49 Two-Faced Men

Percy Weasley felt like the ground had been ripped out from under his feet as he stood frozen, his gaze locked on the disheveled, rat-like man sprawled before Dumbledore. He struggled to make sense of the impossible sight that had happened right before his very own eyes.

Scabbers – the very same mangy rat he had doted on and cared for since he was a young lad – had transformed into a full-grown human being, shedding his furry exterior like a second skin. The creature Percy had cuddled, fed, and even allowed to share his bed had been an Animagus all along, a wizard with the incredible ability to take on an animal form.

A sour taste flooded Percy's mouth, the weight of this knowledge hitting him like a bludger to the gut. He doubled over, retching violently as the contents of his stomach spewed forth in a wet, gurgling torrent, splattering onto the cold stone floor of the Great Hall.

Through the haze of his distress, he felt a steadying hand grip his shoulder – Oliver Wood, his friend and fellow Gryffindor, offering what little comfort he could muster. "Easy there, Perce," Oliver murmured with concern as he gave Percy's shoulder a gentle squeeze. "Just breathe, mate. Nice and slow."

Percy shook his head while his body continued trembling as another surge of bile threatened to escape. "Scabbers..." he choked out. "That man...he was my pet rat..."

Oliver's eyes widened, realization dawning across his features as the implication of Percy's words sank in. A look of revulsion became clear on his face, and for a moment, Percy feared his friend might join him in emptying the contents of his stomach onto the floor.

But Oliver simply tightened his grip, grounding Percy amidst the distress that threatened to overwhelm him. "Blimey," he breathed in disgust. "An Animagus? And you've had him since you were a nipper?"

Percy could only nod as his gaze was drawn back to the man – the Animagus – who lay prone before Dumbledore. The headmaster's wand remained steadily leveled, his expression unreadable as he regarded the intruder with a steely, unblinking stare.

Whispers spread from the Gryffindor table to the rest of the Great Hall as the news reached all of the students and staff. Percy caught snatches of their hushed conversations, revulsion clear in their voices.

"...a bloody rat, all this time..."

"...how in Merlin's name is that even possible..."

"...could have been living among us for years, the slimy git..."

The tremors wracking Percy's frame intensified as the full weight of the situation crashed down upon him like a Manticore sat straight down on his body. He had shared his home, his bed, with this stranger – this imposter – for over a decade, never once suspecting the truth that had been lurking beneath his very nose, concealed in the guise of a beloved pet.

A fresh wave of nausea threatened to overwhelm him, but he fought it back with every ounce of his willpower, gritting his teeth as he struggled to regain his composure. He was a Prefect, a leader among his peers, and he would not allow himself to fall apart, not here, not in front of the entire school.

Across the hall, Severus Snape's voice cut through the din like a well-honed blade, cold and sneering as he regarded the cowering figure on the floor with undisguised contempt. "Pettigrew," the Potions Master spat, his lip curling in a sneer that exposed a hint of yellowed teeth. "So, the rumors of your demise were greatly exaggerated."

Percy's brow furrowed as he processed Snape's words as his mind dredged up long-buried memories from the depths of his childhood. Pettigrew...the name rang a distant bell, conjuring half-forgotten whispers of a man, a friend of his parents, who had been killed during the war against You-Know-Who.

But even as the pieces began to fall into place, a thousand new questions bloomed in their wake, each more confounding than the last. How could this man, this Pettigrew, be the same person who had supposedly perished all those years ago? And what dark secret had he been hiding, concealed in the form of a simple rat for over a decade, burrowing his way into the heart of the Weasley family?

Snape's harsh words quickly spread through the crowd, causing a stir among both students and staff. Everyone was shocked and worried, and the atmosphere grew tense as fear and rumors started to spread. Percy felt the growing unease in the air, which felt thick and suffocating.

Dumbledore, on the other hand, stayed calm amid the chaos. His demeanor exuded a natural authority that demanded respect and attention. With a simple hand gesture, he brought the entire Great Hall to silence. Now, every gaze was locked on the drama.

"Peter Pettigrew," the headmaster intoned as he regarded the cowering man with a piercing gaze. "You were believed to have died when Sirius Black attacked you. Now I wonder if something else was going on..."

Pettigrew flinched while his eyes darted wildly as he sought an escape, a way to flee from Dumbledore's penetrating stare. But the headmaster was relentless, his wand never wavering as he pinned the man in place with the sheer force of his presence.

"You will speak, Peter," Dumbledore commanded, his tone brooking no argument. "You will tell us how you came to be here, and what dark purpose has driven you to infiltrate these hallowed halls."

For a long moment, Pettigrew remained silent with a heaving chest as he fought against the invisible bonds that held him captive. But then, as if compelled by some unseen force, his lips parted, and the words began to tumble forth in a rush, spilling from his mouth like water from a burst dam.

"The Dark Lord..." he rasped while trembling in fear. "He...he commanded me...to kill the boy..."

"Harry Potter," the headmaster whispered, and Percy felt a chill run down his spine at the weight of those two simple words. "Voldemort sought to finish what he began all those years ago, when he failed to snuff out the life of an innocent child."

Dumbledore looked down at the quivering man. "Tell us, Peter," he said coldly. "Tell us what happened the night the Potters died, and how you were involved in betraying them."

Pettigrew cringed back, shaking his head frantically. "No..." he croaked, his voice barely a whisper. "Please...I didn't...I couldn't..."

But Dumbledore wouldn't let up. He kept his wand pointed straight at Pettigrew while his eyes saw through every lie the man tried to tell.

"No more lies, Peter," the headmaster said firmly. "No more hiding from the truth. You've been a coward for far too long. But today, you will face what you've done, and everyone will know how you betrayed your friends."

Pettigrew seemed to shrink under Dumbledore's gaze. He glanced around wildly as if looking for an escape, but there was none to be found. Every eye in the Great Hall was fixed upon him, waiting with bated breath for his confession.

"I...I didn't mean for it to happen," he whimpered. "The Dark Lord...he promised me power, glory. He said I would be rewarded beyond my wildest dreams if I helped him."

A collective gasp erupted through the room at his words. Percy felt his cheeks growing red from anger. How could anyone betray their friends like that, and for what? Empty promises from a madman?

Dumbledore's expression hardened. "And so you told him where the Potters were hiding," he shook his head disappointedly. "You betrayed their trust, and in doing so, condemned them to death."

Pettigrew let out a choked sob as his shoulders shook. "I didn't know!" he cried. "I swear, I didn't know he would kill them! I thought...I thought he just wanted the boy..."

At the mention of Harry, Percy's gaze snapped to the Hufflepuff table where the young boy sat with green eyes wide with shock and confusion. He couldn't even begin to imagine what must be going through Harry's mind right now, learning that the man responsible for his parents' deaths was in front of him.

Dumbledore shook his head sadly. "Your ignorance does not absolve you of guilt, Peter," he said. "You chose to align yourself with Voldemort, and in doing so, you share in the blame for every life he took, every family he destroyed."

Pettigrew seemed to crumple under the weight of Dumbledore's words. He slumped to the floor with his face buried in his hands as he wept openly. "I'm sorry," he moaned. "I'm so sorry...I was weak...I was afraid..."

But his apologies fell on deaf ears. The damage had been done, the truth revealed for all to see. Peter Pettigrew, the man they had all believed to be a hero, a martyr, was nothing more than a sniveling coward who had betrayed his closest friends for the promise of power.

While the teachers moved to take Pettigrew into custody, Percy felt completely exhausted. The events of the past few minutes had left him drained, both physically and emotionally. He slumped over the table with his hands on his head.

"I can't believe it," he muttered hoarsely. "All this time...he was right there, under our noses..."

Oliver nodded grimly. "It's like something out of a nightmare," he agreed. "To think, we've been living with a traitor, a murderer..."

Percy shuddered at the thought. He knew he would never be able to look at a rat the same way again, not after this. The very idea of having one as a pet now filled him with revulsion.

When Pettigrew was led away, his head bowed and his shoulders shaking with sobs, Percy couldn't help but wonder what would happen next. With You-Know-Who's return on the first day and now this on the second day, it felt like the disturbing events at Hogwarts would never end….

The students began to disperse, talking in hushed, fearful whispers, but Percy caught sight of Harry Potter once more. The boy seemed composed, but Percy knew that that must be because of the shock of the events. His friends were comforting him, so he hoped that he didn't take this too badly.

oo0ooOoo0oo

Lucius Malfoy apparated into the Atrium of the Ministry of Magic as his dragonhide boots clicked against the polished dark wood floor. He straightened his black velvet cloak, embroidered with silver thread, and adjusted the silver snake head of his cane. Around him, witches and wizards hurried to and fro, their robes swishing, memos zooming overhead like paper airplanes.

He strode past the golden fountain, statues of a wizard, witch, centaur, goblin, and house-elf spouting water into the pool. The peacock blue ceiling was inlaid with gleaming golden symbols that kept moving and changing. Lucius approached the security desk, where a badly-shaven wizard in peacock blue robes looked up.

"Wand," grunted the security wizard, holding out his hand.

Lucius handed over his wand. The security wizard dropped it onto a brass instrument, which vibrated and spit out a narrow strip of parchment.

"Eleven inches, elm, dragon heartstring core, been in use twenty-four years. That correct?"

Lucius nodded curtly, taking back his wand and tucking it into his snake-headed cane. He stepped into a lift and the golden grilles slid shut with a crash. The lift clattered upwards, chains rattling, as a cool female voice announced each level.

"Level Seven, Department of Magical Games and Sports..."

Memos fluttered around the lamp in the ceiling as the lift juddered upward again.

"Level Six, Department of Magical Transport..."

The lift doors opened, and Lucius stepped off into a long hallway with rough stone walls and torches in brackets. Passing by heavy wooden doors, he reached a polished mahogany door at the end, a golden plaque reading "Minister of Magic."

He knocked twice, and the door swung open. Cornelius Fudge was sitting at his large, claw-footed desk, wearing a pinstriped suit, scarlet tie, long black cloak, and lime-green bowler hat. Portraits of former Ministers adorned the walls.

"Lucius, my dear man! Do come in," Fudge said jovially, getting to his feet and extending his hand.

Lucius shook it, his lips curling into a smile that didn't reach his cold gray eyes. "Minister Fudge, a pleasure as always."

He settled into a leather chair in front of the desk as Fudge poured two glasses of oak-matured mead from a crystal decanter.

"I must say, Lucius, your support has been invaluable," Fudge said, handing him a glass. "The Ministry is lucky to have friends like you."

Lucius inclined his head, taking a sip of the sweet, heady liquid. "I merely do my duty, Minister. We all want what's best for the wizarding world, after all."

Fudge nodded vigorously as his lime-green bowler hat wobbled. "Yes, yes, quite right. And speaking of that, I have some rather exciting news."

Lucius raised a pale eyebrow, setting down his glass. "Oh? Do tell, Minister. You know how I love to be kept in the loop."

Fudge leaned forward with his small eyes gleaming. "It's about You-Know-Who. The Wizengamot has found a solution, a way to get rid of him for good."

Lucius felt his heart quicken, but his face remained impassive. "Indeed? That is quite the feat, Minister. I'm impressed."

Fudge puffed out his chest, looking immensely pleased with himself. "Yes, well, it's all thanks to the Unspeakables, really. They have this artifact, you see, called the Veil. Apparently, anything that goes through it never comes back."

Lucius leaned forward with glinting eyes. "And when is this momentous event set to occur?"

Fudge glanced around, as though checking for eavesdroppers, then lowered his voice. "Tomorrow night. And then, the day after, we'll tell the world. Show them that the Ministry, under my leadership, has vanquished the Dark Lord once and for all."

Lucius sat back. Tomorrow night. He had to act fast, to ensure everything went according to plan. But he couldn't let Fudge see the cogs turning in his head.

"A toast, then," Lucius said smoothly, raising his glass, "to the Ministry, and to your bold leadership in these troubled times."

Fudge beamed, clinking his glass against Lucius's. "To the Ministry!"

As they drank, Lucius was already planning his next move. He had to keep the other Death Eaters in the dark, to prevent them from interfering. Even Narcissa couldn't know the full extent of his plans. It was a delicate game, but one he was determined to win.

For his family. For his future. Lucius Malfoy would ensure the Dark Lord's destruction, no matter the cost.