Hogwarts: I Am Such a Model Wizard

Chapter 430: Scabbers Really Is Just a Rat

Below them was a narrow tunnel that stretched on endlessly. Kyle walked for a long time but never saw Harry and the others ahead of him.

”Are they really running that fast?” Kyle muttered to himself, quickening his pace.

After about ten minutes, the tunnel began to slope upward, and soon Kyle saw a faint glimmer of light. He knew he had reached the Shrieking Shack in Hogsmeade, the endpoint of the secret passage.

The room he entered was a messy, grey space with barred windows and only a few dim oil lamps on the walls. The light he had glimpsed came from these lamps, which cast a faint but sufficient glow over the small room.

As Kyle stepped inside, a tense atmosphere filled the room. Hidden by the Disillusionment Charm, his shadow danced on the wall in the flickering lamplight, but no one noticed him—not even Professor Lupin and Sirius Black.

In the corner, Lupin and Black argued heatedly over a table, while Harry, Ron, and Hermione stood on the other side of the room, beginning to grasp the gravity of the situation. Ron, torn between fear and frustration, kept glancing at his rat, Scabbers, and seemed hesitant to retrieve him.

“When Scabbers bit me, I should’ve known something was off,” Ron muttered weakly. “Scabbers is gone now, but Lupin caught him with some sort of spell... Would a professor actually come after us with his wand? Snape wouldn’t! He must’ve had this planned for ages. Why didn’t I figure it out sooner...”

“But why would they want Scabbers?” Harry asked, eyeing Lupin and Black with suspicion.

“I don’t know,” Ron replied, sounding uncertain. “Maybe they just like killing people’s pet rats.”

But Harry and Hermione didn’t think that made sense. Risking so much over an ordinary pet rat didn’t add up.

As the argument escalated, Harry caught a familiar name in the midst of the shouting.

“I didn’t betray James!” Black shouted, finally voicing the words he’d kept bottled up for so long. “Peter was the real Secret-Keeper... We switched, and I thought that would keep You-Know-Who away. As long as he came after me, James and Lily would be safe.”

Black’s voice wavered, and he looked on the verge of tears, though twelve years under the torment of Dementors had long since stripped him of that release. His grip on Scabbers tightened, and he shook the rat with reddened hands.

“But I never thought this damned, cowardly traitor would run off and tell You-Know-Who where to find them the very next day after becoming Secret-Keeper.”

Black raised the struggling rat higher, his face contorting with rage as he sneered. “You must have been thrilled… whatever reward your master gave you for it!”

“Enough! You’re both mad, both of you!” Ron suddenly shouted. “It’s not Peter; it’s Scabbers—my pet rat!” Summoning his courage, he took a step forward. “I’ve heard enough. Just give Scabbers back!”

“I’m sorry, Ron, but I can’t let you leave until the truth is clear,” Professor Lupin said, taking the rat, who looked close to suffocating, from Black.

“That is the truth!” Black snapped, his frustration mounting. “I told you before—if you’d just looked at the Marauder’s Map, you’d see Peter’s name clear as day… it’s right in Filch’s office!”

“You think I didn’t look?” Lupin replied coldly. “After your second break-in, I went straight to Filch’s office, but the map was already gone.”

At this, Harry’s head spun. He knew Peter Pettigrew’s name; he’d heard it from Minister Fudge at The Three Broomsticks. But wasn’t he dead—killed by Black himself?

The Minister of Magic couldn’t possibly be lying.

Thinking this, Harry couldn’t help but speak up. “You can say whatever you want now, but Pettigrew was killed by you—and there were witnesses all over the street!”

“What they saw wasn’t what they thought it was,” Black said gruffly. “He tricked everyone with cowardly tricks!”

“But Scabbers can’t be Peter,” Ron insisted, still unwilling to believe it. “He’s lived in our house…”

“For twelve years!” Black retorted. “Do you think an ordinary rat could live that long?”

“That’s because Kyle’s been brewing him a rat tonic,” Ron argued. “He started making it back when Scabbers was Percy’s pet, and he’s kept it up for years.”

“Who’s Kyle...?” Black paused, caught off guard by the name, which seemed to stir some vague memory, though he couldn’t place it.

“A very bright student,” Lupin answered, “and incredibly knowledgeable.”

“So, just a kid who hasn’t even graduated yet…” Black replied dismissively. From Ron’s tone, he’d assumed Kyle was some kind of expert Magizoologist.

“He got lucky and ran into an Animagus, then arrogantly thought his tonic was responsible for the longevity!” Kyle, who had been standing nearby, raised an eyebrow. Though Blackʼs statement was technically true, hearing it put so harshly irritated him. He’d put effort into crafting those tonics.

Black continued, undeterred, “Isn’t Scabbers missing a finger?”

“So what?” Ron replied defensively.

“They only found the finger…” Harry remembered what Fudge had mentioned before.

“Yes, the coward cut off his own finger just before he transformed,” Black said, his voice filled with resentment. “After I had him cornered, he screamed so the entire street could hear that I’d betrayed Lily and James. Before I could even cast a spell, he used the wand he’d hidden behind his back to blow up the street and escape down the drain with the other rats…”

“Madman!” Ron exclaimed, looking at Black as though he were listening to the most absurd story imaginable.

Hermione, her voice shaking as she struggled to stay calm, interjected, “But, Professor Lupin, Scabbers can’t be Peter Pettigrew. You must know that.”

“Why do you think it’s impossible?” Lupin asked, his tone level.

“Because if Peter Pettigrew were an Animagus, people would know… the Ministry of Magic keeps records. There have only been seven Animagi registered this century, and Peter Pettigrew’s name isn’t on the list.”

“You’re right, Hermione,” Lupin acknowledged, “but the Ministry doesn’t know that there were three unregistered Animagi at Hogwarts.”

“How can you prove it?” Harry’s head was spinning. “Prove that Scabbers is Peter Pettigrew!”

“It’s very simple, and that’s exactly what I’m about to do.” Lupin gave Black a penetrating look. “I hope you’re not lying to me, or else…”

His tone grew cold, and he threw Scabbers to the ground, pointing his wand at the rat. A blue light shot from the wand, enveloping Scabbers’ head.

Black laughed, his sunken eyes glinting with a strange excitement. Harry, Ron, and Hermione watched the rat on the ground with bated breath.

But nothing happened.

Scabbers remained the same, frantically scurrying across the floor until Ron finally managed to catch him. Black’s triumphant smile froze, while Ron adopted a look of smug satisfaction.

“See? I told you they were all crazy. How could Scabbers be Peter Pettigrew?”

Harry turned to Lupin, who appeared crestfallen. Lupin raised his wand toward Black, his expression dark. “What more is there to say? This is ridiculous! I can’t believe I actually trusted a traitor like you!”

“No, that’s not true…” Black said, stunned. “There must be something wrong with the spell. He is Peter Pettigrew... I won’t accept this as a mistake!”

“Save it for the Dementors,” Lupin replied coldly.

In Ron’s hands, Scabbers had stopped struggling, his small eyes reflecting a look of stunned relief at his apparent escape.

“No… Remus, it’s not true…” Black fell to his knees, grabbing hold of Lupin. “You must be mistaken. I beg you, give me the wand… let me…”

“Don’t even think about it!” Lupin commanded, aiming his wand at Black. “Stay back…”

Before Lupin could finish, Black ignored him and lunged forward, knocking him to the ground and wresting the wand from him. A second blue light appeared, just as ineffective as the first.

“Impossible… This is impossible…” Black muttered, overwhelmed with frustration.

Harry, regaining his senses, raised his wand. But before he could cast a spell, a faint, familiar voice spoke from the shadows.

“Expelliarmus.”

Kyle, no longer concealed by the Disillusionment Charm, stepped out, catching the flying wand with a steady hand.