Peter's Revenge
Peter marched through the woods, having finally gotten away from Sirius. It was dusk, and the trees were becoming ghostly, their autumn colours graying to the charcoal and silver of night. Peter paid his surroundings no heed.
Instead, his thoughts were on why he was about to betray his oldest friends. Friends? He snorted at the thought as he kicked through a pile of leaves. Deluded fools. Pawns! Peter was no pawn, or rather, he had reached the end of the chessboard and finally had become an important piece in play. Dumbledore would be checked at last.
Dumbledore is too arrogant to know it, of course. A slight sneer crossed Peter's face without his knowledge, and his hand gently touched the top of his head equally unconsciously. There was no longer a bump to feel, but Peter's life had completely changed because an ordinary-seeming bump had once been there.
Peter had gotten the bump during a long monologue from Dumbledore in the Headmaster's office. 'Tutoring sessions' were quite important to the old coot for a variety of reasons. Firstly, the office itself was a suitably magnificent setting for the World's Greatest Wizard. Brilliant light shone through the tall Gothic windows onto the dark polished floor, the carved and gilded cabinets, and the many shiny mechanical gizmos of Dumbledore's collection. Each device was actually the transformed body of someone who had proved inconvenient to the Dark Lord: that is to say, Dumbledore himself.
This leads to the second reason for 'tutoring.' The old coot had to boast; he simply could not bear to withhold his genius from lesser mortals. He loved to shock his students with the truth: that many victims were all around them (implying that the students could join them at any moment), that Dumbledore held the Elder Wand (implying that he was magically unbeatable), and that there had been no epic duel against Grindelwald (implying that Dumbledore could get away with anything). Grindelwald had let himself be put in prison for the 'Greater Good' of his lover's 'benevolent' rule over the Wizarding World. Dumbledore loved to laugh about this most of all. He then Obliviated his audience.
Of course, many things can be hidden by a good Obliviation: in the interest of killing two birds with one stone, Dumbledore buggered the boys while 'tutoring.' Thus came to be the bump on Peter's head.
One day in Peter's seventh year, Dumbledore was leaning back in his chair, monologue-ing away as Peter knelt on all fours, naked in the brilliant light, staring at the dark polished floor, trying not to cry as his head occasionally hit the drawers of the huge carved and gilded Headmaster's Desk. As the Headmaster really preferred firsties and second-years, Peter was older than the usual 'tutored' student, but, he always cried. Peter's tears were the greatest aphrodisiac known to the Dark Lord; seeing no tears on the floor, he gave a particularly vicious thrust, knocking Peter's head hard enough to shake the whole massive desk.
Peter did cry then, nearly blacking out, and his head started bleeding as the Dark Lord finished up. Dumbledore then Scourgified them both and fastened his robes; Peter unsteadily attempted to dress as the Dark Lord continued to monologue. It seemed almost that the boasting were more important than the buggering to Dumbledore; it certainly was to Peter, who had now heard the whole of his Headmaster's enormities as Dumbledore concluded with a smirking 'Obliviate!'
An Obliviation by the Elder Wand should be perfect, so Dumbledore, not paying attention to Peter's twitching symptoms and still-bleeding head, simply assumed it to be so. Peter's whirling eyes slowly returned his vision into focus as his fingers regained the ability to button his clothes. He saw the Dark Lord's usual twinkle, and was offered a Lemon Drop, which Peter took even though he knew that they were laced with a potion to make the sucker highly suggestible. He palmed it rather than actually pop it into his mouth. Realising that he still remembered the whole afternoon, he avoided looking back into the Headmaster's eyes and was told to return to his dormitory. Peter staggered out as quickly as possible, not suffering from Obliviation, but suffering rather from both shock and brain damage from repeated blows to the head.
As Peter into wobbled the Gryffindor Common Room, blood dripping down his face, the warmth of the roaring fire and the red and gold tapestries failed for the first time to comfort him. They seemed somehow unreal. He eagerly looked for his friends, his Marauder brothers, for the strength to unburden himself. They sat by the fire, and, upon seeing Peter, burst into howls of laughter.
'Oi, Pete, fell down the stairs again?' Sirius, once of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, but now dependent on Hogwarts' charity, shook his head in mocking disbelief.
'Pete, Pete, what are we going to do with you?' chortled James, the Head Boy.
Remus (Gryffindor Prefect) sighed in concern. 'This happens at least once a month. Are you sure the Slytherins aren't hexing you? Maybe we should talk to Dumbledore for you.'
Ordinary Peter stopped and stared. Once a month? And they laugh? He caught the glint of their shiny badges, given to them by Dumbledore, and thought of the gizmos around the Word's Greatest Wizard. Peter felt ice down his back as he realized for the fist time that the Marauders were all Dumbledore's pets. Clearly, saying anything about the truth would be totally disbelieved, and would only cause him to become an outcast. Like Severus Snape. Severus must not be able to be Obliviated, either. I need to find some way to talk to him without being seen…
The woods had become as dark as Peter's thoughts as he reached a clearing outside Godric's Hollow. All the red and gold was gone, replaced by black and white. Severus waited at the right hand of another of Dumbledore's victims, the most powerful of them all. Peter was puzzled as he thought he saw a flash of pain cross Severus's face; Peter knelt before the wizard who would rid the world of Albus Dumbledore.
'Welcome, Secret Keeper.' Voldemort smiled. 'Where is the prophesied Child? Where can I find the Potters?'
Peter smiled in return and began to speak.