The Prisoners of Hogwarts

Chapter 295 Little Pettigrew Appears

Chapter 295 Little Pettigrew Appears (5K) (1/2)

After his brief reunion with Sirius in the cold winds of the Granpin Mountains that night, Remus Lupin's last shred of hesitation and guilt vanished completely.

Having witnessed firsthand the lingering pain of twelve years and the almost burning will to survive in his old friend's eyes, he became completely convinced of the truth told by Lynch and Sirius, and had no further hesitation about the plan he was participating in.

Every step is to tear away the false lies and welcome the belated justice.

This weekend, as with many others, he strolled to Hogsmeade.

After enjoying a warm butterbeer at the Three Brooms Bar and watching the noisy trick-and-trick shows outside Joko Widodo's joke shop for a while, I still looked like I was taking a moment to relax amidst the ordinary, everyday atmosphere.

As night began to fall over the roads surrounding Hogwarts, and the dark forest on either side grew ever deeper, Lupin wrapped his robes tighter and set off on his way back to the castle.

His steps were steady, but his mind was like a fully drawn bowstring.

Just then—

The dense bushes by the roadside, almost blending into the darkness, suddenly shook violently, accompanied by the cracking sound of dead branches breaking underfoot. A figure stumbled out like a startled wild beast and stood straight in front of Lu Ping!

Lupin abruptly stopped, his heart pounding. His wand slid into his hand in an instant, and he pointed it warily at the uninvited guest who had suddenly appeared, disheveled and ragged.

The other person had fresh wounds on their face and exuded an aura of dirt and panic, appearing ghostly in the dim light.

"Who?!" Lu Ping shouted sharply, his voice particularly clear on the quiet path.

The figure seemed even more frightened by his wand and shout, shrinking back slightly, but with a desperate urgency, cried out in a high-pitched, trembling voice, "Remus! No—don't do it! It's me!"

That sound!

Like a rusty needle, it pierced through twelve years of time unexpectedly and precisely into Lupin's eardrum.

Despite its hoarseness, distortion, and fear, the cowardly, slightly ingratiating tone was so familiar—it was the very voice he had been repeatedly sketching in his mind, wishing its owner would appear immediately!

Peter Pettigrew!

He's finally here!

Lupin's pupils contracted almost imperceptibly in the darkness, but almost at the same instant, his powerful willpower suppressed all his true emotions.

His face perfectly maintained the vigilance and suspicion one would expect when facing a stranger blocking their way; in fact, his brows furrowed even more, as if he were trying to recognize the voice.

"Who are you?" Lupin's voice remained cold and hard, scrutinizing. "How do you know my name?" He had to pretend not to know her; he had to act like a normal person would at this moment.

The man, as if grasping at a straw, shuffled forward half a step. His small eyes, hidden behind his disheveled hair, gleamed with terror and pleading on his filthy face: "It's—it's me, Remus! Peter—Peter Pettigrew!"

Of course I know it's you.

Lupin's heart was ice-cold.

But on the surface—

"You're lying!" Lupin's voice was low and dangerous, fueled by his feigned rage. He took a step forward, the tip of his wand almost touching the other's nose, the light from the tip flashing wildly in his emotional turmoil. "How dare you?! How dare you use that name to deceive me?! Peter Pettigrew died twelve years ago! He died a heroic death at the hands of that traitor Black! You dare impersonate him? Insult a dead hero?!"

His chest heaved violently, and his eyes burned with a furious rage at being desecrated.

His anger at this moment had to be genuine enough to mask the cold calculation lurking within him.

"No! It's true! Remus, let me explain!" Peter was so terrified he almost collapsed, tears streaming down his face, screaming incoherently. He clung tightly to Lupin's robe as if it were his only lifeline. "I'm not dead! But I have to hide! It's Black! He's the traitor! He sided with the Man of the Void, he killed James and Lily!"

He was breathing heavily, his small eyes looking around in fear, as if pursuers might rush out of the darkness at any moment.

"That day—that day he found me on the street, he was insane, he accused me of discovering his secret and wanted to kill me to silence me! I ran for my life—I barely managed to shake him off!" Peter's voice trembled with lingering fear. "But I couldn't go home, Remus! I couldn't! Black knew where my mother lived! And—and there were many other Death Eaters on the run, they were also monitoring the families of us Order of the Phoenix members, wanting revenge! If I showed up, my mother was dead!"

He raised his tear-filled face, trying to put on a tragic and painful expression: "I could only—I could only make everyone think I was dead. I thought that would at least protect my mother, and make Blake think he had succeeded and wouldn't investigate anymore—I lived under an assumed name, hiding here and there, like a rat in the gutter for twelve years—I endured humiliation and fear every single day!"

Then his tone became firm and angry: "But I can't hide anymore! I heard Black escaped from Azkaban! I know what he's up to! He's after Harry! Killing James and Lily wasn't enough, he wants to get his hands on Harry too! I can't stand by and watch! I have to stand up, I have to do something! I have to warn you, warn Dumbledore!"

He pointed to the wounds on his face and his tattered clothes, his voice trembling with tears and grievance: "I tried my best to get to Hogwarts to find you—but just as I was about to arrive, I was ambushed! Not by Black himself, but by his accomplices! He must have someone else out there! They wanted to stop me, to kill me! I barely managed to break free and escape—Remus, you have to believe me! Only you can help me now, let's stop Black together and protect Harry!"

As Lupin listened to this sophistry that distorted the truth and portrayed him as a hero who had endured humiliation, the cold anger in his heart almost froze into frost.

But his face revealed a range of emotions, from shock to sympathy, and then to a mixture of anger and resolve.

He took a deep breath and firmly supported Peter.

"Alright, Peter—if that's true—you've suffered." Lupin's voice was heavy with sorrow, yet tinged with a hint of determination. "We need to get out of here and find a safe place. You must tell me everything you know about Blake and his associates. We absolutely cannot let his plot succeed!"

In the shadows where the moonlight couldn't reach, Lupin's arm was steady and strong as he held Peter's, but his eyes, beneath his lowered eyelids, were a cold, icy pool, as if to say: Yes, of course I will "protect" you, protect you step by step toward the end you deserve.

The plan is progressing steadily along its predetermined path.

The fish finally took the bait.

Lupin, supporting Peter who was still trembling and rambling about his "fear" and "grievances," did not return to the brightly lit Hogwarts Castle, but instead turned onto a more secluded path that was almost overgrown with weeds.

This road leads to a long-abandoned hunter's hut on the edge of the Forbidden Forest, which was also one of the hideouts they occasionally used during their raider days to briefly shelter from the wind and rain or to hold secret meetings.

Pushing open the creaking wooden door, a wave of dust and musty smell hit you.

Moonlight slanted in through the broken window, outlining the shabby interior: a broken table, a few crooked chairs, and a dusty fireplace.

This place is desolate and secluded, perfect for hiding one's tracks and... having a conversation that no one else knows about.

Lupin waved his wand, cleared a space, lit the remaining dry wood in the fireplace, and carefully cast a spell to make the light invisible from the outside.

The flickering disc player dissipated some of the chill and darkness, and also reflected Peter's face, which was still filled with lingering fear.

He huddled in a chair by the fireplace, greedily absorbing the warmth, but his gaze kept darting uneasily toward the doors and windows.

"It's been so long since I've been here." Lupin's voice carried just the right amount of emotion as he looked around the little house filled with memories. "Remember that time in fourth grade when we stayed here all night to escape Filch? James even tried to use magic to turn that broken table into a banquet table that could automatically provide food—"

He deliberately brought up the past in an attempt to create a nostalgic and trustworthy atmosphere.

Peter paused for a moment, then forced a twisted expression on his face, a mixture of nostalgia and pain: "Remember—"

"I remember. Of course I remember. Those days—how wonderful they were." His voice lowered, choked with emotion, "But now—James and Lily—both because of that traitor—" He didn't finish, but the meaning was clear: he was once again placing all the blame on Sirius.

Lupin paused for a moment, a pained expression on his face. Then, his tone shifted, becoming serious and "reliable": "Peter, now that you're back and things are clear, we can't remain passive. Tomorrow morning, I'll go tell Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall. The Ministry of Magic must also know that Black has accomplices. We must concentrate our efforts to ensure Harry's safety and bring them all down in one fell swoop."

"No! No way!" Peter jerked his head up as if pricked by a needle, shrilly protesting, his face filled with genuine panic—this time not entirely feigned—that his goal would be impossible to achieve if Dumbledore and the others intervened.

He grabbed Lupin's arm and said urgently, "We can't tell Dumbledore! We can't tell the Ministry of Magic!"

"Why?" Lupin frowned, feigning ignorance, but his eyes held a probing look. "They have enough power to protect Harry and also to ensure Black is put on trial—"

"Trial? Then Azkaban? Or the Dementor's kiss?" Peter interrupted excitedly, his voice shrill with urgency. "That's too easy for him, Remus! He tried to kill me! Think of James! Think of Lily! They died so tragically! Black must pay with his life! This is a blood debt! It must be paid in blood!" He waved his mutilated hand, his eyes flashing with madness. "This is a matter between raiders! It's a debt between the four of us! It should be settled by us—by us who are still alive! This is—this is our responsibility!" He tried to use brotherhood and personal grudges to blackmail Lupin.

Lupin frowned, his face showing clear disapproval and struggle: "Peter, calm down. Hunting him down on your own—this isn't justice, this is revenge. And it's too dangerous! We don't know how many accomplices Black has—"

"I don't care about the danger!" Peter almost roared, then lowered his voice and said urgently in a seductive tone, "Remus, don't you understand? If we hand him over to them, Black might still try to argue and escape! Only by killing him ourselves can we ensure everything goes smoothly and truly bring peace to James and Lily!"

Seeing that Lupin seemed somewhat moved but still hesitant, he continued to raise the stakes, his voice conveying a sense of "heartfelt sincerity": "Besides, Remus, I don't trust them! Dumbledore—did he ever think about protecting my mother? No! He only had bigger plans in his eyes; he didn't care about the families of us little people! The Ministry of Magic is full of idiots; they were fooled by Black back then, how much better can they be now? Telling them will only alert them, letting Black and his cronies hide even deeper! We have to do it ourselves, quietly, to ensure absolute success!"

Peter stared intently into Lupin's eyes, his voice a desperate plea. He spurred, "Help me, Remus. Like before, let's team up. I know you hate him, and I hate him too! Let's find him together and avenge James and Lily! For Harry! That's the only right way!"

Lupin fell silent. He stood with his back to the firelight, his face hidden in shadow, making it impossible to see his expression.

Only his clenched fists and slightly heaving chest betrayed the intense struggle within him. He seemed to be weighing his options, grappling with morality, reason, and the hatred for Blake that Peter had deliberately instigated.

Time seemed to pass for a long time, and the firewood in the fireplace made a soft crackling sound.

Finally, Lupin slowly raised his head. His face appeared pale in the firelight, but in his grey eyes, the hesitation and struggle he had felt earlier seemed to have been replaced by a heavy, almost desperate resolve. He looked at Peter, his voice hoarse and low, as if each word had been uttered with immense effort: "James and Lily—" he murmured, his eyes flashing with pain, "You're right—some debts must be collected personally."

He paused, as if confirming his choice one last time, then nodded heavily, his eyes sharpening and turning cold: "Fine. We'll do it your way. We'll do it ourselves."

Inside the cabin, the flickering firelight cast two shadows onto the mottled walls.

One is putting on a show, portraying himself as a vengeful figure who has endured humiliation and hardship; the other is calmly observing the performance, his heart as cold as a rock, yet he perfectly plays the role of an accomplice persuaded by hatred and "responsibility".

Lupin knew that his prey had fallen completely into the trap, and he would continue on, burdened by the psychological pressure of this performance.

When Lupin's heavy words, "We—we will do it ourselves," fell into the quiet little house, Peter's face instantly shone not with simple joy, but with a light that was a mixture of extreme excitement and ruthlessness, as if a bloodthirsty hound had finally been unleashed from its chains.

"What do you plan to do?" Lupin's voice remained low, carrying a hint of hidden scrutiny. He needed to know how far this rat had progressed in his scheme.

"We need to find out where he might be!" Peter practically jumped out of his chair, pacing excitedly in the cramped space, his missing hand gesturing towards the name. "Remus, think about it! We know him like we know ourselves! He may be insane, but some habits, some instincts, are incurable! Especially when he thinks he's safe, or is planning something!"

He turned sharply to Lupin, his eyes gleaming in the firelight: "Hogsmeade! The Shrieking Shack! That was one of our key outposts back then, he knows it's absolutely well-hidden! And those observation posts deep in the Forbidden Forest, near the Whomping Willow, which only we know about, are good for spying on the castle! Even—even inside Hogwarts, those secret passages we used for our nighttime excursions, could he be trying to sneak in using one of them?"

Peter spoke rapidly, as if these thoughts had swirled in his mind countless times: "We can start searching from these places! Follow the trail of our raiders' past activities!"

"We're bound to find some clues! He'll definitely leave his scent, traces, or—or perhaps we can deduce his next move!" His tone was filled with impatience. "We can start tomorrow, no, tonight! Begin the search around the Screaming Shack and the Whomping Willow! We can't give him any more time!"

Listening to Peter's almost thoughtless, clear, yet ruthless and urgent plan, Lupin felt as if his heart was being immersed in the Arctic Ocean.

This was by no means a spur-of-the-moment decision, nor should it be the state of someone who has just escaped a "dangerous situation" in a panic.

These locations and this line of thinking have clearly been carefully considered and refined.

Peter's murderous intent toward Blake had become so intense that it was undisguised, even bordering on morbid obsession.

He couldn't wait to immediately trace the marks left by their past friendship, to drag out the people he once called brothers, and tear them to pieces.

This impatience, this personal hatred and fear hidden under the banner of "avenging a friend," made Lupin feel a physical disgust and coldness.

He could almost see Peter's vile soul twisting and dancing in the flames of greed and murderous intent.

Lupin's face darkened. He shook his head and firmly denied it, "No, Peter. We can't go to the Screaming Shack."

Peter's excitement and eagerness froze instantly, as if he had been doused with a bucket of cold water.

A fleeting hint of genuine frustration and impatience at the thwarted plan crossed his eyes, and his body stiffened for a moment.