Loren wilted under the clear, foolish innocence in Ron's eyes. Afraid his conscience might betray him into confessing the truth, he quickly changed the subject.
"We'll just wait for Hagrid's reply. You lot should wash up—I've got something to do."
He slipped out of the dormitory, eager to test his new specimen.
The best place for such work was the Room of Requirement. He paced past the tapestry three times, asking for a chamber to practice spells, and entered.
For safety, he didn't release Scabbers directly into the room. Instead, he drew out a specially crafted trunk from his personal space, climbed inside, and shut the lid.
This was no ordinary trunk, but a masterpiece of his latest magical research. Sealed tight, it opened to a vast interior, much like Newt Scamander's enchanted case. Inside was a complete setup: his alchemy workshop and broad open space under a shifting sky. No earth or plants yet, but he meant to collect some during the holidays.
Loren entered the alchemy workshop, moving into a chamber marked "Testing Room." In its center sat a table, Scabbers waiting in a box atop it.
With a flick of his wand, the box sprang open. Scabbers, drenched in powdered magical catnip extract, floated into the air before him.
The rat was unconscious, limbs twitching in euphoric dreams. Too much catnip had sent his brain into protective shutdown.
"Scourgify." Loren cleaned him off, then set him gently back on the table. A sharp "Rennervate" brought him around. Loren concealed himself nearby, watching.
Scabbers twitched, then went still. A moment later he rolled over and sprang up, staring at the catnip powder, trembling with the urge to dive back in. Desperation forced him to shed his rat form.
As Peter Pettigrew, the craving lessened, though remnants of the rat's euphoria clouded his mind. He staggered and gasped until at last he steadied himself and began surveying the room.
Bare walls, a distant door, bright overhead lamps. He looked down—sitting on a table inscribed with runes.
"It seems our little rat has woken."
Loren dropped his Disillusionment Charm, speaking at last.
Peter froze, startled. He had scanned the room carefully and thought himself alone. Now, panicking, he shifted back to a rat, trying to flee—only to collapse into another wave of bliss as the catnip took hold again. Several minutes passed before he could return to human form, gasping heavily.
Loren didn't move. He simply watched. This table was his masterpiece, "God's Chessboard," designed to trap anything upon it. Pettigrew wouldn't escape.
Realizing further disguise was useless, Peter turned toward him.
"Oh—it's you."
"Yes," Loren replied, smiling. "Good to finally meet, Mr. Rat."
Peter's eyes darted, and he began his lies at once.
"Thank you! I'm just a poor wizard. I tried the Animagus ritual and failed, cursed to live as a mindless rat. You've saved me—I can't thank you enough."
Loren said nothing, smiling faintly.
Peter, thinking he didn't understand Animagi, elaborated. "It's a very advanced transfiguration, dangerous too. I failed at the last step, so I was trapped as a rat for years."
Still, Loren stayed silent.
Believing he had earned trust, Peter stretched, then suddenly lunged for Loren's wand.
But instead of landing, he drifted forward endlessly, never closing the gap, shrinking while Loren loomed larger and larger. Flailing, he realized he was floating, growing smaller, trapped in the board's magic. After minutes of useless paddling through the air, he drifted back to center, face pale.
"What is this? Am I trapped? Loren, get help!"
A chair appeared behind Loren. He sat and unfolded a newspaper. The headline faced Peter:
"HERO PETER PETTIGREW SLAUGHTERED BY FRIEND SIRIUS BLACK—ONLY A FINGER REMAINS."
Peter's blood froze. He hid his maimed hand behind his back, bowing his head.
Then a thought struck him—Loren hadn't asked his name. He might still bluff.
But when he lifted his eyes, hope withered again. Loren was holding the Marauder's Map, the one he had made with James, Sirius, and Lupin.
Relief came quickly: the map was blank. Loren didn't know how to use it.
Peter stayed quiet, biding time. After ten minutes, he ventured:
"Loren, that looks like a prank parchment. If you want to reveal hidden information, you can use a Revelio Charm. The incantation is simple—I can show you."
At last Loren looked up.
"Yes, yes!" Peter cried, eager. "Just point your wand at it and say, 'Show me your secrets.' It will reveal everything."
Loren raised the parchment, wand tip pressed to it. His lips curved as he spoke:
"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good. Isn't that right, Mr. Pettigrew?"
"Yes, yes—wait…"
Peter faltered. Loren not only knew the correct words but his name. Ice spread through him as though he had plunged into a frozen lake.
Shaking, he tried once more. "Listen, Loren! Years ago I fought Sirius Black, Voldemort's spy. I was gravely wounded, forced to use an unfinished Animagus spell to escape. I've been trapped as a rat ever since. You freed me!"
Loren tucked away the newspaper and the map, rose, and circled the table slowly. At a certain spot, he pressed a hidden switch beneath it. The runes dimmed and went dark.
Peter tested a step. Nothing happened. Elated, he lunged again, intent on seizing the wand.
But Loren slipped aside, caught him midair, and slammed him down. He twisted Peter's arm behind his back, pinning him to the floor.
Leaning close, Loren whispered in his ear.
"Wormtail, I don't care for your story. But it's a good one. I think I'll send it to the Daily Prophet."
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