Disclaimer: NO! I do not own Harry Potter. Stop asking… wait, that was just in my head…. *blushes * nevermind. Anywayz, I don't own it, JKR does folks. And scholastic and warner bros and all those rich peeps. Not poor, broke little ol me!! So, NOW without further delay, the story….
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/Peter
We are not happy with your recent involvement in our lord's downfall. We will be contacting you to receive first hand your full encounter. Try and escape, and we will know where your loyalties lie. /
Peter Pettigrew blanched as he stared at the letter in his hands. It didn't matter that it wasn't signed, he knew full well who it was from. Death Eaters. It didn't matter the specific person. It was Death Eaters, and that was all that mattered.
His betrayal of the Potters, which he had thought would have brought him even closer to the Dark Lord's inner circle, had only made him the prime target former Lord's followers.
He supposed it was his fault. He had made the mistake of announcing to the entire ring of Death Eaters that he could hand He-who-must-not-be-named the Potters on a silver platter. It had seemed ingenious at the time.
He had only wanted them all to respect him. He was always the weak servant, who everyone else either pitied or hated. Even with his friends in school, always tagging along with James and Sirius and Remus. He had hated it then, and he hated it now.
But nothing could change it. He had accepted that long ago. But then an opportunity had arisen, and he had snatched at the chance to prove to everyone that he could do great things. The Potters were the most desired family by the Dark Lord, and Peter had always wished to prove it to the world that he could do something right.
His plan had backfired, though. The Potters had managed to kill the Dark Lord. Somehow. It seemed that none of them had survived, or so Peter had been told, but neither had the Dark Lord.
Now the Death Eaters that had not been caught suspected him, Peter, of betrayal of the Dark Lord. And it was his own damn fault. He was at a loss as to what to do. If he faced the Death Eaters, they would most likely kill him, it didn't matter that he was innocent. Was he innocent? Peter shook his head. He wasn't sure anymore.
But what if he ignored them, and ran. Where would he go where they wouldn't find him? Could Dumbledore protect him? Peter wasn't sure what Dumbledore knew. Could the old man have been informed that James had made Peter his Secret Keeper?
James and Lily had never kept anything from the headmaster before, well, anything of great importance, like Secret Keepers. Becoming an Animagi without the Headmaster knowing didn't count. James had only told Peter that Sirius and Remus could not take on the duties of Secret Keeper, and the burden had to fall on Peter. When Peter had agreed immediately, they had performed the charm, just the three of them and the baby Harry.
He hadn't taken the time to question James' folly. He had been too overjoyed with the fact that after over a full year, he could tell his Lord that he could give him what he most desired. But it occurred to him now that perhaps no one knew of the business of Secret Keeper. Would the Headmaster know? And did he know who it had been?
It was all so confusing. Peter didn't know what to do, or who to trust. He sat at his kitchen table, in the middle of a small cottage, contemplating what to do for a full hour before he moved.
When he did, it was not by his choice. A banging on his door startled the small man into jumping some feet into the air. He looked around hurriedly, expecting men in black cloaks to come swarming in at any moment. When they didn't, Peter knew he couldn't stay here. If it wasn't Death Eaters banging on his door this time, it could be later. He had no one to trust.
But in an instant he made a quick decision.
He could trust one man, whose forgiving nature was well known throughout the Death Eater's circle. Peter knew of at least one man who had gained the trust of the Headmaster in Voldemort's inner circle. Surely if a man of such great import in the Dark order could gain Dumbledore's trust he, Peter could.
It was a simple matter of fooling him. Peter could do it, he was sure. After all, hadn't he tricked his best friends into believing him to be true? Had they not made him, Peter, the great fraud, their Secret Keeper?
Yes, he could fool the old wizard, and, if luck was on his side, James and Lily would have been smart, and told not a soul of the identity of their Secret Keeper. Hopefully. Or everything would be lost for young Peter Pettigrew.
~***~
"I'm sorry to bother you at this early hour, Headmaster, but I needed to talk with you."
Remus Lupin sat in a spiny chair in that circular room that he knew so well, from his years in this school and after. He stared at the professor he had come to trust wholly and think of as a guiding paternal figure, as did most of the wizards who knew him. Remus thought for a moment what it must be like to have that weight on his shoulders, and decided he would certainly not like it.
Remus looked wan, like too many sleepless nights had taken their toll on him.
The wizard in the chair behind the desk looked worse. Dumbledore was grave. His flowing white beard and hair pulled behind him. He gazed at his former pupil, eyes dull, his face giving away no feeling.
"It is quite all right, Remus." The professor gave a small smile, a haunted look with his dull eyes. "It is a professor's job to help those who need it. Please, explain what was dire enough to burst in on an old man so early in the morning." He gave Remus a true smile then, and a small twinkle trickled into the old mans aqua eyes.
Remus, despite himself, returned the gesture, his spirits rising only slightly by his old teacher's ability to make a small joke in such serious times. He paused for a moment, before answering his old teacher's question.
"News, Headmaster," he told him, his smile vanishing, as he remembered why exactly he had come this morning. "I've had a task force searching for Harry. Mudungus, Arabella, Frank… But even with locators, tracers and all, there is absolutely no evidence of the child. It's like he fell of the continent." The worried werewolf was getting frantic, and the professor before him held up a hand.
"Calm yourself, Remus." He murmured, retrieving his wand and muttering a spell. Before him, a silver platter with a steaming teapot accompanied by two teacups appeared at his side. He levitated the tray to his desk near Remus. "Have a cup of tea, dear boy, then explain yourself." Dumbledore gave a reassuring smile. "Madam Pomfrey would box my ears for letting you distress yourself further." Dumbledore nodded to the young man before him, and Remus hesitantly grasped a teacup with shaking hands.
They sipped on their tea for a while, both men reveling in the silence. Remus knew there were most likely calming herbs in the tea, but he no longer cared. Frankly, he thought, he could use them.
When the werewolf appeared calmer and color had returned to his pale features, he set his teacup aside and began again.
"The task force has been searching for Harry since yesterday morning, when I talked to you last," he began slowly, talking softly, and staring at his dragon hide boots. "James and Lily were not stupid. They planned for the worst. When Harry was born, they put all sorts of tracer charms and detector spells on him, his clothes, toys, even his little binky he always sucked on. Whatever happened, they wanted to have some way to know where he was at all times. I believe they told you of all this?" He asked the headmaster, looking at him briefly. The slightest nod from the professor was all he needed to continue.
"Only a few people," his look darkened as a paused for a second, "only a few were able to activate or deactivate these tracers. Myself, Peter Pettigrew, and Sirius." The name sounded forced out of the man's throat, hard a caustic.
"Only us knew how to take them off. My team is finding no traces, whatsoever. My only lead is to believe the traitor took the boy far enough out of our range that we have no hope of detecting him. They would tell us if he was…" Remus sobbed slightly, "We would be able to tell if Harry was killed, the readings would all drop and tell us, but that's not the case." He closed his eyes, not wanting to go on, but knowing he must. Finally he opened his mouth to continue.
"I have to believe that the traitor took the child and is keeping him, alive, for either hostage, which doesn't make sense because their has been no ransom demand, or he took him to raise the child in evil." Here the werewolf shuddered. "Raise Harry in his ways, following the Dark Lord and… well, there you have it."
Remus looked to the headmaster at last, to find the old man's eyes looked deeply troubled. The young man despaired.
"I have none of them left, Albus. I don't even know where Peter is."
At this the old man's bowed head snapped up.
"What did you say, dear boy?" he asked stiffly.
Remus looked up, his eyes glistening. "I couldn't find Peter. He wasn't at home when I went there this morning, just before I came here. I searched his house, and it looked like he had just left all of a sudden. It was strange." The young man sank in his chair. "I have none of them left." He whispered softly, more to himself than the headmaster.
Dumbledore's eyes caught a calculating gaze, and he opened his mouth to say something, but Fawkes, his phoenix companion, gave a loud, sweet trill. Both men in the round office looked quizzically at the large bird, but he did nothing further than stare at the headmaster for a moment.
Dumbledore, though, seemed to make something of this, and turned to Remus again.
"It seems we have a guest," was all he said, before stepping toward the door of the office expectantly.
~***~
Peter, having apparated from his home to Hogsmeade, hurried up the grassy slope to the castle, slipping occasionally, and tumbling only once. He made it to the great oak doors and paused, the look on his face one of debate and fear.
After a moment, however, he seemed to have made up his mind, and tugged the huge doors open. He slid into the small gap slipped into the silent hall. For a moment, the small man wondered at that silence, but a quick look through the door he still held open told him the story.
It was still early morning, the dawn sun just rising over the horizon. Peter shut the door slowly, so as to not break that silence, and ran on.
He went through the halls swiftly, knowing well, the route to his destination. He had certainly gotten into enough trouble in his days at school to memorize the path to the Headmaster's office. He scurried through the halls until he came to an all-too familiar stone gargoyle. Here, Peter Pettigrew froze, hiding in the shadows across the hall, muttering furiously to himself, uncertainty and fear etched into the man's face.
He finally calmed his nerves, steeled his face into a smooth mask, and walked up to the statue. Before he could begin to try and guess the password, usually a random sweet, the stone giant leapt aside, and the moving staircase behind it came into view. Peter stuffed his shaking hands into his robe pockets, and started up those steps, his face schooled into that of innocence and nothingness.
~***~
The sound of the moving staircase startled Remus Lupin, whose eyes were latched onto the door that the headmaster stood in front of in wonder.
The door opened, slowly, revealing a short, slightly balding man, in his mid-twenties.
"Good Morning—" the headmaster began, but was cut off by a shout from behind him.
"Peter!" Remus cried in recognition. He ran to the door, pushing past the headmaster, and hugged his friend tightly before Peter could even step through the doorway. Remus broke the hug quickly, and held Peter by the shoulders, looking him in the face.
"Where have you been?" Remus asked frantically. "I was so worried, Peter! Did you hear what happened? I went to your house. I was searching everywhere for… Just, where have you been?" Remus said all of this very fast, and Peter looked hassled.
Shaking, Peter looked from Remus to Dumbledore quickly, and then back to Remus. His eyes took on a calculating look, and he asked his first question.
"What is going on?" he asked, staring wonderingly at Remus.
"That will all be explained in good time, dear Peter," the Headmaster said, and Peter looked at him quickly.
The Headmaster's aqua eyes had gained their twinkle back fully, and it came to a complete surprise to both Peter and Remus when the old man leaned down and gave Peter a comforting hug.
"Come, Peter." The headmaster gestured to a chair next to Remus', and Peter collapsed gratefully into it.
Dumbledore couldn't help but notice that the werewolf's demeanor had turned completely around. He seemed happy for the first time in many long days, though he could still see traces of sadness in the young man's face, and young Pettigrew's as well. He wondered when the two young men would ever be able to get past the betrayal of one friend and the death of another.
"Thank you, Professor," Peter began. "First off, to answer your question Remus, or one of them," Peter grinned at his old friend. "I was at home, last night and this morning, though I didn't hear you. I must have just missed you." Peter blushed a bit, and turned to Remus. "I am sorry I worried you, old friend." With this Peter leaned over and gave his long time friend a hug.
"No worries, Petey," Remus told him, face solemn, but Peter could detect a slight twitch of his old friend's lips, and he knew that was as close as Remus could come to a smile in times like this. He smiled, despite himself. It really was going to be easy deceiving them.
"Well…"
And he began to tell them his tale, a story of where he had been this past day and explaining his actions, adding pointless minute details here and there. Peter always found that lying, especially to ones close companions, was an art form. One Peter was very good at.
As he spoke, Remus smiled, and the headmaster nodded, his eyes twinkling. Both, Peter realized, were glad to have him back, and suspected nothing. His grin got bigger, and that evil, devious little voice in the back of his head told him it was going to be too easy.
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To be continued…
Well? What do you guys think?
If I get good responses to this, I'll post the rest.
I have a lot of ideas for this fic. It's just really hard to continue stories when I get such minimal reader response.
I really do want to know if it's bad. Constructive criticism is NOT bad, despite how it sometimes hurts. It's better than not getting reviews, ya know!! At least with flamers, I know ppl are reading!!!
So please, if you came this far, just click the wittle square, tell me you read it, and I shouldn't throw my computer and ideas sheets for this fic off a cliff. Or maybe you'll tell me I should. But such is life. Just let me know what you honestly thought!!!
Tootles All!!!
Lady Knight of Kennan
