A/N—Disclaimer: I own nothing. Harry Potter belongs to J.K Rowling and to Warner Bros. Nothing recognizable belongs to me.

Note: I've wanted to write a time travel fanfiction since I first started reading them about a year ago. Finally I've decided to take the plunge. Hopefully I can contribute something fresh and original to the pool, but I'd like to give a huge thank you to each and every time travel writer I've read—too many to count; all have been enjoyable fics and have helped me to get an idea of what it takes to write a fic like that.

Note 2: This piece will heavily feature Peter Pettigrew. I feel a large amount of pity for him, and I would like to explore his role in the Marauders. This piece will also explore the parallels between the Trio and the Marauders, especially the similarity of character roles, such as the Harry/James, Ron/Sirius, Remus/Hermione similarities, and the question of where Peter may fall in those similarities.

Summary: When Peter Pettigrew's wand snaps in the Shrieking Shack, Harry (along with Hermione, Ron, Sirius, and Remus) is thrown into the past…where he and his companions will have to face the Marauders. They will be forced to work together with the Marauders as they attempt to discover a way back to their own time. But will they be able to leave the future unscathed? Rated T for werewolf transformations and possible triggers. Please read/review!

Meddling With Time

"Awful things happen to wizards who've meddled with time."

Hermione, Prisoner of Azkaban

Peter Pettigrew staggered away from Lupin and Black, eyes wide, panting with terror. The piano—why did they ever put a piano in here? Does Remus play?—shuddered as he slammed into it. The sound that emerged was low and discordant, matching the tenseness in the room.

"Y-you wouldn't kill me, surely you wouldn't—" he choked out, staring up at his two friends in horror. "Remus…Sirius…oh, please, please, please don't kill me…"

Neither of the two spoke, only holding out their wands. Sirius' was steady—like everything Sirius did, his wand hand was firm and devoid of doubt. But as he whimpered and whined, begging for mercy, Peter saw Remus' hand tremble slightly.

"Please, Remus!" Peter wailed, reaching out as if to clutch Remus' legs. From off to his left he heard the boy—Ronald—make a disgusted sound in his throat. Fear, confusion, and the beginnings of hatred emanated off of Harry, and the girl was unreadable.

"Stop talking to him." Sirius' voice was the complete opposite of his hand; where his hand was steady, his voice was wildly erratic.

"Remus…please listen to me…."

"I SAID STOP TALKING TO HIM!" Sirius roared, advancing on Peter. Peter couldn't bite back the squeal of terror that escaped him. He stumbled backward, tumbling even harder into the piano. The legs cracked, and the instrument buckled toward the ground. On its way it scraped along Peter's back, and he felt his wand snap.

No!

There was an eruption of light, and the room shook like an earthquake had struck. The children screamed, and Sirius cursed—had he heard that word before? It sounded familiar—vibrantly. Peter dug into his back pocket and fished out his wand: it was glowing like a torch, and it was burning hot. He shrieked and dropped it, and out of the corner of his eye he saw the girl fish into her shirt and tear out a necklace. It too was glowing, and apparently burning. She held it out—

—and the entire room spun. Not around and around, like Peter had used to watch Remus spin Sirius' little cousin Nymphadora around, but up and down, like an hourglass…like the necklace that was bobbing in the girl's trembling hand.

A time turner.

The time turner and Peter's wand both glowed a brilliant white. The room shone, and Peter went blind.

"What. Did. You. Do?"