"I love it, I really do," Ron wanted to shout.
But saying that would mean giving up Scabbers, and that was a tough pill to swallow.
"Dudley, does it have to be Scabbers?" Ron asked glumly.
He and Scabbers had a bond. They'd spent countless days and nights together. No matter how much he liked the idea of a Niffler, Ron couldn't trade his pet for another. It was a matter of principle.
"Yes," Dudley said firmly.
"Scabbers was originally Charlie's pet," Ron explained, referring to the Weasleys' second son. "Then it went to Percy. The year before I started at Hogwarts, Percy gave him to me."
"He's just an ordinary rat, nothing special, but in those years when I didn't have any friends, Scabbers was there for me."
Ron cradled Scabbers, gently stroking his glossy fur. The listless rat seemed to sense his affection, nuzzling Ron's hand and even giving his finger a tiny lick. It was a picture of pure loyalty between pet and owner.
"He was my first friend—my only friend back then," Ron said, holding Scabbers close and pressing a soft kiss to the rat's forehead. His voice grew steadier, more resolute. "Dudley, if you were asking for Scabbers for any other reason, I'd hand him over without hesitation. But if it's to feed that big cat of yours… I'm sorry, I can't give you my friend."
Ron shut his eyes, looking like a man ready to face a Dementor rather than betray his companion.
"Not bad, Ron. Not bad at all," Dudley said, clapping lightly. His expression was a mix of two parts approval, one part admiration, and seven parts something he wasn't saying. "If you'd agreed right away, I'd have thought less of you."
Dudley's face turned especially peculiar when he saw Ron kiss Scabbers' forehead. Hope he can handle what's coming, he thought.
"You and Scabbers really have something special," Dudley added.
"Of course! We eat together, sleep together—we're as close as it gets. That's our bond," Ron said, rubbing his cheek against Scabbers, who returned the gesture.
"…"
After a brief, awkward silence, Dudley spoke again. "Ron, there's something I need to tell you."
"As far as I know, your pet rat Scabbers has been with your family for twelve years, right?"
"Yeah, that's right," Ron nodded, not seeing the issue.
Dudley sighed. Hogwarts didn't teach Muggle biology, let alone basic animal facts. "Ron, a rat—especially a common brown rat like Scabbers—has a lifespan of about two to three years."
Scabbers' whiskers twitched slightly, though he still looked half-dead.
"Do you know what that means?" Dudley's tone grew serious.
"It means Scabbers is really old?" Ron answered, sounding puzzled.
Dudley: …
"I'm saying a rat can't possibly live for twelve years. Even the longest-lived ones would've died years ago."
Scabbers' whiskers trembled more noticeably.
"Dudley… what are you getting at?" Ron asked, just as Dudley thought he was catching on. "Wait—"
Here it comes, Dudley thought.
"Scabbers is already dead, and this is… Scabbers' ghost?!" Ron gasped.
Dudley: …
"Aren't you going to show your true form?" Dudley said, ignoring Ron and staring directly at Scabbers. "I'm thinking the Imperius Curse might loosen your tongue."
Dudley didn't actually know the Imperius Curse—no one had taught him—but that didn't stop him from using it as a bluff.
"Dudley, what are you talking about—what the—?!" Ron's jaw dropped as his chubby pet rat began to swell rapidly, transforming before their eyes.
In moments, Scabbers was no longer a rat but a man—short, stout, and undeniably ugly. His face was covered in red pimples, and his greasy, balding head practically gleamed. Even from a distance, Ron could smell the overpowering stench of hair oil.
Peter Pettigrew.
"Scabbers…" Ron stammered, collapsing onto the floor in shock. How did Dudley turn Scabbers into a person with a Transfiguration spell? And why is he so ugly?
Peter, unaware of Ron's thoughts, assumed the boy was paralyzed with fear. He snatched Ron's wand in a flash, feeling a flicker of safety now that he was armed—especially since Dudley didn't seem to have a wand.
"R-respectable Mr. D-Dursley," Peter stuttered, "I-I mean no offense, I swear… I have no ill intentions."
His words were polite, but his wand stayed trained on Dudley. His tiny eyes darted around, lingering on the door as if expecting something to burst in.
As Scabbers, Peter had stayed by Ron's side for years, so he knew exactly who Dudley was—a prodigy, possibly the most talented young wizard in decades, surpassing even James Potter and Sirius Black in their prime. This was the guy who'd humbled even the arrogant Lucius Malfoy. But he was still just a young wizard, and crucially, he was wandless.
Peter wasn't about to give him an opening.
"Don't move—yes, good, just like that," Peter said, relaxing slightly when Dudley didn't budge. Curiosity got the better of him. "How did you figure it out?"
Animagus transformations were flawless. Once transformed, they were indistinguishable from normal animals. Peter had lived with the Weasleys for twelve years without raising suspicion.
Dudley just gave him a cool glance, sitting calmly in his chair without answering.
"F-fine, Mr. Dursley," Peter stammered, giving up. "Let's just… pretend this never happened."
He raised Ron's wand, preparing to cast a Memory Charm on both of them. Killing them wasn't his plan—murder at Hogwarts was messy, and besides, he didn't think they knew his true identity. If they didn't know who he was, they weren't a threat. Wiping their memories was the safest move. It would let him stay hidden by Ron's side.
With Sirius Black out there, hunting him, Hogwarts was the safest place to be.
Normally, Peter would've spun a sob story to win them over—he was good at playing the victim. But with Dementors swarming outside and Black lurking, he didn't have time.
"Oblivi—"