True Colors
Epilogue
By Anne B. Walsh
He couldn’t decide if he hated waking or sleeping more.
Waking, he had to face reality—four stone walls, two meager meals a day, the constant chill striking into his bones, the screaming and sobbing all around, and the knowledge worse than any of it, that he deserved all this and more.
In his sleep, though, he had to face those he had wronged.
He’d admitted to them over and over what he had done, begged them to forgive him, but the familiar faces remained fixed in sneering distaste, as though he were too pitiful even to hate, and the once welcome voices gave answers sarcastic or serious that came to the same thing: none of his words would ever make a difference, for his actions had spoken too loudly. His life was over, his story already written, and its title was ‘traitor.’ That was the word by which he would be remembered.
If he were remembered at all.
A new voice rose above the chorus, howling names he knew, calling down curses on their owners. He listened, huddled in a corner, and found to his astonishment a kernel of hope in the disjointed words, and in the identity of their speaker. Could it be—was it possible—
Wondering, he slipped into sleep, and fell into a dreamworld of endless foggy plains, grey nothing as far as the eye could see.
But even nothing is better than Azkaban...
"Hello, Peter," said a woman’s voice from behind him.
Peter Pettigrew jumped and spun in the same movement. Danger Lupin stood a few feet from him, dressed in Muggle casual, one hand resting on an outthrust hip. The expression on her face might not quite be a smile, but it was still the friendliest thing he’d seen in months. "Danger," he acknowledged her. "I—I thought I’d heard—you and Remus—"
"That’s right, you’d have been blessed with Lucius’ ramblings by now." Danger chuckled. "Yes, we’ve finally won free. Just like Sirius."
Peter winced away. "I never wanted him to get hurt," he said quietly. "I never wanted anyone to get hurt."
"So you say." Danger’s tone was beginning to take on shades of her nickname. "I want the truth, Peter. Did you tell Voldemort about Remus? Are you how he knew?"
"No!" Startled, Peter looked up. Danger was two paces closer, her eyes fixed on him, oddly swirled with her own brown and a blue he’d seen before—
Moony. He’s here—with her—
"No," he repeated, standing his ground though his every instinct shrieked to back up or, better still, run away from the predator stalking closer every second. "No, that wasn’t me. He knew before I ever said a word. All he wanted from me was the name of—" He broke off, shaking, but it was already too late.
"The name of the restaurant where we were having dinner," Danger finished for him, very softly. "And then he summoned you to watch what he did to us, and Marked you in front of us."
Peter dropped to one knee, clutching his head in his hands, overcome by the memory of the night he’d realized there could be no turning back. He heard again the sentences pronounced on his friends—agonizing death for one, a life of torture for the other—and stood silent, unable to move, as the Death Eaters howled and jeered at the two people in the silver-barred cage, who held their heads high and glared defiance at the snakelike figure carefully aiming his wand at one of them...
"We recognized you, you know," Danger went on, her voice quiet but inescapable as she paced around him. "After the spell took effect. Once we had our wolves’ noses to help us. We caught your scent on the air, and we thought you might have come to help us." She looked down at him, eyes blazing blue fire. "How very wrong we were."
"Stop," Peter whimpered, leaning away from her. "Please, please stop, I hear it all day long, you howling and Remus screaming and him laughing, he loves how much the spell is hurting you, it’s one of the worst I have, please don’t make me hear it again..."
"All right."
Peter blinked. Acquiescence was not the usual response of his dream tormentors. "All right?" he repeated, looking for the catch.
"All right." Danger stepped into his field of view again. "In fact, I owe you an apology. Not much of one, but I do. Bringing up old grudges isn’t why I came here tonight."
"It’s—it’s not?"
"No." Danger seated herself cross-legged on the ground. "I came to... well, first to tease you a little. Because really, it’s your own fault that you were caught the way you were."
Peter tried to trace this line of thought and drew a blank. "How?"
"You were in and out of Malfoy Manor during the last year of the war," Danger said. "You saw us sometimes, Remus and me." Her smile turned sour. "You had the decency to hurry past most of the time, and never look us in the eye. But there was someone else you’d seek out, though never when you were human. No, you’d change into Wormtail’s form and go to look for this person. And in those last few months, these people. Do you remember?"
Almost against his will, Peter nodded.
"You played with Ray, Peter. With Ray, and with Hermione—you knew who she was, even though Lucius had called her Griselda and locked her into wolf form. And you knew who Ray was." Danger’s eyes caught Peter’s and held them. "Who Ray really was. Rat noses are perfectly good. You’d have been able to tell that Ray’s scent matched mine and Remus’ far better than it ever could Lucius’ or Narcissa’s. And you sneaked in at night once or twice. You saw him transformed, saw a wolf cub sleeping in Draco Malfoy’s cot. You knew whose child he truly was." Her eyes, with their swirls of brown and blue, seemed to pull him in, laying a spell on him to speak only the truth. "Why did you never tell?"
"Because..." Peter struggled to get enough air to say the words. "Because... it was..." His throat seemed impossibly tight, his eyes burned with tears he dared not shed. "The only thing..." He pressed his fingers against the bridge of his nose, shuddering. I can’t say it, I can’t, I don’t deserve to...
But Danger was waiting, and her expression seemed almost to be softening as she listened.
"It was the only thing I could do for you," he finished, staring at the floor in front of him. "For any of you. Every time I came to that house was another betrayal, another step the wrong way, but I didn’t know how to turn around and go back the way I’d come, or even if I could. Ray was... as long as he was there, as long as he was safe and happy, I hadn’t only done bad things." He laughed a little, weakly. "I suppose that’s typical of me, that the one person I could help is the one who wasn’t supposed to exist."
"But he did exist, and he went on existing." Danger leaned back on her hands. "As did Hermione. And, despite a certain Dark wizard’s best efforts, Harry and Neville. And, elsewhere in the country, Ronald Weasley. And then they all met up on the Hogwarts Express as first years—and lo and behold, a certain young lady in the shape of a wolf sees, sleeping on the knee of a red-haired young man, a most familiar-looking and peculiarly aura-surrounded rat..."
Peter gaped at her. I never knew how I was caught—I went to sleep under Ron’s bed, and woke up with Aurors staring down at me—but that would make sense, Hermione in her wolf shape would be able to see I wasn’t just a rat—but she’d never have been on the train at all if it weren’t for—
"That’s right," Danger said, her impish smile beginning to appear. "You dug your own grave on this one, Peter. If you’d exposed Ray as a fake way back when, you’d probably never have been caught. Not until Harry tried Animagus, at any rate... but I digress. The point is, you didn’t, and now you’re reaping the consequences."
Peter laughed once, bitterly. "So the one good thing I’ve done is the one that means I go to Azkaban?"
"No, you’re in Azkaban for all the bad things you did. The good thing just happens to be the one that got you caught. And you’re right, that isn’t fair. Which is why I’m here." Danger leaned forward. "You protected my son once, Peter. I’m here to offer you as much of a reward as I think you deserve for that. Hear me out, then make a decision..."
The day after exams were over, Ron Weasley received an unexpected package at breakfast.
"What is it?" asked Harry, peering across the table at the breadbox-sized parcel which two owls had dropped on top of his friend’s sausages.
"Dunno. I wasn’t expecting anything..." Ron started untying the knots on the string holding the brown paper wrappings on the parcel.
"Want a hand?" Ray asked from one place down.
"Sure."
Ray wiggled a finger at the package. The strings flared up and were gone.
"I never get tired of watching you do that," said Neville as Ron ripped the paper away.
"You will," said Hermione in a tone of experience, but her words were drowned out as Ron gasped in delight.
"I don’t believe it!"
"What don’t you believe?" Harry pushed his glasses up his nose to get a better look at what appeared to be a lump of gray fur, slumped on the floor of a glass cage with one corner frosted for privacy, a food dish and water bottle mounted in the opposite wall, and a running wheel in its center. "That someone sent you a mouse through the mail?"
"That’s no mouse! It’s Scabbers!"
"Scabbers?" Neville repeated, standing up to see. "Your rat? The one you lost our first day here?"
"Yeah!" Ron tapped a finger on the glass, and sure enough, a ratty head lifted from the pile of fur and fixed beady blue eyes on him. "Scabbers, where’ve you been? I was worried sick!"
"There’s a note," said Hermione, examining the discarded paper. "Should I read it?"
"Please." Ron sat back on the bench, holding the cage in his lap. "I don’t see a door anywhere..."
"‘Dear Ron,’" Hermione read aloud. "‘I found the enclosure in my spare water jug a few days ago and took the liberty of running some tests on him to determine if he were in fact your missing rat. As I’m sure you’ve noticed, he is, but he seems to have fallen into bad company in his year away. He’s become a carrier for the Albanian rat flu, which is quite nasty and in many cases fatal. Fortunately, the flu is transferred only by touch, so I’ve sealed this cage shut to be sure no one contracts it by accident.’"
"Aww, poor Scabbers," Ron cooed to the rat. "No more sleeping on my pillow, no more chocolate after dark—wait, if the cage is sealed, how am I supposed to feed him?"
"Maybe it says." Hermione went back to the note. "Yes, here it is. ‘As long as he stays in good physical condition, he won’t contract the flu himself, so I’ve set up the cage to monitor his level of activity. When he runs on the wheel or jumps and plays in his free space, he earns rewards of food from the hopper on the end of the cage, which you can fill by hand. Your parents or brothers should be able to refill the water bottle for you until you learn the spell yourself.’"
"That’s some pretty advanced magic," said Neville. "Who did all this?"
"‘With best wishes for many happy years to come with your pet,’" Hermione read rapidly, "‘Professor R.J. Lupin.’"
Ray laughed. "That’s Dad all over," he said. "He could have brought Scabbers up to the dorm, or even just handed him over in the hall, but no, he has to have the owls bring him in like some great big surprise..."
"Hang on, there’s a P.S.," said Hermione, squinting at the paper. "‘I don’t know if you or Percy ever noticed, but Scabbers is fond of music. Play some around him and see what happens.’"
"Didn’t I see Dean headed out to the courtyard with his portable wireless?" Harry asked, standing up.
In the general ruckus of getting up to go outside, Ray and Hermione found a moment to grin at each other.
I think this is more fitting than Azkaban, Ray said. He’s still stuck in a little box forever and ever, and now he has to work to get his meals.
And if what Mum was saying is right, he thinks over his worst memories plenty without the dementors to help. Hermione shivered a little. Nobody really deserves what those things do, Ray. Nobody.
Not at all? Ray shot her two images, one of a man standing by himself, the other of a family of three. Not even for a little while?
Well, for a little while, maybe, but not for months and years and decades, not the way he’s going to have them...
They bickered their way contentedly out into the courtyard, where Dean was readily persuaded to tune the wireless to one of the local Muggle stations, one that boasted in its adverts that it played absolutely everything, no matter how strange, how foreign, or how old. Shortly thereafter, bickering vanished under laughter, as Scabbers shimmied, shivered, and shook his tail to the beat of "Man! I Feel Like a Woman."
So I suppose it’s all down to what you prefer, said Ray, applauding at the end of the song. Misery in solitude, where no one can see you and laugh at you, or this. A nod towards the cage, where Scabbers was sucking avidly at his water bottle. Myself, I think I’d probably take this.
Speaking from experience, it’s not so bad. Hermione sidled over to her brother, and he put his arm around her shoulders. But it’s not so good either. I much prefer being free.
Well, don’t betray your friends and randomly murder twelve people to cover your tracks, and you can probably keep it that way.
Thank you ever so.
A new song came on.
Severus was just crossing the courtyard when he saw the knot of laughing children. The song blaring forth from the wireless perched on the low wall, though mildly amusing, would not account for the level of merriment. Clearly there was more going on.
Do I truly want to know? They are no longer my concern; a week from now I need never see any of them again. Instead I shall enjoy the society of adults, and intelligent adults at that. He allowed himself a small smile, since no one was looking at him. One in particular.
But that was still a week away, and mysteries had always intrigued him.
He strode towards the children as the song, a piece of Muggle fluff he recalled dimly from his youth, rolled into its chorus.
It’s fun to stay at the...
The rat he could now see within the glass cage sitting beside the wireless threw its front paws above its head, spreading them wide. A moment later, it brought them in to touch the top of its head, bending its furred elbows upwards. Curving to one side, it lowered its face towards its tail, then lifted its paws again, bringing them together in a peak above its pointed nose.
In perfect time with the music, of course.
The small smirks on the faces of Lupin, Granger, and Potter, and a piece of idle gossip he’d heard at the Ministry about an unexpected death in Azkaban, told Severus all he needed to know.
He turned and made his way inside.
It is, in the final analysis, none of my business.
And it is also quite amusing to watch.
He catalogued the story to tell his traveling companion when they met in London in a week’s time as they had planned.
I do not doubt she will enjoy hearing news of her erstwhile son.
Padfoot the enormous black dog sprawled on the front steps of his house, panting to cool himself down in the warm summer night. Life was good. He had his wife and his daughter and godson, he had his freedom, he had his work—
And now I have the people without whom I wouldn’t have had any of that. He shivered, thinking what a narrow escape he’d had. If Danger hadn’t been willing to risk both their lives on the chance that their collars wouldn’t consider their dream with us harmful to Lucius—if Moony hadn’t been willing to be ill for a couple weeks with the poisoning he got from Danger’s using so much magic—
He hadn’t been back at the Auror Office long enough to pull duty out at Azkaban, but he was not looking forward to it. Even fortified by chocolate and the sure knowledge that he’d be leaving at the end of his shift, he didn’t want to be around dementors.
Not many people do. And the ones who would... He shook his head until his ears flapped. They’re already mad, so the dementors can’t hurt them much. Like Lucius. Hope he’s having a fine old time.
As for Wormtail...
Somewhere in Sirius’ heart, there was still a corner reserved for the painfully eager boy named Peter he’d met on the Hogwarts Express his first year. For all Wormtail’s crimes since then, Sirius wasn’t sure if he could honestly have looked at the face of the man he’d once called his friend and said that he wanted this person to spend the rest of his life trapped in his worst memories. Locked up, yes, but on the whole he much preferred the solution Danger had devised.
I might feel differently if I’d spent more than a day in Azkaban myself, but I didn’t. And that’s because of Moony and Danger too. They really were like our good angels, weren’t they?
And now we’re going back to Hogwarts together, quite possibly for good. The jinx on the DADA position died with Voldemort, and it’ll suit Moony perfectly. He loves kids, loves learning, loves to show people things. Danger won’t have much trouble staying busy either, not if the way she was chattering with Charity Burbage down in Muggle Studies means anything. As for us, there’s nothing wrong with the Potions slot, so Letha’s fixed as long as she wants to stay, and me...
He snorted. Let’s see. Will I object to moving into a comfortable suite in a beautiful castle with meal service, housekeeping, and laundry all provided? Not to mention, being able to work with the older kids on practical Defense skills in my spare time, get a feel for possible incoming apprentices? See Moony and Danger every day, never see Snape at all, and the only drawback is I can’t Apparate around the place?
Down the street, as though thinking of Apparating had caused it to happen, two wolves appeared out of thin air, chasing their tails.
Somehow I don’t think I’ll mind it too much. And that’s enough of that. Time for pranks.
Padfoot loped down the street to meet his friends. It was time to pay off the last debt remaining before they moved into their new lives.
Time to let Harry’s relatives know just what we think of them.
Vernon Dursley awoke the next morning to discover all his ties in a pile on the floor of his closet, soaked with a malodorous fluid (Padfoot and Moony had taken turns, Danger choosing instead to tuck a dead mouse lovingly into one shoe out of every pair Vernon owned).
Petunia shrieked when she found the teethmarks on the corners of her cherished bedroom set, and again when she sank down onto the chair at her vanity and it collapsed beneath her (she later discovered that the pegs holding it together, along with those in every other chair in the house, had been burnt nearly all the way through).
Dudley was able to get out of the cupboard beneath the stairs (which Sirius had thoughtfully returned to its original dimensions after retrieving those of Harry’s belongings he was likely to want again) without doing too much damage to the house, but the bright red face and sparkling gold hair with which he emerged persisted all day, as did his unsettling habit of roaring like a lion every time he tried to speak.
The Dursleys’ only consolation was that this was the last time they’d ever have to deal with those freaks and their unnatural ways, as number seventeen’s "For Sale" sign had been up since March and down for at least two weeks. Petunia had known vaguely that the milkman on their route was getting rather old, and it would be nice to have the new one so nearby, in case she had a complaint or needed to change her order in a hurry. And the couple had two sons, one a year younger than her Duddykins and one a year or two younger than that... rather excitable, they’d seemed when she’d met them, but nice boys for all of that... the mother had mentioned boarding school for the older one, perhaps she’d meant Smeltings...
Ray stared at the small, blonde figure walking unhurriedly towards him from the direction of the three-legged stool and the Sorting Hat. "But—but—"
"Would you rather she be somewhere else?" Harry asked.
"No, it’s just—"
"Here I am," said Luna, sliding onto the bench beside Ray and smiling at her new Housemates. "Ginny should be along presently, and then we’ll all be here. Except Meghan, but that’s just because she’s in the kitchens with the house-elves until the Sorting is over so she doesn’t learn how it’s done before it’s her turn next year."
"But I thought you said Lovegoods were always Ravenclaws," Ray said. "I mean, not that I object, but—"
Luna turned the full force of her smile on him. "The Hat said it would be good for you to have me nearby," she said. "Or maybe the other way around. I can’t recall."
"Don’t think it matters," said Ron. "We’re all together, that’s what counts."
"Hear, hear," said Hermione.
"No, hear there," said Neville, nodding towards the Sorting. "Let’s watch."
Luna leaned back against Ray, one hand absently stroking her Gryffindor crest. "Malfoy really should have known better than to try to keep your dad around," she murmured. "After all, it’s not like he’s a tame lion."
Ray felt his cheeks flush red.
That’s my boy, Dad said approvingly in his mind. Wear your true colors proudly.
Oh, I do. Ray let his mental image of Draco Malfoy slowly blur into that of Reynard Lupin, replacing washed-out blond and grey with vibrant brown and blue. I always do.
And he always would.
The End
Author Notes:
For anyone who doesn't know, the Dursleys' new neighbors are the Creeveys. And thus ends a rewritten AU nearly two years in the making. Hope you've enjoyed. More Be Careful soon to come.