A certain broken Hogwarts

Chapter 153 A Comeback

The evening sunlight shone with a warm orange hue, casting deep shadows on the grounds from the towering Hogwarts Castle.

After painstakingly dealing with the unruly mandrakes in the third greenhouse, the young wizards, exhausted and covered in mud, practically fled their herbalism class. Everyone was eager to get back, change their clothes, and then enjoy a delicious dinner.

On their way back to the castle, Owen and his group ran into Hagrid. Hagrid looked somewhat haggard, and was carrying several large, crowing roosters in his two big hands.

"Don't go into the Forbidden Forest during this time, understand?" Hagrid bent down, bringing his disheveled face close to theirs, his black beetle-like eyes fixed on Owen's cheek, emphasizing, "Especially you, Owen."

"What happened, Hagrid?" Owen asked gently.

"Don't even mention it. Lately, many animals have disappeared, especially the giant eight-eyed spider. Poor Aragog told me, crying, that almost half of his offspring have vanished." Hagrid shook his arm, somewhat agitated and indignant, as the rooster in his hand crowed loudly.

"I think it might be that thing in the secret chamber that did it. Anyway, the Forbidden Forest is dangerous now," he said very seriously. "I don't want to be searching for your remains all over the woods... You know what I mean?"

"I understand." Owen's expression also turned serious. If a large portion of the giant spider had disappeared, then it wasn't his doing; he hadn't hunted many spiders for Tom.

"Looks like it's Voldemort in the crown." He gazed intently at the lush green Forbidden Forest, his dark eyes unfathomable. "So, he's finally stopped fixated on absorbing only wizards' life force?"

Although he was prepared for this guy to keep causing trouble, he was still somewhat surprised that he could jump out and continue to stir up trouble so quickly; only four days had passed.

"The Basilisk?" Harry looked at Hagrid, hesitated, and after a long while said with a worried expression, "Hagrid, you'd better be careful, and remember to wear your glasses all the time."

After Neville regained his senses from the Crown's control, Harry had hoped the matter of the heir would be settled, but now it seemed his hopes were dashed. He would have to continue his investigation.

"Ah, I know. The basilisk..." Hagrid muttered something under his breath, but his voice was so low it was almost inaudible. He then chuckled quickly. "Don't worry about me, Harry. See? I'm going to release a few hundred roosters into the Forbidden Forest. They'll scare that serpent away!"

He raised his right arm, and the rooster in his hand flapped its wings vigorously, sending feathers flying everywhere.

That evening, around nine o'clock, the crackling flames in the fireplace warmed the Slytherin common room.

Owen stuffed his finished homework into his backpack, intending to find a place to learn Parsley from Tom in the diary, but suddenly felt something was off.

I could hear a soft rustling sound, and my vision was as if covered by a layer of blood-red frosted glass. An invisible pressure came from all directions, as if I had fallen into a viscous swamp.

A powerful and icy aura suddenly erupted from him, and a blurry black shadow flashed past behind him. This semi-transparent shadow opened its arms as if embracing something, then disappeared into the air, disappearing into the distance.

"The Vengeful Shadow's Revenge!"

Irving was startled as he snapped out of his daze and discomfort.

This is a dark spell he cast on himself to ward off curses, and it also has a counter-curse effect. When someone curses him, the vengeful shadow will return the curse it blocked to the caster, turning it into a very troublesome complex curse along with its own.

After learning the spell, Irving used it on himself, but he never expected it to come in handy at this moment.

"Someone is cursing me," Owen said, narrowing his eyes indifferently. "Voldemort?"

Who else but Voldemort in the Crown would curse him at this time?

"He knows my identity?" Owen frowned slightly, then shook his head. "No, I disguised myself very well when I went to the greenhouse to find him, and I acted decisively. He couldn't possibly recognize me. Or rather, he didn't have the time to identify me at all."

"So, he was simply cursing the person who attacked him, using the special properties of curse-type spells to autonomously find corresponding targets?"

"But I'm sure I didn't leave him any medium to curse me that day..." Curses require a medium, which can be the hair or blood of the cursed person. A skilled curse master can even curse a target with just a name or their own obsession.

"Wait, obsession?" Owen raised his long, pale fingers and gently touched his lips. "I attacked Voldemort, wiping out his life force that he had accumulated for a long time, which is almost equivalent to killing him once. In magic, this is a very deep connection, and coupled with his own obsession, it is indeed possible that he cursed me through this connection."

However, a curse that uses obsession as a medium is very difficult to execute, and the caster must also pay a price. The backlash from a failed curse is also more terrifying.

"Even at the risk of backlash, Voldemort still curses me. He really hates me to the core," he muttered to himself jokingly, but his expression turned serious.

"Seriously, I've become someone's obsession without even realizing it." It's not a pleasant feeling to be the target of a master of black magic and curses.

"However, you dare to curse me after only regaining a little strength? Who gave you the courage?" Owen suddenly revealed a mocking smile. "The backlash of a failed curse, the original curse returned, plus the curse of the vengeful shadow... You can have some peace and quiet for a while now."

With his fingers interlaced on his chest, Owen smiled as he stared at the flames in the fireplace. "I was planning to take this a break, but it seems... this game has to go on. Hmm, that's fine too; an interesting game always needs to have give and take."

"Then it's my turn. Let me think about what to do. I've got it! It seems the Etheric Society will be making another appearance, and besides that, there's... the Secret Chamber."

This dangerous yet exciting exchange from afar invigorated him, and Irving had to admit he was somewhat enjoying it.

A hand patted Owen on the shoulder, interrupting his thoughts. He turned to look behind him and saw Harry staring at him nervously.

"What's up?" Owen's smile was as gentle as ever, but deep malice and mockery seemed to be hidden in his dark eyes.

"Uh..." Harry was about to say something when he choked up. In his eyes, Owen's usually calm and deep eyes were now filled with a dark mist, and what was hidden beneath that darkness made him dare not and do not want to think about it.

"I...I just...I noticed you were acting a little...a little strange. I'm a little worried..." Harry stammered.

While he was doing his homework, he suddenly felt a chill run through his body. Out of the corner of his eye, he seemed to catch a glimpse of something dark and indistinct passing by Owen. The powerful, dark, and twisted feeling emanating from Owen gave him the illusion of being on a cold winter night.

"I'm fine." Owen blinked. In that instant, all the strangeness vanished.

Harry looked into Owen's clear and serene eyes, opened his mouth, and finally nodded with some difficulty. He sullenly sat back in his armchair, fidgeting restlessly.

He had never been so certain that something was wrong with Irving, whether he was being controlled like Neville, or whether he himself... For some reason, he even preferred the former possibility.

"What happened?" Draco, who was idly flipping through a wizard chess guide, looked over lazily and asked in a drawn-out tone. Blaise and the others were also looking in their direction.

"There's nothing there, Harry's making a fuss over nothing," Owen said, shrugging innocently.

He glanced at Daphne, whose beautiful, deep blue eyes held a look of astonishment and disbelief; she seemed to have been watching them the whole time.

Irving winked playfully at her with his left eye, then stretched and stood up to walk back to his dorm room.

……

Harry is having a lot of troubles lately.

Ever since he met Mr. Malfoy that day, Draco has often looked at him with resentment and made sarcastic remarks to him from time to time, as if he had been beaten up.

He still remembers how Owen almost choked with laughter after hearing the whole story of the conversation. His smug, amused look was so infuriating that it made him feel like he'd been tricked by the guy again.

Of course, this is just a tiny part of his many troubles; he has many more things to worry about.

Lately, he'd had a feeling something was off about Irving, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it, and he had no proof. This ambivalent feeling was driving him crazy, and he even started to wonder if he was just imagining things.

The investigation into the heir had reached a stalemate; both the crown and the diary had run dry. He could only focus his attention on Peter Pettigrew, the most likely suspect, hoping to find a breakthrough through him. However, while attempting to spy on him that night while wearing an invisibility cloak, he was spotted by a cat that Professor McGonagall had placed on patrol in the castle…

This is a sensitive time. The heirs are harming people with impunity, and Professor Sprout's greenhouse has been burned down by dark magic flames. Everyone is on edge like never before.

At this time, Harry was put in detention for sneaking out at night, and unsurprisingly, more rumors spread throughout the school, leading even the most skeptical students to believe that he was the heir to Slytherin—look, Harry Potter must have been caught on his way to open the Chamber of Secrets!

Now, Harry stared solemnly at a letter that had silently appeared on his bedside table, his paranoia deepening sadly once again.

On this slightly yellowed letter paper, a line of text was written in a flamboyant, flowing handwriting:

"Dear Mr. Harry Potter, as a research subject we value highly, you will be fortunate enough to become the cornerstone of our great experiment! We kindly remind you to take care of your personal safety, maintain a cheerful mood, and avoid unnecessary harm; otherwise, we will come to pick you up ahead of time."

The letter is signed "Etheric Society" at the bottom right, along with the Etheric Society's eye-shaped emblem with a cross-shaped pupil. The letters ES below the emblem are the abbreviation for the Etheric Society.

Harry angrily slammed the letter on the table. He thought he had escaped the shadow of the Aetherial Society, but he hadn't expected those guys to still be watching him and able to deliver letters to him silently. Those lunatics were even using him as a test subject, pretending to warn him to be careful, as if he couldn't escape their grasp no matter what…

However, since the people from the Aether Society are still hiding in Hogwarts, then they were the ones who burned down the greenhouse before, right? Could it be that the crown has fallen into their hands? He pondered thoughtfully.

Owen leaned over from the side, glanced at the contents of the letter, and said with interest, "Look, there's a group of people quietly caring about your safety without your knowledge. How 'lucky'!"

"Pah, whoever wants that kind of luck can have it!" Harry said angrily. He glanced at Owen, then suddenly raised his hand to grab the other's hand, but it was nimbly dodged. He tried to grab Owen's face, but all his attempts were in vain... Owen was the kind of person who wouldn't lose even when playing cat paw games, how could he let someone get away with it so easily?

"Do you know how weird you look?" Before Harry could get really angry, Owen graciously let him touch his hand, saying with a playful expression.

Harry stared at the still pale, smooth skin on Owen's hand, not seeing any blisters. He breathed a slight sigh of relief, turned around and went to find Draco, completely ignoring Owen's teasing, lest the guy get even more excited.

"Wow, is the Handshake Monster going to appear at Hogwarts again?" Owen said with a grin.

"No one's going to think you're mute if you don't talk, Owen," Harry said bitterly. This guy not only showed no concern after seeing the threatening letter he received, but he also intensified his teasing and mockery… yeah, he was right, Owen definitely has something wrong with him! At least some kind of mental problem!

Of course, he had no idea that the letter from the Ether Society was fabricated by this guy.

Irving simply said quietly, "What I'm trying to say is, your detention is going to be late..."

Harry paused for a moment, released Draco's paw, glanced at the time, and hurriedly went out.

"Do you think he's been acting a bit strange lately?" Draco asked, waving his hand dismissively.

"Maybe he just has a crush on you, Draco," Blaise said, feigning shyness as he touched his cheek. "Harry went out of his way to hold your hand tightly... but he's a bit of a fickle man; besides you, he also has his eye on Owen. Owen's just too handsome, isn't he?"

"I challenge you to a duel!" Draco angrily chased Blaise around the common room, calling for Crabbe and Goyle to help him corner him. Owen secretly and silently cast a spell, causing Blaise to scream and dance a bizarre and comical tap dance as if he were standing on hot irons, before being awkwardly pinned down by the two big guys.

Daphne looked up from her homework and saw this scene. She couldn't help but chuckle, glancing amusedly at Owen, who was secretly up to no good. Her clear, bright blue eyes were filled with a radiant smile. She seemed to have completely forgotten the strange thing she had seen in Owen that night.

Owen smiled slightly at her, everything understood without a word. Then, he secretly opened Tom's diary and began to learn Parsley.

Parsleyanism is an experimental creation of ancient sorcerers. Those born with Parsleyanism can not only communicate with snakes but also naturally control them, making them obey their commands. However, those who learn Parsleyanism later in life can only communicate with snakes and do not possess the magical power to make snakes obey naturally.

The pronunciation and grammatical structure of this language are completely different from those of humans, making it virtually impossible to learn Parsleyan pronunciation later in life. It's very difficult to make someone understand the subtle difference between two "hissing" sounds, and it's also very difficult to pronounce "hissing" in 180 different tones with a human throat.

Of course, with a good teacher providing careful instruction and the student being willing to put in the hard work, it is not impossible to learn.

Tom was undoubtedly a good teacher. He was incredibly patient, witty, and humorous, always able to draw on a wide range of sources, and constantly displayed great personal charm. Owen was also a good student. He could quickly memorize those difficult pronunciations and find ways to repeat those strange and awkward syllables.

However, judging from the current progress, learning the everyday language of Snake Mandarin is still a long and arduous task.

The atmosphere here was cheerful and harmonious, while Harry on the other side was filled with suspicion and paranoia.

Filch escorted him to the entrance of the Defense Against the Dark Arts office and told him he would be confined there for the night.

Harry had already suspected Peter Pettigrew of having something going on, but he never expected to be handed over to him. After entering the cramped office, he tensed up nervously, and after a lot of effort, he managed to mentally prepare himself, intending to take the opportunity to test the other party.

"Oh, Harry, you're here." Peter sniffed his mouse-like nose, rubbed his hands together, and chuckled, "Caught out at night? What student hasn't done that? We got caught plenty of times for it back in the day..."

"Help me grade this homework, it's much better than cleaning the toilet, isn't it?" He pointed to a thick stack of parchment on the table.

Harry grinned, took the stack of parchment, and without hesitation marked a "T" on his first paper, written in illegible handwriting.

For the rest of the time, the two chatted about various things. Peter tried his best to show concern, while Harry racked his brains to get information out of him, but he couldn't get any information out of him.

When Harry finally finished grading the stack of assignments and was rubbing his sore eyes, Peter asked, seemingly quite nervously, "Harry, what did you think of my class?"

"It's fine," Harry said reluctantly.

In fact, Peter Pettigrew's classes were hardly engaging. He always made what should have been exciting lessons dull and boring, and he was so weak that he lacked the authority of a professor. He couldn't control the naughty students and always ended up in a mess.

"...much better than our Defense Against the Dark Arts class last year," Harry thought for a moment and added sincerely. Just a little bit better, well, he didn't think any professor could be worse than Quirrell.

"You don't need to comfort me, Harry. I know I did terribly, and nobody likes my classes." Peter blinked his small, watery eyes sadly, his nose twitching slightly. "I can never do anything right, yet I lack the courage to change..."

"No, Pettigrew, I know you were willing to sacrifice your life to avenge my parents, which is something only the bravest people would do," Harry said, his head bowed and his tone very serious.

"Oh! Harry, you...you know?" Peter said in a shrill voice.

"I know, my parents died from a shameful betrayal," Harry said expressionlessly, clenching his fists tightly.

Peter flinched slightly, his expression instantly becoming extremely complicated, his small eyes quickly welling up with tears: "I never wanted you to know this..."

"Can you tell me about it, Little Pettigrew? What happened back then?" Harry glanced at him quickly. "My parents, you, and... and Sirius Black."

“We were…best friends back then.” Peter shifted uncomfortably, his expression momentarily dazed as if lost in distant, beautiful memories, but then turning to pain: “We were inseparable at school, sharing each other’s biggest secrets…” He mumbled a few words in an inaudible voice, then began to gnaw on his thumbnail, his brow furrowing tightly.

Harry could tell he didn't want to bring up his past with his parents at school. He was silent for a moment, then tentatively asked, "Little Pettigrew, that werewolf who appeared at school that day... when did you meet him?"

Peter glanced at him quickly from the corner of his eye, his gaze darting around, and muttered, "Back in Hogwarts, Remus was one of my best friends. James, Remus, Black, and me, the four of us..." His expression turned somber, "But all that is in the past."

"Is it one of the people in that photo?" Harry looked at him in surprise. He hadn't expected that the werewolf would have such a relationship with his parents.

"Yes, yes... but I ruined him, and almost ruined you, and so many students... I was so careless, I even forgot the date." Peter sobbed. "Remus will definitely hate me."

"That wasn't entirely your fault..." Harry pursed his lips. "After the incident that day, did you contact him?"

"I dare not contact him, I'm afraid I'll lose even this friend..." Peter said in a small voice, his voice trembling with sobs.

Harry closed his eyes, letting out a soft sigh of helplessness. He wondered how Pettigrew had become so fragile, or if this was just his nature. He comforted him, "No, I think true friends wouldn't hold grudges over something like this. Mutual trust, understanding, and support—that's what friendship is, isn't it?"

"Yes, absolutely right..." Peter's expression became complicated and dazed again. He lowered his head silently, his hands tightly clasped together. A long, oppressive silence filled the office before he finally spoke in a trembling, high-pitched voice, "Harry, you'd better leave Hogwarts this year..."

"Why?" Harry paused, then turned and stared intently at him. Did Pettigrew know something?

"I mean, there's danger here... there's danger here, isn't there? The Chamber of Secrets has been opened..." Peter said, his voice strained. He kept his head down and didn't look at Harry, all his expression hidden in the shadows of his hair, making him look somber and wooden.

"Get out of here, hide far away, somewhere no one can find you!" His voice was so sharp it was almost cracking.

"But Hogwarts is my home," Harry said sullenly. "I have nowhere to go, Pettigrew."

"Nowhere to go...yes, no choice...nobody has a choice." Peter raised his head slightly, his lively eyes flickering, his voice trembling unsettlingly. He suddenly became calm.

Harry felt inexplicably uncomfortable and uneasy. He opened his mouth, but ultimately didn't continue the topic: "Little Pettigrew, do you know an organization called the Aether Society?" He secretly observed the other person's expression.

"The Ether Society? I've never heard of it, Harry." Peter's watery eyes flickered. He shook his head, then asked cautiously, "Is this organization... important?"

"Oh, it's nothing." Harry didn't intend to say more. He felt there was no need to make Pettigrew even more anxious.

Peter's eyes darted around for a moment, then he looked up at the time and said, "It's already this late? I think you should go back. Oh, take this with you, don't go out at night lately..." He pulled a large bag of nut biscuits from the drawer and handed it to Harry.

Harry touched Peter's hand lightly as he took the biscuit, relieved to find nothing amiss. After saying goodbye to Peter, he bumped into Professor Snape as soon as he stepped out of the corridor where the office was located.

"Good evening, Professor Snape." Harry was a little surprised that the Dean would be here, since his office wasn't around here.

Snape glanced in the direction Harry had come from, his brow furrowing deeply, before speaking in a smooth, deep voice, "While your nightlife is certainly quite colorful, Potter, I don't think it's necessary to publicize such things, is it? I have to feel ashamed of you..."

Harry blushed, feeling teased, and took a deep breath, saying, "I understand, Professor." He absolutely mustn't get caught on his next nighttime outing!

Snape nodded almost imperceptibly, then turned and walked away. Harry clenched his fist. Although the Headmaster was a good person, his inarticulate tongue often infuriated people, making Harry frequently feel the urge to punch him in his presence…

"Phew, be respectful, be friendly, be self-controlled..." Harry took a deep breath and walked a considerable distance before glancing back thoughtfully. Professor Snape was lingering nearby; could he be keeping an eye on Peter Pettigrew? Just like he did with Quirrell last year...?

Harry had a very familiar sense of déjà vu, and his mood grew increasingly heavy.

……

After Harry left, Peter Pettigrew silently stared at the closed door, his expression suddenly becoming anxious and uneasy.

He bit his fingernails, his eyes scanning every nook and cranny of his surroundings warily, before finally pulling out a bag of biscuits and crunching away, leaving crumbs scattered all over the table.

After an unknown amount of time, the dim lights around him suddenly began to flicker, and several heavy shadows seemed to have appeared in the corners of the office.

"Insect Tail..." A faint and cold voice drifted over, echoing throughout the small office.

Peter jumped up from his chair, the cookies he was holding slipping off onto the table. He glanced sideways at the still-closed door, his expression a mixture of fear and obsequiousness, and said, "Master, you've come?"

"How's the task I gave you going?" the voice asked softly.

"Master, I... I couldn't find any clues about the Aetherial Society. I mean, I think they might not have been at Hogwarts this year." Peter rubbed his fingers anxiously.

"You think...maybe..." the voice repeated softly, making Peter tremble. "In other words, I've given you all this time, and today you're telling me you know nothing."

"Master! I approached Harry Potter as you instructed! I've been keeping an eye on him, but I haven't found anyone around him who could be an Aetherial Society spy. I only know that Snape is very interested in him!" Peter said urgently in a shrill voice. The annoying face of Gilderoy Lockhart flashed through his mind. That guy seemed to like getting close to Harry too, but he was just a fool who was desperate for headlines.

He scanned Lockhart's face out of his head and hurriedly added, "Today, Harry Potter asked me if I knew about the Aether Society... I think that organization is about to give itself away!"

"Severus Snape..." Voldemort's voice slowly repeated, then asked, "Was he a member of the Death Eaters?" When he created this Horcrux, Snape was still an insignificant student, so he naturally didn't know him.

"That's right, Master." Peter Pettigrew, though very puzzled as to why the Dark Lord didn't even remember his own followers, still recounted everything he knew about Snape, adding at the end, "Later, Dumbledore claimed that Snape was a spy he had placed by your side, which exonerated him after you left..."

"I see." Voldemort's voice was very calm.

After a moment of silence, the ethereal voice rang out again: "Wormtail, tell me, who wasn't there during the last Quidditch match?"

Peter Pettigrew paused for a moment, thought about it seriously, and then said, "None of the professors were absent that day. Until the end of the match, Neville Longbottom ran to the teachers' stands and said something to McGonagall, and then McGonagall informed Dumbledore, and the three of them left together."

"I heard it's because Sprout's greenhouse was burned down with black magic fire, and as for the rest..." he said timidly, "I don't know anything else."

"As for the students who watched the game that day, I don't know which ones weren't present." He paused, then quickly emphasized, "But I promise I'll find out tomorrow!"

"You won't let me down again, will you, Wormtail?" Voldemort said slowly, his voice trembling with weakness and exhaustion for the first time, as if he were suppressing some kind of pain.

Peter Pettigrew keenly sensed this change, which made him feel somewhat confused and panicked. He recalled the scene from ten years ago, when everything was over because of the Dark Lord's sudden disappearance. He feared the Dark Lord, but he was even more afraid that the other party would suddenly vanish like before—and then he would truly have nowhere to go.

"Master, are you... are you alright?" he asked cautiously.

"What do you think will happen to me?" Voldemort's voice suddenly turned cold and terrifying. "Or are you hoping something will happen to me so you can find a new backer?"

"No! Master, I am loyal to you! I would never think that way, and nothing will happen to you, Master!" Peter Pettigrew screamed, his knees buckling and he almost fell to his knees.

"On the contrary, I admit I'm very weak right now. Wormtail, there's no hiding that." Voldemort's voice softened slightly, yet it felt even more dangerous. "Lack of life force, and suffering from a curse... this interesting little curse makes my life force constantly drain away. It's not difficult to resolve, but it takes time, it takes more life force..."

Peter Pettigrew listened, trembling, not daring to make a sound.

Voldemort continued, "That's right. Just a few days ago, I experienced the most perilous moment of my life. My snakes gave their lives for me, offering themselves as sacrifices to awaken me from my slumber and allow me to barely control a snake's body."

"I entered the secret chamber and commanded the basilisk to bring me more sacrifices," he murmured. "Yes, I finally abandoned a certain arrogant insistence, no longer clinging to the idea of ​​obtaining life solely from wizards. I began to draw vitality from the blood of those filthy, disgusting animals..."

"The effect was immediate. Although it wasn't very efficient, it still restored some of my mobility. Until I decided to curse that despicable little rat who launched the sneak attack..." His voice suddenly became barely audible.

Peter shuddered, barely daring to breathe. He didn't know why the Dark Lord was telling him this, because he knew he had never truly earned the Dark Lord's trust.

When he was still a rat living by Ron Weasley's side, he had seen the crown but hadn't paid it any mind. It wasn't until Ron was possessed that he realized the Dark Lord resided within it and that the Dark Lord needed to drain his life force. His identity was quickly exposed; his Animagus form couldn't fool the Dark Lord's eyes.

Even though he pledged his loyalty to his master and explained what had happened years ago, he never saw the crown again after that. The Dark Lord didn't trust him and never even let him touch the crown, even though he was capable of far more than a minor wizard.

"I'm telling you all this so you understand that Voldemort is immortal, Wormtail," Voldemort said calmly. "Some people only dare to take advantage of me when I'm weak, but I can always rise again..."

Peter Pettigrew shuddered, a look of envy mixed with fear on his face.

"Alright, I hope you can find that little mouse hiding its head and tail for me." Voldemort's cold voice concealed a deep-seated hatred.

"But...but, Master...Harry..." Peter Pettigrew stammered, wringing his hands. "Master, when should we attack him?"

"Wait," Voldemort said succinctly.

“But… Master! Remus Lupin has escaped! Although I erased his memory, he will surely suspect me!” Peter’s voice suddenly became sharp and fearful. “Once he goes to see Sirius Black… once he writes to Dumbledore… I’m finished, Master! I won’t be here much longer!”

Ever since Lupin escaped, he had lived in constant fear, terrified that Dumbledore would suddenly find him, capture him, and hand him over to the Ministry of Magic. He wanted to flee immediately, but his master wouldn't allow it…

"You've disappointed me, Wormtail," Voldemort said lazily. "You didn't kill that werewolf sooner, instead you imprisoned him in your office, allowing him to escape on the night of the full moon... You're paying the price for your shameful weakness."

"I'm sorry, Master... I just thought he was still useful! If Lockhart hadn't dragged me to his office that day..." Peter Pettigrew sobbed as he defended himself, his face deathly pale.

"I don't want to hear stupid excuses, Wormtail." The cold voice echoed in his ears, weaving into a series of reverberations. "I can forgive your stupidity this time, but don't let it happen again."

"Thank you for your forgiveness, Master," Peter Pettigrew cried, "But how much longer must I wait?"

"Almost there, almost there..." The voice drifted away, gradually fading into the distance until it was completely gone.

The darkness in the corner of the office dissipated considerably, as if something hidden in the shadows had left, or perhaps it was just an illusion.

Peter Pettigrew stood there blankly for a long time, then collapsed weakly into a chair, his face ashen like a corpse. He remained dazed for a while, then began to sob softly, reaching into the cookie bag with one hand and taking out a nut cookie, which he then popped into his mouth.

(End of this chapter)