Categories > Books > Harry Potter > Moments in Love

The Turn of the Worm: Part 1

by Gandalfs_Beard 0 reviews

The future is thrown into turmoil as the Dark Lord's reconstitution has far reaching ramifications for all concerned...

Category: Harry Potter - Rating: PG-13 - Genres: Angst,Drama,Romance - Characters: Harry,Hermione - Published: 2017-09-04 - 5266 words

The ducks gathered around the bench, quacking greedily as Harry chucked his last few chips for the squabbling waterfowl. Finished with his burger and chips, Harry glanced about to make sure that nobody else was around. Then with his wand, he banished the rubbish into a bin a bit further down the creekside path.

“Nice shot!” said Dora with a grin as she tossed a few of her own chips for the ducks.

“Yes, Harry’s got excellent aim!” beamed Hermione.

“Probably from all that practice using stunning spells on Snitches.” Harry grinned properly for the first time since the previous day, then took another sip of his Coke. But he still felt the unsettling thoughts simmering at the back of his mind. Harry cleared his throat.

“Dora,” he began tentatively, “ I hope you don’t mind me asking - you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to - but have you ever... erm... you know... seen anything horrible - as an Auror I mean...?”

Dora understood Harry’s question all too well, and why he was asking it; she gave him a sad little smile. Hermione squeezed Harry’s hand comfortingly.

“Well, most people are surprised to hear this,” Dora responded, “but relatively few cases we get actually involve murder these days. I ‘aven’t seen as much as Mad Eye or Shacklebolt - I haven’t been around long enough - they’d really be the ones to ask. Still - there was this one case I assisted on which was particularly nasty.

“You don’t really need the gory details, but I’ll probably never forget the sight of the body. I did ‘ave a few nightmares for a bit... I will say this though, eventually I more or less got over the worst feelings. It does get better Harry.”

Harry nodded, sighing. “Yeah... that’s what I thought. I suppose I’ll eventually get over it, but I dunno - it was like I was actually participating though.”

Hermione slipped her arms around Harry’s middle, giving him a gentle kiss on the cheek before leaning her bushy head on his shoulder.

“It’s alright Harry,” she said quietly. “If you have any nightmares, I’ll be right beside you...”

“An’ I’ll be right next door if you both need me again... whatever time of night, for whatever reason,” Dora gave Harry another little smile.

“Thanks guys - I do feel loads better than I did last night at least,” he said, giving the top of Hermione’s head a little kiss and returning Dora’s smile.

The trio finished the rest of their early lunch and binned the rest of the rubbish, showing their empty hands to the still hopeful ducks before disguising themselves and making their way to find a bus-stop. Two hours later they were in a larger town some thirty miles distant from Little Hangleton, where Dora located a wizard pub.

Harry was a bit puzzled when Dora threw the sparkling green powder in the pub’s fireplace and spoke the name of the Hog’s Head Inn, a pub in Hogsmeade which he’d only glanced in once. Hermione looked equally bewildered, having thought they’d be returning directly to Dumbledore’s office.

“Just to be safe,” Dora whispered, seeing the Potters’ perplexed expressions. “Don’t wanna give anyone suspicious any ideas about who we really are.”

Comprehension dawned on the Potters’ faces, and they both followed Dora into the green flames. They emerged into the dingy pub at the other end, where nobody gave them a second look, used to strangers and odd folk coming and going as they were. Dora gave the bartender a wink, as he was the only one who seemed to recognise the disguise currently hiding her identity. The elderly looking bartender uttered a surly grunt and went about his business.

“There’s something familiar about the bartender,” murmured Hermione after they had departed the Hog’s Head and begun the trek along the path towards Hogwarts, “but I can’t put my finger on it.”

“Same here,” Harry muttered, his brow furrowed pensively. “That’s what I thought the day we were looking for Hagrid.”

“Oh, that’s Aberforth, Dumbledore’s brother,” said Dora. “He’s a member of the Order too...”

“Dumbledore’s got a brother!?” gasped Harry, glancing quickly at Hermione, who seemed equally surprised by the news. “I... I never knew - Dumbledore never mentioned him before.”

“I don’t think they get on much, really...” Dora shrugged uncertainly. “Aberforth’s a bit grumpy, but I dunno why.”

Curiosity about Dumbledore's relationship with his brother niggled at Harry and Hermione all the way back up to Hogwarts. Harry and Dora morphed back into their usual selves and Dora undid the disguise spells she had placed on Hermione just before they reached the gate. After reaching the castle, they made their way to the marble staircase, surprised to see Karkaroff glancing around nervously and rubbing his forearm as he headed for the dungeons.


The Warlock with long platinum hair strode resolutely through the Ministry as if he owned the place, making his way to the Minister’s office, pondering the purpose of her request to meet today. The next Task wasn’t for months, and there was no legislation pending before any Wizengamot committee which required his personal attention currently - his proxy was more than capable of handling any legislative issues. He absentmindedly scratched at his forearm before rapping on the Minister’s door with the silver snake-head which topped his cane.
“You may enter,” called out a high pitched voice from inside.

The Warlock pushed the door open and raised his eyebrows to see the other who was visiting with the Minister. The Warlock gave the Unspeakable a thin smile and a nod. Clearly something had come up.

“Thank you for coming Lucius,” the Minister greeted the Warlock in honeyed tones, “My apologies if I have interrupted anything of importance.”

“Not at all Dolores,” the Warlock replied. “If Augustus is meeting with us as well, I must presume that whatever we are here to discuss is of top priority.”

“Quite so,” Dolores agreed. “Augustus has been an invaluable asset - I cannot thank you enough for suggesting his release from Azkaban, Lucius...”

“As do I myself,” Augustus interjected with a chuckle.

“Indeed,” said Dolores wryly. “In any case, Augustus has brought something to my attention which concerns all of us greatly. I must ask you, have you noticed anything... unusual about the Mark you bear on your forearm, Lucius?”

His left hand twitching reflexively, Lucius Malfoy paled slightly and glanced at Augustus Rookwood.

“Yes...” hissed Lucius after a moment, “Am I to take it then, that there is some... significance beyond the personal regarding the clarity of the Mark and the associated... twinge?”

“Since last night at midnight?” asked Rookwood.

“I first became aware when I awoke this morning,” Lucius responded. “But surely this cannot mean...”

“The Dark Lord has returned,” Rookwood interjected curtly. “Apparently he was not quite as dead as we had believed.”

“How can you be so certain?” Lucius Malfoy peered at the Unspeakable questioningly.

“I think you know as well as I do that the clarity of the Mark on the both of us can only mean one thing,” Augustus replied pointedly, his eyebrows raised. “No doubt it is noticeable to the others as well. Though had the Dark Lord called for us, there would be no question of his reconstitution at all.”

Minister Dolores Umbridge eyed Lucius, carefully studying his manner as he reacted to the news, noting the flare of his nostrils and the hesitation in his eyes. For a moment she considered not revealing the capture and interrogation of Barty Crouch’s son, but she decided against that course of action. In this instance, the truth - or at least a close approximation of it - would be most determinative of where Lucius Malfoy’s loyalties would ultimately lie.

“My dear Lucius,” Dolores began in her most breathy, girlish voice, “this is quite a surprise to us all - and no doubt very shocking. But this would appear to confirm a tale which I had believed to be madness - the demented ravings of Barty Crouch Junior who had escaped Azkaban with the intention of kidnapping and murdering Harry Potter.

“Crouch Junior was captured by Dumbledore and turned over the Ministry not so long ago - it was all kept very quiet of course. Under interrogation, Barty had claimed to have been tasked by Voldemort himself, but he seemed deranged beyond repair at the time and died before we were able to extract any useful information. But now, it seems that he may have indeed been sent to Hogwarts under orders... Voldemort’s orders that is.

“Under other circumstances - if Fudge were still in office - Voldemort’s return might even be welcome news... but we all know how much of a liability the Dark Lord ended up becoming to our goals.

“And his latest failure is yet another example of his unreliability. Whatever gains he had made for our cause were wiped out overnight thirteen years ago due to his carelessness... and to his exceeding arrogance.

“Had he succeeded, it might have perhaps been more than worth it, but how many of his own followers who suffered or lost their lives to his failures and his temper tantrums can sincerely say that now with hindsight. Not only did Voldemort bring about his own defeat, but he singlehandedly martyred the Potters and turned Dumbledore and the Potter boy into Living Icons, setting our agenda back decades.

“The Dark Lord is unreliable, and in the end, his unruly behaviour is a detriment to a truly stable Pureblood Order. For the time-being, he is still quite useful to our goals as an outsider, and to keep Dumbledore on his toes, but I expect that Dumbledore will eventually defeat him again... especially if we deny Voldemort the backing that he had during the last war.

“In the meantime, our own plan to destabilise Dumbledore is working - despite Potter’s continued existence - they are both losing the credibility that Voldemort himself bestowed upon them. And if we play our cards right, we can use the feud between Voldemort and Dumbledore to our own advantage.”

Dolores was heartened to see a sly smile creep to Lucius Malfoy’s lips as his eyes narrowed and his jaw set in steely resolve.

“Yes!” Lucius drawled as he nodded slowly. “Yes indeed Dolores! You are as sensible as always... The Dark Lord is extremely powerful and dangerous, but with few followers he will be at a great disadvantage, and he may still be weakened by his defeat. If fortune smiles upon us, he and Dumbledore might even kill each other off.

“I will speak with the others immediately. If the Dark Lord does indeed call upon us, I cannot promise that none at all will answer him, but I believe that I can guarantee that very few shall return to his side...”


The Durmstrang headmaster fidgeted as he awaited the end of the lesson, desperate to speak to the Potions Master. Karkaroff was scared witless. The Mark on his left arm had itched since midnight, clearer than it had been for the past thirteen years and he didn’t know what to do. Finally, the students departed the dungeon and Severus Snape raised his eyebrows at Igor Karkaroff.
“Is there a problem Igor? I am rather busy...”

“This!” hissed the silver haired wizard half-angrily as he yanked up his sleeve. “You must have noticed. Surely it can only mean one thing Severus. And if so...”

“...You intend to leave Britain? You wish me to help you run away and hide?” His expression unnervingly cool, Severus continued to eye Igor Karkaroff. “And what then... What of the Triwizard Tournament?” he continued. “What is to become of your students? ...your school?’

“But I must - He’ll kill me if I stay!” Igor gasped, “I betrayed Him and all of the rest. You of all people should be able to grasp that. Are you not Dumbledore’s man now?”

Severus Snape penetrated Karkaroff’s eyes with his own, and he saw that indeed, the silver-haired wizard just wanted to get away - he had no intentions of rejoining Voldemort. A vein began to throb in Snape’s forehead. It would be so easy to simply let the Dark Lord kill Igor, but Severus had his orders from Dumbledore.

Too much was at stake while the Minister was apparently moving ahead with her own plans. It wouldn't do for her to find Igor alone and unprotected, and to blackmail him into joining her efforts. Severus shook his head and sighed, knowing that very soon he would also have to reveal his own sordid past to Harry Potter.

“Igor... I guarantee, you are much safer here at Hogwarts than anywhere else at the moment. Dumbledore will protect you.”

“How can you be so certain?” Igor’s voice quavered. “There is no love lost between Dumbledore and myself - no trust... He believes I ordered the assassination of Potter. I would be no safer...”

“There is always the Unbreakable Vow,” Severus retorted with a hint of a sneer. Then, remembering his task, Snape restrained himself, savagely squashing the disdain he felt for the cowardice of the man in front of him.

“Join us,” said Severus more softly, “Make the Vow Igor, and I promise that Dumbledore will host you until such a time as the Dark Lord is.... permanently defeated.”


“I’m sorry we weren’t able to watch the Second Task in person, Harry!” Sirius said glumly, peering at his godson from the other side of the mirror, Lupin at his side.

“It’s alright,” said Harry. “Hermione and I reckoned that you mightn’t show up considering Skeeter’s horrid article about Professor Lupin and Hagrid,”

“Indeed Harry, we did think it best to avoid being seen at Hogwarts at the moment,” sighed Lupin. “You see, unfortunately the Ministry has issued a warrant for my arrest...”

“You’re joking!” Harry gasped.

“What on earth for?” squeaked Hermione.

“Some children were killed recently in a manner that the Ministry decided had all the bearings of a werewolf attack - and apparently they’ve fingered me as the culprit...”

“That’s ridiculous!” snapped Hermione. “They can’t possibly have any evidence that it was you.”

“Quite true!” Lupin replied. “But be that as it may, undoubtedly the narrative suits the Minister’s current agenda against Dumbledore for hiring me. And Dumbledore agrees - so I’m stuck here for the time-being...”

“...Under my protection of course. I’ll have you all to myself, Remus,” Sirius added with a rakish grin and a wink, trying to lighten the mood. He turned back to Harry. “Number Twelve is under a number of concealment and protection charms as you well know, so nobody except a few people I trust are even aware of its existence.”

“Erm...” Harry began tentatively with a glance at Hermione, “that’s what I wanted to talk to you about actually. I was... er... I was wondering if you’d be able to look after Hermione’s mum and aunt - have them there...”

“Harry - what... ?” Hermione gasped, peering at her husband incredulously, “We never discussed... you never said...”

“I’ve only been thinking about it since this morning Hermione,” said Harry earnestly. “I don’t want Voldemort to track your mum and aunt down now that he’s restored himself. I don’t want you to lose them like I lost my mum and dad.”

Lupin nodded when Sirius gave him a grim look, both of the older wizards swallowing sadly.

“Of course I’ll have them here, Harry,” Sirius answered quickly. “I’d be more than happy to look after them both for you and Hermione - we’re all family now...”

Tears filled Hermione’s eyes as she cast them down, and she bit her lip. She hadn’t even considered that Voldemort might try to go after her family. But Hermione supposed that horrid wizard who had been pretending to be Ron’s pet rat would have probably told Voldemort by now that she was very close to Harry. Slowly she nodded.

“Th...thank you Sirius,” Hermione responded, her voice trembling. “I just... I’m not sure - my father... I know he was mean to me and Mum, but I don’t want him to be killed...”

Sirius’s features hardened, his voice steely. “I’m sorry Hermione, but I’ll not have that man under my roof... Not after what he did to Jean. But I’ll talk to Dumbledore... perhaps we can arrange to send your father somewhere abroad with an escort - somewhere Voldemort won’t think to look...”

“Yes!” Hermione nodded again as the tears dripped from her cheeks. “Yes... if you think that’s best...” she trailed off as Harry took her in his arms. Sirius and Lupin shared a sympathetic, knowing look.

“I’ll let you two go for now,” said Sirius gently. “Don’t worry Hermione - Remus and I shall be sure to contact Dumbledore at once to make arrangements for your father’s safety, and I’ll have your mum and aunt up here in London by this evening...”


Hermione felt much better after a nice cuddle with Harry. She knew that Sirius and Lupin were as good as their word. She sighed happily as she lay in Harry’s arms, both snuggled together on their settee. As she relaxed and began feeling more cheerful, Hermione recalled something odd that Harry had said that morning.
“Harry, when we were talking about sending messages with Patronuses earlier today, what did you mean when you said you were thinking of something else?”

“Oh... right! Patronuses,” said Harry, eager for something pleasant to chat about. “Hermione, I’ve been thinking - you remember what Flitwick told us about Charms - that they can be adjusted to meet the needs of the moment?”

“Yes,” Hermione replied quietly, waiting for Harry to say more.

“Well, I was thinking back to how powerful our Patronuses were in Third Year...”

Hermione listened intently as Harry told her all about his speculations regarding Patronuses and whether Dementors were truly indestructible. She bit her lip as she considered all of her husband’s points.

“You know Harry, I think you might be on to something,” she said finally. “Dementors are defined as Non-beings - but that can’t really be true. If it were, they wouldn’t exist at all - they’d just be figments of our imaginations - they wouldn’t be able to harm people and suck their souls out if that were true.

“The more I think about it, it seems to me that Non-being is just a legal definition - just like the legal definition of Beasts is used against Centaurs and Merfolk to justify subjugating them. So if Dementors are in fact, some sort of being, some sort of wraith, like Boggarts are...”

“...and like Lethifolds are,” Harry continued excitedly, “then they really can be destroyed. Exactly! Lupin told us that they can only abide positive emotions in small quantities - that they prefer to feed on negative emotions - and so that’s why Corporeal Patronuses are actually able to repel them. But ours were super-strong for some reason and the Dementors hoofed it as if they were in actual danger! What if too much positive emotion is actually destructive of them?”

“Precisely Harry!” Hermione beamed. It was a testimony to how horrid she thought Dementors were that she didn’t blanche at the thought of killing them - at least under the circumstances of defending herself or others from attack.

“I really can’t explain why our Patronuses were so much more powerful than other people’s,” she went on, “that still doesn’t make much sense to me. Obviously the power of our emotions had something to do with it, but why would our emotions be so qualitatively and quantitatively different from those of most other wizards?”

Hermione frowned, then shook her head as if to put that aside for the moment. “...But in any case Harry, if we keep up our practice with Patronuses, and focus on putting as much joy into them, and as much...”

“ much Love into them as possible...” Harry said with such a soft look in his green eyes that it made Hermione turn pink and flutter her eyelashes shyly, “then I bet something might actually happen to the Dementors before they had a chance to fly off and kill someone else - suck their souls out I mean...”

“...which is really just as bad,” Hermione finished quietly. Harry nodded

“Now we just need a way to generate lots and lots of joy and love...” said Hermione after a moment of silence passed between them. She bit her lip again and was still looking at Harry with a shy expression, but a naughty golden gleam flashed in her eye that made Harry gulp. “...and I think I know just the thing...” she whispered as she grinned and wrapped her arms around Harry’s waist, pulling him closer for a steamy kiss.


Despite the biting wind, it was too nice to stay inside all afternoon until dinner. After the Potters had messed about for a bit in their quarters and classes had let out for the day, Harry chased a Snitch around the quidditch pitch with Viktor. Lavender and Parvati joined Hermione in the stands, who was taking the opportunity to practice speaking French with Fleur. Dora sat nearby, doodling in her sketchbook, occasionally stealing glances at Fleur.
After an hour or so of flying, Harry leapt off his broom, grinning and ruffling his windswept hair as Hermione came down from the stands to meet him. Viktor nodded and gave Harry a wink as he departed to spend a bit of time with Lavender. Harry flopped on the grass, still panting as Hermione sat beside him, peering up at the stands where Dora was showing Parvati her sketches of Harry and Viktor in flight while flicking the pages quickly past her sketches of Fleur.

When the other students in the stands who had been watching Harry and Viktor left as well, Hermione took the opportunity to steal a kiss with Harry, not minding that Dora and Parvati could see them. As they both lay back on the lawn, gazing up at the relatively clear blue sky, watching a flock of starlings pass by and listening to the buzz of insects, Harry began to drift...


As the afternoon wore on the Dark Lord inspected again his new body in the mirror, finding himself with a new appreciation for his Servant. Wormtail had acquitted himself well again, killing the muggles in the new manor which they had taken during the night after leaving behind forever the home of the Dark Lord’s father. Voldemort considered the many other deeds of Wormtail which had made this moment possible.
The Rodent's long-term stint as a pet in the clan of the red haired Blood-Traitors had apparently proved invaluable, providing the necessary intelligence for the task of locating and procuring a suitable sacrificial victim for the Dark Ritual. And Wormtail had not flinched when it had come time for him to kill the boy without the use of a wand. Nor had he blanched at cutting out the boy’s heart and feeding it to the Dark Lord.

Wormtail had uttered the incantation and performed the ritual to perfection, releasing the Dark Magic which had restored the Homunculus to a superior iteration of his former self. Time and again, Wormtail had shown more of an aptitude for Blood Magic than Voldemort had ever expected of the Rodent. He seemed to relish killing, and the Dark Lord began to think that he had been quite mistaken to doubt Wormtail’s loyalty and competence.

Who was it who had come searching for his Master in the Albanian wilderness when the others had forsaken their Lord? Who was it whose quick thinking and courage had inspired him to kidnap and sacrifice a Ministry Lackey in a rather spectacular Blood Ritual which had created a rudimentary Homunculus for Voldemort to inhabit, thus giving the Dark Lord an opportunity to create his final Horcrux?

Wormtail! That was who!

The Dark Lord had also plied from his Servant under one of his numerous torture sessions the remarkable story of how Wormtail had come to be missing a finger. The Rat had killed 12 muggles and sacrificed a piece of himself to frame the Blood Traitor Sirius Black.

And Voldemort recalled how Wormtail had bravely gone against those he had once called friends and handed the Potters to the Dark Lord on a Silver Platter. No doubt the fools Wormtail had betrayed believed the Rat to be a Coward. But had not his acts proved otherwise?

To kill without remorse took far more courage than most people realised. And the Rat had proved himself to be quite adept at it.

If the Rat could be said to have a Fear, it was only of Death. And who in their right minds did not fear Death? Certainly the Dark Lord had spent his own resources on conquering Death. Wormtail could not truly be said to fear pain. For did not the Rodent offer himself willingly to the Dark Lord for punishment?

Thanks to Wormtail, Voldemort was restored, not merely to his previous form, but to a superior form - purified of the imperfections of his father’s blood. Now, the Dark Lord was who he had been truly destined to be. Wormtail would be rewarded properly with the rank befitting someone of his dedication to the Dark Lord - he would take his rightful place at Voldemort’s side, where once the Dark Lord had believed would be another.

Severus - what a disappointment he had turned out to be. The Dark Lord had hoped that Severus would take his place as his Second. But apparently he had turned away after the Potters’ murder. Now that the Dark Lord understood the true Courage of the Rat, he was more certain than ever that Severus was a Coward.

Severus, who had appeared willing to die for Voldemort; his lack of fear of Death should have been a warning sign.

Severus, who had begged the Dark Lord to spare the very same Mudblood whom Wormtail had been so eager to destroy.

For what? Love? Pathetic! Power was the only force worth possessing. Severus could have taken any woman for his own under the Dark Lord’s rule. No! The truth was that Severus was not afraid to die only because he was afraid of living. He was soft - afraid of pain. And above all he was afraid of doing what was necessary to take Power - he was afraid to kill.

Voldemort knew now that it had been foolish to have ever trusted Severus, just as it had been foolish to have believed that Barty Crouch Junior was competent enough to avoid capture. It was time now for the Dark Lord to summon his minions, and to witness who was loyal and courageous enough to return to his side as Wormtail had. Those who had chosen the Dark Witch - Voldemort would deal with them soon enough.

The Dark Lord’s red eyes gleamed as he turned to face his most loyal servant outside of Azkaban.

“Wormtail,” he hissed. “It is time...”

“Yes Master!” Wormtail bowed his head and rolled up his sleeve, revealing the blistering red brand on his forearm, a skull with a serpent in its mouth.

Voldemort pressed his long pale forefinger to the Mark and it turned black. Wormtail grit his teeth and groaned in pain, pleased that this was the worst his Master had to offer him today.

“Now we shall see Wormtail,” the Dark Lord whispered dangerously, “Who among my followers will be as brave as you? Who will return to my side as you did? You came to me Wormtail, unbidden, seeking me out when no others would. For that, you shall be rewarded beyond measure...”


“Harry! Wake up, please...” Hermione’s voice cut through the screams in his head as he came to, thrashing about on the field.
Harry groaned and sat upright, cold sweat dripping from his forehead. He flicked a beetle off his robes and rubbed at his once again burning scar as Hermione, Parvati, and Dora knelt beside him in the grass, all peering at him in concern. Parvati was trembling and tearful, having never seen Harry look so in pain; Dora and Hermione just seemed sad. Clouds tinged with pink had drawn across the purple sky and the shadows of the mountains had crept across the lawn as he’d slept, heralding the sunset.

“Harry!” said Hermione again, breathing heavily with anxiety. “Was it...?”

“My scar...” Harry muttered, thinking better of revealing what he’d just witnessed, outside where any wandering student might overhear. “It was my scar again - maybe we should go to the hospital wing...”

But once inside the castle, Harry led Hermione, Dora, and Parvati straight to the gargoyle guarding Dumbledore’s office. When they entered, the headmaster peered over the top of his spectacles at Harry and his entourage, looking for all the world as if he’d been expecting their arrival. Harry was still more than a bit pale when he took a seat in the stuffed chintz armchair with Hermione on his lap. Dora and Parvati sat in their own cushioned armchairs nearby.

“Well Harry,” the headmaster began quietly, “May I presume that Voldemort has finally summoned his supporters?”

“Yeah...” said Harry, wincing when he nodded his still throbbing head. Hermione gave him another kiss on the cheek and the pain ebbed a bit more. “Yeah he did... and he’s furious. Almost nobody returned... He was especially cross that Professor Snape betrayed him...”

Parvati and Dora both gasped, horrified to think that Snape might have once been one of Voldemort’s supporters. Harry glanced at Hermione and swallowed, his jaw tightening. They had both suspected that Snape had once been in Voldemort’s employ since the evening that Scabbers had turned out to be Wormtail, having heard their exchanges, but this was the first real confirmation that they’d had.

Harry found it difficult to look Dumbledore in the eye, uncertain of his own feelings. The headmaster looked apologetic.

“I am sorry that you had to find out this way, Harry. It had been my hope that Severus would one day see fit to tell his own story...”

“It’s alright sir...” Harry sighed resignedly, “I know from Voldemort’s thoughts that Professor Snape never intended for my mum and dad to be killed. I know it was Wormtail - Pettigrew - who really sold them out. I have since Third Year. That... that was one of the reasons that Wormtail is Voldemort’s favourite right now...

“Voldemort... he’s really angry at the rest - except for those still in Azkaban. The only ones who showed up were Crabbe, Goyle, MacNair, and Avery - He tortured the lot of them except for Wormtail...”
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