The Shrieking Shack Confrontation

Ezekiel, Harry, and Hermione rushed through the underground tunnel beneath the Whomping Willow. The damp, narrow passageway was filled with roots, dirt, and the occasional scurrying rat. The flickering light from their wands barely cut through the darkness, but they didn't stop.

"Ron better still be in one piece," Ezekiel muttered, moving ahead with practiced ease.

Harry, beside him, gripped his wand tightly. His breath was uneven, but his eyes were set with a burning determination. Hermione followed close behind, looking nervous but resolute.

At last, they reached the trapdoor leading into the Shrieking Shack.

Ezekiel pushed it open, and the three of them emerged into the dust-covered, creaking house.

The moment they stepped inside, a voice hissed from the shadows.

"You shouldn't have come here."

---

Sirius Black stood at the far end of the room, his ragged form half-shadowed by the dim moonlight coming through the cracked windows. His gaunt face was lined with exhaustion, and his once-handsome features were now sharp and weathered, but his dark eyes burned with intensity.

Ron was sprawled on the floor, groaning, his leg twisted at an awkward angle.

"Let him go, Black!" Harry shouted, raising his wand.

Sirius didn't react the way they expected. Instead of looking triumphant or vengeful, his lips curled into a twisted smile—not one of malice, but of something between regret and anticipation.

"Not yet," he said. "Not until you know the truth."

Ezekiel stepped forward, scanning the room for threats. Something was off. If Black truly wanted to kill Harry, he wouldn't have hesitated.

"What truth?" Ezekiel demanded.

Sirius's grip on his wand tightened, and his gaze flicked toward Ron.

"Not him," Sirius muttered. "The rat."

---

Ron groaned, clutching Scabbers, who was frantically trying to escape his grasp.

"Scabbers?" Hermione asked, confused.

"He's not a rat," Sirius growled, stepping forward.

Ezekiel's mind raced. A rat? Not a rat?

Then, it clicked.

"You're saying he's an Animagus," Ezekiel said, narrowing his eyes.

Sirius nodded sharply. "Peter Pettigrew."

Harry froze in place, his breath catching in his throat.

"That's impossible!" Ron shouted. "Pettigrew is dead! He was—"

"Framed," Sirius interrupted. "By him." He pointed a trembling hand at the struggling rat.

Ezekiel had heard the name before—Peter Pettigrew, one of James Potter's friends. The one who was supposedly killed by Black.

But if Black was telling the truth, then that meant—

"You're saying he was the traitor?" Ezekiel asked, his voice dangerously calm.

Sirius nodded. "He sold James and Lily to Voldemort. And he's been hiding as a rat ever since."

A heavy silence filled the room.

Harry's hands shook as he turned to Ron. "Give me Scabbers."

"No! He's my pet!" Ron protested.

Ezekiel had enough. With a flick of his wand, Scabbers was yanked from Ron's grasp and pinned mid-air, squirming wildly.

"Let's find out if Black is telling the truth."

Sirius raised his wand, and so did Ezekiel.

Together, they cast the transformation spell.

In a burst of blue light, the rat contorted, growing limbs, a body, and a face full of fear.

Peter Pettigrew collapsed onto the wooden floor, trembling violently. His beady eyes darted around, looking for an escape.

"No…" Ron whispered, his face turning pale.

Harry's entire world seemed to shatter.

"It was you," Harry whispered, his voice cold with fury.

Peter scrambled backward, his round face slick with sweat. "P-Potter, y-you don't understand! H-he forced me—"

"Lies!" Sirius snapped, his wand pointed directly at Pettigrew's head. "You betrayed James and Lily! You faked your death, let me take the fall, and you lived as a bloody rat for twelve years!"

Pettigrew fell to his knees, weeping pitifully. "Please! I had no choice! The Dark Lord—he would have killed me!"

Ezekiel's eyes darkened.

"And so you let him kill your friends instead?"

Pettigrew whimpered but said nothing.

Harry trembled with rage. "You killed my parents."

He raised his wand, his magic crackling with uncontrolled fury.

Ezekiel could see where this was going—and while he wasn't against Pettigrew getting what he deserved, he knew murder would stain Harry forever.

"Enough, Potter," Ezekiel said firmly, stepping in front of him. "We're not killers."

Harry gritted his teeth but didn't lower his wand.

Sirius, however, still looked ready to end Pettigrew on the spot.

"He deserves to die," Sirius spat.

"Maybe," Ezekiel admitted. "But he's more valuable alive. We take him to Dumbledore. Let the world see the truth."

Sirius hesitated. His years in Azkaban had filled him with hatred, but the logic in Ezekiel's words was undeniable.

Finally, with a deep breath, he lowered his wand.

"Fine."

Peter let out a relieved sob—

Ezekiel's foot slammed into his gut, sending him sprawling back onto the floor.

"But if you try to run," Ezekiel said, his voice icy, "I'll kill you myself."

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