The silence in the Defense Against the Dark Arts office stretched out, fragile and tight as a drawn bowstring.
Professor Lupin remained frozen, his hands hovering over the glass jar. His breathing had become shallow, rapid, his eyes locked onto the missing toe of the unconscious rat as if it were a basilisk staring back at him. The scars on his face stood out in stark relief against his sudden, sickly pallor.
"Professor?" Hermione asked, her voice small and uncertain, clutching Crookshanks closer to her chest. "Is everything alright?"
It took Lupin a long, agonizing moment to tear his gaze away from the jar. He looked up at Orion first, his eyes searching the boy's calm, impassive face for any sign that this was a cruel, impossible prank. Finding only polite concern, he slowly turned his attention to Hermione.
"Miss Granger," Lupin croaked, his voice cracking slightly before he cleared his throat, forcing a semblance of professional calm. "This rat... please. Tell me everything you know about it. Everything."
Hermione blinked, bewildered by the intensity of the request. She glanced at Orion, who merely offered a slight, encouraging nod.
"Well... it's Ron's," Hermione began hesitantly. "His name is Scabbers. But he wasn't always Ron's. He used to belong to Percy, Ron's older brother. Percy gave him to Ron when he got Hermes, his owl, for becoming a prefect."
Lupin swallowed hard. "How long? How long has it been in the Weasley family?"
"I... I think Ron said twelve years?" Hermione frowned, trying to recall the trivial details of her friend's pet. "It's been around since they were little. Ron complains about him a lot because he's useless and sleeps all the time."
"Twelve years," Lupin whispered, the words sounding like a death sentence.
"It is highly unusual, Professor," Orion interjected smoothly, leaning back in his chair. "For a common garden rat to live for over a decade. The average lifespan is three to four years at best. A twelve-year-old rat is... statistically suspicious."
Lupin didn't respond to Orion's observation, though the tightening of his jaw indicated he heard it perfectly well. He stood up abruptly, his chair scraping loudly against the floor.
He moved to a small side table and grabbed a sturdy wooden humidor box. Placing it on his desk, he drew his wand. With a complex, silent flick, the wooden box transfigured seamlessly into a heavy, reinforced iron cage, the bars thick and closely spaced.
He uncorked the glass jar Orion had provided and unceremoniously dumped the limp, grey rat into the new cage. He quickly locked the heavy iron latch.
Hermione watched, increasingly alarmed. "Professor, he's just a rat. Is the cage really necessary?"
"I am taking precautions, Miss Granger," Lupin said tightly, his wand glowing as he cast several quick, silent diagnostic charms over the motionless rodent. He let out a shaky breath. "He is not dead. Just unconscious. A localized Stunner, perhaps."
Lupin didn't look at Orion as he said it, but the implication was clear. He knew a cat hadn't done this.
Lupin raised his wand again, pointing it directly at the cage. His hand was trembling slightly. He took a deep, shuddering breath, steeling himself.
"Ennervate," Lupin murmured.
A pulse of red light struck the rat.
Instantly, the rat convulsed. It sneezed, a pathetic, squeaking sound, and rolled onto its belly. It blinked groggily, shaking its head as the magical induced sleep faded.
It sat up on its haunches, rubbing its face with its front paws—the missing toe starkly visible in the candlelight.
It looked around, confused.
It saw Orion Malfoy sitting calmly in a chair. It saw Hermione Granger, clutching the massive, orange beast that had been hunting it for weeks.
And then, it turned its head toward the desk. It saw the scarred, weary face of Remus Lupin staring down at it through the iron bars.
The rat froze completely. The small, beady eyes widened in absolute, paralyzing terror.
"Remus?" a high-pitched, reedy, distinctly human voice squeaked in Orion's mind.
Orion's eyes widened a fraction. He maintained his composure, but internally, his mind was racing.
Fascinating, Orion thought, watching the rat quiver. The All-Speak translates the animal form of an Animagus as well. I can hear the man inside the beast.
The rat began to shiver violently, backing away from the bars until it was pressed into the far corner of the cage. It looked around wildly, frantically assessing its surroundings, its snout twitching in panic.
"Wait... how did I get here?!" Peter Pettigrew shrieked, scrambling against the iron base. "The cat... no, I don't remember the cat being there. Remus knows! He knows!"
Lupin leaned over the desk, gripping the edges so hard the wood groaned. The sorrow and disbelief that had initially flooded his face were entirely gone, replaced by a cold, terrifying fury that seemed to radiate from the very scars on his skin.
"Peter," Lupin whispered, the name dropping into the quiet office like a stone into a deep well.