Hogwarts' hospital wing never was very full in the early morning. Indeed, even the worst-tempered students tended to wait until they had eaten a bit before hexing their fellow students, and no matter how clumsy one might be, potions accidents could hardly happen before the lesson had even begun.

Because of that, the only people to be found there at 6:15 in the morning were the overnight patients (and those were rare, unless the Gryffindor-Slytherin match had just been played), and the nurse, who had her rooms right next to the infirmary. That day, Madam Pomfrey was nowhere to be found: as with every other mornings after the full moon, she was in the Shrieking Shack, offering what comfort she could to one Remus Lupin, student and werewolf. The only patient to sleep in the hospital wing that day would not be waking up anytime soon, as he had been heavily dosed with both Calming and Sleeping draught that allowed him to rest somewhat peacefully after the ordeal of the previous night. A small shadow hidden in a dark corner sighed in relief at the expected – and safe – sight. The way was clear.

Slowly and carefully (the absence of any apparent threat was not a reason to become reckless), the hidden watcher approached the bed on which slept its target. There was a slight, barely perceptible hesitation – then the creature began to change, going from rat to man in less than a second, and Peter Pettigrew stood there, looking at the prone form of Severus Snape.

He did not have much time, he knew. Any minute now, Madam Pomfrey would be coming back, Moony in her wake, and he needed to be long gone by then. He did not like taking risks, and although his coming here had been unavoidable, staying for longer than needed would be an unnecessary gamble.

So – to work then. It was time he did his job, the one that had always been implicitly his. Where Prongs and Padfoot were the leaders, the risk-takers, those with the ideas and the will to put them in practice; where Moony organized their plans until every flaw had been removed, curbed their enthusiasm when they tried to bite off more than they could chew, and was their representative when confronted with the Authority, Peter was the lookup, the scout – and the eraser.

Whenever the Marauders were caught red-handed in one of their pranks, the focus of the Professors' wrath was always Prongs and Padfoot, and to some extent Moony, who they felt should have stopped them. But Peter, weak, small, easily disregarded Peter, could almost always disappear for a few minutes to try and reduce the punishment they would receive.

He could not make the prank itself disappear, no – they were already caught, and erasing the proof would only make his involvement obvious. The little things, however… if he undid the charm on the dung bombs that would have made the smell stick for days to those it touched, well then, it would only mean that they would spend less time in detention, wouldn't it? And surely, the professors did not need to know that the pink powder that was meant to fall from the ceiling of the Great Hall would have not only given a revolutionary hairstyle to most of the school, but also have given to a few chosen (Slytherin) victims an irrepressible urge to scratch themselves… somewhere.

Yes, this was Peter's role: to hide everything he could, so as to reduce the consequences as much as possible. He was a Gryffindor, and no matter what some might think, he had been rightly sorted. He would always do whatever was necessary to protect himself and his friends, no matter how afraid he might be.

Here, the situation was bleaker than usual: Padfoot had been caught trying to kill Snivellus, and there was no possible way to hide that. He and Prongs, the hero of the day, would have to sweet-talk the Headmaster into not expelling him; Peter could do nothing to help.

What he could do, was ensuring that nothing would be found that would expose their secret. Being exposed as an illegal animagus might be the nail on Padfoot's coffin, and it would certainly not do the rest of them any good, either. Prongs had had to change to save Snivellus' skin without losing his, and the Slytherin had seen it. He had not, however, had been coherent enough to reveal anything but Padfoot's murder attempt before Madam Pomfrey had forcefully sedated him. Peter would ensure that he never would be able to.

A few minutes later, a small rat scuttled back into its hole, its heart much lighter with relief. They were safe. Snape would never talk. Obliviate was such a convenient spell!