Raised to the Third Power

"I HAD to tell him, Ron," Hermione snapped. "He ASKED."

"He asked Harry," Ron snarled, ears reddening. "He didn't say anything to you. You had no right--"

"Things were getting out of hand! We can't just keep staying close to Harry and hoping we'll find a way to un-hypnotize him every time he sees a snake!"

"We can't now, you mean. You've made the decision for all of us, haven't you?"

"It was the right one, Ron! You know that!"

"No, I don't! Apparently, I don't have to know anything, as you know EVERYTHING!"

"Ron--"

"I don't care. I'm going on a walk."

Hermione gasped. "You can't."

"If you can decide to ignore our decision to keep this snake thing to ourselves, I can decide to ignore the rules about going outside."

"Ron--" Hermione reached out to grasp Ron's arm.

"Dumbledore will be tightening security even more now, especially around Harry. This is probably my last chance." Ron wrenched his arm free of Hermione's grip and stormed toward the nearest castle exit.

Hermione stared after him. "What will we do?"

"Chase him. What do you think?" answered Harry with no small amount of annoyance. "It isn't safe for him to be out there."

"But as unsafe as it is for Ron--"

"It's less safe for me? You might have thought of that before you whipped him up like this. I am going outside. Are you coming?"

Hermione mumbled that she was, and she and Harry slipped into the black night with their wands drawn.

"Magnes," Harry muttered, and his wand began to pull him irresistibly in the direction of the Forbidden Forrest. Had to walk THERE, did you? Harry thought irritably. He was concentrating so hard on the strange tugging of his wand that he did not become aware of the stunning spells sent in his direction until it was too late.

The stunning spells were not overly powerful, and both Harry and Hermione were mostly conscious by the time they were propped up inside a caged of portion of a shack. Harry was dimly aware that Ron was beside him. He was also aware that he was still in possession of both his wand and his knife. Their position was not hopeless.

"Well," sneered a voice that sent shivers up and down Harry's spine. "We meet again, Harry."

Next to Harry, Ron gulped. On his other side, Hermione had gone rigid with terror. Ron and Hermione had never before come into direct contact with the figure that stood before them, but it was obvious to Harry that they had uncovered his identity.

The speaker was none other than Lord Voldemort.

"You do understand that that fool, Dumbledore, had a reason for keeping you inside his precious castle?" Voldemort continued. He laughed nastily. "Thank you for ignoring him."

Harry remained silent. Voldemort's inhuman grin widened.

"Do you suppose they will die as well as Cedric Diggory?" He nodded at Ron and Hermione.

Harry felt his knees weaken and his stomach drop just before he heard his own voice say, softly but strongly, "Expeliarmus!"

"AVADA KEDAVRA!" shouted Voldemort at the same instant, and Harry knew that he was about to be treated to a replay of a scene he had hoped never to think of, let alone live, again.

It was easier this time. Harry knew before he began what he needed to do; he needed to force the bubbles of light away from him along the beam that connected his wand to the Dark Lord's. He also knew that the Death Eaters surrounding Voldemort would not harm him. His life was Voldemort's alone to take.

Voldemort might not object to his lackeys taking care of Ron and Hermione, however.

Without removing his eyes from the achingly bright beam of light, Harry found his voice. "Hermione! Ron! Are you still there?"

"Where would we go?" That was Ron. His voice, sarcasm-laced even as he feared for his life, reassured Harry. New strength flooded into his arms.

"Back to the castle. Now!"

"We can't move."

"I can."

"That's why you're the Boy Who Lived and we aren't." The sarcasm had grown even stronger.

"Are you okay?"

"Other than being paralyzed and face-to-face with You-Know-Who, I'm wonderful."

"Hermione?"

There was a pause during which Harry became aware that Voldemort was talking at him as well. He was delighted to find that it was a simple matter to tune out the Dark Lord's voice in favor of Ron's. "She looks all right," Ron answered at last.

"Do you have your wands?"

"Yes, Harry, we have our wands. We have our wands and it just didn't occur to us to USE THEM!" His voice rose in anger, but Harry knew that the anger was directed at the situation, not at him.

"Can you tell me what you see?" Harry's voice grew desperate. He needed the distraction of Ron's voice as much as he needed the information that Ron could give him. The bubbles were moving more slowly now, and Harry felt that his strength was draining too quickly. Voldemort had obviously grown more powerful in the past ten months.

"Can't-- can't you see?"

"I have to keep looking at the wands. I think I do."

"Oh. There are about six Death Eaters standing behind-- behind You-Know-Who."

"Just six?"

"I don't think they planned this visit. Maybe they haven't had a chance to call ever--" Ron's voice broke off.

"Ron?" asked Harry fearfully.

"Didn't you hear what he just said?"

"Voldemort?"

"Say 'You--,' oh, never mind. Yes, him."

"I heard him talking, but I decided to listen to you instead." Harry found that tuning out the Dark Lord's voice in favor of Ron's was much more useful than tuning out the world around him in favor of a snake's "voice." "Any idea where we are?"

"The Shrieking Shack, or somewhere like it."

"Can you--" Harry never finished his next question. The beads of light had been forced to the tip of Voldemort's wand. Several spells were spit harmlessly into the air before the moment he had been dreading arrived. The figure of Cedric Diggory emerged from the wand.

"Oh my God," whispered Hermione. It seemed that her voice had returned.

"You okay, Hermione?" Harry called, doing his best not to think of the figures emerging from the wand as echoes of murdered souls.

"Yes," she whispered, not sounding at all sure of herself.

"Ron?"

"Still here."

"Good." What else could Harry say? What could he do to forget that among the next figures emerging from the wand would be his parents?

Harry was overcome by a sudden urge to faint. His arm ached, and his head ached, and he was exhausted, and Voldemort was still explaining that Harry would be dying soon, and Ron and Hermione were in danger, and the ghostly form of Cedric had drifted close to him. At the edge of his consciousness, Harry could hear Cedric instructing Hermione to do something or other.

"Stay with it."

Harry did not need to turn to know to whom the voice behind him belonged. He had heard the voice before. He had heard it when Voldemort had last placed him in this situation, and he had heard it before he had perfected the use of the Patronus Charm. It was his father's voice.

"Dad?" Harry muttered weakly. His wand hand jerked.

"Stay with it," the image of James Potter repeated. "Force him to regurgitate every spell."

"I don't think I can."

"It will get easier. The others are interfering already." Harry took his eyes off the golden line, and his wand jerked once more. "Keep your eye on the wands. I'll explain. The others are slipping in and out and around the Death Eaters and Voldemort. That will lessen their concentration. Sooner or later, Ron and Hermione will be able to break the spells on themselves. And help is coming."

"Help?"

"Sirius and Remus."

"I don't want them to die," Harry blurted out before he had a chance to consider what he was saying.

"I don't believe they intend to. They're close now, Harry. Shout to them, will you?"

Harry suspected that he could not spare the energy needed to shout, but it was not every day that his dead father made requests of him. "SIRIUS!"

"HARRY! We're here. Oh, my, what. Moony. James."

Sirius' voice sounded as weak as Harry's felt. His raised wand arm dropped, and the wand threatened to slip from his suddenly numb fingers. "Sirius!" snapped 'James.' The ghostlike image could not seem to raise his voice much above a loud whisper, but the commanding tone was evident nonetheless. "Keep your wand up!" The long-absent voice dragged Sirius' consciousness from the murky depths into which it had threatened to sink.

"Talk to him," Sirius heard Harry murmur. "Tell him . . . ." Harry's voice trailed off, but 'James' apparently understood.

"Sirius," the ghostly whisper repeated.

Sirius took an inadvertent step backwards. His eyes, previously fixed on Harry, now wandered to the Death Eaters, to Ron and Hermione, to the ghostly images coasting around the claustrophobia-inducing shack.

"Sirius," the whisper came a third time. Wild thoughts of rattling chains and ghosts of Christmases past coursed through Sirius' mind.

"You aren't here," Sirius choked out at last.

"I'm here."

"Nothing wakes the dead!" he snarled with sudden violence. "You. Are. Not. Real."

"I'm a real product of the reverse-spell effect."

"Good," was all Sirius could think to say aloud. Focus. Focus. Harry. Have to get away from-- his head began to swim again.

"Keep your wand up," the image reminded.

"Wand. Yes," muttered Sirius incoherently.

"We're fighting together again, Padfoot. You've got to get the wands from the minions over there."

"Right." Sirius could talk about strategy. He could talk about military strategy anywhere, with anyone, and not feel the slightest twinge of emotional involvement. Of course I can he thought with no small amount of irony. He managed to control his wild thoughts and feelings enough to step away from 'James.'

"Wait."

"This is a battle! YOU are a hoax put here by Voldemort to distract me! It won't work."

"You know that's not true."

"You--"

"Listen to me for a moment, Sirius. You don't have more time than that."

"The best use of my time--"

"We could have been done by now." 'James's' voice was gently commanding. "This is important."

"What?" asked Sirius at last, suddenly weary and unable to comprehend the magnitude of the situation surrounding him.

"Thank you for taking care of Harry."

Sirius' laugh-- or was it Padfoot's bark?-- sounded sharply. "I've done a rather lousy job of it."

"You've done no such thing. He adores you."

"He adores the idea of me. He's been starved for any kind of parental attention his whole life thanks to me." Sirius scowled at the ground.

'James' regarded Sirius regretfully. "You didn't kill me, Sirius. You didn't kill Lily."

"I as good as--"

"You did not." 'James' was firm. He had, in life, been one of a select few people capable of forcing Sirius to be quiet and listen. He had lost none of this ability in death.

"You and Lily never would have decided to use me as a decoy."

"We didn't have to agree with you, either. Do you think we were too spineless to say 'no' to you?"

"You--"

"The choice was mine." Somehow, the apparition took on a passionate air. "Mine completely. I died by *my* decision, not yours."

"Why are you telling me this when your son is-- is--" Sirius tried to see Harry, but the shack had become crowded with images of Voldemort's murdered masses and Sirius' view was obstructed.

"My son is fine. He went through this under much more dire circumstances last year."

"You sound awfully confident."

"I am awfully confident. I know that Harry will live. I know that you will live, but you cannot defeat Voldemort while you're hanging on to this ridiculous idea that you murdered me!"

"Ridiculous--"

"Ridiculous like that time with the crystal ball and that Ravenclaw girl's bra," 'James' said firmly.

"I miss you," Sirius whispered in spite of himself.

"Try not to," 'James' returned with infinite kindness. "And collect those wands."

"Right!" Sirius jerked himself back into reality. "Accio! Accio!" The wands flew into his outstretched hand with little resistance. The spirits had so disoriented the Death Eaters by wandering back and forth through their bodies that even those Death Eaters who were still conscious had fallen to the ground in boneless heaps.

Sirius could now see that Harry was being coached in the art of keeping his wand level with Voldemort's by one of the McKinnon brothers. Remus was in the process of breaking the bonds that had been holding Hermione and Ron rigid. Another figure was conversing with Hermione even as she fought against her magical bindings. Face and posture were so young that Sirius knew that this must be the echo of the recently murdered student, Cedric Diggory. 'Cedric,' it seemed, was using Hermione as a means to give Harry a lecture similar to the one Sirius had just gotten from 'James.'

Remus ended the final spell restraining Ron and Hermione with great satisfaction. "SIRIUS!" he shouted. "Do you have their wands?" In response, two slim sticks, vibrant in contrast to the ghostly images that filled the room, found their way to his hand. Without truly stopping to catch them, Remus redistributed the wands to their owners. He was about to order the teenagers to leave the shack when his voice deserted him and his eyes traveled of their own accord to rest on a gray figure that stood out from the rest.

She was not entirely gray, it seemed. Remus knew that his imagination must be completing the picture the way it felt that the picture ought to be completed, but nonetheless he might have sworn that her hair still held the faintest tint of red and her eyes the faintest tint of green.

"You look good, Remus."

He doubted that he looked especially good. Various effects of the werewolf curse had marred his appearance for years now, and today he was tired and sweating and half-mad with fear.

"I wish I could say the same for you," he replied tightly.

'Lily' smiled sadly and a knife wrenched inside Remus. "Many women would give a great deal for eternal youth."

"Not you."

"No." She paused and then seemed to gather herself. "I'm not planning to pass this way again." Her eyes bore into his, and again his mind insisted that those eyes were green rather than hollow and misty. "Thank you for being my friend."

"Thank you," he reciprocated dumbly.

The half-tearful smile intensified. "Be brave and have fun. Er, remember that you're never alone. You and Sirius hug each other for me."

"We miss you," he told her, at last finding appropriate words.

She acknowledged the comment with a nod of her head. "We're almost out of time. James is coming."

Remus felt his eyes widen. He tightened his grip on his wand. "No. Tell him no. Keep him away--" Remus was virtually hysterical but did not especially care. James and Lily were dead, and his behavior could not harm them.

"You won't have another chance."

'Lily' drifted away from Remus-- toward Sirius, Remus could see from the corner of his eye-- and Remus was confronted with the spectacle of James Potter's "echo."

"Stay away," he said determinedly. Obediently, 'James' stepped backward. James had always been the one of Remus' three great friends most willing to give the sometimes-introverted werewolf the time and space he needed. Sirius and Peter had been in favor of pushing Remus physically and emotionally in an attempt to make him "get over it" without regard to what "it" might happen to be.

In this case, "it" was a plethora of inconvenient emotions provoked by the appearance of his dead friend.

Speaking to 'Lily' had been one thing. Lily and Remus had been friendly, always, during the decade or so of their acquaintance. Remus had cared deeply for her during her life and grieved deeply for her at her death.

James, on the other hand, had been Remus' first friend. Sirius and Peter had come with the package and had demonstrated their loyalty (and eventually, in Peter's case, lack thereof) in many ways over many years.

But James had been the first. James had been the ring leader and the one whose personality had most often meshed with Remus'. Sirius and Remus, inordinately fond of each other though they may have been, had been polar opposites a good portion of the time. Sirius' manic bursts of uncontrolled passion had sometimes clashed with Remus' tightly reined-in dark energy. Peter and Remus had had such different goals and concerns in life that sometimes Remus had felt that they were speaking different languages.

James was James. Remus had nearly lost control of himself when Harry, years before, had confided to Remus that he heard his father's voice when he approached a dementor.

"Are you listening to me?" 'James' asked.

"Yes," admitted Remus, though he still refused to look at the projection of his friend.

"I never thought it was you, Moony." 'James' did not need to explain what he had not thought Remus had done.

"Thank you." Remus' voice was hollow.

"What else do you need me to say?"

Remus could not find an answer.

"You're doing good, Remus."

He looked up in time to see James' crooked grin playing eerily across the misty shape, and he very nearly smiled himself.

'James' glided away from Remus. Remus could now make out the scene before him clearly. The Death Eaters who had accompanied Voldemort were all unconscious and bound. Harry still held Voldemort in his control. Ron and Hermione stood with Harry now. Ron had placed both of his hands on Harry's wand in an attempt to take some of the physical strain away from his friend. Voldemort's wand, meanwhile, was being forced to regurgitate spells at an ever-increasing rate.

The spells were quite simple now, and at last, with a sputter, Voldemort's wand let loose a shower of sparks. Harry's arm fell to his side as if made of lead. Around him, Sirius and Remus and Ron and Hermione send every spell Harry had ever heard-- and some that he had not-- in the direction of the Dark Lord. The hexes and curses seemed to take no effect in the magically saturated air.

The figures that had emerged most recently from Voldemort's wand, Harry noticed, were dissolving into thin air with audible cracks. They were not briefly lingering and then vanishing as they had the previous spring.

"You did it." Harry's father had returned to his side.

"What exactly did I do?" "What did I just do" had not been among the many questions Harry had often wished to ask his father, but the words still escaped his lips.

"You held on long enough to make his wand spit out every spell it has ever cast. It will not be as powerful now. It will be similar to a child's wand that has not grown accustomed to its master. You have also drained his energy. He's using everything he has to block those spells your friends are throwing at him."

"Why does it sound like they're Disapparting?" Harry asked as several more figures who he knew he should have recognized from his textbooks vanished.

"You've purged the wand. The echoes won't come back again."

"Then-- then I won't see you again." Harry had not wanted to duel with Voldemort a third time, but he always found a hidden, guilty pleasure in horrid experiences that allowed him a glimpse of his parents.

"Not this way, no," 'James' acknowledged.

"How?" asked Harry desperately.

"Look in the mirror," his mother answered from his other side. "He will be with you always. We both will."

Harry shook his head frantically.

"We love you," his mother continued. She sounded as though she were crying, if a ghostly echo could cry.

"And we're proud of you," his father added. "Very proud of you."

"I love you, too," Harry said, his voice hovering between "fervent" and "pathetic."

'Lily' nodded shakily. "Give your love to Sirius. Give it to your friends."

Harry could not respond before the final round of cracks took away the images to which he spoke.

Suddenly, the shack was empty but for five living figures and six prone ones. Sirius spoke first.

"Of all the stupid things I've heard of the three of you doing since you started Hogwarts, this is the STUPIDEST one!" He pointed his wand accusingly at Harry, Ron, and Hermione. "Now back to the castle! March!"

Not as far away as he would have liked, the Dark Lord shuddered with weakness and anger. New, more desperate measures were obviously necessary. He needed to infiltrate Hogwarts, and he needed to infiltrate it before another incident like this one sent his plans into further disarray.

He summoned Peter Pettigrew and Severus Snape.

Severus arrived instantly. He bowed low to the ground and brushed his lips to the hem of the Dark Lord's robe. The Hogwarts professor did his best to display no outward sign of nervousness, but in truth he felt as if he might become ill. As bad as it was to be summoned to the He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's side along with all of the other Death Eaters, it was infinitely worse to be summoned individually.

"My Lord," he whispered.

"Rise," He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named rasped with a mixture of boredom and loathing.

Severus rose just as another pop sounded in the room. He had not been summoned alone, after all.

"You are late, Wormtail," He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named snapped, but somehow the loathing in his voice seemed to lessen. *There is a way to read this situation that makes my immediate future look extremely unpleasant* Severus reflected.

"M-- my L-- lord, I ap--p-- pologize," Pettigrew stammered. He fell to his kness as Severus had done a moment earlier. Severus wondered how in the world the allegedly intelligent Potters had ever allowed themselves to be convinced to entrust their lives to this quivering mass of idiocy.

"Rise, Wormtail." Pettigrew scrambled awkwardly to his feet. "You shall be useful to me today."

"I won't let it go to my head," answered Pettigrew with the deepest sincerity. Severus choked back his snickers.

"There was an unfortunate occurrence earlier this evening," the Dark Lord explained, his eyes never leaving Pettigrew's half-shaking form. *I never expected to think this, but I wish he'd look at me* Severus thought. "Six more of our supporters have been taken into custody. Hogwarts must be taken *now*." An unpleasant chill rushed down Severus' spine and he straightened his back against it. Pettigrew, for his part, looked unabashedly terrified. "You will take the form of the rat and enter Hogwarts. A wand will be hidden in the corridor that leads to the Slytherin dormitories. You will destroy Hermione Granger, your *master* Ron, and your dear friends Moony and Padfoot. You understand?"

"My Lord-- how--?"

"Any or all of the four. Find them alone and kill them. I do not trust you to take Harry Potter or old Dumbledore, but you *must* know the weaknesses of the other four. Do you not, Wormtail?"

"Yes," Pettigrew managed to choke out. His expression and posture belied his answer.

"You are a fair duelist with your new arm," He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named added with some satisfaction. Pettigrew relaxed infinitesimally and flexed the false appendage appreciatively. "You may be a real match for Sirius Black."

He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named at last returned his gaze to Severus. "You would particularly enjoy seeing Sirius Black get his due, would you not?"

"I would," said Severus, in agreement with the Dark Lord for the first time in many years. He was not, of course, in favor of a Hogwarts infiltration; but Black, the killer, had never been properly punished in his life. What goes around comes around.

"So more's the pity that you will not be seeing Wormtail's work."

"My Lord?"

"You will remain here, Severus. You will remain here indefinitely."

Blood rushed in Severus' ears. "My Lord, Dumbledore--"

"Dumbledore has other things to consider." The Dark Lord's attention shifted once more. "Wormtail, why are you still here?"

The man became a rat and scampered away as quickly as he could. However, nearly a week passed before he was able to retrieve the wand and stumble into one of the opportunities his master had mentioned.

After a long evening of sniffing along the corridors of the school-- more in search of food than anything else-- Wormtail caught the unmistakable scent of Dumbledore's office. Looking up beadily, he noted with disgust that he had come full circle of the castle and achieved nothing.

He paused and strained his ears. It was possible that Dumbledore would say something that the Dark Lord would be pleased to know; and Wormtail was desperate to please the Dark Lord now that his hunt had started so badly.

The office was silent, but faint sounds were coming from the large meeting room close beside it. Wormtail edged closer.

"No sign at all?" That was Professor McGonagall.

"None whatsoever." Dumbledore sounded old and weary. Presumably they were discussing Snape.

"We can begin to expect the-- the worst?" McGonagall asked, her voice quavering slightly. They can't be discussing, Snape, then Wormtail thought with a sigh. McGonagall hates him.

"There is always hope, Minerva," Dumbledore replied. "I have people looking for him, but no information has been uncovered as of yet. In the meantime, our primary concern is seeing that the students' educations are not neglected. Sirius and Remus, you've been conscripted again." There was a pause. "I know that neither of you is especially proficient in this area, but you can teach the younger students and prevent the older ones from destroying the castle."

"A realistic goal," said Sirius with some irony in his voice. Wormtail became all the more confused after hearing Sirius speak; Sirius should be gloating that Snape seemed to have met a bad end.

"We have to make compromises for the safety of the students. It is hardly practical to bring in a true potions master who will teach the students and then destroy them. I can honestly tell you that nowhere among those I trust to come inside Hogwarts is a truly gifted potions maker."

Wormtail assumed that the other three were nodding in agreement.

"Now," Dumbledore continued, "Minerva, if you would accompany me to the Slytherin common room we will attend to the matter of punishment for those destroyed suits of armor and have a conversation with the Slytherin prefects about keeping order. Remus, if you would inform Mr. Filch that the perpetrators have been dealt with and attempt to . . . placate him?"

Sirius snickered something along the lines of "good luck" under his breath. Wormtail held his own breath as three pairs of shoes passed him by.

Sirius was now alone. Under ordinary circumstances, Wormtail would never have chosen to fight with Sirius Black no matter what the Dark Lord had ordered. To fight with Sirius would be to commit suicide. Today, though, Sirius had his back to Wormtail and had no reason to think that he was not alone. No student could enter this section of the castle. Wormtail could transform and kill Sirius before the man realized that he was not alone.

All went according to plan for the first fraction of a second.

Wormtail became Peter Pettigrew. He seized his wand. He aimed it at Sirius.

And Sirius turned around and jumped away from the table. The curse missed him by inches.

"Wormtail," he growled low in his throat. Never had Peter expected that so much loathing could be forced into one short word-- but if anyone was capable of such a thing, Sirius Black was.

"I didn't expect to see you here," the growl continued. "EXPELIARMUS!"

Peter was just able to shout a counter-spell and dodge into a corner of the room. He prepared himself to transform.

"If you transform, so will I," Sirius declared, taking one long, menacing stride toward Peter. "I recommend that you die like a man."

"You-- you can't kill me," Peter said, disgusted that his voice, as ever, sounded much less confident than that of Sirius. "You promised Harry."

"I didn't promise him that I wouldn't make you wish you were dead. Nor did I promise that I would not kill you by accident, in self-defense." The grin Sirius now wore spoke nothing of mirth. Peter shuddered.

The two men raised their wands as one. Their next three spells cancelled one another out as the room grew warmer and a faint smell of duel-created smoke tinged the air.

The first spell that had any real effect was Sirius' leg-locker curse. It was childish but effective, not unlike the man himself. From the ground, Peter was able to block Sirius' next curse and even hit Sirius with a breathlessness charm. With wonder, Peter realized that his new arm did indeed make dueling much easier. His reaction time was nearly halved.

The wizards regrouped quickly and stood facing each other once more. The wariness soon left Sirius' face, however. He was nearly mad with glee. "You haven't got a chance, Wormtail," he rasped.

"I think I have," Peter replied.

"That fake arm can't duel for you."

"It doesn't need to," Peter answered with a sudden flame of irritation. As a Hogwarts student, he had often thanked lucky stars and guardian angels that Sirius Black was his friend. Sirius had been so strong, so charismatic, and so talented that his friendship had been a protective shield for the weaker, less popular, and less magically gifted boy.

Why does Sirius even bother with me? He's everything and I'm not even smart enough to get out of being yelled at for playing in McGonagall's class like he is had been one of the refrains that had often coursed through Peter's teenaged brain.

"You aren't as smart as you think, Padfoot," Peter said now.

Sirius grimaced at the use of the nickname. "Oh?"

"You chose the wrong side."

"We'll see. Or rather, I will, because you--"

"We HAVE seen. You and Remus and James had everything. You were near the top of your classes, you had friends who adored you, everyone told you how smart and brave and" Peter snorted "handsome you were. You put everything you had into" Peter rolled his eyes "the Cause. And where did it get you? It got you into Azkaban and it got Remus into exile and it got James DEAD! Lucius Malfoy is living on a manor somewhere. Macnair is a valued member of the Ministry. They have respect and families and piles of gold."

Peter and Sirius had begun to move around the room in a strange dance. Again, though curses rained thickly through the air, neither was able to connect.

"So?" Sirius asked in between hexes. "The Malfoys have always had money."

"So compare Lucius Malfoy to you, and to Remus! He has everything he can dream of. You and Remus haven't always had enough to eat for all you were 'some of the best Hogwarts ever produced.' You've starved in the streets! Literally! Both of you! I made the smart choice this time, not you, and you can't handle it because you like to be smarter than everyone else! Can you honestly tell me that living in the streets was worth it?"

"YES!" roared Sirius without an instant's hesitation. Two hexes hit Peter in quick succession, but Peter, with a feeling of euphoria, again found that he could continue to send spells in Sirius' direction. This was what dueling must feel like for the truly magically gifted. No wonder Sirius and Remus and James had actually enjoyed dueling lessons instead of dreading them as Peter had.

"Still with me, are you?" asked Sirius with an insulting amount of surprise.

"You're still with me, you mean," Peter corrected. "Too much time spent with your brain-damaged godson and your not-quite-human friend, I expect. You forget what it's like--"

"You will NEVER--" Sirius' voice broke off as he shouted another hex, but he had grown angry and his aim had grown erratic, just as it had more than fourteen years before following the deaths of James and Lily.

"Careful, Sirius," sniggered Peter. His was the voice now filled with glee. He had learned not a little about manipulation from the other Death Eaters. "Don't lose that infamous temper of yours." As Sirius' lack of control grew, so did Peter's confidence. He summoned his strength and waited for an opening. "AVADA KEDAVRA!" he shouted.

"Don't lose that infamous temper." Was that what I was doing? You'd think I'd learn. Sirius squared his shoulders and stepped back into a more relaxed dueling position. He began to fight as he had been taught. He brought his wand up with the intention of reflecting Wormtail's next spell; this was the logical thing to do when a magically weaker opponent somehow took advantage of a nearly complete opening.

He had not expected the spell in question to be "Avada Kedavra." The magical energy hit his wand with the weight of the castle. Sirius staggered backward. An acidic feeling ripped through his veins, but somehow he felt that he was floating as the curse left his wand and caught Wormtail full in the chest.

Wormtail toppled to the ground.

Sirius' wand slipped from suddenly numb fingers.

He felt a hand guiding him to one of the chairs that had managed not to be overturned by the duel. "You've never cast Dark Magic before. You can expect to feel lightheaded." Dumbledore had returned, with McGonagall in tow. She was kneeling beside Wormtail's prone body. Her quick nod to Dumbledore assured Sirius that his former friend was indeed deceased.

"I didn't cast Dark Magic," Sirius protested weakly.

"You reflected it. The magical effect is the same although the legal effect is not."

Sirius slumped back in his chair. He was at last guilty of the crime for which he had been imprisoned.

He had not enjoyed it as much as he had expected.