It's over. Snape's really going to hand Sirius Black over to the Dementors.
From outside the Shrieking Shack, Argus watched the scene unfold with crystal clarity. He knew Snape too well—this wasn't a bluff. The Potions Master wouldn't give a damn if Sirius was innocent. Forget the old schoolyard bullying; Sirius's choice to switch Secret-Keepers to Pettigrew, dooming Lily, was a wound Snape could never forgive.
But right now, Sirius was still useful. They hadn't secured the Black family vault yet—why let him rot back in Azkaban? Any move against Snape would kick up a storm, drawing in the Hogwarts staff and Dumbledore himself. That would make slipping Peter away impossible, delaying Voldemort's return and derailing Argus's timeline. No intervention, then. But how to stop this without lifting a finger?
Inside, Snape pressed his wand to Sirius's temple. "A Dementor's Kiss—imagine the flavor. Suits you perfectly. I hear it's gruesome, but I'll watch every second. Wouldn't miss it."
"Severus, no!" Under Snape's roof, Lupin had no choice but to tread carefully. "You know Sirius didn't—"
"Shut it!" Snape snapped, eyes fixed ahead.
He could take all three—Harry, Lupin, Sirius—without breaking a sweat. Lupin was a non threat.
Harry gripped his wand, heart pounding. He distrusted them all. Snape was his least favorite professor, the sneering git from Potions. Lupin had seemed decent until that Hogsmeade chat between Argus and Dumbledore shattered the illusion. And Sirius? The man who'd orphaned him—though something in his desperation hinted at layers.
"You—move!" Snape jabbed his wand, forcing Sirius ahead like a prisoner. "Expelliarmus!"
Harry's hand trembled, but resolve hardened his gaze. No more hesitation. "Expelliarmus!"
The spell hit Snape square, hurling him into a splintering table. He crashed amid the debris, wand skittering away.
Harry blinked at his own wand, stunned. When had he gotten this strong? Even Argus, peering through the cracks, raised an eyebrow. Third year, and the kid had floored Snape. Classic Potter.
"Well done, Harry!" Sirius beamed, rubbing his bruised ribs. Most young wizards wouldn't dare cross a professor. No wonder he was James and Lily's boy—a true Gryffindor.
Harry steadied his breath and swung his wand toward Sirius. "Tell me about Peter."
Sirius coughed, shaking off the blow. "We were mates once—classmates, thought he was solid."
"No, Peter Pettigrew's dead. You killed him!"
"He's not!" Lupin interjected, rising unsteadily. "I believed it too, until that photo in the paper—the rat with the missing toe."
Harry's grip tightened. "A rat? With a missing toe?"
"Peter's alive. He's Ron Weasley's rat—Scabbers!"
"You're mad. Completely off your rocker." Harry seethed, furious at himself for entertaining this.
"Scabbers—at Ron's for twelve years!" Sirius pressed, advancing slowly. "Ordinary rat live that long? And missing a toe, just like Pettigrew after the blast."
"So what?"
Harry's edge softened. He wasn't thick; the pieces fit. Rats didn't last a dozen years, and the coincidence screamed truth. "When Peter 'died,' they only found a finger. He chopped it off to fake it, then turned Animagus and hid as that rat. Lied to you for over a decade!"
Sirius's shout echoed, raw and unfiltered.
"Prove it."
Harry knew he was sold, but needed the final push.
"Harry, think," Lupin urged, sensing the shift. "Since Sirius showed up in Hogsmeade, Scabbers has been dodging Ron like the plague. We've got a plan—Snape, Filch, and I. If Filch can flush Peter out, we'll nab him."
"Argus..."
The name eased Harry's tension. After that Three Broomsticks eavesdrop, Argus was his rock—the one he trusted implicitly. If Argus was in, this had to be legit.
Then his eyes flicked to Snape, groaning amid the wreckage. "Hold on—if you're all teaming up on Peter, why'd Snape grab Sirius? Isn't he with you?"
Lupin's face flushed awkwardly. How to explain Sirius and James's bullying, stealing Snape's crush? He'd nearly idolized James to Harry earlier; spilling the mess now would complicate everything.
Sirius cleared his throat. "Old grudge. Doesn't concern you."
"Mr. Potter," Snape drawled, rising from the shards, dust clinging to his robes. "Assaulting a professor at Hogwarts? You'll regret it—like your father, always resorting to cheap tricks."
"Oi, Snape!" Sirius bristled, snatching his wand and stepping in front of Harry. They wouldn't let the boy sour on James.
Lupin hesitated, then joined, wand raised—but still pleading. "Severus, same side here. No infighting."
"Ideal goal: all of you in Azkaban." Snape advanced, face a mask of ice.
One disarming charm wouldn't stop him. Harry refused to cower, pushing forward to stand with Sirius and Lupin.
The trio's stance hit Snape like a hex. For a heartbeat, time blurred. Back at Hogwarts: James and Sirius leading the charge, Lupin backing them, Pettigrew whooping from afar. Humiliation after humiliation before Lily—until those fatal words he'd never outrun.
Shadows darkened his eyes. He caressed his wand, voice a venomous whisper—to them, to himself. "After all these years... time to settle the score."
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