Sixteen Candles : Chapter Four
I took a deep breath, looking each of the four adults in the eye in turn.
"No, you were a werewolf."
Remus looked only mildly surprised, "Was I then? James is right, son – your visions are getting a bit strange."
"So… so none of that happened?" I turned towards Sirius, "Are you still my Godfather?"
His tense features relaxed, "Of course, Harry. Do you really think things have changed that much?"
I shook my head slowly, trying to figure out exactly what was going on. This time… this place… was completely different from the one I knew. Mum and Dad, they were alive, but how? Why was I here? I had made this wish – the wish for my parents to be alive – every single year since I could first grasp the concept, so why now? What was so different?
My eyes wandered over the features of the four adults, taking them in. Everything was different: Mum and Dad were alive, Sirius was happy, and Remus was human. My father, mother, and their friends…
Wormtail.
"Pettigrew? Peter Pettigrew?" I blurted out, eyes widening. Sirius seemed to get the gist of things before Dad, and he shook his head furiously.
"No, no, no Harry… Peter's a good guy in this world, don't you dare think otherwise."
As if on cue, there was another knock on the door. Mum sighed and ran to get it, while I faced the three men in front of me and tried desperately to calm myself down. Who's to say Wormtail wasn't planning on hurting my Mum and Dad?
There was one question I hadn't asked, one question that hadn't been hinted towards, and one question that was vital to this world.
"Dad?" I asked quietly, shuddering at the sound of Pettigrew's voice at the door. "Does Voldemort exist in this world?"
Dad, Remus, and Sirius all got a rather laxed look on their face, as if reliving a memory. It was Remus who spoke first, the soft voice I had come to recognize throughout my third year speaking to me as if I was a two year old child.
"Yes Harry, and he was a very dangerous man."
I cocked my head to the side, "What happened to him?"
Dad stepped forward, dropping down four inches to my level, "He was after us for a very long time, and we did end up using the Fidelius Charm – Peter was our secret keeper, but that's where the similarities end. He was captured by Death Eaters only a week after the charm was performed and put under the Imperious curse and forced to speak."
He took in a deep breath as Pettigrew walked in, and I back away as far as I could from the plump, balding man. Pettigrew noticed this and glanced at me with a look of utter surprise, while my mother took him aside and explained the situation.
"Instead of coming directly to the home, Voldemort staked out nearby and waited until your mother had taken you to the market one afternoon. He – he took you from her and attempted to kill you, but something stopped him. That – " he nodded towards my forehead, " – is why you have that scar."
Involuntarily, my hand went up to the familiar spot on my forehead where my scar was placed.
"So… everything's ok in this world?" I asked slowly, "No Voldemort, Sirius isn't in Azkaban, Professor… you're not a werewolf?"
All three shook their heads, "No."
I nodded, sucking in my breath and slowly turning over to face Peter Pettigrew. "And you're not a Death Eater?"
Peter's eyes widened, "Of course not! Where on Earth would you get that idea, Harry?"
I took a step forward, my eyes narrowing. "Let me see your arm."
His mouth dropped open, "You're kidding? Harry… you know me! You know I'd never join the Death Eaters!"
I crossed my arms, "No, I don't know. I remember you in a world where you were a Death Eater and where you gave your right hand for Voldemort – quite literally, I assure you – and didn't second guess yourself in the least. You gave my parents to Voldemort, you blamed my Godfather, and ran like the coward you are – "
"Harry!" said Mum sharply, "That's quite enough!"
"Sorry, Mum." I said quietly, eyes still locked on Pettigrew. "Please, humour me and show me your arm."
With a sigh, he reached for the right sleeve of his robe and lifted it upwards, exposing the clean, bare flesh. I nodded, briefly glancing at it, and then looked up at him, my expression set in stone.
"Nice. Now, if you don't mind, show me the correct arm."
I took a deep breath, looking each of the four adults in the eye in turn.
"No, you were a werewolf."
Remus looked only mildly surprised, "Was I then? James is right, son – your visions are getting a bit strange."
"So… so none of that happened?" I turned towards Sirius, "Are you still my Godfather?"
His tense features relaxed, "Of course, Harry. Do you really think things have changed that much?"
I shook my head slowly, trying to figure out exactly what was going on. This time… this place… was completely different from the one I knew. Mum and Dad, they were alive, but how? Why was I here? I had made this wish – the wish for my parents to be alive – every single year since I could first grasp the concept, so why now? What was so different?
My eyes wandered over the features of the four adults, taking them in. Everything was different: Mum and Dad were alive, Sirius was happy, and Remus was human. My father, mother, and their friends…
Wormtail.
"Pettigrew? Peter Pettigrew?" I blurted out, eyes widening. Sirius seemed to get the gist of things before Dad, and he shook his head furiously.
"No, no, no Harry… Peter's a good guy in this world, don't you dare think otherwise."
As if on cue, there was another knock on the door. Mum sighed and ran to get it, while I faced the three men in front of me and tried desperately to calm myself down. Who's to say Wormtail wasn't planning on hurting my Mum and Dad?
There was one question I hadn't asked, one question that hadn't been hinted towards, and one question that was vital to this world.
"Dad?" I asked quietly, shuddering at the sound of Pettigrew's voice at the door. "Does Voldemort exist in this world?"
Dad, Remus, and Sirius all got a rather laxed look on their face, as if reliving a memory. It was Remus who spoke first, the soft voice I had come to recognize throughout my third year speaking to me as if I was a two year old child.
"Yes Harry, and he was a very dangerous man."
I cocked my head to the side, "What happened to him?"
Dad stepped forward, dropping down four inches to my level, "He was after us for a very long time, and we did end up using the Fidelius Charm – Peter was our secret keeper, but that's where the similarities end. He was captured by Death Eaters only a week after the charm was performed and put under the Imperious curse and forced to speak."
He took in a deep breath as Pettigrew walked in, and I back away as far as I could from the plump, balding man. Pettigrew noticed this and glanced at me with a look of utter surprise, while my mother took him aside and explained the situation.
"Instead of coming directly to the home, Voldemort staked out nearby and waited until your mother had taken you to the market one afternoon. He – he took you from her and attempted to kill you, but something stopped him. That – " he nodded towards my forehead, " – is why you have that scar."
Involuntarily, my hand went up to the familiar spot on my forehead where my scar was placed.
"So… everything's ok in this world?" I asked slowly, "No Voldemort, Sirius isn't in Azkaban, Professor… you're not a werewolf?"
All three shook their heads, "No."
I nodded, sucking in my breath and slowly turning over to face Peter Pettigrew. "And you're not a Death Eater?"
Peter's eyes widened, "Of course not! Where on Earth would you get that idea, Harry?"
I took a step forward, my eyes narrowing. "Let me see your arm."
His mouth dropped open, "You're kidding? Harry… you know me! You know I'd never join the Death Eaters!"
I crossed my arms, "No, I don't know. I remember you in a world where you were a Death Eater and where you gave your right hand for Voldemort – quite literally, I assure you – and didn't second guess yourself in the least. You gave my parents to Voldemort, you blamed my Godfather, and ran like the coward you are – "
"Harry!" said Mum sharply, "That's quite enough!"
"Sorry, Mum." I said quietly, eyes still locked on Pettigrew. "Please, humour me and show me your arm."
With a sigh, he reached for the right sleeve of his robe and lifted it upwards, exposing the clean, bare flesh. I nodded, briefly glancing at it, and then looked up at him, my expression set in stone.
"Nice. Now, if you don't mind, show me the correct arm."