Realizations

Chapter 15 - Mr. Wrong

Saturday, July 15, 1995

Arabella and Remus dusted themselves off, and moved away from the Leaky Cauldron's fireplace. "Tom!" Arabella called brightly, spotting the old innkeeper and hurrying toward him.

Tom turned from watching Harry and the Wrights exit into muggle London, and graced the witch with one of his toothless grins. "Well as I live and breathe! Arabella Figg! It's been ages! Here, this table is free," Tom began, starting to usher her over, but Belle stopped him.

"We can't stay, Tom," she said with a slightly apologetic look on her face. "I was hoping I could get some take away."

Tom looked up and saw Remus Lupin standing slightly behind Arabella. "Sorry Remus, I didn't see you there."

"It's all right, Tom, I usually try to keep a low profile."

Tom nodded his understanding. A restrictive new law concerning werewolves had been passed by the ministry a couple of years ago. Tom, himself, was of two minds about it. On one hand, no one could deny that werewolves were frightfully dangerous creatures, and should be treated with extreme caution. On the other hand, great strides had been made in the study of lycanthropy in recent years. The Wolfsbane Potion, for example, was a triumph in that regard, and afforded some measure of control to those unfortunate enough to suffer the curse.

Tom squirmed inwardly, as he invited Remus and Arabella to follow him over to the bar so they could sit while he took their order. He had been friendly with Sirius Black and James Potter during their Hogwarts years and after, so he had gotten to know their friends as well. It always amazed him that they were so comfortable in the company of a werewolf. Especially after James married Lily, and Harry came along.

Tom remembered once when the Marauders had come to the Leaky Cauldron for dinner. Lupin had finished first, and was holding Harry so James and Lily could eat. Harry had seemed perfectly content, but Tom recalled having to squash a mad urge to snatch the baby out of the werewolf's arms, and scold the parents roundly for being so careless. It was a maddening dichotomy. He had grown to like Remus Lupin over the years, but evidently some prejudices were easier to overcome than others.

Remus and Arabella were seated now, and looking at him expectantly. Tom shook his head a little, then smiled at them. "Sorry. My mind wandered there for a minute. So, what can I get for you? The Shepherd's Pie has been very popular tonight," he offered.

Arabella glanced at Remus who shrugged amiably. Shepherd's Pie sounded fine to him. "That sounds fine, Tom. We'll take three orders, and six bottles of butterbeer," Mrs. Figg decided. "And that will be all unless you happen to have something that will do for breakfast."

"As a matter of fact, I have some lovely currant buns in the kitchen, but they're still rising. If it isn't too much trouble, perhaps you could nip 'round tomorrow."

Mrs. Figg smiled. "Yes, or I could just go shopping." At Tom's politely interested look she elaborated, "I've been away for the last couple of weeks, and desperately need to re-stock the pantry."

Tom chuckled. "Right, then," he said, disappearing into the kitchen.

The two sat in silence for a few minutes, waiting for Tom's return. Belle couldn't help but notice Remus seemed to be sniffling a little. Finally her curiosity got the better of her. "Catching a cold, Remus, or do you need a hanky?"

Lupin sniffed again, then blinked at her. "What? Oh. No. Sorry, I caught a scent that's awfully familiar, but I lost it..." Remus trailed off frowning, then shook his head. "There are to many smells in here--its confusing."

"I thought you keep a charm on your nose to block that out," Arabella said, lowering her voice so no one would overhear.

"I do right before the full moon. That's when the wolf traits are at their peak, but even then I don't completely cut off my sense of smell," Remus said with a shudder. "That would be about the same as going blind. I just tone it down to a more manageable level."

"But what about enhanced senses, and the unfair advantage the ministry was going on about?"

Remus sighed. "That's a very good example of the saying 'a little knowledge is a dangerous thing.' It's true that I'm stronger than the average person my size, my senses are sharper, and I tend to be able to pick up on others' moods. These are advantageous, yes, but what people fail to take into consideration, is my human form is nowhere near as efficient as my wolf shape.

"My sense of smell is enhanced, for example, but humans really do have a pathetic sense of smell as compared to other animals. I can identify scents, which is more than most can do, but its hard to process. Especially in an environment like this with the food, the smoke, people coming and going... Moony or Snuffles would be able to pick out the scent, identify it, determine its age, follow its trail if necessary." The werewolf tested the air again, then shook his head and shrugged dismissively. "It will come to me. This usually happens when I catch a whiff of someone I know that I haven't seen in a while."

Arabella nodded her understanding then the two settled into a comfortable silence. Smiling softly, Arabella looked around the Leaky Cauldron, reacquainting herself with its interior. It hadn't changed much since the last time she'd been in, but something seemed different. Actually, Belle noticed admiringly, the whole place was looking really nice. Rising from her seat, she turned in a slow circle, taking in the main dining area, and bar.

In the course of her inspection, her eyes fell on Tom's guest book, laying open, ready to be signed. Struck by an inspiration, she casually walked over to it. Witches and wizards often consulted the log to see if any of their friends were in the Alley, so no one would think her actions odd. A glance at the current page showed the guests from late June to the present--and Harry was not among them.

Remus arched an eyebrow when she returned to her seat. "Anything?" he asked hopefully.

Mrs. Figg shook her head, feeling stupid for even trying. "No. I just thought perhaps..." she trailed off and sighed. "The whole thing just infuriates me," she snapped bitterly.

"What's that dear?" Tom asked conversationally, returning with their order floating gracefully before him.

Lupin and Figg exchanged a glance. They had wondered if Harry had gone to Diagon Alley before leaving. If he had, the old innkeeper was sure to know about it. However, they were on strict orders to keep quiet until Voldemort made his move, and that made them reluctant to ask. They couldn't afford word getting around that Harry's muggle relatives had relocated. Not yet, at least. Besides, they could ask Harry personally in a couple of days--provided there was anything left after Albus, Sirius, and Molly finished with him.

Forcing a smile, Arabella waved an airy hand. "I'm having some difficulty with one of my muggle neighbors," she extemporized. "Quite annoying, really, not being able to hex them properly."

Tom smiled back at her. "Temper, temper, Mrs. Figg," he teased, before becoming more brisk and businesslike. "Here's your order," he said unnecessarily, as the neatly wrapped bundles landed on the bar. "Could I get you anything else? Treacle Pudding, perhaps?" he nudged, shamelessly tempting Remus, who he knew had a fondness for the dessert. He knew he'd been successful when the man's amber eyes lit up.

"How much?" Lupin asked, reaching into a pocket and pulling out a few coins.

"For you, three Sickles," Tom waved his wand, and an additional package which had been hovering behind his back joined the others on the bar. "I took the liberty of dishing it up when I filled the rest of your order," he grinned.

"You know me too well, Tom," the werewolf said sheepishly. "I'm not sure this is a good thing."

"Nonsense! It's good business, my boy, that's all," Tom assured him. "People notice when you make an effort to recall their names and likes and dislikes. It isn't that much trouble, and it gives the Cauldron an edge over some of the larger, fancier places."

Remus smiled, and sniffed the Shepherd's Pie and Treacle Pudding appreciatively. Turning, he slanted a mischievous look at his companion, and waggled his eyebrows. "Can we have dessert first Arabella? Please?"

Belle rolled her eyes in an eloquent "Why me" gesture, then smiled and shook her head fondly, as she and Remus counted out their payment. "By the way, Tom," she said, as she picked up the pudding and the butterbeer, "I love what you've done with the place."

"Ah, yes," Tom beamed proudly. "Well I can't take all the credit for that. I hired some help for the summer, and its been one of the best decisions I ever made."

Remus picked up the Shepherds Pie as they prepared to leave, then looked hopefully at Mrs. Figg. "Is that too much for you to carry, Arabella? I could carry some more," he offered, looking pointedly at the order of dessert.

Mrs. Figg gave him an ironic look. "I'm not daft or thick, Remus Lupin. If I let you anywhere near this pudding it will be gone before we get home."

"But we're apparating!"

"I'm sure you'd manage."

Remus balanced the food on his left hand, and put his right hand over his heart. "Arabella! You wound me!"

"No, I know you, and mind you don't drop that," Belle said with a wicked smile. "Goodbye, Tom. Thanks for everything."

"Goodbye, you two. Come again soon for a proper visit," Tom chided gently as the pair took their leave.

"We will, Tom," Arabella promised as she and Remus stepped through the door leading to Diagon Alley, and Apparated back to Little Whinging.

Severus Snape closed his eyes against the rush of wind and color as he clutched Voldemort's portkey in one hand, and a small case containing his notes, and an assortment of potions in the other. Vaguely, he wondered where he would land.

Albus had wanted to put a small tracking charm on him, but as usual Snape had refused. Now he wondered if he might have been a bit hasty. He had been in transit an awfully long time, and had no idea where he might end up. Voldemort had been known to portkey unsuspecting victims into all sorts of unpleasant places, with results both fatal and not. The Potions Master could still remember one unfortunate who's portkey had dumped him into an active volcano. The silly sot had been flash-fried before he even realized he was in danger.

Severus didn't think he was doomed to meet the same end. Not this trip anyway. Voldemort needed him to administer the memory potion and question Wormtail. Snape shuddered in spite of himself. If the dark wizard ever found out the extent of his duplicity, Voldemort would probably take obscene pleasure in sending him back to Albus one piece at a time. Snape quickly clamped off that train of thought. No, he wouldn't speculate. He would need his wits about him when he arrived at where ever he was going, and that certainly wouldn't happen if he reduced himself to babbling hysteria. It was enough to say that his death would not be easy, or quick.

Unless he took matters into his own hands, of course. No, if things got to that point he would die on his own terms. Since taking up the mantle of spy again, Severus had begun carrying a tiny vial of one of the deadliest poisons known to wizard kind. It was odorless, tasteless, nearly instantaneous, one small dose would do the job, and there was no known antidote. He hoped it wouldn't become necessary, but it was always best to be prepared.

The trip ended with characteristic suddenness. Snape felt his feet slam into the ground, and fought to keep his balance. Portkey travelers, more often than not, overbalanced when they arrived at their destination, and ended up sprawled on the ground in an ungainly heap. It might seem silly to some, but dignity was very important to the Potion Master.

When he regained his equilibrium, he looked around and found himself in a rather ramshackle cottage. Strange. He had expected to land at the manor house Voldemort had been using as headquarters, but no matter. Voldemort was sitting in a comfortable-looking chair by the fire, and Wormtail was squeezed into a corner, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible.

"Welcome, Severus," Voldemort said, his red eyes bright with anticipation.

Obediently, Snape knelt at his "master's" feet. "My lord," he replied simply.

"I trust your delay was justified," the dark wizard prodded, making the fine hairs on Severus's neck stand on end. "I do not appreciate being kept waiting."

"Yes, my lord. I had an opportunity to test the potion on another animagus."

Voldemort narrowed his eyes at Snape's bowed head. "And you exploited this opportunity, I trust?"

"I observed the effects of the potion, and composed some questions that may be useful for getting the information you desire in the shortest possible time, Master."

"Ah, Severus, always the scholar," Voldemort said in a disappointed tone, lifting his wand in a threatening manner. "You had a witch or wizard helpless before you! Did it not occur to you to determine if they had any useful knowledge?"

Snape was sure his "master" was about two seconds from punishing him with the Cruciatus Curse. At times like this he missed Albus more than he could express. "It did, my lord, but I was in a meeting in the headmaster's office," he said hastily, hoping to deflect Voldemort's anger. "It came up completely by chance, due to a random twist of conversation. I could not question him as I wished with so many witnesses, and it would have taken even more time if I'd tried to get him alone."

Voldemort was silent for a time, obviously trying to find fault with what Snape reported. Finally, he lowered his wand, and laid it across his lap. "Very well, but know I expect better from you in the future. Rise, Severus. Let us begin."

"Yes, my lord," Snape replied, standing in a swirl of black robes, and smoothing his windblown hair. Turning to the other wizard in the room, he nodded curtly, "Wormtail."

Reluctantly, Peter Pettigrew came forward. "Snape," he responded in kind.

"May I transfigure some chairs, Master?" Snape remembered to ask, just as he had been about to Accio some pieces of firewood over for that purpose. At Voldemort's lofty wave of permission, he pointed his wand at the woodpile, and summoned three pieces of kindling over. Soon, he and Peter were seated in two rather utilitarian chairs with a sturdy table between them. He allowed himself a second to sneer at the memory of James Potter. Whatever else the man was, he was excellent at Transfiguration. He would have conjured up a furniture grouping that looked like it was taken straight from Buckingham Palace just to show that he could.

Bah! James Potter is the least of your worries, Severus. If you want to live through this war you'd do well to remember that. Snape counseled himself, reaching for his case, and lining up his potion bottles on the table.

"Drink this," he ordered without preamble, holding out a dose of the orange memory potion.

Peter gingerly took the vial and looked at it mistrustfully. His reaction was so similar to Black's, that Snape found himself fighting to keep a straight face. Even after all these years, the members of Potter's little gang still acted like they expected him to poison them given any opportunity.

Inwardly, Severus squirmed a little. Fifteen or twenty years ago their fears wouldn't have been groundless. He'd been an angry, misunderstood, and tormented youth. Given the chance, he would have force fed the lot of them the vilest poison he could find, and laughed while they died in agony.

"Are you waiting for any particular occasion, Wormtail," Voldemort asked impatiently, startling the two wizards at the table.

"I have no guarantees that this potion is safe, my lord. Snape has always hated me." Peter protested in an uncharacteristically bold manner. Rat's survival instinct, the potion master supposed, wondering not for the first time how Pettigrew had managed to befriend Black, Potter, and Lupin.

"Severus does not have permission to kill you," Voldemort said, dismissing Pettigrew's concerns, and interrupting Snape's musings. When Pettigrew still hesitated, he growled, "Although that could change."

The Dark Lord's threat was not lost on the former marauder. Peter grasped the vial in his new silver hand, and quickly drank the contents down.

Snape observed clinically as the potion began to take effect. Initially, Pettigrew closed his eyes, and swayed slightly in his seat as Black had done, but that's where the similarities ended. When Black had been firmly under the potion's power, his face had lit up with awe and wonder. Traces of anger, sadness, and regret could be seen occasionally, but on the whole he had been calm, as though he was comforted by the memories of his more carefree days. Perhaps he still had difficulty remembering the good times prior to the Potters' murder, and Azkaban.

Pettigrew by contrast, looked pained and regretful. Frowning, Snape watched warily as the other wizard broke into a cold sweat and began to shake his head and mutter denials. "Damn," he muttered furiously, even as his fingers automatically sought out a vial of Calming Potion. Why can't anything ever be easy? he snarled irritably, roughly prying Peter's clenched teeth apart, and pouring the potion down his throat.

"So tell me about yourself," Janet suggested, as she and Harry made their way up the street. "You and Tom know all about me, so it's your turn."

"Not much to tell, really," the boy responded, with a grin. "I go to boarding school, and I have a summer job at the Leaky Cauldron."

"Do you have any hobbies, or interests?"

Harry shrugged. "I like sports," he said, after a minute. "I play on my House team at school."

"House?"

Harry nodded. "There are four houses within my school. Students are assigned a house in their first year." Janet nodded encouragingly, so he went on.

"Every year there are two competitions. One is which team does the best, and the other is the House Cup. The points earned by the House teams are added to any points students earn with correct answers and proper behavior. Points are lost if students are caught breaking rules or misbehaving. Whichever house has the most points at the end of the year wins."

"And has your house won?"

Beaming, Harry nodded.

"So what about your family?" Janet asked innocently. She knew immediately she had hit a nerve when Harry's jaw unconsciously tightened. She wasn't sure if he would answer, but after a few seconds he said, "My parents were killed when I was a baby. I was sent to live with my aunt and uncle."

Sensing this was not a comfortable subject, Janet nodded. Reaching out, she gave his arm a little squeeze. "I'm sorry about your parents, Jim," she said, then delicately let the subject drop.

"Janet?" he ventured after they had walked a little way in silence. It felt a little odd to be addressing her in this manner, but she had insisted.

"Hmm?"

"I want to ask you something, but I'm afraid it's going to come out sounding insulting."

Jan's lips twitched in amusement. "Well, since you're obviously dying to ask, I'll try not to be insulted."

Harry blew his breath out through his teeth, then decided the direct approach was probably best. "I was just wondering...can you tell me why you trust me? I--I mean...well...it's just that..."

"No, it's all right. I understand," Janet said, with a thoughtful frown, "and it's a fair question. I'm not usually this comfortable with someone I've just met," she said, smiling sheepishly up at Harry.

"Me either."

"I'm afraid I really can't give you a definitive answer. This may sound a little, well, strange, because its more feelings than facts," Janet continued, after a minute. "I don't completely understand it myself."

Now it was Harry's turn to nod encouragingly.

"All I know is this afternoon I was more scared than I had ever been in my life. I was running up the street, and I couldn't see the girls anywhere and..." Janet trailed off, apparently having lost her nerve.

"You're killing me here," Harry finally prodded. "Come on, I promise I won't laugh," he coaxed when she continued to hesitate.

I'm less worried about you laughing, and more worried about you running away in terror with my kid still on your back."

Harry grinned at her. "Won't happen," he declared firmly, shifting Kitty to a more comfortable position. "My headmaster once awarded me sixty points for 'pure nerve and outstanding courage.'"

"Did he now?"

"Yeah. Long story."

"I'll bet. I'd like to hear it sometime," Janet smiled. She walked a little farther, then realized Harry was still waiting for her explanation. "Look, I don't know what happened, okay?" she finally said, looking more than a little frustrated. "It might have been gut instinct, or a lucky guess, or I might have had a psychic moment." She stopped Becky's stroller and flung her arms wide. "My guardian angel could have whispered in my ear, for all I know. The only thing I'm sure of, is this afternoon, when I saw you on the street, I knew somehow that you were okay, and you'd be able to help me." She crossed her arms and looked up at Harry, as though expecting him to scoff. "Well, go on. Say it," she prompted impatiently. "I know it sounds crazy."

Harry shrugged helplessly, not really knowing what to say. It didn't sound any crazier than about half a dozen things he could think of offhand. Actually, he could kind of identify with what she was describing. He'd only managed to confuse and frustrate Hermione and Ron the times he'd tried to describe how things just came to him, sometimes. "So, erm, has this ever happened before?" he ventured, when Janet grasped the stroller handles and continued up the street.

Surprised, Janet stared at him a second, then relaxed fractionally, and shrugged. "Maybe," she said consideringly. "It's hard to say for sure. My gut feelings are usually right, but not always. It could be coincidence. And even if it is some kind of weird perception, they're few and far between."

Divination wasn't exactly Harry's favorite class, but he was interested in spite of himself. "So is it just people, then?" he asked, thinking of his own capricious gift.

"No," Janet said thoughtfully, amazed that he'd picked up the thread of the conversation, and relieved that he wasn't looking at her like she'd grown another head. Most of the males she knew, especially the young ones, were uncomfortable with the subject, or tended to laugh it off. "It can be locations, objects... Once I knew without a shadow of a doubt that I had a letter from my boyfriend at the time in the mailbox, and furthermore, I knew I was not going to like what he had to say."

"And were you right?"

"Yeah...but I remember that incident because it was unusual. Most of the time it isn't that precise," Janet paused, remembering for a second, then threw Harry a mischievous look. "It would be nice if I could tune in to useful information for a change. Winning lottery numbers, for example."

"Yeah," Harry laughed, "that would be cool."

They talked of little, inconsequential things after that, and all too soon they rounded one last corner, and Janet stopped Becky's stroller in front of a modest townhouse. "Here we are," she said, with a flourish.

Harry nodded. "Nice place," he said with a smile.

"Well it will be, once we finish unpacking," Jan commented wryly, fumbling for her keys. "It looks more like a box factory than a home at the moment." She looked at Harry speculatively and seemed to debate with herself for a minute. "If you have the time and can put up with the mess, you'll have to come by and see us," she finally offered.

"I'd like that, thank you," Harry said honestly. "But only if you agree to come see me at the Leaky Cauldron as well!"

"Oh, we will. Don't worry about that," Jan beamed. "I can't wait for my husband, Steve, to get here. I'm sure he'll love it, too. Oh!" she exclaimed softly. "Kitty must be getting heavy, and Tom is expecting you back, and I'm chattering on..."

Harry watched her open the door, turn on the lights, then lift the stroller, bags, Becky, and all over the threshold. When this was done, she turned back to him, and plucked her noodle-limp daughter off his back. "There are times I'm grateful she sleeps like a rock," Janet said fondly, raising Kitty up so she could kiss her forehead.

"Alright, then?" Harry asked, feeling a little useless now that he wasn't carrying Kitty anymore.

"Yeah. Thanks again for being such a big help."

"It was nothing," Harry shrugged good naturedly. "That's what friends are for, right?" he asked hesitantly.

"Absolutely," Janet replied firmly. She shifted Kitty slightly, then shrugged and grinned up at him. "I'd shake on it, but my hands are full."

"I noticed," Harry observed dryly, as he returned her smile. "Next time, then?" he asked, still a little unsure of himself as he turned to go.

"You've got it." Janet said, watching from her doorway as he started back toward the Leaky Cauldron. When he reached the intersection, he paused long enough to wave and call "Sleep well!" over his shoulder before turning the corner, and vanishing from sight. That's one heck of a nice kid, she mused, closing the door, and setting about putting her sleeping daughters to bed.

Snape was not in a good mood. This was not going the way he'd hoped.

Note to self: Memory Potion should not be mixed with Calming Potion. Ever.

Peter had responded to the Calming Potion, then proceeded to be spectacularly sick. Snape hadn't been expecting this, but, he really should have. It was only natural for Pettigrew to have a weak stomach after all.

Luckily, his case was full of all sorts of potions, draughts, and elixirs. One never knew when they might come in handy, after all. After a couple of false starts, he hit upon the correct combination of remedies that would allow him to administer the Memory Potion successfully, and Peter was now sitting dreamily before him.

Irritably, Severus reached for his wand, and muttered some cleaning charms. A keen sense of smell was useful in potion-making, but right now it was rather distracting. When the immediate area was at least tolerable, he turned back to the dark wizard. "I believe we are ready to begin, Master."

"Excellent, Severus. Proceed," Voldemort instructed, laying aside the copy of the Daily Prophet he'd been reading. The Dark Lord had been uncharacteristically tolerant of the delays. He hadn't cast the Cruciatus Curse even once. Evidently he had anticipated that this to take a while, and had come prepared.

Or else he realized that having to deal with a sick person was adequate punishment for the rather fastidious potion master.

Pushing aside his uncharitable thoughts, Snape nodded, and turned back to Wormtail. "Can you hear me?"

There was a pause before Peter answered. "Yes." Like Black, his attention seemed riveted elsewhere, almost like he had to make an effort to return to the present. Fascinating.

"I need you to remember fall of 1981," Snape prompted. "After you framed Black, blew up the street, and escaped in your rat form."

"No, I'd really rather not. Can we talk about how I became an animagus instead?"

Snape blinked. He hadn't expected resistance. Backing up, he tried a different approach. It had been his intent to guide Pettigrew from his escape down the sewers to his adoption by the Weasleys. Perhaps he could skip ahead a few questions. "How did you come to live in the Weasley household?"

"I chanced upon the family in Diagon Alley. Their son Percy wanted a pet, and was causing a bit of a scene. He was feeling a little isolated. The two oldest brothers were close, the twins were inseparable, Ron was just a year old at time, and his parents' attention was focused on the new baby girl. Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately for me, the family was a little short on funds, and couldn't really afford frivolities like pets. It was easy to ingratiate myself to the boy. He was only five or so at the time. I made him happy, and his parents allowed him to keep me."

"So you started out as Percy Weasley's rat? How did you wind up with Ronald Weasley?"

"Percy Weasley was made a school prefect his fifth year. His parents bought him an owl for the occasion. Ronald was just getting ready to start his first year at Hogwarts, so I was given to him. The Weasleys don't believe in wasting anything."

"I see. So when did Ronald happen to meet Harry Potter?"

"Harry came up to the Weasley family as they were preparing to cross the barrier leading to Platform 9¾. I recognized him almost immediately, of course. Even before I saw him. There's something of James and Lily in his scent. He hadn't been told how to get onto the platform, so Molly told him what to do. I didn't see him again until Ron boarded the train. All the other compartments were full, so he wound up sitting with Harry."

"And they became friends during the course of the year?"

"Yes. Ron and Harry became inseparable almost immediately. After Halloween, they became chummy with another first year named Hermione Granger."

"Yes," Snape replied drily. "So at the end of the year, the three made plans to visit one another?"

"Yes. Ron asked his mother straightaway if Harry could come to stay. She agreed, and a week or so later, he sent his first invitation. A few days later, he sent another. It went on like that for a couple of weeks."

"Potter didn't respond?"

"No. The rest of the family were puzzled, but shrugged it off. They thought Harry must have changed his mind, or was perhaps on holiday or otherwise unavailable. Only Ron and the twins seemed to think something was wrong."

"Why did they suspect?" Snape asked before he could stop himself. This question wasn't entirely relevant to the matter at hand, but Arthur Weasley's story was still nagging at him.

Fortunately, neither Voldemort nor Wormtail seemed to notice.

"Harry told Ron a bit about his home life, although I could tell he held back quite a bit. Fred and George knew Harry was responsible and dependable from being on the Quidditch team with him. Besides, they knew he wanted to visit, so his silence seemed suspicious," Peter was reporting candidly.

"How did they find his address?" Severus asked, beginning to drive toward his goal. Potter's records at the ministry were sealed, and his whereabouts were almost a state secret.

"Harry gave it to Ron before they left Hogwarts."

Snape nodded, barely resisting the urge to roll his eyes in disgust. Obviously. Evidently no one bothered to tell Potter than he shouldn't hand his address out. Of course at the time, it hadn't been that much of an issue. "And what was the address?"

"...I don't remember."

"Concentrate, man! This is important. They must have mentioned where they were going."

"It was...near London. Surrey, I believe. Yes, Surrey. They were talking and eating Bertie Bott's every flavor beans. I'd found a strawberry flavored one, and was eating it while they were talking. They were trying to determine of the car had enough fuel to get there and back."

"Where in Surrey does Potter live?" Severus pressed, chancing a nervous glance at Voldemort out of the corner of his eye. The Dark Lord was sitting on the edge of his seat now, his eyes intense with anticipation.

"Does it matter? The beans were much more interesting. They also had some of Molly's ginger snaps and cold pumpkin juice. Ron was always very good about sharing with me. Percy took good care of me, but he always expected me to sleep in a cage and eat rat food."

"It matters a great deal," Severus snapped irritably. Leaning close he hissed in Peter's ear, "You remember the Cruciatus Curse don't you? Because I can guarantee you're about to become reacquainted with it if you don't stop thinking with your stomach and concentrate!"

Peter blinked up at his fearfully, shocked out of his reminiscence. Fortunately, the Calming Potion did its job, so he didn't suffer another panic attack, but he paled slightly, and broke into a light sweat. Closing his eyes, he tried to concentrate.

"We'll take it one step at a time. This may help," Snape said, trying to be reassuring, as he took a magical atlas out of his case. The book had pre-printed maps, and several work pages that witches and wizards could use to conjure directions, routes, and so on. He flipped through it until he found a rather detailed map of Surrey, England and put it on the table in front of Wormtail. "Which village in Surrey does Potter live in?"

"It had a funny name," Peter said, frowning at the list of towns that accompanied the map. "Crying...complaining...no! Whinging! Little Whinging! Right here!" he exclaimed, pointing a triumphant finger.

"Excellent. Now the address?" Snape pressed implacably.

"Address?" Peter squeaked, aghast. He ran his fingers through his thinning hair, then squeaked again in fright when he caught sight of Voldemort impatiently tapping his wand on the arm of his chair. By the look in the dark wizard's red eyes, he was just about at the end of his patience, and more than ready to start hurling curses.

Swallowing audibly, Pettigrew locked eyes with Snape, silently pleading for help The Hogwarts professor frowned and consulted his prepared questions again. If he wasn't mistaken, they had anticipated Peter might falter at the address. Now it was time for some artfully leading questions. He couldn't make it too easy, or Voldemort might catch on to the fact that he, Severus, knew Potter's address.

Turning to a work page, he tapped the atlas with his wand, and said, "Tabula Via* Little Whinging." An alphabetical list of street names began to appear on the page.

Wormtail scanned the list once, twice, then raked his fingers through his hair again. "I don't remember!" he wailed hysterically. "I can't remember!"

Ah. The Calming Potion must be wearing off. Snape automatically reached for the vials needed for a second dose, but Voldemort stopped him.

"Don't bother, Severus. Crucio! " he commanded, pointing his wand at the cowering wizard.

Snape tried not to wince too noticeably when the curse slammed into Pettigrew, fueled by Voldemort's anger and frustration. The little rat-faced man howled in pain for almost a full minute, before the dark lord relented, and released him from the curse. When it was over, he was pale and shaking, but, to give credit where it was due, Snape had to admit, Peter wasn't babbling anymore. The Cruciatus Curse was a bit much, though. A sharp slap across the mouth probably would have sufficed.

Now it was time to drop the hint. "If I may, Master," he said respectfully to Voldemort, "Wormtail seems to be...over stressed. Perhaps he might remember if we let him have a little privacy."

"He has two minutes," Voldemort growled menacingly. "After that, he will have outlived his usefulness."

Well, that's done it, Snape thought bitterly, as he discreetly watched Pettigrew blanch and begin to sweat even more profusely. He was certain the other wizard was terrorized beyond logical thought, but suddenly Peter's eyes lit up. Severus smiled inwardly, pleased he had taken the bait. Maybe, just maybe...

"Privacy, privacy..." Peter muttered desperately, with the air of a man who was just on the verge of recalling something. "No...not privacy. Private. Yes. Private. That sounds right..." he muttered, looking more closely at the P's. "Primrose, Princeton...PRIVET!" Wormtail jumped out of his chair in excitement. "PRIVET!" he exclaimed again. "PRIVET DRIVE! Harry Potter lives with Vernon and Petunia Dursley at NUMBER FOUR PRIVET DRIVE!" he crowed in victory, before crumpling to the floor in a dead faint.

* Tabula Via - Latin for "List Street"