Extra: Siriusly Guys, It Wasn't Me!

Sirius Black was livid. Well, livid was a more docile way of putting it. Less eloquently, Sirius was pissed. And he had good reason to be. Oh, they had all just went along and trusted Peter! And all this fucking time and after how much they'd wholeheartedly defended him from schoolyard bullies and Death Eaters alike, because the Marauders protected their own.

It hurt. A lot.

It hurt that someone they'd went through such lengths to guard, someone who they would unquestionably give up their life for, would just dismiss them as soon as, what? As soon as there was a higher power that was willing to take him- it was painful to think his name, so Sirius would just refer to him as The Spy- on?

Sirius doubted they'd ever find out the whole truth, but, by God, they deserved it. So, in a way that was uniquely Sirius, he channeled the pain into something else, into something stronger, because this was war, he couldn't afford to sit around and mope about how it came to this. This was one of the times that the implication of the seemingly endless battle they fought weighed on his shoulders fully- you truly couldn't trust anyone, no matter friend or foe.

He'd ran to the place where little Harry and Liam were kept, and upon seeing they were alive, well, as much as Sirius would've liked to stop and shed a few tears, offer Lily and James his- Condolences? Congratulations? Both seemed more than inappropriate.

Anyway, even though he wanted to stop by with the family in the ruins of the safe-house, he knew that it was a pointless endeavour, given that they were safe with Albus Dumbledore, Albus who turned from the twinkly eyed Headmaster who had a penchant for mischief makers such as himself, to this- this leader, in all sense of the word, steely eyed and resolute. Sirius had always known that there was more to him, that he was the defeater of Grindelwald, that he was the most powerful wizard of their age, but it didn't really resonate with him, that it was all a facade, until he was faced with those eyes that were war weary.

It was then that Sirius knew that he had a whole of a lot of growing up to do, and that pranks were useless during a fight with Death Eaters, who fought to maim. to kill.

So, as soon as Sirius caught wind of The Spy's betrayal- Why?- he ignored the fainter murmurs of You-Know-Who's defeat with reckless abandon. He was going to fucking kill him for what he'd done, and smile whilst he did it. After Sirius had been assured that the Potters were all alive and okay, he knew were his next destination was to be.

iii

Peter Pettingrew was scared. He was a desperate, desperate man. His Lord had been conquered, somehow, and now Peter had nowhere to go, no-one to turn to.

Of course, he could always scuttle back to the Marauders. He sneered at the thought of them. Oh, yes, precious little Black, charming Potter, and oh-so-intelligent Lupin. They were all so quick to scoop poor, timid Peter up, take him underneath their wing as though he were no more than a pet, a little charity project to look after. Well, he'd shown them! Gave his Lord the information to what was to be their downfall right underneath their pretty little noses!

So, no, Peter would not turn back to his friends. Not that he thought he'd be able to, anyway. Thick as thieves, the lot of them, oh yes. Peter pertained no illusion that they wouldn't murder him on sight, especially Black, Black who was slightly unhinged and valued loyalty above all else. Peter was currently bustling through a crowd of muggles (God, why were they even awake at this time?) when the moment he'd been dreading came upon him. Oh, why him, why now, he just wanted to wait a little longer, wanted to enjoy what scarce freedom he possessed.

"Why did you do it, Peter?" Black all but snarled. His features were twisted in pure rage, his teeth bared as he aimed his wand at Peters throat. Peter whimpered.

"Whu-What are you t-talking about S-Sirius? YOU KILLED THEM, YOU KILLED JAMES AND LILY, DEATH EATER!" Peter was using the last things he had in his reservoir, he was desperate, desperate, desperate.

The muggles were looking on, gaping, in equal parts confusion and alarm.

At this point, aurors had started flooding in on the scene. Black began to whisper with anger, not comprehending Peter's words.

"I'll kill you, I'll fucking kill you, Pe-"

Peter ignored him and screamed louder, panicking.

"LIKE YOU TRIED TO KILL LILY AND JAMES?!" he repeated, frantic.

Peter had never been this scared, not even when he was in the presence of his Master, because as long as he made himself useful, kept his head down, The Dark Lord wouldn't kill him, right? Or so he tried to tell himself. Either way, right now, Peter was in trouble. He idly noticed he was shaking, not that it was anything new. The Dark Lord was very partial to the Cruciatus Curse, Peter had soon discovered. His eyes bulged as James Bloody Potter arrived at the scene. No! Nononononono!

Peter, as it was, was not a particularly talented wizard, by any means. He possessed little in terms of raw power, and even fewer in means of ability. Magic was, also, something strongly based on intention, and if one looked, they would find that Peter possessed little wilfulness.

Yet Peter valued one thing above everything else, if he valued anything other than this. Peter placed great importance in himself. And, looking at James Potter and Sirius Black, Peter found something that he had not known he'd possessed. Blindly, he grasped onto it, not knowing or caring what it was, only that it was a means to escape his predicament. He shoved all his power into his next thoughts. "Let them think it was Sirius, I don't want to die, I don't want to die…"

The details were fuzzy for most, but what happened next was this: there was a massive explosion, unfortunately murdering twelve muggles in its wake, along with one Peter Pettingrew, much to national devastation. The only thing left of the poor lad was his toe, they said.

James Potter, his wife right behind, him confronted Sirius Black with unadulterated fury. . Despite Sirius's incoherent babbling, lies that went along the lines of-

"I didn't do it, Prongs, I didn't! You have to remember, it was Pe-"

"-Don't you DARE say his name, Black! And don't call me that, you filthy Death Eater!"-he was arrested without trial, on the premises of working actively as a Death Eater, and thirteen different murder cases, in front of various witnesses.

No one paid attention to the three-toed rat that limped weakly away from the scene, exhausted.