Harry stood over the small container, its smooth, unbreakable surface cold under his fingers. Inside, the stunned rat lay stiff and motionless—Peter Pettigrew, the traitor who had betrayed his parents. His wand hand was steady, but a cold, measured determination had settled over him.
He took a deep breath and began. "Animagora Revelio," he whispered, enunciating every syllable carefully. The spell was one he'd found in a book about animagus, a rare piece of Dark Magic that forcibly reversed an Animagus transformation. There had been warnings beside it—use with caution, dangerous for the subject, illegal without Ministry sanction. But Harry no longer cared about rules. Pettigrew didn't deserve their protection.
The rat shuddered, twisting unnaturally as its body convulsed, stretching and reshaping until, with a sickening crack, Peter Pettigrew lay sprawled on the floor, still unconscious but fully human.
Harry regarded him with cold detachment. He had no pity left for the man who had handed his parents over to Voldemort. He raised his wand again and muttered, "Vincula Maledicta." Thin, black ropes burst from his wand, binding Pettigrew's wrists, ankles, and torso. These weren't ordinary ropes. They were cursed—Harry had learned the spell from a dark tome he'd found hidden in the Restricted Section. If Pettigrew even thought about using magic, the ropes would constrict, inflicting pain and rendering any spell-casting impossible.
He gave the bindings a final, scrutinizing glance before raising his wand. "Rennervate."
Pettigrew stirred, blinking bleary eyes that widened in terror as they focused on Harry. "P-please—" he stammered.
Harry's voice was cold and even. "Save your breath, Wormtail. I'm not here for your excuses. I want the truth. And this time, you're going to give it to me."
He pulled a small vial from his pocket—Veritaserum, shimmering faintly in the torchlight. Pettigrew's eyes darted between Harry's face and the vial, his breathing quickening.
"N-no—Harry, please—don't make me—" he babbled, his voice cracking with desperation. "I—I'll tell you whatever you want! Please, just—just don't—"
"You know what this is. You're going to drink it. And then you're going to answer my questions—every single one of them. Try to fight it, and those ropes will tighten. Try to transform, and I'll force you back again. There's nowhere to run this time."
He uncorked the vial and, with a practiced flick of his wand, forced Pettigrew's mouth open. "Drink," he commanded.
As the potion slid down Pettigrew's throat, Harry's expression remained unreadable, his eyes sharp and unflinching.
Harry raised his wand, his voice low and steady. "We'll start with the basics, Wormtail. Answer every question. Try to resist, and the ropes will make sure you regret it."
Pettigrew gave a trembling nod, the potion compelling him to obedience.
Harry drew a breath, his voice calm. "State your full name."
"Peter Pettigrew."
Harry's jaw tightened slightly. "Did you work for Voldemort?"
"Yes."
Harry's eyes hardened. "Tell me exactly what happened the night Sirius Black was convicted."
Pettigrew's breath hitched, but the Veritaserum kept him talking. "Sirius found me in my hiding place—cornered me. I… I transformed and blew up the street, killed all those Muggles. Cut off my finger. Framed Sirius—made it look like he killed me. Then I escaped as a rat."
Harry's expression remained unchanged. "Why did you join Voldemort in the first place?"
Pettigrew's voice came in a low, shuddering whisper. "I was… I was afraid. Voldemort was powerful. I thought he would win. I wanted to be on the winning side."
Harry's tone remained clinical. "What exactly did you do while you worked for Voldemort?"
"I… I spied on the Order. Passed information—about the Potters, about Dumbledore's movements. I… I found people for Voldemort to recruit. Helped with… with the Dark Mark rituals. I—I found ways to sabotage the Ministry."
Harry's eyes narrowed. "How many Death Eaters do you know personally?"
Pettigrew swallowed. "Only a few. I was… I was Voldemort's secret—he kept me hidden. I knew Snape, Lucius Malfoy, Bellatrix Lestrange. Macnair, maybe a few others. But not many. Voldemort didn't want anyone knowing about me."
Harry's expression hardened. "What did Voldemort want with the Potters? Why were they his target?"
Pettigrew's eyes filled with terror. "There was—there was a prophecy—he believed Harry was the one who could destroy him."
Harry's hand trembled at that—so it was true. But he forced himself to remain calm.
Harry's voice, cold as steel: "Do you know anything about Voldemort's attempts to return?"
Pettigrew's voice faltered. "N-no—he was gone after Halloween—no one knew where he went. Some said he was dead."
Harry's gaze never wavered. "Did you ever hear any plans from Voldemort about returning?"
Pettigrew whimpered. "He—he talked about ways to survive—he—he wanted to find a way back, but—I don't know the details—"
Harry's wand lowered fractionally, but his expression remained hard. "We're not done, Pettigrew. We're only getting started."
Harry watched as Pettigrew's voice slowed, the effects of the Veritaserum gradually fading. The rat-faced man sagged in his bonds, his eyes darting around in panic.
"P-please, Harry—" Pettigrew's voice was hoarse, desperate. "I—I was forced! Voldemort—he—he threatened to kill me!"
Harry's expression remained cold, detached. "Save it, Wormtail. I'm not here to forgive you."
Pettigrew whimpered, but Harry ignored him, his mind already shifting gears. Legilimency. Pettigrew's mind would be a treasure trove of secrets—hidden plans, locations.
But Legilimency isn't just reading a book, Harry reminded himself grimly. It's like forcing a door open in someone's head. Too rough, and you might shatter them. Too gentle, and they might resist or hide things.
Harry's eyes narrowed. He needed to be careful—if he damaged Pettigrew's mind too badly, he'd lose the chance to get more information later. And he still needed him for other plans.
"Don't think I'm done with you," Harry said, his voice flat and cold. "You're going to stay right here until I'm ready for you again."
Pettigrew's eyes widened with terror. "Harry—please—I can help you! I—I know things—"
Harry's lips curled into a thin smile. "Oh, I know you do. That's why you're still breathing."
He turned away, his mind already racing. Legilimency will take time to master. But first, I have to keep Pettigrew here, under control. And then, when I'm ready, I'll go into that traitorous mind and drag out every secret he has.
He raised his wand once more, his voice cold and precise. "Animagora Inversus."
Pettigrew's eyes widened in terror as his body twisted and shrank, fur sprouting from his skin, whiskers sprouting from his face. In an instant, the rat lay trembling where the man had been.
Harry regarded the creature with cold detachment. With a slight flick of his fingers, he summoned his wandless magic—a skill he'd honed through countless hours of practice. The rat rose gently into the air, suspended by an invisible force, and hovered obediently toward the waiting container.
Harry guided it inside with precise control, the container snapping shut with a soft click. "Not going anywhere," he muttered under his breath.
He slipped the container into his extended pouch—a carefully enchanted pouch that could hold far more than it appeared and was nearly impossible to open without his consent. Even if Pettigrew tried to transform back into a human, the container's magical lock would hold him.
Satisfied, Harry patted the pouch and straightened up, his expression cold and resolute.