Chapter Text
Wednesday, May 25th, 1994
I don’t remember what happened; I really don’t. All I know is that one second I was finishing up the essay I needed to submit to get into writing camp, and the next I was standing in a shabby shack with five other people. Five oddly familiar people, though I’d never met any of them before.
“An animagus,” Said Sirius Black, “by the name of Peter Pettigrew.”
“What’s my name?” I mumble, dazed. I’m sure I’m probably…but how could I be?
“What?” Sirius asks.
I shake my head, trying to become more ingrained in reality. Or whatever this was. “You want me to trust you, right? So, what’s my name? It’s the most basic fact about me, if you can’t answer, I won’t believe.” I change my confusion to seem like a test even though I really am being genuine.
“Your name is Harry James Potter.”
I knew it. “What’s today’s date?”
“May 25th, 1994.”
Perfect. “Alright, let’s go.”
“What?” Everyone in the room asked simultaneously, except me who already knew what I was saying and Severus Snape who hadn’t arrived yet.
“You’re an animagus, right? That’s how you get around undetected, that’s how you took Ron, you’re the dog who’s been stalking me all year. Transform so the dementors don’t detect you, trap Pettigrew in a jar so he can’t transform, then let’s go. We need to talk to Dumbledore.”
“You believe me?” Sirius seemed…confused and in awe, which was sweet, but also dangerous. Not enough time.
I take the chance to petrify Pettigrew, easily grabbing my wand. I was worried I wouldn’t be able to do the spell, but Harry’s magical abilities seemed to transfer over.
“Someone conjure a jar big enough for him, I don’t know how.”
Everyone stood stunned, not by a spell, for a few seconds before Remus Lupin complied, sticking Wormtail into the jar, screwing on a lid, and saying some Latin over it with his wand.
“Now he can’t change back and just break the jar to escape once he wakes up.” Remus explains.
“Good, I’ll carry the jar.” I snag the jar from Remus without warning; it’s safest with me. “Sirius transform, Hermione help Ron, Remus stay here. It’s a full moon and we really don’t need a transformed werewolf around making this harder.”
I’m not entirely sure what’s happening or why, but I’m sure as Hell not letting the same mistakes be made twice.
We run into Severus, looking at my invisibility cloak, outside the tree.
“Hello, Professor.” I acknowledge him. “That’s my cloak, Professor Lupin is inside the shack. He hasn’t changed yet, but I’d be quick if I were you.”
I take my cloak from his hands and walk off with a limping Ron, Hermione, a rat in a jar, and a large black dog before he can respond. I’d have talked more if there weren’t dementors and it wasn’t a full moon, but there are dementors and it is a full moon, so I have to wait some to talk to my favorite character more.
Other than that, we surprisingly don’t run into anyone else until we make it to the gargoyle guardian of Dumbledore’s office. That’s when I realize I don’t know the password except that it has to do with candy.
“Uh….Lollipop. Chocolate Frog. Peppermint.” Miraculously, the gargoyle moved on my third guess and we went up the twisting stairs. I wasn’t entirely sure Dumbledore would even be in his office, but there he was, sitting behind his desk looking at papers. Well, sheets of parchment, at least.
“Ah, Harry, Ron, Hermione.” Dumbledore looks up and smiles, not seeming surprised to see us, let alone a petrified rat in a jar or random dog. “What can I do for you?”
“Sirius Black is innocent, Peter Pettigrew is alive.” I waste no time with pleasantries.
“Those are some pretty bold claims, Harry, my boy, and I just don’t think—”
“This is Peter Pettigrew.” I shake the jar in emphasis.
“Why do you think that?” Dumbledore indulges.
“They only found his finger, right? But that makes no sense at all, no spell does that.” I don’t actually know if that’s true, but confidence is key. “ And this rat is missing the toe that is equivalent to the same finger found. Additionally, I happen to know my father and his friends were unregistered animagi, and Pettigrew was a rat that looks exactly like this. On top of that, this is not a magical species of rat, it’s just a common non-magical garden rat, and yet it’s somehow twelve plus years old? Common non-magical garden rats only live two to four years, in captivity. Only one to two years in the wild. The domesticated rat who lived the oldest ever was named Rodney and died exactly four years ago, to the day. Rodney was seven years and four months old. How do you explain all that, Headmaster?”
Dumbledore actually seemed to consider my words. “How do you know it’s not a magical species?”
“The pet shop owner said so last summer when we got Hermione's cat. Anyway, it’s obvious, even if you don’t know your rodents, and I know my rodents. He doesn’t do anything, he doesn’t react to anything, he’s just a rat. A Norway rat, also known as a brown rat, sewer rat, gray rat, field rat, or garden rat, to be specific.”
“Still….”
“Just do the spell.” I groan, already done with it all. This body has been awake all day doing exams and sitting around waiting to do exams and this mind has been up for thirty-nine hours straight writing and rewriting and rewriting again, so there really isn’t much energy left to give. I just really want to go to sleep.
“What spell?”
“The spell that forces animagi to transform back to human.” I drag a mostly unpetrified Wormtail from the jar and carelessly sling him on Dumbledore's desk, much more rough then I’d be with a real rat. “Go ahead.”
“Mutare animali.” Dumbledore points his wand at the faux rat and his wand emits a blue-white light, directly hitting ‘Scabbers’.
The change begins immediately, and maybe I have different views from Harry, or maybe Rowling was just trying to keep the book child friendly, but I would definitely use the word gruesome to describe it. Though, it isn’t not interesting as well.
His body goes through multiple rapid growth spurts, over and over again, hair disappearing in patches and growing in patches like a beast being skinned, not quite regrowing and regenerating the skin as fast as it disappears. His body has been rat-like too long, it doesn’t want to go back. His muscles pop like guns, his bones snap into new positions, his skin stretches and pulls until baggy and then too tight. His pained screams fill the room. This isn’t right, his body is forever ruined. Absolutely repulsive, but also stunningly beautiful.
I can hear Hermione sniffling behind me, crying. Ron is muttering, something I can’t make out, but it’s not happy. Dumbledore’s face has gone blank. I don’t know what I look like, and I can’t quite describe my emotions either. Pettigrew is easy though, he’s terrified, but not of death or Azkaban or Sirius, of what’s currently happening to him. And Sirius is…hungry. Like a cannibal. I can feel it in the air.
“I told you.” It takes me a moment to realize I’m the one who said, the room is deadly silent now, and Sirius takes the chance to transform himself. It’s quicker, easier, painless.
“Headmaster—” Sirius almost begs, before going silent.
Dumbledore doesn’t respond for almost a minute, until I’ve re-petrified Pettigrew so he doesn’t escape…so he stops sobbing and writing on the ground, having fallen from Dumbledore’s desk.
“We’ll need to get the minister and some aurors here. Go to the hospital wing, children, I’ll handle it.”
I don’t know if I should believe him or not, I definitely don’t trust him in general, but the thought of staying here is excruciating, so I lead my…Harry’s friends out. I don’t know where the hospital wing is, but we make it, eventually.
I fall asleep on an empty bed before Madame Pomfrey even enters the room.