Animus (n-ms)
A feeling of ill will arousing active hostility;
An attitude that informs one's actions; disposition;
In Jungian psychology, the masculine inner personality as present in women.
I. Animagus
He blamed Bellatrix for not warning him but more so Sirius for making his position a pitiable one. Once he could have shaken it off. Now, he was tied. Every day he regretted his decisions. He was trapped with a bunch of idiots.
"Hash browns," James said, as Sirius helped himself to all of them.
"Hash browns are a wonderful thing." Sirius was consuming them at an alarming rate. Peter rolled his eyes toward the ceiling and said,
"Hash. Browns."
"Hash."
"Browns."
"Niiiice."
"Don't be sarcastic, Remus, I know your true feelings."
"Fuuuuck yooooou…" Remus clutched at his head before it had a chance to land on the table. "I seek – "
"Death?" James shrugged at Remus' glare. "I thought it was a plausible assumption."
Peter jumped at a loud noise from behind, and James swore.
"Let's all just calm down, kids," Sirius said. "Admittedly we suffered a close call last night but it sure was fun, hey?"
Silence.
"Hey?"
Once, when Peter was very young, his mother had sat him down and preached to him the advantages of control. Control of yourself, control of a situation. Never let things get too out of hand, she had said. Don't make my mistakes.
He was a Gryffindor. He was small. To avoid trouble with the Slytherins he knew he would have to impress them, without alienating everyone else. That was hard, but he did it. He was proud of the line he toed.
Peter was not the brightest child. He knew this; others had informed him of it. He knew he would have to impress the Ravenclaws, somehow. Sheer diligence won the Hufflepuffs over.
He was kindly. He was liked. It wasn't unanimous, of course. It was just enough.
He was never well-known. Just well-liked, well enough.
From the first the Slytherins gave him an ultimatum. Us or them. What a difficult choice for Peter.
Back in the third year, Peter's Slytherin friends escorted him, trembling, to a meeting with a prominent Death-Eater, Bellatrix Lestrange, née Black. She made him a comfortable proposition: choose both. Take both sides, use them. All she asked was unfaltering loyalty and the rest would be taken care of.
His first project was a neat deal in which Golden Boy Peter Pettigrew befriends the famed outcasts Sirius Black, Bellatrix's disowned baby cousin; and James Potter, the clownish son of out-spoken Aurors, who were later killed in action. The two were bright boys looking for trouble, particularly of the illegal sort.
His timing impeccable, Peter had just won over James when they discovered a werewolf in their midst. James and Sirius jumped at the chance for a bit of fun.
Because Sirius had yet to trust Peter, and showed little sign of abating, Peter tended to watch. In this case, the boys were looking to torment the werewolf considerably before taking him on.
"I like Lupin," James said, for the sixth time by Peter's count.
"So we hear."
"He looks…" James began thoughtfully. Sirius climbed through the portrait hole behind him.
"Dangerous?"
"No…"
"Heartfelt? Fastidious? Gentle? Mean?"
"Do go on," James said sarcastically.
"Ferocious," Sirius said with a growl, clawing the air. "Gosh, I'd like to be able to turn into something."
"Intelligent?" Peter muttered, and James laughed. They were behind the couch where Remus Lupin lay, looking decidedly ill, so Sirius kept up his loud monologue as they sat down.
"Like a dog or something. A big, sort of, doggish thing."
"You could really wolf it down," James said. He slapped the floor in appreciation of his own humour, and the sound was echoed by a creak from the couch springs. Remus was awake.
"How about a tiger?"
"Don't like cats."
"Or an eagle?"
"What about a chicken?" Peter said innocently, turning a blind eye to the scowl issued from Sirius' direction. James coughed.
"We don't talk about that, Pete," he said.
"Sorry."
"No problemo."
"Are you about finished?" Sirius asked loudly. Peter jumped to attention; James assumed a languid pose and said,
"Continue."
"Thank you."
"What kind of an animal do you think I would turn into?"
Sirius contemplated that, and then said, "Vampire."
"That's not an animal."
"Humans are animals."
"You should try turning into one of those sometime," James said, "you won't be disappointed."
"Har de har har. I'm not kidding. Think of that, nicely scheduled after-hour – well, cannibalism of a sort, but no worse than, say, a werewolf for instance."
"You're babbling."
"Thanks for the catch, slick."
"I think I'd like a pet werewolf," Peter said, surprising them. Sirius made a slashing motion with his wand.
"I'd kill it and make it into a rug."
"Isn't that rather inhumane?"
"Shut it, Potter."
"I mean really, as far as I know they have specific genders. Can we please refer with the correct pronoun application?"
Sirius stared.
"Unless it was an eunuch. What do you call an eunuch, anyway?"
"Nothing?" Sirius squinted out the window. "Have you ever even met one?"
"Dunno, never asked," James said. "Doesn't really come up in idle chit-chat. 'Hi, I'm an eunuch, my friends call me Marce.'"
"Something like that actually happened to me once, I was on this train when – "
James waved him down before he got too lost in his thoughts. "Can we please focus?"
"On what, sorry?"
A snore issued from behind, and James scowled. "Never mind, we'll corner him later. But what say you to this. Let's do it."
"Let a vampire chomp us?"
"Turn into animals."
"I already have," Sirius said, bored. "Twice this morning, in fact."
"Lupin needs company. A couple – three," James amended, nodding at Peter, "smart-looking Animagi would do wonders for his complexion."
There was a moment in which they all considered that.
"He has been looking a bit peaky," Sirius put in.
"I like him," James said. They cornered him later.
What began as a test of Peter's ability to wile his way through tight situations, ended in a rather more literal version. Not only would he be spending Christmas with the Potters, he was learning to turn into a rat. Bellatrix would be sure to relay her pleasure to the Dark Lord.
The Slytherins' deference was enough for him. He had them all now.