Chapter 150: Chapter 150: The Opened Locket
Pettigrew was inextricably bound, visibly trembling as he surveyed the unfamiliar faces before him, his eyes akin to those of a cornered rat – darting with anxiety. "Remus, Sirius," Pettigrew squeaked in his characteristically high-pitched tone, scrutinizing the surroundings, "my dear friends…"
A spark of excitement and hatred danced in Sirius's deep-set eyes, anticipation fueling his impatient demeanor as he hoisted his wand aloft. However, a deft maneuver from Lupin intervened. In front of the awed gaze of Harry and his companions discernment dawned; Pettigrew was ensnared in a web of his own deceit. Bereft of any solution in speech or potential reprieve, Pettigrew succumbed completely to his despair. His pleading eyes lifeless, he implored unceasingly: "Sirius, me, Peter, your friend. You wouldn't... You wouldn't just execute me, would you? Don't forget all the years we've spent together! I would never to harm to my friends if he hadn't forced me!"
Succumbing to his disgust, Sirius repudiated the pleas with a swift kick, his disdain as overt as if he were disposing of rubbish. Smeared with mucus and streaked with tears, Pettigrew slithered on his belly, desperately reaching for Lupin's empathy. But Lupin was unmoved. He then beseeched Ron and Harry, hoping that they could intercede on his behalf; however, Ron recoiled in repulsion. "You pervet slept in my bed! You shat on Harry's pillow, you're sick in the head!"
Craving swift retribution, Sirius raised his wand anew, in synchronization with Lupin. Sherlock felt a wave of unease wash over him. The disquieting sensation of time's incessant ticking amplified in his ears every passing second, as the sound grew louder.
"End this already, don't let our slumber be tormented by a lingering conscience," he prompted. Sirius and Lupin, now no longer hesitant, drafted up their arms to cast the decisive spells. However, Harry disrupted the impending doom with a sudden interjection.
"No! You can't kill him!"
Upon hearing Harry's outcry, both Lupin and Sirius paused in bewilderment, their eyes locking onto the protestor. "He's the man responsible for your parents' brutal murder, Harry!" Sirius boomed, "He betrayed them! This pathetic vermin wouldn't blink seeing you murdered by Voldemort. Did his words fall upon your deaf ears? His survival surpasses your entire family's existence in importance!"
"I understand all that," Harry interjected, gasping for breath, "But let's bring him back to the castle, throw him to the Dementors, or let him rot in Azkaban... just don't murder him. If he dies, your innocence will forever remain disputed. His life is too trivial... it's not worth it, Sirius."
On recognizing Harry's logic, Sherlock released a sigh of relief. He appreciated Harry's rationale, even such a fast-pace situation, confronted with the traitor that caused his parents' murder he kep a cool head and didn't lose sight of what most to him.
Sirius gyrated conflicting emotions on his grim visage. His desire for immediate vengeance on Pettigrew grappled with the necessity of honoring Harry's wishes. After all, out of those gathered, it was Harry who wielded the authority to decide Pettigrew's fate. An inkling of hope restored, Pettigrew hysterically clung onto Harry's leg, effusively expressing his gratitude amidst fresh tears. However, Harry coldly dismissed him. Instantaneously, Sherlock questioned, turning his gaze towards the grateful man. "Does the petrificus totalus spell prevent an Animagus transformation?"
An inexplicable disturbance unsettled his heart. His mind was preoccupied with a memory where a rat played truant, thereby necessitating a reassurance about Peter's state. Sirius negated the possibility, "No, Animagus transformation relies on the intrinsic magic within wizards. It doesn't necessitate an incantation or a wand, just a thought is enough."
Sensing his disquiet, Lupin intervened. "Rest assured, if Pettigrew attempts a transformation, both Sirius and I will kill him. Does that satisfy you, Harry?"
Harry assented, offering no resistance to this proposed caveat. Although their plan seemed foolproof, Sherlock couldn't shake off an unsettling misgiving despite his inability to ascertain its origin. "So the mind facilitates transformation?" He raised his wand towards a terrified Peter and incanted, "Stupefy."
The resplendent red ray from his wand struck Pettigrew who drooped, his head bowed, surrendering to a profound sleep. Sherlock's face softened in relief. "That ought to ensure he can't run."
"Your caution is excessive, Sherlock," rebuked Lupin, "then again great caution rarely backfires.."
Sirius and Lupin seized Pettigrew under his arms, hoisting his limp form. Hermione's pet, Crookshanks, sauntered ahead, exuding an unearned aura of a hero. Sirius and Harry, having just acknowledged their godfather-godson relationship, engaged in a deep conversation. Sherlock, however, refrained from joining them or listening in on their private conversation; instead he concentrated on the subtly echoing peculiar sound, endeavoring to identify its source. As he cast his eyes skyward, they met the full beaming moon suspended amidst the constellations. He froze in apprehension.
In a startling instance of revelation, Sherlock Forester grasped the perplexing mystery that had been dogging him, the entire time he had felt the nagging sensation that he had forgotten something important. He quickly turned to Lupin, whose face was as pallid as the moon overhead by now.
"Remus!" he blurted.
At this sudden proclamation, Harry along with his friends at the fringe of the Forbidden Forest gasped in shock. Sherlock held his gaze steady on Lupin, as he furrowed his brows and asked, "What, Sherlock?"
Resolutely, his piercing gaze nailed Lupin who seemed taken aback. "You told me earlier today that Snape still hasn't given you this cycle's potion," Sherlock recalled.
A faint colour drained from Lupin's face, rendering it even ashen. "I can't go back to the castle!" he admitted.
Harry and Ron stared in baffled curiosity, oblivious to Lupin's true identity. In stark contrast, Hermione appeared contemplative, as if Sherlocks' words had only confirmed her suspicions. Sirius caught on at this point looking worriedly into the Forbidden Forest behind him. "Hurry up, Remus! Run as deep into the forest as you can. The further the better!" he urged.
At that precise moment, an alien voice echoed out from nowhere. "There's no need to flee, Lupin. I have your potion right here."
Out of the darkness in the direction of the Hogwarts Castle, the soft footfalls of an approaching figure resonated. Emerging from the shadows, the roughly slicked back hair of Severus Snape reflected the moonlight above. He approached them with an almost impish grin on his sallow face, cradling a bottle of the potion in one hand and his wand in the other. Seeing him, Lupin's previously despairing eyes brightened. "Thank you, Snape, but how did you find us?"
Sherlock, however, was not so easily won over, the expression Snape wore when looking at Lupin and Sirius was off. The look on Snape's face stirred an eerie sense of familiarity; it reminded him of the vitriolic hate Sirius had displayed upon confronting Peter.
Evasive, Snape dodged Lupin's outstretched grasp for the potion and kept his wand aimed at Sirius.
"I believe I've uncovered a graver concern than merely delivering a potion," Snape pronounced, a disconcertingly dark undercurrent in his voice. "Two esteemed Hogwarts professors and three Gryffindor students conducting a secret meeting with the country's most wanted fugitive in the middle of the night! What, pray tell, is the occasion for your little get-together?"
Sirius cut in, his intense worry for Lupin shadowing over the squabble. "Hold your tongue, Snape, as always you're clueless as to what's going on. The pressing matter here is Lupin's potion, now hand it over!"
Despite Sirius's imploring command, Snape stood his ground. "Why not wait? Let him morph into a werewolf, reveal his true face. The Dementors will arrive soon, they'll bear witness to their most wanted fugitive and an unhinged werewolf. I wonder what they'd do then?"
Snape's face was awash with sadistic pleasure at his impending revenge. Just as he reveled in it, a spellbound red light abruptly struck him from behind, petrifying him on the spot. Leaping into action from behind Snape, a lone floating wand had cast the spell before spiraling back towards Sherlock's waiting hand. Sirius barked out, supporting the now kneeling Lupin, "Get out of here! Lupin's about to transform!"
Sherlock, understanding the urgency of the situation, moved swiftly to aid the ailing Lupin with the potion. Approaching the immobile figure of Snape, the air thickened with the loud, ominous ticking. It crescendoed and resonated like a countdown to an inevitable doom. Sherlock's anxiety grew with every step, culminating the instant he touched Snape's still hand to retrieve the potion.
Then - it stopped.
The world held its breath – the relentless ticking, Sirius' panicked urges, even the falling leaves stopped in mid-air.
Everything had simply frozen.
In the stillness, Sherlock plucked the potion from Snape's hand and observed the man seething with powerless fury could still blink. As Sherlock looked around, everyone else - Sirius anxiously aiding Lupin, Lupin doubled over in pain, and the wide-eyed trio, Harry, Ron, and Hermione—appeared as if suspended in time. As confusion washed over him, Sherlock could only mutter "What on Earth...?".
Suddenly it dawned on him.
His gaze fell to the pendant box hanging around his neck, and to his astonishment, it had sprung open without his awareness.
Inside, nestled within, was a golden pocket watch, its surface devoid of numbers or markings. It appeared ordinary at first glance, but as Sherlock's eyes stared at it, inspecting every inch, he was met with an astonishing revelation—the solitary pointer on the watch face was spinning madly, not forward, but backward, seemingly defying the very essence of time itself!
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