I am Peter Pettigrew

I marched up the stairs toward Dumbledore's office, my anger growing with each step. How many times had we turned a blind eye to Draco Malfoy's cruelty? How often had Severus Snape been allowed to get away with mocking and belittling students, especially those like Hermione Granger who he saw as easy targets? Enough was enough. This time, I wasn't going to stand by and watch it happen.

The gargoyle leapt aside as I spat out the password, and I didn't bother waiting for an invitation before pushing open the heavy door. Dumbledore was sitting behind his desk, as calm as ever, sorting through a pile of papers. That blasted twinkle in his eye barely faltered when he looked up at me. I could feel my teeth grind as I tried to keep my voice steady.

"Albus, we need to talk," I said, marching up to his desk. I didn't care if I was being too abrupt. Time for tiptoeing around issues had passed.

Dumbledore looked up with that infuriatingly calm expression of his. "Peter, please, take a seat. What seems to be troubling you?"

Troubling me? Was that all this was to him? A minor inconvenience? There's no way in hell he doesn't know everything that goes on in Hogwarts, especially what happens around Harry Potter.

I didn't sit. Instead, I took a breath and forced myself to keep my voice measured. "I just came from the infirmary. Hermione Granger was attacked by Draco Malfoy—hit with a curse that made her teeth grow uncontrollably. She was humiliated, in tears, Albus. And Snape was right there, watching the whole thing. He didn't lift a finger to stop it, and then had the audacity to mock her. This wasn't just a schoolyard spat; this was deliberate cruelty, and it's been allowed to happen right under our noses."

I could see Dumbledore's expression tighten ever so slightly, but he still kept that maddening composure. "Peter, children can be unkind, especially when tensions are high. Draco has a lot of—"

"No," I cut him off sharply, my voice rising despite my efforts to control it. "Don't make excuses for him. This isn't just about Draco's 'tensions.' This is about a spoiled bully who thinks he's above everyone else because he's been allowed to get away with it time and time again. And it's about Snape, who's more interested in nursing old grudges than protecting the students he's meant to teach. We can't keep turning a blind eye, Albus."

Dumbledore's gaze grew more serious, the twinkle fading slightly. "I understand your concern, Peter. But Severus has his reasons, and while his methods may be harsh—"

"Harsh?" I scoffed, unable to hold back my frustration any longer. "You call letting a girl suffer and then mocking her for it 'harsh'? It's cruelty, plain and simple. And if you won't do something about it, I will. As a professor, I have certain privileges, and I intend to use them. Malfoy won't get away with this."

Dumbledore's expression finally hardened. "Peter, I must caution you against letting anger cloud your judgment. The relationships within this school are more delicate than they may seem."

"Spare me the lecture, Albus," I snapped, leaning forward. "We can't keep hiding behind excuses about delicate relationships while students like Hermione are being targeted. I'll deal with Malfoy within my rights as a teacher. But as for Snape… if you don't handle him, I will. I'm tired of watching him poison this place with his petty vendettas."

The room fell silent, the air thick with tension. For a moment, Dumbledore's eyes lost that grandfatherly warmth and turned cold, calculating even. He knew I was serious, and he knew that I wasn't going to be easily pacified this time. After what felt like an eternity, he sighed and leaned back in his chair.

"Very well, Peter," he said quietly, though there was a note of warning in his tone. "I will speak with Severus. But remember, these matters are rarely as simple as they seem."

"They are this time," I replied curtly, turning on my heel and heading for the door. "We're here to protect the students, not our own egos. If you don't deal with him properly, don't be surprised if I do."

As I left Dumbledore's office, my resolve only grew stronger. No more excuses, no more sweeping things under the rug. This school had turned a blind eye to too much cruelty, most of it which I was responsible for, but that's not here nor there. No one does anything to my Hermione.

Malfoy and Snape were about to learn that some lines couldn't be crossed without consequences.

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The door to Dumbledore's office closed behind me with a dull thud, and I stood in the dimly lit corridor for a moment, letting my frustration simmer down into something colder and more controlled. The Headmaster's willingness to brush off what had happened infuriated me, but I knew that confrontation wasn't enough. Malfoy would be handled, but I needed leverage to deal with Snape if Dumbledore wouldn't.

I slipped into one of the castle's shadowy alcoves, a place where the light didn't quite reach and the stone walls muffled any sound. I pulled a familiar, worn piece of parchment from my robes and tapped it with my wand, whispering the incantation with practiced ease. "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."

Ink spread across the parchment in thin, looping lines until the entire castle was laid out before me. Every room, every corridor, and every person within its walls appeared, labeled with neat names. I scanned the map quickly, searching for the one person who might help me without realizing it—Rita Skeeter.

There she was, a tiny dot labeled "Rita Skeeter," moving stealthily along the second floor, not far from where the wand-weighing ceremony had just ended. She was lingering, her pace slow and deliberate—classic behavior for a reporter sniffing out a story. I knew her tricks, though. She was using her Animagus form—a beetle—to skulk around and listen to private conversations, gaining information she had no business knowing.

I folded the map and tucked it away before pulling out another item from my robes—a shimmering Invisibility Cloak. As I draped it over myself, the cloak fell into place with a smooth whisper, rendering me invisible. I made my way through the corridors, sticking to the edges of the walls where the shadows were deepest.

It didn't take long to catch up with her. I saw her duck into a darkened corridor, far from the main paths students and teachers normally took. I followed, keeping my footfalls silent. The dim torches barely lit the hallway, and I could see her glance around to make sure no one was watching before she transformed. One second, there stood a sharp-featured woman in emerald-green robes, and the next, a small, glinting beetle buzzed through the air, landing on a window ledge.

Rita flew along the corridor, landing briefly on walls and ledges, her tiny legs twitching as she listened for anything worth writing about. It didn't take long before she settled on a secluded ledge, probably trying to find a juicy bit of gossip that would make tomorrow's headlines. I crept up behind her, careful not to make a sound. She was focused on whatever she was spying on, completely unaware of my presence.

With a swift flick of my wand, I cast a nonverbal Stunning Spell. A faint red light shot from the tip of my wand, striking the beetle squarely. She froze mid-scuttle, her legs splayed stiffly in the air. I caught her before she tumbled to the floor, wrapping her carefully in a handkerchief before slipping her into my pocket.

I smirked beneath the cloak. Got you.

No one was around. Good. The last thing I needed was someone asking questions.

I moved quickly, taking hidden passages and shortcuts that few knew about until I reached my office. I was surprised to find a bunch of students in the DADA class outside my office.

Oh, in the anger of finding out about Hermione I totally forgot about my schedule. Still under the invisibility cloak I discreetly enter my office.

Once inside, I placed a locking charm on the door and cast a quick Silencing Spell for good measure. No one would be hearing us.

I took out the handkerchief and set it on my desk, casting the counter-curse to return her to her human form. In an instant, the stunned beetle transformed back into Rita Skeeter, her bright red lipstick and heavily styled hair just as gaudy as ever. She was slumped unconscious across the chair, eyes closed, still under the effects of the Stunner.

I stepped back, crossing my arms as I considered my options. Rita was a problem, but she was also an opportunity. She had information, influence, and the willingness to print anything if it served her interests. I would make sure that when she woke up, she'd know exactly what was at stake—and how useful she could be if she wanted to keep her little secret safe.

A slow grin crept across my face. The game was just getting started.

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The corridor was filled with expectant faces when I stepped out of my office. The second-year Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors had been waiting for over half an hour, likely wondering where their professor was. I smoothed out my robes, letting my expression shift into something warm and welcoming—a stark contrast to the dark thoughts that lingered beneath the surface.

"Apologies, class!" I called out, my voice laced with just the right mix of regret and cheerfulness. Their attention snapped to me, and I could see the curiosity in their eyes. Good. Keep them focused on the image I want them to see, not on what's really going on. "I was caught up in a… pressing matter. Sometimes things come up unexpectedly in the life of a teacher, but I'm so grateful you all waited so patiently."

A few exchanged glances, but none of them pressed further. Perfect. They were too young to question me, too eager to please. I clapped my hands, injecting some enthusiasm into my voice. "Let's make up for lost time, shall we? We have 40 minutes left, and I guarantee we'll make the most of it!"

That was all it took. Their eyes brightened, and they eagerly followed me into the classroom, oblivious to the fact that just moments ago, I'd been plotting something far darker than simple charms lessons. Switching gears was effortless—I've had years of practice hiding my true self. I led them through the lesson with charm and energy, guiding them through simple spells that sparked bright lights and colorful trails. They laughed, they enjoyed themselves, and I made sure to be the approachable, kind professor they could trust.

Every smile I gave, every word of praise was calculated, designed to make them think they were safe with me. And they were—at least for now. I moved between them, correcting their technique with a gentle hand here, a bit of encouragement there. The classroom buzzed with excitement, the perfect cover for what was really running through my mind.

When the lesson ended, they left in high spirits, several of them thanking me as they filed out. I returned the pleasantries with a smile, but the moment the last student was gone and the door clicked shut, I let my expression drop. The mask slipped away, revealing the calculating, ruthless mind beneath.

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