They stood together, circling the short, trembling hooded figure; their expressions ranged between skeptical and bored, and Bellatrix’s seemed to be a combination of both, coupled with thinly veiled contempt.

“Well, Pettigrew?” Demanded Rodolphus, impatience tainting his composed tone.

As if on cue, the younger boy shut his eyes and began to shrink into himself. It happened faster than Rodolphus would have thought possible, and the large gray rat squeaked on the spot Peter Pettigrew had last stood.

“Impressive,” Malfoy allowed after a moment of heavy silence.

“Disgusting,” Bellatrix hissed, and gripped Rodolphus’ arm tightly. “I refuse, Rodolphus.”

He smiled.