Lupin's gaze stayed fixed on those two words.
"How could this be?" Lupin murmured.
He had never imagined that Peter Pettigrew was still alive.
He had even shed tears over his death.
He had thought he had lost all his friends-that the one still alive was a traitor, and the one who had died was a hero.
But now, that "hero" was curled up in an eleven-year-old boy's hand, in the form of a rat.
And Peter had originally learned to take that form to keep him company.
No wonder he had seemed so familiar. Deep down, though, Lupin had always believed his friend Peter was dead.
That was why he had never dared recognize him.
Lupin instinctively drew his wand from his pocket and pointed it at the rat in Gerald's hand.
He had already begun to draw his own conclusions.
A friend hailed as a hero had not only returned from the dead, but had been living as a rat all this time.
Why would a hero willingly live as a rat?
The answer was obvious.
"Reveal yourself."
A soft white light shot from the tip of his wand and enveloped the rat.
The grayish-brown rat's body began to swell rapidly, its limbs lengthening and thickening.
In less than five seconds, the fat rat had become a short, stocky man, standing on the floor of Lupin's cottage and trembling.
"It really is you!" Lupin's face twisted with shock.
"Oh, my dear friend," Peter Pettigrew said in a shrill, oily voice. "It's been so long. How have you been?"
He took a step toward Lupin, rubbing his hands together in front of his chest and forcing an exceedingly strained smile onto his face.
"You look well. Really well. I've been-"
"Stay away from me." Lupin stepped back and raised