scratches all up and down his body and his face," he frowned, as though the memory pained him.

"We had to do something. James was all too happy to agree, and Pete was all too happy to do whatever James and I did." His expression grew stormy again. "Pete always followed the tougher crowd. We should have known what he'd do when Voldemort came to power."

"So he's still alive, then," I reasoned. "And that's why you're here. You think he's at Hogwarts?"

"I know he's at Hogwarts," Sirius nodded savagely. "I saw him in the Daily Prophet. On the shoulders of one of those boys. Your friend, the ginger, who you sat with at the match. I identified Pettigrew because he was missing a toe — the finger he cut off that night just before he transformed and ran away."

"Scabbers?" I blanched. "But, there's no way. Scabbers has been the Weasley family rat for years. Ron sleeps with him in his bed."

"His bed, you say?" Sirius perked up. I shot him a look.

"Don't get any ideas." I warned. "So, let's say that you're telling the truth, and that Ron's old family rat is Peter Pettigrew in disguise and the key to proving your innocence, why hasn't he tried to hurt Harry before?"

"Because why would he, if Voldemort is dead and his supporters are still lying low?" Sirius supplied easily. "Pettigrew is a coward, first and foremost. He was willing to betray his best friends for his own pathetic life, who says he wouldn't do the same when the tables are turned?"

I sat with this for a moment. His logic made sense, the more I started to unpack it. Each of my questions he had an answer for, and when I was finally convinced I realized the other problem on our hands.

"Okay, well, bad news then." I pulled my knees into my chest. "Pettigrew is gone. I reckon he faked his death and ran away once again. Hermione's got this cat, see, and Ron's already suspicious of him. It wouldn't take much to frame a murder." I hummed in thought. "Come up to my room in Gryffindor tower, first bed on the right when you walk in. We can talk there."

Sirius gave me a deadpan look. "I can't get in. I don't have the password, and boys can't go up your staircase."

This was news to me. "Really? I can go up to Ron and Harry's just fine."

"Seems a bit unfair, doesn't it?" Sirius groveled, as though he were all too familiar with the situation. "The amount of women who chased Prongs up the stairs every day . . ."

"You can get in as a dog." I surmised. "And I have them, right here." I fished from my pocket the list of passwords I'd made for Neville. Guess I'll just have to make him a new one later. "Since you slashed the Fat Lady we got stuck with this awful knight character. He changes them all the time, so you might have to read off the whole list."

Sirius took them gratefully, scanning the text. "You know how risky it is for you to be helping me, right?"

"Doing the right thing is worth any amount of risk," I told him sincerely. "You're innocent, you've convinced me. Now I have to help you convince the world. Especially after all you've done for my family."

"Spoken like a true Gryffindor," Sirius beamed up at me from the ground.