Chapter 557: Only One Can Survive
The scene before him was so surreal that Ron's mind felt like it was being
pulled in a thousand different directions at once.
One voice screamed that this was Scabbers—his pet, his loyal companion of
several years. This was the rat that had heroically lunged at Malfoy and his
cronies on the train!
But another voice, cold and rational, whispered that what the gaunt man said was
likely the truth. How could a common garden rat live for twelve years? And then
there was the missing toe.
What are the odds of such a coincidence? Ron thought, swallowing hard.
"What do I have to do?" he asked, looking tentatively at Sean.
"Hand Scabbers over to me. The new Magic Hand Mirror has a recording function;
we'll catch his human form on 'film.' As for Mr. Black's innocence... the Daily
Prophet will be forced to print the truth soon enough," Sean said.
The latest version of the Hand Mirror included a "Visual Log" feature. A wizard
could record a few minutes of magical activity and upload it to the M-Net for
others to see. It was a restricted feature—recordings only lasted a week—and the
prototype was currently only in Sean's hands.
"Human form?"
Ron felt a wave of nausea. He hadn't fully processed the concept. When they said
Scabbers was Peter Pettigrew, his brain had focused on the name and ignored the
biological impossibility. But now, the reality was sinking in.
"No... Peter... how could he... Sean, I trust you, I really do. But... how?"
Ron's face was beet-red, the words catching in his throat.
"How did Pettigrew become a rat?" Sean anticipated the question and gave a slow
nod.
Under Ron's horrified gaze, the skeletal man in the corner suddenly blurred. In
the blink of an eye, he transformed into a massive, shaggy black dog. Ron's eyes
nearly bulged out of his head. This was the same dog they had seen outside the
Leaky Cauldron!
"He is an Animagus," the dog's form shifted back into the weary wizard. "An
unregistered one. Just like Pettigrew."
Ron finally broke. He collapsed into a nearby chair, looking utterly defeated.
"I let him sleep in my bed..." Ron whispered, his voice cracking.
"Look on the bright side, Ron," Sean offered.
"What bright side?"
"At least, as Voldemort's lapdog, he didn't decide to slit your throat in your
sleep," Sirius added "gently."
Ron went white as a sheet.
Thirty minutes later, in the corridor.
"Is there anything else?" Ron asked, his expression sour. He felt as though
Pettigrew's existence in his pocket was a personal insult to his character.
"After the final bell, we meet at the castle gates. I'll take Pettigrew then,"
Sean said simply. "By the way, where's Harry?"
"Still at Quidditch practice, I expect," Ron replied. "He hasn't been spending
much time on the pitch lately, not since we started the... well, the Auror
training."
Sean looked out the window at the distant horizon. The Scottish weather was
performing its usual gymnastics; a clear blue sky was rapidly being consumed by
heavy, churning grey clouds.
Snowy swooped down from the battlements, landing gracefully on Sean's finger.
"Tell Harry I've brought him. Meet at the gates after the final class."
Snowy nipped Sean's hand affectionately and took flight. Though the M-Net was
the primary way wizards communicated now, Sean still preferred the weight of a
physical letter for certain messages.
The owl's wings sliced through the gathering storm. Above the clouds, the sun
was still shining, but below, the Quidditch pitch was a scene of muddy,
miserable determination.
Harry was hovering on his broom, his mind miles away from the Golden Snitch. He
watched as Oliver Wood gathered the team to deliver some bad news.
"We aren't playing Slytherin anymore!" Wood barked, looking ready to bite
through his broom handle. "Flint just caught me. We're playing Hufflepuff
instead. Our second match will be Ravenclaw versus Hufflepuff."
"Why?" the team asked in unison. Harry barely listened.
"Flint claims one of their Beaters has a bum arm," Wood spat, his jaw set tight.
"It's a load of rubbish. They just don't want to play in this weather. They
think it'll hurt their chances of a clean sweep."
Thunder rumbled in the distance, punctuating Wood's anger.
"They're faking it! Dirty tactics!"
"He is actually injured," Wood admitted begrudgingly. "But we've been training
specifically for Slytherin's aggressive style. Hufflepuff is a different beast
entirely. They've got a new Captain and Seeker—Cedric Diggory."
Angelina Johnson, Alicia Spinnet, and Katie Bell suddenly burst into giggles.
"What's so funny?" Wood demanded, scowling at the lack of professional focus.
"He's that tall, handsome one, isn't he?" Angelina said.
"Strong, silent type," Katie added, the three of them dissolving into another
fit of laughter. "Just like Mr. Green. Oh, I am definitely not missing that
match."
"You're comparing Diggory to the Great Green?!" Fred Weasley looked offended.
"Diggory is 'silent' because he's too thick to string a sentence together!"
The girls glared at Fred, but they didn't argue with his second point. In the
hierarchy of Hogwarts legends, Sean Green stood alone on the pedestal.
"The Future's Greatest Wizard," "The Destined Legend," "The One Who Will Surpass
Dumbledore..."
It was hard for them to believe they were attending school with such a figure.
From his first day, Sean had been extraordinary. He had tackled a mountain
troll, defeated a werewolf bare-handed, and stolen a dragon egg from right under
a mother's nose.
Rumor had it that half the girls in the castle were in love with Mr. Green. The
other half just hadn't met him yet.
Harry tuned out the chatter. He had been in a daze since the trip to Hogsmeade.
He only looked up when he heard the name Green.
His mouth fell open as a white owl swooped down, unceremoniously dropping a
letter onto his shoulder. He snapped out of his trance and tore the envelope
open.
After a few seconds of reading, the blood drained from his face. He stood
motionless for a long time before his lips curled into a manic, shaking grin.
"What's up with him?" Fred asked.
"Oh, I know that look," Angelina said, watching Harry with envy.
"What?" George asked.
"If I got a handwritten letter from Mr. Green... Merlin's beard..." Angelina
flushed slightly.
Fred and George exchanged a look and nodded in total agreement. "I'd pass out,"
Fred said. "I'd die of joy," George added with a wink.
Harry didn't hear them. He was already thinking about his final class of the
day: Divination.
Things went south almost immediately in the North Tower.
Professor Trelawney was in a state of high agitation, insisting that the
students produce their own "original" prophecies. She spent the entire hour
hovering over Harry and Ron, clearly unsatisfied with their lackluster attempts
at seeing the beyond.
Only Sean was left alone. She had given him a "special assignment," treating him
like a visiting scholar rather than a student. Whenever Sean scribbled a note,
Trelawney would lean over and whisper:
"Yes!" "Exactly!" "A magnificent resonance!"
Harry and Ron were convinced that if Sean predicted Trelawney would be struck by
a falling star tomorrow, she would spend the next twenty-four hours hiding in a
reinforced cupboard.
"I've got it! We just need to give her what she wants!" Harry whispered to a
miserable-looking Ron.
He shared his plan, and Ron's eyes brightened. They spent the next twenty
minutes predicting their own gruesome, spectacular deaths. Trelawney was
delighted.
However, her mood soured quickly when she began explaining how tea leaves
interfered with daily chores. The boys were clearly not paying attention.
"I believe," she said, her voice dropping to a mysterious, vibrating whisper
that didn't hide her irritation, "that some among us..." she glared pointedly at
Harry and Ron, "...would not be so dismissive if they had seen what I saw in the
fire last night."
She leaned closer. "I sat here, working on my needlepoint, when an
uncontrollable urge took me. I consulted the Crystal Orb. Tell me... what do you
think I saw staring back at me?"
"An ugly old bat in oversized glasses?" Ron muttered under his breath.
Harry fought with everything he had to keep from laughing. He nudged Sean,
trying to share the burden of the joke, but Sean remained perfectly
composed—though a tiny glint of amusement danced in his green eyes.
"It was Death, my dear."
Parvati and Lavender both squeaked, clutching their mouths in terror.
"Yes," Trelawney nodded solemnly. "It is coming. Circling like a vulture above
the towers of this castle... sinking lower... and lower..." She fixed a piercing
stare on Harry.
"If I actually died every time she said I was going to, I'd be a medical
miracle," Harry whispered once her back was turned.
"You'd be a concentrated ghost," Ron agreed. "Getting more potent with every
death."
Finally, the bell rang.
Sean looked at Ron and Harry. Both boys met his gaze. In Harry's eyes, there was
a mix of confusion and simmering rage. In Ron's, there was only pure,
unadulterated panic.
As the other students filed out, the three of them lingered at the back.
Suddenly, Professor Trelawney's head dropped onto her chest. A strange, gurgling
sound emerged from her throat.
Sean's eyes widened with a flash of realization. He knew this moment. Trelawney
had predicted Pettigrew's escape in the original timeline—but now, the prophecy
was coming early.
"What's wrong with her?" Harry and Ron whispered, backing away.
Trelawney spoke. Her voice was harsh and grating, sounding nothing like her
usual airy tone.
"The Dark Lord lies alone and friendless, abandoned by his followers. His
servant has been shackled these twelve years. Tonight, before midnight... the
servant shall break free and set out to rejoin his master. Though he remains in
chains, the Dark Lord shall rise again with his servant's aid, greater and more
terrible than ever before... more cunning... the battle between them must begin,
for neither can live while the other survives... neither... can... live..."
Trelawney snapped upright, making Harry and Ron jump. Sean remained still,
processing the implications.
She looked at them and blinked behind her thick lenses. "Is something wrong, my
dears?"
"You—you just said the Dark Lord was coming back!" Harry gasped. "You said his
servant was returning!"
Trelawney looked shocked. "The Dark Lord? He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named? My dear boy,
that is no joking matter... returning? Heavens—"
"But you just said it!" Ron cried.
"I suspect you've fallen asleep in the heat, dear!" Trelawney said airily. "I
would never predict something so sensational!"
Harry and Ron stared at her. Is she a goldfish? Harry wondered.
"It's time," Sean said suddenly.
The two boys shivered. They followed Sean out of the attic and down the
spiraling stairs. By the time they reached the castle gates, the sun had
vanished, and a heavy, enchanted darkness had settled over the grounds.
Sean raised his wand. A soft, golden light illuminated a massive, gnarled trunk
ahead of them. They had reached the Whomping Willow.
"Through the tree, Harry. Through the secret passage. In the room at the end,
you will find everything you seek," Sean said.
In his hand, Sean held a small, enchanted cage. Inside sat a rat, currently deep
in a chemically induced slumber from a bottle of Dreamless Sleep.
Ron had already retreated back toward the castle, too shaken to watch the next
part.
Harry looked at Sean's silhouette in the wandlight. The thrashing branches of
the Willow seemed to be mocking his internal turmoil.
"I understand," Harry said.
He raised his own wand, the tip glowing white, and began his walk toward the
tree.
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