Chapter Three

Wormtail was enjoying himself. He was enjoying himself quite a lot actually, though he was careful not to show it.

...

He had arrived home late last night - finding his door wide open, and he knew that meant Padfoot had been here, had been looking for him … and Padfoot was not stupid. Oh he wasn't as clever as he thought he was - not clever enough to stop Peter pulling the wool over his eyes - but smart enough to work out something was wrong, when he found Peter missing.

But that was no matter. The place was empty, Sirius had been and gone. Prongs would be dead, maybe if Padfoot got there in time he could join him - and Wormtail would join the ranks of Voldemort's army and reap the rewards of handing the Dark Lord what he wanted most of all: the Potters.

All he had to do was go inside, grab some of his things and then leave for his new life with the Death Eaters - as one of the Dark Lord's most trusted lieutenants.

But then things had hit a snag when, just as he was slipping inside into his dark hallway, two Aurors apparated out of nowhere and nearly scared the pumpkin juice right out of him. For a heart stopping moment, he thought the jig was up. He very nearly transformed into a rat and scuttled away, knowing they couldn't possibly find him in the pitch black night.

But Alastor Moody was too quick for him, and had him covered by his wand before he could even reach for his own.

'Been somewhere, Pettigrew, have you?' Moody had snarled, in that growly voice of his.

Peter had suppressed a squeak of fear and nodded his head, 'yes - yes... I uh - just back from - uh - visiting my mother.'

'It's late to be doing that.'

'She - uh - she's not well … and in these times, well … you know…' He had smiled - what he had hoped was a nonchalant and pleasant smile, but could feel himself was actually a weak and weedy one.

'Have you heard the news?'

'News?'

The two Aurors had glanced at each other then - and Mad Eye had cleared his throat, and his gruff voice had become gentler. 'I think we better go inside.'

...

They had taken him in, sat him down - Kingsley had even made him a cup of tea - and then they had told him that Lily and James were dead, which of course he already knew, and that Sirius was to blame for it - which wasn't true but he was very glad that was what they believed, and he certainly wasn't going to put them right on the matter. The only news that had come as an actual shock to him was that the baby had survived and that Voldemort - it seemed - hadn't.

Well, Peter couldn't say he was sorry to hear the Dark Lord was gone. Yes, he had been looking forward to his well deserved riches for handing over the Potters but... he had joined the ranks of the Death eaters out of fear, when he realised there was nothing to be gained from standing against them - not out of any loyalty or love for the cause.

...

His time at school, watching Padfoot and Prongs torture Snivellus, had taught him the value of being on the side of the tormentors. How he was only safe as long as he did the bidding of the biggest bullies in the playground. Well - back at Hogwarts that had been Padfoot and Prongs... and Moony, but out here - in the real world - they were nothing but damp squibs. The Dark Lord was where the power lay - so it was the Dark Lord's side that Peter wanted to stand by … But just as he had been terrified of his friends at school, flinched from their scornful words and did anything he could to make sure they levelled their wands at Snivellus and not at him, he had also been terrified of his new master.

If the Dark Lord was truly gone - and no one knew he had been one of his soldiers - then Peter was not going to mourn him. If the Dark Lord was gone, then Peter was free - of his old masters and his new. And better yet - Padfoot was being hunted. Everyone thought it was Sirius who was the spy. Peter was beyond suspicion - he was now the grieving friend of James and Lily, the one who had lost the most in this attack - and that was how everyone was now treating him... And that was why he was enjoying himself.

...

The two Aurors hadn't stayed long, they had left to go and check on Moony - to give him the same news they had given Peter.

Moony's grief would be real of course, the mangy werewolf would be cut up by the loss and shattered by Padfoot's betrayal. He would be here soon enough, Peter thought to himself, and they would commiserate together.

But for now he was being looked after by Hestia Jones and Emmeline Vance. Both women were red about the eyes themselves, but they bustled around his kitchen making him toast and bacon sandwiches and copious cups of tea.

And he sat there - and enjoyed it all, remembering to look sad - remembering to sniff loudly every so often, as he wolfed down the bacon sandwiches. But for the most part he sat back and thoroughly enjoyed being fussed over, being the centre of attention.

He had never been the centre of attention before - not with Padfoot and Prongs around. But they were gone now and, in their absence, Wormtail was suddenly the one who mattered. And it felt great.

...

He had just finished his fifth cup of tea and was requesting a sixth, when the doorbell rang. He expected it to be Moony, and scraped his chair back so he could go and answer the door.

'Don't be silly, dear,' Hestia said kindly. 'I'll go - Emmeline get him his tea.'

He gladly sat back down and awaited his next mug of steaming, hot tea - while Hestia bustled down the hallway.

...

Back in the kitchen, he heard the door open - and then he heard Hestia's voice, sharp and annoyed. 'What are you doing here?'

Maybe it wasn't Moony after all.

'You have no business here.'

'I'm here to speak to Mr. Pettigrew,' a woman's voice answered.

'Have you no shame?' Hestia sounded outraged, now. 'Today's not the day. Get away with you!'

'Mr. Pettigrew! Mr. Pettigrew!' the woman's voice called out, down the hall - ignoring Hestia's loud objections. 'It's Rita Skeeter from The Daily Prophet. I wondered if I might have a few words.'

'Get. Out.' Peter heard Hestia say - and then the door slammed, and Rita Skeeter's voice was cut off. A moment later, Hestia returned to the kitchen, grumbling under her breath: 'vultures, vile creature.'

...

Peter bit into a slice of toast and chewed thoughtfully. So the press wanted to talk to him did they? He really was the centre of attention. Hestia was right - today wasn't the day, but maybe - in a day or two - he could seek out Rita Skeeter, when it seemed more appropriate, when a grieving period had passed - and then he could give an exclusive interview on his heartbreak, his close friendship with James and how he had always known Padfoot was a wrong 'un. He would make the front page. Every wizard in the country would hear his story, would weep for his grief. He really would be the centre of attention.

Thanks Padfoot, thanks Prongs, old friend. Oh yes - he was really going to enjoy this.

Dumbledore sat in Snape's office, down in the dungeons, and watched the younger man weep. He had been weeping for hours. Severus' eyes were red rimmed, his face was splotchy but his expression - his expression was one of pure anguish, of torment. This was a broken man - a man who had lost everything, and just looking at him made Dumbledore's heart hurt.

'You said she would be safe,' Severus choked out, between sobs, 'you said you would protect her - you promised.'

'I am sorry, Severus. Lily put her faith in the wrong person. I wish things could be different.' He thought of Harry missing, the danger he was now in. 'I wish many things were different. This is not how I planned it. But no man can control the entire world, Severus - not even me.'

'Your plans - your plans - what good are your plans now?' Snape's face was suddenly twisted with anger - and his voice was harsh. But a moment later, the pain broke over him again and he began to sob once more. 'What good is anything - what use is anything now?'

Dumbledore looked grave, the lines on his face were more apparent than they had ever been, his great age visible all of a sudden, and his shoulders were still slumped - as if they were bearing the weight of the entire world. 'I fear there may not be much good to come,' he said, 'I fear the worst is yet ahead of us.'

'What - what could be worse?' Severus choked and spluttered as he tried to speak past the cries catching in his throat.

Dumbledore steepled his fingers. 'I had hoped all would be well - of course I did. But when I heard of the attack, of the destruction of the house, the rumours of Harry still living - I put a contingency plan in place - right away. My aim was to keep the boy safe. Voldemort may be gone, but I feared Harry had never been in more danger. I planned to place him with Lily's sister - his aunt in the muggle world. Lily saved Harry's life, Severus - she died for him. Voldemort did not want her - you had begged for her life - and yet he killed her and so Harry lived, protected by Lily, by her blood. This is old magic - and her sister shares that blood, can offer that same protection to the child… But he was stolen before I could get to him.'

Snape had stopped crying now - though his eyes were still red. He was watching Dumbledore closely, through his curtain of greasy hair - his breathing was shallow, as he listened to what the old man had to say.

'Without his mother's protection, Harry is still at risk - from other Death Eaters, from Voldemort himself. Voldemort is not dead - he will find a way back, and I would feel far better knowing that Harry was within our control. For Harry may well be the key to Voldemort's return. But now he is in the hands of Voldemort's servants … Severus, when you asked me to protect Lily you told me you would do anything in return - and now I must ask something more of you. I need you to find me the boy. I need you to find him and return him to his muggle family, to Lily's family. I need you to place him back within the protection that Lily died to bestow upon him.'

Snape's face had creased into lines of agony - and anger - 'why would I … what do I care? The brat is nothing to me.'

'Lily's own son,' Dumbledore said, reprovingly.

'She died for him. I hate him. '

'If you won't help protect him, then you let her die in vain. Is that what you really want, Severus? Don't you want to honour her, to finish what she started? … You know, Harry's eyes are the exact same shape and colour as Lily's. Do you remember Lily's eyes?'

'Stop it.'

'You gave me your word, Severus.'

'I said if you protected her. She's dead … she's dead…' And he creased up in pain again, weeping once more.

Dumbledore looked at him sadly. 'Those we love never truly die, Severus. They never truly leave us. Lily lives in you. And she lives in her son. I need you to find him for me. I need you to track down the ones who took him.'

'I can't … I can't.' He continued to cry, his sobs bouncing off the dungeon walls and echoing all around them, magnifying his grief. Dumbledore sat with him, watching him, saying nothing - just waiting.

The scene - Snape's noisy grief and Dumbledore's sad watching - was suddenly interrupted by a flash of brilliant, white light shooting into the dungeon and then coalescing into a solid shape, taking on the form of a Lynx.

The Patronus opened its mouth and spoke in Kingsley Shacklebolt's voice: 'Dumbledore, we found Pettigrew at home but Lupin is missing. There is no sign of him anywhere, we fear he has gone with Black. It is as you suspected.'

Once the message was given, the Patronus shimmered and began to dissolve, losing it's form; melting into nothing but light and then fading away completely - leaving the dungeon in darkness.

Dumbledore hung his head and felt the pain return tenfold to his heart. Yes - it was just as he suspected, and just as he feared. Love. Both beautiful and terrible. One could perform unimaginable greatness for love … and unimaginable wickedness. No one knew that better than he. And now Lupin's love had led him to destroy everything. How Dumbledore had hoped this would not be the case.

When he looked back up - it was to realise that the sobs had stopped, the dungeon was quiet - and Snape was staring at him; his cold, black eyes narrowed and flashing. 'What was that about Black and Lupin?' he asked, his voice was shaking with anger.

Dumbledore fixed his own eyes directly on Snape, and fought to keep his voice steady, fought to ignore the pain in his heart: 'It was Sirius Black who sold Lily and James to Voldemort,' he said heavily. 'It is he who has taken Harry.'

'And the werewolf?'

'Is missing. We now believe he was working with Black - we believe they betrayed James - and Lily - together. And now they have Lily's child.'

Snape's eyes flashed again - dangerous this time, his jaw was set. 'Then I will find Lily's child,' he said. 'Nothing would give me more pleasure.'

Far away from the pain and the darkness and the grief, Sirius and Remus had settled on the tiny island of Herm, in the middle of the English Channel. It was entirely populated by muggles - all sixty of them - and they knew this was a place no one would think to look for them and no one would disturb them.

They had taken over a tiny, tumbledown, stone cottage - which stood on the cliffs, overlooking a beach lined entirely by shells. The iron grey waves of the sea crashed against the shore, beneath them, shooting up spouts of white foam. Sea gulls wheeled in the skies overhead, their cries the only sound for miles. It was a beautiful spot - though in the cold, November light, it was a desolate and lonely kind of beauty. But it felt safe. And that was what the three of them needed - safety, and isolation.

The chimney was cracked and the roof was missing half its shingles, when they arrived - a great gaping hole opened up into the room beneath, and the floorboards inside were rotten with rain. The front door was equally rotten, and it stuck when they tried to open it. The inside smelt fusty and musty and with just the lingering air of damp seaweed.

But the two men had not been put off. What was magic for if not for this? With a few waves of their wands they had mended the roof, replaced the floorboards, given the whole cottage a fresh lick of paint and new windows and doors, transfigured the furniture and lit a fire in the grate. It was completely habitable in less than an hour and - while Sirius put Harry down for a nap in the crib in Sirius' own bedroom, Remus stood in the garden and cast the protection enchantments which would keep them hidden from view and act as an early warning system if any witch or wizard apparated onto the island.

Then - and only then, did they sit down in front of the fire in their new living room with a cup of tea, and talk about what had happened and what the future now held in store for them.