A Prologue

Guilt

It would be easier to run…I can't tell them. I must remain loyal and not let them know. I can't let the truth be told.

The midnight sky cast a shadow over the cold, eerie streets. A fog hung thick above the pavement and grass. No star or moon was visible in the overcast above, and the dim street lamps shed hardly enough light to see at all.

A rusted, iron fence towered ominously at the edge of a sidewalk, following around the corner of a street for a ways and then stopping. The fence dissolved into a gate somewhere in the center of the length, and behind the gate stood an old, worn down house. It was the type of house you'd see in horror movies, with the horror come to life. Gray, moldy looking paint was chipped off the wood boards of the house. The front porch was almost no more. Rotted wood placed at the front of the house, seeming to be left of what was once stairs. It was a tall, menacing house, with shadowed windows where the glass was broken in most of them. Either that or they were too caked in dust to see through. The fence ran along the equally desolate yard. Dead, brown grass wet with the accumulation of fog was the liveliest item on the lawn. Along the fence stood black, dead trees, some hollow, some looking as if they'd hold a few more weeks.

Along the cracked path leading to the house stood a short, pudgy man. He fidgeted, pacing back and forth as if pondering fervently. He was garbed in deep green robes that covered his feet and even trailed slightly along the ground behind him. The hood of the robes was tugged up on his head, hiding a muss of brown, mangled hair and scared, beady eyes. The little man was muttering to himself in a high, tiny whimper of a voice. He stopped dead in his tracks, however, as a light gust, or breath of air, announced the arrival of another cloaked figure. Taller, thinner, and more menacing was the new arrival, towering over the pudgy little man as he approached.

"Still meandering about here, Wormtail? I'd have figured you would be gone on a…visit…" the taller figure muttered, emphasizing the final word. Its voice was cold and hissing, sending a shiver down the spine of the man it had addresses as 'Wormtail'. He swallowed and spoke.

"N-no…master…" he spoke in a high-pitched voice, strained, as if holding his tongue against something.

"No?" it tsked once…twice…three times, "too bad…might care to go now, for by morning there will be nothing left to see but ash."

The small man curled his small hands into fists, and they soon began to shake. Finally he spoke through gritted teeth, a hiss much like the menacing one – the one he called master. Though his voice was just as quiet.

"You promised…." he paused, then shouted, "You promised me!"

From beneath the hood red, snake-like eyes glinted, peering down at him. They expressed delight.

"If I may say the truth?" He inquired. The smaller man nodded reluctantly and he could see the larger man sneer from under his hood. The man bent down a small distance, looking straight into the smaller man's face.

"I lied…"

The smaller man stood stiff, a cold pang of anger, sorrow, and quilt washing over him, paralyzing him. He held back his tears as best he could manage while staring into the face of his own betrayer.

"Take the night off, Wormtail…go see. But he back in the morning or it's your life as well as the little one's…"

These words made the little man jump, his heart pounding in his ears. A shrill, spine trembling laughter, as soft as the hum of a hummingbird's wings, was emitted from the taller man as he stood and swept by the small man. But, still, the smaller man did not move.

"I said go, Wormtail…I have plans yet to make for the execution of your…friends…"

As if weightless, the man moved up the stairs and across the porch, soon to be swallowed by the pitch dark of the eerie home.

The small man stayed frozen only moments after, and then bolted down the path and out of the gates, somehow managing not to stumble over his robes. He rounded the corner of the intersecting streets, where a large brick wall hid the fence around the haunting home. However, he smashed into something solid and was sent staggering back, his hood falling from his head. He looked up to see what he'd collided with and whimpered helplessly.

"You…" said a low, growling voice. Tears now started to pour from the small man's eyes, rolling down his dingy cheeks in a dull, yet pitiful manner. He stared up at the equally dingy face, the equally mussed shoulder-length black hair, and the cold, furious eyes glaring down at him. In one swift move his new acquaintance grabbed the small man by the scruff and pinned him against the wall with such strength the man could not even cry out.
"You filthy, low-life, murderous little retch!" his attacker hissed, still glaring. The small man wriggled and whined helplessly, to no avail.

"S-S-Sirius…!" he gasped. How does he know! How did he find out! He could not explain himself, for the black-haired man pressed his arm into his throat harder, but then found to be pressing against nothing. the black-haired man jerked forward lightly as the man he'd been threatening just…disappeared. He held only the man's green robes. He sneered in anger and looked back and forth along the wall and to the corner. The only thing visible was a small rat scuttling away and turning the corner. The black-haired man started running in that same direction, but soon he too vanished. The streets became eerily empty again, save for a large black dog bounding soundlessly down to the end of the street, and out of sight.