'This year' he thought to himself 'I will become more independent!'

This thought was the beginning of the end for Peter Pettigrew.

You see this man could easily be called spineless, a tool, if you will. He was despairingly uncourageous considering the Gryffindor he had once been. He was always seen tagging along. Be it behind the infamous Marauders, or the deviously evil Dark Lord.

Peter Pettigrew was a follower by nature, and this New Year, when he had resolved to challenge his nature and spread his own wings; he would find himself crashing to the ground in a graceless, charred heap.

Walking down the sidewalk of Muggle London, head swiveling from side to side in paranoia, he decided that the first thing he had to do was seek shelter.

Peter had no delusions of grandeur, living as a rat for a good part of one's life seemed to shatter the idea of ever living in luxury. No, Peter was happy to settle down in an abandoned box in a dark alley, just a few blocks shy of the slums.

'This will do' he though, glancing and the gloriously large box he had happened across. He quickly began settling himself into his new domain, pleasantly surprised to observe the threadbare blankets that had already been piled in the corner along with the stack of non-perishable food.

"Yes, this will do nicely." He stated to no one. He settled himself into the blankets and slowly drifted to sleep.

It never occurred to Peter that not all boxes found in back alleys came readily equipped with blankets and food, especially not boxes this nice.

Sleeping peacefully he did not hear it when the owner of the box returned to his home.

He was awoken by the feeling of being dragged and the sound of slurred and infuriated shouts.

"Why's ye in my box ye no good degenerate?" An angry man yelled as he continued to drag a half asleep Peter from the confines of the box.

Peter squeaked startled as the rambling and dragging continued.

"Who's ye think ye are, sleepin' in someone's box like yer entitled to it?"

Peter could say nothing as the dragging stopped, and the infuriated man continued.

"Well whats ye have to say fer yerself, Punk?" The man shouted as he loomed over Peter, a nasty look on his weather worn face.

Peter could only stutter in response "B-b-but I found this box!"

This further angered the already seething man, who passed the point of angered rambling, and started kicking Peter sputtering in rage.

Peter curled into the fetal position sniveling in fear and pain. It had skipped his mind that he was a wizard, and this man was only a half sober muggle.

The man continued the brutal assault, and Peter continued whimpering, when a policeman joined the scuffle.

"What are you two bums doing? Fighting in the street like animals! It's disgusting."

The angry man stopped kicking Peter and turned his attention to the disgruntled officer

"This man was sleepin' in me house! It's breakin' and enterin' that is! Ya should be arrestin' him!"

The police officer looked at the shouting man and at the crumpled Peter, sneered and lost the last shred of his patience.

"That's it! Both of you are going down town with me! I will not have such disgusting behavior on my watch!"

Quickly making good on his threat, the officer cuffed the angered man, and yanked Peter to his feet cuffing him as well.

The officer's actions may seem like they were extreme, but you must understand that Officer Stanley was having one of the worst days of his life. He had woke up this morning with his wife hollerin' about something ridiculous, in his haste to get away from the banshee he spilled scalding coffee on his pants. Work today had been hectic and he had just taken a crazy man peddling strange objects in a dark out of the way alley, into the station. The man had been shouting something about muggers and had made not a lick of sense. Needless to say Officer Stanley had completely lost his patience today, and had no desire to deal with two violent bums.

After the ride down to the station (in which Peter had realized during the thrashing he received from the drunken man sitting cuffed in the Police cruiser next to him, he had lost his wand somewhere in the alley) he was shoved in a cell with a group of Muggle Criminals.

Looking around his surroundings he made eye contact with a distinctly non-Muggle inmate. Shrinking into himself Peter had the sinking feeling that his resolution to seek out independence was going to end in imprisonment of the worst variety. The eyes of the non-muggle man seemed to widen in recognition, and a slimy grin twisted itself onto his face. He had just found his ticket out of this mess.

Just as the thought passed his mind a group of strangely dressed men entered the room, the most interesting among them being a man wearing a kilt. These men were quick to whip out their wands and stun the muggle authorities, and make their way to the holding cells.

"You have really done it this time Mundungus, getting caught by the muggle police. How you managed it we are still trying to figure out!"

"What are you doing here Arthur? How does this concern you?" Mundungus snapped out looking a little put out.

"Dumbledore sent me, not to mention you have about fifty different muggle items that have been tampered with!" Arthur hastily replied, looking just as disgruntled as Mundungus.

He had just sat down to dinner with his family and received an urgent summons from not only the ministry but also from headmaster Dumbledore demanding he return to work and sort out the mess Mundungus Fletcher had caused.

Seeing Arthur Weasley dressed in faded, baggy, muggle jeans made Peter squeak, drawing the attention of the room to himself. Gaping, Arthur and the other wizards had a hard time believing their eyes. Standing not ten feet away was one of the most infamous men in the Dark Lord's service, to those who knew of the incident involving the Potters and Sirius Black, and to those who were unaware of the situation involving the Potters betrayal, stood a man who should have been dead.

"Peter Pettigrew!" The gathered wizards seemed to shout in unison.

Peter could do nothing but cower away, cursing the New Year.

His resolution to become more independent had led to his capture, and there was a little less than nothing he could do to prevent the inevitable.

His last thought before he was blanketed in the darkness of a stunning spell was that Independence was highly overrated.