firecracker ???

3-22

Peter sobbed.

"You were the Secret Keeper," Sirius said. "Not me. You."

Peter looked to Remus now, desperate. "Moony—Remus—please—tell them—I didn't know—it wasn't supposed to go like this—"

But Lupin's eyes were colder than ice. "Don't call me that."

Peter turned to Harry again, crawling forward a few inches on his knees. "Harry—your father—he would've done the same for me—he would've understood—"

"You killed them," Harry said, flat.

Peter's mouth opened to plead Regulus this time. "Regulus, help me. We were on the same side, he wouldn't let me die. You wouldn't let me die here."

Regulus didn't even look in his direction.

"I should kill him now," Sirius growled, his voice thick with rage. "I should kill him here."

Regulus's voice was cold. "You don't have a wand."

Sirius turned to him. "Lend me yours."

"No," Regulus said, simple and final. Peter had an expression on his face that reflected confusion and mild delight. 

Sirius's jaw clenched. "Why not?"

"Because that's not the plan."

Sirius took a step toward Peter. Fury radiated from him like heat.

"No!" Hermione stepped between them, arms outstretched. "We have to take him to Dumbledore!"

"He won't stay long enough," Sirius spat. "He never does."

"Don't worry," Regulus said quietly.

He raised his wand.

The spell was fast. Precise. Silvery-green ribbons of magic wove through the air, spiraling until they hardened into a transparent prison—like enchanted glass.

Peter flinched. "What is it?"

Regulus's voice was calm. "Something you won't escape from."

The magical cage shimmered, casting reflections across the wooden floor. Pettigrew pressed himself into the back of it, testing the bars with a shaking hand—but he recoiled immediately, yelping as the enchantments pulsed bright red.

Sirius raised his eyebrows. "A bespoke, unregistered, transfiguration-reversal ward reinforced with anti-Animagus layering? That's disgustingly Slytherin of you."

Regulus didn't smile. "Effective."

Ron gaped at the cage, then at Pettigrew. "That's really... that's really Scabbers?"

"His name is Peter," Sirius said darkly.

Regulus walked to the window and cast his wand once more.

A glowing silver ocelot leapt from the tip—sleek, elegant, and brilliant—vanishing into the trees.

"To Dumbledore," he said. "He'll come get the rat."

They left the cage inside the Shrieking Shack.

Peter Pettigrew did not say another word.

—

They stepped into the night. Cold wind kissed their cheeks. The trees rustled softly overhead.

Ron groaned with every step, but Sirius conjured a floating stretcher and eased him down gently.

"Don't make that face," Sirius said to him. "I didn't break your leg."

"You dragged me through a tree!"