Chapter 149: The Reporter and the Traitor
As October deepened, the days grew darker earlier than ever. The study remained unlit by candles, and even the faint glow seeping through the window felt dim and lifeless.
Wade sat in his chair, one foot planted on the floor, giving the chair a sharp kick that sent it tilting at a dangerously precarious angle. He swayed slightly, the chair creaking under him, as he listened intently to the conversation within the room.
“I’m scared… The Dark Lord is so powerful, Death Eaters are killing people everywhere… What’s the point of standing against him? James kept provoking him, drawing all that hatred straight onto us…” Peter Pettigrew spoke in a dazed, trembling voice. “Dumbledore is the one he truly fears… but still, they keep hunting us… He’s got magic we can’t even imagine—tracking us down himself…”
“McKinnon’s dead… the Prewitt brothers… the Bones family… all dead…”
“What’s left to gain by opposing him… besides death?”
“I think… even if I betrayed them, Dumbledore couldn’t kill me. James would forgive me… he knows I’ve always been afraid. A prison sentence in Azkaban would be better than dying…”
A voice from inside the room snapped with excitement: “So you did betray them, then? Betrayed the Phoenix Society… and James Potter?”
“Then what happened between you and Sirius?”
A pause. Then Peter continued, his voice barely above a whisper:
“The Dark Lord was hunting James and Lily… he was chasing them himself. I was terrified.”
“Dumbledore suggested they use the Priori Incantatem Charm to hide—offering to be the Secret-Keeper. But James refused. He wanted Sirius to be the Secret-Keeper.”
“Then… then in the final moment, Sirius made a ridiculous suggestion…”
Peter let out a nervous, hollow laugh—still dazed, yet clearly relishing the memory of that moment’s shock and the silent mockery it carried.
“He said… he said I should be the Secret-Keeper. He’d distract the Dark Lord, while I… I’d just be a cowardly old rat, easy to hide. No one would care about me. No one could find me.”
“But he didn’t know… I’d already pledged myself to the Dark Lord a year earlier. They suspected Remus of passing messages to the Death Eaters, but never once doubted me.”
The swaying chair abruptly stopped.
Wade looked up as Remus Lupin emerged from the living room, his face buried in his hands. After a long silence, he lifted his head, his eyes still heavy with sorrow.
“Time has proven everything,” Wade murmured softly. “They didn’t write to you… that was a mistake.”
Remus shook his head. “I can’t blame James or Sirius. At the time… almost every werewolf was a Death Eater. They doubted me… it wasn’t without reason.”
“But even so… James and Lily never shut me out.”
“And… I never wrote to Sirius, not once, in all these years.”
He slumped down beside Wade, no longer hiding the pain and regret etched into every line of his face.
“Can’t listen anymore?” Wade asked, his gaze fixed on the bookshelf ahead.
Remus shook his head. “I’d kill him if I stayed.”
Inside the living room, Peter Pettigrew continued his tale—how, after James and Lily’s deaths, Sirius had found him…
How he’d screamed that Sirius had betrayed them, how he’d cast an explosion spell that killed over a dozen people, then, with a grim resolve, severed one of his own fingers, pretending to be dead—killed by Sirius himself.
He spoke with chilling smugness.
Then came the years in hiding—concealed among the Weasley family, surviving as a rat for eleven long years.
Living as a mouse was miserable, but he had no choice.
He couldn’t return to the light side. As soon as he showed his face, his lies would be exposed.
He couldn’t return to the Death Eaters either—they saw him as a traitor. His message had led to the Dark Lord’s downfall, and they wanted him punished.
His only hope? Waiting for the Dark Lord’s return. Only Voldemort knew the truth—he hadn’t betrayed anyone.
Remus listened in silence, teeth grinding audibly, the sound sharp and brittle in the stillness.
No one in the room felt satisfaction. Instead, they clamored for more—pressing questions, desperate to dig deeper into secrets. Peter answered every one without hesitation, no lies, no concealment.
Everyone present knew—without a doubt—he’d been fed Veritaserum.
But what did it matter?
They didn’t care.
All they wanted was a scandal that would shake the world.
When the conversation began to lose its edge, drifting into private matters, Machionni stepped out of the room. Remus Lupin took his place—watching, guarding, making sure Peter Pettigrew didn’t break free from control.
“Thank you, Mr. Machionni,” Wade said, rising to his feet. “Without your help, I wouldn’t have known where to find so many capable reporters.”
The reporters in the living room were from five or six countries, including Britain—each one the equal of Rita Skeeter.
For them, the only thing that mattered was a sensational headline, a best-selling newspaper.
Morality? Government? Irrelevant. Especially when it came from another country.
“They should be thanking you,” Machionni said with a smile, sitting down and pouring himself a cup of tea. He drank it in one go, then added:
“The Soft-Light Badge is selling faster than the Book of Friends. Witch after witch is going mad for it—buying ten, fifteen at a time, even though we’ve repeatedly said the validity period is only one month.”
Wade’s eyes lingered on the badge pinned to Machionni’s collar—same as the one he wore.
“Yeah, I’m using one too,” Machionni said, adjusting the badge with a small smile. “A good image makes almost any incident smoother. That’s why our second-largest customer base is middle-aged and older men.”
“In fact, almost everyone I do business with is a customer. The Soft-Light Badge is the first thing we talk about—often before even the weather.”
He’d grown deeply interested in both the Book of Friends and the badge, so when Wade asked for help—no matter how strange or unclear the reason—Machionni had done everything with full dedication, no hesitation, no compromise.
“Wade,” Machionni leaned in, lowering his voice, “have you got any new research lately?”
“Even if it’s just a small thing you don’t care about… I can find a buyer. I’ll sell it at a good price, no matter what.”
Wade paused, then said: “I’ve been working on something new… but the technology isn’t mature yet. The cost is high.”
Machionni’s eyes lit up. “Do you have a prototype? Doesn’t matter if it’s not ready—once we improve it, we’ll make a profit. Every time!”
His hunger for money burned so intensely it made Wade instinctively lean back.
“Next week,” Wade said. “We’ll meet here.”
“Perfect,” Machionni grinned. “Then it’s settled!”
(End of Chapter)
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