breath. He continued walking through what once was his home, staring without really seeing. He kept hoping for some stray memory to surface, but there was nothing.
An overwhelming sense of despair and hopelessness washed over him as he sank to his knees and sat amidst the ruins, uncertain where to go or what to do next.
What am I doing here?
Suddenly remembering his conversation with Moody the previous morning, Harry removed the Spell Detector from his rucksack and placed it on the end of his nose. He inhaled sharply as pale images of blue, pink, and green light emanated from every direction on the lot at number sixteen. Harry frowned in confusion.
He walked back to the spot of scorched earth and stared through the Spell Detector. The light he saw was vivid red and appeared to be pulsating. Harry yanked the Spell Detector off his nose and backed away as if he’d seen something indecent. This place – his familial home – was virtually alive with magic.
It suddenly occurred to Harry that the entire area must be under a concealment charm, otherwise the Muggles might have rebuilt it, or worse, the wizarding population would have turned the spot into a tourist attraction. He’d found the location very easily, but he’d known where to go, or perhaps it wasn’t hidden from him since it was his family. All of these uncertainties made his head pound.
He put the Spell Detector back on and continued to poke around. It took several minutes before he saw more traces of red. They were coming from a spot near the back of the dwelling, where much of the rubble was piled. He wondered if perhaps there had been another floor since there was so much debris. He moved some stones and dirt again until he saw the same, deadened black marking. This was where his mother had died, where he’d received the mark on his forehead. Harry absently ran his fingers along the scorched earth, his mother’s screams echoing in his head.
Putting away the Spell Detector, he reached out with his thoughts to try and identify the magic on his own. He felt the same shiver he remembered from the cave on that fateful night with Dumbledore. Still, he didn’t know if that was simply coming from the maelstrom of emotions this place was evoking in him.
Harry sighed heavily and stood upright. There was nothing here but memories now, and he’d have to test his ability to feel the magic in a less traumatic place. It was useless to attempt it here. As he turned on his heel and took a single step, he saw a quick flash of a long, wiry tail flicking behind some rocks. Harry drew his wand, aiming at the pile of rocks.
“Reducto,” he hissed, blowing the rocks apart.
The rat squealed and scurried toward another pile of rubble, revealing its telltale silver paw as it sprinted.
“Reducto,” Harry growled again, sending more dust and particles into the air. “Hiding in cracks and holes again, Wormtail? I suppose a rat can never change its spots, either, eh? Come out and face me man to man.”
As the dust from his second blast settled, Harry looked around warily. There was no sign of the rat anywhere.
“Come out, Wormtail. I don’t have time for your sodding little games. You’ve been following me for quite some time now; you must have something to say. Spit it out before I do what I should have done a long time ago,” Harry said, his hand shaking. All the rage, fear and pent-up emotion over seeing the destruction of his parents’ home finally had an outlet, and Harry was nearly radiating fury. Here in front of him was the stinking little rat who’d betrayed his parents and was directly responsible for everything that had happened here. The thought that Wormtail could still find his way here because he was supposed to have been this home’s protector made his blood boil.
Harry was going to see to it that he finally paid.
“Where are you?” he snarled, enraged. A slight noise caused him to spin and blast a spot on the ground, but still Wormtail didn’t reappear.
“You coward. You’ve always been a coward. You never deserved their friendship,” he said, panting.
He was met with silence. He stalked around the area, chest heaving and clenching his teeth as he tried to control his anger.
After several moments, a raspy voice from somewhere on the other side of the one remaining wall startled him. “Will you put down your wand and listen to me for a moment? If you won’t listen, then I can just disappear once again.”
“What do you have to say that I would possibly want to hear?” Harry asked, slowly inching along the wall and preparing to strike when he reached the end.
“I want to discuss a common enemy,” Wormtail replied, his voice wavering.
“’A common enemy,’ is it now?” Harry asked. He was almost there, just a few steps more. “Have you earned Voldemort’s disfavor, Wormtail? He’s your enemy now, is he?”
“No! I didn’t mean the Dark Lord,” Wormtail squeaked, sounding panicked. “I’m talking about Snape.”
“Snape?” Harry asked, stopping dead in his tracks. “What about him?” He momentarily forgot his rage and hatred of Wormtail as he heard the name of the man he loathed above any other, save Voldemort. Snape had killed Dumbledore in cold blood, and he’d helped to kill Sirius. There was no doubt in Harry’s mind, and he was going to see to it that he paid.
“Yes, I thought that might interest you,” Wormtail said as he slowly scurried around from behind the wall and came face-to-face with Harry. Both held their wands on one another, although neither made a move to cast a spell. Wormtail’s eyes darted rapidly, and he appeared ready to bolt at the first sign of trouble.
Harry was momentarily tempted to simply curse him anyway, but his curiosity about Snape was overpowering that impulse. Still, Ron’s words from long ago arose in his mind.
Throw your wand away and punch him in the nose.
Harry drew back his fist and did just that. Wormtail’s head snapped back, and he fell to the ground, clutching his bleeding nose as he scrambled away from Harry.
“Be glad that’s all I did,” Harry spat, shaking out his split knuckles.
“I thought you’d want to discuss Snape,” Wormtail said, sniffling.
“What about him?” Harry repeated.
“He’s gained great favor with the Dark Lord for killing Albus Dumbledore. There isn’t a plan underway that he isn’t involved in or at least aware. Where the Dark Lord once trusted many, he now trusts only one,” Wormtail spat, bitterness unmistakable in his voice as he dabbed at his still-bleeding nose and rose to his feet.
Harry watched him warily, seeing red when he so casually mentioned Professor Dumbledore’s demise. “Voldemort doesn’t trust anyone. You’re the fool if you believed that, and Snape is a fool now to think he won’t turn on him in an instant when his usefulness has expired. You’re not his friends but his servants, nothing more.”
“You underestimate the benefits of the Dark Lord’s favor,” Wormtail replied reverently.
“I underestimate nothing. I know exactly what he’s all about,” Harry said coldly.
“I once stood in that spot of great favor,” Wormtail said, puffing out his chest and raising his chin defiantly.
“Yeah, I remember; you lost your hand over it. So what? Now you’ve been bumped down a spot, Wormtail? Being replaced not sitting well, is it? What do you want me to do about it?” Harry asked incredulously.
“I know you despise Snape as much as I do. I know you’d like him brought to justice. I might be able to help you with that,” Wormtail said, lowering his voice conspiratorially.
“And get him out of your way in the process?” Harry asked, finally cottoning onto Wormtail’s agenda.
Wormtail shrugged. “Indeed. Snape’s capture could be mutually beneficial.”
“And after Voldemort’s fall, the fact that you turned Snape in couldn’t hurt your own sentencing. Isn’t that true?” Harry asked.
“I honestly don’t see that happening, Harry, but it never hurts to have all your options covered,” Wormtail said.
“How very Slytherin of you,” Harry said drolly.
“Some would take that as a compliment.”
“So, this is why you wanted to talk to me? You’ve followed me all the way here from the train station for this? Hold on. Why were you at the train station, anyway? How did you know I was coming here?” Harry asked, raising his wand.
“Actually, I expected you yesterday,” Wormtail squeaked, his beady eyes darting back and forth. “At the Burrow you said that you’d be here the day after the wedding. I suppose the unexpected guests delayed your arrival. My master was livid that you’d managed to get away. Snape told him exactly how the wards at the Burrow were constructed. He hadn’t expected them to be able to reinforce them against the Dementors.”
Harry’s mind reeled. Wormtail had heard him at the Burrow? How? But of course! As Scabbers, Wormtail would know all the ways in and out of the Burrow, and as a rat he could probably breech the wards, much as Sirius had done at Hogwarts in Harry’s third year. Wormtail knew everything there was to know about the Burrow, right down to the gnomes in the garden.
Damn! Ginny had never been safe there, and he’d almost left her alone and undefended.
“You’ve been at the Burrow all this time?” Harry asked, his throat dry.
“I was assigned there. The Dark Lord knows everything and doesn’t hesitate to use anything to his advantage. You’d do well to remember that, young Harry. He’s aware of my connection to the Weasley family, and he knows of their importance to you,” he said, a hint of pride showing on his pasty face. “Your interest in the Weasley girl has not gone unnoticed by the Dark Lord. Severus specifically mentioned how taken you are with the girl. He’s right that you do wear your emotions on your sleeve.”
“So, you’ve been spying all this time,” Harry said, his voice deadened.
“You’d be surprised at the knowledge I can accumulate in my Animagus form. Even those that know that I have the ability to transform forget and speak openly without realizing I am there. I know more about the Dark Lord and his plans than any of the rest of them. I know more than even he’s aware I know,” Wormtail said, beads of sweat glistening on his brow as he spoke.
“What do you know? I can’t imagine he’d trust you with anything important,” Harry said, thinking quickly. He was purposefully goading him, but he could see a resemblance to Dudley in Wormtail. Dudley had
always said too much if Harry merely showed the slightest skepticism in his imagined greatness. Harry hoped the same ploy would work on Wormtail.
“I know plenty. I was there. I was the one who nursed the miserable wreck of a creature he was. It was me who helped him prepare the potion. It was me who helped him return. I was his most loyal servant,” Wormtail shrieked plaintively.
“And he discarded you when he was done,” Harry said, feigning boredom
“I know about the Horcruxes,” Wormtail whispered triumphantly.
Harry’s blood ran cold. “What?” he asked numbly.
“I know about the Horcruxes. There are seven of them, two of which have already been destroyed,” Wormtail said. “You destroyed the first one.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Harry said unconvincingly.
“I think you do. I think the part you don’t know is the part only the Dark Lord, Severus, and I know. I suspect Dumbledore had also at least pondered it before he died,” Wormtail said mysteriously, obviously relishing having something to hold over Harry.
“What are you on about?” Harry asked.
“I’m talking about the reason the Dark Lord will win in the end – his Seventh Horcrux – the one you will be unable to destroy,” Wormtail replied smugly.
Harry was perplexed. He didn’t want to reveal any of the Horcruxes if Wormtail was only bluffing, but even as the thought occurred to him, he discarded it. Wormtail was more certain of himself than Harry had ever seen the man. He knew something, and Harry had to find out what it was, despite every internal nerve and instinct that was screaming at him that he didn’t want to know.
“After the Horcruxes are destroyed, he’ll be mortal. He can die like any other man,” Harry said firmly.
“I’m not speaking about the bit that’s still in him. I’m speaking of the Horcrux even he wasn’t aware of until two years ago. The Horcrux he never intended to make,” Wormtail said, eyeing Harry speculatively.
“What are you on about?” Harry asked in frustration.
“Don’t you know, Harry? Haven’t you at least suspected?”
The pit in Harry’s stomach was growing heavier by the moment. “What are you saying?”
“Didn’t you wonder why He left you alone all of last year? Why after the Department of Mysteries fiasco he never made another attempt on your life? Even during the battle at Hogwarts, all the Death Eaters had strict orders not to harm you. You were to be left for him, he told
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