Harry stared unblinkingly at the cold stone floor. Alone in the changing room, he cut a solitary figure, his knees drawn up to his chest and his head bowed in defeat. He could still hear the crowd screaming, groaning…booing. He could still see the look of disbelief and denial on Oliver's face, as his dream was snatched away from him. Harry could still feel the sting of the rain against his face as it pelted down on the ground. And even now, two hours after the end of the match, he could smell the pungent soil, almost as if he were still down on his knees in the muck. 

*What a difference one inch makes,* thought Harry bitterly. The rest of the team had left, and although they had tried not to show it, they had been crushed.

*They're probably half-drunk at some bar in the middle of nowhere, talking about how much better off they would be without me on the team* brooded Harry. Shrouded in his gloom, he didn't hear the low creak of the door as it opened. A shadowy figure slid into the darkness within the changing room and disappeared, as if by magic, from sight.

*And here I am, sitting alone in the dark,* –he paused to listen, and then frowned as he heard a scuttling sound not far from him– *with nothing but rats to keep me company.*

He shook his head and stood up. He wouldn't sit here in the dank darkness. He was filled with a sense of self-loathing as he cast his eyes around the shadowy changing room. A sudden motion caught his eye and he spun around. His eyes widened in shock, his hand groped instinctively for the wand tucked into his belt. But before he could utter a sound, the wand flew out of his hand as the short, balding man standing opposite him shouted "Expelliarmus!"

            Wormtail caught Harry's wand in his free hand, while continuing to point his own wand at Harry. Harry was suddenly, acutely aware of his solitude, and wished that he had left with the rest of the team. Without his wand, Harry was entirely at Wormtail's mercy.

"An unexpected reward…", Wormtail mused. He smiled sinisterly at Harry as he continued, "The Dark Lord will be pleased…yes, very pleased indeed…How very like a rat you look, Harry Potter, cornered in the dark like this, with no scope for escape." At this he let out a shrill laugh. When he saw that Harry didn't look amused, Wormtail's face darkened.

"How like your father…so arrogant, so secure in your confidence that no harm could possibly befall you. It is a pity," and as he said this, he tightened his grip on his wand, "that you should die in much the same way as he did, but at the hands of one less powerful than the Dark Lord."

            His mind working furiously, Harry fumbled desperately to find something that would give him more time.

"B-but surely Voldemort would want to kill me himself", he stuttered, attempting in vain to speak with some amount of authority. The next thing he knew, he was flying across the changing room. He hit the wall with a chilling crunch, and crumpled to the floor. Wormtail surveyed the motionless body with contempt. "How dare you say the Dark Lord's name?", he spat. Kneeling down on the ground, he pressed his fingers against Harry's neck. He could feel a faint pulse, and he was relieved. Harry Potter had been right. His master, over the previous few years had been consumed by his obsession to destroy The Boy Who Lived. How pleased his master would be to have Harry Potter delivered to him in this fashion. It was more than he could ever have dreamed of. And it certainly meant that the original plan could now be abandoned, a plan that had been full of treacherous holes…a plan whose first step Wormtail had been sent to accomplish that night. Yes, Wormtail was very relieved. He hadn't liked the plan and he hadn't liked "that American" who had formulated the plan, and in doing so, had wormed his way into the Dark Lord's inner circle. 

            He stood up, and began to dust himself off. But when he heard a familiar voice behind him, his arm froze in midair.

"What a pleasure to see you again, Peter. I've waited a long time for this," Sirius snarled, his arm outstretched and his wand pointed straight at Wormtail's chest. Beside him, in much the same stance stood a shabbily clad Remus, a menacing glint in his eyes.

*****