Chapter 4: Decision
Severus Snape shivered, and then wondered why.
Odd. Under normal circumstances, I do not shiver.
Usually he simply chose to ignore the cold and behave as though the room was a comfortable temperature for him. Besides being practice in the important art of self-control, it was a useful skill for the Potions Master, since chilling the dungeon was a surefire technique for keeping his classes from turning into riots.
Especially the ones with Potter and Malfoy involved.
But this was something else. The room was a bit chilly, but not nearly enough to pierce his control. Bellatrix and Narcissa were talking quietly at the table, heads bent over a piece of parchment. Neither of them looked at all cold. Wormtail was huddled up in the corner, staring at a piece of wall just beside Snape.
He's been staring at corners a lot in the last week. As if he expects to see something.
But that was beside the point. The temperature in the room was acceptable, and nothing unsettling was happening.
Nothing unsettling, besides waiting for the arrival of a temperamental and evil wizard who likes to torture his followers if they don't do exactly what he expects.
Snape ruthlessly suppressed his usual tendency for snide comment making when around the Dark Lord. As a result, his mind worked overtime to come up with really excellent lines that, of course, he couldn't use at the time. Some of his best jabs at Potter had come from unused cracks at Voldemort.
This is getting me nowhere.
He jerked his mind back to the subject at hand. It took him a moment to remember what, exactly, was the subject at hand.
Ah. Yes. I was wondering why I was shivering, given that none of the correct conditions to induce such an act exist.
Wormtail emitted a series of odd coughing noises which, in any of his students, Snape would have identified as poorly disguised laughter. However, Wormtail was not much given to laughing, so Snape ignored him, turning back to his task of potion labeling.
He may be ill, or trying to attract my attention for some reason beyond my comprehension. In either case, I am not interested.
-----
Wormtail was not trying to attract Snape's attention – in fact, he was very much hoping to avoid that attention – and he was not ill, at least not physically so. He was, as Snape had surmised but dismissed, attempting to keep himself from laughing aloud, laughter not being a sound often heard at the headquarters of Lord Voldemort.
The ghostly form of Sirius Black was standing beside Severus Snape, peering over his shoulder, making comments about Snape's appearance and intelligence. Most of the comments were incomprehensible to Peter – he supposed they were over his head – so he wasn't laughing at them. What he was fighting to keep from reacting to was the fact that for the past five minutes, Sirius had been giving Snape "bunny ears".
It was a losing battle.
"Let us begin," said the familiar voice of his Master, and all thoughts of laughter were driven from Wormtail's head.
Voldemort seated himself at the head of the long table. The six young people who had followed him into the room took seats along the sides. Four boys, two girls – Wormtail knew Draco Malfoy, the younger Crabbe and Goyle (is it Vincent and Gregory, he wondered, or Gregory and Vincent? I can never remember) and Theodore Nott, but neither of the girls was familiar to him. From the way the more attractive one was stroking Draco's arm, though, she was probably his girlfriend. The other girl, more thickset, had tried to get a seat next to the Nott boy, but he had gotten away from her, and she was seated between Crabbe and Goyle, looking grouchy.
"The latest additions to our ranks," Voldemort said, waving a hand towards them. "Young, perhaps, but with scores of their own to settle with Potter and his followers."
"That's my Harry," Sirius said approvingly, floating up to sit cross-legged on the end of the table. "Never takes it when he can dish it out instead."
Oh no. He's going to stay for the meeting. It was bad enough yesterday when he sat on the ceiling for an hour singing "Kumbaya". How am I going to live through this?
"They have all sworn allegiance to me, and they are to be treated as full members of our group," Voldemort continued. "Now, Narcissa, you will begin. A full briefing on our latest undertaking for these new Death Eaters."
"Very well, my Lord. Two days from now, at sunset, we attack the property known as Number Four Privet Drive, in the town of Little Whinging in Surrey. The home of Harry Potter."
"No, the residence of Harry Potter," Sirius said with some annoyance. "It's not his home, he hates the place."
Narcissa went on, but Peter was listening to Sirius. Why would Harry Potter hate his own home?
"His relatives think he's a freak, they starve him and make him do all the housework. He was willing to leave there and come live with me not even half an hour after he almost tried to kill me." He grinned at Peter. "I'm sure you remember that night, Wormtail."
Peter gave a tiny nod, his mind spinning dazedly. He remembered that night very well. The night when Harry Potter, for some reason Peter had never been able to fathom, had persuaded his old friends to spare his life.
The boy grew up with what sounds like abuse, and he still pleaded for me?
Why?
His nickname caught his ear. Guiltily, he jerked his attention back to the other end of the table.
"... Wormtail, with Millicent and Vincent, will attack from the southeast."
The thick girl and the Crabbe boy both swiveled their heads to look at him. He had the uncanny feeling they were sizing him up.
"While we have the wards on the house thus fully engaged, and so weakened, the Dark Lord will take the potion Severus Snape has brewed, heightening his blood ties to Potter and allowing him to pass the blood magic wards..."
"Yes, yes, we've heard it all before, death and destruction, thank you very much," Sirius said with a weary sigh. "Come on, get to the good part, I could use a laugh."
"Once the Potter boy is dead, there will be nothing to stop the Dark Lord from rising to power, first in our land, then in many others. He will reign supreme on earth, forever!"
Sirius fell backwards through the table, hooting with laughter, only to reemerge a moment later directly in front of Voldemort. "You're too ugly to live forever," he said in between guffaws. "And too stupid to rule the world. Honestly, Wormtail, I thought even you were smarter than this." He waved a hand in Narcissa's direction. "She sounds like something out of one of those romance novels my mother used to leave lying around. One of the villains, the kind that twist their mustaches and cackle a lot."
He vanished through the table again, but before Peter could even conceive of Narcissa having a mustache, he was back, lying on his stomach about a foot above her head on nothing at all. "No, I take that back. She's not even a villain – she's one of the villain's stupid peons. Every villain has to have really stupid peons working for him, and one of them always messes something up so the good guys can come galloping in and save the day."
Is that how he thinks of me? As a stupid – whatever-he-called-it?
And Harry Potter spared my life, without ever having known mercy himself.
This is too much for me. I'm no good at thinking. I need someone to tell me what to do, then I can do it.
I guess that means I'm stupid. But I can't help it...
"Wormtail!"
Peter jumped about a foot. "Y-y-yes, my Lord?"
"Kindly pay attention to the topic under discussion," Voldemort said. "Or I will see to it that you are in no condition to pay attention to anything for some time to come."
Peter nodded fervently. But in his mind, odd things were beginning to happen.
He was beginning to think, as unusual as that was for him, and his thoughts were trending, more and more, towards one conclusion.
I have a chance to do something good.
Maybe I should take it.
After all, what do I have to lose?
Only my life... and that's not much.
Not the way it is.
-----
When the meeting finally concluded about an hour later, Peter met Sirius' eyes, nodded, and looked upwards. Sirius nodded back, careful to keep his face straight. He wants to talk. Maybe he's made up his mind... I hope so...
And I hope he hasn't made it up to say no!
"I'll do it," Peter said as soon as he was safely in the room with the door shut.
"You'll do it? Go to the Ministry and through the veil?"
"Yes."
"Excuse me a moment," Sirius said, stepped through the door, and did the patented Padfoot's Mad Jig of Delight.
YESYESYESYESYESYESYESYES!!!
He came back into the room looking perfectly calm. "When will you go?"
"Now." Peter was fastening on a hooded cloak, smart, Sirius realized, since supposedly he was dead, and therefore his sudden appearance at the Ministry would cause some surprise. "The sooner I go, the sooner it's over with."
"True." Sirius was longing to ask what had brought about this sudden change of mind – Peter had been resisting his blandishments for an extremely long seven days now – but he feared that asking might bring about another change, just as sudden but with results he liked far less.
"I know I can't Apparate directly into the Department of Mysteries," Peter said, sitting down on his bed. "Just into the Atrium. So I'll have to go from there on foot." He groaned, shaking his head. "No, it'll never work. I'll have to get my wand weighed, and someone will see me and realize who I am, or at least that I shouldn't be there..."
"You need a diversion," Sirius said. "Something to take the heat off you."
"You can't do it," said Peter. "You can't touch anything, can you?"
"Nothing physical... wait a second. Try casting some kind of spell."
Peter pulled his wand out and waved it at a book across the room. "Wingardium Leviosa!"
The book swayed and rose into the air. Sirius looked at it and concentrated.
The book fell to the floor. Peter yelped.
"Thought so," Sirius said triumphantly. "I can't affect physical things - but I can mess with magic. There's bound to be something magical there I can screw up."
"If anyone can screw things up, Padfoot, it's you," Peter said, pulling the hood of his cloak up.
"Coming from you, Wormtail, that's rich. I'll see you there."
Sirius took dog form and bounded away as Peter Disapparated.
-----
"This isn't going to work," Peter said behind his newspaper.
"Yes it is."
"No it isn't."
"Yes it is. Trust me."
"Why?"
"Because I said so. Just get ready."
"Fine."
Sirius walked over to one of the row of Floo fireplaces.
Have to time it just right, I don't want to hurt anyone...
A spinning form appeared in one of them. As the short, portly wizard clambered out of the fireplace, Sirius reached out as he had in Peter's room and negated the magic of the Floo powder. The flames instantly turned yellow and caught the man's cloak on fire.
Hey, bonus points – it's Fudge!
The Minister of Magic walked nonchalantly across the Atrium.
For about three steps.
Then the screaming began.
Within seconds, everyone in the hall was watching Fudge roll over and over on the floor, trying to put the flames out. Including the wizard on duty at the wand-weighing desk.
Peter walked right through with no trouble.
-----
"Now what?" Sirius said, floating next to Peter in the spinning room.
"Concentrate on the room we need," Peter said.
"And hope there aren't any Unspeakables already there."
Peter nodded. The doors had begun to spin around them, faster, faster, slowing down...
Sirius went through the door before Peter had taken three steps. "This is it!" he called. The stone arena with the archway in its center looked just as he remembered it.
And I hope it is the last time I ever see it!
And, for a small miracle, no one else was in the room. Peter would be able to go through the veil unobserved.
Well, except by me.
He noticed that Peter was sweating quite a bit.
"Are you all right?"
"No, I'm not all right," Peter snapped. "I'm about to kill myself. How all right would you be?"
"You have a point."
"Do Lily and James hate me?" Peter asked abruptly.
Sirius blinked. "You know, they never said... but I got the feeling that hate isn't what they spend much time on, over there. They may be pretty mad at you, but you're doing the best thing you can possibly do right now. I wouldn't be surprised if they at least came to meet you, say hello to you. You were their friend for longer than you weren't. And in time, who knows? You might make up after all."
"Time." Peter laughed nervously. "We'll have lots of time. All of eternity."
"Even James can't hate you for all of eternity," Sirius said. "Most of it, probably. But not all. Lily'll talk him around, eventually. Of course, she may be pretty mad in the beginning, too..."
"Better to get it over with quickly, then," Peter said, as resolutely as he could, beginning to walk towards the veil. His shoulders were shaking, but his steps were firm. "Goodbye, Sirius. Please, tell Harry and Remus that I'm sorry for the way everything turned out."
"I think your actions will speak for that, Peter. I have to admit, I always wondered if the old Hat made a mistake, but it seems you're a Gryffindor after all."
"I... I guess I am," Peter said with a small, tentative smile. "I guess this... is a brave thing to do."
"Very brave," Sirius said firmly. "The bravest. Goodbye, Peter, and good luck."
Peter Pettigrew stepped through the veil.
Sirius felt himself pulled through as well. For one timeless moment, he floated in a kind of fog, and just for an instant, as through a curtain, he saw three figures, waving to him... Lily on the left, James on the right, and in the middle, smiling with incredulous joy, Peter...
But before he could wave back, he felt a tremendous jerk behind his navel, and he was catapulted upwards and outwards...
... to land on the floor of the stone arena on his hands and knees, panting as if he'd just run from London to Hogwarts.
On the floor. I can feel the floor.
I can feel my breath.
I'm alive!
Quickly, he took inventory. His wand was still in his hand, miraculously unbroken in his hard landing – everything he'd had in his pockets was still there – and I don't particularly need a shave or a shower or anything.
But I could sure use one.
Where should I go? Grimmauld Place may be a bad idea, I could run into Order members, and I don't particularly want to get into long explanations right now. Why don't I hit Moony's place? It's only about 4 o'clock, he never gets back until at least 6...
But first I have to get out of here without being caught! I'm still a convicted felon, turn over to nearest Dementor to kiss on sight, here...
He hit himself in the forehead. Hard.
You have a wand, idiot. Use it.
Disillusioned, he felt much better.
Hmmm. Bet you anything they've still got old Kingsley looking for me.
That gives me an idea...
-----
Kingsley Shacklebolt came into his cubicle and stopped short, causing Nymphadora Tonks to run into him.
"What's wrong?"
"Whoever you are," Kingsley said with a great deal of annoyance, "get your damn feet off my damn desk."
"Just a damn minute," said the man behind the newspaper, folding it up so that they could see his face.
Tonks screamed. Kingsley stared.
"I thought I fit in nicely with your décor," Sirius Black said cheerily, and Disapparated.
After all the surrounding workers had been reassured that it was only a mouse, only a mouse she was screaming at, Tonks sank weakly into a chair. "It can't have been him. It can't. He's dead."
"Maybe," said Kingsley, his eyes resting on the picture of the Potters' wedding. "But I can tell you this. Dead or not, when I see him next, I'm going to kill him."
Something crackled under his hand. He looked down.
A sheet of parchment, covered in handwriting not his own, looked back at him. It was titled Attack on Privet Drive Imminent – Warn Dumbledore.
"Tonks, do you know what his handwriting looks like?"
"Sirius'? Yeah. Why?"
This is going to be an interesting couple of days.
-----
(Well, here it is at long last! Sorry about the wait, but EC has a slot on my schedule now, so it's going to be over pretty soon... I only ever planned it to be about 10 chapters long, maybe not even that. But there's plenty of fun yet to come, don't you worry!
Oh yes, and a random thought: Writing Snape is like writing a Vulcan. A mean Vulcan. (OK, who watches too much Star Trek? Me me me!)
MAndrews: Because I am. What's your novel about?
Caprice-Ann HedicanKocur: Just for you, I sent Wormtail off a whole three days early! I know, you may not agree with me on the redemption aspect, but hey, if freaking Darth Vader can get redeemed, why not our little Petie?
emikae: Love you! You're such a great reviewer! So faithful! And you even like my friend's work! (My friend writes as whydoyouneedtoknow and she says you're really nice and very perceptive. I concur.)
Chapter 5, "Cave Canem", coming soon to a website near you! Hugs and an Astute Fan Award to the first reviewer who tells me what the title means!)