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Chapter 150: Sympathy and Naivety
The effects of Veritaserum were gradually fading, and the reporters had already secured the news that sent shivers down their spines. As Peter Pettigrew began to stir, Remus Lupin didn’t hesitate—he cast a Stunning Spell, knocking the rat-faced man unconscious once more.
Dragging Wormtail out of the room, Wade paused briefly before stepping through the door. The journalists, seemingly oblivious, continued buzzing with excitement, exchanging their articles with the kind of camaraderie that only comes from shared triumph. Having come from different countries and working for newspapers without competitive ties, their atmosphere was remarkably harmonious.
Before leaving, Wade turned to Machionni and said, “One more thing, Mr. Machionni.”
“Please go ahead,” Machionni replied, eager and attentive.
“I’d like you to hold off on publishing this report—for now. Until the British government officially acknowledges its past mistakes.” Wade’s tone was calm, but firm.
Machionni blinked, momentarily misunderstanding. He thought Wade had said “admit” instead of “deny.” But after a moment’s thought, the meaning clicked. A faint smirk curled at the corner of his lips. “As you wish, Wade.”
…
“Are you coming with me?” Back in the attic, standing before the Vanishing Cabinet, Wade asked Remus Lupin.
Remus hesitated—part of him wanted to go, but another part wrestled with guilt and caution. He knew he shouldn’t be on school grounds without permission. And he was well aware that Wade didn’t want anyone else to learn the secret of the Vanishing Cabinet. If word got out, the professors would surely demand that Wade hand it over for the safety of the students.
Yet the desire to witness the downfall of the betrayer burned too fiercely to ignore.
“Let’s go,” Wade decided for him. “But you’ll have to say you found your way in through a secret passage.”
Wade knew the truth: Dumbledore might already know about the cabinet’s existence. He doubted the Headmaster hadn’t—after all, Dumbledore had long given students extraordinary freedom. Like sending a first-year Harry Potter to face Voldemort, or allowing Draco Malfoy to act on his dark ambitions during sixth year. When such freedom served Wade’s own interests, he found it… acceptable.
But he also knew this unspoken understanding came with a price: it could only be used, never spoken of. If the world knew of the trust between them, the cabinet would no longer be his alone. After all, only one of the two cabinets was his—purchased with his own gold. The other belonged to the school.
…
In the Umbrella Room, the group had just finished listening to Percy’s recollection. At the time, Percy had been only five or six, so his memory was fragmented. But his careful narration helped Hermione piece together something familiar. She quickly pulled out Major Magical Events of the 20th Century—a book she’d read cover to cover before her first year—and flipped through it until she found the name.
“…Killed brutally by the desperate Sirius Black… bodies scattered across the ground… The Ministry of Magic posthumously awarded Peter Pettigrew the Merlin Order of Knighthood, First Class Medal…”
Reading those words, Harry felt a deep unease. The image of the cowardly, trembling man they’d just seen clashed violently with the heroic legend in the book.
“If he was a hero… why did he turn into a rat and hide?” Harry asked, baffled. “Hiding in Ron’s house… playing pet to a child?”
“That’s exactly what makes it so terrifying, Harry,” Fred said, his voice heavy with meaning.
“Remember?” George turned to him. “Last year, when we first heard about this… Professor Quirrell was Voldemort’s puppet. Little Ron’s pet was a dead hero. We never knew the truth about this world.”
He glanced at his brothers—both the former and current owners of Scabbers—whose faces were pale, their expressions grim. They looked like they wanted to be sick.
The book contained no mention of Priori Incantatem or the Confidentiality charm, so Harry’s mind remained relatively calm, though filled with confusion.
“I just remembered,” Harry said to his friends. “I’ve actually seen a photo of him. Remus used to keep it on the wall. Peter Pettigrew, Remus, and my father—all friends back in school.”
“They must have shared a lot of history,” Hermione said. “A man with a hero’s name pretending to be dead? There’s no way that happened without reason.”
“Yeah,” Harry said, searching their faces for reassurance. “But he never hurt me, did he? We shared the same dormitory. Scabbers was just greedy and lazy—never did anything wrong.”
He looked at them, waiting for agreement.
But the silence that followed was thick with disbelief. Their stares were like those given to a child who’d just claimed the sky was green.
“If he was just afraid,” Fred said slowly, shaking his head, “he could’ve gone to Dumbledore for help. But he stayed a rat his whole time at school. That means he wasn’t afraid of others…”
“…He was afraid of Dumbledore,” Ron said, his voice low and hollow.
Fred nodded.
Harry opened his mouth, but no words came.
Just then, the curtain parted.
Wade stepped through, dragging Peter Pettigrew behind him—along with another figure.
“Remus!” Harry rushed forward. “What are you doing here?”
Remus Lupin managed a weak smile and gently ruffled Harry’s hair.
The memories stirred within him, sharp and painful. Seeing Harry’s face brought back the agony of losing his best friend—betrayed by trust. Remus took a deep breath, forcing down the ache behind his eyes.
“Wade knew I was involved,” he said quietly. “He brought me here through a secret passage. We’re taking Peter Pettigrew to see Dumbledore.”
The sudden appearance of the mature, composed wizard instantly commanded the room. Percy, who’d been about to speak, fell silent. One by one, the group followed, leaving the Umbrella Room and walking toward the Headmaster’s Tower.
“Hey, you three!” Midway, Professor McGonagall strode toward them, her expression stormy. “I heard you turned the Gryffindor Common Room door into a mud pit. The Fat Lady told me—”
She stopped short.
Her eyes locked onto Remus and the unconscious Pettigrew.
“Merlin…” she breathed, her voice trembling. “What in the name of magic is going on?”
“As you see, Professor,” Remus said, keeping his voice steady. “Peter Pettigrew didn’t die. Everything that happened back then was a lie. We need to speak with Dumbledore.”
“Of course… of course…” McGonagall finally regained her composure, though her face remained frozen in shock. She rubbed her eyes, as if to confirm she wasn’t seeing a hallucination. “Follow me.”
Students they passed stared in disbelief. One whispered to the Weasley Twins, “What happened?” But they said nothing.
Soon, they reached the Headmaster’s office.
(End of Chapter)
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