6 September, 1978— The Daily Prophet reports: A rash of grisly murders has swept over wizarding Britain, gripping the nation in fear. These seemingly random murders are linked by a single, haunting image: a serpent protruding out of the mouth of a skull. The ministry has offered no comment on the emblem's apparent connection to the gang known as the Death Eaters. Citizens are understandably disturbed, and have reached out to several sources regarding all possible connections to the evil omen. Horace Slughorn, president of the Slytherin Alumni Alliance, insists that there is no link between what is coming to be known as "the dark mark" and the ancient symbol of Slytherin House.
Peter once again found himself staring at the late Potters' large oak door. The twin brass door-knockers were shaped like lion heads that really roared if you tapped them on the nose with your wand. Peter remembered Mr. Potter laughing loudly at that, his left hand clasped jovially around his full belly as he tapped the lions' noses again and again for James and his young friends. Had they already been dead for a quarter year?
Peter sensed a chill in the air. The sun was setting, and autumn was coming on.
He raised his wand to touch the lion's nose, paused, and knocked instead. Remus answered, looking harried. "How is he?" Peter asked, stepping inside and pulling Remus into a one-armed hug.
"About as good as you'd expect," Remus shrugged. "He's a bloody mess. James is with him, and Lily's making tea."
Sirius's talk with his family had not gone well. James had owled Peter immediately when Sirius had pulled up on his new motorbike with a bloody nose. In the kitchen, Lily was pouring the kettle, steam rising in thin swirls. She glanced over her shoulder as they entered.
"Lily," Peter nodded, hugging her briefly. Her hair smelled like woodsmoke from the pot-bellied stove.
"Peter, thank God. It's—it's pretty bad. James took care of the nose, but he won't tell us what else they did to him." Her eyes were piercing in her fear. "I'm dreading the worst. I mean, I knew that Petunia wouldn't agree to reconcile when I tried to talk to her, but I thought at least Regulus would—" Lily twisted her fingers nervously. "At least Petunia couldn't really have done me any harm."
Peter glanced around the kitchen. "Where's Dorcas? Is she on her way?"
Lily exchanged a glance with Remus. "We thought it would be best if we didn't make her worry."
At that, James opened the back door. He shook his head at Lily. "Pete," he said seriously. "Thanks for coming, but we might as well leave him. I'm not sure how much we can do at this point. I've never seen him in this state."
Peter felt his brow crease automatically. "But—you've all talked to him, yeah?" James, Remus, and Lily met each other's eyes, then nodded at Peter. "If it's all the same to you, I'd like my chance, thanks." Without another word he strode purposefully to the back door and paused. He hoped he appeared more confident than he felt. Sirius had been known to pull out some nasty jinxes when he didn't want to be bothered.
Peter peered cautiously around the edge of the door. Sirius was hunched on the back steps, his face buried in his crossed arms. Peter edged around the door and padded softly to the steps.
"Oi," he said gently, and sat.
There was no response. Peter watched Sirius's shoulders rise and fall with each breath.
"I'm sorry, mate," Peter said simply, looking out into the Potters' garden. "They were bang out-of-order, as far as I can tell." Still no reply, but he got the sense that Sirius wasn't ignoring him. Being an only child, Peter could not really fathom sibling dynamics, but he knew what brotherhood meant.
"It might feel like you've got no family, but you must know that you do." Peter once again envisioned the fantasy-flat that they all would have shared. "You know you've got Prongs and Moony and me." He dared to nudge Sirius playfully on the arm. "And now you've got Lily—and Dorcas, you lucky bastard." He heard a soft heh at that.
"Really!" Peter went on. "I know we like to take the piss about needy girlfriends and all that, but she's a real catch. We all know how shit I am with birds; I'd be lucky to find a girl half as good as Lark. Even if her real name is Dorcas."
Sirius lifted his head, and Peter was surprised to see that his handsome face was wet with tears. "And all this time I thought you were a pouf, Wormtail. Fetch me a cigarette, will you?"
"Says the half-pouf," Peter shot back, grinning. A bubble of pride swelled in his chest; he supposed he'd gotten too used to getting bossed around, but this meant that Sirius was getting back to normal.
He stuck his head into the kitchen and smiled. "Anyone got Sirius's fags?" James, open-mouthed, passed a wrinkled pack into Peter's outstretched hand. "Thanks!"
Outside, Sirius lit the cigarette and inhaled deeply. "Nice not to get the third degree from you. Not like the others." He rubbed his face with the heel of his hand and studied his black boots intently.
That accounted for Sirius' unwillingness to speak up—he hated being asked to explain himself. Peter picked a blade of glass, placed it between his thumbs, and whistled idly.
"I thought I had Reg."
"Sorry?" Peter shot Sirius a sideways glance. Sirius was not the type for heart-to-hearts. He'd seen Sirius angry loads of times, but never regretful or introspective.
"I thought I had Reg, for a minute there." He exhaled, the smoke curled out of his nostrils. "I could see the doubt in his eyes. He's always looked up to me, you know. Even when Mum and Dad were squawking about what a terrible son and influence I was…well, I could tell he wanted to come. He—" Sirius's voice cracked, and he cleared his throat gruffly. "When I grabbed his arm I saw it. Tattooed on."
Peter's stomach dropped. "No."
"That's when he got me in the nose," Sirius shrugged. "I think I scared him, grabbing him like that. He never liked horseplay, or wrestling. Nothing like that."
Peter stared bleakly into the growing dark as Sirius dissolved into sobs beside him, the orange of his forgotten cigarette dimming to grey ash.
"How could it have gotten that far, Pete?" He buried his face into Peter's shoulder. "And Mum and Dad got all silent when they saw it branded on him, like they were ashamed! Bloody rich of them, as if they hadn't told us since we were in the bloody cradle that the pureblood cause was the right one. The only acceptable one!" He sniffed wetly and relit his cigarette with the tip of his wand. "Stupid. So stupid of Reg to fall for it. Bloody stupid."
Peter felt numb. The dark mark, his mind echoed. When the ugly symbol had made its first few appearances, Dumbledore had expressed concern that it represented a banner they could unite beneath.
Hadn't it been enough to mock the dead by hanging it over their bodies? Now You-Know-Who had gone and stamped it on his followers' bodies as well.
"Stupid," Sirius muttered again, sounding angry. "That idiot, always sucking up to Mum and Dad." He turned the cigarette out on the stair and stood abruptly, wiping his face once more. Suddenly, a new man stood before Peter, rosy-cheeked and clear-eyed. There was no hint of the hunched, tearful figure of only moments before. "Well, Pete. Guess we'd better go in and face the music. But let me tell it, would you?" Sirius cleared his throat again and flashed a devilish grin. It didn't reach his eyes.
Peter nodded sadly. He wondered if he could ever be a match for Sirius when it came to saving face. Sirius sauntered back into the house. As usual, Peter followed.
