The Shadow and the Rat - Part 1
POV Filius Umbra
The heat of a London summer meant nothing in the depths of the Court of Owls' headquarters. My office, an ancient stone cubicle lit by flickering torches, remained perpetually cool, almost cold. The dampness from the city's foundations seemed to seep through the walls, carrying the weight of centuries of secrets. I preferred it this way. The cold helped to clarify thoughts, and clarity was what I needed most at that moment.
I was awaiting a visit from Lady Greengrass, one of the few figures from wizarding high society who dared to deal directly with the Court. Alliances with certain Noble Houses were necessary, though never comfortable. As I waited, my fingers drummed a nervous rhythm on the heavy oak desk, the sound echoing in the nearly empty room.
That's when the memories hit me. This time, unlike the fragmented recollections that had assailed me in previous cases, they came with an almost painful clarity. As with the matters of the first two books—the Philosopher's Stone and the Chamber of Secrets—these visions from what I could only describe as a past life came at a crucial moment, bringing knowledge no wizard should possess.
I saw vivid scenes—a pale, trembling man named Peter Pettigrew transforming into a rat. The betrayal of the Potters. The farce of his death. Sirius Black, his face etched with anguish and fury, screaming: "He died! He died!" on that Muggle street, in front of Muggle witnesses. And then, twelve years later, the truth being revealed chaotically in the Shrieking Shack.
My breath caught in my chest. These memories—this "foreknowledge"—had proven accurate in previous cases. Why doubt them now?
"Wake up, Filius," I whispered to myself, burying my face in my hands. "These visions have never failed me before."
It took me several minutes to regain control. I breathed deeply, pulling the cold, damp air into my lungs, feeling the weight of my cloak of office on my shoulders. The official story was that Peter Pettigrew was dead—killed in the confrontation with Sirius on the Muggle street, leaving only a finger behind. Presumed dead by everyone, including the Ministry of Magic.
But my memories insisted on a different truth. What if Pettigrew, in his characteristic cowardice, had staged not just a death, but the most convincing death possible? A secret spell, a transfiguration trick—he was an unregistered Animagus, after all.
When I finally lifted my head, my mind was clear and focused. The memories were now organized, cataloged like an intelligence report. And one truth stood out above all others, screaming to be heard.
Peter Pettigrew was alive. The death had been a masterful fraud.
A cold smile twisted my lips. For months, since Lily Potter had emerged from her magical coma and, with a lucid mind, not only secured Sirius Black's release but also began the process to prove his innocence, the wizarding world believed the Potters' story was finally being rewritten. The farce of Pettigrew's death, however, remained untouched—everyone still believed he had died heroically facing Sirius.
But the real traitor, the rat, had scuttled away. In the chaos following Sirius's release and the bombshell revelations about Pettigrew's betrayal, no one had questioned the veracity of his death. After all, Muggle witnesses swore they saw him die, and only a finger remained.
What better hiding place than death itself?
Anger boiled in my veins—not a blind heat, but a cold, directed intensity. This man—this rat—was the reason James and Lily Potter had died. He was the key that sealed their fate. And he was living comfortably, pampered and fed, while Sirius rotted in Azkaban and Harry was raised by Muggles who despised him.
This ended today.
"Ada," I said, my voice echoing in the empty room, laden with an unyielding authority that made the torches flicker.
There was no sound, no flash of light. Simply, a moment later, she was there. Ada, my most efficient and discreet assistant. A woman of average height, impeccable grey robes, and eyes that saw everything and revealed nothing. She was the operational backbone of the Aegis, the investigative arm of the Court.
"Sir," she inclined her head slightly, her hands resting on the ebony notepad she always carried.
"The session with Lady Greengrass is to be rescheduled. A matter of utmost urgency has arisen," I declared, standing and walking towards the window set into the stone, which showed not the sky, but the magical currents flowing beneath London. "Summon the Aegis Investigation Nucleus. Highest Priority. The subject is the investigation into the possible survival of Peter Pettigrew."
Ada didn't blink, but her quill hesitated for a fraction of a second over the parchment. "Sir? Pettigrew is officially deceased. The Ministry—"
"The Ministry has been wrong before," I interrupted softly. "And our sources... well, our sources suggest Pettigrew's death may have been as false as his loyalty."
"What kind of sources, sir?" she asked, ever meticulous.
"Sources I cannot reveal, but which have proven infallible in the cases of the Philosopher's Stone and the Chamber of Secrets," I responded, turning to face her. My eyes, I knew, must have been burning with the intensity of my conviction. "We operate on the assumption he is alive. And if he is alive, where would a cowardly rat hide?"
She pondered for a moment. "The most obvious place would be far from Britain. Perhaps in—"
"The most obvious place," I interrupted, "would be where no one would look for him. Where his 'death' is accepted as fact. Where he could hide in plain sight."
I then handed her a parchment I had quickly prepared, detailing my suspicions: Pettigrew's possible location at The Burrow, disguised as Scabbers, the Weasley family's pet rat.
"Scabbers?" Ada repeated, for the first time showing genuine surprise. "The young Weasley's old rat? But sir, that is... highly speculative."
"It is," I agreed. "That is why we need investigation, not accusations. But consider: a rat that lives abnormally long, that loses fingers conveniently... and that appeared in the family just after Pettigrew's supposed death."
Ada's eyes narrowed as she processed the information. "It is plausible. But how could an Animagus maintain the form for so long?"
"Desperation, Ada. Pure desperation. He knows that if he returns to human form, he will be hunted. As a rat, he is invisible."
She absorbed the information, her face a mask of professionalism, but I could see the calculations behind her eyes. "The Weasley family... is a respected pure-blood family, with strong ties to Dumbledore. An unauthorized investigation of their property..."
"This is not an invasion," I interrupted, raising a hand. "It is a discreet surveillance operation. The Court has jurisdiction over crimes of high treason that threaten the magical balance, which this case clearly falls under. However, discretion is paramount. Send our best shadow observers. They are to infiltrate the Burrow's protective wards without triggering a single one. Observe and confirm only."
"And what exactly are we looking for?" Ada asked, her quill now moving rapidly across the parchment.
"Anomalies in the rat's behavior. Unusual patterns. Any sign that Scabbers is more than he appears. If my suspicions are correct, he will eventually make a mistake—a subtle act of magic, a moment of intelligence a common rat should not possess."
"And if we are discovered?" Ada asked.
"Immediate withdrawal. I would rather he escape momentarily than cause a diplomatic incident. But this time," I said, my eyes locked on hers, "we are forewarned. We know what to look for. He will not deceive us."
She noted everything down, her quill scraping softly against the parchment. "And the next steps after confirmation, sir?"
"I will inform Lady Potter and the Head of the Auror Office, Shacklebolt, myself," I said. "They need to be involved. Lily Potter has the right to see justice done for the man who killed her best friends. And the Aurors have the legal authority to perform the final capture. The Court operates best in the shadows, but some battles must be fought in the light."
Ada closed her notepad with a soft click. "Immediately, sir. The nucleus will be summoned within five minutes. We will have eyes on The Burrow before sunset."
"Excellent. Keep me informed of any development. And, Ada..."
She stopped at the door, turning back to me.
"No one outside the Aegis and the Investigation Nucleus is to know of this. That includes other members of the Court, the Ministry, and, especially, Albus Dumbledore. Understood?"
A glint of understanding passed through her eyes. She knew as well as I that the webs of power in our world were complex and that Dumbledore's loyalty, while unquestionable in its ultimate goal, did not always align with the Court's methods.
"Perfectly, sir." She inclined her head once more and, just as she had arrived, disappeared into the gloom of the corridor.
Alone again, I took a deep breath. The plan was in motion. The machinery of the Court, slow and deliberate, had begun to turn.
I walked back to my desk, pulling a thin silver thread from a drawer. It was an emergency communicator, linked directly to a similar device carried by Lily Potter. She deserved to know. After all she had been through, after losing years of her life to a coma, after fighting so hard to remake her family and correct the mistakes of the past, she deserved to be the first to know that the ghost haunting her nightmares was about to be confronted.
And then, I would prepare my message for Kingsley Shacklebolt. The Auror Office, under his competent leadership, had become a respectable force. They deserved to play a part in the conclusion of this story.
As I held the silver thread, feeling its soft vibration, my eyes turned to the bare stone wall in front of me. The memories returned—not as an invasion, but as a guide. I saw the scene in the Shrieking Shack, the truth being forcibly torn out, the confusion, the loss of a second chance.
That would not happen this time. This time, there would be no dramatic escapes. No unnecessary deaths. No shadow of a doubt.
If Peter Pettigrew was truly alive—if my vision was once again correct—his burrow was discovered. His charade was over.
And justice, after twelve long years, would finally knock on his door.
The Revelation at The Burrow - Part 2
POV Ron Weasley
It was one of those last days of summer holidays that hurt just to think about ending. I had already done all my shopping in Diagon Alley - finally, finally! - gotten my own personal wand, not a second-, third-, or tenth-hand heirloom from Charlie or the twins. It was mine, willow and unicorn hair, and I could feel the connection every time I held it.
Harry was spending the day at The Burrow, and we had savoured every free minute the twins had between their internships with the Court of Owls. This whole "internship" thing sounded boring, but from what I saw, it was important - they got serious when they talked about it, and the formal robes they wore made them look much older. But today, for a few glorious hours, they had just been my brothers again, playing Quidditch in the orchard until dark.
Now it was night, and the smell of Mum's dinner still filled the house. I washed my hands and face, still feeling that good tiredness from exercise, and ran downstairs. That's when I saw that Mrs. Potter - Lily - had arrived. She hugged Harry with that strength only a mother has, but when her green eyes landed on me, I felt a chill in my gut. It was just for a moment, a strange, intense look, as if she was seeing me for the first time. I shook my head. It must have been my imagination. Why would Harry's mum look at me with anger?
Dinner was as loud and wonderful as always. Mum, perhaps sensing the holidays were ending, had made a feast - roast turkey, mash that melted in your mouth, gravy, and even those carrots I normally detested were good. Harry ate like there was no tomorrow, and Ginny, across the table, kept asking him questions about Hogwarts, probably curious about what her second year would be like now that her first was done.
I was just about to go up to my room, already imagining how I'd pack my new things into my trunk, when I heard the knock on the door.
It wasn't a normal, friendly knock. It was... formal. Heavy. As if whoever was on the other side was certain they would be answered and didn't care about the hour.
"Ronald," my father's voice came from the armchair near the fireplace, where he was resting with the Daily Prophet. "Go see who it is, son."
"Ah, Dad..." I grumbled, reluctant. I was already in my pyjamas!
"Ronald Bilius Weasley!" my mum's voice came from the kitchen, the sound of dishes stopping. "Don't make your parents repeat themselves. Do as you're told."
Muttering under my breath, I dragged my feet to the door. The thick wood of The Burrow's door had always seemed so safe, so strong. But in that moment, I felt exposed. I pulled the handle.
The icy night air entered like a blade, but it was nothing compared to the cold that ran down my spine when I saw who was on the other side.
Four men. Tall, imposing, wearing impeccable black overcoats that reached their ankles. Black leather gloves. Wands in hand, not overtly, but held with a readiness that was more frightening than if they were drawn. And the most frightening thing of all: white and silver owl masks that covered the upper half of their faces, leaving only their chins and mouths visible. Their eyes, behind the mask slits, seemed to pierce the darkness.
My heart stopped. I knew those masks. Everyone did. And on their chests, the badge: an owl with outstretched wings, holding a shield. The Aegis. The legendary wizards, the elite agents of the Court of Owls. They weren't a legend. They were at my door.
I couldn't breathe, I couldn't speak. My whole body was trembling. And then, the four men parted, making way for a fifth figure who walked with a calm that was otherworldly.
It was Professor Umbra. But not the professor who taught Dueling and Magical Battle. This was... different. He wore an immaculate black suit under an open cloak that fell over his shoulders, the fabric seeming to absorb the light around him. His eyes, which in the classroom were penetrating, now shone with an icy tone, a deadly silver colour that made me want to run and hide. He was the source of the cold, the reason for my fear.
"Good evening, young Weasley," his voice was soft, almost a whisper, but it cut through the night air like a blow. "How are you this evening?"
My mouth opened, but no sound came out. My knees were weak. I could only shake my head, a pathetic, trembling movement.
He inclined his head slightly, as if he understood. "May we come in?"
"RONALD!" my mother's voice came from behind me, sharp with alarm. "Don't leave our guests standing outside! Merlin's beard, boy, where are your manners?"
I moved away from the door, my legs moving on their own. Lord Umbra - because in this moment he wasn't a professor, he was a Dark Lord or something - entered our living room. His presence filled the space, making the cosy Burrow suddenly feel small and fragile.
"Lord Weasley," he greeted my father, who had risen from his armchair, his face pale in the firelight. "My apologies for arriving at such an inopportune time."
"Lord Umbra," my father said, his voice a bit shaky. He attempted a smile. "It's a shame you arrived so late, I would have loved to have you join us for dinner." The attempt to lighten the tension was as clear as it was useless.
The great wizard looked around, his silver eyes passing over the fireplace, the photographs on the wall, the clock showing where everyone was. Then, his gaze landed on my pyjama pocket, where Scabbers was fidgeting, restless.
"I appreciate the kindness, Arthur," he said, and his voice was polished like steel. "But, unfortunately, I am here on a matter of utmost urgency." He turned to me, and I felt like I was about to be devoured. "Ronald. Do you have your pet rat with you?"
The question was so absurd, so unexpected, that for a second fear gave way to confusion. "S-Scabbers?" I stammered. "Yes... he's here."
My hands were shaking so much I could barely get them into my pocket. When I touched Scabbers' coarse fur, he stirred, more than usual. I pulled him out, holding the old, lazy rat in my palm. He smelled strange, his black eye seemed more frightened than mine.
Lord Umbra extended his hand, black gloves and all. "May I have him for a moment?"
I extended my hand, obediently, still stunned with fear. It was then that Scabbers suddenly twisted violently. He spun and, with a speed a sick old rat should never have, bit my finger!
"OW!" I yelled, pulling my hand back.
At the same instant, Scabbers leaped from my hand, his scrawny body shooting towards the crack under the door. He was going to escape!
But he never made it.
A bolt of silvery light, so fast it was just a flash, shot from Professor Umbra's wand. It wasn't a shouted spell, it was a thought turned to action. The light hit Scabbers in mid-air.
And then, the world fell apart.
Where there had been a rat, there was now a man. He appeared in the middle of the room, falling onto the wooden floor with a dull thud. He was a grown man, of short stature, with a somewhat fat and stooped body. His hair was thin and dirty, and his eyes... his eyes were small, dark, and full of an animal panic. He still had rat-like features - a slightly elongated snout, prominent front teeth. He smelled of dirt and fear.
"What... what is that?" I choked out, backing up until I hit the sofa. "Was he a... an Animagus?"
Before anyone could answer, Lily Potter advanced. She didn't walk, she moved like a lioness, her expression one of such pure and absolute fury that I barely recognized her. Her wand was in her hand, pointed at the man on the floor, and it was visibly shaking.
"Peter Pettigrew," she spat the name, and the word sounded like the worst of curses.
The man on the floor - Pettigrew - cowered, whimpering.
My father pulled my arm, putting himself between me and the scene, his own wand now firmly gripped. His face was serious, pale, his eyes fixed on the intruder. I had never seen my father like this. It was the face of a wizard ready for war.
Pettigrew began to cry, high-pitched, disgusting whimpers escaping between his sobs. "I had no choice!" he whined, his voice a squeal. "The Dark Lord... he would have killed me if I hadn't agreed! He forced me!"
"You should have chosen death!" Lily Potter screamed, and her voice echoed in the room, laden with a pain that made my heart ache. "Just as every one of us would have died for you! James died for you! Sirius lost four years for you!"
Professor Umbra moved, placing himself beside Lily. His presence was both calming and terrifying. "Now," he said, his voice low but cutting through Pettigrew's weeping like a blade, "you will pay for your crimes."
I saw Pettigrew's shoulders sink. He seemed defeated, his head low, his body shaking uncontrollably. For a second, I thought he would faint. It was a second too long.
With a movement that was pure animal desperation, his hand disappeared into the folds of his dirty rags and reappeared holding a wand. It was an ugly wand, twisted, looking like it was made of bound bones. He didn't aim, just threw it forward, a guttural scream tearing from his throat.
"AVADA KEDAVRA!"
The jet of green light of death, the spell that could not be blocked, that could not be defended against, exploded towards Professor Umbra. It was so fast, so unexpected, that even my mum, who had just come out of the kitchen, didn't have time to scream.
But Professor Umbra did not move to dodge. He did not raise a shield. He simply... flicked his hand.
It wasn't a wand movement. It was a dismissive gesture, as if swatting away an irritating insect. His left hand, clad in the black glove, moved in an arc, and the deadly green ray... veered off. It ricocheted off his bare hand as if it had hit an invisible shield of steel and shot into the wall on the other side of the room, leaving a black, smouldering mark on the wood.
The shock in the room was palpable. Even Pettigrew stopped crying, his jaw hanging open, staring at the wizard who had done the impossible.
Professor Umbra didn't even seem to have exerted himself. His silver eyes narrowed. "Insolent," he whispered.
He flicked his hand again, a quick motion. This time, a rope of pure shadow shot from his fingers and wrapped around Pettigrew like a serpent. The man barely had time to emit a squeak before his eyes rolled back and he fainted, falling heavily to the floor, motionless.
The room fell silent, only the sound of my mother's ragged breathing and my own heart pounding like a drum.
Professor Umbra turned to one of the men in black. "Two protecting the family, two on the exits. As ordered."
The man inclined his head. "Yes, President Umbra."
"Send a Patronus message to Amelia. Tell her the rat has been caught. And that he attempted the Killing Curse against a Court official. She will know what to do."
"Yes, President." The man gestured, and two of the other agents stepped forward, lifting Pettigrew's inert body with impersonal efficiency. Within seconds, they were out the door, taking the traitor with them.
The rest of the events passed like one of those Muggle films Harry's mum had taken us to see once - all blurry and surreal. The tension in the room didn't vanish, but it changed, became heavy with the weight of what had almost happened.
Professor Umbra then turned to me. I instinctively flinched, but he merely inclined his head.
"Ronald," he said, and his voice lost some of that deadly frost. "Now that you are without a pet, I believe you are owed compensation."
I could only stare at him, still trembling.
"Your things," he continued, his eyes passing over my patched pyjamas. "Are they still second-hand?"
I felt a hot flush on my face and shook my head, embarrassed. "Mostly, yes, sir."
"Then, here is what you will do. Tomorrow, you will go to Diagon Alley and buy everything new. Everything. Books, robes, cauldron, all top quality. And a pet of your choice. Preferably one that is not a fugitive Animagus." He pulled a small leather pouch from within his cloak and handed it to me. It was heavy, full of coins. "On my account."
In an instant, all the fear, the confusion, the trauma of what had happened - it all vanished, replaced by incredible euphoria. Everything new! First-hand! And an animal of my choice!
"Merlin!" I exclaimed, holding the pouch like a treasure. "Thank you! Thank you, Professor!"
A very, very slight smile touched his lips. "Just ensure your studies reflect the value of the investment."
Harry, who was standing beside his mother, looked a bit pale, but he gave me a small smile. We scurried up the stairs to my room, and I couldn't stop talking about what I was going to buy. It was only when I closed the door that the excitement subsided a bit, and the information Harry's mum had whispered to my dad - about betrayal, about the Potters, about Sirius Black - began to fit together in my head. That man... that rat... had lived in my pocket. Had slept in my bed. I felt a shiver run down my spine, followed by a new wave of gratitude for Professor Umbra.
---
POV Filius Umbra (Later, in the living room of The Burrow)
I watch the two boys go upstairs, the noise from Ronald already disappearing behind the bedroom door. The youngest Weasley was resilient, that was certain. The promise of new possessions had, at least temporarily, erased the terror of his experience.
Molly Weasley approaches me, her hands still trembling slightly as she wipes them on her apron. Her eyes are red.
"Filius... President Umbra... thank you," she whispers, her voice choked. "Merlin, thank you. I... I housed him under my roof. I fed that... that monster. He played with my children." She brings a hand to her mouth, stifling a sob. "What could he have done? Ginny... he was in her room! Just one Imperius... one spell... he could have done whatever he wanted!"
I place a hand lightly on her shoulder, a rare gesture from me, but necessary. "Molly, listen to me," I say, my voice firm but not harsh. "He lived with all your children and there is no harm in them. I would have sensed it. He was a rat, in the most literal sense. Far, far too cowardly to risk anything that might draw attention. His hiding place was his absolute priority. Your family is safe."
She looks at me, seeking confirmation in my eyes, and seems to find some peace. She nods, wiping the tears with the back of her hand. "Still... thank you."
"Arthur," I say, turning to the head of the family, who still looks somewhat shaken. "The Court will cover any damage to your property. And the offer for Ronald stands."
He nods, still not able to speak much.
I turn to leave when the door opens again. Sirius Black enters like a hurricane, his face a mask of anxiety and repressed fury.
"Lily! Harry!" he asks, his eyes scanning the room.
"They're safe, Sirius," Lily says, her voice still laden, but more controlled. "Filius... he caught him. Caught the rat."
Sirius's eyes turn to me, wide with a mixture of disbelief and a hope he barely dares feel. "Pettigrew? You... you caught him? For real?"
"Yes," I confirm simply. "He is being taken to the Ministry's maximum-security cells as we speak."
"His fate is Azkaban," Sirius snarls, his fists clenching. "Or better, a dementor's kiss."
I nod my head. Justice, finally, would be served. "Let's go," I say to him and Lily. "Amelia Bones will be waiting for our statements."
Sirius nods his head, a dark gleam of satisfaction in his eyes. We turn and Apparate from the porch, the world compressing around us before we rematerialize in the well-lit atrium of the Ministry of Magic.
As we walk through the marble corridors, my mind wanders, moving away from the present. One problem solved. The traitor captured. Sirius's innocence fully vindicated. This approaching school year, it should, in theory, be quiet. No philosopher's stone to protect, no secret chamber to open, no traitorous animagus hiding in students' pockets.
But a cold knowledge settles in my stomach. A pattern is forming. The danger is escalating each year. And as I watch the quiet determination on Lily's face and the contained fury on Sirius's, I can't help but think of the pale, sibilant-voiced man whose ghost still haunts our world.
I have no doubt that the snake-faced bastard will find a way to return. And when he does, we will be waiting.