The moon hung high in the night sky, casting a ghostly glow over the scene outside the Burrow. The night was crisp and clear, but the atmosphere was thick with tension. Three Aurors stood in a shadowy clearing: Rufus Scrimgeour, Alastor Moody, and Kingsley Shacklebolt. Peter Pettigrew, bound tightly with magical restraints, sat on a low wooden crate. His appearance was a stark contrast to the dignity of his past—his once-well-groomed hair was now a tangled mess, his clothes were dirty and ragged, and his round face was pale, with eyes darting nervously, betraying his fear and desperation.
Pettigrew’s voice, quivering with desperation, cut through the night air. “I haven’t done anything wrong! You can’t keep me like this. I demand to be set free!”
Moody, with his grizzled face lined by the scars of countless battles, stepped closer. His magical eye swiveled ceaselessly, scrutinizing Pettigrew with unyielding intensity. “Then why did you flee when we approached? If you were truly innocent, why not confront us directly?”
Pettigrew’s mouth opened and closed as he tried to form a response, but no coherent words emerged. His eyes widened in a mixture of panic and confusion, unable to provide a plausible explanation.
Rufus Scrimgeour, with his tall, imposing frame and stern demeanor, observed the scene with an air of detached authority. His presence commanded attention, and his gaze was unflinching. “You seem like you could use some rest, Peter,” he said, his tone calm but his expression unreadable. He raised his wand and incanted softly, “Somnus.”
Pettigrew’s eyes fluttered closed, and he slumped forward, unconscious. The silence that followed was heavy with unspoken concerns.
Moody scowled at the sight. “He’s obviously hiding something. Why fake his death at the hands of Sirius Black and why go into hiding? I could use some time alone with him. I’ll make sure he spills all of his deepest, darkest secrets.”
Kingsley Shacklebolt, tall and composed with a demeanor of calm professionalism, exchanged a glance with Moody. “Minister, you’re not seriously considering letting Moody interrogate him under duress, are you? That would be highly unethical.”
Rufus met Kingsley’s gaze with a steady, unyielding look. “Of course not. Information gained through duress cannot be used in a trial.”
Moody’s face hardened, his eyes narrowing with frustration. “We have a man who’s supposedly risen from the dead. The world will want to know how he managed it. Pettigrew’s faked death and his continued hiding suggest there’s much more to his story. If you give me some time alone with him, we will be able to extract the information we need.”
Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.
Rufus’s expression remained impassive. “Yes, Pettigrew's return will certainly attract attention. However, we must ensure that everything we do is above board. We need to manage both public perception and legal procedures carefully.”
Kingsley, though still troubled, nodded reluctantly. “I’ll handle the arrangements at the Ministry and make sure the news is managed properly. We need to control the narrative.”
Rufus’s gaze was thoughtful. “Indeed, we need to prepare for the public scrutiny. Pettigrew’s reappearance will be a major story, and we must handle it with precision. We cannot afford any missteps.”
Rufus’s tone was resolute. “We’ll take him to St. Mungo’s, where he’ll be under constant surveillance. The Healers there will ensure he’s in good health, and we’ll keep a close eye on him. He’s our lead to uncovering what exactly happened in Godric’s Hollow all those years ago. We must be thorough in our approach.”
Kingsley let out a sigh, his concern evident. “And the trial? We need to make sure that everything is handled properly, especially if this case is going to be highly publicized.”
Rufus nodded, his gaze unwavering. “We’ll ensure that Pettigrew’s condition is stable and that his rights are observed. As for the trial, it will be a complex matter. We need to prepare for the public reaction and ensure that our evidence is solid. The world will be eager to know how he faked his death and why he’s been hiding. It’s essential that we handle this situation carefully.”
Moody, still visibly agitated, muttered, “Pettigrew’s actions could have far-reaching consequences. If he’s involved in something more sinister, we need to get to the bottom of it before it’s too late.”
Rufus, his eyes sharp with determination, nodded. “Agreed. We need to be prepared for any eventuality. The investigation into Pettigrew’s activities will be crucial, and we must ensure that our approach is both effective and legally sound.”
As they prepared to transport the unconscious Pettigrew to St. Mungo’s, the gravity of the situation settled heavily on them. The night was quiet, but the weight of the coming revelations and their implications was palpable.
Kingsley began making arrangements for their next steps, his expression a mix of worry and resolve. Moody remained close to Pettigrew, his vigilance unyielding. Rufus’s mind was already working on the next steps, aware that the capture of Pettigrew was just the beginning of a complex and potentially explosive investigation.
“Remember,” Rufus said as they moved toward St. Mungo’s, “we need to manage the public's curiosity and ensure that everything is handled with the utmost care.”
As they reached the entrance of St. Mungo’s, the first light of dawn began to appear on the horizon. The road ahead was fraught with uncertainty, but Rufus, Moody, and Kingsley were determined to navigate the challenges that lay ahead with precision and resolve. The true nature of Pettigrew’s secrets, and the impact they would have on the wizarding world, remained to be seen.