The moment Peter heard the sound, he pressed his entire body against the ground, his four paws digging tightly into the soil, his belly pressed against the damp grass, and he remained motionless.
His heart was pounding so hard it felt like it was going to burst out of his small chest; every hair on his head stood on end, his tail dragged stiffly behind him, and he didn't even dare to breathe.
That was the sound of something rushing past from above, the wind whistling through the air, sounding incredibly fast. I wonder if someone had spotted him running away and was chasing after him.
Peter's small, red eyes darted slightly, barely managing to catch a glimpse of a corner of the sky out of the corner of his eye.
He saw a purple shadow.
The shadow hovered in mid-air, the hem of its long robe gently lifted by the night breeze, its silver-white beard gleaming coldly in the moonlight, and its blue eyes behind Half-moon Spectacles scanning the area below.
It was Dumbledore!
Peter's heart skipped a beat. He recognized him instantly; it was safe to say that no one in the entire Wizarding World was unfamiliar with that figure.
However, as far as he knew, the edge of the Forbidden Forest was not within the Marauder's Map's area.
That map only covered Hogwarts Castle itself, including the castle walls, corridors, staircases, secret passages, and everything inside the castle's outer walls.
But the Forbidden Forest Forbidden Forest not included, nor is this moonlit grassy slope on its edge.
Peter's mind raced; his mouse brain had merged with his wizard brain, both operating simultaneously within his small body.
As long as he doesn't make any sudden movements, Dumbledore won't be able to find him.
It's not surprising to see a mouse lying in the grass at the edge of the Forbidden Forest; what kind of creatures doesn't live in the Forbidden Forest?
But then he thought of something else.
I'm being too deliberate by remaining completely still.
A real mouse doesn't lie motionless on the ground like a stone; that would actually make any observer feel something is amiss.
He had to move, like an ordinary mouse burrowing in the grass, occasionally stopping to Niffler the ground, and occasionally scratching the mud with his front paws.
Peter took a deep breath, freeing himself from that stiff posture.
Then he started to move. First, he reached forward with one of his front paws and rummaged through the grass roots, as if looking for something to eat.
Then he shifted his body, turning half a circle to the side, his nose twitching as if trying to discern the scent of the soil.
His movements appeared as casual as possible, but every nerve in his body was fixed on the figure in the sky.
Dumbledore hovered in mid-air, looking down at the ground below, as if searching for something.
His expression was rather unpleasant.
Just minutes before, he was standing at the corner of the corridor, holding up the newly activated Marauder's Map, his gaze fixed on the almost overlapping small print next to Ronald Weasley's name.
Peter Pettigrew.
His first thought was that someone with the same name as Peter had broken into the Gryffindor Tower and then impersonated Ron using Polyjuice Potion.
That person may have used Polyjuice Potion to transform into Ron's appearance, while the real Ron is hidden somewhere, or is carried around by someone in some way.
This also explains why the two names are right next to each other on the map, almost overlapping.
Although Polyjuice Potion can change a person's appearance, the Marauder's Map reads the name. Even if a person appears as Ron, his real name will still be displayed on the map.
If the real Ron is nearby, his real name will also appear on the map, and the two names will overlap.
Dumbledore didn't hesitate. He folded the map, put it in his pocket, and headed straight for the Gryffindor Tower.
He walked quickly, and the portraits in the corridor awoke from their slumber, their eyes wide as they watched the old principal stride briskly through the corridor in the dead of night.
When he entered the Gryffindor ' dormitory, it was quiet, with only a few even breaths.
Dumbledore walked to Ron's bedside and gently patted his shoulder.
Ron rolled over, mumbled something, and then slowly opened his eyes.
He nearly jumped out of bed when he saw Dumbledore standing in front of him, his expression instantly changing from drowsy to astonished.
" Headmaster Dumbledore? What brings you here—"
" Mr. Weasley, I'm sorry to bother you." Dumbledore's voice was soft, but his tone was less relaxed than usual. "I need to ask you a few questions."
Ron sat on the bed, his eyes not fully open, his hair a mess plastered to his forehead.
Dumbledore looked at his face, his blue eyes silently watching Ron in the darkness, and then subtly cast a shallow Legilimency.
He did it so lightly that Ron didn't feel anything amiss at all.
The boy's mind was still foggy from being woken up, and his recent memories were fragmented: Potions Class, Magic Cards, playing chess with Harry in the common room...
There were no signs of any external interference.
This person is Ron himself.
Dumbledore's eyebrows twitched slightly, and just as he was wondering, Ron's gaze fell on the edge of his bed.
There were some fine hairs scattered on it, some yellowish-brown and some gray.
Ron looked down for a moment, as if he had just been woken up and hadn't quite reacted yet, then suddenly looked up.
" Scabbers!" he called out, his voice ringing out loudly in the quiet dormitory.
He lifted the covers and started rummaging through the room, feeling under the pillow and then probing into the folds of the sheets.
" Scabbers! Where are you?"
The mouse didn't crawl out from some corner as he had imagined, but instead curled up in his palm.
Ron searched the entire bed, then pulled the covers aside to look under the bed, but found nothing.
" Scabbers!" he called out again, this time with a hint of urgency in his voice.
Dumbledore frowned and asked, " Mr. Weasley, who is Scabbers?"
Ron looked up, his expression shifting from anxiety to a mixture of anger and sadness.
"It was my mouse." His voice was strained. "It must have been eaten by Hermione's cat."
He pointed to the fine hairs along the edge of the bed, his voice becoming fast and heavy:
"Look, these are all cat and mouse hairs. That cat has been staring at Scabbers ever since the first day of school, wanting to eat it. Scabbers's toes are broken, and it still bullies it like this—"
Dumbledore had been pondering the overlapping name, but upon hearing Ron's words, his gaze snapped back to the present.
"What did you say?"
Ron was startled, thinking Dumbledore hadn't heard him, so he repeated, " Hermione's cat, Crookshanks, it's been trying to eat—"
"No, not that." Dumbledore interrupted him, his voice more focused than before. "You just said something about your mouse- Scabbers toes?"
Ron paused, then blinked. "It's broken... It was like this when Percy gave it to me."
Dumbledore was silent for two seconds.
"Did your brother give you the Scabbers?"
"Yes, Percy started raising it when he was in first grade." Ron shrugged, as if he were talking about something very ordinary.
"Later, when he became Prefect, my parents bought him an owl, and he gave me Scabbers."
How long did it live?
Ron scratched his head, looking somewhat bewildered. "I don't know, it was there when Percy was in first grade, so it must have been there for many years."