"Mobilicorpus." Lupin incanted.
Peter Pettigrew rose into the air, an ugly, limp puppet, his head lolling uselessly.
Professor McGonagall gave Lupin a nod. "To the Headmaster's office," she said.
Not long before, amidst Peter's weeping, she had conjured her Patronus—a silver cat—to send a whispered message to Dumbledore. The Wraith Mouse in Anthony's pocket had startled, scrambling deeper into the fabric.
The silver cat vanished. Moments later, a beautiful, large silver bird abruptly materialized in Anthony's office.
It circled a few times under Anthony's astonished gaze, then landed on Professor McGonagall's shoulder. When it opened its beak, Dumbledore's voice emerged. "I shall await you and Poppy in my office." It turned to Lupin. "Welcome back, Remus."
Lupin's wand, still pointed at Peter, drooped. He looked suddenly, bone-deep tired. "Thank you," he murmured.
The phoenix-shaped Patronus gave a clear, musical cry and dissolved.
Anthony held the door open. Professor McGonagall, expression grim, floated Peter into the corridor. It was class time. Most students were in classrooms, chewing quills, staring blankly out windows. No one would think to visit this remote hallway—
"Good afternoon, Professor McGonagall." Nearly Headless Nick poked his head through the wall, one hand steadying his neck. "I was wondering if you'd mind me borrowing the room down in the— Oh, my."
"Use it freely, Sir Nicholas," McGonagall said.
Nick almost forgot to hold his head. His eyes darted between the floating Peter and her. "R-right," he said. "I shan't tell a soul, Professor McGonagall. Upon the honour of Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington."
He yanked his head back through the wall as if someone might try to behead him again.
"You'll likely acquire some strange new rumors, Minerva," Anthony said, following Lupin out and closing the door behind them.
Professor McGonagall said haughtily, "As if I don't have enough already. Move along."
Perhaps Nearly Headless Nick had warned his friends. For the rest of the journey, they encountered neither living soul nor ghost.
Anthony walked at the rear, watching Lupin take in the corridors, staircases, and windows. The weather outside the castle was fine. Sunlight glittered gold on the newly frozen surface of the lake. A few students free from classes were playing by the Black Lake, tumbling over the bare ground.
Lupin paused at a window. He pressed a hand against the stone, then turned back to Anthony with a smile. "I almost forgot… Might I ask what subject you teach, Professor Anthony?"
"Muggle Studies," Anthony said, catching up. "I only arrived at Hogwarts last year."
"Muggle Studies?" Lupin's tone held a note of surprise. "And the current Defence Against the Dark Arts professor is…"
"Professor Gilderoy Lockhart," Anthony supplied.
Lupin nodded. "Ah, yes. I'd heard." He studied Anthony for another moment.
Professor McGonagall, without turning, said, "Henry is one of the finest Muggle Studies professors we've had… but if you were the Defence professor, Henry, I fear you'd be among the worst."
"Couldn't be worse than me teaching Herbology or Potions," Anthony said.
McGonagall reminded him, "Or Astronomy."
"Fine. And Astronomy, Divination, Arithmancy, Ancient Runes, and Care of Magical Creatures," Anthony listed. "I think my History of Magic is passable."
Lupin chuckled softly. "You must be joking."
Anthony blinked. "Why?"
"To my knowledge, the prerequisite for teaching at Hogwarts is at least eight O.W.L.s and one N.E.W.T.," Lupin said.
Thankfully, they had reached the gargoyle guarding the Headmaster's office. Anthony was spared from once again questioning Dumbledore's original hiring logic.
"That was the old regulation, Remus," McGonagall said. "And Henry was not a Hogwarts student."
"Ah, that explains it," Lupin said. "I was wondering how I could have forgotten you, Professor Anthony. I hope I haven't left too poor an impression."
Anthony shook his head. "Not at all."
"Pumpkin Pasty," Professor McGonagall said.
The gargoyle sprang aside. Anthony could see its stony gaze trying to flick upwards towards the floating Peter, but it was unable to lift its head. It rolled its eyes frantically. Yet, it maintained a dignified silence.
McGonagall gestured for Lupin and Anthony to step onto the spiraling staircase. She followed, Peter bobbing behind them. Anthony sighed.
Lupin glanced at his face, understanding. "I truly am sorry, Professor Anthony. Especially since it was your office…"
"No, really, it's fine," Anthony said. "I told you, I have a cat with… a temperament. What bothers me is something else."
"What?"
"Ron Weasley's pet problem," Anthony said, troubled. "I really should have had him come see Scabbers turn human. How am I supposed to explain this to Arthur and Molly?"
True to his word, Dumbledore and Madam Pomfrey waited in the office. Madam Pomfrey looked furious, and the entire room resembled a miniature hospital wing.
The moment she saw the floating Peter, Madam Pomfrey's brow furrowed deeply. "How on— Oh, very well." She gave up, waving her wand to begin examining Peter's body. Under her muttered commands, potion bottles from a nearby tray clinked and flew, pouring their contents down Peter's throat.
Lupin said, "I'm sorry, Madam Pomfrey."
Madam Pomfrey spared him a glance. Her frown deepened. "Mr. Lupin," she said sternly, "look at the state of you! Have you been eating properly?"
Lupin said gently, "I'm sorry, Madam."
"Go down to the hospital wing later and fetch some potions yourself," Madam Pomfrey ordered. "I assume you remember which ones?"
"Yes," Lupin said, a faint smile touching his lips. "Yes, Madam Pomfrey, I remember." His gaze shifted to Dumbledore, standing behind the desk.
Under the penetrating, gentle blue gaze, Anthony was surprised to hear Lupin's steady voice tremble for the first time. "Dumbledore…" he said. "Professor Dumbledore." He stopped.
Dumbledore smiled. "I believe I've said it once, but—welcome back, Remus. Please, find a seat."
When Professor McGonagall, eyes suspiciously red, left the office, Anthony quietly followed. Dumbledore glanced his way but did not stop him.
"Goodness, Henry," Professor McGonagall said, her voice slightly thick. "You startled me."
"I didn't feel it was my place to stay," Anthony explained.
They walked in silence for a while, until they ran into Peeves. "Gone! All gone!" Peeves zipped above their heads, making a chandelier swing and groan. "Murder most foul! Body disposed! McGonagall the Maniac!"
Anthony said, "Go away, Peeves."
Peeves did a somersault mid-air, singing, "Four came walking, one afloat! Two return, a curious note! Where, oh where, did the other two go?"
Professor McGonagall's face was stone. She drew her wand. "Body disposed! Murder most foul! Oh, McGonagall, you nasty cat!" Peeves howled as Anthony's Necromancy gripped him, dragging him with effort toward the corridor's end. "Help! Murder! Save a—save a ghost!"
Pop. He vanished.
Professor McGonagall calmly stowed her wand. They walked a little further, exiting the castle doors. "Was that you, Henry?" she asked suddenly. "That was neat. How'd you do it?"
Anthony glanced at her. "Necro—"
"Right," McGonagall said, sounding almost disappointed.
After a moment, she spoke again. "Henry." "Yes?" "In Azkaban… did you see Sirius Black?" she asked. "Black hair, grey eyes, about this tall." "I was only there one night," Anthony said. "And I was in the deepest cell. Pitch black… No, I didn't see Black."
Professor McGonagall looked surprised. "The deepest cell?" "Yes." "How odd. Where did they put Bellatrix Lestrange, then?"
Anthony thought back. "I think I remember them moving the original occupant to make space for me." He saw her expression and shrugged. "Don't look at me like that, Minerva. It's not like I requested the presidential suite."
The Black Lake wore a thin sheet of ice. A few pebbles could shatter it into crystal fragments that bobbed on the wind-kissed water near the shore.
A group of students were dueling with Roger Snakes, waving wands and hissing dramatically. The Roger Snakes wobbled their heads, emitting the smooth, sinister sounds of Parseltongue. "Lee Jordan," Professor McGonagall said, looking down at the student who had tripped and sprawled at their feet, tangled in snakes.
Jordan yelped, rolled over, and buried his face in the ground. "You've got the wrong wizard, Professor! I am a Parselmouth! Scion of Slytherin! Lee Slytherin!"
Professor McGonagall's lips pressed into a thin line. "Get up, Jordan," she said. "What is this?" Her stern gaze swept over the garish Roger Snakes adorning him.
Several students—sleeves or leaves over their faces, clutching their own snakes or tangled in Roger Snakes—darted past them. Anthony counted three Hufflepuffs, two Ravenclaws, five Gryffindors, and four or five whose houses he couldn't discern.
"If I said they were jelly snakes, would you believe me, Professor?" Lee Jordan sat up, testing the waters.
He brushed dirt off a Roger Snake, then pulled two very similar snake-like jelly candies from his pocket and stuffed them into his mouth.
He chewed thoughtfully, then declared, "Jelly snakes."
Professor McGonagall stared down at him severely, but Anthony swore a flicker of amusement crossed her tight expression. "Let it go, Minerva," Anthony said. "They're not on the banned list."
Professor McGonagall hesitated. Lee Jordan seized the chance, scrambled to his feet, yelled "Thanks, Professor!" and bolted.
"Jelly snakes!" Professor McGonagall said disapprovingly. "Find Davis's ordeal amusing? Madam Hooch had to change the rules because of it… If Davis finds out…"
"Minerva, Davis knows," Anthony said. "Davis is one of the developers. It's called a Roger Snake."
Professor McGonagall looked at him suspiciously. "You sound remarkably well-informed, Henry." "Well…" Anthony admitted. "I might have bought one."
They returned to the Headmaster's office near dinnertime. Madam Pomfrey had left. Peter was a trembling, boneless heap on the floor. Lupin sat in a nearby chair, face buried in his hands. Dumbledore stood over Peter, his tall frame casting a long shadow.
Anthony had never seen that look on his face before. "You will repeat before the Wizengamot what you have told me," Dumbledore commanded Peter. "You will repeat it in full, so that what was wrong may be righted, and the wrongly accused may be cleared."
Peter trembled on the floor. "I will… I will…" "You have played the rat for too long," Dumbledore said softly. Peter flinched violently. "Peter, this is your final chance. Contrition may yet make you a man again."
"I've always regretted…"
Lupin lifted his head, his voice ragged. "If you truly regretted it, you wouldn't have hidden!" He looked at Peter's obese form and gave a sorrowful, bitter laugh. "Your regret looks remarkably sweet."
A cold fire burned in Dumbledore's eyes. It flashed, then banked. He said nothing more, merely returning to his seat behind the desk. When he looked towards Professor McGonagall and Anthony at the door, his kindly expression had returned. "I have sent Fawkes with a message for Cornelius," he said. "Though a trial will take some time to arrange. I shall ensure it is as swift as possible. Until then, if you could ensure our witness and defendant do not escape via accomplished Transfiguration…"
"Of course," Professor McGonagall said immediately.
Dumbledore allowed a small smile. "Speaking of which, Minerva, you may be proud—or appalled. At least three of your former students became unregistered Animagi. I don't believe I can claim as many."
Professor McGonagall shot Peter a look of pure, stony disgust. "As for you, Henry, my thanks for your…" Dumbledore paused, "…fortuitous luck and hamster wheel."
Anthony smiled. "You're welcome."
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Working Overtime
Working late again. Glad I could finish the climax chapter for you all, though. Hope you get more sleep than I did! O_O
A BEDTIME STORY FOR THOSE WHO WAITED:
The night was quiet. Students out after curfew chose their paths with extreme caution. No echoing shouts from Filch, no slap of his running shoes on ancient stone.
Anthony woke from sleep. He pressed a hand to his chest. His heart thudded against his ribs, steady as a ticking clock pendulum.
The cat sat on his bedside table, peering down at him with concern. Its long whiskers tickled his face. Anthony touched the side of his neck. Found the expected set of fresh, slowly healing scratches.
"Thanks," he mumbled, rolling over to go back to sleep. A draft slipped through the slightly open window. The cat mewed and burrowed into the cold space under his blanket.
"You have your own bed…" Anthony said. From the cat bed across the room, the Wraith Mouse chirped a faint protest. "Fine."
The cat purred, rubbing against his chin. Anthony drifted back into sleep.
Elsewhere in the castle, under a Disillusionment Charm, Albus Dumbledore walked briskly down a moonlit corridor. In his pocket was a jar of Cockroach Clusters. He intended to swap them for the Chocolate Cream Balls in the staff room.
He wondered idly who would be the first to discover the Headmaster's office had a new password.
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