The Code Part 4 - Peter

13. Finally, in accepting that you are a Marauder, you give your solemn oath that you would die for your brother should the occasion come.

He didn't want to, but he did.

Peter Pettigrew, Hogwarts graduate and member of Order of the Phoenix, sat in a dimly-lit pub laughing with his friends. "-And then the bloke just walks off like nothing happened!" recounted Sirius Black, guffawing loudly. His words earned another series of sniggers from those in his company.

"You know what I'm thinking about?" James Potter asked the others, bright-eyed and grinning.

"Gamp's Laws of Elemental Transfiguration?" guessed Sirius, leaning back comfortably in his chair.

James laughed loudly, but shook his head. "Seventh year," the dark-haired man announced. "Tonight reminds me so much of it. We're sitting around, drinking too much firewhiskey, laughing our arses off at nothing at all while we should probably be doing something else. I missed this," he said, grinning wider.

"I think you're a bit tipsy," commented Remus Lupin, waving his own glass around for emphasis.

"Perhaps," James agreed with a nod. "But all the same, I'd like to propose a toast. To seventh year, and all that it represents. Choices, surprises, love and bloody good brothers,"

They all raised their glasses and drank to his words. "Speaking of love," Sirius said, looking at James, "Isn't your wife going to be awfully hacked off at you for hanging out at pubs until the wee hours of the morning when she'll be ready to pop out an ickle Potter sometime soon?"

James glanced at his watch, and repeated the action with widened eyes. "It's that late? Lily's going to murder me if I'm not home soon. Believe me, no one wants to be around Lily when she's very pregnant and very angry. Twice as moody, thrice as violent." He slapped down some money for his drinks and stood. "I'm off, mates. Wish me luck!" he said, tipping an invisible hat to his friends before spinning around and running out of the pub.

"I'd never thought I'd see the day when our Prongs was so submissive to a female," commented Sirius, speaking of the gender as if it was a dirty word. He shook his head, smirking.

Remus gave a small smile. "Everyone else did. Lily had him gone over her far before they started going out. Even when he was 'an arrogant toerag', he would've jumped of the astronomy tower if she'd asked him to." He paused and thought. "Well, actually, I do recall her actually asking him to do that once, so maybe not. But even so, he'd do something equally ridiculous," he said with a shrug. Remus's opinions weren't very far from the truth. Loyalty was a trait that was very strong in James. His friends, wife and unborn child were his life, and he would willingly offer it up if it meant keeping them alive.

"Very true, Moony," said Peter, raising his glass to his lips.

Looking around the bar, it was plain that the number of people spending their night out had greatly decreased. Peter inferred that it had something to do with the current war being waged in the wizarding world. Voldemort, a sickening devil of a man, believed that there should be no Muggle-borns, or Muggles for that matter. He wanted a world of only wizarding blood. But from what Peter had learned from the Order, an organization which was fighting for Voldemort's defeat, the man himself was a half-blood. Peter shook his head in disgust. What a man, to kill that which is innocent, which is good, which is a part of himself.

Remus too seemed to notice the quiet around their little group. "Everyone's too afraid to leave their homes," he murmured, peering around, his voice much unhappier than earlier. He slumped over in his chair slightly, pinching the bridge his nose with a pained expression. "I hate this war. It's torn everything apart, including our own lives." He lowered his voice to a barely audible whisper and said, "What do you think about the prophecy?"

Sirius slammed his fist on the table, attracting the attention of the few people who had come out that night. He kept his voice quiet too, though clearly he was in the mood to scream. "I think it's a load of bullshit; why the hell is Voldemort concerned about a baby? Can't he just leave the kid alone 'til it's older? Like a toddler will be able to do what thousands of trained witches and wizards haven't be able to?"

Remus sighed. "Don't ask me to decipher how such a psychotic person's mind works. I don't know why he would go after a child either, but think of this: the man we're talking about is on a mission to off an entire race of people, two races if you want to break it up into Muggles and Muggle-borns. He obviously isn't the most sane person in the world," As Remus spoke, he grew even paler than usual, his mind probably on the two friends this concerned most.

Peter agreed with Remus. He hated the war with all the anger he had. There was a prophecy made that Dumbledore had told James and Lily about. It was about a boy who 'had the power to vanquish the Dark Lord'. The child was supposed to be born in July, to parents who'd faced him three times and lived. There were only two families which fit all the conditions: the Potters and the Longbottoms. But Dumbledore had said that Voldemort thought it was the Potters, and so had advised them to go into hiding. And they would, soon. James only had one week to wrap up loose ends before he would not be allowed to go about as he did anymore, not be able to participate in Order missions, not hang out with his friends at bars like that night, none of it. "It's not fair," Peter mumbled, leaning back in his chair. "Why should so many people have to die because one psycho has acceptance issues?"

"Life isn't fair, Wormtail." said Sirius bitterly. "And you'd be fooling yourself if you thought it was only one person. There's been prejudice in the wizarding world ages before Voldemort; just look at my family. It's that this psycho is the person who took it too far. Who took it beyond sneering comments and hurtful bias. Effing bastard," he spat, his lip curled up in an unpleasant look.

"Disgusting git," joined in Peter angrily.

Remus shook his head when the other two looked at him. "As much as I'd like to participate in the cussing out of the darkest wizard of our time, you must know that calling him names won't fix a bloody thing," He slumped farther in his chair, staring hard at his now empty glass. There was a moment of silence between the three friends, and quietly, Remus said, "You ever think maybe we're fighting a lost battle here? That Voldemort will win out eventually, so there's no point in trying any longer?"

"Excuse me?" Peter spluttered. He thought he must have misheard it, because surely, Remus didn't truly believe those words.

The werewolf frowned. "You heard me, don't make me say it again. It was hard enough the first time."

Sirius looked at his sandy-haired friend with raised eyebrows. "Where's this coming from, Moony? I thought the fight for good meant something to you. I think you of all people should understand that it's unfair for someone to be treated horribly and murdered for something they can't control,"

"Sirius, yes, I of all people know how unfairly people can be treated," Remus started, sighing, "But that's just the point. I've realized the fact that when it comes to certain things, there are opinions that people have that will never change. Even if Voldemort doesn't win, there will still be prejudice against Muggle-borns. Who's to say there won't be another person just like him that starts this all up again in twenty years? I'm just wondering whether this fight is going anywhere, actually doing any good, you know?" He shrugged and asked the barkeep for another drink.

Peter was shocked at Remus. Remus had always been the moral backbone of the group, always telling the other Marauders when to draw the line. But now, it appeared as if he'd lost hope, and whether this was temporary or permanent, Peter was unsure of. "We're at least saving some people, though admittedly we can't save them all. But if we're able to save at least one life in this whole jumbled up mess, isn't it all worth it?"

"I never thought I'd say this, but Pete's right," said Sirius, nodding in the shorter man's direction. Sirius's expression turned into a somewhat amused, somewhat bewildered smile. "I don't know what I should be more afraid of, the fact that Moony's taken my place as the resident cynic, or the fact that Wormtail seems to have become the intelligent one," he murmured.

"Hey!" protested Peter. "I'm intelligent. I just choose not to display it at most times," he added, grinning good-naturedly.

Remus was not coaxed out of his state by the humour of his friends. "I just don't know about anything anymore." Remus lowered his voice to a point where it was almost inaudible, but his friends had heightened senses from being Animagi, so they could hear him. "Did you know that I was contacted once, to work for Voldemort? It was subtle, but it was clear that he wanted someone with a furry little problem on his side. That's why I moved."

Sirius's mouth hung agape. "Why didn't you tell us, Moony? Why didn't you tell the Order?" he asked incredulously.

"I told Dumbledore. I didn't find it necessary to tell anyone else." Remus looked away from the others. "I thought you might overreact. I just... I'm tired of fighting right now."

Peter was left speechless. Remus had not kept anything this big from them since second year. Peter was almost starting to believe his friend's loyalty to the Order, to the good side, was wavering. He didn't want to believe it, but the way his friend was speaking made it hard not to think. He tried to push the thoughts out of his head with great difficulty and kept his mouth shut, for fear of what he might insinuate.

Sirius, on the other hand, was in no mood to keep his mouth shut. "How can you even think like that?" he hissed in an undertone. "With Prongs and Lily in danger, that's even more reason to fight for what's right! Do you want that on your head? Knowing that if they died, you didn't do everything in your power to prevent that? What is wrong with you, Remus?" The black-haired man scowled at his friend and continued to snap in a voice so low that the people around them could not hear. "If you think the fight is so useless, maybe you should've accepted Voldemort's offer."

Remus stood up from his seat and leaned his face down near Sirius's, rage clear in his features. "I do care about what happens to James and Lily and don't you for one damn second imply that I don't, Sirius Black. You have to learn that just because someone's tired of fighting, doesn't mean they'll stop!"

"I know that, Remus. I'm just not sure which side you want to fight for anymore," snapped Sirius coldly. At his words, Remus threw his money down for the drinks and took his leave, only offering Sirius an impolite hand gesture. Sirius sighed and rose as well, handing the barkeep his money and pulling on his jacket. "I need to go, Pete. Maybe we can meet up some other time; when Remus decides what kind of person he wants to be,"

Unsettled, Peter decided it was time for him to go home as well, and so he did. He apparated just outside his flat and took down the barriers momentarily so he could get inside. He put them up again and stepped inside. He threw his own jacket down on a chair and headed towards the couch, not in the mood to go to bed immediately. But he was surprised to see that there was already a man sitting there. If you could call the person sitting there a man, that is.

"Peter Pettigrew," said Voldemort in a cold, high voice. "Or is it Wormtail?" The Dark Lord held up letters from the Marauders he was looking through, gesturing to whom they were addressed.

His breath caught in his throat. He'd considered the possibility of this happening, but only in abstract. Now that he was here, the blood in the young man's veins went cold. Peter reached into his pocket for his wand, but Voldemort laughed, an unsettling sound. "I would not do that in your place, Wormtail. I think we both are aware that you are not the dueler your friends are. I am not here to fight you. I have a proposal for you to work for me."

"Not a bloody chance," said Peter in a voice braver than he felt. His heart pounded his chest, his fear mounting as he prepared himself to stand up against the most dangerous wizard in the world. He started to sweat, and he wanted to hyperventilate but did not want to seem any more afraid than he already was.

"You Gryffindors," murmured Voldemort, what one might call a smile forming on his face. "Always so stubborn and hot-headed. And I've not even told you exactly what I'm offering. You are friends with Lily and James Potter. So I assume they've told you about the prophecy that was made about their unborn son?" Peter glared at the man, but gave no answer. "I take your silence as your response. I do not fear anyone, but precautions must be taken. I cannot have the Mudbloods and blood-traitors gaining hope, you understand. So, I offer you a position among my men, to take watch of the Potters. You would inform me of their movements and decisions. You will be greatly rewarded, of course, should you succeed. Power, glory, fame; all the things you could not gain in the shadow of your comrades."

Power, glory, fame. Though these words appealed to baser instincts within the wizard, he could not allow himself to be fooled. Peter's hands were shaking, and he had to clench them. With all the courage he had, he spat, "I would never betray James and Lily. Not in this lifetime!"

Voldemort sighed, seeming very tired. "I thought as much. Crucio!" he called out, pointing his wand at the other.

Peter fell to the floor as every inch of him felt as it was on fire. He wanted to stay strong, but Merlin it hurt, and he screamed. And as he made his agony known, the person whom he had denied was laughing. He watched the man writhe in pain and laughed, cold and high. Peter wished he would go unconscious, but the pain would not allow him to. This torture continued, and Peter did not know how long. He could not keep track of time while he was burning alive from the inside out. When he was almost ready to beg for this to end, the pain ceased.

"Have you chosen to reconsider?" The laughter had not quite left his expression.

Peter's resolve was weak, but it was still there. And as he dragged himself off of the floor, his balance precarious, he managed to gasp, "No,"

"I prefer not to spill pure blood, but often it is a necessity. Avada-"

"Wait!" yelled Peter before Voldemort could complete the curse. The smile returned to Voldemort's face. "I wouldn't have to hurt them, would I? I'd just have to tell you what they were doing?"

"Yes, Wormtail. You will follow the Potters' every movement and report back to me. You will have to take down those who stand your way. You cannot let a single person know what you are planning, or you will suffer deeply. You must give me your allegiance, and you shall survive. Do not pretend to know things you do not; or offer me false loyalty, for Lord Voldemort knows when you are lying." The person who seemed more snake than human looked straight at him, as if he were reading his mind. Peter remembered Dumbledore saying that Voldemort was skilled at Legilimency.

"B-but my friends. They'd be safe, right? No one would hurt them, or me?" he asked, trembling.

"You will not be killed if you join me," Voldemort responded, red eyes glinting.

Peter could not help but notice that his questions hadn't been answered, not really. But he knew that this was his only choice, and it was his life that was on the line. He had to do this. He swallowed loudly, his mind screaming at him, furious at his betrayal to those he loved. "I-I'll do it," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. He thought it might crack with emotion.

A vindictive satisfaction was apparent on Voldemort's face. "Hold out your arm," he ordered and Peter did so, rolling up his sleeve. He seemed perform a spell, and Peter did not know what until the pain started.

The least courageous Marauder looked at his arm, frightful of what he might find. He saw a skull, throbbing uncomfortably on his skin. Peter was repulsed, and wanted to look away, but the tattoo was not yet finished. Peter's heart thudded louder than it ever had as a serpent slithered out of the skull's mouth and settled onto his arm. As if the allegiance he'd just sworn wasn't enough proof of his betrayal, his skin was forever marked with the evidence of what he was going to do.

"Goodbye, Peter Pettigrew. I look forward to hearing from you," the pale half-man said. Voldemort took his leave of the dingy flat, easily removing the apparation barriers the owner had cast.

Memories in Peter's mind went on a continuous loop.

He remembered the black-haired eleven-year-old punching three Slytherins who had been picking on him, claiming it was cowardly to outnumber someone and hex them when their back was turned. He'd then helped Peter up, and walked with him to their next class. He thought of the sweet young girl helping him with his Charms homework in third year, though he knew she did not like him or his friends. He recalled the tall, lanky Marauder stepping in front of Peter when the Cruciatus curse was cast on their first Order mission. He vividly saw and felt Lily hugging him on her wedding day, laughing and crying. He heard the two announcing the pregnancy, rosy-cheeked and delirious with happiness.

He hoped he never had to see their faces after they'd found out what he'd done, and was to do.

That night, Peter tried many things to get rid of his new tattoo. He tried washing the Dark Mark printed on his skin off, with the most scalding hot water possible, but all it did was burn the skin around it. He tried covering it with the powder that female Muggles used on their skin, but the powder would not touch it. He tried magicking it off, but this just caused the skin around it to be removed, exposing flesh. No matter what he did, the pulsating Dark Mark would not budge. Peter was filled with anger at Voldemort for forcing him into this situation, and filled with self-loathing for what he had done.

Peter rolled up his other sleeve, to see the other tattoo that he was marked with. This was not a mark of evil and hatred, but a marked which proved his bond of friendship. In seventh year, all four Marauders had gotten tattoos to celebrate the end of their Hogwarts careers, and the dawn of a new era. A simple M done in red and outlined in gold. Peter's hands were still trembling as he touched it. He closed his eyes. I don't deserve it now, he thought.


The next morning, Peter went to visit the Potter's, his full intention of confessing to them what he'd done, and trying somehow to gain their forgiveness. Then he remembered Voldemort's words the previous night. Lord Voldmort knows when you are lying. If Voldemort summoned him -which he very well could now that he was a... was one of them- he would know what he had done and Peter would be killed immediately. He tried to convince himself that James would want this, Peter doing whatever it took to stay alive.

James opened the door of their flat. Security was lax now; they would be moving very soon. "Hey Wormtail. Didn't know you were coming over, we're just packing. You can come on in, even help us if you like." James paused and grinned. "You know what, I changed my mind. If you choose to come in, you've got no choice but to help us. We have to do this the Muggle way because we can't attract a lot of attention, and you know magic leaves traces. Lily can't do any lifting, being pregnant and waddling about. I need some more man-power. My wife's a lovely woman, but at the moment she's absolutely useless."

"I heard that," came Lily's voice from inside. Along with her voice came a pillow, which promptly smacked him in the back of the head.

"I called you lovely!" James called back, but another pillow flew at his head all the same.

Peter smiled, though behind his smile his thoughts were dark. "Sure I'll help, Prongs, just show me what to lift." Peter flexed his arms, "I'm full of man-power," he gloated jokingly.

James nodded, sniggering. Peter was nowhere near the fittest of people, and they both knew it. "I bet you are, Pete." He looked closer at his friend, and frowned in concern. "You alright, mate? You don't look so good; maybe you should go home and get some rest. I'll manage,"

"I'm fine. I just didn't get much sleep last night." Peter shrugged nonchalantly, though he felt anything but that. He hadn't slept the entire night. He'd just stared at the two tattoos, going over every good moment he'd had while fighting against Voldemort, and every bad one. The guilt ate at him, but he couldn't bring himself to move. "C'mon, Prongsie, let's get to moving."

He gave his friend an odd look, which showed he knew there was more to it. Thankfully for Peter, James did not press the matter. "That's the spirit," he replied, throwing his arm around his mate and dragging him inside. The apartment was full of boxes, open and closed, big and small. Other than the boxes themselves, the room was rather barren.

James turned to Lily, who seemed to be bending down to get one of the lighter boxes. "Love, let me get that. You can organize the boxes, you're better at it than I am. Don't strain yourself, I don't want anything happening to you," He spoke gruffly, but his concern for her and their child was clear. The guilt wrenched through Peter's heart.

He watched the black-haired man take the box from his wife and set it down, pulling her into a strong embrace, one hand on her back, the other resting on her rounded belly. Wonder lit up James's face, a look echoed on that of Lily. "He's kicking," she murmured. "I've been pregnant eight bloody months, not a single kick. I can't believe it," She shook her head, but let out a small laugh.

"Damn, it's like he's ready to kick off the ground in there. Wants to fly like his old man, I bet," observed James with a hint of pride.

Lily rolled her eyes. "Of course you'd find a way to relate a sentimental moment to Quidditch. Don't you pressure him into it if he doesn't want to do it." James looked outraged at the implication his son would not want to participate in Quidditch, and ready to protest, but Lily silenced him with a look. She gestured to Peter who was standing a little way away from them. "Come on, Pete, have a feel. It's the strangest feeling in the world."

"I don't think I sh-" was as far as the man got before Lily grabbed him and placed his hand on her stomach. Sure enough, there was something nudging his hand. For a moment, he let himself enjoy the wonderment. But the path his mind led would not let him forget, even for a second. A baby's foot. The foot of his friends' son. The son he would most likely help to destroy. Peter felt sick again.

He removed his hand. "Maybe I should go home. I think the sandwich I had last night was a bit shady," he lied.

The worried look returned to James' face. "Alright, Wormtail, if you're sure." Lily must have noticed his displeasure, because she placed a hand on her husband's arm reassuringly.

"Goodbye," he said quietly. Peter turned his back on them that moment, in more than one sense.


Despite what Peter felt, time went on. Months passed, and things continued to happen. Remus and Sirius made up, to some extent. The man himself had never witnessed it, but they seemed to get on well enough in public. At the end of July, Lily had a baby boy that she and James named Harry. Sirius was named the godfather. Remus and Peter came to see him, and as he looked at the baby that had Lily's bright eyes, he swore he would tell them. He would tell them, and they would be disappointed, and lose trust in him, but he would apologize and they would eventually forgive him.

But as he opened his mouth to let out his confession, he found he could not breathe. The threat of Voldemort's wrath loomed over his head, and he tried to convince himself that James would want him to keep himself alive in any way he could. He shut his mouth, time and time again, because he was too much of a coward. He grew to consider himself the lowest form a man, rightfully so.

As much as he feared retribution for it, Peter's dearest wish was for his friends to tell him nothing. For them to not confide in him in the least, because it would be his duty to pass on the information if they did. He hated whenever they told him the smallest details of their life, it ate away at him so.

Possibly just as bad, Sirius grew more and more suspicious as the days went on, but not of him. Oh no, the one Sirius cast a wary eye over was Remus, and perhaps the lycanthrope knew, because he distanced himself from the others. Pangs of guilt hit him, as he was forced to go along and pretend he believed so ill of his friend. Sirius chose never to bring these suspicions up in front of James, because he grew defensive and irritated any time someone near them was suspected of a leak.

As Harry grew, Lily and James put up a happy front, but anyone could see the strain beneath their smiles. They feared for his safety more and more every day, and they often lashed out at one another because of their frustration. They loved and treasured their time with each other, but fought more often because of the turmoil they faced. James was extremely restless because, under Dumbledore's orders, he was not to leave the house (though he sometimes disobeyed this with the help of his invisibility cloak). Lily on the other hand, tried to busy herself to no avail. James told Peter that more than once he'd discovered her in kitchen, sobbing as she scrubbed the counters or something of the like. James would hold her and tell her it was okay, and she would cry harder because they both knew he was lying.

On a cold night in early September, the Potters asked Sirius Black to be the Secret Keeper for the Fidelius charm. Sirius, though honoured he was asked, denied the offer, citing that he was the most obvious choice. Everyone who knew James Potter knew that he and Sirius were inseparable, the brothers that outshined all biological bonds. And so, still cautious around Remus, he suggested that Peter of all people be the one to keep the secret.

Peter, who was harbouring the greatest secret of all.

He wanted to scream when Sirius approached him with it. Forcing himself to be brave, he told Sirius no, several times. But Sirius would not let up, and kept telling him that it was what was best for James and Lily, and he ought to do it out of loyalty to them, if nothing else.

The mousy-haired man wanted to tell him the truth with all his heart: he was refusing to do it out of loyalty to them. If he did it... if he became what they wanted him to be... they were done for. They would die, and they would die at his hand, and as much as Peter could not live with himself already, he would never be able to face a mirror if he had their blood on his hands.

He begged Sirius to understand, saying that he was not brave enough, not intelligent enough for this duty. He told Sirius that he ought to do it, he was the one the Potters went to in the first place. But the dark-haired Marauder would not comply. He remained adamant that it was not safe to choose him, all would expect it, and Peter was perfectly capable of the position.

As the requests became more and more frequent, reaching the point when he was asked on a daily- no, hourly basis, Peter could not take it anymore. He conceded, if only to get Sirius out of his house. The moment he said yes, he was filled with regret. Sirius beamed and used his mirror to contact James. Soon the Potters were at the door step, veiled under the invisibility cloak.

"He's agreed," Sirius announced after the security questions had been answered, and the barriers lifted.

The door was pulled open. Though to the casual observer's eye, there was nothing awaiting them on the outside of Peter's flat, Sirius and Peter had seen James disappear under that cloak enough to know what was there. Once inside, Lily and James appeared, wands drawn. They stowed them as they recognized their friends. They needn't ask what Peter had agreed to.

Looking between his two friends, James sought confirmation for the statement, as if the words said through the door may have been a farce. Sirius smiled, and this was enough. James threw himself into a brotherly embrace with Peter. James swallowed audibly and said quietly, in a voice heavy with emotion, "I cannot describe... how much it means to me, that you're doing this, Wormtail."

After James moved aside, Lily wrapped her slender arms around the plump man. "Thank you, Peter. We trust you." she said, and as she pulled back her eyes glistened with tears.

Peter tried to keep his lip from quivering. It was very hard to meet her eyes. "Please, don't thank me. I... I want to," he lied.

Sirius clapped a hand on James's shoulder. "Where's Harry?" he inquired, looking around for his godson.

"We left him with Alice and Frank when you contacted us," Lily explained, rubbing at her eyes. She sighed, a sound mingled with relief and sadness. "Merlin, I have never felt so relieved and scared at the same time. I mean, we trust you with all our hearts, but it's a little nerve-wracking to place your life -and your son's life- at the hands of someone other than yourself, you know? We are forever indebted to you for this, Pete. We would've made James the Secret Keeper, but we weren't sure about the rules of an inhabitant of the house being the Secret Keeper, and we trust the three of you more than anyone else in the world." Her sincerity rang through her words.

"A real hero, this Peter." Sirius declared, grinning with a nod towards his mate.

"A hero," echoed James, reaching out and ruffling the man's hair.

And it was James's voice that rang through his mind so many years after that, as a silver hand clasped around his throat.

He didn't want to, but he did.

A/N: Thank you to those who have stuck with this, I love to hear from you. The third part was very difficult to get out. This all went a bit darker than I'd imagined, but I'm satisfied. Anything affliated with the Harry Potter series belongs to Joanne Rowling and the Warner Bros.