Halloween, 1981:

The crack of apparition echoed through the glen as James Potter stepped out of thin air. The purposeful nature of his stride and the steely glint in his eyes left no question as to why he was there. James Potter had come to kill.

His steps were quick and reaching, as he moved across the damp ground. Almost running, he grew closer to the ramshackle home and its boundaries. The wards fizzed and crackled as he walked through them, recognizing his malicious intent, but keyed to his person already. It seemed the magic was fighting itself over whether or not James should be granted passage. James paid them no mind.

In what seemed like no time at all to him in his rage, but had in reality taken almost five full minutes, he had moved through the syrupy ward boundaries and arrived at the front door. He raised his fist and pounded, drawing his wand with the other hand.

"WORMTAIL!" James snarled. "COME OUT, YOU TRAITOR!" He listened carefully and heard the telltale scuttling of Peter's noisy panic. "Bombarda!" he incanted, and the door was blasted off its hinges, flying inward as if struck by a cannonball. "I know you're here, you bastard!" James yelled into the sitting room.

"James!" Peter gasped. "I-I know what you must be t-thinking, but y-you've got to l-listen to me!" He stammered.

"You killed them, Peter." James said coldly, stepping into the room. "They're dead. And it's because of you. You betrayed them. You RAT!" He seethed. "Depulso!"

The banishing curse blasted Peter into the back wall, and he tasted blood. His vision flickered, blackness creeping in at the edges and threatening to push him into unconsciousness. But Peter knew that if he let that happen, he'd wake up in Azkaban. Or he might not wake up at all. He gulped.

"J-James…" Peter tried again, "Please… listen… it's—it's not what you think."

"You sold Lily and Harry to Voldemort, Peter." James spat, although the rage was dying in his eyes. Maybe it was seeing a man he once called friend lying in a heap because of his own spell, or maybe even the thought of his wife and son had pushed the thought of murder out of his head. "Nothing you can say will change that."

"T-they're alive." Peter choked out. It was all he managed before the darkness completely swept over him, and he passed out.

Three years earlier, Halloween 1978:

The scene swam to the forefront of Peter's mind.

"You're serious about this, are you?" Peter asked skeptically.

"I swear," Sirius nodded, "On my honor, Wormy, I made out with Marlene at her own wedding."

"He's lying," James rolled his eyes exasperatedly, "Honestly, Pete, you'll fall for anything. It's a wonder you're not broke with all the scam artists out there selling phony protections from Voldemort."

Peter fingered his amulet nervously. "What do you mean, 'phony' protections?"

Sirius let out a barking laugh. "Don't tell me you bought one!" He snagged the piece of metal from Wormtail's neck. "And one of Dung's too! Wormy, even you've gotta know that you can't trust anything from that man! You're so dense!"

And they laughed. James and Sirius. They laughed at him. It was that memory that Peter used when he had to go through his Death Eater initiation that cold night on October 31, 1978. Lucius Malfoy had come to him and told him that there was a spot open, and all he needed to do to prove his loyalty to the Dark Lord was to cast an unforgiveable of his choice on a person of their choice. So, when presented with Marlene McKinnon on that fateful night, Peter conjured up the worst memory he had of her. The time his best friends had laughed at him. It didn't have anything to do with her, really, but that didn't matter. The Cruciatus Curse left his wand and it felt perfect. It felt right. He was in control, for the first time ever. Malfoy actually had to tell him to stop. They couldn't risk her going insane yet, she still had information on the Order. Information that Peter might not have.

After he released the curse, Peter felt the biggest wave of guilt and fear crash into him. He'd never felt more disgusted in his life. He'd just tortured a woman. More than that, he'd tortured his friend. And he had to be made to stop.

Peter nodded along to Malfoy's words after that. He made the occasional sound of agreement, and kept his eyes lowered to Malfoy's feet, being sure to show respect. But that was all reflex. His entire mind was occupied with self-loathing, and fear. For the first time in months, ever since Malfoy had first approached him with the blackmail that led him to where he currently stood, it was a different fear. It wasn't fear of what would happen to him, but a fear of what was happening to him. There was something seriously wrong.

Vaguely Peter registered that he was to report to Malfoy once a month, and have no contact with any other Death Eaters, and especially have no contact with the Master, who was far too important for someone like him. It might have been that that changed his mind. The fact that even here, on the side of power, on the side of selfishness, he didn't matter. On the side where Peter had been promised everything he could have ever wanted, even in his darkest daydreams, he had nothing, and he meant nothing.

Peter Pettigrew decided on that night, October 31, 1978, the night that he joined the Death Eaters and received his mark, that he would work against them from the inside.

November 7, 1978:

A week had passed since that night, and Peter had finally decided what to do. The only thing he was sure of was that he wanted to oppose what the Death Eaters were doing. Sure, he was in the Order of the Phoenix, but with the Dark Lord knowing all their plans, it was pretty useless. He had to turn the tables. It was entirely his fault they were losing anyway. Well, his and Marlene's, but that was sort of his fault too.

After days of thinking, he had narrowed it down to either telling James, or telling Dumbledore. Dumbledore would use him, and James would help him. But did Peter want to be helped? After all he had done… He still couldn't forget the look on Marlene's face before he tortured her. It would haunt him forever. She had pleaded with him, and he had tortured her. No. He couldn't tell James. James would want to help him, and Peter didn't deserve help. He had given up that right the second he had uttered that curse. Peter was a tool now. A weapon to be used against the Dark Lord.

So, six days and five hours after his induction into Voldemort's ranks, Peter went to go see the Headmaster.

He appeared in Hogsmeade with a quiet pop. Peter was never particularly good in school, but apparition was always a strong point for him. He was the first Marauder to get it down, and the only one to this day that could apparate quietly. The more air you took with you when you disapparated, the louder the crack, and Peter was always very precise.

He took a moment to gather himself and look around. If Malfoy had taught him one thing, it was to be wary of his surroundings. He was fairly certain nobody was watching him, but regardless, he went into the Hog's Head, and occupied a bathroom stall before changing into his rat form and scurrying away. As Wormtail, Peter made it all the way to the Honeydukes undetected, and hurried down into the secret passageway towards Hogwarts.

Coming out at the One-Eyed Witch Statue, Peter transformed back into a human, confident that no Death Eaters would be at Hogwarts on a random Tuesday morning at 5 AM. Closing the passage behind him, Peter started making his way toward the Headmaster's office. Twenty-five minutes later, he came face to face with Dumbledore's gargoyle. He smiled. Time for his favorite game from his school days.

"Pumpkin Pasties?" he guessed. Nothing. "Bertie Botts? Chocolate Frogs? Droobles'? Blood Lollipops? Gummi-Wands?" It took him about 3 more minutes before arriving at, "Mars Bars" to open the stairway. Peter grinned. It did usually turn out to be Muggle.

Arriving at Dumbledore's door, he paused. This was it. No turning back from this course. The Dark Lord would find out. And when he did, he would certainly kill him. James and Sirius and Remus would find out. They would hate him. He would be alone again. It would be so easy to turn around, sneak back out into Hogsmeade, and pretend this never happened. He could continue to serve Voldemort. He could have whatever he wanted. He could do whatever he pleased.

Marlene's face flashed in front of his eyes again. He knocked.

As it turned out, Dumbledore was a heavy sleeper. It took almost five minutes of repeated banging on the Headmaster's door before he came to answer. What really interested Peter was that he never seemed to lose his nerve. Every one of those 300 seconds, he could in fact feel his resolve strengthening.

When Albus finally opened the door, he looked more ancient and burdened than ever. The ongoing war was obviously taking a toll on the old man that he didn't let on about in his professional life.

"Mr. Pettigrew," He intoned, as if confused, "How can I help you so early in the morning?"

"I'm sorry for the intrusion, Headmaster," Peter said, blatantly intruding past Albus into his office. "I have some information for you."

"Knowledge, my boy, is of course always welcome." Dumbledore muttered sleepily.

"I can give you information on Voldemort." Peter said, looking intently at the old man, as if daring him to doubt him.

It was as if Dumbledore was suddenly injected with two dozen Pepper-Up Potions. His advanced age seemed to vanish in a second as the gaze and stance of a General replaced his normal disguise of the kindly old man. He moved with purpose as he followed Peter into the office, sinking into a chair opposite him. The normal twinkle was gone, and now eyes reflecting only pure determination glared at Peter underneath his wrinkled brow. This was certainly a man who would do anything to defeat Voldemort. The perfect person to come to, Peter thought, for me to be of use.

"Anything you can tell me, my boy, I'm willing to hear." Dumbledore said.

Peter took a deep breath. Now or never. "I-I need to tell you something," Peter muttered, "I... I met with Malfoy. About... About joining Him."

Dumbledore's eyebrows seemed to vanish into his hairline. He fingered the wand at his hip as he asked his next question.

"And why would you come to me with such information?" He asked cautiously.

"Because... because I can't do it." Peter whispered into his hands, holding his face and shaking slightly. "I can't keep being the person they expect me to be. I can't do it ever again. I won't..."

Dumbledore observed the man in front of him, shivering, holding his head in his hands, obviously in extreme distress. He felt an odd mixture of pity and caution, unsure if he could trust Pettigrew after his confession, yet feeling an odd sort of kinship with him. Albus himself knew the temptation that power could hold over the weak-minded, and Pettigrew had never been described as a strong minded individual. He stayed silent, waiting for Peter to compoe himself and continue.

"Marlene... Mar-Marlene... It was me. It was my fault... the McKinnons, Dorcas Meadowes, the twins' parents... It was me..." Albus watched as the young man broke down in his office. As each of those faces flashed past his eyes, Albus heard his own promise to them that he would do his best to keep them safe, and ruthlessly pushed down the raging feeling of vengeance that roared in his chest. Everything had fallen into place. The strangely high rate of failure on recent missions, the amount of people being captured instead of killed, and the growing unease among the Order that there might be a traitor. He kept a straight face as the man who betrayed everything Albus stood for confessed in front of him.

"Peter," Albus began, struggling to hold down the fury he felt inside, "Tell my why. Why did you betray your friends?"

Peter remained silent for a short while. To both him and Albus, it seemed to be ages, though the pause was likely less than a minute.

"I never felt important." He whispered at last. "The Dark Lord promised me a seat in his Inner Circle for information on the Order. i would've been someone. I would've been more than... than boring old sidekick, Peter Pettigrew."

Albus felt sick. He wanted to kill the sniveling man in front of him. He could fell the Elder wand calling for blood. He wanted so badly to give in to the rage and end this miserable rat's existence. But he forced himself to do otherwise.

"You said you could give me information on Voldemort." Dumbledore said, looking anywhere but Peter. He couldn't bring himself to look into Peter's eyes. He couldn't bring himself to look into Peter's mind and understand the the atrocities of the betrayals he'd committed.

"I can," Peter mumbled, "I will." His voice was growing stronger. "A few days ago, I joined Voldemort's ranks forever."

Albus's eyes flashed dangerously. He had heard enough rumors of what such an initiation entailed. If Peter had actually gone through with such a thing...

Peter pulled back his sleeve to reveal his new Dark Mark. It still burned, as if afflicted by Fiendfyre, forever crawling along his skin, causing the most intense pain that he had gone numb in that spot forever. He knew that should the Dark Lord's magic be removed from the tattoo, the pain would drive him insane. "This is my Mark," Peter said unnecessarily. "I... I tortured Marlene for it."

Then he was on his back. Albus was on his feet, a wand in Peter's face, and the old man's face was the most livid expression of hatred and pain. Peter could tell he would be unable to move if he tried.

"WHY?!" Dumbledore yelled, spit flying from his mouth, and his eyes burning holes into Peter's. This was the man that Voldemort was afraid of. This was the Leader of the Light. "YOU ANSWER ME, PETTIGREW. YOU WERE HER FRIEND." He seemed to lose some of his fire now. "You were her friend." He said again, as if questioning it.

Peter stared down the wand, strangely accepting of his current predicament. If Dumbledore killed him, he thought, he would have no regrets. At least Marlene and Adam and Dorcas and Veritas and Horus would have their revenge on him. And he deserved it.

"If you'll let me, Professor," He said, licking his lips, "I'd like to give you all the information I have before you kill me."

Albus rocked back on his heels. He had no idea what to do, for what was maybe the fourth time in his life. He stepped back, not lowering his wand. He nodded slowly.

Peter nodded and sat up slowly, remaining on the floor. "About a week ago, I met with Lucius Malfoy. He... proctored... my final test to join the Dark Lord's ranks. Marlene... I..."

Albus nodded. "I know what you did. I can live without hearing the details of the poor girl's suffering. Is she alive?"

Peter nodded. "Malfoy... stopped me. HE took her away. To be questioned. Halloween night."

Albus's mind whirled. "We could still get to her. Where are they?"

Peter shook his head. "I don't know." Dumbledore's wand advanced on his face again. "I really don't," Peter met his eyes, "I'm nowhere near high enough in the ranks to know where the Dark Lord spends his time. Believe me when I say that Marlene is a lot of the reason I'm here. I would help if I could." He finished sadly.

"What can you give me?" Dumbledore demanded.

"Names, and he location that I've been ordered to next report to." Peter responded immediately.

Dumbledore nodded thoughtfully, slowly lowering his wand arm. "If that's all, then you're barely worth keeping alive." He called over his shoulder.

Peter flinched. "I-I'll give my life, if that's what you want. Marlene deserves it."

Albus sat behind his ornate desk, drawing comfort and calm from the ancient seat of power that Headmasters over the ages had occupied. He looked behind him at some of portraits of leaders past for guidance. Most were fairly useless, never having to make a serious decision in their life, but others were often a source of great advice and assistance. Torres Lionheart, the first Headmaster of Hogwarts and Godric Gryffindor's grandson was usually helpful in matters of the Light. Gaius Kilkenny was always quick to offer his opinion on how he would handle current events, being famous for dispatching the Dark Lord of his own time. Julius Cass could never keep his painted mouth shut when it came to his favorite method of execution for traitors, which of course applied to anyone from Pettigrew to first years in detention.

After several minutes of contemplation, Albus smiled. It was the sort of devious smile that would make the Grinch jealous, Peter thought.

"Well, Peter, you'll be happy to know I won't take your life for your betrayal. Instead, you'll be given a sentence."

Peter gulped. It may have been exactly the reason he came to Albus in the first place, but he was still nervous about the old man's decision.

"You'll be staying a Death Eater, you'll be staying in Voldemort's Inner Circle, and you are going to spy for me until the day you are found out."