"Enough."
Realizing he couldn't break free and that only Rowan Mercer had chased him down, Pettigrew's panic curdled into desperation. He dropped his Animagus form and reverted to a short, trembling man.
If he could kill Rowan before Dumbledore arrived, he might still escape.
"Avada Kedavra!"
Green light tore upward toward Rowan's jaw at point-blank range. Pettigrew was certain no one alive could dodge a Killing Curse fired this close. Not even Dumbledore.
Rowan tilted his head.
The spell missed.
In the same motion, Rowan swung Pettigrew by the leg and slammed him into the ground. The impact knocked the air from Pettigrew's lungs and sent stars exploding behind his eyes.
"You try that on me?" Rowan said coldly. "You've got a death wish."
He crushed Pettigrew's wand under his heel, then kicked him hard enough to send him skidding across the grass. Bones cracked. Pettigrew screamed.
Rowan didn't stop until Pettigrew collapsed to his knees, shaking, sobbing, and begging incoherently.
"Behave," Rowan said quietly. "Or I won't promise you arrive in Azkaban alive."
"I'll behave. I swear. I swear!" Pettigrew whimpered.
Rowan grabbed him, spread his wings, and lifted off toward the castle.
They landed near the Whomping Willow.
The clearing was crowded now. Dumbledore and the professors stood alongside a full Ministry delegation. Cornelius Fudge was there, flanked by Aurors. Among them, Rowan spotted Tonks.
"It really is Peter Pettigrew."
Recognition rippled through the group. The wizard dangling from Rowan's grip matched the man in the photographs. The so-called hero. The Order member awarded the First Class Order of Merlin.
Which meant Sirius Black's story might actually be true.
Then someone frowned. "Why does he look like that?"
Pettigrew's face was swollen and misshapen, not with age but with fresh bruises. He staggered when set down, clutching his ribs. The moment he opened his mouth, blood spilled out.
"He attacked me with a Killing Curse," Rowan said evenly. "I responded."
He waved a hand and sealed the worst of Pettigrew's external injuries, just enough to keep him conscious.
Sirius, bound but awake, saw Pettigrew and exploded with fury. "You traitor! I'll kill you!"
Aurors restrained him instantly. Pettigrew collapsed backward in terror.
Fudge stepped forward, his face tight. "Peter Pettigrew. Sirius Black claims you betrayed the Potters, framed him, and served You-Know-Who. Is this true?"
The Minister needed it to be false. If it wasn't, the Ministry had imprisoned the wrong man for twelve years and praised the real traitor as a hero.
Pettigrew seized the opening. "He's lying! He's the traitor! You-Know-Who must have taught him something before he vanished. I'm innocent!"
Sirius snarled. "You dare say that? I never grovelled to anyone stronger than me. That was always you. You hid behind James. Behind Remus. Behind me."
"I'm not the traitor! You are!" Pettigrew shrieked, edging closer to Fudge, desperate for protection.
Rowan cut in. "Then answer one thing. If you were innocent, why spend twelve years hiding as a rat instead of living openly as a hero?"
Pettigrew's eyes darted. "I was afraid. Afraid his followers would hunt me down. I sent their strongest man to Azkaban."
Rowan laughed softly. "A wizard brave enough to fight Voldemort, brave enough to earn the Order of Merlin, hides for twelve years after Voldemort falls?"
Silence pressed in.
Rowan continued, "Then why run tonight? Why try to kill me when I caught you?"
"I—I panicked. I thought you were working with Sirius," Pettigrew stammered, his words tangling.
No one looked convinced.
Dumbledore turned to Snape. "Severus. Do you still have Veritaserum?"
Snape nodded once. "Enough for two doses. One for each of them. The truth will speak for itself."
Pettigrew's pupils shrank.
"Animagus!"
He transformed mid-word, trying to flee.
Rowan was already moving. He stepped forward and pinned the rat to the ground with his boot.
"That settles it," Rowan said calmly. "Sirius and Professor Lupin were telling the truth."
Fudge closed his eyes and nodded. The evidence was overwhelming. There was nothing left to deny.