FicWad

The Harry Potter universe is the creation of J.K. Rowling. This is fanfiction. The standard disclaimers apply. I probably unwittingly take a lot of stuff from other fanfiction, too; I hope this will be interpreted charitably, as tributes to the awesomeness of my sources, but I'll stick in a footnote if anyone asks. I'll use the short disclaimer again most of the time, though.




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Chapter 12: The Rat


Wednesday, September 19, 1990


Albus sat at his desk, partially annoyed, partially intrigued.


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Dear Professor Dumbledore,


I regret to inform you that I was unable to obtain the diadem of Rowena Ravenclaw. My sources had informed me that it had been left by Tom in the Room of Requirement at Hogwarts. My agents were unfortunately unable to find it; we can only hope that it was taken by someone with good intentions. I had hoped to avoid exposing the leader of the light to a dangerous dark artifact, but in retrospect it might have been better to have dealt with this immediately. Rest assured, if I obtain further information about Voldemort's plans I will share them with you if I am able.

I do, however, have something to offer you which ought to brighten your day. You currently have a student in Gryffindor House, Percy Weasley, who has brought to school a pet rat, "Scabbers". Scabbers has some magical properties which I will let you discover for yourself, although I warn you to treat it with all the caution you would give to a dangerous dark artifact and to conduct your investigations in a secure environment. I seem to remember the Headmaster's suite having a room suitable for this purpose. Please do not betray my confidence by getting yourself hurt or letting the rat escape.

My advice is to go in person to the Gryffindor dorm and retrieve the rat without delay, first making absolutely certain that it is asleep or unconscious and will remain that way for as long as necessary to complete your investigations. I strongly suggest asking Professor McGonagall to assist you at every step, and to avoid informing Professor Snape of your activities until you are quite sure your investigations are complete. Bear in mind also that the Ministry, once told of something, cannot be un-told, and an artifact, once out of your possession, might not return.

I refuse to apologize for the cryptic nature of this letter, because you should be able to handle this without incident and giving further clues might spoil your enjoyment.


best wishes,

anon.


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The loss of the diadem was a serious blow; obtaining the other horcruxes would be much more difficult, and the suggestion that multiple forces were at work was unsettling. "Ah, well, Fawkes, I can't be too upset at them for trying to protect me, can I?"

Fawkes trilled and cocked his head.

"I know, I know—I myself have done no less. Well, I suppose we should all have learned a lesson here about acting on information promptly. If I don't go get that rat, I have no doubt it will grow to a hundred times its size and start eating students before the day is out. Let's see, Professor McGonagall is teaching a class right now."

Dumbledore's hesitation was met with another trill.

"Yes, yes, I suppose you're right."


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Tonks had to suppress a smirk when the headmaster interrupted her transfiguration class. Timing that owl had seemed like overkill, but it was totally worth it.

"Minerva?"

"Yes Albus?" she replied, raising an eyebrow.

"I would seem to require your assistance with something, and it ought to be dealt with rather urgently. I'm sure your students will soon get over their grief at having class cancelled." He smiled at the class. Clever, thought Tonks—now McGonagall can't say no. Hopefully he'll stay clever for the next few hours. Tonks crossed her fingers.

"Well," said Minerva, sighing, "I suppose I don't have any choice in the matter, do I? Nevertheless, your papers which are due on Friday remain due on Friday. As always, please come see me if you are having difficulties. Class dismissed." She waved her wand over her notes, sending them into a neat stack, the neat stack into a folder, and the folder into a drawer which opened and closed to receive them. "Well then, Albus, what on earth have you got for me today?"

"Ah! Now, that's the adventure. I don't know! We're off to the Gryffindor boys dorm, where I have been sent by an anonymous but credible note-writer, who, I hope, is not engaged in an elaborate prank. I was strongly advised to bring you along, but not told why!"

Minerva sighed. "Credible?"

"Well, so far, at least!"

Dumbledore waved at the Fat Lady as she swung open to admit them, and then waved cheerfully to the students in the common room as he strode up the stairs into the boys dorm. "Minerva, I need you to find me Percy Weasley's things . . . although I suspect that wasn't what the note writer thought you were supposed to help me with.

Ah, the fourth years are in here, thank you. Hm. Ah, yes, hm. Hm, hm, not that, ah! Here we go. Somnium!" He hovered a cage away from the window, holding a sleeping rat. "Is this bunk Percy's, and do you see any other cages in here?"

"Yes. Yes, it is, and I think it's the only cage. Albus, what is this about? Surely not that rat?"

"It is, in fact, about the rat! We have been instructed in no uncertain terms to treat it as the darkest of dark artifacts!" Dumbledore sounded as excited as Minerva had seen him in, well, weeks at least. She had to admit he got excited pretty easily.

"The rat itself? Do we need to check Percy's things, or Percy himself?"

"Hm. The note didn't say to. I think we should get the rat, which I am told is named 'Scabbers', to a secure location. We'll let the students in the common room tell Percy to come to my office in a few hours. Hopefully we will have made some progress by then." He tapped the cage, disillusioning cage and rat. "There we go. No sense letting on what we are up to, in case it matters somehow."

"Albus, if we really are to treat, er, Scabbers, here, as a dark artifact, we should seal off this dormitory until we can get back here. Why don't you take the rat down to the common room and I'll close the room off."

As she cast the charms to keep anything from getting in or out of the room, she heard Albus talking downstairs. "May I have your attention? While most likely nothing is wrong, the fourth year boys dormitory will be off limits until further notice. It's just a precaution. Finally, if any of you sees Percy Weasley, please send him to my office in, oh, an hour or so. The password is 'licorice jelly beetle'." Then, directed at Fred and George, who had been present for the whole thing, "no, he's not in trouble, at least not yet. Sorry to disappoint you." The twins gave each other a puzzled look. "Ah, Minerva, all set? Good. We're off then!"

They could hear the murmurs of speculation start up behind them before the portrait had finished swinging closed.


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Fawkes had actually made a hissing sound when they returned to the Headmaster's office, staring right at the disillusioned animal. "Hm. Well, I suppose there's no need for that anymore," said Dumbledore, dropping the disillusionment. Then, looking at Fawkes "Well, the note did say to treat it like a dark artifact. Fawkes would seem to agree. I've never seen him be wrong about something like that. Well, then, let's get it into the back room."

In a few minutes, they were standing in a round, domed chamber about fifteen feet in diameter, which had in fact been built for exactly this sort of thing. The doors and the windows had been magically sealed, and the rat—now snoring—had been levitated out of its cage and onto the center of a marble workbench Dumbledore had conjured.

Minerva had her wand trained on it, but made no move to do anything else. "This is your show, Albus. Go ahead."

After about ten minutes of watching him stroke his beard, mutter to himself, and try a few diagnostic spells that weren't normally designed for living things, Minerva couldn't stand it any longer. "May I take a turn?"

"Why, of course!" He beamed, and stood back, keeping his wand trained on the rat. Minerva looked him in the eye, gave a slight smile, and paused for dramatic effect.

"I have a hunch as to why your informant asked for the transfiguration professor. Stand back." She stepped back herself, letting herself take a deep breath and exhale.

Albus watched as the table was extended to seven feet, a flash of blue-white light came from Minerva's wand, and the rat grew and transformed. Before his eyes could recover, the body on the table had been pinned in place with iron cuffs.

Even after a decade as a rat—which had apparently not treated the man well—Albus recognized him almost immediately. "Peter Pettigrew."

"Yes, Albus. I believe it's your turn again. Now what?"

"Well, we wake him up, of course! Can he escape from that?"

She looked insulted. "I know what I'm doing. He'll be quite incapable of transforming out of that. Whether he's any good with wandless magic is another question entirely."

"Naturally. Do you wish to be present for this?"

She scowled. "I get the feeling we're not going to like what we learn. So, no, if it's all the same to you, I'd like to go inspect my students' dormitory."

"Very well. Take Filius with you when you do—explain the situation to him. I don't want to take any chances, and no offense, but you have just reminded me of how easily one person can miss the obvious." Minerva snorted at this, but kept her mouth shut. "Before you go, could you stand watch here while I make a few floo calls?"

"I suppose."

She had been left locked in the chamber with Pettigrew for about three minutes, when she heard a familiar muttering approaching the door, and Albus re-entered followed by a displeased-looking Alastor Moody. "Really, Albus, this better be good . . . WHAT!!!" While his magic eye was scanning the body on the table, Dumbledore waved her on. "I think we can take it from here. Let me know if you find anything, and I still want to speak to Percy. Come to think of it, send me all the Weasleys you can find, just to be sure." Oh, that was going to go well, she thought.

Minerva got out of there as quickly as possible. She had been very fond of James and Lily, and in all likelihood Peter was better off without her interrogating him. Mad-Eye wouldn't be nearly as terrifying.


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Fred and George Weasley were perplexed, and it was driving them up the wall. Professors McGonagall and Flitwick were both in the dorm, presumably going through Percy's things, after telling them the Headmaster wanted to see all of the Weasley brothers in his office later.

"It occurs to me that our dear brother might, in fact, not have done anything wrong."

"What, Charlie? Why, just yesterday, I saw him . . ."

"But, alas, not Percy. McGonagall and Flitwick, though . . ."

". . . don't look so sure."

"And seem to be checking for something."

"Which means . . ."

". . . we're probably next, and they are going to want to go through everything."

"Right then."

"Panic!"


They ran, then, at top speed, pausing only to tiptoe past the room under investigation, to gather up whatever they could think of that might be contraband. They opened their trunks and started throwing things into a duffel bag.

Periodically they would pause upon finding some questionable object.

"What is this, anyway?"

"It looks like a bag of sugar quills which have been sat on."

"Are sugar quills on Filch's list?"

"Haven't the foggiest—into the duffel."

"What about socks? We can have socks, right?"

"Did we do anything to them?"

"I don't remember."

"Into the duffel!"


After a surprisingly efficient five minutes, half of their possessions had been removed from their trunks, the duffel had been shrunk and tucked in George's pocket, and their remaining clothes had been neatly folded with a series of spells that would have shocked their mother, who thought they were genuinely bad at the household charms she had taught them, and not just faking it.

In short order they were back in the common room, and Fred was noisily regaling Charlie about Percy's theoretical misdemeanors. George, in the meantime, palmed off the shrunken duffel to an amused Angelina Johnson, who would no doubt later call in that favor for all it was worth.

After a few minutes of conversation, Charlie also ran off to his dormitory at top speed.

"You'd almost think he had something to hide."

"You would, wouldn't you."

"Do you suppose we should try to find out?"

"Oh, we'll offer to help, of course."

"Which is equivalent to snooping . . ."

". . . but sounds better!"


Several minutes later they were back in the common room, talking loudly while Charlie palmed off a small package to a seventh year girl, mere seconds before Flitwick and McGonagall started walking their way.

"Ah, Professor McGonagall!"

"We're simply dying to know . . ."

". . . what you found in our dear brother's things."

"We tried to come up with something . . ."

". . . suitably humorous to suggest . . ."

". . . but with Percy all our ideas . . ."

". . . kept involving Minister Fudge . . ."

". . . and we didn't like thinking about that . . ."

". . . so we stopped."

"You have our deepest apologies!"


"That's enough, you two. Now, I don't think my searching your trunks as well would accomplish anything, since frankly I think you are smart enough to hide anything that might get you into trouble. No, don't respond to that, I don't want to hear it."

"What she means," interrupted Professor Flitwick, "is that Percy's stuff was boring, we didn't find anything, and we don't want to go through that process a second time."

"Filius!"

"Well, unless of course you boys have anything you'd like us to take a look at?"

Fred and George gave each other a look that Minerva didn't like, and then turned to Charlie, who shrugged. "Nope." said Fred.

"Good. Now, Filius is going to escort you to the headmaster's office while I go pull your brother out of class."

"Well, then, . . ."

". . . this is exciting!"


Minerva turned around, stopping on her way out. "You know sometimes you two sound exactly like Albus Dumbledore, right?" That got a reaction. She went on her way with a satisfied, but well-hidden, smirk.


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A few hours later, the twins were standing outside of Filch's office.

The list of banned items consisted of 1127 entries, written down on about forty sheets of parchment, clipped together and hung from a nail on the caretaker's door.


"This is absolutely stunning!"

"Breathtaking!"

"It just goes on and on!"

"Exploding doorknob-cozies. Sink-clogging fluid. Turnip launchers? Fair enough."

"Inflatable screechers. Seeping mifflers. Clockwork snails. Kneazle-in-a-jar. Do you have any idea what these are?"

"Not a clue. Squid-whistles, trawling nets, depth charges, all magical boats not school-owned. Those were all together—sounds like a good story."

"Level three and a half omniscopes from Barker and Hewett, models 5a and 6. That's pretty specific. I wonder what made 5b and 4 okay."

"Oh, there are normal things on here every so often, too. Fanged frisbees, dungbombs, hiccough drops, sneezing potion, nose-biting teacups, ah! Sugar quills! I was right."

"Well, keep an eye out for socks, then. How are we ever going to beat nose-biting teacups? How does Zonko come up with this stuff, anyway?"

"I have no idea. And move on to other body parts? Oh, there's carnivorous hats on there already."

"Leprechauns. How is that an item?"

"All varieties of live poultry. Huh."

"Gila monsters. Okay, that one sounds reasonable."

"Poly . . . cyclic . . . lightning orbitals? That can't be right."

"Here we go! Paint-on-socks. Have we tried that?"

"No, only the underwear, but if the girls just keep hitting us when we ask for testers, I don't see why we should bother."

"Vanishing cream. I wonder if that means what he thinks it does?"

"It's next to the ever-flowing sinus frobbers, whatever those are, so maybe. Muggle 'magic wands'. I have no idea."

"French can-openers. Okay, I have to know." Then, yelling: "Mr. Filch, what is a French can-opener, and why can't we have one?"

"Go away!"

"Oh well. Maybe there's something special about French cans."

"Spray paint. I wonder what that is?"

"Self-chewing gum. Ew, why?"

"Snow-summoning rods. Oh, I like that—I wonder if Zonko's has any . . ."


"Go away, you miscreants! It's not a list of required class supplies, they're banned items. Banned!"


"Ooh, this is interesting—any doll or other toy in the likeness of a Hogwarts student or staff member. I bet somebody made a plushie Snape with magically greasy hair!"

"Or a Dumbledore with style-able beard and seven sets of brightly-colored robes!"

"That last one might actually sell, remember that. Okay, now we're getting into the real dark artifacts, let's skim this bit."


After a very long while, and several exchanges with an increasingly irritated Filch, the Weasley twins threw up their hands. "I guess we just have to accept that it's not against the rules to have an unregistered rat animagus in the dorms."

"Percy really wasn't in trouble, then."

"Sadly the same is not true for those magazines Charlie has."

"Oh, yes, the blackmail material."

"You know, I quite like the idea of those snow-summoning thingies—do you suppose we could get them to work indoors? In the dungeons, perhaps?"