Time was running out – Prongs had been dead for eighteen years, Padfoot dead for two years, and traitorous had been Wormtail dead now for a few days.

His time as the last marauder was going to end soon, and he knew. He'd never thought he'd be the last Marauder; he'd never thought that he'd have a family.

His Nymphadora, his little Teddy, they were both relying on him to come back to them alive. But it wasn't so simple – though he was enchanted at the fact that he was loved even with his condition,

But it wasn't so easy – he was running out of time, he knew, but he couldn't bear to say goodbye for the final time.

He was running out of time, always running out of time with the tick of a clock, and soon the Marauders would fall.

But at least they got their mischief managed – in the end.