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HP: Bloodraven Chapter 216 - Remnants of Mischief (IV)
🕑 Added 2025-07-27 19:56:08 +0000 UTCIf looks could kill, Peter would have been dead a hundred times by now. Seeing that the two he once called best friends hadn’t believed a word of his lies, he could only wail, counting the seconds.
“No… no—please!” Snot oozed down his rat mouth like a broken pipe, mixing with the spit and tears as he blubbered for mercy. “My friends… please, it’s me… it’s Peter!”
And all of it—the whimpering, the pleading, the pitiful little gasps—just bounced off the two of them like rain on stone, as they watched the traitor fall apart.
"Why don’t we start with their favorite curse, Remus? The one Voldemort’s lot used on so many of us... Would be a shame to let him die without a little pain, don’t you think?"
“No!”
Pettigrew shook his head frantically, as if he had just heard his own death sentence. He looked between them with desperate eyes, hands pressed together in mock-prayer, sobbing pitifully, stripped of all dignity.
"I’m your friend... your friend... you wouldn’t... Please..."
He was so repulsive, so far beneath contempt, that the two of them nearly abandoned their plans to make him suffer. Killing him would be a mercy. Not for him, but for them.
Perhaps that had been the rat’s plan all along: to abandon every last shred of dignity, hoping their sheer disgust might change their minds. After all, traitor though he was, he had once been their friend, and he knew them better than anyone.
For a moment, it actually worked. Black and Lupin both lowered their wands.
Unfortunately, Pettigrew let out a pitiful little sigh of relief.
And that was his mistake.
Black and Lupin’s expressions darkened at once as they realized they had been played again. They shared a look and, with a single nodd to each other, reached an unspoken agreement.
Peter watched his former friends slowly holster their wands, thinking his pathetic display had finally worked—until he saw them crack their knuckles. His face fell, and his expression twisted into one of sheer terror.
Seeing the wicked grins stretched across their faces—wide, a little unhinged, and far too gleeful—Peter was suddenly reminded of the schoolyard bullying they used to dish out back at Hogwarts.
Only, this wasn’t going to be anything like that. This time, he was on the receiving end—and what he was about to get had twelve years of betrayal and bitterness packed into it.
His eyes widened so much it looked like they might pop out of their sockets.
“W-Wait! Remus... Sirius... Please—wait!”
“No.”
“Stay back!”
“Please—!”
“No—!”
Outside the cell, Maverick listened to the pitiful wails and allowed himself a small smile—the first time since coming down here.
He was hoping Black wouldn’t give in to impulse and kill the rat on the spot—and thankfully, he didn’t. That was good, because Black could be a very useful tool—*cough*, an ally—in the future, both politically and as a mage of reasonable talent.
Of course, even if Black—or even Lupin—tried to kill Peter, Maverick was ready to intervene. Though he looked relaxed, he was always prepared to step in if things went too far.
As for the bloody beating happening now, he saw no reason to stop it. If anything, letting the two men vent their long-buried rage was probably the healthiest thing for them.
---
The beatdown continued.
Sirius and Lupin didn’t use any magic, relying instead on good old fists and boots to do the heavy lifting, pounding the pathetic rat until he was barely clinging to consciousness.
Maverick, standing off to the side with Jameson, occasionally cast healing charms—just enough to keep Pettigrew breathing and reset the cycle.
The sounds of crying, howling, and flesh striking flesh went on for nearly an hour.
By the time it was over, it wasn’t Pettigrew who collapsed. Maverick had ensured the rat stayed conscious—barely alive, but alive all the same. Instead, it was the two Marauders who finally dropped to their knees, every ounce of strength wrung out of them.
Their fists throbbed, their muscles screamed, and their chests heaved with exhaustion, but the rage had passed. What remained was a shattered traitor lying in a pool of his own failure—bloodied, broken, but still breathing.
The matter was over. At least, for now. Pettigrew would still remain in captivity, but Sirius and Lupin had earned their moment of catharsis before the rat was handed over to the British Ministry of Magic.
---
Later, in the private study at Greengrass Manor, they all gathered—partly to discuss the road ahead, partly to share a few drinks.
Of course, Maverick already had the plan mapped out in his head, but it never hurts to hear what other people had to say.
It was decided: Pettigrew would be handed over to the Aurors—specifically to someone tough enough not to flinch and too straight to be bought.
Maverick already had the perfect person in mind, and the handover was set for the Christmas break. Until then, Pettigrew would remain presumed dead—just as he had been for the past decade—and Sirius would continue to lie low.
“I never thought your goal was to take over the Ministry, Caesar,” Sirius muttered, slouched in a velvet armchair with a bottle of magical liqueur in hand. He looked like a man who had both achieved long-awaited revenge and, at the same time, lost the purpose that drove him. “And here I thought you were helping me out of the kindness of your heart…”
“Don’t be rude, Padfoot,” Remus said, sipping from his own glass—half full, or perhaps half empty, depending on how much magical alcohol was clouding his judgment. “If it weren’t for Master Caesar, you’d still be hiding in alleyways, digging food out of garbage bins.”
“And mind you, Lord Black,” Greengrass added with a stern tone, “you’re speaking to an Archmage. And my leader. In my own house. I suggest you show some proper respect.”
Maverick didn’t mind Black’s sharp remark. By now, he understood the man well enough—wild, undisciplined, reckless. The type who never thought more than a step ahead. But fiercely loyal to those he cared about.
He let it slide with a shrug. Besides, Black was clearly drunk.
Sirius then, all of a sudden, burst out laughing, making everyone turn their heads to him. “Ah… apologies, gentlemen. I just never imagined I’d be addressed as Lord Black one day…” He hiccupped bitterly. “Feels like a joke.”
“You are, officially or not, the heir to the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black,” Greengrass said. “The only other living Black-blooded individuals don’t bear the family name. And given that your father was Orion Black himself, no one has a stronger claim than you.”
Sirius hiccupped again and shook his head. “I’ve got absolutely no interest in being lord of that blasted house. To hell with the Black family.”
“Poor Headmaster Phineas... He’d probably claw his way out of his portrait in Dumbledore’s office if he heard that,” Maverick chuckled. “Though if you reject the responsibility, it will eventually fall to Lucius Malfoy’s son. And I hear you and Lord Malfoy aren’t exactly best mates.”
Sirius blinked, the realization dawning despite the fog of drink. His scowl returned, but he said nothing more.
And Maverick was sure of one thing from that brief change in expression—Sirius wouldn’t let the family fortune fall into Lucius Malfoy’s hands, even if the heir in question was Draco, son of Narcissa—his own cousin.
Turning to Greengrass, Maverick changed the subject. “Have you spoken to Bones and Shacklebolt?”
“I have,” Lord Greengrass nodded. “They’ve agreed to meet... time and place at your discretion.”
“Good,” Maverick said, rubbing his chin. “Set it for the beginning of next month. Invite them here.”
“What are you planning to do with Bonesy, Caesar?” Sirius interjected, voice slurred.
Maverick raised an eyebrow and looked to Lupin for context.
Remus chuckled knowingly. He didn’t mind at all that Sirius was right next to him, and spilled all the details.
Apparently, back in their school days, Sirius and Amelia had a thing for each other. Even after Hogwarts, it never really stopped. It wasn’t quite a relationship, more like a constant push and pull. They liked each other but were just too different to make it work.
Sirius groaned and nearly threw his bottle at Lupin. “Shut it, Moony.”
Unfortunately, the damage was done, and the men shared a quick laugh over it.
Returning to the discussion, Maverick laid out his instructions to Greengrass on how to proceed until the meeting next month. He spoke freely, even with Sirius and Lupin present, because there wasn’t anything particularly sensitive in the first place.
Besides, he was certain that he would have both men fully on his side sooner rather than later. For Sirius, the chance to take revenge on Peter, to avenge his dead best friend, and to clear his name was more than enough of a favour.
As for Lupin, the promise of justice held the same weight—but Maverick also had something planned for him, something significant enough to change his entire life for the better. Winning him over was only a matter of time.
Later, Maverick helped the drunken mutt back to the London residence, where Ali was already waiting, then used the fireplace to return to Hogwarts with Lupin.
With that, the night’s business was done, and Maverick was satisfied with how everything had turned out.
Comments
Dark_pheonix
Thanks for the chapter!
QuantumServer
Thanks for the chapter
Mohamed Rayyaan
Thank you. I'll make the change.
avatarjedi
Sirius’ dad was Orion. Arcturus is his grandfather
