Disclaimer-I don't own Harry Potter or the song

A/N: In case anybody wonders or cares, I wrote that Wormtail killed Cedric. He did in the book, but Ms. Rowling wrote that ghost Cedric appeared from Voldemort's wand. Maybe Peter was using Voldemort's wand? I think so, because Peter had been a rat for 12 years, so he wouldn't exactly have his wand, would he? Here his been supplied with a new one.

Shout-outs:

Seixe: Thank you!

Blinks: Yep, there's a whole thing about it in my story "The Complex Puzzle Called Love".

Pixie89: For your OC, I'd personally like her with George, because I'm a rabid Harry/Hermione, Fred/Angelina, and Seamus/Lavendar fan, but hey, it's your fic. I confused you? So sorry! Don't worry, by next chapter the O.C. D.A. members will have their own separate identities. I like to fuse everything together because the only problem I find with JKR is that her books are all one-sided to Harry's POV. And about Tonks, I completely forgot that she's a clutz. I'll work on that.

Tales From This Side

Voldemort sat in his emerald-clad chamber, in a hidden valley known as Salazar's Pit. No fool would dare venture into here. Rumors of wizards who entered and never returned because of horrible monsters had been widespread for years, even before the birth of Thomas Marvolo Riddle.

To mutterings along these lines, courtesy of his Death Eaters, Voldemort had replied, "They never return, do they? Then where do you suppose we get the stories from?" Dumbfounded, the Death Eaters had begged his forgiveness for their own stupidity. He had dismissed them with a wave of his hand.

This was a settlement they had built up with their own wands, and a palace surpassing the Black and Malfoy mansions combined had been built for him. He resided alone here, not bothering with anyone. The boldest of his Death Eaters, including Bellatrix Lestrange, wouldn't come here.

That was because of the pink bunnies.

Voldemort smiled to himself. Pink bunnies, where had that come from? Those were things Muggle children, dressed in a fashion they called "Goth", said they were afraid of. He must be growing senile, especially when he knew what Muggle children dressed in black clothes were calling themselves.

Speaking of inferior children.

The Harry Potter boy was beginning to gnaw on his nerves. Voldemort prided himself on his steely patience when executing plans, but he knew that his one major fault was that he hated being foiled. Especially by cocky children who were ever protected by that old fool, Albus Dumbledore.

Voldemort smiled again. How wonderful it had been to torture Oleta into insanity. The old bat had never liked him, not since she had started teaching him in 1945, his first year at Hogwarts. She was always glancing at him from the corner of her eyes. He had hoped that the Basilisk would have gotten her first, but still, getting that annoying Myrtle had been a terrific first murder.

"Murder". It seemed such an ugly word. "Life-taking" and "killing" weren't pleasant for the ear, either. So most Death Eaters opted for "the purification of the wizard race". "Purification" was a nice word.

He didn't care much. A rose by any other name, right? He simply enjoyed the intoxicating power that came with holding a person's life above their heads.

He knew that most people would think him sick and insane, and recommend shock treatments for this thought, but he didn't care much. Murder was a common part of history. Ever since the first cavemen had knocked his rival over the head with a club, mankind had just eaten up murder stories. Everyone claimed it was evil, yet it happened every day.

So, Voldemort had reasoned, the act of killing was a normal, human act, a reflex much like walking.

However, he reasoned he could pick and chose who he killed. Start of with the annoying inferiors, then hit revenge, and then just go on killing until you've had your fill of it. Break it down, organize, be a Virgo. He really didn't have anything against Mudbloods being Mudbloods, but if you wanted people to define you exactly, you might as well just chose one group to terrorize. Racism was another big part of history.

Of course, things hadn't always gone as planned. Inferior beings, idiots with high-sounding ideas, always caused problems and injured your pride. Take Mr. Harry James Potter, and those others he had never bothered learning the names of.

Voldemort's pride was a touchy thing, and when it was injured, he was understandably angry. And he wanted revenge.

Lives were unimportant things, Voldemort reasoned. What did one or two…or even 3, 000 matter? People were like cockroaches. Kill one and another crawls out of the woodwork.

And killing was such a pleasure, too.

He watched as a mouse scampered across the room. Without a second thought, he whipped his wand around and the mouse exploded.

Reminding himself to call Wormtail to clean up the mess later, he settled down in an armchair and dozed. Only typical murderers stayed up all night.

Peter sat, drinking butterbeer, at the table in the little wood house he had clumsily built up to the jeering of Bellatrix and the newly prison-broke Lucius. Well, so what if his construction skills needed work. That wasn't the point of being a Death Eater.

And just what was the point of being a Death Eater, anyway?

He swirled his mug of butterbeer, watching as the butterscotch-colored, thick liquid made lines in upon itself, as he had nothing better to do.

Why had he joined up in the first place? Sure, he was a pure-blood, called "Limmers" by those who were pure-blood but not arrogant about it, like James and Sirius. They had been steadfast Order members.

James and Sirius. At the thought of those names, he cringed. James Adrian Potter, Sirius Hamal Black, and Remus John Lupin. He had betrayed all three of them in his 42-year lifetime. The three people he had counted as his closest friends so many years ago. Two of them dead, one, he guessed, immensely depressed.

For what, he wondered. Why had he thrown away his life for Voldemort? For power? What a joke, Voldemort was the only powerful one here. For respect? Please, every single Death Eater thought him a mosquito on a gaping wound. For this "Purification" nonsense? Peter had never really cared about pure-blood or half-blood. He wouldn't have hung out with Remus if he had.

Out of fear? For all these years, that was the only reason worth staying for. Peter had always wandered why he had been put in Gryffindor. Perhaps he should've been in Slytherin. Even weak-willed Hufflepuffs were credited with more courage than Slytherins.

And he was so afraid of leaving. He knew Voldemort put almost no value on any life besides his own, not even those of his followers. Those not loyal to him would be killed, with as much interest as he had with squashing a bug.

And returning to his old friends? They would kill him, most definitely. Remus would probably kill him before he was within 200 yards of Hogwarts. Perhaps Harry would back him up.

Harry. He had tried not to think about it, but it was horrifying how much he looked like James. In fact, when he had first seen Harry years ago, he had almost expected James to say, "Get a move on, Wormtail, McGonagall will kill us if we're late again!"

Of course, Harry's eyes were Lily's, everyone knew that. Peter remembered how happy those eyes had been when Lily had married James in 1986, when all of them were 24. And again 2 years later, when Harry was born. He could barely imagine what those eyes had looked like just seconds before her death. Terrified and probably tear-filled, after all, James had just died and Harry was probably going to be killed…

He chugged his butterbeer and slammed the empty glass on the table, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Too bad butterbeer wasn't strong. Maybe some firewhiskey would do.

It was so cold.

She sat, curled in a fetal position, in the dark, waiting for the footsteps signaling his approach. Her body was searing with white-hot pain, pounding in her veins just as her blood did. She dug her fingers into her scalp and held her head down. Small pains got rid of big pains, she minded, as her fingernails dug into her skin.

There. There they were. Those footsteps, signaling more pain, more torture, more agony lying in wait for her.

"Hello, dearest."

She shivered, an icy blast giving her fresh goosebumps up and down her arms and legs.

"You know that I hate to do this, but it must be done. The old spell is wearing off, believe it or not. Dolor Secreto!"

She clamped her lips shut and screwed up her eyes, but no matter what she did, she still felt the torment run rampant through her. It felt like hot needles attacking her from the inside, where she couldn't defend herself. It combined with the depressing powers of the Dementors, sucking all the life force from her. It was enough to make anyone beg for death.

A small squeak escaped from between her pressed lips.

Instantly, the onset of pain stopped, leaving her with the lingering torture.

"I hope you've learned to keep your mouth shut? The more silent you are, the longer it takes for the spell to wear off. Do you understand?"

She nodded fervently, her head bobbing so that it almost hit her collar bone.

"Good. Very good, my dear. Take your leave of me."

She got up slowly, some pain still lingering in her calves. She was shaking crazily, her eyes wide open and shot through.

"Oh, that won't do. Descansa."

A pale blue light struck her in the arm, but the spell had no effect on her. She continued to shiver uncontrollably.

"Hmm. Well, I'm out of practice with those "good" charms, aren't I? No matter, you can calm yourself. Just leave."

Slowly at first, and then as fast as she could go, she ran, ran until she could see hide nor hair of him, towards the proverbial light at the end of the tunnel.

"Petunia?"

She jumped at being called by name, and turned around to see…

"Oh, Severus, you startled me."

"What in God's name are you doing up here?"

Petunia glanced out the window. She was at the top of the Astronomy tower, which was more like a balcony than anything, except on top of the school.

"Looking at the stars," she said. "There's an old legend that when a person dies, an extra star is added to the sky. And it's true," she said bitterly. "I see two more stars that I've never seen before."

"I'm…sorry," he said.

"I just haven't been sleeping for the past three nights. Every time I close my eyes I see things."

"Such as?"

"My son, my husband, Lily, Harry, you…us," she added slowly. "I remember us most of all. Maybe it's being back here, maybe it's seeing you again, I don't know, but all I can think about is how we used to be. A year and a half we were together, Severus. That's long for a school romance. I was dating Vernon for six months before he proposed to me, and we got married three months later. I got married at 25 and I had Dudley at 26. I spent 17 years in Little Whinging. That's a lot to have upended less than two months."

"Understandably so." He walked towards her, stopping at the balcony ledge.

"17 years gone, and I have nothing to show for it. My family and half my friends are dead, the others are incapacitated, and my only relative hates me. I am pathetic."

"You're not pathetic, Petunia."

"Severus, stop trying to make me feel all right! I'm never going to be okay again! I am going to have to live with my bad judgment for the rest of my life. I'm going to have to look at myself in the mirror and see what a failure I've been to everyone, including myself. God!" Her last word was a sob.

There was a silence, and then, in a steely tone, he spoke.

"Do you think, Petunia, that you are the only one who has to live with bad judgment? If I hadn't been stupid enough to wander around the halls with you, Malfoy and Narcissa would never have laid their hands on you. You wouldn't have left and I wouldn't have had to join Voldemort, even in espionage."

"Then we're both idiots," Petunia said, with a sardonic voice. "You, at least, didn't leave your entire world and family behind because of stubborn idiocy and self-pity."

"And you, at least, didn't have to work for the most evil wizard since Grindelwald."

They looked at each other for a long time. They were both shadowed in silhouette, the moon bringing light to only their faces.

"Sometimes it's like it was only yesterday, that we stood up here, just talking and kissing and studying for our Astronomy tests," Petunia said softly. "Sometimes…"

Her words lingered in the air for a moment as they continued to gaze at each other. Their minds were transported back 24 years, to the halcyon days of being the laughing 18-year-olds they had been, full of school, friends, and dreams, not knowing where their lives were going and content with that uncertainty, because they were secure in and of themselves and those they loved.

"You never said what you were doing up here," Petunia said.

"I was looking for you. Concern was raised when you weren't anywhere to be found."

"Oh, I see. Well, I'd better be heading back downstairs, shouldn't I? I need my beauty sleep, even if I have no beauty left." She laughed. He did not.

She stopped laughing, but instead of walking towards the stairs, she continued to look at him. All of a sudden, her face fell. The eyes that had held up a brave façade sagged into the depression that was flowing with her very blood. The lines in her face showed visibly in the moon light, her mouth drooped, and her hands weighed heavy at her sides.

"Severus, please…"

"What?"

"Just…just hold me for a little while, okay? Just for two minutes. Please."

He was shocked. Petunia, the woman he hadn't seen for a score and 4 years, who had left his life on the worst possible note, who had only recently been widowed, was asking for him to comfort her for all the years lost. It was crazy, it was absurd…

He lifted his hands slightly, just enough to show her that he had given his consent.

"Thank you."

She walked slowly towards him and into his arms, wrapped her own arms around his back, leaned her head against his collar bone, and stood there for an eternal two minutes and more, as the last crickets of the season began to chirp and the clouds floated away, leaving only the large moon and bright stars to shine against the backdrop of the sky.

"Oh my God, Lynn, would you please stop it!" Marcie yelled, throwing a pillow at the ever-pacing Lynn Windward.

Lynn dodged the pillow, picked it up off the floor, and flung it back at Marcie.

"PLEASE don't tell me you're still upset about what Ron said at lunch." Marcie sat up from her lying position on the couch and hugged the pillow to her chest.

"Yeah, and over DRACO! Please tell me that it's just a phase," Ann said.

"It's not!" Lynn said, blushing furiously.

"Come on, Lynn, if any Gryffindor should be with Draco, it's so obviously Ron!" Ann yelled.

"SHUT UP!" both Lynn and Ron yelled furiously. (A/N: One of my friends actually thinks that. I definitely don't, though)

"Guys, lay off her, I'm thinking," Bennie muttered. She was proofreading her homework from the floor.

"Lay off what?"

The portrait hole swung open and Hermione walked in the room.

"The girls are teasing Lynn for liking Malfoy," Ginny said distractedly. She was immersed in her Transfiguration book, studying for the O.W.L.'s that seemed so much closer this side of summer.

Hermione bit her lip, unsure of whether or not to reprimand the girls as part of her prefect's duty, even if Malfoy was a slimy, sleazy son of a…but Hermione wouldn't go that route.

"Why DO you like him, anyway?" Seamus asked. He and the other boys had retreated to a corner of the room away from the girls, who had spread themselves out all over the floor of the Gryffindor common room, which had been nicknamed the "Lion's Den".

"I don't know why, I just do!" Lynn yelped.

"Let's look at all the things girls generally go for in boys," Marcie said, waving her wand. "Escribo." Words began to form in mid-air. "Let's see. Intelligent. Let's give him half a point for that."

".5" appeared next to the word "Intelligent".

"Funny. Nope."

An "x" crossed over the word "Funny".

"How about "Good-looking"?"

"Another "x" for that," Ann laughed, sending an "x" through "Good-looking".

"Rich. Well, we can give him that."

A check mark appeared next to the word "Rich".

"And "single". He's dating that cow Pansy Parkinson, so nothing there, and besides, Elizabeth has her eye on him." "Single" was crossed out. "Out of a possible 5 points, he received a measly, embarrassing, humiliating, kick-yourself-in-your-own-stupidity 1.5. He IS the weakest link, good-bye!" Marcie squawked.

"You are such a dork, Marcie," Corrine said.

"Hey, this dork beat everyone except Hermione out in the Ancient Runes O.W.L.…and that was a bad comeback," Marcie said, grinning in mock self-deprecation.

"And you, missy, where have you been?" Corrine asked, looking at Hermione. "Been snogging that boyfriend of yours?"

Hermione's face turned pink. "No!"

"Where is Harry, anyway?" Bennie asked, looking up from her homework.

"He's still in the Room of Requirement, looking up on the Unforgivables. Some of the others are with him."

"Hey, we should be there, too," Marcie said, putting the pillow aside. "And let's hit up the Badger's Hole, the Eagle's Nest, and the Snake's Pit on our way there. The whole D.A. should be in on this."

"Guys, move your butts," Lynn called. "We're going to the Room of Requirement."

There was much muttering amongst the guys as they picked themselves up reluctantly.

"Mudblood-lovers! Blood traitors! Shame of the wizarding race! How dare you besmirch the noble house of Salazar Slytherin! How dare you—"

"SHUT UP!" Elizabeth yelled, throwing her Study of Ancient Runes book at one of the portraits, labeled Cassiopeia Black, in the Snake's Pit, AKA the Slytherin common room. Cassiopeia screeched loudly and disappeared.

"Thanks, Elizabeth," Anais said from her spot on the floor. Joan was sitting on the couch behind her, braiding her hair. Linda and Tony were lazing on various seats.

"Her words are like music to my ears," a silky voice said, and Draco appeared from the stairs.

"Then you're tone-deaf," Joan answered nastily.

"Cassiopeia is right," a screechy voice shrieked, and Pansy appeared right next to Draco. "You are blood traitors and Potter-lovers. You don't belong in Slytherin!"

"That's funny. I'd think the Sorting Hat knows a bit more than you do," Joan said coldly.

Pansy glared. She whipped out one of the old "Potter stinks" badges and pressed it. "Sunset sucks" blared in green light across the room.

"Pansy, has anyone ever told you that you are in desperate need of a hobby?" Tony asked distractedly.

"Mudblood-torture is my hobby!" Pansy screeched, whipping out her wand.

In an instant, Joan was on her feet, her own wand pointed at Pansy. Elizabeth's wand was in her hand. Anais, Linda, and Tony were fishing for their wands.

"You're outnumbered," Joan said, in a steely tone.

"Be a good girl and put your wand away, dearest cousin Pansy," Elizabeth said, grinning nastily.

"You're not my cousin!" Pansy snarled. "The Attisons and the Parkinsons have severed all ties!"

"And I'm sure they're all terribly sad about it," a brand-new voice said sarcastically.

"Gryffindors! What are they doing in our common room?" Pansy screeched, pointing as the portrait whole swung shut behind Marcie.

"Anais gave us the password," Marcie said. "Guys, we're going to the R. O. R. to look up some stuff on the Unforgivables. Wanna come with?" She held up a stereo-esque box. "Brought my wireless."

"I'll come," Tony offered, standing up. Anais and Linda stood up, too.

"Yeah, whatever," Elizabeth said.

"Joan, you coming?" Marie said.

"Yeah, give me a minute." Joan's eyes were still on Pansy and Draco.

Elizabeth lingered as Marcie left with Tony, Linda, and Anais. Only after the portrait hole was shut did anyone speak.

"You're forgetting who you're related to, Sunset," Draco said softly.

"Who I'm related to means nothing. And you can bite me, Malfoy," she returned coldly.

Elizabeth pursed her lips in amusement. "Language, language, Joan," she said in a sing-song voice. Carelessly, she walked up to Draco and put her arms around him. "Don't talk that way about my Draco."

"YOUR Draco!" Pansy screeched.

"Yes, mine." Grinning maliciously, she planted a light kiss on Draco's cheek. "'Later, darling."

Roughly shoving Pansy aside, she and Joan walked out of the Snake's Pit and followed the impatiently waiting others to the Room of Requirement.

"The gang's all here," Thomas said, looking up as Marcie and the Slytherins entered.

The Room of Requirement had opened itself up to fit 39 people accordingly, filled with big, stuffed armchairs. Couples had sanctioned off to sit with each other, and groups of friends were all sitting around chairs, two of them per group having a silent battle over which would claim it as his or her own.

"Set up the WWN," Elizabeth ordered.

Without even thinking about it, Marcie sent her WWN onto a table. Music began playing softly.

"I love that thing. It's like a Muggle CD player," Marcie said, settling in next to Lynn and Emmanuela and picking a book up from the pile inside their circle, entitled Dark Arts and Those Who Use Them.

""All the best in Magic and Muggle music"," Anita quoted, grinning.

Harry hadn't really taken into consciousness what Anita had said, but more of the context with which she had been speaking. His days had been filled with depression, death, loss, and tears. And suddenly, 19 new people had been thrust into his life, filled with smiles and laughter. It was a refreshing tonic to see some human life again.

"Nice, isn't it?" Hermione said, as though reading his mind. The two of them had been sharing a seat, Hermione sitting on the armrest. "They're all normal, these people. They're HAPPY."

"That won't last for long," Harry said, suddenly bitter. "Just wait until their families start dying. They'll be outta here like bats outta Hell…"

"Harry, the best will stick around," Hermione said patiently. "The entire wizarding world is expecting you to play Jesus. But even Jesus had his disciples."

"A good many of them abandoned him," Harry said, with a playful one-up tone. "One betrayed him."

"Well, a good few were faithful," Hermione retorted. "Anyway, history never EXACTLY repeats itself, does it?"

"No…I suppose not," Harry said, opening up the book. Hermione leaned over, her elbow resting on his shoulder, and read with him.

"Luna, can you shut the window?" Ron asked.

Luna looked up from the book she had been reading. "I like the fresh air, Ron. But you're right, I should. I don't want the Beefer Bugs getting in."

"The WHAT?"

"Beefer Bugs. Bettle-like insects that eat bits of skin if you let them."

"…Okay," Ron said slowly.

Luna got up and shut the window, and then settled back into her book.

"What are you reading?"

"Dark Arts Defeated," she answered promptly. "It's a favorite. I almost like it as much as The Quibbler."

Ron refrained from commenting, just nodding.

"I hate the Dark Arts," Luna said suddenly, while Ron was in the process of pulling a book from the shelf.

"Yeah, I do too," Ron said bitterly. "I just lost two brothers because of it. So did my mother," he added, thinking of Gideon and Fabian Prewett, the uncles he would never know.

"And I; my mother."

Ron turned around, looked confused. "But Harry said your mother died in an accident."

Luna looked ready to slap herself. Her face turned bright red.

"I lied," she said slowly. "The explosion was caused by Dark wizards. Daddy nearly went insane over it."

"I'm really sorry."

"It's not your fault," Luna said.

"I guess that's why he's in the Order now, huh?"

"…Yes, I suppose so."

Ron surveyed Luna. Had she changed over the summer, or was he just seeing things? Why did she seem just a little less crazy and a little more…pretty?

"Ron? Why are you staring at me?"

"I'm not staring at you. Why would I stare at you? Are you cold?" he blurted out unexpectedly

"A little," Luna said.

"Why don't you go get a sweater?"

"I don't have any."

Ron thought of his own dorm, where he had accumulated 15plus year's worth of Weasley sweaters. Then he looked at Luna, and noticed how skinny and pale she actually was.

"Want one of mine?"

"One of yours?" she repeated.

"Yeah. I have a thousand, anyway. Losing one won't hurt." He pulled out his wand.

"That's a nice wand," Luna commented.

"Lime tree, 13 inches, unicorn hair," Ron said briefly. "Accio sweater!"

"Mine's made from the Rowan tree. It's 12 inches and it has a unicorn hair, too."

"That's cool," Ron said, as the door cracked open slightly and a sweater, with the letter "R" and a Gryffindor lion stitched onto it, flew across the room and into his hands. The other D.A. members looked up inconspicuously at where the sweater was headed, hid smirks, and returned to their work.

"Thank you, Ron," Luna said. She unclasped her Ravenclaw robe and pulled the sweater over the shirt and tie she had on underneath. She picked up her discarded robe and hooked the clasp, though unconsciously making sure that the "R" was still showing.

Ron's face was nearly as red as his hair. "No problem, Luna."

She smiled lightly at him, and then returned to her book.

"Petunia, I do believe that's the 9 o'clock curfew," Snape said, as bells rang throughout the grounds.

"Well, we're teachers, we can break curfew, can't we?" Petunia asked, smiling even though tears were running down her face. She was still hanging on to him.

"The Dark Lord is waiting for us to make a wrong move," Snape said, but he was smiling too, or at least trying to. Every time he tried to smile it turned out like a smirk or made small children run away screaming.

She sighed. "Severus, why can't it be like it was before?"

"Because this is life. It changes. Not always for the better."

She sighed again. "I guess you're right. We just have to make the most of it while we're here, won't we?" She stepped back, wiped tears from her face, and smiled bravely. "Thanks for comforting me, Severus. I feel a bit more like the witch Petunia Evans and less like Kill-everything-magical Petunia Dursely."

She found his hand, squeezed it, and then made her way towards the ladder that led down to the 7th floor.

And he, once again, stared after her, wondering what exactly had happened to Petunia Evans when they had been apart.

I'm falling in love with the Petunia/Snape pairing! I love portraying their human sides.

Also, I just recently discovered that Molly is a Prewett and have made changes accordingly. Does anyone now if they were her brothers or cousins or whatever? I've made them out to be her brothers.