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chapter eleven. ( betrayal, the only thing that sticks )
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BEFORE SHE COULD CONTROL HERSELF, a fit of giggles erupted from Ascella's chesas the absurdity of the statement settled in."An Animagus?" she snorted, voicing what everyone was thinking. "You're having me on."
"Ridiculous!" exclaimed Hermione faintly.
"Peter Pettigrew's dead!" yelled Harry, furious at the accusation. "He killed him twelve years ago!" He pointed at Black, whose face twitched convulsively.
"I meant to," he growled, yellow teeth bared, "but little Peter got the better of me . . . but not this time, though!" Crookshanks was thrown to the floor as Black lunged at Scabbers; Ron yelled in pain as Black's weight fell on his injured leg.
"Sirius, NO!" Lupin yelled, launching himself forward and dragging Black away from Ron again, "WAIT! You can't do it just like that — they need to understand — we've got to explain —"
"We can explain afterwards!" snarled Black, trying to shove Lupin off. One hand was still clawing at the air, reaching for Scabbers, who was squealing like a little piglet, scratching Ron's face and neck as he tried to escape.
"They've — got — a — right — to — know — everything!" panted Lupin, still trying to restrain Black. "Ron kept him as a pet! There are parts of it that I don't even understand, and Harry — you owe Harry the truth, Sirius!"
Black stopped struggling, though his eyes were still latched onto Scabbers writhing figure, who was clamped under Ron's bitten, scratched, and bleeding hands. "All right, then," he said quietly. "Tell them whatever you like. But make it quick, Remus. I want to commit the murder I was imprisoned for . . ."
