Sirius felt Harry start to tense and he eased away from the hug he'd pulled his son into as soon as Harry had entered Amelia's office.
"Alright?" Sirius asked, resisting the temptation to smooth back Harry's hair.
Harry nodded.
"I'm…"
"Don't apologise." Harry interrupted him sharply. "You asked me in the Summer and I said I didn't want to know. Bootle's a prick for announcing it like that in the trial."
"Well, that's true enough." Sirius said.
"He was always an odious little boy." Minerva agreed.
"How…" Remus let his voice fall away as though suddenly realising Harry might not want to answer the question.
"Snape's fine." Harry shrugged. "Shaken up, maybe? Moody was on his way in so…"
So at least Severus wasn't alone. Not that Sirius cared. Much.
He sighed. He and Severus had evolved a mutual grudging respect during the run-up to defeating Voldemort and, while Sirius would never forgive him for what he had done in the past, it didn't mean he was dancing with joy over the man's most dirty and painful laundry being aired for the world to see.
Bootle was a prick.
Harry had been stoic during the trial; pale after the revelation but stoic. It hadn't been until they'd gotten clear of the chamber that he'd insisted on seeing Severus. Still, the meeting seemed to have given Harry some peace and that was all that was important to Sirius.
Especially since the afternoon trial would focus on Peter.
Sirius felt Harry lean into him a touch and he glanced over at his son.
"We can get through this." Harry said quietly.
Sirius nodded. They would get through it. They were together; they could get through anything.
o-O-o
Peter tried hard not to look at anyone as he was led into the Wizengamot chamber. He kept his head down and stared at his feet. The urge to transform into his rat form was high but even if the charmed necklace he wore prevented it, he couldn't do it. Losing his hand had interfered with his animagus ability. The loss was a physical ache worse than his arm.
He allowed himself to be shuffled into the accused chair. It was then he glanced up at the chamber and saw Harry.
Harry, who had defeated the Dark Lord.
Peter swallowed hard and forced himself to pay attention.
"…with conspiracy to commit the murders of James and Lily Potter; with conspiracy to commit infanticide…"
Peter ducked his head. He stopped listening. He didn't want to hear the litany of the charges they were reciting. He knew them all. His solicitor Giles Dotts had gone through them with him the day before. It had been a depressing hour.
"How does the accused plead?"
Dotts rose from the defence table. "Guilty to all charges."
A rush of noise erupted from the public tier.
The Chief Witch raised her wand and set off a small bang to bring order to the chamber. "Enough." She looked at Peter with sharply assessing eyes. "You do understand, Mister Pettigrew, the consequences of pleading guilty?"
"I…I…I do." Peter stuttered out.
The witch looked from him to his solicitor.
"I have been through the possible sentences he may incur, Chief Witch, and he understands that he may be sentenced for the remainder of his life to Azkaban or face execution." Dotts said solemnly.
"Do you agree, Mister Pettigrew, that you fully understand the sentences that may be brought to bear once the chamber recognises your plea and ratifies that any further examination of the evidence is not required?" She pressed.
Peter nodded hurriedly. "I am guilty."
But deep down, he also believed that he had done enough to mitigate a death sentence. With the Dementors removed from Azkaban, he could live with a cell, a bed and a hot meal every day. It was more than he'd had once he'd gone in search of his master.
"I…I have a statement…" Peter began.
The witch held up her hand in a silent request for him to wait. "Head Auror, are you satisfied with the plea?"
Scrimgeour glared at Peter in a way that made Peter want to shrink back from him.
"I believe the evidence would speak for itself in this case." Scrimgeour said gruffly. "However, I also believe that his plea would save the Wizengamot valuable time and reduce the stress on potential witnesses. I am satisfied."
"Director Bones?" The witch turned to the Head of the DMLE. "Are you satisfied?"
Bones rose from her chair to respond. "I would support a motion to recognise and move to sentencing, Lady Marchbanks."
"Then that's what we'll do." Marchbanks said crisply. "All in favour, raise your wands."
Dullard, the clerk, rose soon after. "The vote is unanimous. The Wizengamot recognises the defendant has pled guilty and will move to sentencing."
"Head Auror," Marchbanks said turning back to Scrimgeour, "what is the recommendation of the prosecution?"
Scrimgeour got to his feet and tapped his finger against a piece of parchment. "The prosecution recommends execution for his crimes."
Peter felt his heart start to race; his mouth went dry. That wasn't supposed to happen! He didn't deserve death! He'd helped them!
"This is a wizard who betrayed his friends in the worst possible way. He conspired for months against them, providing information to the enemy. He was entrusted with a secret which he promptly gave to the enemy. He conspired to ensure their deaths and the death of their child. In the aftermath, he conspired to frame another friend for their murder and, while others also bear responsibility for the injustice, it led to an innocent man being imprisoned for over a decade." Scrimgeour recited.
"This is a man who hid himself as a rat for years until confronted by those he had betrayed. He ran again, this time to his master who he helped kill and torture an innocent child in the act of creating an homunculus. He helped Riddle and his cohorts kill Bertha Jorkins, Bartemius Crouch Senior, Janice Mickle, and countless others. He conspired to resurrect Riddle; to sabotage the TriWizard tournament, to kidnap Lord Potter and use him within a ritual; to kill Lord Potter and attack Hogwarts."
Scrimgeour glared at Peter again.
"This is the truth of the man; a cowardly rat who would stab his friends in the back and cut their throats in their sleep if it served him, yet turn around and try to wheedle his way into their good graces if he thought it would serve his best interests. He has no moral compass, no redeeming traits. He should face the harshest sentence we can bring to bear."
Peter watched as Scrimgeour took his seat. He glanced up towards Harry. Harry's gaze seem directed above Peter's head and Peter realised that Harry was looking at Sirius. Peter didn't dare look towards Padfoot.
"Mister Pettigrew," Marchbanks called for his attention, "you said you had a statement? Now would be the time to read it."
Peter nodded hurriedly and gestured at his solicitor who passed him the parchment. He smoothed it out and cleared his throat.
"I…" Peter lowered the parchment, turning it over to hide the words. It was too trite; too rote. He cleared his throat a second time. "When I was eleven I sat on a stool and placed the Sorting Hat on my head to determine my house at Hogwarts. I thought I'd end up in Slytherin or Hufflepuff. My father's family had been the ones to secure my place there and they had been Hufflepuffs. But my mother was an ambitious woman who married well and who raised me to believe survival in life was paramount."
He didn't look up at the faces. He kept his eyes on his hands, still cuffed and clasped in front of him, resting on the discarded parchment.
"It was a shock to be sorted into Gryffindor. I didn't think I was particularly brave or courageous in nature." Peter continued. "The Hat told me I would find my courage there." He swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry. "And I did. I found my courage in the friendship with three other wonderful boys. Together we seemed invincible." He paused, lifting his eyes for the first time but staring sightlessly into the past, oblivious to the people around him. "Then we left school and we went our separate ways. Well, Moony and I…we went into different things. I ended up at the Ministry."
In hindsight, he wished he'd taken on McGonagall's remonstrations to smarten up his academics; he might have made it into the Hit Wizard programme if he had.
"My first supervisor was Dennis Travers Senior. He was a Death Eater and he…he intimidated me into joining." Peter babbled out. "I should have told someone when he approached me but I was scared and alone and…it was easier to go along with him, easier to say yes to the Dark Lord than say no and be killed or tortured! I was a coward but then I didn't think of it as betraying them. As a spy I helped save my friends and kept them out of the line of fire."
There was a murmur, a rush of whispering that pulled Peter from the past. He shook himself a touch.
"Then came the prophecy and the secret and…I was weak." Peter admitted. "I should have refused to tell the Dark Lord where James and Lily were; I should have stood up for my friends as they would have stood for me. Or as Sirius said to me when we faced each other last year, I should have died for them as they would have died for me." He paused, the silence of the room loud in his ears; condemning. "But I…I just wanted to survive; just survive. And so I led the Dark Lord to James and Lily, and when Harry hurt him, I framed Sirius to prevent him from arresting me. I hid away and when I was finally found out, I ran back to the Dark Lord and I helped resurrect him; helped commit crimes to help him. Because I wanted to survive. It's pathetic and cowardly and yet, it's all the excuse I have."
He gave a sad short laugh. "The only time I found my courage again was standing beside Moony in the corridor at Hogwarts facing down the mercenaries and vampires as though they were a group of Slytherins and we were once again school-children. Because that's where my courage always was; right beside them and I forgot that."
Peter paused for a breath. "I think I helped save Moony. I think I helped there at the end. Maybe…one last act isn't enough to make up for everything else. All I know is that I don't want to die."
His fingers tightened on the parchment and crumpled it.
"That's…that's all I have."
There was complete silence.
"Does anyone wish to debate?" Marchbanks asked, her question dropping like a stone into the tension.
Ogden raised his wand. "This is difficult." He said. "We all know that Pettigrew's crimes are far-reaching and wide in their impact and their atrocity, yet…" he sighed heavily and looked over at Sirius. "I don't believe I'm the only one, Lord Black, who feels that the only people in this room who should have the right to determine Pettigrew's fate are you, your son and your steward. You and Lord Potter's parents were his friends and he betrayed you. There is no sharper knife in your back; no deadlier poison to counter than that of an enemy who wears the face of a friend and who lies unknown at the heart of your family. I feel utterly unqualified to make any kind of judgement without knowing for certain which action would bring you the most sense of justice." He held up a hand. "I know that it's unfair of me to ask but I…I will ask anyway and hope you forgive me."
Augusta Longbottom raised her wand. "I too regret placing this burden on Lord Black, but I feel the same."
A third wand went up.
Marchbanks raised her hand and turned to Sirius. "Lord Black? It is not unusual in these cases for the Wizengamot to request the opinion of those most affected by the crimes of the perpetrator."
Sirius's gaze went first across the chamber and Peter ducked his head to hide from the intense look his old friend exchanged with Harry.
There was a rustle of fabric and Peter looked up again in time to see Sirius rise from his chair.
"I appreciate the sensitivity here and the opportunity to speak." Sirius began. "As much as we don't like to say the words," he glanced back to Harry, "we are victims of Pettigrew's crimes; his decisions and actions. He betrayed us and took away the people we loved the most. He ran from facing the consequences of his actions and I ended up in Azkaban, and when he ran a second time, he ran straight to his master and set in motion a chain of events where more and more people were killed or hurt. But this is about more than myself and Harry; more than myself and Remus Lupin. Were Pettigrew's acts against us the worst crimes? I'm not sure the parents of the child he kidnapped for Riddle to live in would say that." He shook his head. "Are any of us truly qualified to render judgement on such a heinous act?"
A wand was raised and Marchbanks recognised the wizard who stood as Sirius sat.
"Lord Black raises a good point." Selwyn pinned Peter with a contemptuous look. "The actions of Peter Pettigrew are wider than himself and Lord Potter. He had a devastating impact on the wizarding world in the actions he took. We should not shirk our duty to sit in judgement upon him. But one could argue that we are all too affected by Pettigrew's actions to be objective. There is practically no-one in the wizarding world who isn't." He gestured towards the Chief Witch, "With that said, I do not believe we are the right body to sit in judgement, and if I may I have a suggestion for a third option to those of execution and life imprisonment?"
Marchbanks lifted an eyebrow but nodded.
"Pettigrew broke oath." Selwyn said bluntly. "I suggest we vote for the family magic of us sitting in this body to sit in judgement upon Pettigrew. Let Magic itself render Judgement." He sat down.
There was a stirring of whispers and Peter's heart sank. He squirmed in his chair, uneasy and uncertain of which way he wanted the vote to go.
Marchbanks stood up, capturing everyone's attention. "This is a difficult. You have all spoken with sincerity and honesty. I personally feel Lord Selwyn's suggestion has merit. I can call Judgement if this is what is required. I call for a vote; those who wish to enact Lord Selwyn's motion raise your wands."
The wands went up.
Peter's heart beat wildly in his chest.
Dullard counted the wands and turned to the Chief Witch. "The motion is carried. Judgement will be rendered."
A babble of noise broke out and Peter lowered his gaze, sick to his stomach with fear. The Lestranges had lost their lives; was that to be his fate?
Marchbanks hushed the crowd and turned to him. "Peter Pettigrew, you have pled guilty to your many crimes. We ask Magic to call Judgement upon you so you may face justice. Familius magicus animus!"
The Marchbanks' avatar, a gold hare, shimmered into view; sparkling with gold. It stood on its hind legs sniffed the air and jumped – changing into a stream of gold magic which rushed upwards and out toward Harry.
Peter wondered at it for a long moment but he registered Sirius's hurried stand even as Harry rose to greet the Hare as it reformed and bowed to the griffin sitting at Harry's feet.
The gold griffin shifted and there was an audible gasp as the griffin disappeared and the form of a man took its place; James.
The gold spirit of James Potter reached out and cupped his son's cheek. "We're so proud of you, Harry." He glanced at the silver Black snake and at the hare. "Guard my son."
The avatars bowed to James.
The spirit turned to the Wizengamot, his eyes only seeking one wizard. "Padfoot."
Peter reluctantly dragged his attention away from James to look back at Sirius. He was pale – his features etched with grief and loss.
"Prongs." Sirius murmured, the rough word echoing across the chamber.
James looked over then to where Moony sat in the family tier; amber eyes bright. "Moony." He gestured with his head. "Join me and Pads on the floor." And a moment later he transformed into a stream of gold magic and rushed down to the centre.
Peter pressed back into his chair as the magic gathered in front of him – a whirlwind of gold. It settled back into James's familiar form. "Prongs…"
"You don't get to call me that, Wormtail." James replied immediately as he turned impatiently to see where Padfoot and Moony were at.
The other two Marauders finally reached them.
James reached out to Moony first, a hand clasped onto his friend's shoulder. "You always did get the difficult jobs and I've left you the most difficult of all; keeping Pads out of trouble."
Moony laughed and reached up to pat James's shoulder. "I miss you, Prongs." He shook his head. "And you'd be just as bad if you were here. You always got each other in trouble after all."
James smiled; the same wonderfully warm smile he'd used to give Peter. "Look after them, Moony."
Moony nodded.
James turned to Sirius next and the pain on both their faces was heart-wrenching. Peter could barely look as James reached out and enfolded Sirius into a hug; as Sirius melted into the ethereal embrace.
"My brother." James murmured lowly, but it wasn't low enough and Peter saw its impact as it travelled to the rest of the chamber in the bright eyes and quiet sniffs.
It was a long moment before they stepped away from each other, exchanging a silent look of communication which Peter remembered all too well from school and which never boded well for the target of their ire. They looked over in unison to Remus and something was determined; an action, a decision – Peter's fate.
The three Marauders turned to face him and the years, where they were, why they were there bled away until all that remained in Peter's eyes were his three friends, accusatory looks levelled at him; no, levelled at Wormtail.
"Wormtail." Prongs began. "As a wizard and a Marauder, you are hereby Judged as Oathbreaker and given to the Marauders for justice." He lifted his hand and inside of it was a gold rat. "Your animagus ability. The act that bound us together as brothers."
"I thought that was the pranks, Prongs." Padfoot said laconically beside him.
"I thought it was the bottles of whiskey." Moony countered.
Prongs shot them both a look.
Wormtail tried hard not to hyperventilate but he was barely breathing. He realised absently he couldn't feel the suppression necklace he had been wearing.
"Magic casts you out," Prongs intoned clearly, "but for this last act, one last prank from the Marauders."
Moony smiled wolfishly. "You hid as a rat and now you will live as a rat."
"Only as a rat." Padfoot stressed with a smirk. "No magic to change back into a wizard; just a rat for all the rest of your days."
"With the lifespan of a rat." Prongs agreed.
"What is that again, Moony?" Padfoot tilted his head.
"Two to three years." Moony responded cheerfully. "Unless a cat gets him or a snake."
Wormtail shuddered. "Please, please, please?" He begged. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry for everything but I was scared!" Tears escaped and ran down his face; snot gathered and dripped from his nose as he sobbed.
His three friends looked at him stonily unmoved.
"You were once a Marauder; a friend we trusted before all others with blood and spirit and magic." Prongs stated evenly. "You are a Marauder no more, Wormtail. All you are is a rat, Oathbreaker."
Wormtail felt the magic starting to crawl over his skin. "NO! NO! Moony! Please?! Didn't I help you?"
"You were once a Marauder and so for every time this past year you have helped us truly in the spirit of a Marauder with blood and spirit and magic, you'll live another year." Moony smiled, amber eyes glowing as he smiled wolfishly. "You are a Marauder no more, Wormtail. All you are is a rat, Oathbreaker."
Wormtail felt the magic press in on him, tingles on the ends of his fingers and in his scalp. He turned to Padfoot, helpless and already knowing he would find no mercy there.
"You were once a Marauder but you drove a dagger into the spirit and magic of us and left us only blood." Padfoot replied a harsh edge of anger colouring his voice. "You are a Marauder no more, Wormtail. All you are is a rat, Oathbreaker."
"Judgement is served." Prongs intoned gently. He smiled sadly at the others. "Mischief managed."
The form fell into a million gold sparkles and reformed as the Potter griffin.
And the pain hit Wormtail and the world disappeared…
Peter came to; he was panting, surrounded by material. He scrabbled his way up into air, hurrying, hurrying…
An invisible force reached down and plucked him up, levitating him above his clothes and the chair where he'd been sat.
Scrimgeour's florid face appeared in front of him. "Don't worry, Rat. You'll have a nice cage waiting for you in Azkaban."
He shook in his rat form, terrified and vulnerable. He could feel the absence of his magic like a yawning chasm in the centre of his body. He couldn't change! He was trapped, trapped, trapped…
It was over.
He was a Marauder no more.