In the dimly lit room, the walls were covered with medieval-style adventure tapestries and portraits of Slytherin himself, almost completely obscuring them. Green silk hangings filled the remaining spaces. The small beds were draped with silver silk sheets, and the ceiling was adorned with silvery-white lanterns.
The Slytherin students were away from their dormitories for Christmas, leaving only one person and one rat.
"What's wrong? Have you become so pathetic that you're frightened out of your wits by a single bark?" Malfoy crouched down, scrutinizing the large iron cage before him. Incongruously, the cage, large enough to hold a full-grown man, contained only a rat, cowering in the corner.
"Oh, look," Malfoy said with feigned surprise, pulling a piece of parchment from his robes. It was covered with detailed maps and writing. He waved it in front of the rat. "Aren't you supposed to be Scabbers? Why does this map say 'Peter'?" Malfoy's eyes narrowed as he spoke with a mocking tone.
"It seems the Weasleys are quite fond of you, even giving you a common human name, haven't they?" Malfoy said, gently tapping the large iron cage. The polished black bars were so dark they seemed to absorb all the surrounding light.
Scabbers frantically scurried around the cage as it shook. He felt doomed. When he saw the map, he understood everything and no longer wondered why he had been caught in a cage that had seemingly fallen from the sky.
"You're even scrawnier than I imagined. Any thinner, and you might slip through the bars of this cage," Malfoy said, stroking his chin.
"So, you've never been to the Slytherin dorms before, have you? Do you find the atmosphere here more to your liking than the Gryffindor common room?" Malfoy stood up, spreading his arms wide.
"But even betrayal is rare in Slytherin and a despicable act."
With each word Malfoy spoke, Scabbers grew more nervous and terrified. The immense fear was like a giant python, ready to swallow him whole. He wanted to transform back into his human form and beg for mercy, but the cage completely restricted the flow of magic within him, preventing him from changing back. All he could do was squeak desperately, trying to convey his unease and fear.
"Am I right, Peter Pettigrew? The Dark Lord's not-so-faithful servant?" Malfoy raised his eyebrows.
"Or perhaps you prefer the name Wormtail?" Malfoy pretended to ponder, as if genuinely troubled by what to call him.
Peter Pettigrew shrank back into the corner of the cage, trembling uncontrollably, his fur standing on end like a hedgehog. His small, black eyes darted around in their deep sockets, searching for a way out.
"You must be wondering why I know this secret, right?" Malfoy said slowly, his tone becoming more menacing, his gaze more intense.
"I had a bit of luck," Malfoy continued. "Your current master's twin brothers gave me a very useful map." Malfoy sighed. "Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs... when you helped create this map, did you ever imagine it would be used against you one day?"
Peter Pettigrew's trembling gradually subsided.
"You must have visited Filch's office quite a few times, haven't you?" Malfoy raised an eyebrow. "We're quite friendly now, and he often complains to me about a rat disturbing his peace and driving his Mrs. Norris crazy."
"Want to get the map back? Escape Black's pursuit?" Malfoy chuckled. "You're still so cowardly, never considering solving the problem directly, only running away. And when you can't run anymore, you choose betrayal." Malfoy clapped his hands, but it didn't sound like genuine applause.
"I suppose I should answer the question in your mind. Why do I know this secret?"
"Now I'm considering what to do next," Malfoy said, resting his chin on his wand, a thoughtful expression on his face.
"Do you think a dog-rat battle would be entertaining?" Malfoy asked, then laughed. "I'm eager to see what happens when I put the two of you in the same cage." Malfoy pointed his wand towards his bed. Peter Pettigrew involuntarily followed the direction of the wand.
In that instant, he felt utterly trapped.
Years of playing a rat had taught him night vision. Under the dark bed frame, he saw another cage, larger than the one holding him. Inside lay a black dog he knew all too well. It was the reason he had been acting so cautiously these past few days.
His body, which had just barely stopped trembling, began to shake uncontrollably again.
He felt that in front of this boy, his deeply hidden, shameful secret was like an onion being peeled layer by layer, exposed in all its nakedness.
He doubted whether he would be instantly bitten in the neck if he were to be with Black in this state.
He was so terrified that he desperately clawed at the hard floor, creating a grating noise, trying to leave a mark on the ground.
"Perhaps you could follow the same path as Black," Malfoy said, ignoring Peter Pettigrew's frantic actions. "I have a little Veritaserum left. It's quite delicious, would you like to try some?" He pulled out a small, transparent bottle from his robes, with only about a tenth of the liquid remaining.
Malfoy shook his head and sighed, pointing with his hand. "His willpower is quite strong, a man who can maintain his sanity after being tormented by Dementors for over a decade. I poured almost half a bottle down him before he started telling the truth."
Malfoy glanced at Peter with disdain and said, "You, a drop should be enough, right?"
Peter finally understood how Malfoy had learned those secrets about him.
But under the pressure of mortal fear, Peter Pettigrew's mind began to race. He wondered how he should beg for mercy to save his life.
Just as he was pondering, a wand suddenly poked through the bars of the cage. The tip erupted with intense blue-white light, so bright that he had to squeeze his eyes shut.
A shrill squeal continuously escaped from the rat's tiny mouth.
Its small black body writhed frantically on the floor. Another dazzling flash, and then—it was like a fast-motion film of a tree growing. A head appeared on the ground; limbs sprouted. Moments later, a man was sprawled where the rat had been, wringing his hands nervously, his whole body trembling like a leaf. His squinting eyes darted around, avoiding direct eye contact with the boy.
"How long has it been since you last took a bath?" Malfoy's eyes were filled with disgust, but he took a few steps closer to the cage, speaking in a light, almost cheerful tone, quite different from before. "But, I must say, you're quite lucky, Peter."
...
Compared to Peter Pettigrew's good luck, Sirius Black's luck might not have been so good.
Even the cleverest fox can't outsmart a good hunter, because the hunter inherently holds an advantage. A hunter suffers no serious consequences for failing to catch prey, but the prey's fate is sealed once caught.
Let's rewind to an earlier time, during that holiday when Malfoy and Fudge were in discussion.
After Malfoy and Fudge concluded their discussion, he braved the swirling snow and returned to the castle, where he received a pleasant surprise.
Filch, carrying his oil lamp, excitedly ran over to inform him that the large black dog he wanted to catch had been captured. Filch then led him to his still dilapidated office, still reeking of roasted fish.
"Look, this is the one, right?" Filch said with a proud expression.
A cage sat on his desk, and a large black dog was staring directly at them, looking back and forth. It was hard to imagine a dog could wear such a focused expression.
It was the same iron cage, only Sirius Black was much larger than Peter Pettigrew. The black dog's eyes showed no fear or panic, but rather a fierce coldness.
Sometimes, seeking help appropriately can give the person helping you more satisfaction, thereby increasing their trust in you.
Therefore, Malfoy asked Filch for help, saying that a black dog had been appearing in the dormitories of various houses, always at night, barking and disturbing their sleep.
This was perhaps the first time a student had asked Filch for help, giving him his first taste of being recognized.
So he treated this task with even more enthusiasm than Malfoy.
In addition, Malfoy often studied Black's route when entering the school on the Marauder's Map, figuring out Black's movement patterns.
With careful planning against carelessness, the one who had once escaped Azkaban prison was so easily trapped in an iron cage.
"How about handing him over to the headmaster?" Filch said excitedly, rubbing his hands together.
"Then I estimate Professor Dumbledore would 'generously' release him again," Malfoy said, shrugging.
"No way, I spent so long catching him." Filch quickly shook his head in refusal. He and Malfoy had practically filled the school's secret passages with traps, and he himself had been patrolling frequently, finally catching the dog today. He couldn't accept letting him go so easily.
He looked up at Mrs. Norris, who was hanging from the chandelier, her eyes filled with affection, and said, "It's all because of this dog. She's been listless these past few days. Look how pitiful she is." Mrs. Norris immediately yawned lazily in agreement.
"How about a dog meat hot pot?" Malfoy snapped his fingers.
"Can this thing be eaten?" Filch stared at the cage, swallowing hard.
"Of course," Malfoy nodded, then exchanged a few more pleasantries with Filch before making an excuse to take the cage back.
But after that, he didn't return to his dormitory. Instead, he walked along the long staircase, constantly going to the higher floors, until he reached the eighth floor.
"I need a quiet place, I need a quiet place, I need a quiet place." Malfoy thought to himself. Before him was a huge tapestry, a giant figure, an ugly troll, was beating the foolish Barnabas in front of him with a club. Malfoy kept pacing back and forth in the passage, as if waiting for something.
A smooth door suddenly appeared from the wall.
"This place is very secluded, right?" Malfoy said, looking at the black dog in the cage.
Apart from the iron cage, Malfoy, holding the cage, pushed the door directly and entered. A foul smell of dust assaulted his nostrils, making him cough a few times.
"It's actually my first time here," Malfoy thought, casually tossing the cage to the ground, creating a dull thud, and then began to look around.
Rather than calling this a junk room, it was more like a city with towering walls… the streets and alleys were lined with piles of rickety old furniture… there were thousands upon thousands of books, undoubtedly stained, scribbled on, or stolen; there were winged slingshots and Fanged Frisbees, some of which were still listlessly circling the piles of forbidden objects; some broken bottles contained already solidified potions; and there were hats, jewelry, cloaks…
The Room of Requirement.
"How is it, this place is not bad, right?" Malfoy bent down and said to Black in the cage. "Absolute quiet and secrecy, allowing me, a Hogwarts student, to communicate peacefully with an Azkaban escapee."
"Let me introduce myself. My name is Draco Malfoy. In terms of seniority and blood, I should probably call you uncle, oh, or maybe uncle. I've never been interested in these titles," Malfoy straightened up and began to introduce himself.
Black's front paw slowly lifted, then fell, snorting heavily, his indifferent eyes constantly scrutinizing Malfoy.
"Oh, sorry, I seem to have forgotten something." Malfoy said as if suddenly awakening, then stretched the wand into the cage and began to chant a spell. As the spell was cast, the black dog in the cage gradually grew larger, and the black animal fur slowly faded away, Black gradually revealed his angular face and tall, thin figure.
Due to the latter, he had to curl up his body in the cage to find a foothold. (To be continued.)
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