Magic? || Years 1-5

Peter Pettigrew: Year 3

"Black was tired of his double-agent role, he was ready to declare his support openly for You-Know-Who, and he seems to have planned this for the moment of the Potter's death. But, as we all know, You-Know-Who met his downfall in little Harry Potter. Powers gone, horribly weakened, he fled. And this left Black in a very nasty position indeed. His master had fallen at the very moment when he, Black, had shown his true colors as a traitor. He had no voice but to run for it -- " Fudge started.

"Filthy, stinkin' turncoat!" Hagrid snarled, half the bar going quiet at the volume of his voice.

"Shh!" Professor McGonagall scolded.

"I met him! I musta bin the last ter see him before he killed all them people! It was me what rescued Harry from Lily an' James's house after they was killed! Jus' got him outta the ruins, poor little thing, with a great slash across his forehead, an' his parents dead... an' Sirius Black turns up, on that flyin' motorbike he used ter ride. Never occurred ter me what he was doin' there. I didn' know he'd bin Lily and James's Secret-Keeper. Thought he'd jus' heard the news o' You-Know-Who's attack an' come ter see what he could do. White an' shakin', he was. An' yeh know what I did? I COMFORTED THE MURDERIN' TRAITOR!" Hagrid went on, furious.

"Hagrid, please! Keep your voice down!" Professor McGonagall gasped.

"How was I ter know he wasn' upset abou' Lily an' James? It was You-Know-Who he cared abou'! An' then he says, 'Give Harry ter me, Hagrid, I'm his godfather, I'll look after him -- ' Ha! But I'd had me orders from Dumbledore, an' I told Black no, Dumbledore said Harry was ter go ter his aunt an' uncle's. Black argued, but in the end he gave in. Told me ter take his motorbike ter get Harry there. 'I won't need it anymore,' he says. I shoulda known there was somethin' fishy goin' on then. He loved that motorbike, what was he givin' it ter me for? Why wouldn' he need it anymore?" Hagrid ranted.

"Fact was, it was too easy ter trace. Dumbledore knew he'd hin the Potters' Secret-Keeper. Black knew he was goin' ter have ter run fer it that night, knew it was a matter o' hours before the Ministry was after him. But what if I'd given Harry to him, eh? I bet he'd've pitched him off the bike halfway out ter sea. His bes' friends' son! But when a wizard goes over ter the Dark Side, there's nothin' and no one that matters to 'em anymore..."

There was quiet for a bit, everyone taking a while to fully process Hagrid's story.

"But he didn't manage to disappear, did he? The Ministry of Magic caught up with him next day!" Madam Rosmerta piped up at last.

"Alas, if only we had. It was not we who found him. It was little Peter Pettigrew -- another of the Potters' friends. Maddened by grief, no doubt, and knowing that Black had been the Potters' Secret-Keeper, he went after Black himself," Fudge replied, voice bitter.

"Pettigrew... that fat little boy who was always tagging around after them at Hogwarts?" Madam Rosmerta asked.

"Hero-worshipped Black and Potter. Never quite in their league, talent-wise. I was often rather sharp with him. You can imagine how I -- how I regret that now..." Professor McGonagall wiped at her eyes, her words heavy.

"There, now, Minerva, Pettigrew died a hero's death. Eyewitnesses -- Muggles, of course, we wiped their memories later -- told us how Pettigrew cornered Black. They say he was sobbing, 'Lily and James, Sirius! How could you?' And then he went for his wand. Well, of course, Black was quicker. Blew Pettigrew to smithereens..." Fudge's voice trailed off.

"Stupid boy... foolish boy... he was always hopeless at dueling... should have left it to the Ministry," Professor McGonagall blew her nose.

"I tell yeh, if I'd got ter Black before little Pettigrew did, I wouldn't've messed around with wands -- I'd've ripped him limb -- from -- limb," Hagrid's voice was barely more than a growl.