Rat Trap

DISCLAIMER: That part of this world and those characters you’ve seen before belong to their Creator: JKR. The rest is mine - although I cannot quit my day job as I make no $$$

A/N: Right. I had actually written a different Chapter at this point and then another and another and then realized: wait a second! I missed a really important bit! So I went back and wrote the next two chapters…

CHAPTER SIXTY: RAT TRAP

MONDAY, DECEMBER 6 th 1993

Dumbledore took only a look, but that was enough to tell his this was not going to go well. The Wizengamot had been called into judicial session. This had not come as a surprise to him at all. But they were all here and that did. While notice had been sent that this was to be a trial before “the Full Wizengamot,” that was mere a term and not a state. So long as thirty-three members were present, it was considered a “Full” session for there would not be enough absent members for there to be a retrial or appeal. The proceeding before the Full Wizengamot was reserved for only the most serious cases because there could be no appeal to the decision as, in theory, everyone who could hear the appeal rendered the original decision in the first place. What made this day disturbing, from Dumbledore’s perspective was that no one was absent. He could not remember the last time there were no absences. There were always those who failed to attend for one reason or another. This would not go well.

“Madam Clerk,” he intoned quietly.

A witch stood and spoke in a loud voice: “The Wizengamot of Greater Britannia, Full Judicial Branch, is now in Session! Before it is the sole matter of the Wizard Peter Pettigrew charged with numerous felonies,” she called.

“Call the roll,” Dumbledore said. This was more tradition. He knew all were present, but the roll was called just the same. When the roll was called and all were present save the votes from the Ministry, for the Ministry could not attend such judicial sessions, he looked up. “Madam Bones? You are presenting Law Enforcement’s case?”

“I am, Chief Warlock,” the woman said rising from a table before the risers holding the members of magical Britain’s government.

“Then I take it House Bones will not vote on this matter,” Dumbledore noted.

“I will not exercise House Bones vote,” Madam Bones agreed. “Naturally, were there to be any doubt in my mind, I would not be seated here, rather in the Wizengamot proper. Arguably, because there is no doubt in my mind, it would be improper for me to exercise my House prerogative as impartiality would be lacking. That being said, a properly executed proxy is on file for this proceeding. Lord Black holds the House Bones proxy.”

“Indeed? I was not aware that Lord Black was exercising his rights. House Black’s long standing proxy is present and answered when called and I do not see Lord Black amongst us, or have my eyes and ears deceived me?”

At that moment, there was a commotion at the back of the Chamber. “Bloody Hell! I’m a member of this body even if you dolts’ve never seen me before! The robes are a dead giveaway, if you have yet to figure that out!” A man then strode in with some Aurors behind him. “Amelia,” he asked, “kindly tell these dogs I’m not a bone they’re allowed to chew on! Oops. We’re in session, aren’t we?”

“Just called into session,” Madam Bones nodded. “And Dawlish, this is a Head of an Ancient and Noble House you seem to be accosting. Kindly go back to your post and keep out those who are not supposed to be here, not those who are.”

“You are tardy, Lord Black,” Dumbledore said.

“Um… had to use the loo, you know,” Sirius said.

“I was unaware that you’re to exercise House Black’s vote.”

“Make’s two of us then doesn’t it? My - or I should say House Black’s proxy’s here and I’m not here to take his place in this. Madam Bones asked me to serve as proxy for House Bones and I agreed. It’s all square, you know, forms filed and everything. Judicial session. Can’t vote two seats, you know.”

“The filing is here, Chief Warlock,” the Clerk said.

“See? Guess I can take a seat then.”

“Might I ask how this came about?” Dumbledore asked.

“How what came about? This?” Sirius snarked waving his arm about the room. “Couldn’t tell you. I was told this place was made long before I was born, you know.”

“I meant your being here as a proxy.”

“I would assume in the usual way,” Sirius said more formally. “She asked, I agreed, we filled out the forms and they were filed. Did I miss something?”

“No,” Dumbledore noted. “But such an arrangement between your Houses has no precedent.”

“I was unaware such was a prerequisite to offering or accepting a proxy.”

“It’s not. It is just unusual seeing as your Houses have been traditional rivals in this Chamber.”

“And you’re suggesting ‘cause our ancestors didn’t see eye to eye on things, we would be better off at each other’s throats? Seems rather against your own stated beliefs. And you forget this is judicial, not legislative session and families opposed in legislative assembly have voted together in judicial session without the world thinking the sky was falling or suggestions that alliances were shifting or what have you. Besides, as this is judicial session, she can no more influence my vote on this matter than I can influence the vote of my own proxy, which is to say not at all. What little impartiality we can claim would be out the window if we had to vote the way others tell us to in such a matter. Amusing as this is, do I really rate such an examination for getting stuck in the loo?”

“I suppose not,” Dumbledore conceded. “You may be seated. Madam Bones, are you ready to proceed,” he added as Sirius took a seat.

“We are, Chief Warlock.”

“Is there representation for the accused?”

“Sorry,” a voice called as a young man in a Muggle looking suit came in. He looked a little disheveled as did his briefcase which seemed to have papers sticking out and about. “Brendan Bole, Bole, Bole & Goode… and associate, Sir, for the accused. Had a little trouble with the goon squad outside.”

“The what?” Dumbledore asked.

“Sorry. Aurors. Seemed terribly interested in my briefcase. Told them in no uncertain terms attorney client stuff, you know? There is a such thing as confidentiality and all. Their wands seemed less convinced and I’m mindful to lodge a complaint seeing as it could have compromised my client’s case in theory. Don’t think it did, though. Maybe I will anyway…”

“While I’m familiar with your firm,” Dumbledore continued, “I cannot say the same for you, Sir.”

“Ah! Well, I’m not one of the two Boles, you see, just another one and I’m certainly not the Goode seeing as he’s been dead rather a long while.”

“I don’t recall seeing you before the Wizengamot, is what I meant.”

“I should think not!” Bole said indignantly. “My clients might engage in such behaviors that would attract such attention but I do not!”

“I meant as a solicitor, not an accused, Mr. Bole.”

“Oh right. Never had the occasion. My clients have managed to avoid the pleasure. My Uncle’s not been so lucky. Been here a fair few times. Helped with a few, I did, behind the scenes as it were. But my Da and Uncle felt it was high time I have the pleasure so here I am, for what it’s worth.”

“Madam Bones?” Dumbledore asked. She merely shrugged. “Very well, you may be seated Mr. Bole. Bring in the accused.”

All eyes turned to a different door from the one that Sirius and Mr. Bole had entered, one which led to the holding cells. A body was floated out, hovering in mid air and being guided towards a severe looking wooden chair with heavy chains attached to it and to the floor. The Aurors guiding the body positioned it in the chair and the chains seemed to jump to life, wrapping the body almost to the point where only the head was visible.

“What’s wrong with my client?” Mr. Bole asked.

“Stasis charm,” Madam Bones answered. “A useful idea for prisoner transport. I do mean to thank House Potter for it.”

“He looks dead!”

“He’s not.”

“Harmed?”

“Possibly a little temporal confusion, nothing more.”

“And that is?”

“He’s frozen in time, you dolt!” a voice called from the Wizengamot.

“There may be a moment’s disorientation when he’s revived,” Madam Bones said. “After all, he was in his holding cell just a second ago by his recollection. Nothing more and I argue nothing that will affect his ability to understand what is going on or respond to questioning.”

“You don’t honestly expect me to roll over for that one, do you?” Mr. Bole asked. “The accused is not required to respond to questions!”

“Except upon motion for cause duly filed and argued before the Petit Panel, which one was a little over a month ago and opposed by your Uncle Roscoe, I believe. The motion of the Ministry was granted with the required findings.”

“Oh,” Mr. Bole said sounding dejected. “And that would be my Da. The other Bole is my Uncle.”

“I was unaware of any such hearing,” Dumbledore said.

“You were out of the country, Chief Warlock,” Madam Bones replied.

“Our procedural rules do not require the participation of any one member of this body, Chief Warlock,” Madam Longbottom said. “We cannot delay the wheels of justice simply because one of our number feels his time is better spent in foreign parts.”

“Ungrateful foreign parts,” another voice added. “Might’ve been clear of this matter had you not insisted on your need to be there. No idea why that matters.”

“Be that as it may, requiring the accused to submit to questioning is a serious matter, one which should not be entered into on a whim.”

“Cut the games, Dumbledore,” another voice said. “If Madam Bones and Madam Longbottom say the Petit Panel properly considered the matter, unless you or someone else here’s going to prove they’re lying, as you said let’s get on with it.”

“I move we adopt the pretrial rulings of the Petit Panel!” a voice called.

“Seconded!” another sounded.

Dumbledore sighed. “I am unaware of their rulings.”

“There’s a motion pending, duly seconded,” Madam Longbottom said.

“Very well. All those in favor of the motion?”

“AYE!” it seemed most of the voices answered.

“Opposed? Nay,” Dumbledore said with a handful of others. He sighed again. “The motion carries, regrettably. The rulings of the Petit Panel are adopted and made part of the record. Revive the accused and read the charges.”

One of the Aurors cast a spell and Peter Pettigrew seemed to wake up. He seemed to recognize where he was and began to whimper.

“Peter Alan Pettigrew,” the clerk began, “Wizard, you are hereby charged with numerous capital crimes to include murder, attempted murder, conspiracy to commit murder, rape, use of the Killing Curse, use of the Torture Curse, use of the Imperius Curse, conspiracy to overthrow the government of Greater Britannia, conspiracy to make war upon the Muggles and acts in furtherance thereof, Class One violations of the Statute of Secrecy and numerous other crimes to wit:…”

It took over an hour for all the charges to be read. Only a handful of them had any bearing on the events that almost killed the Potters and the days that followed and, based on the dates given, most charges stemmed from events that happened probably before he had become the Potter’s Secret Keeper. The conspiracy charges all came from his role as a Death Eater. After all, there were few if any who did not believe that Voldemort wanted to take over or that he wanted to attack the Muggles. Those charges had been used many times in the past, but there had never been a conviction. “Finally, that you are and have been for some time an unregistered Animagus, specifically a form of rat, and that you have used your form in furtherance of the above charged crimes and to evade justice. How do you plead?”

Pettigrew whimpered for some moments before finally saying something. “Im… Im… Imperiused. I was Imperiused. May I go now?”

“That is not a plea,” Madam Bones said.

“What do you mean?” Mr. Bole countered. “Scores used that back then and got to walk. What makes my client any different?”

“The law changed long ago,” Madam Bones said somewhat irritated, “or didn’t you get that memo? It’s a defense if you can prove it and you need to prove it separately for each and every accusation, while confessing the actual commission of the offense alleged. Besides the obvious, this issue was raised before the Petit Panel which ruled that the amnesty law that allowed such a plea does not apply to this case. If your client wished to avail himself of the former policy, he would’ve been well advised to have come forward before the law changed.”

“Moreover,” Madam Longbottom added, “the allowance of a reprieve under that defense was extremely limited in time. It was never made a permanent feature of our law and expired after the six month amnesty period allowed by this assembly. Individuals whose otherwise criminal actions were predominantly if not entirely due to their efforts for either side during the war had to come forward, confess to at least some of their otherwise criminal conduct, and swear an oath upon forfeiture of their property and freedom that they would never engage in such acts again. Individuals who avoided custody and failed to come forward on their own before the amnesty period expired are still subject to prosecution for their actions should they ever be caught.”

“That is the Ministry’s understanding of the relevant law, Madam Longbottom.”

“Regrettably, it is my understanding as well,” Dumbledore sighed. “It was enacted to prevent people from settling old scores and acting as their own court. I would’ve preferred a longer grace period, but I too was mindful that there might be those few who could never forgive nor ever accept forgiveness or ever question their own decisions and actions in that war. The majority vote in this body understood that some would refuse to accept that it was over, but most likely those few unrepentant individuals would not seek the amnesty. Hence, it expired under its own terms about eleven years before it was known that your client, Mr. Bole, was still amongst the ranks of the living and had not passed on as everyone believed. I would that it were otherwise, but I am but one voice among many and the many spoke to this matter long ago. We will enter the plea of not guilty. Continue Madam Bones.”

Dumbledore was pleased that his pronouncements from his chair were not given while under veritiserum or a wizard’s oath. He had fought hard to keep the door open for those who came to see the light later than others, but had lost that fight. He still did not agree with the law as it applied to those who had fought for what they believed back then, as misguided as those beliefs may have been. He did not see the purpose or benefit to society in punishing people for being on the wrong side. But his colleagues decided that there must be some way to sort the misguided from the committed and felt that those who could not and would not accept the situation should not be treated as kindly as those who willingly lay down their wands and quietly returned to their lives. Dumbledore felt that the end of that grace period was sure to allow what he saw before him: a man on trial not just for what he may have done, but for all the crimes that went unanswered following the last war. Many in the Wizengamot had been victims or at least their families had been. Others might have been sympathetic, but the former Order member’s behavior since the war - hiding as a rat - would probably mean that those who may have supported that cause back then would be as eager to convict as those who opposed it albeit for different reasons.

“Administer the veritiserum,” Madam Bones intoned to the Auror guards.

“I object,” Mr. Bole said. “Since when has veritiserum replaced the Ministry’s burden of proof? No civilized society forces an accused to place his own noose over his head as it were and offer testimony!”

“It has been the custom in capital cases for centuries, Mr. Bole,” Madam Bones said.

“Doesn’t make it right or proper! Most countries have done away with the inquisition, as it were.”

“If by countries you mean the Muggles, I will concede your point,” Madam Bones replied. “But we are not Muggles. Where they have failed to devise an effective matter at revealing whether a statement is truthful or not with anything approaching consistency, we managed that long ago.”

“It is still my client’s right to request a ruling from the panel!”

“A motion is before us,” Dumbledore said. “All of those in favor of allowing the accused to remain silent rather than offer testimony compelled under veritiserumm, say Aye! Aye!” Unfortunately as Dumbledore suspect, aside from the few members who always followed his lead, no one joined the vote. “Opposed?”

“NAY!” the vast majority called out.

“Very well. You’re motion is denied, Mr. Bole. You may proceed to interrogate the accused under veritiserum, Madam Bones.”

As a student at Hogwarts, Sirius like most had heard of Veritiserum. Before the War, it was taught in detail in NEWT level Potions but it was dropped from the curriculum during the war lest such knowledge be used for immoral purposes or so it was said. Thus, until Auror training he had little more than a basic understanding of the potion and he had never seen it in use. Most people thought it was a powerful truth serum, and that was a way to describe it, but it was also simplistic and misleading. Sirius learned that the “truth” is relative. If a person believes a lie to be true, Veritiserum will not expose the lie as false. If a person thought he saw Mr. Jones kill his wife, then the potion would not change that even if the killer was someone else in reality.

Testimony at a trial using the potion was therefore indistinguishable from testimony without the potion. Both sides could ask questions and it was the Wizengamot that was tasked with deciding what was the objective truth of the matter based upon all the evidence. The one advantage to the potion aside from the fact that the person will not consciously lie about anything was there was a strong compulsion element that made the witness want to answer the questions. It was said that a man known for his silence would become quite talkative if not eloquent under the influence of the potion.

Peter Pettigrew had never been much of a talker, at least not the Peter Pettigrew Sirius remembered. The man chained to the chair looked like Peter and Sirius had seen this same man in his animagus form and knew that form was Peter. Peter looked old, much older than Sirius did or Remus for that matter and much older than his thirty-three years would suggest. Despite spending a dozen years in Azkaban, Sirius looked at least a decade younger than his former friend. He smirked a little, believing it was because he did not truly have a guilty conscious. While through most of his time in prison he had blamed himself for the death of his friends, he knew he had not killed them. He made a decision which seemed appropriate at that time, one which turned over their security to a then unknown Death Eater. The Rat, on the other hand, had spent the last twelve years knowing what he had done and hiding from it as a rat. Perhaps that was why he looked so worn down. But whatever sympathy Sirius may have felt for the broken down wizard seated in the dock was tempered by the knowledge that he had tried to see two of his best friends killed so that a baby would also die and it was because of that man that Sirius had missed most of his daughter’s life.

The testimony was incredible and yet Sirius knew he had to believe it, or at least believe that Pettigrew believed it to be true. As it came out, he was forced to wonder if he ever really knew Peter Pettigrew. Amelia was trying to get this man’s full story out, so she had begun well before any of the events alleged.

Peter was a Half-blood which was hardly a revelation for Sirius. The Pettigrew name was from his Great-grandfather who was Muggle Born. His mother was a Pure-blood from a long distaff line of a now defunct Ancient House. Both of his parents had worked as his line was not one that enjoyed trust funds or anything approaching a life of leisure. At Hogwarts, he had been a lackluster student despite being friends with Sirius, Remus, James and Lily who had all finished at or near the top of their year. Again, Sirius knew this. It was Peter’s life after Hogwarts that was a surprise.

“Did you obtain employment after finishing school?” Amelia asked.

“Yes,” Peter replied. “Apprentice type-setter with Cuffe & Doyle Publishing. They also run the Daily Prophet. Pay wasn’t bad but the hours were a bit much seeing as the Prophet was set and printed at night.”

He then went on to explain his job. It sounded dull. Copy, as it was called, came down to the print shop and the type setters arranged the type for the press one letter at a time. Once a page was complete, they would run the page, making scores and even hundreds of copies. This was a daily task with the Prophet. Books were another matter since they did not change at all from day to day. In that case, the type-setters made permanent plates for each page and the books were then printed as needed. Late spring and early summer were especially busy as this was when the text books for the next school year were printed. The Daily Prophet, however, needed to be re-done every day naturally. Peter was assigned to that group.

“Why type-setting?” Amelia asked.

Peter shrugged. “They had openings and the pay wasn’t bad. There weren’t a lot of jobs out there that paid as well and… well, that job did not attract a lot of applicants since it was not particularly magical in nature. It also seemed safe and at that time few other jobs were. If you worked in a shop you had to hope they didn’t offend the wrong people. Ministry jobs were asking for trouble. People there got knocked off all the time. Cuffe & Doyle had never been attacked, so it seemed safe enough. Once I started working there, however, I wondered why it was not a target.”

“Why did you wonder that?”

“There were an awful lot of Mudbloods who worked there. My shop practically reeked of them,” he said venomously.

Sirius was surprised at his use of that word. For seven years at Hogwarts, use of that word guaranteed a vicious prank from the Marauders, and Peter was one of the Marauders. Lily Evans had been a friend to Peter, and yet he still used that word which applied to her. Did he know Peter at all?

“So, you don’t think much of Muggle Borns, do you?” Amelia asked.

“Why would anyone?” Peter replied. “They are a filth dumped into what should be pure water. They are a poison, an infection.”

“And yet you were a member of the Order of the Phoenix, were you not?”

“I was. My friends all joined up as soon as they finished school and so did I.”

“That organization did not think Muggle Borns were filth.”

“Neither did I when I joined up. I was taught the error of my misguided beliefs.”

“By whom?”

He gave some names, none of them meant anything to Sirius.

“They were coworkers on my shift,” he went on. “Two of them - the ones that did most of the talking - were purebloods whose families had fallen on hard times a few generations back and had yet to climb out of it all the while watching as upstarts climbed ahead of them. The other was a Half-blood like me whose ancestor made the mistake of marrying a knutless, Mudblood wizard condemning themselves and the next several generations of their descendants to obscurity.”

That was not true, Sirius thought. There were plenty of examples of Muggle-Borns who had done well in their world. St. Mungo’s had quite a few. Many had done well in business and as solicitors and such. Ted Tonks was quite successful. Madam Bones herself was one. But the potion did not make a person see the objective truth. It was clear that Peter really believed that rubbish. He had said he wanted to join his friends as an Auror track Hit Wizard when they left school but his marks were far below the threshold. They would’ve taken him as a Hit Wizard. They were desperate for wands by then. But for most of the newly recruited Hit Wizards it was not a career opportunity and it was hardly a safe job.

“Were any of your new friends Death Eaters?”

“Not that I am aware,” Peter replied. “They might’ve been. I would not be surprised if they had connections.”

“So you were not one right off?”

“I took my mark about a year after leaving school,” he said proudly.

“Of your own free will?”

“You can’t take the mark any other way!”

“So, despite what you said earlier, you were not under the Imperius Curse?”

“No. I suppose one could be coerced into taking the mark. But it still must be an act of free will. For whatever reason, you have to want it.”

“And you wanted it?”

“I wanted to be on the winning side. I knew it would not go well for the losers and I couldn’t be truly neutral. Given who my friends were at school, no one would believe that.”

“And you thought the Death Eaters were going to win?”

“Not at first. When I was at school, I believed my friends were right and they were convinced the Dark Lord would fail in the end. They joined the Order to see that happen; to help make that happen and I joined too ‘cause I still thought like they did. But it was soon clear to me the Order was useless. All they did was talk and bemoan the failures of others. They did little or nothing - or if they did I knew nothing of it.”

How true, Sirius thought. Peter had little to offer or so they thought. He wasn’t combat trained and as far as they knew he had no useful contacts of any kind. He did not seem to have access to useful information or the skill or ability to act on it.

“And yet you joined the Death Eaters.”

“When I realized how wrong they were; how foolish. It was obvious who would win in the end. It was only a matter of time. The Order might’ve had no use for me, but the Dark Lord did. I was, after all, in the Order.”

“So you were a spy?”

“I reported whatever went on at Order meetings to my superiors. If that was being a spy, then so be it. What they did with that information was none of my business.”

“So that was your job as a Death Eater? To spy on your friends?”

“It was not all I did for the Dark Lord. I think I was more valuable to the Cause as a type-setter than as a member of Dumbledore’s cabal of Blood Traitors. I was used to send messages to the assault teams and such.”

“Assault teams?”

“Groups of Death Eaters who did the Dark Lord’s bidding, although it wasn’t that simple. More often, the teams came up with an idea and the Dark Lord either approved it and set them to it or he did not. The ‘go’ order was sent through the Daily Prophet.”

“So the Prophet was part of the organization?”

“Not really. It was just a medium of communication. You’d have to ask the higher ups whether they knew that or not. Maybe they did, but it wouldn’t matter. It was the type setters who sent out the orders and we got the word to do so from someone else; someone with no connection to the paper or publishing house. I don’t know his name. I only met him a couple of times and it was clear he was in disguise even then. Could’ve been the Minister for Magic for all I knew. He would tell us that a certain unit had a ‘go’ order and we’d misspell a word in a specific paragraph counting from the first page. That was the ‘go’ order for whatever was to happen.”

“Did you know who those units were? Who was in them?”

“No. I knew my immediate superior and those in my group and some others high up. That was it. I couldn’t even say which misspelled word did what.”

“So you had no idea what those misspelled words caused?”

“Could’ve been orders to pick up the Dark Lord’s laundry, for all I knew. I doubt that. My guess is someone did not fair too well when one of those words was misspelled. But as they were all scum and were to be dealt with one way or another in time, it didn’t matter if they met their ends sooner than others.”

“So it did not matter to you if people died because of those messages?”

“Why should it have? They were standing in the way of what was meant to be, weren’t they? They were scum who refused to learn their place or Blood Traitors who sullied themselves with scum or those who would deny and defy the necessary order of things. They were a blight that needed to be removed to achieve what was always meant to be. No better than rats or other vermin, really, and such vermin are exterminated all the time.”

Who was this man, Sirius thought. The Peter he knew wasn’t like this.

“Did you kill anyone?”

“Those who deserved elimination, of course. Yes. Most certainly. Then again, I swat flies too.”

“Who did you kill?”

“As I said, those who deserved it: Muggle filth and their Mudblood scum spawn, Blood Traitors, those opposed to the true order and those who stood in the way.”

“That’s in addition to the twenty who died in Camden Towne?”

“That many? Really? Bloody good day’s work that. Oh, yes. I killed a fair few before then. Couldn’t tell you what they called themselves, most of them at least. Didn’t know their names. Didn’t care, really.”

“By name who do you remember killing?”

“Hmmm… Something-or-other Smith and his friend Johnson. Mudblood type-setters they were and questioned a misspelling so that night after work we paid them a visit. Johnson’s wife was a lot of fun and killing her was even more so. I was allowed to help do the McKinnon family. They were in the Order and it was my reward for some information that was said to have been useful. That was a fun night as well.”

“Fun?”

“We were allowed to play with them first - especially the females. I like it when they beg. Not that it matters. They can beg all they want, but they’d still get taken, get tortured and get killed.”

“So you raped them too?”

“Just the females. There were some who where into boys, but not me. Before that night, Marlene wouldn’t’ve given me the time of day. She put out that night ‘though. It’s amazing what you can get a bird to do with the Imperius Curse. A real screamer that one.”

It continued on and on. While this man was hardly at the level of some like the Lestranges or Malfoy, he had done a fair bit of vile things. Sirius could not believe it, but he knew it had to be the case. What was particularly disturbing was Pettigrew sounded as if he was proud of himself. Sirius knew that Pettigrew was not Inner Circle. That lot was the scariest and worst of them all and all of them were known. Pettigrew was a low level Death Eater. Some rose from such to upper levels, but only through skill and only when casualties created a vacancy. Pettigrew never rose above the lowest rung and was little more than expendable but he was proud of it. And he was scary. He was almost gleeful when he talked about using the Imperius Curse to rape and to get family members to rape, torture and kill their spouses, children or parents. He was not a fan of the Killing Curse. He thought it too clean and said he wanted his victims to know they were dying. With that curse they were just dead. Sirius had no idea who this man was. It was Pettigrew, but this Pettigrew and the one he knew were very different people.

“We spoke some time ago about your spying on the Order of the Phoenix… ,” Amelia continued.

Pettigrew snorted. “It’s not like they mattered or something. It’s not like they were the government. Bunch of deluded, idealistic waist with misguided beliefs and notions, that’s all they were. And I wasn’t much of a spy or if I was I’m unaware of it. Aside from the McKinnon job, I’m not sure I gave the Dark Lord anything of value. Oh, they knew there was a spy. There were some things that got messed up and they were certain it’s ‘cause someone in the Order was tipping us off. But they never suspected me. Aside from the McKinnon business, if the Dark Lord was tipped off, it had to be someone else in the Order. I only learned what would’ve been useful after it went pear shaped for the Order. I doubt any of the fools thought I was marked. They probably thought I didn’t think that way and wouldn’t have the stones. But yes, to the extent my learning things in the Order could be used against that cabal of Blood Traitors, I would pass it along. Actually, I passed on everything I ever heard and knew about them and what they were doing. But there were leaks before I took the mark and probable ones after that weren’t my doing 'cause I didn’t know the stuff that had been leaked.”

“You knew where the Potters were.”

“Not until the end, really. Well, not once after they went into hiding. The Dark Lord wanted them dead. He wanted the Longbottoms dead as well. He also forbade all of us from doing them. They were his and his alone. Guess that lot survived one time too many.”

“And the young boys?”

“He wanted to kill them personally for some reason. That’s why we weren’t allowed to do them ‘cause we might do the boys as well. Don’t ask me why. What could a couple of boys in nappies do? But the Dark Lord wanted them and wanted to do them personal like. Then again, we are talking 'bout two Ancient and Noble Houses that were traitors to their kind in every way. Those were two Houses that hadn’t been particularly prolific in begetting heirs in recent generations. Snuff the parents and the brats and those Houses would be no more. Guess the Dark Lord figured ending them personal like would send a message to the others.”

“The Potters made you their Secret Keeper.”

“Last mistake they ever made,” Peter said smugly. “Black was their Secret Keeper but got cold feet or something. Until then, I had no idea where they were at. They never suspected me and they were handing themselves over on a silver platter as it were. So yeah, I became their Secret Keeper.”

“And you went right out and betrayed their secret.”

“I did my duty to our kind,” Peter replied. “James Potter, Heir of an Ancient and Noble House sullied his ancestors by marrying that Mudblood and breeding with it. He was undeserving of all he had inherited.”

“So as soon as you became Secret Keeper, you went to the Dark Lord…”

“As soon as I could. I don’t think Black trusted me. Oh sure. He was the one who suggested I should replace him as Secret Keeper. I smelled a trap. I figured he did that to expose me and he did seem to keep an unnaturally close eye on me once it was done. Had to wait until I knew I wasn’t being watched. But once I was sure, yes, I went to the Dark Lord and told him the secret. Led him right to the house where the scum thought they were safe.”

“Did you go in with him?”

“Was told it was his business and I was to go about my own. No. I stayed outside. I know he killed Potter and then… then something went wrong.”

“What?”

“Explosion. Upstairs. The window and wall blew out. That wasn’t the Dark Lord’s style so I waited a bit and when he did not come out I went in. As soon as I got to that room I knew. I knew it had gone horribly wrong. The Mudblood was dead, but the brat lived and the Dark Lord’s robes, mask and wand were there but he wasn’t. Don’t know what kind of dark magic the Potters had dabbled in, but it had to be bad to do that to such a powerful wizard.”

“So Voldemort was dead then and…”

“Dead? I didn’t say he was dead, did I?”

“Surely he was killed…”

“He was no normal wizard! A normal wizard would’ve been killed. He cannot be. Don’t ask me how or why, but he cannot be. He was gone… is gone is all. He was defeated, but not permanently. I know.”

“How?”

Peter shrugged. “I still feel him,” he said rubbing his left arm. “It’s barely noticeable. Not at all like before, but I still feel him faintly. It’s a little stronger now than it has been, or maybe that’s ‘cause I haven’t gone about in human form in some time, I don’t know. But somehow, I think, were he truly gone I would not feel him any more and yet I do.”

There was a commotion following that revelation. Sirius doubted that many truly believed Pettigrew but there could be no doubt that Pettigrew believed Voldemort had somehow survived.

“You didn’t finish the job?” Amelia asked once it was quiet again. “You didn’t kill the boy?”

“The Dark Lord said only he would do so and who am I to defy the Dark Lord?” Pettigrew replied.

“So you just left the boy there?”

“Why not? He was not my responsibility, was he? Who knows? Perhaps that hovel would’ve collapsed and done us all a favor. But yes, I left. Wasn’t about to stick around, was I? I figured the Order would be there quickly and I was right. Saw one of them coming up the walk moments after I left.”

“He didn’t see you?”

“He might’ve, but he would not’ve seen me for who I was. I wasn’t about to walk about as Peter Pettigrew, was I? The Order had to know I was the Potter’s Secret Keeper and therefore I was the one who turned them over to the Dark Lord and they would hardly be understanding about that, would they?”

“You’re an unregistered animagus, is that correct?”

“The fools never thought I’d ever pull that off, but I did! Yes. Never registered. Never told anyone.”

“What is your form.”

“A rat.”

“Appropriate,” someone said from the Wizengamot.

“Useful,” Pettigrew replied. “Great for sneaking around and even better if no one’s the wiser.”

“Did anyone know you were an animagus?”

“The Potters did, but they weren’t about to tell anyone any more, were they? Black did, but things went bad for him, didn’t they? Bad enough, I should think, that had he told everyone and anyone that I was an animagus no one would’ve believed him - at least no one who didn’t already know and there was only one other who did and he was out of the country.”

Sirius was a little surprised for it seemed that all this time Peter still did not know he was there. Then he remembered that the potion affects vision such that everything is a blur.

“So you just scampered?”

“Wasn’t that simple, was it? Always knew there was a chance things would go terribly wrong. Played it so they wouldn’t, such that it would not matter who won in the end ‘cause I was playing for the winning side, wasn’t I? But there was always a chance that wouldn’t work so I had an escape planned. Had a pile of money hidden away and was hoping to go on an extended holiday, if you will. Had things to do first. Insurance should the time arise, you know.”

“What insurance.”

“The Dark Lord’s wand. Took it, I did. Figured he’d want it once he returned and who better to have kept it safe for him? He might even overlook what went wrong that night. After all, that wasn’t really my fault, was it? But you can never be sure with the Dark Lord so I wanted something to put me in his favor when the time comes and keeping his wand safe and out of the hands of his enemies seemed a good idea. I’ve heard how he can express his disappointment and want nothing to do with that.”

“What did you do with the wand?”

“Buried it.”

“Where?”

“Under a large oak just outside the village where it happened. Easy enough to find ‘cause it’s all alone beside the road at the top of a rise.”

“You blew up the street in Camden Towne two days later?”

“I suppose. About the time, I mean. I wasn’t really paying attention to dates. But yes. I saw an opportunity to get rid of one of the only ones who could betray me and make an escape and took it. Don’t know how the blighter survived. Must’ve case a shield charm or something.” Peter shrugged. “Not like I stuck around to find out. The bastard must’ve found my stash so I had to change plans and quickly.”

“Your stash?”

“Money I had collected over the months from those unfortunately enough to not stop me from taking it. I hid it in a flat I had there. Black was stepping out of it just as I arrived so I figured he beat me to it. I don’t remember telling him about it, but he’s a sly one, he is.”

You were rather drunk at the time, Sirius thought. Nothing sly at all, although you managed not to reveal how you came by the money.

“It took you two days to bury the wand?”

“No. I was done with that in an hour or so.”

“So where were you between the time of the attack on the Potters and your encounter with Sirius Black in Camden Towne.”

“Trying to see which way the wind was blowing, as it were. I knew the Order might be after me. They had to know I was now the Potter’s Secret Keeper and probably would not be all that friendly since the Potters' Secret was out and only I could’ve revealed it. I doubted the Ministry was about to give me a medal either. The real question was the Death Eaters. A few knew I had passed on information about the Potters to the Dark Lord, but would they know it all? Would they keep me safe or turn on me? I had to know.”

“Did you find out?”

“They believe I somehow double-crossed the Dark Lord. They put the word out I was to be killed on sight for that. I was at the meeting or at least a rat was. That meant nowhere in Britain was safe for Peter Pettigrew so I had to leave. But then Black got to my stash so that option was gone as well. Managed to get clean away, but to where? I had no money and couldn’t very well go to Gringotts or back to my job. Every Death Eater was looking for me for what they think I did to the Dark Lord and they were not about to offer be a cup of tea, were they? Everyone else and their mother would be after me for what happened to the Potters so I stayed the rat.”

“Living in the sewers, no doubt.”

“No. Might’ve used one to get clean away, but those places are nasty and there’s not much to eat. A real rat might find that filth appetizing, but not me. Dustbins behind restaurants offer a much better fare and so long as the cats aren’t too abundant…”

“So, you dined in dustbins all this time?”

“I would’ve, had I not learned about what happened.”

“And what happened to change your choice of establishment?”

“Saw a copy of the Daily Prophet. Can’t tell you which one, ‘cept it was several days later. They said Black copped to the whole thing, was a Death Eater the whole time. Funny that. There was a price on his head. His Cousin Bellatrix Lestrange offered ten thousand Galleons to any of us who killed him and brought her the body so if he was a Death Eater, I’m Dumbledore. The paper said he killed me when I tried to bring him in. Other way around 'cept I didn’t snuff it. Said they gave my Mum an Order of Merlin since I was dead and couldn’t accept it. So, at least some of the heat was off. But I doubted the Death Eaters had stopped looking. Even if they had, I’d be dead as soon as I appeared in public unless the Dark Lord called them off which would only happen when he returns and if I’m in his favor and it wouldn’t do for me to rise from the grave with the other lot either since they might then bother to ask real questions.”

“Where did you go?”

“Weasleys,” Pettigrew said. “They were in the Order and seemed tight with Dumbledore. I figured they’d be a good place to go.”

“As a rat?”

Pettigrew nodded. “They live on a farm so a rat’s not out of place. I’d been there often enough with the Order so I knew they didn’t have a cat. Couldn’t. Their garden’s practically crawling with Garden Gnomes which would not be the case if there was a cat. I figured I’d find a place in the walls and knick food from their kitchen cupboards or something.”

“But why go there at all?”

“Figured if the Dark Lord were returning, I’d hear it there sooner than anywhere else, at least anywhere that was no more hazardous to my health.”

“Wouldn’t the Death Eaters know sooner?”

“Most of them were scrambling to cover their backsides,” Peter said with disgust. “Bunch of cowards! It was clear who was truly loyal. With the Dark Lord gone, few of them were willing to risk their lives or their positions for the cause. Most would sooner say it was all a mistake. Aside from a few - and they’re in Azkaban - I doubt any of them wanted the Dark Lord found any time soon. Or, I should say, they were not about to risk themselves or their positions to do the finding. Besides, they’re not the most trustful lot. Truth is, without the Dark Lord to bind them together the majority of them are not on social terms with each other at all and would not be inclined to invite any of their colleagues over for tea or anything else. To each other, about all the others are good for are Pure-blood children for betrothals and sometimes not even then. Most of them bury their homes under layers of nasty wards and most of those wards would expose me were I to cross them. They knew the Aurors used animagus for scouting and such.”

“But you were at that meeting after it happened.”

“It was in a field. As I said, I doubt any of them would open their homes to all but a handful of the others without the Dark Lord around to - er - convince them to do so. The field belonged to none of them and was therefore neutral ground and as such it was not warded against much of anything and certainly not against an animagus.”

“And you weren’t worried about such wards at the Weasleys?”

“I knew they didn’t have them. Many of the wards that concerned me are dark enough in nature that the Weasleys would never consider them. They were a trusting lot, quite unlike your average Death Eater.”

“So you lived in the walls all this time?”

“Hadn’t figured on the brats. No. One of them found me and asked ‘Daddy’ if he could keep me as a pet. Much nicer than walls and I dare say the food was better. Course recently I got passed down to a younger one and he was not as diligent ‘bout cleaning my cage. Got rather ripe at times and not particularly comfortable even as a rat. But the brats got me into Hogwarts too, which meant I was closer to Dumbledore who I suspected was not as certain about the demise of one Dark Lord so I figured I’d hear the news all the sooner. It worked for years and none of the fools were any the wiser: not the Weasleys and not that addle brain Dumbledore.”

“And yet here you are.”

“Hadn’t figured on the girl,” Pettigrew said. “The youngest of the brat and of the lot of them the only one who seems to have brains. That and she managed to bring a cat into the house. I wasn’t about to leave that cage with that thing skulking about. I don’t know how she spotted me, but she did - the girl I mean. Set a House Elf to take me, although where she got a House Elf I can only guess. The Weasleys didn’t have one, which was another reason why I chose them as I don’t trust those things at all.”

“Looking back, do you regret anything?”

“Getting caught. I must’ve gotten complacent or missed something.”

“Nothing else?”

“What’s to regret? I might say that we have not won, but it’s not over yet, you know. It should be, but that’s not my fault.”

“And those people you killed?”

“They would’ve been killed anyway. They are a disease and we were the cure and if I hadn’t done it there were many who would’ve. I regret the job is unfinished but again that’s not my fault.”

Part of Sirius wanted Amelia to ask why. Why had he done it? There had been hints here and there in his testimony, but Sirius was still unclear as to what changed in Peter Pettigrew or whether he was always like this. A part of Sirius wanted to know the motive. But he also knew that was irrelevant. You did not need to even suggest a motive to prove guilt. The law only required proof that he did the deed, that he had no legal justification for doing it and that he intended to do it, that it was not and could not have been an honest mistake or accident. The law did not concern itself with the ‘why’ of such things beyond that.

Motive, Means and Opportunity. These were three things investigators looked for and three things solicitors cared less about. There was a reason. By the time the case got to Madam Bones, there was evidence to support it. But when the case first got to the Aurors, often there was nothing but a victim who died from “unnatural” causes. It was rare there were any witnesses to the actual crime aside from the dead body and its killer, rarer still any who would talk and almost unheard of to catch the criminal in the act. You were left with a dead body and the whole world as suspects. Motive, Means and Opportunity was a tool to reduce your list of potential suspects from everybody to somebody. Conviction, however, was just a matter of proving the accused did the deed. It was a question answered through evidence. The why behind the deed was unnecessary and it was usually the defense that brought that into play either to put the entire case into question or to justify what happened. But unless it was a legally recognized justification, the accused would still do time.

Sirius knew a little about Muggle law and knew they recognized defenses based upon mental states such as insanity. Being insane reduced ones criminal culpability somehow, but it did not allow the accused to walk free. They might spend time in a place like St. Mungo’s pychomagical ward, but they would not be set free. The wizarding world had no such defense. If you killed someone without proper legal justification (and your opinion on that was never relevant) and with the requisite intent, it did not matter if you were raving mad at all. That being said, despite what Peter had said under the influence of the potion, the case was not closed or might not be. True, his mental state would not save him assuming it could. But his testimony was about what he believed to be true, not the truth itself. Madam Bones had him dead to rights for the twenty muggles in Camden Towne. Sirius’s trial testimony as well as that from others at his trial were already part of the record and corroborated Pettigrew’s.

But so far there was no such evidence about anything else. A delusional wizard could be convicted for committing a crime even if he thought he was under attack by trolls and not a family of innocents out for a stroll. But one could not be convicted for believing they committed a crime when there was no crime at all. Sirius and Madam Bones both knew that James and Lily Potter had not died that night (Madam Bones being brought in on that secret before Sirius’s trial). But neither of them could offer evidence of that so long as the Fidelius Charm remained in effect unless the Secret Keeper was free and willing to cooperate, which was not going to happen yet. But it highlighted the flaw with Veritserum. Pettigrew believed he led Voldemort to the Potters and the Potters were killed as a result which, if true, was a serious crime. But the Potters were not dead, so the crime was merely an attempt and not as serious. Sirius had no idea about any of the other crimes Pettigrew had confessed. He wondered about the McKinnon crime as some of the assailants had been caught and tried and none of them mentioned Pettigrew at all. He wondered how Madam Bones was going to handle that.

“Your witness, Mr. Bole,” Amelia said.