Chapter 126: Breeding Scabbers
Wednesday knew perfectly well that Flint was deliberately targeting her—he hadn't even given her a chance to try out. So she decided to become Slytherin's Beater in her own way.
"What's wrong?" Russell frowned. Something about Wednesday felt… off.
"Didn't make the team? It's fine. We can try again next year," he said, trying to comfort her.
"Don't worry," Wednesday replied, a faint smile curling at the corner of her lips. "You'll see me on the pitch very soon."
Russell's heart skipped uneasily. He was worried she might resort to her usual methods again, so he spoke carefully.
"You remember what I told you last time, right? If you get caught, then—"
"I'm disappointed in you," Wednesday said as she stood up. "As the saying goes—after parting for a time, one should look at a person anew."
She grabbed her broom, clearly preparing to leave.
"Where are you going?" Russell asked quickly.
"The Room of Requirement. I'm going to practice Beater techniques. Will you come help me?"
"Of course," Russell exhaled in relief and hurried after her.
---
Later in the Potions Room (provided by Snape):
Wiping the sweat from his forehead, Russell looked at the potion before him and smiled.
The simplified Transformation Potion was finally nearing completion. Success or failure would be decided tomorrow.
"You know, Wednesday," Hermione said indignantly as she sat down beside her, "he clearly broke school rules, yet Professor McGonagall personally approved his joining the Quidditch team. That's completely inappropriate."
"Even if there's no punishment, he shouldn't be rewarded."
Russell thought Hermione had a point. Unfortunately, Professor McGonagall had her own biases—aside from Transfiguration, her greatest passion was Quidditch. Making an exception for it wasn't exactly surprising.
"They'll understand once they suffer for it," Hermione muttered when Wednesday didn't respond, then dropped the subject.
Wednesday didn't understand Hermione's persistence. She had already warned her—don't meddle in everything. Hermione had clearly tasted the benefits of letting go before, yet for some reason, she hadn't held onto that lesson.
---
"Russell, I didn't expect you to say you weren't interested in Quidditch, then secretly buy a Nimbus 2000," Cedric said enviously.
"You have to let me try it—I've never ridden one before."
"Cedric," Russell said seriously, "have you ever heard the saying: it's easy to go from frugality to luxury, but hard to go back?"
"You mean if I ride a Nimbus 2000, I won't be satisfied with my old broom anymore?" Cedric thought about it—and nodded.
"Next year, I'm definitely buying a broom even better than the Nimbus 2000," Cedric declared confidently.
He wasn't bluffing. Thanks to the Dark Moon Circus, he'd earned quite a few Galleons already.
He could afford a Nimbus now—but a new model would be released next year. Buy new, not old. Besides, his current broom was only one generation behind.
He trusted his skills to make up the difference.
---
On Saturday night, Russell attended his first Potions Club meeting. The atmosphere was much like the Transfiguration Club—everyone shared their brewing techniques and insights.
Most members were from Ravenclaw, followed by Slytherin, then Hufflepuff.
There wasn't a single Gryffindor.
Snape examined Russell's simplified Transformation Potion. He didn't understand its purpose and dismissed it as a waste of ingredients—but the sheer complexity of the process still earned Russell a second look.
Even simplified, it wasn't much easier than Polyjuice Potion.
To Russell's surprise, many students were interested in it. He traded all his remaining stock for other potions—including an improved Love Potion from a Slytherin student.
Although most Slytherins disliked Russell, the "little snakes" in Potions Club were exceptions. They understood his value and were more than willing to befriend him.
After all, classmates from a specialized club were extremely valuable connections after graduation.
---
After returning from the club, Russell toyed with the potion vial in his hand. The pale pink liquid flowed gently inside the glass, and a smile crept onto his face.
"Ron," he said cheerfully, "I need to borrow Scabbers for a bit."
"It's time for breeding."
"This is way too weird," Hermione said flatly, her entire face screaming rejection. "Who breeds rats at school?!"
Harry was actually quite interested, but remembering that he still had Quidditch practice, he regretfully gave up the idea of going along to watch.
Russell headed to the classroom where he had brewed potions earlier, preparing to officiate Scabbers' "wedding" there.
He carefully placed Scabbers into a cage and asked Professor Flitwick to layer it with multiple Sticking Charms and Reinforcement Charms.
He wasn't sure whether they would work on an Animagus, but at the very least, it added another layer of security.
From beneath the table, Russell pulled out another cage containing more than a dozen rats.
Scabbers was a ticking time bomb—no one knew when it might explode. As for Quirrell, Russell wasn't too worried. With Dumbledore watching him, and Voldemort still needing the Philosopher's Stone, Quirrell would keep up the act for now.
That meant Russell had to hurry and squeeze every last drop out of Quirrell's magical knowledge.
These rats had all been caught by Hagrid at Russell's request—both male and female. Russell doubted Scabbers would be picky.
Russell couldn't help but admire the Slytherin who had improved the Love Potion. The modification was brilliant in its simplicity: it altered the potion's effect so that it worked not on humans, but on animals instead—and with an extremely potent aphrodisiac effect.
If the dragon reserves in Romania ever learned of its existence, they'd pay an absurd price for it.
This invention could practically save endangered magical creatures. Russell honestly felt that awarding its creator a First Class Order of Merlin wouldn't be excessive.
Then again, on second thought, if this potion were ever sold publicly, the Society for the Protection of Magical Creatures would probably have him thrown straight into Azkaban.
Russell didn't dare grab Scabbers directly—he was worried about getting bitten, and who knew whether a human-turned-rat might carry the plague.
After dripping a few drops of the potion into Scabbers' mouth, he placed him back into the cage.
Scabbers' eyes immediately turned glassy as he began running circles inside the cage.
"Don't rush, don't rush," Russell chuckled softly. "Your enjoyment is coming very soon."
With that, he dumped all the rats into the cage.
The moment Scabbers saw them, he pounced. Frantic movement followed, accompanied by endless squeaking and shrill cries.
"Too brutal," Russell shook his head as he watched the rats—male or female, he couldn't even tell—being mercilessly tormented.
After about an hour, Scabbers finally collapsed from exhaustion. The haze in his eyes faded, and as realization dawned, he began frantically jumping around the cage.
His tiny eyes glared venomously at Russell as he squeaked furiously, cursing with astonishing filth.
"Don't be so anxious, Peter," Russell said with a gentle smile.
The moment he heard that name, Scabbers froze. The rage vanished, replaced by sheer terror.
He had no idea when his identity had been exposed.
He tried to transform back into human form—but—
"There's still plenty of time. Enjoy yourself."
With those words, Russell splashed the remaining Love Potion all over the cage.
The rats that had already collapsed suddenly struggled back to their feet, their eyes once again clouded with unnatural desire as they turned toward Peter.
"Squeee—!"
Russell watched the horrific scene inside the cage with icy indifference.
Peter tried to resist the potion through sheer willpower—but he overestimated himself. If his will had ever been that strong, he wouldn't have defected to Voldemort in the first place.
When it was finally over, Russell stood up. Most of the rats inside were already dead.
He wondered whether an Animagus-turned-rat could reproduce with real rats, or if there was some kind of reproductive barrier. After handing Scabbers over to Dumbledore, he planned to see whether any female rats could still be saved.
Who knew—this discovery might even earn him another Order of Merlin.
He had intended to clean out the cage, but Professor Flitwick's Sticking Charms made that impossible.
Worried that opening it might let Scabbers escape, Russell simply picked up the cage and swaggered straight toward Dumbledore's office.
"Russell, what are you doing?" the Weasley twins asked curiously as they passed him in the corridor.
"Oh, nothing much," he replied lightly. "Just arranged a breeding session for Scabbers."
"Oh Merlin—don't tell me you killed him," George blurted out. "Ron would cry himself to sleep."
"It's not that dramatic," Russell chuckled. "Though from today onward, Scabbers probably won't be Ron's pet anymore."
"What's wrong with him today?" Fred muttered. "Doesn't he seem… unusually cheerful?"
---
"Password," the stone gargoyle guarding the Headmaster's office demanded dutifully.
Russell remembered that Dumbledore liked using sweets as passwords, so he decided to guess.
"Cockroach Cluster?"
"Lemon Sherbet?"
"Fizzing Whizzbees?"
He tried several, all unsuccessfully.
Finally, running out of ideas, he said, "Funnel cake."
To his surprise—
"Correct."
The gargoyle hopped aside, revealing the staircase behind it.
Russell walked in with practiced ease—but to his surprise, Dumbledore wasn't inside.
Fawkes looked old now, though not yet ready to burst into flame. He merely glanced at Russell before lowering his head again to nap.
"Well, well," sneered former Headmaster Black from his portrait on the wall. "How dare you bring such filthy rubbish into the Headmaster's office?"
"You're absolutely right," Russell said calmly as he walked closer, lifting the cage. "This is something filthy."