Lucius Malfoy drew to a halt outside the door. He could hear voices from within, and he paused for a moment to listen.
"I tell you, master, it's possible that he could be the one!" came a nasal voice, unmistakably belonging to Wormtail. "I've been watching him for years, and..."
Lucius turned the doorknob and pushed the door open. Inside the room stood Voldemort and Wormtail, standing a stone's throw away from the fireplace. What immediately struck Lucius was how unbearably cold the room was it felt as if he'd just stepped onto the Arctic in the dead of winter.
Lucius froze at the sight of his master, just as the Dark Lord turned his chilling, bloodshot gaze on him.
Voldemort had reclaimed his human body.
Since he'd spoken to his master five years ago about Harry Potter being put in Slytherin, Lucius had only seen Voldemort once, the previous year. Voldemort had some instructions for him, mostly about Draco. Then, Voldemort had still been a formless being, and Lucius had fought his revulsion at the grotesque shape of his master as they'd conversed for all of five minutes. But now, his master had risen again.
"Master," Lucius whispered. He took a step forward and knelt in front of him.
Voldemort regarded him dispassionately before motioning for him to rise.
"Lucius," he said, his cold voice slicing through the air. "It has been a long time." He gave a mirthless smile, noticing the stunned expression still on Lucius's face. "Fail to recognise me, Lucius, in my new body?"
"No, master," Lucius replied quickly. "I was merely admiring your new more powerful form, my Lord."
"Yes, a form that you contributed nothing to create," Voldemort said lazily, although his tone was sharp enough to cut glass. Lucius flinched. Voldemort continued, "Still, you were the first to alert me to the favourable turn of events regarding Harry Potter, and I will not overlook that."
"Thank you, master," Lucius said gratefully. He wanted to approach his master, but suddenly a glint of fangs stopped him in his tracks with a jolt of horror, Lucius saw that a large, thick snake was coiled at Voldemort's feet. The snake hissed, rearing its scaly head and baring its fangs at him. Lucius hastily stepped backwards.
Across the room Wormtail saw Lucius' fumbling, and smiled pitilessly. He'd never really taken to Lucius Malfoy, even since Lucius had been one of Voldemort's right-hand men during the days of the Dark Lord's reign. He'd envied Lucius, to the point of loathing him. Lucius had had it all good looks, power, wealth, the master's vote of confidence he had always been given important duties by the Dark Lord, while he, Wormtail, had been given the despicable, thankless job of playing traitor to his former friends.
And now, Lucius Malfoy had intruded at a very inopportune time and interrupted him just as he was about to tell his master something very important. Wormtail glared at Lucius, who missed the venomous look.
Voldemort ignored both of his followers. The moments passed in tense silence until Lucius finally spoke.
"My Lord?" he said tentatively; when Voldemort didn't silence him, Lucius continued, "I wish to speak with you about what we talked of previously."
Voldemort afforded him a calm, level gaze. "Speak, then."
Lucius's eyes cut in the direction of Wormtail. "In private, perhaps?" He gave Wormtail a disdainful look.
Wormtail glared insolently back; but it was unspoken knowledge that according to status quo, Lucius still held a higher rank than he. Very ungraciously, Wormtail left the room, although unknown to Lucius, he lingered outside to eavesdrop.
Lucius watched Wormtail slink from the room, and turned to the Dark Lord as the door clicked shut. Voldemort had moved slightly and was now facing away from Lucius.
"You wanted a word, Lucius?" His voice was dark and ominous, chilling the atmosphere further.
"Yes, my Lord." Lucius closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "I wanted to talk to you about Draco. My son," he added, almost as an afterthought.
"I know who Draco is, Lucius." Voldemort's voice was calmly disapproving, and Lucius wilted slightly.
"Yes, yes, my Lord." He hesitated, then continued in a rush, "You said, the last time, that Draco could possibly be the heir of "
"I remember what I said, Lucius," Voldemort cut him off sharply; he abruptly turned around, and Lucius had to summon every ounce of willpower not to react as he laid his eyes on the Dark Lord's corpse-like face.
Voldemort looked pointedly at Lucius. "You will assist me grandly in the conquest of Harry Potter," he said, drawing out each syllable in a cold, merciless voice. "And if you and your son prove yourselves brave even in the face of death, why, you will be rewarded bountifully."
Lucius Malfoy didn't exactly look the embodiment of bravery at that moment, his hands clenched so tightly that his knuckles turned white, but he still managed a nod.
"Yes master," he said faintly. "We are your servants, and we will do your bidding."
"Will I be able to count you as one of my loyal followers?" Voldemort's voice cracked through the air like a whip.
"Of course, master," Lucius answered automatically. "We pledge our lives to you we will serve you faithfully."
"As to that, only time will tell," Voldemort answered coolly, casting Lucius a glance that bordered on disdain. "And I might say it is rather presumptuous of you to speak for your son, Draco."
"Draco will not disappoint you, my Lord," Lucius replied, and now his voice was slightly stronger. "He will be your worthy heir."
"As for the present," Voldemort continued, "I trust you to arrange matters as best you see fit I want you to bring Harry Potter to me, alive at all costs."
"It will be done, master," Lucius said, nodding vigorously. "I have a plan..."
Outside, Wormtail fumed with rage as he listened to Lucius's ingratiating voice start to discuss the aspects of his plan. How could his master entrust this privileged task to Malfoy? It wasn't fair, Wormtail thought resentfully. It was he who had risked life and limb to find his master last year, who had loyally served and tended to him while the Resurrection Spell was pending. He had done everything in his power, given everything he had to assist his master in his return well, almost everything. His own flesh and bone had proven too much of a sacrifice to give, and another faithful Death Eater had offered the 'flesh of the servant, willingly given.' But he had still sacrificed more than Lucius Malfoy!
Wormtail felt the anger simmering within him, and he clenched his fists, feeling the absence of his right forefinger. He'd conceded the prime position as Voldemort's most favoured Death Eater, but he had expected to be at least second in command. Either way, he deserved more than that slimy little bastard and his blasted pretty-boy son.
Draco Malfoy? Wormtail thought contemptuously. How could Lucius Malfoy's son be the one? He grudgingly admitted that on the surface, Draco seemed a likely candidate good-looking, self-assured... so much like his father, Wormtail thought bitterly. But sometimes, sometimes, the true heir could rise from the most unlikely places.
Wormtail's thin lips were set in a grim line as he turned and stalked away. He'd show his master, he resolved determinedly. He'd show his master that he had the insight to discern who the true heir was and it was not Draco Malfoy, for sure.
Wormtail smiled humourlessly. Deep down inside, his gut feeling told him that his selection was the right one. He knew what he'd seen, what the signs meant and there was no way in hell he was going to let Lucius Malfoy steal all the glory again.
* * *
"Peter Pettigrew." Dumbledore drummed his fingers lightly against the edge of his desk, something which evidenced that he was thinking very hard.
Remus Lupin nodded. His heart was still beating faster than usual and it echoed in his ears, making it hard for him to think clearly. He was still slightly out of breath from blurting out the whole story, barely stopping to breathe.
"This presents a world of interesting possibilities." Dumbledore thought for a moment longer, then continued, "Does Ronald Weasley have any other information about this supposed rat of his?"
Lupin shook his head. "All he told me was that it was given by his brother Percy, and that it had run away about a year ago."
"And yet he returned again tonight," Dumbledore said, twirling the edge of his beard with his fingers; he eyed the Marauder's Map with interest. "This is a fascinating piece of parchment you have here," he commented, observing the tiny black dots moving randomly across the scroll, which had mapped out the grounds of Hogwarts in its entirety. "Even I never knew there were so many secret passages you and your friends explored them all in your time at Hogwarts, I presume?"
Remus managed a small smile. "Every single one." The feeble grin quickly faded into a tone of seriousness. "And the Map can't be wrong, Professor we've used every Anti-Concealment Charm there is, even the ones that make magical eyes able to see through Cloaks and disguises. Basically, the Map never lies, not even if you're masked by Polyjuice Potion or in Animagus form."
"Yes, another unwitting complication thrown into the fray," Dumbledore said, with a sigh. Lupin blushed slightly he'd told the Headmaster all about what James, Sirius and Peter had done, although he, Remus, accepted full responsibility for the illegal Animagus transformations since it had been for his sake. Dumbledore, however, had been duly impressed by their remarkable achievement.
"Professor " Lupin started, somewhat hesitantly. Dumbledore turned his crinkled blue eyes on him, silently encouraging him to speak. Lupin took a deep breath, then continued, "If Peter is alive, it means that Sirius Black didn't kill him. And that means that he's in Azkaban for a crime he didn't commit at least the charge he was indicted for, if not what he did to Lily and James."
"Did James ever tell you whom they eventually made Secret-Keeper?" Dumbledore asked unexpectedly.
Remus blinked. "Why yes wasn't it Sirius?" He frowned, trying to remember what James had told him, about a week before his death: Dumbledore thinks the Fidelius Charm is the best way Sirius is going to be our Secret-Keeper. "At least, that's what James told me."
"And me," Dumbledore said softly. Remus could almost see the cogs and wheels working in overdrive inside his white-haired head. "But that was two days before the Charm was performed I lost contact with him thereafter." A sorrowful look tinged the serious expression on Dumbledore's face.
"But it had to be Sirius, hadn't it?" Lupin asked, shocked by the idea of another possibility. "I mean who else would he choose, other than Sirius?" His eyes suddenly widened. "Not not Peter?"
Dumbledore sighed. "Did you know that James and Lily were killed less than twenty-four hours after the Fidelius Charm was performed?" He looked sombrely at Lupin. "It was clear that their Secret-Keeper had violated their trust in him everyone assumed it was Sirius Black, especially after he presumably killed Peter Pettigrew."
"But now that Peter's alive..." Remus began, thinking quickly. "But but James couldn't possibly have made Peter his Secret-Keeper! Sirius was his best friend, I mean, they were closer than brothers! Sirius knew James better than any one of us!"
Dumbledore looked thoughtful. "Perhaps that was the reason why no one myself included even thought to suspect otherwise. Sirius was just the natural assumption, I have to agree, and the last I spoke with James, he told me such as well."
"Why would he change his mind, then?" Lupin frowned. "Maybe he suspected that Sirius had been working for Voldemort all along, and changed to Peter at the last moment."
"And see the consequences that resulted..." Dumbledore pointed out gently.
"Good point." Lupin grimaced. His thinking was still heavily tinged by the prejudice that Sirius was guilty he tried to shake it out of his head. "So Peter isn't dead Sirius didn't kill him but why has he not shown himself, all this while? Why has he been hiding away?"
"Perhaps because there's something he's hiding from." Dumbledore said gravely. "Perhaps somehow, James had appointed him as Secret-Keeper instead of Sirius, and he had betrayed the Potters' whereabouts to Voldemort. After Voldemort fell, Pettigrew had nowhere else to turn the only way was for him to go into hiding."
Lupin pondered for a moment. It was true there would be no reason for an innocent man to spend the last decade and a half in the guise of a rat, isolated from his friends who had all assumed him dead.
"I don't believe this," Lupin finally said, almost to himself. He raised his tired eyes to meet Dumbledore's. "How could this be true? What about the explosion the deadly curse that killed all those Muggles? Why did Sirius do that?"
Dumbledore shook his head. "Frankly, we had no hard evidence that Sirius was responsible for the incident he staunchly refused to give a confession. The only proof was his presence at the scene of the explosion, and what remained of Pettigrew his finger. I also gave testimony of James's words to me, telling me that Sirius was his Secret-Keeper." He gave a wry, almost bitter smile. "But that evidence was never even formally considered, since Bartemius Crouch sent Sirius straight to Azkaban without a trial."
Remus' voice was a broken whisper when he spoke again. "Why didn't Sirius tell us the truth?"
"Would anyone have believed him?" Dumbledore asked reasonably. "Everyone presumed he was the Potters' Secret-Keeper. He was the only wizard at the scene of the explosion, standing in front of Pettigrew's bloodstained robes. He never once denied that he was responsible for James and Lily's death frankly, even I would have been sceptical."
"And now we'll never know," Lupin said bitterly. "We'll never know if Sirius really betrayed James and Lily, and we'll never know if an innocent man has spent the last fifteen years in the most horrible "
"Yes, we will," Dumbledore said unexpectedly. "We'll ask Sirius ourselves."
Lupin's head snapped up he stared at Dumbledore in disbelief.
Dumbledore nodded firmly. "There is only one truth, and one way to get it. And there are only two people alive now who can tell us what really happened that night."
"But Sirius probably won't be in the condition to tell us," Lupin said, pained. "He's been in Azkaban for more than a decade, Professor. People normally go insane within the first year. By now he's probably gone mad a dozen times over or maybe he's even dead."
Dumbledore shook his head. "He's not dead. I spoke with Cornelius Fudge about a month ago he'd been in Azkaban for some business, and he remarked to me how unusually calm and sane Sirius Black appeared to be. Apparently, Sirius even asked him for a cigarette. When Fudge said he didn't have any, Sirius replied, 'Oh, just as well then the smokes are probably going to be the death of me.'"
Lupin cracked a smile. That sounded like Sirius, all right.
Dumbledore allowed a small smile as well, but it was quickly replaced with an expression of sober determination. "I'll speak with Bartemius Crouch about the matter. Sirius's temporary release pending more evidence for or against his innocence will be arranged."
Remus looked incredulous. "How are you going to do that? You know how Crouch is he'd sooner send his own son to the Dementors than give a suspected Death Eater a fair trial. He's fanatical he thinks that every person he sends to Azkaban on the charge of being a Death Eater somehow asserts his own moral integrity."
"Well, perhaps he's going rather soft in his old age, then," Dumbledore replied, a hard expression in his eyes. "I've heard from a reliable source that he arranged for a short release of his son, off-the-record his wife was dying, and her last wish was that her son be allowed to visit her on her deathbed. Word has it, however, that Bartemius Crouch Jr was never returned to Azkaban he vanished while on his temporary release."
"Vanished?" Remus repeated. "How?"
Dumbledore shrugged. "I know this much, and even then this information is no longer available." His usually benign demeanour hardened. "Crouch would go to any lengths to keep such knowledge from the public and that includes using very strong and damaging Memory Charms. The person who told me about Crouch's son's escape no longer remembers such a thing so there are no witnesses to testify."
Lupin still did not quite cotton on. "And he can help Sirius..." he started slowly.
"As I said, Crouch would go to any lengths to keep it quiet," Dumbledore explained, with a small smile of triumph. "Once I remind him that I know about his son's mysterious disappearance, I think authorising Sirius's temporary release top secret, of course would not pose much of a problem at all."
"Professor," Lupin raised his eyebrows, "isn't this blackmail?"
Professor Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "I prefer to call it the optional disclosure of selected information," he said, with an almost sly grin. "I'm not usually an advocate of the belief that the ends justify the means, but for the sake of justice, I'm willing to do all in my power to make sure that it is upheld."
"For Sirius's sake, then?"
"Yes, for Sirius's sake," Dumbledore agreed. "Besides, I'll ensure that he is not allowed out of my sight, and if we confirm that he is indeed guilty for the crimes he has been incarcerated for, I'll not hesitate to return him to his rightful place."
"I thought you didn't approve of Azkaban?" Lupin pointed out.
"I still don't." Dumbledore replied. "I have never thought it prudent of the Ministry to ally themselves with Dark creatures like the Dementors. But..." He paused, and his eyes briefly misted over. "You would have to look hard for another couple as fine as James and Lily, and it would be an insult to them if some form of justice was not served on their behalf."
"I've been hating Sirius all these years, for what he did or at least what I thought he did. Now that Peter's still alive..." Remus trailed off, feeling the confusion start over again.
"I know, Remus," Dumbledore said softly. "Pettigrew's sudden reappearance casts doubt on many things we've believed as facts all this while. But we will get to the bottom of this."
"What did he want in the Gryffindor boys' dormitory?" Remus wondered out loud. "What is he up to?"
"Another thing we'll find out, soon enough," Dumbledore said grimly.
* * *
Ron couldn't stop thinking about Lupin's strange intrusion into their dorm the night before. He sat opposite Hermione, staring at the blank parchment in front of him, which was supposed to be filled with his Astronomy essay before the end of the night. Ron knew that other students owned rats too; few of them, but there were at least a handful. Why was Lupin so interested in Scabbers?
A thought arrested Ron, and his stomach fluttered slightly. Could Lupin possibly have found out about his... the strange new things he discovered he could do?
It was possible. Lupin could have found out about him after all, he was the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, and for all Ron knew Hogwarts had some sort of Detecting Charm that could pick up any form of unusual magic performed within its walls.
And Ron couldn't deny, it was rather unusual magic. Even he didn't quite understand it.
Ron raised his right hand, then hesitated for a moment. If he tried it here again, he might have Lupin hurtling into the dormitory at any moment. But then it wouldn't make much of a difference anyway, since Lupin probably already knew about it he'd practiced it at least twice in the dorm before.
Ron closed his eyes again, and concentrated for a moment. Then he opened them, lifted his hand, and tried again. His palm was facing in the direction of Neville's bed, which was cluttered with a mess of homework, books and other things. Ron's gaze fell on the Remembrall, also lying on the bed.
Ron focused his mind on the Remembrall it wasn't much effort now, all he had to do was consciously concentrate on the small, globular object. He wondered if he could still do it it had been a few weeks since he'd last tried.
He raised his palm slightly the Remembrall on Neville's bed wobbled a little, as if someone was rustling the sheets it was lying on, but of course no one was. Slightly more confident, Ron lifted his hand a few inches higher, and the Remembrall levitated upwards, clear of the bed, in a rather unsteady fashion but without a doubt, suspended in mid-air.
Ron held it above the bed for a few moments longer he thought of guiding it toward him, but decided against it, in case he lost concentration halfway through and made it shatter to the ground. With a sigh, Ron lowered his hand, and the Remembrall fell softly back onto the bed.
Ron slumped onto his own bed, lying flat on his back, staring at the blank ceiling above him. He clenched his right hand into a tight fist, so hard that his fingernails dug crescent marks onto his palm.
He didn't understand this at all, why he could move things like that. Sure, he was supposed to be a wizard, magic was supposed to be at his fingertips but not this literally. Wands were supposed to be used, not his own bare hands. And he didn't think he was a magical prodigy there was no other indication of any extraordinary magical powers he possessed, except for this.
He'd discovered this power almost two years ago, one night back at the Burrow during the holidays. He was in his room, fuming after Fred and George had created an explosion that had wrecked most of his things and completely incinerated all the homework he had done. They had chuckled as they walked out of his room; Ron had made a rude gesture at their retreating backs when suddenly a vase on the window sill had flown across the room and smashed on the far wall, just inches away from the open door. Ron had later realised that it had followed the movement of his right hand in a spectacular projectile across the length of the room before shattering against the wall.
Ever since that incident, Ron had only experimented with his newfound ability a few times once he'd managed to make Scabbers fly across the room, and a few other random objects took flight as Ron periodically checked if he still had the ability move things without a wand.
He'd never told anyone about it, not even Hermione or his family. Ron thought he should feel proud it was a nifty power to possess, after all. If it had been Hermione she'd probably sit put all day and make everything she needed fly to her just because she could do it. Or would she?
That was probably the reason why Ron hadn't told anyone yet. He wasn't sure how they would react, whether they'd be impressed (perhaps hail him a genius? Ron wondered almost wistfully), or whether they'd stare at him as if he was some kind of freak.
After all, it was common knowledge that almost all magic needed the use of a wand. Great wizards like Dumbledore and even He Who Must Not Be Named relied on a wand to perform magic. And it was known that strange forms of magic, as Ron supposed his power could be classified, were associated with the Dark Arts.
Lying on his bed, Ron finally decided that he had to tell someone. He'd tell Hermione, of course, but he also needed to tell someone who could help him, give him advice about what to do and what all this meant. Who could he tell? Ron thought about McGonagall, since she was his head of House but he was quite wary of her, especially since he'd flunked his last Transfiguration test.
Suddenly it occurred to Ron.
He could tell Professor Lupin. Who better than the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher to tell him what to make of this? Lupin was always patient with his students, and he was one of the best-liked teachers in school, even though he was a werewolf. Dumbledore had told the school about Lupin's condition when he had arrived last year, and so far most of the students and staff had rallied nicely in support of him, with the exception of Snape and some of the Slytherins. And if Lupin had come to search their dorm last night for the source of unusual magic... it'd be good for Ron if he voluntarily came clean about it.
Feeling distinctly comforted by his resolve, Ron turned and raised his right hand, facing it at his bedside table; his Astronomy textbook lifted off the table, and he carefully guided it toward him. It floundered a little halfway through, dipping very abruptly and almost falling out of the air, but it managed to reach him eventually. Ron snatched it from mid-air with his other hand as it hovered close to him; this was the heaviest object he'd carried before.
Ron sighed, shook his head and headed out of the dormitory, the Astronomy textbook tucked under his arm.
This was very strange indeed, and he was certainly looking forward to an explanation from Professor Lupin.