13th July 1995
Severus repressed the urge to squirm. He sat on the fourth tier of the Wizengamot beside Alastor waiting to be called to give evidence. Or rather waiting for the whole damned thing to actually start since they'd arrived early.
He ignored the stares and whispers around him but it was difficult and he took care to hide his mutilated hand out of sight. That it was still functional was a testament to the treatment he'd received – and he thanked Merlin every day that he would be able to brew – but the deep scarring would remain.
Alastor's presence was keeping anyone from approaching him at least. The Heirs of the Potter Alliance had settled for small nods of acknowledgement as they had taken their places on the bench; his colleagues from Hogwarts the same.
Severus found his gaze drawn back to the central floor. In addition to the usual Ministerial chairs, the seat of the Chief Witch – Griselda Marchbanks had been appointed in an emergency session the previous week – and the clerk's chair, there was a chair for witnesses. There was a table on the left for the prosecution with a corresponding table on the right the defence. In the middle of the floor was the accused's chair. Alastor had informed him that the chair had been spelled with security measures to ensure the accused would speak truthfully and could not escape or attack.
A soft swell of noise erupted from the public tier above them and Severus glanced automatically towards the door.
The Minister walked in with Black and Potter.
Immediately a thunderous applause rang out and everyone in the Wizengamot rose to their feet. Severus wanted to ignore Alastor's tug to rise but he got to his feet, wincing at the tremors and stiffness that still physically assailed him.
Shouts and whistles permeated the air.
Severus wasn't surprised when Black moved closer to Potter, a hand resting supportively on the boy's shoulder. For a moment, Potter looked nothing more than a fourteen year old boy who would rather be anywhere else but in an instant his expression changed and he lifted a hand.
Slowly silence descended.
"The Houses of Black and Potter thank you for the welcome." Potter said loudly. "But we couldn't have defeated Tom Riddle without a lot of help from our allies and from the Ministry."
Cornelius puffed up like a proud peacock beside the boy. Potter looked at Black.
"We should focus today on why we're here." Black seamlessly picked up as though they had rehearsed it. "There will be time for thanks, remembering those who sacrificed their lives, honouring all who fought, and celebrating our success once we have completed the trials."
"Well said, Lord Black." Cornelius said, with a firm look around the chamber.
Griselda rose from her new seat. "Everyone take your seats then so we can begin!"
Severus was grateful to sit back down. He belatedly realised the rest of the House of Black had entered with their Head of House and Heir as he watched them take up the remaining empty positions on the bench beside him.
Minerva sat down on Severus's left side and gave him a small smile. "Severus."
He inclined his head, his dark hair falling forward to almost hide him from the penetrative gaze of the Headmistress. She had visited him several times during his stay in Saint Mungo's; had reluctantly accepted his resignation but wished him well and encouraged him to stay in touch. Severus hadn't quite decided what it was that he wanted to do with the rest of his life – he had been so ready to die that he had been shocked to wake in the hospital. He had received an offer from the DOM by Croaker personally but…he wasn't certain he wanted to stay in Britain.
His eyes drifted to the Malfoy seat which was unoccupied.
The only Malfoy in attendance was Draco who sat on the bench some way down from Severus. Draco had taken a seat next to Theo Nott, the two boys seemingly under the supervision of Ted Tonks.
The same emergency session which had installed Marchbanks had also announced Andromeda Tonks would stand as the Regent of the House of Nott. The Malfoys however…
The paper the day before had carried an announcement of the birth of the Malfoy baby girl and Lucius's retirement from the Wizengamot on health grounds; the House of Black was appointed as proxy until Narcissa would be able to attend as Regent on behalf of Draco until he was of age. Lucius had apparently gone abroad for treatment for the injury he'd sustained but Severus firmly believed he'd never be seen again in Britain. The House of Black was ascendant and the rest of the Wizengamot knew it.
"Seal the doors!"
And the Wizengamot began.
Severus reflected that he hadn't actually attended a full session for a long time. His mother had brought him as a teenager determined that Severus should have an understanding of politics and the government who shaped their lives. He'd gone as a young man to support his friends who had been or thought to have been Heirs, especially Regulus. But…he had rarely stepped foot in the chamber since the tribunal which had declared him as a spy for Dumbledore at the end of the last war.
"This session of the Wizengamot has been called as a fully public trial for the accused known as Dennis Travers and Peter Pettigrew." Griselda announced. "The Wizengamot members will hear evidence from witnesses called by both prosecution and defence counsel. A vote will be taken to establish their guilt or innocence of the charges the prosecution has levied. If a guilty verdict is rendered, the Wizengamot will then debate and declare the sentencing." Griselda looked around the chamber. "Does anyone have any questions?"
There was silence.
"Let me also make one other thing clear," Griselda said brusquely, "this is a trial not a gladiatorial event. Any, and I mean, any heckling will have the idiot heckler removed from this chamber and barred for the rest of their lives. Do I make myself clear?"
There was a hurried chorus of agreement.
Griselda hummed and threw a look toward Dullard.
Dullard rose to his feet and cleared his throat noisily. "The Wizengamot calls the prosecution and the defence for Dennis Travers to the floor!"
Severus watched as Rufus Scrimgeour took the prosecution table along with a grim looking Malcolm Wood. Across from them, Barry Bootle and a younger witch from his office took the defence table.
"Bring in the accused, Dennis Travers!" Dullard called.
A small door appeared opposite the main chamber entrance; a chained Travers was marched in by two aurors who Severus recognised as the remaining members of the Rat Squad. He was placed immediately into the accused box.
"The prosecution will state the charges!" Dullard declared and sat down.
Scrimgeour got to his feet. "Dennis Travers is charged with the following crimes: belonging to a terrorist organisation known as the Death Eaters, also known as the Knights of Walpurgis; conspiracy to commit a terrorist act at the Quidditch World Cup; committal of a terrorist act at the Quidditch World Cup on twenty-fifth of August of the year nineteen-ninety-four; escaping from custody in September of the same year; conspiracy to commit terrorist acts in sabotaging the TriWizard Tournament in November, nineteen-ninety-four, February nineteen-ninety-five and June nineteen-ninety-five…"
Severus listened as Scrimgeour continued charging Travers with the actual acts of sabotage, murdering Karkaroff, the kidnapping of Potter, and finally the attack on Hogwarts and attempted murder of Alastor.
"How does the accused plead?" Dullard asked.
Bootle stood every inch the polished solicitor with his swept back blond hair and aristocratic manner. "My client pleads not guilty."
"So noted." Dullard gave Griselda a nod and sat down.
Griselda stood. "The prosecution may begin."
Severus took a deep breath. He would be called as a witness but not until the events at Hogwarts were tackled. In the interim he watched as the Scrimgeour showed the Dark Mark on Travers' arm, the evidence of the Death Eater paraphernalia he had carried at the World Cup and at Hogwarts. He moved on calling the aurors who had arrested Travers at the World Cup and a shaky looking Colin Summers gave evidence of the switch he had been forced to make. Bootle was able to show that Travers had had no knowledge of the escape attempt until it was in progress and had Summers admitting that Travers had potentially had as much choice as Summers in the matter.
Severus frowned as the evidence of the sabotage at the tournament was presented. It was the weakest part of the case and Bootle was able to present reasonable doubt that Travers had played any part, placing the blame wholly on Crouch.
"The prosecution calls Severus Snape!" Scrimgeour's gruff voice called out suddenly.
Severus gathered his robe and stood up. He made his way down to the witness chair slowly. He took the oath to speak truthfully and sat down with relief.
"The Wizengamot ruled in November nineteen-eighty-one that even though you bear the mark of a Death Eater that you were a spy for Albus Dumbledore and provided him with vital information which he passed onto the relevant authorities." Scrimgeour began. "When did you resume your spying duties?"
Severus waited until the rush of whispering died away.
"Following the events of the first task of the tournament." Severus stated clearly. "It was clear that the perpetrators were using the Durmstrang ship as their base with Igor Karkaroff's compliance, although there was not enough evidence at that time to search the ship. Lord Black requested that I approach Karkaroff to infiltrate into Riddle's circle once again and upon my acquiescence the Minister and Director Bones officially noted my status."
"What did you personally observe regarding the accused?" Scrimgeour asked.
"My main point of contact was Bartemius Crouch Junior." Severus explained. "He informed me that Travers had been the one to kill Karkaroff."
"The prosecution draws the Wizengamot's attention to the wand examination previously entered into evidence which shows the wand of Dennis Travers was used to kill Igor Karkaroff."
"Additionally," Severus continued once Scrimgeour turned back to him, "Riddle informed me that he had sent Travers abroad to purchase mercenaries and gather allies for when Riddle was resurrected."
Scrimgeour nodded. "The prosecution enters into evidence the summary veritaserum testimony of the mercenaries tried who stated or identified Dennis Travers as their recruiter." He motioned for Severus to continue as Wood passed the parchments to Dullard.
"Finally, I witnessed Dennis Travers at the gathering prior to the assault on Hogwarts at the headquarters of the Dark Lord." Severus finished.
"The prosecution enters into evidence magical forensic analysis of Riddle Manor which confirms Dennis Travers was present at the location." Scrimgeour gave a satisfied nod. "Thank you, Mister Snape."
Bootle rose to his feet and walked over to the witness box. "It is true, is it not, that the trial in 'eighty-one expunged all crimes you committed during the time you were an actual Death Eater and not just a spy?"
Severus barely managed not to grimace. "Yes." He said tersely.
"On the say-so of Albus Dumbledore." Bootle lifted his gaze to the section of the Wizengamot most opposed to the late wizard.
Severus glared at Bootle.
"Does the defence have a question or do you just want the opportunity to preen in front of an audience, Bootle?" Griselda asked bluntly.
Bootle jerked as though slapped but he quickly regrouped. "You never gave a full accounting to the court of your crimes in 'eighty-one, did you?"
"I did not." Severus said not denying it.
"Hmmm, and yet we're simply to believe your actions were on the side of the Light on the say-so of Albus Dumbledore." Bootle said crisply. "Tell me, Mister Snape, how was informing your Dark Lord of the prophecy and placing your childhood enemy James Potter and his family at risk an action for the Light?"
A horrified murmur ran around the chamber and Severus dared not look toward the Potter seat. He knew Black hadn't ever told Potter…he couldn't bear to look and see the horror and anger in those green eyes that were so like Lily's…
It was for the best, Severus determined; hadn't he already determined his future lay beyond Britain?
Scrimgeour got to his feet and was recognised by Griselda. "Objection. Whatever crimes Mister Snape committed were covered by his previous trial. We have plenty in this chamber who are in the same boat."
"And crimes committed now?" Bootle strode back to his desk and plucked a parchment from the table. "According to this, Mister Snape actively led Lord Black into an ambush at Yule where Lord Black suffered grievous injuries. He created the potion which resurrected Riddle and he performed the ritual which resurrected him, assaulting Lord Potter in the process!" He handed the document to Dullard. "Surely he should be brought to account for these!"
Bones got to her feet. "Both myself and the Minister provided a blanket permission for Mister Snape in his role as a spy. These acts were known by both us, Director Croaker and Lord Black and were part of the wider strategy to defeat Riddle."
Griselda nodded briskly. "Mister Snape is not on trial. Move on, Bootle."
Bootle looked as though he'd swallowed a lemon his expression was so sour but he returned to Severus. "Did you ever see the accused at Hogwarts or on the Durmstrang ship?"
"I did not." Severus said.
"Did you ever see the accused solicit mercenaries to be in the employ of Riddle?" Bootle continued.
"I did not." Severus admitted.
"Were any of the Death Eaters wearing masks when you entered the room in the manor?" Bootle asked bluntly.
Severus sighed and nodded before verbally responding with a terse yes.
"Yet you claim you saw the accused?" Bootle smiled like a shark scenting blood in the water.
"I recognised him even with the mask." Severus said tersely.
Bootle lifted an eyebrow. "The defence has no more questions of this…witness."
Severus was released and he slowly made his way up to the bench. He wasn't surprised at the looks of disgust aimed his way and he sat down next to Alastor and a surprisingly sympathetic looking Minerva with a heavy heart.
"I knew, lad." Alastor whispered under his breath.
"So did I." Minerva confirmed.
Their support shook Severus and he clamped down tightly on his emotions. He was barely aware as the trial concluded, as Travers was found guilty of the World Cup events, cleared of the tournament sabotage, and found guilty of attacking Hogwarts and Alastor. Travers was sentenced after a short swift debate to life imprisonment.
A recess was called and Severus allowed Alastor to hustle him into a small office.
"Stay here," Alastor ordered, "I'll send someone with a drink and something to eat for you."
Severus nodded uncaringly. He turned his attention to the small bookcase on the far side of the office and began to peruse its contents, desperately trying to keep his thoughts away from the events and disclosures of the trial.
He didn't turn at the sound of the door opening. "You may leave the refreshments on the desk." He ordered.
"Sorry," Potter's voice had Severus freezing into stillness, "no refreshments."
Severus turned slowly to face him. "I suppose not." His fingers twitched to draw his wand to protect himself but didn't he deserve this? To stand and allow Potter his revenge? "Does Black know you're here?"
Potter gave a small smile. "He knows. He's not happy about it but he knows." He paced a couple of steps before he stopped and once again met Severus's gaze. "He asked me, you know, back in the Summer, whether I wanted to know. I said no back then but I…" he sighed and pushed his hands deep in his pockets. "I figured it was either you or Lucius based on what was said. I figured it was easier not knowing which of you because I…I didn't want to know for certain and have to still be civil to you."
"And now?" Severus bit out.
"Why?" asked Potter bluntly with characteristic Gryffindor bravery. "Why did you tell Riddle the prophecy?"
"Because I was his at the time." Severus replied without any hesitation. "Because I was young and stupid and I wanted his attention and regard and this was…information; a way in." He saw how his words impacted Potter like sharp splinters of shrapnel. "It didn't matter who it was about or whether he would believe it, it was just words that might have won me some favour."
"And did it?" Potter shot back.
"Yes." Severus didn't deny it. "More so when he realised who the prophecy could be about." He grimaced. "He was aware of my former attachment to your mother." He raised his eyes to meet Potter's furious eyes, determined to be brave himself. "I regretted my action in telling him the instant she became a target. By the time I followed Riddle's directive to throw myself on the Headmaster's mercy under the pretence of being horrified at placing your mother in danger in order to become his spy at Hogwarts, it wasn't an act."
Not all of it.
"When he killed her…I would have stepped between them if I could have." Severus said.
"Aunt Minnie said you'd resigned." Potter's change of subject might have thrown most people but Severus knew what was at the heart of it.
"Yes." Severus agreed. "I only accepted the position to stay safe in the aftermath of the war and to be in place for your arrival. You've defeated Riddle; you don't need my protection as flimsy as it was and my oath died with the Headmaster."
There was silence for a long moment.
"I can't forgive you for painting a target on us." Potter said eventually. "Whether you would have protected her…your motivations for protecting me…none of it matters. But…you don't need my forgiveness and I doubt you want it, and really, you'll have to face my mother one day and make your excuses and apologies to her."
It was Severus's turn to feel shredded by shrapnel; to be left feeling raw and exposed, vulnerable.
"I…I appreciate everything you did to help defeat him." Potter continued. "You've spent a lot of time saving me over the past few years and during the ritual…I'll always be grateful to you for that; I made it through knowing you were there to help me so…" he dragged a hand through his messy hair. "But I don't…I can't be around you and since you won't be at Hogwarts...let's call it even and go our separate ways."
Severus breathed out slowly and gave a short nod. "I am planning to go abroad."
Potter frowned. "I thought you had a job offer from Bertie?"
"In the circumstances…" Severus began.
"You're going to turn it down because of this? Just…take the job." Potter said sharply. "You could do a lot of good with it. I doubt my mother would want you wasting your life." He grimaced. "Not that…it's not any of my business really."
"No," Severus agreed, "it's not."
Potter's eyes gleamed with something hot and angry for a moment. "Have a good life, Snape." He turned and made for the door.
"Potter." Severus stopped him before he stormed out. "I am deeply and sincerely sorry my actions led to the death of your mother," he paused, "and your father."
Potter turned and nodded, accepting the apology. He swept out without another word.
Severus pinched the bridge of his nose and finally acknowledged the stabbing pain above his left eye.
There was a knock on the door.
"Enter." Severus said briskly.
A timid looking witch opened the door with a tray of food balanced precariously in her other hand. She placed it on the desk and left him alone.
Alone.
Like always since he'd lost Lily's friendship and…
The door reopened and Alastor marched in, Croaker following him.
"Ah, good." Croaker smiled at him. "I was hoping we could speak about the job offer?"
Severus nodded understandingly. "You wish to rescind it after the revelations this morning."
"What? No," Croaker shook his head, the wild white strands bobbing frantically, "you're not the only spy I've dealt with and I dare say you won't be the last. I was hoping we could agree your start date." He gestured at the tray of food. "Why don't you eat while we talk? I wanted to bring you up to speed with some of our projects that I'm hoping to get you involved with."
A stunned Severus allowed himself to be chivvied into a seat and Alastor shoved the soup at him along with a headache potion.
"Eat up, lad." Alastor said gruffly. "Merlin knows your headache won't get better listening to Bertie."
Croaker slapped Alastor's arm. "Don't scare him away, Alastor! And besides…"
Severus tuned out their snarking as he turned his attention to his meal. Perhaps, he considered somewhat shakily, he wasn't as alone as he thought.
o-O-o
Sirius felt Harry start to tense and he eased away from the hug he'd pulled his son into as soon as Harry had entered Amelia's office.
"Alright?" Sirius asked, resisting the temptation to smooth back Harry's hair.
Harry nodded.
"I'm…"
"Don't apologise." Harry interrupted him sharply. "You asked me in the Summer and I said I didn't want to know. Bootle's a prick for announcing it like that in the trial."
"Well, that's true enough." Sirius said.
"He was always an odious little boy." Minerva agreed.
"How…" Remus let his voice fall away as though suddenly realising Harry might not want to answer the question.
"Snape's fine." Harry shrugged. "Shaken up, maybe? Moody was on his way in so…"
So at least Severus wasn't alone. Not that Sirius cared. Much.
He sighed. He and Severus had evolved a mutual grudging respect during the run-up to defeating Voldemort and, while Sirius would never forgive him for what he had done in the past, it didn't mean he was dancing with joy over the man's most dirty and painful laundry being aired for the world to see.
Bootle was a prick.
Harry had been stoic during the trial; pale after the revelation but stoic. It hadn't been until they'd gotten clear of the chamber that he'd insisted on seeing Severus. Still, the meeting seemed to have given Harry some peace and that was all that was important to Sirius.
Especially since the afternoon trial would focus on Peter.
Sirius felt Harry lean into him a touch and he glanced over at his son.
"We can get through this." Harry said quietly.
Sirius nodded. They would get through it. They were together; they could get through anything.
o-O-o
Peter tried hard not to look at anyone as he was led into the Wizengamot chamber. He kept his head down and stared at his feet. The urge to transform into his rat form was high but even if the charmed necklace he wore prevented it, he couldn't do it. Losing his hand had interfered with his animagus ability. The loss was a physical ache worse than his arm.
He allowed himself to be shuffled into the accused chair. It was then he glanced up at the chamber and saw Harry.
Harry, who had defeated the Dark Lord.
Peter swallowed hard and forced himself to pay attention.
"…with conspiracy to commit the murders of James and Lily Potter; with conspiracy to commit infanticide…"
Peter ducked his head. He stopped listening. He didn't want to hear the litany of the charges they were reciting. He knew them all. His solicitor Giles Dotts had gone through them with him the day before. It had been a depressing hour.
"How does the accused plead?"
Dotts rose from the defence table. "Guilty to all charges."
A rush of noise erupted from the public tier.
The Chief Witch raised her wand and set off a small bang to bring order to the chamber. "Enough." She looked at Peter with sharply assessing eyes. "You do understand, Mister Pettigrew, the consequences of pleading guilty?"
"I…I…I do." Peter stuttered out.
The witch looked from him to his solicitor.
"I have been through the possible sentences he may incur, Chief Witch, and he understands that he may be sentenced for the remainder of his life to Azkaban or face execution." Dotts said solemnly.
"Do you agree, Mister Pettigrew, that you fully understand the sentences that may be brought to bear once the chamber recognises your plea and ratifies that any further examination of the evidence is not required?" She pressed.
Peter nodded hurriedly. "I am guilty."
But deep down, he also believed that he had done enough to mitigate a death sentence. With the Dementors removed from Azkaban, he could live with a cell, a bed and a hot meal every day. It was more than he'd had once he'd gone in search of his master.
"I…I have a statement…" Peter began.
The witch held up her hand in a silent request for him to wait. "Head Auror, are you satisfied with the plea?"
Scrimgeour glared at Peter in a way that made Peter want to shrink back from him.
"I believe the evidence would speak for itself in this case." Scrimgeour said gruffly. "However, I also believe that his plea would save the Wizengamot valuable time and reduce the stress on potential witnesses. I am satisfied."
"Director Bones?" The witch turned to the Head of the DMLE. "Are you satisfied?"
Bones rose from her chair to respond. "I would support a motion to recognise and move to sentencing, Lady Marchbanks."
"Then that's what we'll do." Marchbanks said crisply. "All in favour, raise your wands."
Dullard, the clerk, rose soon after. "The vote is unanimous. The Wizengamot recognises the defendant has pled guilty and will move to sentencing."
"Head Auror," Marchbanks said turning back to Scrimgeour, "what is the recommendation of the prosecution?"
Scrimgeour got to his feet and tapped his finger against a piece of parchment. "The prosecution recommends execution for his crimes."
Peter felt his heart start to race; his mouth went dry. That wasn't supposed to happen! He didn't deserve death! He'd helped them!
"This is a wizard who betrayed his friends in the worst possible way. He conspired for months against them, providing information to the enemy. He was entrusted with a secret which he promptly gave to the enemy. He conspired to ensure their deaths and the death of their child. In the aftermath, he conspired to frame another friend for their murder and, while others also bear responsibility for the injustice, it led to an innocent man being imprisoned for over a decade." Scrimgeour recited.
"This is a man who hid himself as a rat for years until confronted by those he had betrayed. He ran again, this time to his master who he helped kill and torture an innocent child in the act of creating an homunculus. He helped Riddle and his cohorts kill Bertha Jorkins, Bartemius Crouch Senior, Janice Mickle, and countless others. He conspired to resurrect Riddle; to sabotage the TriWizard tournament, to kidnap Lord Potter and use him within a ritual; to kill Lord Potter and attack Hogwarts."
Scrimgeour glared at Peter again.
"This is the truth of the man; a cowardly rat who would stab his friends in the back and cut their throats in their sleep if it served him, yet turn around and try to wheedle his way into their good graces if he thought it would serve his best interests. He has no moral compass, no redeeming traits. He should face the harshest sentence we can bring to bear."
Peter watched as Scrimgeour took his seat. He glanced up towards Harry. Harry's gaze seem directed above Peter's head and Peter realised that Harry was looking at Sirius. Peter didn't dare look towards Padfoot.
"Mister Pettigrew," Marchbanks called for his attention, "you said you had a statement? Now would be the time to read it."
Peter nodded hurriedly and gestured at his solicitor who passed him the parchment. He smoothed it out and cleared his throat.
"I…" Peter lowered the parchment, turning it over to hide the words. It was too trite; too rote. He cleared his throat a second time. "When I was eleven I sat on a stool and placed the Sorting Hat on my head to determine my house at Hogwarts. I thought I'd end up in Slytherin or Hufflepuff. My father's family had been the ones to secure my place there and they had been Hufflepuffs. But my mother was an ambitious woman who married well and who raised me to believe survival in life was paramount."
He didn't look up at the faces. He kept his eyes on his hands, still cuffed and clasped in front of him, resting on the discarded parchment.
"It was a shock to be sorted into Gryffindor. I didn't think I was particularly brave or courageous in nature." Peter continued. "The Hat told me I would find my courage there." He swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry. "And I did. I found my courage in the friendship with three other wonderful boys. Together we seemed invincible." He paused, lifting his eyes for the first time but staring sightlessly into the past, oblivious to the people around him. "Then we left school and we went our separate ways. Well, Moony and I…we went into different things. I ended up at the Ministry."
In hindsight, he wished he'd taken on McGonagall's remonstrations to smarten up his academics; he might have made it into the Hit Wizard programme if he had.
"My first supervisor was Dennis Travers Senior. He was a Death Eater and he…he intimidated me into joining." Peter babbled out. "I should have told someone when he approached me but I was scared and alone and…it was easier to go along with him, easier to say yes to the Dark Lord than say no and be killed or tortured! I was a coward but then I didn't think of it as betraying them. As a spy I helped save my friends and kept them out of the line of fire."
There was a murmur, a rush of whispering that pulled Peter from the past. He shook himself a touch.
"Then came the prophecy and the secret and…I was weak." Peter admitted. "I should have refused to tell the Dark Lord where James and Lily were; I should have stood up for my friends as they would have stood for me. Or as Sirius said to me when we faced each other last year, I should have died for them as they would have died for me." He paused, the silence of the room loud in his ears; condemning. "But I…I just wanted to survive; just survive. And so I led the Dark Lord to James and Lily, and when Harry hurt him, I framed Sirius to prevent him from arresting me. I hid away and when I was finally found out, I ran back to the Dark Lord and I helped resurrect him; helped commit crimes to help him. Because I wanted to survive. It's pathetic and cowardly and yet, it's all the excuse I have."
He gave a sad short laugh. "The only time I found my courage again was standing beside Moony in the corridor at Hogwarts facing down the mercenaries and vampires as though they were a group of Slytherins and we were once again school-children. Because that's where my courage always was; right beside them and I forgot that."
Peter paused for a breath. "I think I helped save Moony. I think I helped there at the end. Maybe…one last act isn't enough to make up for everything else. All I know is that I don't want to die."
His fingers tightened on the parchment and crumpled it.
"That's…that's all I have."
There was complete silence.
"Does anyone wish to debate?" Marchbanks asked, her question dropping like a stone into the tension.
Ogden raised his wand. "This is difficult." He said. "We all know that Pettigrew's crimes are far-reaching and wide in their impact and their atrocity, yet…" he sighed heavily and looked over at Sirius. "I don't believe I'm the only one, Lord Black, who feels that the only people in this room who should have the right to determine Pettigrew's fate are you, your son and your steward. You and Lord Potter's parents were his friends and he betrayed you. There is no sharper knife in your back; no deadlier poison to counter than that of an enemy who wears the face of a friend and who lies unknown at the heart of your family. I feel utterly unqualified to make any kind of judgement without knowing for certain which action would bring you the most sense of justice." He held up a hand. "I know that it's unfair of me to ask but I…I will ask anyway and hope you forgive me."
Augusta Longbottom raised her wand. "I too regret placing this burden on Lord Black, but I feel the same."
A third wand went up.
Marchbanks raised her hand and turned to Sirius. "Lord Black? It is not unusual in these cases for the Wizengamot to request the opinion of those most affected by the crimes of the perpetrator."
Sirius's gaze went first across the chamber and Peter ducked his head to hide from the intense look his old friend exchanged with Harry.
There was a rustle of fabric and Peter looked up again in time to see Sirius rise from his chair.
"I appreciate the sensitivity here and the opportunity to speak." Sirius began. "As much as we don't like to say the words," he glanced back to Harry, "we are victims of Pettigrew's crimes; his decisions and actions. He betrayed us and took away the people we loved the most. He ran from facing the consequences of his actions and I ended up in Azkaban, and when he ran a second time, he ran straight to his master and set in motion a chain of events where more and more people were killed or hurt. But this is about more than myself and Harry; more than myself and Remus Lupin. Were Pettigrew's acts against us the worst crimes? I'm not sure the parents of the child he kidnapped for Riddle to live in would say that." He shook his head. "Are any of us truly qualified to render judgement on such a heinous act?"
A wand was raised and Marchbanks recognised the wizard who stood as Sirius sat.
"Lord Black raises a good point." Selwyn pinned Peter with a contemptuous look. "The actions of Peter Pettigrew are wider than himself and Lord Potter. He had a devastating impact on the wizarding world in the actions he took. We should not shirk our duty to sit in judgement upon him. But one could argue that we are all too affected by Pettigrew's actions to be objective. There is practically no-one in the wizarding world who isn't." He gestured towards the Chief Witch, "With that said, I do not believe we are the right body to sit in judgement, and if I may I have a suggestion for a third option to those of execution and life imprisonment?"
Marchbanks lifted an eyebrow but nodded.
"Pettigrew broke oath." Selwyn said bluntly. "I suggest we vote for the family magic of us sitting in this body to sit in judgement upon Pettigrew. Let Magic itself render Judgement." He sat down.
There was a stirring of whispers and Peter's heart sank. He squirmed in his chair, uneasy and uncertain of which way he wanted the vote to go.
Marchbanks stood up, capturing everyone's attention. "This is a difficult. You have all spoken with sincerity and honesty. I personally feel Lord Selwyn's suggestion has merit. I can call Judgement if this is what is required. I call for a vote; those who wish to enact Lord Selwyn's motion raise your wands."
The wands went up.
Peter's heart beat wildly in his chest.
Dullard counted the wands and turned to the Chief Witch. "The motion is carried. Judgement will be rendered."
A babble of noise broke out and Peter lowered his gaze, sick to his stomach with fear. The Lestranges had lost their lives; was that to be his fate?
Marchbanks hushed the crowd and turned to him. "Peter Pettigrew, you have pled guilty to your many crimes. We ask Magic to call Judgement upon you so you may face justice. Familius magicus animus!"
The Marchbanks' avatar, a gold hare, shimmered into view; sparkling with gold. It stood on its hind legs sniffed the air and jumped – changing into a stream of gold magic which rushed upwards and out toward Harry.
Peter wondered at it for a long moment but he registered Sirius's hurried stand even as Harry rose to greet the Hare as it reformed and bowed to the griffin sitting at Harry's feet.
The gold griffin shifted and there was an audible gasp as the griffin disappeared and the form of a man took its place; James.
The gold spirit of James Potter reached out and cupped his son's cheek. "We're so proud of you, Harry." He glanced at the silver Black snake and at the hare. "Guard my son."
The avatars bowed to James.
The spirit turned to the Wizengamot, his eyes only seeking one wizard. "Padfoot."
Peter reluctantly dragged his attention away from James to look back at Sirius. He was pale – his features etched with grief and loss.
"Prongs." Sirius murmured, the rough word echoing across the chamber.
James looked over then to where Moony sat in the family tier; amber eyes bright. "Moony." He gestured with his head. "Join me and Pads on the floor." And a moment later he transformed into a stream of gold magic and rushed down to the centre.
Peter pressed back into his chair as the magic gathered in front of him – a whirlwind of gold. It settled back into James's familiar form. "Prongs…"
"You don't get to call me that, Wormtail." James replied immediately as he turned impatiently to see where Padfoot and Moony were at.
The other two Marauders finally reached them.
James reached out to Moony first, a hand clasped onto his friend's shoulder. "You always did get the difficult jobs and I've left you the most difficult of all; keeping Pads out of trouble."
Moony laughed and reached up to pat James's shoulder. "I miss you, Prongs." He shook his head. "And you'd be just as bad if you were here. You always got each other in trouble after all."
James smiled; the same wonderfully warm smile he'd used to give Peter. "Look after them, Moony."
Moony nodded.
James turned to Sirius next and the pain on both their faces was heart-wrenching. Peter could barely look as James reached out and enfolded Sirius into a hug; as Sirius melted into the ethereal embrace.
"My brother." James murmured lowly, but it wasn't low enough and Peter saw its impact as it travelled to the rest of the chamber in the bright eyes and quiet sniffs.
It was a long moment before they stepped away from each other, exchanging a silent look of communication which Peter remembered all too well from school and which never boded well for the target of their ire. They looked over in unison to Remus and something was determined; an action, a decision – Peter's fate.
The three Marauders turned to face him and the years, where they were, why they were there bled away until all that remained in Peter's eyes were his three friends, accusatory looks levelled at him; no, levelled at Wormtail.
"Wormtail." Prongs began. "As a wizard and a Marauder, you are hereby Judged as Oathbreaker and given to the Marauders for justice." He lifted his hand and inside of it was a gold rat. "Your animagus ability. The act that bound us together as brothers."
"I thought that was the pranks, Prongs." Padfoot said laconically beside him.
"I thought it was the bottles of whiskey." Moony countered.
Prongs shot them both a look.
Wormtail tried hard not to hyperventilate but he was barely breathing. He realised absently he couldn't feel the suppression necklace he had been wearing.
"Magic casts you out," Prongs intoned clearly, "but for this last act, one last prank from the Marauders."
Moony smiled wolfishly. "You hid as a rat and now you will live as a rat."
"Only as a rat." Padfoot stressed with a smirk. "No magic to change back into a wizard; just a rat for all the rest of your days."
"With the lifespan of a rat." Prongs agreed.
"What is that again, Moony?" Padfoot tilted his head.
"Two to three years." Moony responded cheerfully. "Unless a cat gets him or a snake."
Wormtail shuddered. "Please, please, please?" He begged. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry for everything but I was scared!" Tears escaped and ran down his face; snot gathered and dripped from his nose as he sobbed.
His three friends looked at him stonily unmoved.
"You were once a Marauder; a friend we trusted before all others with blood and spirit and magic." Prongs stated evenly. "You are a Marauder no more, Wormtail. All you are is a rat, Oathbreaker."
Wormtail felt the magic starting to crawl over his skin. "NO! NO! Moony! Please?! Didn't I help you?"
"You were once a Marauder and so for every time this past year you have helped us truly in the spirit of a Marauder with blood and spirit and magic, you'll live another year." Moony smiled, amber eyes glowing as he smiled wolfishly. "You are a Marauder no more, Wormtail. All you are is a rat, Oathbreaker."
Wormtail felt the magic press in on him, tingles on the ends of his fingers and in his scalp. He turned to Padfoot, helpless and already knowing he would find no mercy there.
"You were once a Marauder but you drove a dagger into the spirit and magic of us and left us only blood." Padfoot replied a harsh edge of anger colouring his voice. "You are a Marauder no more, Wormtail. All you are is a rat, Oathbreaker."
"Judgement is served." Prongs intoned gently. He smiled sadly at the others. "Mischief managed."
The form fell into a million gold sparkles and reformed as the Potter griffin.
And the pain hit Wormtail and the world disappeared…
Peter came to; he was panting, surrounded by material. He scrabbled his way up into air, hurrying, hurrying…
An invisible force reached down and plucked him up, levitating him above his clothes and the chair where he'd been sat.
Scrimgeour's florid face appeared in front of him. "Don't worry, Rat. You'll have a nice cage waiting for you in Azkaban."
He shook in his rat form, terrified and vulnerable. He could feel the absence of his magic like a yawning chasm in the centre of his body. He couldn't change! He was trapped, trapped, trapped…
It was over.
He was a Marauder no more.