Lupin nodded. "That's my guess."
"Dementors don't have eyes—they sense emotions through smell. Humans can't escape their detection, but animals can. Animagus transformation allows a person to shift not only physically but also emotionally and spiritually into an animal."
Harry gripped the amulet in his hand. It remained perfectly calm. "So, what's Black's Animagus form?"
Lupin hesitated, his face clouded with reluctance.
"Maybe you think Black is just a foolish man incapable of betrayal," Harry said, twirling Lupin's wand in his hand. "But what I know is that he's an extremely dangerous dark wizard."
"The Secret Keeper was him. He gave away my family's location."
"He confessed himself. He was imprisoned in Azkaban for thirteen years with indisputable evidence."
"I have to ensure my own safety."
"Professor Lupin, you understand what I mean."
Lupin's face darkened, and he let out a long sigh as he lowered his head. "Sirius Black's Animagus form is a large black dog."
"How fitting for a Dementor," Harry raised his eyebrow.
Dementors fed on happiness.
As Churchill once said, "Depression feels like a black dog that bites and won't let go." The black dog had long since become a universal metaphor for melancholy.
Lupin gave a dry explanation, "That's precisely why I didn't want Dumbledore to know."
"Thankfully, Harry, you still trust me on this matter."
"You know, being an unregistered Animagus… it's enough to send someone to Azkaban."
"And if—just if—Sirius Black isn't the traitor, this alone would be enough to send him right back to Azkaban."
"And if he goes back, it's over. Completely over."
"You should know how the Ministry works. Thirteen years have passed; everything is settled. Overturning a conviction would be a nightmare. It would expose their incompetence to the world."
"To them, even if he's innocent, Sirius Black must always remain guilty."
Harry froze for a moment.
Huh…
He had never considered this aspect before.
Lupin's explanation reminded him that Animagus transformations had to be registered with the Ministry.
And what was the Ministry like again?
The only thing Harry recalled about them was Scrimgeour's fifteen Galleons.
"You all knew how to become Animagi?" Harry lowered his hand from the amulet. It had remained perfectly calm, detecting no ill will. Feeling slightly reassured, he handed Lupin's wand back to him.
Lupin blinked before reaching out to take it. "The three of them managed it."
Memories began to surface. Lupin slumped back in his chair, tilting his head to stare at the ceiling, his tone tinged with nostalgia. "When they found out I was a werewolf, they didn't shun me. Instead, they chose to become my friends."
"And to keep me company during every full moon—the most painful time for me—they decided to study Animagus transformation."
"They were smart, hardworking, and lucky. All of them succeeded."
"Your father, James, could transform into a magnificent stag."
"Sirius, as I said, became a black dog."
"And Peter… well, he had always been inconspicuous. But even he managed to succeed. We teased him for his form—he turned into a rat. A rather small one. But deep down, he had the heart of a lion…"
Harry suddenly stood up, interrupting him. "Wait, what did you just say?"
Lupin jumped, startled. "I said Peter had the heart of a lion."
"No, the sentence before that," Harry shook his head.
Lupin looked confused. "Peter's Animagus form is a rat. Why?"
"What are its distinguishing features?" Harry asked urgently. "Any physical abnormalities?"
Lupin frowned in thought. "Peter was just small and slight… no physical issues."
"Are you sure?" Harry pressed. "For instance, missing a finger on his right hand?"
"His right hand?" Lupin's brow furrowed deeper. "Now that you mention it…"
He waved his wand, and a drawer slid open. An old, yellowing newspaper floated out and landed in Harry's hands.
"This is a report from thirteen years ago."
Harry looked at it.
The front page showed a massive, destroyed street—dark, shattered, and filled with smoke and debris. Bodies littered the ground. At the center stood Sirius Black, blank-faced, allowing the Aurors to restrain him.
The "hero" who had tried to stop Black, Peter Pettigrew, had been blown to pieces in the explosion. All that remained of him was a single finger from his right hand.
"It's truly a shocking story," Harry read aloud, his voice steady as he finished the report. "What kind of rat did Peter transform into? A field mouse, a hamster, or a garden rat?"
Lupin answered, "A garden rat."
"Then maybe Peter isn't dead," Harry said, looking up at Lupin, though his mind flashed to another image entirely.
Lupin leaned back, stunned. "Not dead? That's impossible! That explosion… he… he…"
"Have you realized something?"
Harry extended an invitation. "You haven't visited the Gryffindor common room in a long time, have you? Want to come with me and take a look?"
"Peter's Animagus form?" Lupin followed Harry out of the office, unable to hold back his curiosity.
Harry nodded. "Ron, the red-haired boy from the train, has a pet rat. A garden rat that's been alive for thirteen years and is missing a toe on its right paw."
"A normal rat doesn't live that long," Lupin said, frowning.
"Exactly," Harry agreed. "You've seen Crookshanks—that mixed-breed cat. It reacted very strongly to Ron's rat."
"Hermione and I guessed it might be an Animagus."
Lupin fell silent, processing the information.
"A garden rat. A missing toe. Thirteen years." Harry whistled softly. "Too many coincidences to ignore."
Lupin gripped his wand tightly, his expression conflicted. "But if Black was caught, Peter was the hero. He wouldn't need to hide."
"Unless…"
Harry interrupted him. "Think of the bright side. Maybe it's just a normal rat. Maybe it belonged to some older Weasley sibling, and Peter really is dead."
"But with so many coincidences, we'd better confirm it."
Lupin opened his mouth, hesitating before muttering, "You're far sharper than your father ever was."
"Is that a good thing? If Peter's alive, wouldn't that be better news?"
Harry turned back to look at him. "Do you prefer to believe Peter was the one who betrayed my father?"
Lupin froze mid-step, unable to answer.
"It seems your little group had its favorites," Harry said with a faint smile.
Lupin sighed deeply but remained silent.
"Was Black mute?" Harry asked suddenly.
Lupin shook his head. "No, he was very eloquent—talked circles around people."
"Did the explosion blow up his mouth?" Harry pressed.
Lupin blinked, confused. "No…"
"Then something doesn't add up." Harry lifted his amulet, still calm and silent. "If Sirius wasn't the traitor, he had a mouth and could speak. Why didn't he just say something?"
"Because of the illegal Animagus transformation—"
Harry cut him off. "Even if it's illegal, a few months in Azkaban followed by registering the ability is still far better than thirteen years in prison."
"Maybe he didn't have the brains for it," Lupin said after a long pause.
Harry smirked. "Exactly. How stupid would you have to be to not even defend yourself?"
Lupin had no answer to that.
"But if Sirius was the traitor and Ron's rat is Peter, why would Peter hide?" Harry continued.
"On the train and during the Welcoming Feast, my amulet vibrated. That malice didn't come from you."
"I trust Ron and Hermione. The malice could only have come from the fifth individual—Scabbers."
"But why would he have malice toward me? If he really is Peter Pettigrew?"
Lupin had no answers. He followed Harry in silence all the way to the Gryffindor common room.
"Can you cast a Disillusionment Charm?" Harry asked, stopping at the entrance.
Lupin nodded and raised his wand. "But why—"
"Come with me," Harry explained. "If Peter really is here, he'll sense something's wrong. If he hasn't escaped yet, it'll be easier to catch him if you're hidden."
Lupin gave Harry a grateful look.
In so many ways, Harry was just like James—except, thankfully, his mind worked more like Lily's.
Lupin waved his wand, and his form slowly blended into the background.
They climbed through the portrait hole.
Only Ron was there, sprawled out by the fireplace with a book.
"Where's Hermione?" Harry asked, looking around.
"She's gone to see Professor McGonagall," Ron replied, putting down the book. "Something about her timetable. She signed up for all the electives, but some of them overlap. She's asking how to fix it."
Harry reached into the Sorting Hat and pulled out a small vial of potion. Finding an excuse, he said, "Where's Scabbers? I ran into Hagrid earlier—he said a blood-replenishing potion might help him."
Ron didn't think twice about the oddity of meeting Hagrid on the way to the tower. He reached into his pocket—only to find it empty.
His heart skipped a beat.
"Scabbers?" Ron stood up quickly, rifling through his bag and robes, searching everywhere to no avail.
Panic rising, he marched straight over to Crookshanks, who was snoozing by the fireplace. Grabbing the cat's mouth, he tried to pry it open. "Did you eat him?!"
"Spit him out right now, you wicked cat!"
Crookshanks hissed, swiping at Ron's hand and leaving a shallow scratch. The two began to wrestle, Ron clearly losing without his wand.
"Crookshanks," Harry called calmly. "Come here. I need to ask you something."
The ginger cat froze mid-swipe, stepped delicately over Ron's shoulder, and strolled over to Harry with an air of dignity before hopping onto the table.
Ron, seething with frustration, followed suit. He glared at Crookshanks, his face a mix of anger and despair.
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Powerstones?
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