman, and he became just a little more sober than he’d like.

“Please.”

“You can’t hide from it, Sirius, and you can’t change what has happened. What you can do is exactly what is needed of you. You can make it right, but not like this. Too many people need you right now. There is a school that will be full of children soon who will be frightened, who will need their headmaster to be there to reassure them that they are safe. Not only that, but Britain also needs you, Sirius. You’re the one person who can drum up enough support to stop Malfoy and his lot on the Wizengamot. I get it. I remember what it was like when we lost Marlene, Dorcas, the Prewetts, and the others. This isn’t the way.”

Sirius swallowed deeply and rubbed his eyes.

“It doesn’t matter what I do,” he murmured. “It won’t be me that stops him. That will be Harry,” he finished with a smile.

Emmeline eyed him.

“Maybe that is true, but he won’t do it alone, and it is up to you now to do what you can, even if it only slows him down. We need you, Black.”

Sirius laughed, and the room began to spin from the exertion.

When he woke up, Emmeline was gone, and the sun had risen.

How long he was out, he didn’t know, but the smell of the alcohol was stale in the room, and the taste in his mouth made him want to vomit.

Still, he was sober enough to remember that he’d not been alone, what had happened at Azkaban, and why he was in such a deplorable state.

With a shake of his head, he left the kitchen of Grimmauld Place, and dared not take in his reflection in the mirror as he passed it on his way to the bathroom from disgust at what he would see.

He felt no better for his sobriety, but he did not feel worse.

It was a numbness that had taken him, but with it, a clarity that had been absent since he’d looked upon what little remained of Remus Lupin.

Many apprehensive expressions greeted him as he stood to welcome the students back to Hogwarts, but there were those among them that sat a little straighter, who looked just a little more cocksure of themselves, and Sirius would be watching them closely.

“I understand that the news of the mass breakout of Azkaban is unsettling,” he began gravely, “but I want to assure you that measures are in place to prevent any of you finding yourselves in danger.”

He had indeed been adding further protections to the school, some of which would be heavily frowned upon, but what none knew, none would be hurt by, well, not unless they brought it on themselves by provoking the protections.

“As such, visits to Hogsmeade are cancelled until further notice. I understand that this is disappointing for you, but it is a necessary measure. Further to this, all mail coming in and out of the school will be monitored closely to ensure nothing that should not be here finds its way into the castle. And finally, there will be no leeway when it comes to bigoted behaviour. I have discussed this with the other professors, and any transgression of these rules will be punished most severely. I urge each of you to really consider your words and actions carefully.”

He retook his seat, and the students began murmuring amongst themselves, some much less happy than they’d been upon their arrival.

Sirius meant every word he’d spoken.

He could not allow Hogwarts to become what it once had during his own time here, and he would sooner be rid of those that proved to be problematic than tolerate it as Albus had.

Minerva offered him a supportive nod, and though he was pleased for the distraction, Sirius could not profess to feel much better than he had these past days.

The numbness remained with him, but he knew he needed to press on.

The best way he could honour Remus’s sacrifice was to see to it that his death wasn’t in vain, even if right now, all seemed to be rather hopeless in the face of what was to come.

No, it wasn’t hopeless.

As much as it shamed him to even think of it, there would always be hope so long as there were those willing to stand up for what was right, and there was one boy that would one day never rest until the threat of Voldemort no longer hung over them.

Harry had been quiet since they’d left Azkaban, contemplative, and somehow more aloof than ever.

What was running through the boys’ mind, Sirius did not know.

What he did know, however, was that Harry was resilient, and never idle.

It was concerning in many ways. Slowly but surely, the boy was on his way to manhood, and even now, Sirius had more than a glimpse of what kind of man he was becoming.

Oh, he was proud of Harry, but that did not stop him worrying about his godson, and what he was undoubtedly willing to do to put an end to the war that was all but upon them.

(Break)

“And on this day we lay to rest, Remus John Lupin, beloved friend.”

Harry watched as the coffin was lowered into the ground. As per his wishes from the previous war, Remus was to be buried next to his parents.

The service had been conducted well enough, and Sirius had spared no expense to see it done quickly, even if the grave itself was mostly empty. Aside from his head, nothing else of the man would be recovered, and only the members of the Order of the Phoenix were in attendance.

Of course, Fudge had done his utmost to silence what had happened at Azkaban, to no avail.

An anonymous source had provided the media with all they needed to ensure the public was made aware of the escaped Death Eaters, and the Minister’s press conference had been little more than a myriad of excuses from the man with very loose promises that all was being done to apprehend them.

It was a small victory for Harry that he had been the one to use the media to his advantage.

Sirius was certainly in no fit state to act when he was needed, and the public had a right to know.

There had been no mention of what had befallen Remus, but there was something very suspicious about how he’d died.

It had been a foolish risk to take, placing himself among the werewolves, and there was little to gain from it. It wasn’t as though he was going to depose Greyback, and nor would he have been able to convince his followers to abandon him.

No, it had been a pointless venture, and a pointless death.

Both Sirius and his mother had been devastated by Remus’s loss, and tough Harry was saddened by it, to him, Remus was just another casualty of war, and he wouldn’t be the last.

Perhaps having lost his father at a young age and then Dumbledore, death had become a little too familiar for him, or it was that he chose to be angry on behalf of the fallen rather than lose himself in grief.

Harry was certain, but what he was sure of was that Remus Lupin had all but died for nothing, and the circumstances were a little too suspicious for his liking.

He’d been marked.

The magic was faint, but discernible, but it was there.

Someone had taken it upon themselves to put a trace of sorts on Remus so that he could be identified amongst the werewolves as an outsider.

Harry had not mentioned it to Sirius nor his mother, but he was certain of foul play, if it could be considered such in an act of war. He would certainly use all he had at his disposal, and Riddle certainly wasn’t beyond such.

Even so, it was an underhand tactic that Harry could respect, but he did not appreciate seeing Sirius suffer as he was.

At least the man was sober now, but despite his best efforts, he wore his grief as though it was an open wound.

“Come, we should get you home,” Harry’s mother urged.

Sirius nodded and gave his shoulder an encouraging squeeze, and the three of them left the churchyard, only to return to an equally sombre home for the final day of the Christmas break.

“Harry?”

“I’m alright,” he assured Wendell, who quirked his eyebrow disbelievingly. “I am. This is just one of many things I expect from him.”

“You have a list?”

Harry nodded.

“He’s quite predictable in a lot of ways, but wildly chaotic at the same time.”

“What else is on your list?”

Hary chuckled humourlessly.

“Things that are much worse than this.”

Wendell cursed under his breath as he looked towards the others.

“Don’t you think you should…”

Harry shook his head.

“No,” he said firmly. “Voldemort is my problem to deal with.”

He would not lie to his friends, and he knew nothing he could say would bring them any comfort, but he didn’t intend to. What he found himself embroiled in was insane as it was necessary, and Harry had accepted long ago that he would have to do much the same Riddle was willing to if he was to survive.

As far as he was concerned, it was him or the Dark Lord that had murdered his father, and those that chose to willingly follow him in order to inflict heartache, misery and violence upon others.

To Harry, there was nothing to think about, and soon enough, it would be time for him to act.

Two years of school remained, and yet, he knew he could not wait so long to begin doing what was needed. No, he did not doubt that Voldemort would somehow find a way to seize control of Britain in the interim, but so long as Harry was not idle, every strike against his foe was one step closer to putting an end to him.

Quite the task for any, even the most seasoned of wizards, but Fate was Fate, and Harry had no intention of allowing something he could scarcely fathom take anything else from him.

No, he had suffered enough, and now, it was Voldemort’s turn to feel that same sting of loss.

“We’re here,” Wendell announced as the carriage they were in arrived at the gates of the school.

Evidently, the news of the escaped prisoners had indeed reached the eyes and ears if the stares Harry was receiving was anything to go by. It was quite revelation, after all.

No one had ever escaped from Azkaban, well, not in such a brazen way, at least.

Harry knew better, of course.

Crouch had helped his son do the very same, though with much fewer consequences to follow.

“Harry Potter!”

“What does that little shit want?” Wendell said warily as Sid hurried towards them.

Usually, being sought out by the surly Pukwudgie was not something to celebrate, but Harry felt his mood brighten considerably as Sid placed a sealed tin of a particularly odious cleaning product into his hand and offered him a satisfied nod.

“Thank you,” Harry said sincerely. “If there is anything I can do for you, you need only ask.”

“I was happy to help with this, Harry Potter.”

He shot the rest of the group a filthy look before returning to the castle, and Harry shook the tin, fighting the urge to smile as something within squeaked.

“Why would he give you cleaning products?” Maggie asked confusedly.

“Thanks to Sid, we no longer have a vermin problem in the school.”

“We had vermin?” Marisa asked.

Harry nodded.

“Rats, apparently. I helped him get rid of them.”

The others looked at him confusedly, and Harry simply placed the tin in his pocket, eager to open it.

For the better part of his life, he had dreamed of this moment, fantasised about what he would do when it inevitably arrived, and now that it had, he could not wait to begin unfolding the many plans he had concocted where Peter Pettigrew was concerned.

(Break)

She was certain that if she paced for much longer, the varnish from the wooden floor would begin to wear away, but she simply could not sit still. Harry, Sirius, and Nymphadora had left almost three hours prior, and there had been no word from them since.

“They will be fine,” Andromeda repeated.

Lily wasn’t certain if she was trying to comfort her or herself.

What had happened was unprecedented, and the implications of it were nothing short of terrifying.

It was impossible to forget what the likes of the Lestranges had done, what horrors Rowle, Rookwood, Travers, and the rest had inflicted upon others. Andromeda knew it of her sister better than any other.

She had grown up with Bellatrix, and Ted Tonks certainly had not forgotten.

The man had paled and remained silent since they’d received the news of the breakout, and here Lily was, waiting for her son to return after visiting the very prison they’d absconded from.

How he’d come to know Amelia Bones was beyond her, let alone how the woman had thought it appropriate for him to go to the island that none wished to find themselves visiting.

Before she could ponder it further however, Harry entered the kitchen with Nymphadora, who shook her head.

She was pale, trembling slightly, and her eyes red-rimmed from where she’d been crying.

Lily frowned confusedly.

Harry, for the most part, seemed to be unfazed by whatever it was they’d endured.

“It’s true then?” Andromeda asked.

Nymphadora nodded.

“Fifteen of them including Bellatrix. The worst of the worst.”

“Then I think you have some explaining to do, young lady. No fool would free them, and they certainly didn’t do it themselves. Where is Sirius?”

Nymphadora visibly swallowed.

“Grimmauld Place,” Harry answered. “Probably halfway through a bottle of Firewhiskey by now. Remus is dead. Voldemort left his head in Azkaban.”

Lily felt her eyes widen, and her mouth instantly dried. She was lost for words for the shock and horror she felt, but as Harry made his way towards the kitchen door to take his leave, she stepped in front of him.

“This doesn’t mean you are excused from lying to me.”

“Lying to you?”

“When did you visit Azkaban?” she asked.

He shook his head.

“I was asked to go to verify something. We dug up Barty Crouch’s grave only to find the body of his mother there instead of him. Bones asked for my help.”

“And you thought you should keep that from me?”

Harry shrugged, and Lily could see that he was quickly becoming irritated.

“I suppose I’m not so different from you then.”

“I have not lied to you, Harry, about anything.”

“Nor did I, but lying by omission is okay, isn’t it?”

“And what does that mean?” Lily returned.

“You tell me, Mum.”

He stepped past her before she could offer a response, and she was struck by his expression. The anger was all but gone, replaced by disappointment, and hurt.

“I think there is a lot of explaining to be done,” Andromeda spoke up once more. “Nymphadora?”

The woman had not taken her daughter’s involvement with the Order well, and the two had quite the heated exchange.

For Lily’s part, she’d remained silent, contemplating her own woes with her son, and she wondered how they had seemingly drifted so far apart these past months.

In many ways, it was like she did not recognise him anymore, and he did not help by treating her as though she was a stranger.

Harry had changed from the little boy she’d spent hours comforting after a nightmare to a young man that was seemingly unafraid of the rapidly darkening world.

Truthfully, she knew she shouldn’t be surprised. Both she and James were bold, but Harry, he was something else entirely. He’d always been brave, had to be kept on a tight leash to prevent him from exploring beyond his capabilities as a child.

Now, Lily was afraid that she no longer had such a leash, that given all that had happened and what was to come, she had nothing at her disposal to rein her son in when he perhaps found himself in deeper than he could handle.

She’d never forgotten those other traits, the vengefulness, the cunning, and the willingness to do whatever he deemed necessary to reach his goals.

Harry had always been driven, and it had been easy to ignore the motivation behind it with Voldemort out of the picture, but now that he was back, it was no longer so.

As much as she wished it wasn’t so, there was no denying that Harry was making moves against the Dark Lord that had murdered his father, that he had spent his life preparing for this eventuality, and in doing so, was all but ready to throw himself into the conflict he’d been born into.

It terrified her to no end, and with the thoughts of the prophecy once more plaguing her mind, she could only see one way that this would conclude.

Either Harry would somehow manage to succeed where all others failed, or she would find herself burying her son; something no mother ever wished to envision.

“He knows, doesn’t he?” she murmured as Sirius entered the kitchen.

“Knows what?”

“About the prophecy.”

Sirius shook his head.

“I don’t see how.”

Lily could not quite work it out, and maybe Harry did not know the specific wording of what had been spoken to Albus so many years prior, but she did not doubt he somehow knew.

Perhaps it was the magic itself at work, pushing him blindly in the direction he was taking, and that very thought was frightening. Worse than him having become aware of the fate that awaited him, was the notion that it was happening organically and without him knowing why.

“I have to tell him,” she sighed.

“You were always going to have to tell him.”

“But only when he was ready, Sirius.”

“How do you know he isn’t now?” the man returned. “Lily, I know he is your son and you want nothing more than to protect him, but you can’t, not from Voldemort, and not from himself. It is better that he is informed and make smart decisions, and I think you need to have a little more faith in him.”

“I do have faith in him!”

“I know, but you need to understand that Harry is not as much like you or me as we’d like if the circumstances were different. Bloody hell, I don’t think I have ever met anyone more perfect for what it is he must do. He’s a born fighter, and as much as you don’t like to think of him that way, that is what he is. Believe me, I would prefer to preserve what little innocence he has left, maybe let him have a few years to just enjoy being a teenager, but that isn’t possible anymore. What he needs is honesty and clarity.”

Lily swallowed deeply as she nodded.

She knew that this day would come, but as Sirius had said himself, she only wished it could be delayed so that he could retain something of his youth.

“That doesn’t mean I like it, Sirius.”

“No, but he will thank you for it, and if he does somehow already know, the longer you wait, the worse it will be when you decide to tell him the truth.”

And there it was.

She’d been fearful of telling her son what it was that hung over him, scared that he would not be able to handle it, but truthfully, Lily knew that it was her who would struggle, that Harry was the resilient one that would accept it much more easily than she and James ever could.

He was so like them both in many ways, but so different, and those differences is what set him aside, that made him the one who might just be able to put an end to this war.

Not that she relished such thoughts.

Lily and Sirius had both seen war, had witnessed what it was Harry would face, and the thought of her son enduring that was something that would never rest easily with her.

Nonetheless, she knew that Sirius was right, that the time had come for there to finally be no more secrets, that Harry should know the truth of what lay ahead of him, even if it was the last thing she wished for her son.

“I will speak with him,” she promised. “When he is home for the summer, I will tell him everything.”

(Break)

“Harry, I heard about what happened…”

He shook his head.

“I’m fine,” he assured Sabine, “but you wouldn’t have heard everything.”

“What is it?”

Harry released a deep breath and gestured for the girl to follow him.

“During the last war, Voldemort used werewolves, dozens of them. One of my Dad’s friends is a werewolf, and he went to the continent over the summer to see if Greyback was in contact with Riddle.”

“Was he?”

Harry nodded.

“They’ll be making their way to Britain soon enough, but Remus was murdered over there. All they found of him was his head, and that is only because it was found in Azkaban after the breakout.”

“Shit,” Sabine cursed. “I’m so sorry.”

Harry shrugged.

“I liked Remus, but I can’t say I knew him so well. He wasn’t around until after I started here, but he didn’t have a good life. My Dad and Sirius became Animagi so that they could be with him during his transformations at Hogwarts.”

“They must’ve cared about him a lot.”

“They did, and I’m sorry for Sirius and my Dad, and I’ll make it right.”

Sabine took him by the hand.

“Harry, Voldemort, his followers, now werewolves…”

“And giants, and the Dementors of Azkaban.”

Sabine’s eyes widened.

“What’re you going to do?”

“Whatever it takes.”

She had wanted to plead with him, to beg him to do his utmost to not involve himself, but she evidently saw the futility of it. Instead, she’d made an excuse to take her leave, but not before Harry had heard a sob escape her.

For now, however, his focus was on another matter entirely. Ensuring the room was secure so that there was no chance of escape, he tapped the lid of the tin Sid had given him and watched as the rat within hurled himself out.

Quickly realising that he was indeed trapped, Peter transformed and reached for his wand, only for Harry to relieve him of it before he even grasped the handle.

“You really are as pathetic as Sirius said. I didn’t think that was possible.”

“H-Harry, p-please…”

He grunted as Harry buried his fist into his sternum, and Wormtail fell to his knees. Before he could catch his breath, he was bound to a chair, and Harry pulled up his own.

Taking a seat, he simply stared at the man that had been a part of why he no longer had a father.

Harry wanted to tear him limb from limb with his bare hands, but that would not be enough. Perhaps nothing would.

There was only one way to find out.

“You know, the only person I want dead more than you is Voldemort.”

Harry laughed as Peter winced at the mention of the man.

“You fear hearing your own master’s name? Don’t worry, Peter, he can’t get to you here. No one can. I’m sure you recognise this place.”

Wormtail nodded.

“You should be scared, Harry. He is going to kill you.”

“Maybe,” Harry conceded, “but not until I fuck up everything he cares about. If I’m going to die, Peter, I will do everything I can to take him with me, but I can assure you, I am not scared of him. One day, we will meet, likely more than once, and when we do, we will both do everything we can to kill each other. I’ve made peace with that, but before that day comes, there are many things I have to do, starting with ensuring you get what you deserve.”

Peter whimpered as Harry stood.

“Harry, James would not want you to do this.”

Harry laughed once more and leaned in so that the two of them were barely an inch apart.

“What my father would or wouldn’t want doesn’t matter, does it, Wormtail? You made sure of that.”

Peter shook his head.

“You won’t do it. Sirius would, but not you, not James’s son.”

“That is your first mistake, Peter,” Harry sighed. “You see, I have thought about it a lot, what I would do to you when I had you here. It crossed my mind that I wouldn’t be able to go through with it, that I wouldn’t be able to hurt someone so pathetic and defenceless, but I realised something. Maybe if Voldemort never visited my family, I wouldn’t be the way I am. We will never know, but, even if it pains me to admit it, he taught me a valuable lesson with what he did, or maybe he just passed a little bit of himself onto me. Or, it might just be my own nature, but you should know, Peter, that there is something inside me, something very unpleasant that I have lived with all these years, that I have kept a handle on, for the most part. It is dark, Peter, the very worst part of me that will feel nothing for your pain and suffering. I think that it might even like it. Now, I don’t know what it is, but it is there, always with me, and what terrifies me the most, is that I control it, that it answers to me.”

Peter said nothing, watching Harry fearfully as he removed a trunk and began unpacking it.

“Potions,” Harry explained, pointing to the collection of vials he’d set aside. “We have blood replenishers to stop you bleeding out, pepper-up, so you don’t pass out, and these…well, you’ll just have to wait and see.”

Peter’s eyes widened as Harry removed his dagger and placed it next to the potions, along with the book Croaker had given him.

“Now, the muggles had some very interesting ways of killing people. In some civilisations, they would use elephants to trample criminals to death, and others, they would hang them by their feet before cutting just deeply enough a thousand times so that someone would slowly bleed out. Some would take days to die, but don’t worry, Peter, you won’t have to suffer that fate.”

By now, Wormtail was shuddering violently, but Harry could see that he still held onto a little hope that he would not go through with whatever he was planning.

“You know, I could hang you upside down and saw through you lengthways from your bollocks until you split in two. No, that would be a little messy, and the screaming would give me a headache. Don’t worry, Peter, I have a lot in mind, but I need you to know something.”

He stepped closer once more and spoke in just above a whisper.

“I need you to know that everything I am going to do to you is deliberate, that I mean every single moment of suffering you are going to endure. I have had almost fifteen years to think about this, Don’t do anything stupid like die on me to soon. You have a debt to pay, Peter, and you may not have enough blood and tears to satisfy it, but we should at least try.”

Peter whimpered, and whatever doubt he’d been feeling all but evaporated as Harry drew his wand.

Thoughts of what had been done to his family at the hands of Voldemort plagued his mind, but without the man at his mercy in front of him, things may have just been different.

Perhaps not, but what had occurred had done so the way it had. Harry knew there was nothing he could do to change it, but his father deserved justice, and Peter Pettigrew deserved to suffer.

(Break)

It had been weeks of tireless effort, and yet, he had next to nothing to show for his work.

Barty had visited twenty-seven states, spent time in every magical district he could find, consulted every last estate agent, and Ministry hub, and he’d found nothing to even link the Blacks to America, let alone any indication of where Sirius could be found.

The only other option he had was to somehow infiltrate the MACUSA building itself, but it was no easy feat. Ever since Grindelwald had done it back in the 1920s, security measures had been increased tenfold.

No, it might just be impossible to do so, and the Dark Lord had specifically instructed Barty not to take any risks that would see him discovered.

Even so, it was frustrating, but his work would continue in the hope that even if he failed to do what he set out, Wormtail might just have a little luck.

Barty idly wondered what the rat was up to, and what, if any, progress he had made.

He shook his head and paused as he remembered when they’d first arrived so many months prior, and he cursed under his breath, irritated with himself that he’d not thought of it sooner.

Perhaps there was indeed another way he could achieve something worthwhile.

It would take some cunning on his part, but Barty was certain he could make it work.

(Break)

“They seem to be everywhere, but nowhere,” Tonks murmured, peering out of the window of Grimmauld Place.

There was an undeniable chill in the air, and it seemed to be prevalent all over Britain. It was not unusual for it to be foggy at this time of the year, but for it to be so thick and seemingly blanketing the entire country was unheard of.

“They’re breeding,” Bill Weasley declared. “Why can’t we see them?”

“Because you don’t see a Dementor unless it wishes to be seen,” Doge answered. “It was like this last time. You-Know-Who wanted us living in fear, and he used the Dementors to achieve that.”

“It’s bloody cold,” Bill grumbled.

“It is, and it won’t be warm again until they’re gone.”

Bill shook his head.

“Is your Mum still angry with you?”

Tonks shrugged.

“She still not speaking to me.”

“She’ll come around.”

Sirius chuckled amusedly.

“She’s a Black,” he reminded them. “Stubborn to the very core.”

“Well, I have nothing to apologise for!” Tonks protested.

“She’s a Black too, even if she doesn’t have the name.”

Tonks glared at him, but Sirius was immune to those looks. He’d grown up with them courtesy of Andromeda, Bellatrix, and Narcissa. Unfortunately for his cousin, he found her less intimidating than two of the three sisters.

Narcissa had never been one for the family magicks, after all, and had married a much lesser man than she deserved in Lucius.

From what he could gather, she was little more than a functional alcoholic now, and that habit would only worsen.

Not that it was his problem.

She was a Malfoy, and he would never forget how proudly she had announced it when the marriage between her and Lucius had been made public, despite her undoubtedly being aware of her intended’s allegiances.

No, Narcissa had made her bed, and her spawn would inevitably follow in his father’s footsteps.

Draco, however, lacked the cunning of Lucius, and even his undeniable talent with a wand.

The boy was little more than a spoiled child, who had been given everything he ever wanted.

Even so, Sirius was watching him closely for any concerning signs beyond the norm. If, even for a moment, he believed Draco was acting on Voldemort’s orders, he would expel him immediately.

That went for any within the castle.

He would not make the same mistakes Albus had. As much as he liked and respected the man, he’d always been a little too soft, even with Sirius when he’d tried to lure Severus to the Shrieking Shack where the transformed Remus was waiting for him.

He swallowed deeply at the thought of his fallen friend.

His missed him dearly, and with the war only becoming worse with each passing day, he would miss his level-headed counsel.

“Bloody hell, it’s cold,” he grumbled.

He did not doubt that some Dementors had been sent here intentionally.

Although Bellatrix had no hope of getting into Grimmauld Place, that didn’t mean she’d forgotten roughly where it was in London, and Voldemort was certainly making sure those within the home would be aware that he was out there, waiting for his time to strike.

(Break)

Seven hours.

Despite Harry tending to Wormtail regularly, his body had given out after only seven hours.

Surrounding what remained of the man was blood, urine and faeces from where he had soiled himself, and empty vials Harry had used to sustain him.

Now, however, Pettigrew was no more.

He had not gotten any sick, perverse enjoyment out of what he’d done, but Harry would not pretend that there wasn’t just a small part of him that was satisfied.

Wormtail had gotten what he’d deserve, perhaps less for what he’d done, and he’d perished agonisingly, pleading for his life, and begging for his mother.

For the most part, he was unrecognisable. Both of his eyes hung from their sockets, his fingers and toes were broken, bereft of their nails, and his body was littered with bruises, burns, and other magical inflictions Harry had taken it upon himself to introduce the man to.

It had been a rather grim ordeal, one that had ended suddenly as Peter had fallen still, and whatever blood remained within him spilled out of his ears, nose, and what remained of his eyes sockets.

“Bastard,” Harry muttered as he picked up his dagger.

It would take quite the effort to clean up, but before doing that, there was one last thing he needed to attend to. It was all well and good having finally taken more than his pound of flesh, and Harry would relish that in the years to come.

However, Peter was still useful to him, and he knew exactly what to do with him now he was no longer a threat to anyone else.

Besides, it would be quite rude not to return the man to his master, even f he they were to be reunited in the least likely of places.

It brought a grin to Harry’s lips as he set to work, and could only hope he would be there when Riddle learned what Harry had subjected one of his followers to.