The Silver Hand's Fury

"And you had no choice last year, bringing Voldemort back to life?" Harry asked. "Every death that has happened or will happen because of Voldemort is your responsibility and that doesn't even include Cedric Diggory, the young man who came to the cemetery last year that you killed. You are a traitor, traitor to your friends and a traitor to every good witch and wizard who now has to live in fear."

Peter became agitated and began to struggle against the bindings.

"You can struggle all you want, but you will not get free. Now Peter, maybe you can tell me why you're in my castle?" Dumbledore asked. His voice was soft but his blue eyes were hard and focused.

Peter stopped struggling and looked at the floor. No words came from his tightly sealed lips as he shook his head.

"Peter, you will talk eventually," Dumbledore said. "I will be handing you over to the Ministry shortly and they will interrogate you with Veritaserum."

"If you don't start talking," Harry added. "I will personally make sure that your soul finds its way into a Dementor. The Minister is especially willing to listen to me right now."

"I read the Prophet Harry," Pettigrew scoffed as a bit of defiance rose in him. "I know the Minister doesn't like you, either of you," He nodded toward Dumbledore as well.

"Headmaster, do you have the paper from this afternoon?" Hermione asked.

Dumbledore looked at the muggleborn witch and nodded. He reached over to his desk and picked up the paper and handed it to her. She quickly turned to a picture of the Minister shaking Harry's hand.

"The Minister is indebted to Harry right now," She said as she showed Pettigrew the picture. She then turned to the front page. "And if you don't know, your master lost to Harry this morning," She turned to the front page that showed the two battling in the Ministry. "All but one of the Death Eaters he sent to the Ministry died or was captured."

Pettigrew looked at the picture of Harry dueling Voldemort and he recognized the same golden cage that had happened last year in the graveyard. A sense of hopelessness passed through him. He looked up at Harry and then at Dumbledore. "I…I was sent to get something for my master," He said as the memories Hermione had placed in him took over.

"What did he need from Hogwarts?"

"He...he said I was to find a special room on the seventh floor and…" his voice trailed off as he looked down at his arm in horror. The silver hand was struggling to raise his arm toward his neck but the magical bindings were keeping the arm from moving. A 'crack' was heard as Pettigrew's wrist snapped. The rat faced man cried out in pain as the silver hand continued to try to fight its way loose.

Harry had thought that the bindings that held the arm in place would prevent the hand from exacting penance from Wormtail this time, but Voldemort's magic had other plans. He and Hermione now watched in horror as the silver hand was literally ripping itself off of Pettigrew's arm to accomplish its task.

"HELP ME!" Wormtail screamed in horror and pain as he watched his wrist separate. The magical silver hand started climbing his arm dragging blood, bone and muscles with it while blood continued to spurt from his open arm. His screams grew louder and louder until suddenly the hand went flying across the room.

Harry looked from Wormtail to the Headmaster and saw him standing there with the Elder wand in his hand. He watched Dumbledore send another hex toward the hand but missed as it had recovered and was scurrying like some grotesque bloody insect back toward Pettigrew. Harry and Hermione pulled out their wands and sent bludgeoning hexes at it as well. Harry hit it with a well-aimed hex that threw it back against a wall and Dumbledore followed up with some kind of yellow spell that caused the hand to melt into a silver puddle.

Dumbledore moved quickly to Pettigrew and started examining the bloody wrist which was bleeding profusely. He turned to the teens. "Get Madam Pomfrey in the floo and tell her we have an emergency," As Harry and Hermione raced to do as instructed, Dumbledore turned back to Pettigrew. He sent a shrinking spell at the cuff of Pettigrew's shirt. As he continued to shrink it, the cuff began to serve as a tourniquet until the blood ceased to flow.

It was another twenty minutes before Pomfrey left the Headmaster's office. Pettigrew's stump was sealed and bandaged; he'd been given Blood Replenishing and pain relief potions. She'd even healed the pot induced welts on the rat's forehead. The blood had been vanished from the floor and the adrenaline had settled down.

"Well Peter, that's the gratitude from your master for your sacrifice and dedication," Dumbledore said as he nodded toward silver puddle on the floor.

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