Harry Potter and the Secret Treasures

Wormtail’s right hand abruptly rose, its sleeve slipping down to reveal a startling sight.

In the candlelight, Wormtail’s raised right arm appeared exceptionally clear. If Harry had turned around to see it, he would have been utterly astonished, for the thing Wormtail bore could no longer be called a human arm.

At first glance, it was a riot of colors, predominantly dark purple, seemingly covered in tattoos of fantastical creatures.

Upon closer inspection, these “tattoos” were different colored scales and layers of raised, overlapping folds.

Where the hand had once been, a monstrous talon had taken its place, with four razor-sharp claws jutting outward.

Barbed spines protruded downward in grotesque clusters, continuing along the length of the arm. The limb itself was nothing like a human’s: soft, boneless, eerily flexible, capable of stretching and twisting like some enormous tentacle — yet wholly unlike an octopus’s as well.

The exact shape of Wormtail’s entire right hand and arm was difficult to describe, like something drawn from the realm of the unspeakable.

The patterns on his arm seemed alive. They breathed. Fine folds yawned open and extended thin, dark-purple tendrils. A murky haze, somewhere between violet and black, gathered along the arm’s outer edge — mistlike, shifting gently.

Seen from afar, it might almost have held a strange, terrible beauty; but up close, once one realized the “mist” was formed of countless writhing filaments, it was nothing short of nauseating.

Those tiny tendrils quivered, creating an uncanny, magnetic pull.

Perhaps drawn by the limb — or compelled by something else entirely — Ron suddenly stirred. He staggered to his feet, picked up Harry’s wand where it had been flung aside, and stepped toward the grappling pair.

“Ron, help me!” Harry shouted, noticing him. “Use magic — now!”

But his pleas went unanswered. Ron stood there silently, seemingly examining Harry’s wand, or perhaps waiting for the outcome of their fight. His expression was blank, and his eyes seemed particularly bulging.

“Damn it!” Harry swore, not getting any help from Ron.

He wrestled on, oblivious to Wormtail’s floating right arm.

Harry felt he could defeat Wormtail; he sensed the body’s unusual weakness.

But the next second, the monstrous limb swept through the narrow gap between their bodies with impossible precision, curving in an eerie arc before closing around Harry’s throat.

The force hit him like a blow, and Harry couldn’t breathe.

“Ron…” Harry choked, attempting to prise off Wormtail’s monstrous fingers, staring at him, and struggling to speak, “You’re going to kill me? After I pleaded for you and saved your life? You owe me, Wormtail.”

Four years ago, on that night, Harry had dissuaded Sirius from killing Wormtail.

Otherwise, he would be dead by now!

Peter Pettigrew seemed to hesitate, perhaps because Harry had once pleaded for his life, or perhaps because of who Harry was; in any case, his monstrous, sharp claws slowly slackened.

Harry had not expected it: He wrenched himself free, astonished, his hand still gripping Wormtail’s wand-wielding hand — his normal hand.

Because of the struggle, Wormtail’s robes had been torn open, revealing the body beneath — and Harry finally saw clearly the new form he’d been given.

The tentacle-like monstrous arm… and the body beneath it was no longer human at all, but the grotesque torso of a creature.

A creation of an evil god!!!

Even though the word was so foreign to Harry, it came to his mind naturally at that moment.

Voldemort had “gifted” Wormtail a new body, a monstrous one.

This wasn’t help. This wasn’t mercy. Voldemort had used him as a vessel for some foul experiment in Dark magic.

Seeing this hideous thing the Dark Lord had created — the work of evil magic — Harry stared at the creature whose only human parts left were its head and left hand. Everything else had slipped beyond the bounds of humanity. And in the watery eyes of this ratlike man, Harry saw terror and astonishment.

He seemed shocked by his own moment of hesitation, shocked that he had let Harry go. Yes… he seemed just as shocked as Harry at what his hand had done, at the tiny, merciful impulse it had betrayed, and he continued to struggle more powerfully, as though to undo that moment of weakness.

“I need to talk to you, Wormtail!” said Harry, trying to make his voice sound calm. “I can help you, Evan and I can help you. You should know your current condition, you are now…”

Harry’s words abruptly stopped. He saw Peter Pettigrew’s pupils dilate!

Perhaps out of fear, or perhaps for some other unknown factor, his gaze shifted from Harry’s face. Wormtail’s body trembled violently. Countless thin black tendrils pushed outward from his flesh, growing longer and longer.

Harry let go of Wormtail and slowly backed away, terror rising in his chest as he watched the tendrils coil around Pettigrew. Those deadly, writhing tendrils wrapped him layer by layer, forming a cocoon — tightening, and tightening still.

Peter Pettigrew seemed to be swallowed by a melting black mist, gradually merging into the darkness.

And then —

“No —”

Harry wanted to stop it, but was powerless.

The body that Voldemort had given his most cowardly servant had turned upon its disarmed and useless owner; Pettigrew was reaping his reward for his hesitation, his moment of pity. He was being killed before Harry’s eyes, in a way that was grotesque, cruel, and utterly horrifying.

Wormtail’s face contorted in agony. He looked at Harry, wanting to say something but unable to utter a sound.

His terrified and helpless gaze was deeply etched into Harry’s heart.

Soon, Peter Pettigrew’s entire body was enveloped by the tendrils, sinking into the deep darkness.

“No!” Harry shouted again, “Give me the wand, Ron!”

He had to do something; he had to help Wormtail.

But Ron still didn’t respond, nor did he return the wand to Harry.

He stood silently behind Harry, quietly watching Peter’s agonizing death… almost as if he were enjoying it. …

“Give me the wand!” Harry said again, turning around.

He saw Ron holding the wand up to him, a flash of green light…

Harry collapsed heavily to the floor, and the room fell silent once more.

The black tendrils entwined around Wormtail’s body swayed aimlessly in the air. In moments, they drained every last shred of flesh from his corpse, leaving behind only a shriveled, broken husk.

Then, these horrible “parasites” seemed to be searching for a new target.

Soon, they found their target and left the lifeless body without hesitation. …