Although Snape and the others, through carefully edited newspapers and subtle guidance of public opinion, had successfully made most of the students aboard the Founders' Ark deeply suspicious and distrustful of the Ministry of Magic and the Hogwarts now under Malfoy's control, not everyone could entirely shake off the invisible pressure brought by official propaganda.
Drifting in the skies, though temporarily safe, inevitably bred a lingering sense of uncertainty, an awareness that their security might vanish overnight.
Above their heads stretched the boundless stars; beneath their feet, the endless sea of clouds. The separation from familiar ground amplified the unease in their hearts.
That unease quietly grew in those whose resolve had never been firm to begin with.
And memories, after all, could blur with time.
Even though the teachers and students aboard had personally witnessed Abraxas Malfoy's undisguised contempt toward "Mudbloods" during his classes at Hogwarts, his near-cruel punishments of Muggle-born students for even minor infractions, and his brutal treatment of house-elves, whipping and insulting them as if they were vermin, time itself, together with those carefully retouched photos of his "kindly smiling" face in the papers, and the repeated words like "safety" and "tolerance," seemed to possess a strange power.
That power dulled painful memories and gave rise to faint, dangerous illusions: Maybe going back wouldn't be so bad?
So, even as most aboard gradually transformed their fear into a shared sense of belonging and solidarity, there remained a few whose hearts began to waver.
Among them, the most restless and timid was Peter Pettigrew.
In recent days, Wormtail had seemed especially uneasy.
As though bewitched, he kept rereading a copy of the newspaper, one duplicated with a Copying Charm, his eyes darting repeatedly toward the passages Snape had deliberately left intact, those florid "promises" of "guaranteed safety" and "a warm welcome to those who return."
Those words were like barbed hooks, tugging ceaselessly at his longing for comfort and normalcy.
Fear coiled around his heart like an icy serpent. The Death Eaters' brutal assaults, the blue infernos of "Mr. Grindelwald" that consumed lives without hesitation, and the constant danger that their airborne refuge might one day be discovered, all of it left him sleepless.
One mildly turbulent afternoon, he could bear it no longer.
Pettigrew pulled out the newspaper and approached James, Sirius, and the others, who were lounging by the ship's rail, bored and frustrated, both from the Ark's restrictive rules and their growing sense of confinement.
"Guys," he said, spreading out the paper and pointing to the paragraphs of "promises." "Have you read this? The Ministry... they're saying if we go back, they'll ensure every student's safety, no matter their blood status."
"James, Sirius," Pettigrew said anxiously, "you're pure-bloods, they'd never do anything to you. I kind of want to leave. Come with me, please? I'd feel much safer if you were with me!"
"This place is too dangerous. Who knows when we'll be attacked again?" He lowered his voice, his expression raw with fear. "The paper says what we did was just a 'youthful mistake', they won't punish us for it. Going home safely has to be better than floating up here forever, right? Besides, that Grindelwald fellow, he's terrifying. He doesn't even see human life as life. Staying near him feels more dangerous than anything!"
James and Sirius exchanged a look.
When they first boarded the ship, it had been largely at Professor McGonagall's insistence, she had stressed the seriousness of the situation and the need to protect their weaker friend, Peter.
Now that Wormtail himself was pleading to leave, and the "guarantees" in the papers did sound somewhat plausible, especially for pure-bloods like them, their internal balance began to tip.
"Wormtail's got a point," James said at last, breaking the silence. "We're pure-bloods. At worst, they'll scold us, maybe confine us for a few days, or fine us a bit. That's better than staying trapped on this floating fortress, always waiting for another attack."
Sirius leaned against the rail, the wind whipping his dark hair. Rebellious by nature, he hated rules, and the Ark's restrictions gnawed at him. But he thought a little deeper than James, his brow furrowed.
"Are you sure it's really safe to go back? Who runs the Ministry now? The people behind the Dark Lord aren't exactly merciful."
"Professor McGonagall only meant to take the Muggle-borns aboard in the first place. What does that tell you?" Peter seized the opening, eager to sound persuasive.
"It means she believed pure-bloods and half-bloods were safe enough to stay at Hogwarts. Snape and the others came along only because of... special circumstances. We'd just be going back to our normal lives!"
At that moment, Remus Lupin, who had been quietly reading nearby, lifted his head.
James caught his look and asked immediately, "Remus, you're a half-blood, you'd be safe too. Why not come with us?"
"I'm a werewolf," Lupin said calmly, cutting him off.
Peter blinked, startled, but quickly responded, "That's fine! The Ministry's got registration offices now, right? Once you're registered, they'll leave you alone. They have to follow their own laws, don't they?"
Lupin looked into Peter's naïve, hopeful eyes, then at James and Sirius's faces, full of longing for freedom and home. He slowly shook his head, a heaviness settling over him.
"I don't know, Peter," he said softly. "I don't know what the Ministry's 'laws' mean anymore, to a school-age werewolf. More surveillance? More discrimination? Or worse?" He didn't continue, but the mistrust in his voice was plain.
Aside from Lupin, the other three Marauders stood by the rail, consumed by the same powerful longing, to go back to a "normal" life, to something safe and familiar.
James and Sirius were half-convinced already, perhaps not so much by Peter as by their own restless nostalgia.
Lupin watched them silently. Finally, when the three decided to approach Professor McGonagall to request permission to leave, he closed his book and followed without a word.
...
Professor McGonagall had just stepped out of her Transfiguration classroom, still looking weary from teaching, when she came face to face with the four of them.
Peter's face showed barely contained excitement and tension; James and Sirius carried an almost giddy relief mixed with apprehension; Lupin trailed behind them in silence, his eyes thoughtful and dark.
Seeing them like that, McGonagall immediately guessed what they were about to say. Her expression hardened.
"Mr. Potter, Mr. Black, Mr. Pettigrew, Mr. Lupin," she said, her tone sharp, "what is it you want?"
"Professor," Peter stammered, mustering his courage, "we... we're of age now. We'd like to request permission to leave the Founders' Ark."
"You, especially you, Peter, are sure about this?" McGonagall asked, her voice edged with worry. "It's extremely dangerous out there. The Ministry is forcing every witch and wizard to register their blood status and undergo 'inspection.'"
"Potter and Black might get leniency due to their family names," she said gravely, turning to Peter with open concern. "But you, Mr. Pettigrew, leaving could put you in real danger."
"Professor, we've thought it through!" Peter said quickly, waving the newspaper in his hand. "It says right here, they'll keep us safe! And we... we just want to go home! We miss it!"
"Yes, Professor," James added, nodding firmly. "We can't float up here forever. We'll stay out of trouble if we go back, I swear. Besides, Sirius and I can look after Peter. He's our friend."
McGonagall looked at their young, stubborn faces and felt an ache of helplessness.
She sighed deeply, her gaze shifting past them to Lupin, who had yet to speak.
"Remus," she asked, "your friends are leaving. What about you?"
The hallway went quiet. The other three turned toward him.
Lupin hesitated for a moment.
His eyes passed over Peter's anxious pleading, over James and Sirius's expectant faces. Then he looked out the porthole toward the endless expanse of sky.
He drew a slow breath, as though pressing down every emotion, and said quietly but firmly:
"Professor, I'm staying."
"Remus!" James and Sirius cried out together, shocked.
"Why?" James demanded, hurt. "Come on, come back with us! We're the Marauders, remember? We stick together!"
Lupin gave him a faint, gentle smile.
"No, James. If I went back, I'd only cause you trouble. And besides..." His tone dropped, touched with bitter irony. "I don't think Mr. Malfoy would allow a werewolf to remain at Hogwarts."
"Thank you, truly, but I'm staying here."
James and Sirius opened their mouths to argue, but when they saw the quiet resolve, and the pain, in Lupin's eyes, they knew his mind was made up.
Disappointment and confusion fell over them. James turned away in frustration, while Peter could barely contain his excitement about leaving.
McGonagall watched the scene, emotions warring in her heart.
"Very well," she said at last, heavily. "I'll grant your request. But you must keep the method, time, and place of your departure absolutely secret. Understood?"
Peter nodded eagerly. James and Sirius both murmured their assent.
"Pack only your essentials," she instructed. "Take nothing that could reveal information about the Ark. Tomorrow night, two thirty in the morning, Professor Flitwick or I will escort you off. Remember: absolute secrecy."
Lupin gave them a small, silent nod and turned toward the student quarters.
The others hurried away to pack, their hearts tangled with anticipation and doubt.
Back in the staff office, McGonagall relayed the news to the others.
Snape sat at the table, examining Grindelwald's handwritten notes on alchemical reconstruction of the human body. Hearing the news, he didn't even look up, he just gave a short, derisive snort through his nose.
"Good riddance," he said. "Especially Pettigrew. He's unstable, a liability. If he stays aboard, sooner or later fear or propaganda will break him, and Merlin knows what he might do then."
"Better to let him go, with his pure-blood friends. From now on, bridges burned, paths divided. The cleaner the break, the better."
He set the notes aside and looked up at McGonagall. "For safety's sake, I recommend you personally modify or remove their memories concerning 'Mr. Grindelwald.' If they're interrogated later, it'll prevent leaks."
McGonagall's conscience balked at the thought of a Memory Charm, but she knew Snape's reasoning was sound, and necessary.
"I agree," she said at last, gravely. "I'll handle it myself when I send them off..."
At that moment, the office door burst open.
Emmeline Vance stumbled in, breathless, a broomstick clutched in one hand and a crumpled, freshly purchased issue of the Daily Prophet in the other.
"Professor, everyone, news!" she gasped hoarsely, slamming the paper onto the table and stabbing a finger at a small notice near the bottom. "I found out where Frank and Alice are! Look here!"
"'...The dangerous criminals Frank and Alice Longbottom, accused of participating in the Hogwarts rebellion and assaulting Aurors, were sentenced yesterday after a swift trial. Evidence conclusive. Life imprisonment. Immediate transfer to Azkaban.'"
"Azkaban!" growled Moody, who had been silent in a dark corner.
He rose, leaning on his staff, his remaining natural eye blazing with fury, while the other, a gleaming alchemical glass orb crafted by Grindelwald only days earlier, spun wildly, catching the light in a menacing glare.
Still experimental, it made him look half-machine, half-demon.
"Those bastards!" Moody slammed his staff against the floor with a thunderous crack. "We're going after them!"
"We must," McGonagall agreed, her face grim. "Every day they spend there brings them closer to madness under the Dementors."
The others all nodded fiercely, anger and resolve etched across their faces.
"Rescue is necessary," Snape said quietly, though his brows were furrowed. He remembered the kind, brave Longbottoms and felt a pang of worry. "But we have to be sure this isn't a trap. What if they leaked these news on purpose, to lure us out?"