Author's Note: Hi guys, I know you are waiting for a new chapter in Lost in the Marauder's Time but I haven't gotten any ideas for it! If you know any, pleas email me! Thanks. This is a re-write of My Fault. Read and review! Thanks!
Feelings of angst clouded my mind and swept over me as I sat down in my chair in front of my fireplace. Something didn't seem right on this anxious, yet somewhat perfect Halloween night. Outside, the air was crisp and new but no children were present. No one would be out celebrating at a time like this. The trees in my backyard brushed violently against my window, as if they were protesting to my unusual silence on such a night. They're gonna be okay. They're gonna be fine.
I shrugged off the feelings of worry and glanced outside my window to see the midnight clouds pass over the bright, shining half-moon. With my eyes, I followed the moonlight to my table where a photograph of the Potters lay. Ever so tenderly and cautiously, I picked it up thinking that it was going to shrivel up and disappear forever. The green and red frame that bordered the picture suggested a Christmas event and my fingers squeaked over the glass as I gazed at the picture. A hint of a smile came over my face as I watched a vivacious woman with vibrant green eyes attempt to dance with a goofy, yet suave man with jet-black hair. They waved to me as Lily placed her hands on her growing stomach. I remembered Lily telling me that Harry was seven months along when this picture was taken. My fingers squeaked on the glass when I ran over their faces, puzzled with confusion. I shuddered. The icy cold shiver washed through me and I instantly felt like I was drowning in a pool of freezing water.
Getting up from my chair, I started to pace around my room. Clutching the frame in my hands, a string of thoughts and doubts swirled through my head. Peter is my friend. I can trust Peter. Trust. That was what you needed to get through these days. Without trust, there was no way in hell you could survive in this world. In this place. In this hell. I passed my desk and peered through the collection of newspapers of recent deaths. Deaths about the McKinnons, the Bones, the Prewetts . . . the articles went on. The smell of Death was looming everywhere and I was praying that it would not surround the Potters' cottage tonight. Sitting down again, I still held the photo within my hands. Voldemort would never suspect Peter . . . Voldemort would come after me. The Potters are safe . . . James is safe . . . Lily is safe . . . Harry is safe . . .
I was fidgeting a lot more than usual. I stood up again for the second time that night and began pacing again, the photo still lodged in my grasp. I kept telling myself. Peter would never betray us. He's our friend. He would never betray us. He loves us. That's why I chose him to be the new Secret-Keeper. I tried to get rid of the doubts and the suspicions that Peter portrayed over the past few weeks. I often contemplated my decision on changing the Potters' Secret-Keeper from me to Pete at the last minute. I always wondered if it was the right choice to begin with. Ever since then . . . Peter had been more distant. More quieter. More secretive. More everything since the war began. Lily's voice echoed through my head . . . Nothing will go wrong. Everything will work out. We can trust Peter.
Those reassurances died quickly. All of a sudden, the ground shook faintly and I automatically scanned the skies for the worst color imaginable. A sick, lurking feeling emerged as I noticed the blazing green light being emitted from Godric's Hollow...the Potter's cottage. Their fates loomed in my thoughts as I dropped the picture frame. The shattering of the glass barely reached my ears as I stared in shock at the endless amount of green that scattered the sky. Clenching my fists, I sprinted out of the house to my motorbike, leaving the cracked picture behind.
I furiously turned on the engine and speeded away towards Godric's Hollow. I now knew that Peter was not on our side, but working with the Dark Lord. Fueled with rage, flashes of anger and betrayal flowed through me as I struggled to cope with the fact that Peter had conspired against us all along and I, who had long suspected and questioned Peter's loyalty to his 'friends', didn't put an end to it. I raced even more quickly to the Potter's house until I stopped abruptly in midair at the sight I saw.
"Bloody hell."