He heard the snap of a branch behind him, and whirled around, only to find the ever-present darkness and the looming trees. He paused, looking around, his rat-like nose sniffing the air for a sign of danger, but he couldn't pick any scents up.
But Peter Pettigrew knew something still wasn't right.
He had been fleeing east for weeks now, fleeing from the wrath of his master's servants…or at least, those who hadn't been caught yet. Sometimes in his animagus form, sometimes in his human, he stayed in wooded or covered areas and avoided any contact with anyone. He'd been surviving on the meager things he could steal or catch, and he knew he was losing strength by the day.
He left because he couldn't bear it. He knew that Potter and his friends were getting closer, that they had already destroyed three of the Horcruxes, which meant there was only one left. If his master fell, Peter knew that there would be no hope for him, no chance at freedom. Only the rest of a lifetime spent in a dank cell, death, or something even worse. So he had done the only thing he could; the only thing he had known how to do. While his master had been busy seeing to other affairs, he fled.
It was a virtual certainty that once the Dark Lord realized this, he would send his servants after him, so Peter barely rested for days, hearing every noise as the inevitable sound of his doom.
Then came the day when the metal hand his master had made for him disappeared, and Peter knew: he was gone. Potter had won. Instead of relief that he wouldn't be hunted by the Dark Lord's servants anymore, he was now racked with worry about the others coming to find him. It wouldn't take long to reveal that he had escaped, and then every Auror that could be spared would probably be after him. Potter would see to that.
No rest for the weary, he thought abysmally. Or was it wicked?
Peter came across a stream and took a moment to catch his breath and look around. The forest he was in was misty and he could tell it was very green, despite the darkness. The moon hung high in the sky, casting shadows everywhere; shadows that Peter had a sickly feeling were watching him.
He heard another snap behind him, and turned again, but still nothing. If he was paying attention in front of him, he might have noticed a faint rustle in the bushes, as if something was quietly moving through them. As it was, it wasn't until he heard splashes in the water coming towards him that he began to panic. Was someone throwing rocks in the water?
He backed away slowly, until his back met with something solid. A tree? Weren't the trees further back? He looked behind and saw that the nearest trees were at least a meter or two away. What was he up against then?
Suddenly he heard the sound of breathing and looked up, and from out of nowhere, a shadow seemed to materialize. A shadow with black eyes.
Peter yelped and ran forward again, only to see another shadow take form, with the same eyes. He scampered about, but they just kept appearing out of the trees; creatures that looked like giant apes. They were all about him.
He tried for one last gap in the closing ring but tripped, and they suddenly were upon him. He felt their iron tight grips on his arms and legs, but all he could see was the dark pool that was their eyes. As they picked him up, he let out a scream of terror that nobody heard.
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Harry watched as the Demiguise led Pettigrew to the chair of the accused, a mixture of pity and anger swirling in him.
At first Harry almost didn't recognize Pettigrew. He looked far thinner than Harry remembered and smaller too, like he had collapsed into himself. His face, so similar to a rat's, was sunken in and pale, and his thin wisps of hair were wildly unkempt. There appeared to be some bruises on his face, and Harry wondered where he'd gotten them. His eyes were watering and his hands were shaking. The word "broken" suddenly popped into Harry's mind, and it seemed the best word to describe Pettigrew now.
Ripples of muttered disgust went through the court. Hermione looked horrified, but Harry could see the sadness in her eyes, and for a moment, the pity inside him won over the anger. He just looked so run-down and old, and Harry couldn't imagine the things he'd been put through serving Voldemort.
But just thinking about Voldemort snapped Harry out of the sympathetic mood he was in. He pushed those feelings away with revulsion, and remembered that this man, this vile, evil man had been the one who brought Voldemort back to life, and who had taken away his parents all those years ago. No, he thought to himself. I have no pity for you.
Out of the corner of his eye he saw Hermione giving him a concerned look, but he ignored it. This is what he had come here for.
At last Pettigrew was chained to the chair, and one of the Demiguises moved to the door, and instantly disappeared, and the other drifted back behind Pettigrew and did likewise. Scrimgeour banged his gavel down and all sound in the room was instantly cut off.
"It's time to start," he said in a serious tone, his piercing eyes scanning the crowd. The Court Scribe took out his quill and waited on what Scrimgeour would say next.
"We're here today, the twentieth of July, for the trial of one Peter Pettigrew, who has been charged with several very serious offenses against the Wizarding world, not the least of which include murder, treason, and conspiring with the deceased criminal Voldemort." Scrimgeour then went on to name the Interrogators and the Court Scribe, but didn't say anything about a witness for the defense.
Hermione must have noticed this too, because her face took on a steely look, and Harry could tell she was angry.
Pettigrew didn't even look up during this speech; however, he flinched notably at "the deceased criminal, Voldemort."
Scrimgeour continued on. "Mr. Pettigrew, do you understand the charges that have been laid against you?"
Pettigrew nodded, but only just, like his head was too heavy to lift.
"Good," Scrimgeour said with barely concealed relish. "It is also my duty to inform you Mr. Pettigrew, so that you completely understand, that this trial has no possibility of ending in your release. I'm afraid the list of charges against you, their severity and your propensity to conspiring with our enemies, firmly rules out any chance of releasing you."
Pettigrew barely chocked back a sob, and his shoulders shook. Again a strong surge of pity welled up in Harry as he watched him try to contain his emotion.
"This is ridiculous!" Hermione said, her face red with anger. "What's the point of even having a trial if Scrimgeour already knows the verdict before he starts? And Pettigrew doesn't even have a defense, which is guaranteed to a defendant in a case like this."
"Maybe no one wanted to defend him," Harry volunteered quietly, unable to shake the feeling that Hermione may be right.
"That's not the point," Hermione said. "It's not fair. He should at least have a chance to defend himself."
Their conversation was cut short by Scrimgeour suddenly speaking up again.
"No, Mr. Pettigrew, the reason for this hearing is to decide on a punishment suitable to your crimes, which as previously stated are very serious indeed. I have documents in which several captured Death Eaters named you as the key individual in bringing Voldemort back," he said holding up a maroon folder. "I have already shown them to some of my fellow judges, and rest assured that the testimony it contains is quite damning."
Harry looked at Lupin who had a deep frown on his face, and Harry wondered if he was one of the judges who had seen the documents. From the faint smile on Snape's lips, Harry had no doubts he had seen them.
To Harry's surprise, instead of going over the documents like protocol demanded, Scrimgeour set the file down and started leveling another charge against him. Hermione nearly choked when he did this, but Harry just put a hand on her leg to quiet her and so he could hear what Scrimgeour was saying.
"We also have the eye-witness testimony from Harry Potter, as reported by one Rita Skeeter three years ago, who witnessed not only your part in the resurrection of Voldemort, but also the murder of one Cedric Diggory."
Several heads in the room turned towards Harry, and he suddenly felt both embarrassed an angry. I defeated Voldemort; I did my part, he thought bitterly to himself. Stop dragging me through all this.
Scrimgeour looked at Harry too and nodded, but suddenly, in a barely audible voice Pettigrew started saying, "The Dark Lord forced…"
Scrimgeour banged his gavel, instantly cutting him off. "You will have a chance to speak in a moment, Mr. Pettigrew. Please refrain from doing so until then. I also have received testimony from various sources that you had a hand in planning several of the more deadly attacks on both wizards and Muggles, including the raid on this very building two years ago."
At this, Pettigrew looked up, surprise and disbelief playing across his face. "Me? I didn't plan any…"
Scrimgeour raised his voice and said, "In a moment, Mr. Pettigrew, as I just said. Remain silent until then."
Hermione was looking angrier and angrier, and Harry had a feeling she was going to burst if this kept up.
"In fact, Mr. Pettigrew," Scrimgeour said, his voice getting louder with each word, "it is not unreasonable to lay the deaths of many, if not all, of the War at your feet, since you were the one responsible for bringing Voldemort back!"
Hermione's hands balled into fists at this and even Harry had to admit this was pushing it. The scattered whispers throughout the crowd meant that they certainly weren't the only two who thought this.
Pettigrew was trying to talk again, saying something about "all the deaths?" with a look of utter confusion on his face, and Scrimgeour was about to slam the gavel down again when Lupin spoke up.
"Sir, I think you've leveled enough charges for the moment. Perhaps we should allow the defendant to speak now."
Scrimgeour gave Lupin a hard glance before sighing, and saying, "Very well. Mr. Pettigrew, you may present any defense you wish to at this point."
Harry caught Pettigrew giving his old classmate a grateful glance, a glance Lupin acknowledged but didn't return.
Now that he had the chance to speak, Pettigrew started fumbling with his words, the pressure of the eyes of the room bearing down on him.
"The Dark Lo…or, Voldemort, sir, has…had!..many powers and…I didn't want to, he made me…I never really had any friends, except for a few and…he promised that…"
Scrimgeour rolled his eyes as Pettigrew spoke, and it was certainly nothing that Harry hadn't heard before. The fact that Pettigrew would try to use his parents and Sirius as a defense stirred the anger he had been hiding, and he felt himself losing his empathetic feelings for Pettigrew. He'd been there when he'd first been revealed by Sirius and knew that he would use any excuse to get out; on that night he'd pleaded with Sirius, Lupin, Ron, Hermione and himself for forgiveness, using a different excuse for each. His teeth ground at the memory and the fact that Pettigrew was trying the same thing again.
Harry looked at Hermione, who, to his surprise, actually seemed moved by his words, and he could see the pity in her eyes. Harry marveled that despite all they had been through, she still maintained that innocence and purity that he had found so comforting all these years. She must have felt his eyes on her, because she suddenly turned and looked at him too. For a moment they looked at each other, one with pity, the other anger, before the sound of Scrimgeour's gavel whipped their heads back around.
"That's enough Mr. Pettigrew. If that is all the defense you have to present, the Interrogators and I shall retire for a brief moment to the hallway to decide your punishment. While we are gone, no one is permitted to leave the room," he said, and with that the five judges stood up and filed out of the room, which immediately was filled with the sound of conversation. Pettigrew just hung his head again and didn't make a sound.
"Well that was short," Harry said as he turned to a fuming Hermione.
"Short!" she exclaimed, startling the people around her. "That was a joke! Pettigrew didn't even get a chance to defend himself. He was so flustered by all that bullocks from Scrimgeour that he didn't know what to say. `All the deaths can be put at your feet!' I can't believe that! You can't blame him for everything that happened during the war!"
Part of Harry couldn't help but agree with her. It did seem like an awfully short time to give someone a chance to defend themselves when they had as much to answer for as Pettigrew did, but he wasn't nearly as outraged as Hermione seemed to be. On the other hand, what defense could Pettigrew give? Harry didn't see any point in dragging out a trial where there was really no chance of freedom. Might as well get it over with and give him what he had coming.
Harry was about to say something when the door opened at the Interrogators and Scrimgeour returned to the room.
Hermione gave Harry a sarcastic look and mouthed the words "well, that was short." Harry nodded, and turned an anxious ear to the judges as they sat down and Scrimgeour banged the gavel, silencing the room.
"We have reached our decision, and Interrogator Severus Snape will read our decision."
Harry felt the heat rise in him as Snape stood up and addressed the crowd.
"The Wizengamot has decided that Peter Pettigrew shall be sentenced to death by…"
There were a few muttered comments made, but no one seemed surprised by the ruling. Harry noticed that Pettigrew was shaking, and tears were leaking from his eyes. Harry stole a brief look at Hermione, who looked furious, before he listened as Snape finished.
"…by a wizard's hand."
The room erupted into whispers and surprised looks. Pettigrew suddenly sat up straight, a horrified look on his face. Hermione let out a frightened gasp and Harry looked around curiously.
"What's the big deal?" Harry asked the still-rattled Hermione quietly. "With the Dementors gone, it's not like the Dementor's Kiss is an option."
Hermione looked at Harry with wide eyes.
"Harry, an execution by a wizard is almost never done. It hasn't been done for years! There is no greater disgrace than being killed by a fellow wizard, who has been sanctioned to do so. It is a pure, utter humiliation for the condemned and from what I've read, hell on the one who has to do it as well. They used to do it a lot in the Middle Ages, but it drove too many wizards insane, so they stopped doing it. I can't believe they're bringing it back!"
Harry hadn't realized all of this, but as he glanced at all the shocked faces, it seemed he was the only one who didn't know about it. Harry suddenly looked at Lupin, who looked extremely upset and pale. Oh no, Harry thought. They're going to make him do it. He's the last of the friends that Pettigrew had, and they're going to make him do it. Harry noticed Snape was still standing, and seemed incredibly calm. I'll bet that was his suggestion, he thought acidly.
Scrimgeour banged the gavel loudly several times before everyone finally quieted down, and then he looked at Snape and nodded for him to continue.
"The wizard selected to do this is Harry Potter."
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