Towers - Fred Weasley

17

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"THERE'S ENOUGH FILTH ON MY ROBES WITHOUT YOU TOUCHING THEM." said Black.

"Remus!" Pettigrew squeaked, turning to Lupin instead, writhing imploringly in front of him. "You don't believe this . . . Wouldn't Sirius have told you they'd changed the plan?"

"Not if he thought I was the spy, Peter," said Lupin. "I assume that's why you didn't tell me, Sirius?" he said casually over Pettigrew's head.

"Forgive me, Remus," said Black.

"Not at all, Padfoot, old friend," said Lupin, who was now rolling up his sleeves. "And will you, in turn, forgive me for believing you were the spy?"

"Of course," said Black, and the ghost of a grin flitted across his gaunt face. He, too, began rolling up his sleeves. "Shall we kill him together?"

"Yes, I think so," said Lupin grimly.

"You wouldn't . . . you won't . . . ," gasped Pettigrew. And he scrambled around to Ron.

"Ron . . . haven't I been a good friend . . . a good pet? You won't let them kill me, Ron, will you . . . you're on my side, aren't you?"

But Ron was staring at Pettigrew with the utmost revulsion.

"I let you sleep in my bed!" he said.

"Kind boy . . . kind master . . ." Pettigrew crawled toward Ron, "you won't let them do it. . . . I was your rat. . . . I was a good pet. . . ."

"If you made a better rat than a human, it's not much to boast about, Peter," said Black harshly. Ron, going still paler with pain, wrenched his broken leg out of Pettigrew's reach. Pettigrew turned on his knees, staggered forward, and seized the hem of Hermione's robes.

"Sweet girl . . . clever girl . . . you — you won't let them. . . . Help me. . . ."

Hermione pulled her robes out of Pettigrew's clutching hands and backed away against the wall, looking horrified. He moves on to the next girl in the room. 

"Ebony . . . Ebony . . . clever girl . . . always gets what she wants . . . you despise Gryffindors don't you? Why would you help them?"

"Not all Gryffindors are bad, you certainly are though. Keep trying." She says, grinning.

Pettigrew knelt, trembling uncontrollably, and turned his head slowly toward Harry.

"Harry . . . Harry . . . you look just like your father . . . just like him. . . ."

"HOW DARE YOU SPEAK TO HARRY?" roared Black. "HOW DARE YOU FACE HIM? HOW DARE YOU TALK ABOUT JAMES IN FRONT OF HIM?"

"Harry," whispered Pettigrew, shuffling toward him, hands outstretched. "Harry, James wouldn't have wanted me killed. . . . James would have understood, Harry . . . he would have shown me mercy. . . ."

Both Black and Lupin strode forward, seized Pettigrew's shoulders, and threw him backward onto the floor. He sat there, twitching with terror, staring up at them.

"You sold Lily and James to Voldemort," said Black, who was shaking too. "Do you deny it?"

Pettigrew burst into tears. It was horrible to watch: He looked like an oversized, balding baby, cowering on the floor.

"Sirius, Sirius, what could I have done? The Dark Lord . . . you have no idea . . . he has weapons you can't imagine. . . . I was scared, Sirius, I was never brave like you and Remus and James. I never meant it to happen. . . . He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named forced me —"