Obligatory Notice: It ain't mine. It's JK Rowling's. You might have heard of her. She's a way better writer than me, why are you reading this crap?

Quiet, children. I know it is time for more of our story. Yes, tonight the moon is in its last stage before it will become full. Very good.

So far I have focused mainly on Sirius Black and Remus Lupin. Tonight, they are in the story as well. They couldn't not be. But tonight I will begin with the story of another boy, a boy who affected the lives of his friends in many ways.

Tonight, I will begin with the story of Peter Pettigrew.

"Pettigrew, Peter!"

A small, blonde boy jumped wildly at the sound of his name, then promptly turned bright red. He had been busy staring at the ceiling and wondering what all those stars were, and how on earth they had done that, and if he would ever be able to do it. He had just made up his mind to ask someone as soon as he could when that sharp, demanding voice punctured his thoughts.

Quickly, he stumbled up to the hat, horribly afraid that he was wasting time. He had to stop daydreaming like that! One of these days he was going to get in loads of trouble. The nervous, fluttery feeling which had subsided while he was staring at the sky came back in full blast as he lifted the hat, painfully aware of all the eyes focused on him as he slipped the thing onto his head.

"Oh, difficult...very difficult," said a voice. Peter jumped out of his skin for the second time in two seconds. "Who are you? Where are you? Wha--

There was the sound of chuckling. "No need to be afraid," the voice said, "I'm just a hat, after all."

Peter's fear was shoved to the side at this information. Am I the only one who can hear you? he thought incredulously, How? Do they teach us here? I--

"My, you've got a sharp mind. Very curious, definitely...when you want to be," the hat added. "But you don't do too well in school, do you?"

Peter felt his face turn red. It's not my fault! he thought frantically, I tried, but...

"You just didn't understand," the hat finished. "Well, let's see, what else...a healthy amount of fear...and dear me, no self-esteem whatsoever. No friends, is that the story? No one liked you? Why not?"

His stomach dropped out at the memory. Everyone at his old school had made fun of him for his hair, his clothes, the way he talked...what was wrong with the way he talked, anyway? It was English, right? And anyway, if they hadn't made fun of him, maybe he wouldn't stutter...stupid idiots. If the teachers hadn't stuck up for him sometimes, he would have been totally miserable.

"Ah, I see," the hat said wisely, "My, my. You do seem to run with whoever's the strongest, don't you? Well, Peter, you've got a lot of potential, if you use it right. But Peter--a bit of advice to you? Choose your friends carefully. And don't be afraid to use your courage. It will be a great aid to you if you can find it and use it properly. Do you understand?"

I--I think so, Peter replied, even though he had no idea what the hat was talking about.

"All right then. Better be GRYFFINDOR!"

Peter heard the word being shouted to the whole Hall, and he slid the hat off his head and turned to scamper towards the Gryffindor table.

"Why, hello!" Peter found himself face to face with one of the happiest, blackest pair of eyes he'd ever seen. "That was brilliant!"

"It--it was?" Peter said in confusion.

The other boy nodded enthusiastically. "Two minutes! I bet yours was the longest Sorting! What's your name?"

"Peter," he managed to gasp.

"I'm Sirius," said Sirius, "Isn't the sky cool?"

Peter blinked, surprised at this rapid switch in topic, and found his voice stuck in his throat. "Yeah," he managed, "I wonder how they did it," he added, more to himself than to Sirius.

"No idea," Sirius said cheerfully, "I just think it's cool. Isn't the moon pretty?"

"Waxing Gibbus," muttered a boy to Sirius' left.

Sirius shot him an odd look. "Whatta what? Oh, hello, James."

Peter looked up in shock to see another black-haired boy slide into the seat next to him. "Hi, Sirius," he said, eyes sparkling with excitement. "Who's your friend?"

"Says his name is Peter," Sirius said for him.

"Hi Peter, I'm James," James said cheerfully. "Don't let Sirius bother you, he's a dolt," he added, ducking Sirius' punch.

"Oh, this is Remus," Sirius said suddenly, gesturing to the short, sandy-haired boy sitting next to him, the one who had said something about the moon, "We met on the train," he added, by way of explanation.

"Hello," said Remus, "Just to warn you, don't believe a word Sirius says, he's probably lying. I've learned that much."

"You have?" Peter said, feeling his head spin.

James snorted loudly. "This idiot here tried to tell Remus his father is dead, his mother is in a mental institution, and he's been raised by his aunt who's been married six times, including one marriage with Albus Dumbledore, and another with Nicolas Flamel."

"Who?"

"Alchemist," Remus said calmly, "Old alchemist. Six hundred some odd."

"Six hundred?" Peter said incredulously.

"Yep. So, don't believe anything he says," James summed up.

"I'll remember," Peter said, finding himself unable to do anything but grin.

"WHY doesn't anyone like me!" Sirius said, folding his arms and pouting.

"Because you're an insufferable git," James said promptly.

"Love you too, Potter."

"Thanks for sharing," Remus cut in.

Peter couldn't help it. He laughed.

James reached sleepily for the copy of the Daily Prophet, and looked at it through sleep-laden eyes. Then he sighed heavily. "There's been another one," he said thickly, through a mouthful of toast.

No one asked what he was talking about. There had been a string of killings spread over the last few days, and while it was rumored that some psychopath group was behind the attacks, no one was quite sure who it was. They did know one thing: after every killing, a bright green mark, a skull with a snake in its mouth, was left hanging over the attack.

Peter swallowed nervously. "W-w-who w-was it?" he stuttered, then mentally cursed himself. He could never speak clearly when he was scared.

James sighed again. "They don't know. Do they ever?" He added, unable to keep the bitterness out of his voice.

"No," Sirius said darkly, reaching for the pumpkin juice. "Remus, gimme the butter."

"So polite," Remus said sarcastically, handing the plate of butter to his friend.

Just then, Peter happened to look up at the Slytherin table. Lucius Malfoy and his cronies were all gathered around a newspaper, talking excitedly. Peter gulped, and tugged on James' sleeve.

"What?" said James, following Peter's gaze. When he saw what his friend was looking at, his mouth hardened into a tight, thin line. "Bet they know who's behind it," he muttered grimly, nodding towards the group of Slytherins.

Sirius looked up, and a dark shadow fell over his face. "Bastards," he said under his breath, then brightened. "They'll get what's coming to them, never fear. Just wait til next year, when we're out of Hogwarts, they'll see."

Peter couldn't help but swallow again. Sirius sounded so...sure. But...well, what if he was wrong? What if they didn't get what was coming to them? He looked up at them again, studying their faces intently. They looked so excited. What were they excited about? Peter shuddered, deciding he didn't want to know.

"Sirius, please don't tell me you think you can single-handedly beat Voldemort," Remus said calmly, reaching for the jam.

"No, but I can help. And so can you, and James, and even Peter.

Even Peter, Peter noticed bitterly. Always even. Never "James, Remus, Peter and Sirius." Always "James, Remus, Sirius, oh, and Peter, of course."

"I doubt the Ministry will want my help," Remus said delicately, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh, quiet Moony," said James, "Dumbledore will let you work undercover if you really want to."

"I suppose," said Remus, but he sounded doubtful.

"He been bothering you?" Sirius asked offhandedly, taking a bite out of his toast.

Remus shrugged. "Not yet, but I have no doubt that I'll start getting threatening letters soon enough. If this Voldemort person's got any sense, he won't let the chance to recruit a mistreated, abused dark creature slide by."

Peter shuddered again at Remus' words. They were all so calm about it. How could they be so calm? People were dying every day. Every day! And so far, the killings didn't seem to show any sign of letting up. They had already got the parents of seven people at Hogwarts, five in Gryffindor. That was hardly a coincidence.

Who knew who would be next? The victims were of Muggle and wizard heritage alike. What if his parents were next? Worse, what if he was next? He would be leaving Hogwarts next year. No Sirius, Remus or James to protect him. What then? Would they come after him?

"Ah, well," Sirius was saying, "We'll see. In the meantime, anyone want to dye Snape's hair pink? He could use the embarrassment."

James grinned. "Can't let those Slytherins think too highly of themselves. Tonight?"

"You've dyed Snape's hair pink a million times," Remus protested, "You should dye it...oh, I don't know...purple, for a change."

"Purple braids, with pink bows," Sirius agreed, "I like it. And maybe we'll change their wardrobes around a bit...'wash me' on the back of their robes?"

Sirius and James dissolved into laughter, while Remus shook his head indulgently. Peter managed a small smile. Yet somehow, as they left the Great Hall and headed to Transfiguration, he couldn't shake the feeling that something dreadful was about to happen, or the image of the gleeful grins of the Slytherins' faces.

Sirius stepped up to the porch, biting his lip nervously. What on earth did James want to see him for? Normally he wouldn't have thought much of it, but today...he suppressed a shudder at the chill that ran down his spine. The note in James' voice when he had got the call...he shuddered outright at the thought. He had hoped he'd never hear that tone of voice in James, and now...he shook his head, trying to shrug it off, and knocked on the door.

It was flung open instantly. "Sirius!" James exclaimed, grabbing his old friend and dragging him in. "There you are!"

"Here I am," Sirius agreed cheerfully. "Hey, Lily," he added, winking.

Lily rolled her eyes and shifted Harry from one hip to the other. "Hello, Sirius."

"Harry!" Sirius cried happily, seeing the baby she was holding. "Dere's my itty bitty Marauder! You's a cutie, yes you are!" he exclaimed, snatching Harry from her. Harry giggled happily. "You love your godfather, don'tcha Harry? Don'tcha?"

James sighed. "Ten seconds inside my door and already Harry's reduced him to a babbling idiot. I think he's set a new record."

"Awww, but he loves me," Sirius protested, tickling Harry. Harry squirmed and squealed happily. "See?"

"Oh, stop torturing the poor child," James said, but he didn't sound angry.

Lily looked up at James, and their eyes met over Sirius' head. Sirius couldn't see them, but for a second he could have sworn the air in the room got colder.

He didn't have to wonder why for long. "Sirius," said James, his voice changing from playful to deadly serious. "We need to talk to you. Give Harry to Lily and come with me, please."

"Aw, but--" Sirius began, but he fell silent at the look on James' face. Silently, he handed Lily to Harry, who took him into an other room, and followed James into the living room. There, he sat down on the couch and waited.

A few seconds later, Lily came into the room, having left Harry secure in the next room.

"All right," said James, "We can begin, then."

"Begin--what?" Sirius said hesitantly.

James sighed heavily. "Sirius, we went to see Dumbledore today."

"Oh?"

"James and I have suspected for a while that Voldemort's after us," Lily said, sliding into the conversation easily, "Today, Dumbledore confirmed our suspicions."

"He said our best bet would be a Fidelius Charm," James added, "You remember what that is?"

Sirius nodded slowly. "It's for keeping a secret-you entrust your secret inside someone else, and it can't be found unless the Secret-Keeper gives it away," he recited, "But--James-Lily-who--"

"You, Sirius," said James steadily, looking Sirius in the eyes, "We want you to be our Secret-Keeper. Dumbledore offered, but there's no one I trust more than my best friend."

Sirius frowned, feeling self doubt overwhelm him. "Why me, though? Why not Remus or--or--"

"Remus is a werewolf," Lily said calmly, "Yes, I know that doesn't make him less trustworthy, but Sirius, think about it. Voldemort wants Remus. He wants to recruit him. He's hunting him as much as he's hunting us. Remus may be trustworthy, but if the Dark Lord tortures him--Sirius, the man has enough stress as it is."

"We have a spy among us, Sirius," James reminded him.

Sirius sat up in shock. "You can't think--Remus--no way!"

"Voldemort's after him, Sirius," Lily reminded him, "Even if he's not giving up information willingly...we don't want to put extra pressure on him."

Sirius sighed heavily. "But I'm the obvious choice!" he protested, "Won't Voldemort suspect me first? I mean, I'm your best friend, it's not exactly a secret. What about--oh, I know!"

"What?"

"Peter!" Sirius said happily, "Why not make Peter the Secret-Keeper?"

"Peter...Secret-Keeper," said James slowly, as if the idea had just occurred to him.

"Yes! No one will suspect him of being the Secret-Keeper. It'll be the perfect bluff! And we won't tell anyone, not even Dumbledore--everyone will think or suspect it's me--and we'll both go into hiding, and--"

James and Lily exchanged glances. "You know, Sirius," said James finally, "I think you may have a good idea."

Peter yawned, feeling his head cloud over. "Oh look, an owl," he said thickly, through his yawns. Through bleary eyes he could see that it was steadily growing darker. He should really go home now. He had been working far too late now, and it wasn't safe, these days, to stay out so late...

Still yawning, he reached for the note that the owl had dropped on his desk. In his exhausted state, he failed to notice that the owl was solid black.

Unrolling the parchment, he took one look at it, then frowned. It was blank. "Who on earth..."

All of a sudden, words began to appear on the parchment, letter by letter, as if an invisible person was writing them. Peter dropped the parchment like a hot coal, shuddering violently. "No..." he whispered, "Not them...not now..."

Dear Peter,

It is us, your friends, again. How are you doing? Are your other friends treating you right? Is that werewolf behaving?

We're watching you, Peter. As your friends, we are concerned for you. You have been working late. Are you tired, Peter? Are you scared that we will get you?

Don't be scared, Peter. We never attack our friends. Because you are our friend, aren't you?

And friends tell their friends what they want to know. You have information we could use. Give it to us. We're your friends; are you our friend?

We are waiting for you, Peter. We are right outside your door. Let us in. If you are our friend, you will give it to us willingly. If you are not, we will take it anyway.

Because if you are not our friend, you are our enemy. And you don't want us to be your enemies, do you?

Remember, Peter, friends don't attack friends.

But enemies attack enemies.

The letter was not signed, except for the black, ugly mark at the bottom. The words lay on the parchment, shimmering, for a few seconds, then slowly began to dissolve. When all the words were gone, the parchment disappeared with a soft "pop!"

Peter watched it, shivering violently, for a few seconds.

Then he went to open the door.

There, as expected, were three, giant masked men, in dark, menacing robes. "It's about time," one rumbled, "We thought you weren't coming."

Peter could almost see the nasty smile behind the man's mask. "W-wh-what-what do you w-want?" He stuttered, cursing his stammer mentally. It always came back to get him whenever he needed it the least.

"You know what we want," the Death Eater said in a low, confident voice. They had already discussed this. It was true; Peter knew what they were here for.

"I--I--c-can't--Crouch--"

"Crouch what, Pettigrew?" the Death Eater snapped, sounding impatient. The two hulking figures on either side of him were silent, but still dangerous.

Peter trembled violently. He couldn't stop it. "He-l-l-locked the c-cabinet-"

"But surely he told you how to open it?" the other man said confidently, "Since you work in this office, and all--and I'm sure you don't want to disappoint us-after we've come all this way, it would be a shame, wouldn't it, if we had to force you to--"

Peter sighed. It was no use. "He--he told me," he admitted, pulling out his wand. "But--"

"But what, Peter?"

Peter hesitated, wand hovering over the cabinet uncertainly. "W-what do you need this for?" he asked, gathering up his last strands of courage. "I mean, since we're - ah - friends, can't you tell me--"

Had Peter been able to see behind the Death Eater's mask, he would have seen a rather unnerving smile. But he couldn't see, so he didn't know. "But you have other friends, Pettigrew," he reminded him, "What if they found out? We can't put ourselves in danger. No, Pettigrew...when they are gone, then we might tell you. Until then..."

Peter shuddered. When they are gone. The words hung ominously in the air. James, Peter was thinking, Sirius! What if--

"Pettigrew, the information," the Death Eater was saying, a mite impatiently, "Give it to me."

They're gonna get them, oh my God, they're going to...Peter's head was whirling, but he obediently muttered something at the cabinet, pulled it open and found out the files they had asked for. Then he turned around, and held them up, just out of reach. "What are you going to do to them?" he asked, fear making his voice shake.

"You'll see," said the Death Eater, forcing his voice to remain patient. But then he leaned close to Peter, so that the man's eyes were two inches from Peter's own. "But we will leave you alone, Pettigrew," he whispered, his soft voice taking a dangerous edge, "That is...if you are with us. Now give me those files." He held out his hand, and Peter gulped and handed them the papers he wanted. "Thank you," he said, then turned to leave, his fellow Death Eaters following him like giant, dangerous guard dogs.

Peter watched them go, and it was not until they were about to open the door that he found his voice again. "Wait," he said in a strange, strangled sort of voice. The Death Eaters turned to face him again. He cleared his throat nervously. "Wait," he said again, more clearly this time.

"Yes?" said the first Death Eater.

"W-what do you want with me?"

The Death Eater's eyes glittered dangerously behind his mask. "Your information," he said, "The Dark Lord knows you...knows who you are. He knows how...valuable you are. He wants your friendship."

Peter stared at him, his voice leaving him out of pure shock.

"You are of great value, Peter Pettigrew," the Death Eater said, following up on his lead, "You may yet be spared if you act...wisely." With that, he and his companions turned and left the room.

Peter could only stare at them, mouth hanging open in surprise. They wanted...him? Someone wanted him? He sat down, hard, in his chair. It was impossible, he decided. No one had ever...wanted him. And yet, that Death Eater had said he was valuable. Valuable! It was a new feeling, and not an altogether unpleasant one.

For the first time, Peter began to seriously consider...well, joining them. If they wanted him...if he was valuable...

Suddenly, his stomach dropped. They were going to kill his friends. His best friends. Sirius, Peter thought desperately, James. Lily. Harry. Remus.

But if he stood in their way, if he didn't help, would they kill him, too? Peter shuddered, knowing the answer immediately. Of course they would. They would kill him, and all his friends, in a heartbeat.

Was it time to change his friends?

"Well, Peter, you've got a lot of potential, if you use it right. But Peter--a bit of advice to you? Choose your friends carefully. And don't be afraid to use your courage. It will be a great aid to you if you can find it and use it properly. Do you understand?"

Peter shook his head to clear it, wondering why he was remembering that, of all things. He had never truly forgotten what the Sorting Hat had said to him. He had often wondered what it had really meant by that - and he was never truly sure. He had tried to figure out what it meant by his courage, and he just didn't know. What courage? Peter thought bitterly, I have no courage. I'm not brave. Sirius and James and--even Remus, are brave. Not me.

Choose your friends carefully.

Peter sighed, looking out the window, at the black night. Waxing Gibbus, he thought automatically, Full moon's next, and I'll be--no, that wasn't right. He wouldn't be with Remus for a while. He was too busy.

His glance left the window and wandered over to the still open cabinet next to him. Was this what it meant by choosing his friends carefully?

Somehow, he doubted it.

And anyway, it wasn't like it mattered. His - other - friends never told him anything important, anyway. He would just have to separate himself from them a bit. That way, it wouldn't be his fault if he didn't know anything about them, he told himself firmly.

But there wasn't much of a choice, was there?

Peter picked up his wand, closed and locked the cabinet, turned off the lights, and left his office.

Peter felt a shiver run down his back. "You want me to what?" he squeaked, his voice going up a notch in pure surprise.

James and Lily exchanged glances. "We want you to be our Secret-Keeper, Peter," Lily said gently, "It was Sirius' idea."

"Sirius--what--" Peter sat down, feeling faint. "You can't be serious," he said weakly.

"No, Peter, we are serious," said James earnestly, "We really want to do this. It'll be the perfect bluff, you see. Everyone will think it's Sirius, and the whole time, it'll be you. Voldemort will never suspect you."

Peter flinched at the sound of the name, and felt his ears grow red. How very wrong they were. "I can't," he said, finding his voice, "Remus--or--or Sirius, or Dumbledore--just--not me," he said earnestly, silently willing them to understand how dangerous it would be for them to trust him.

"We thought you would say that," Lily said with a smile. "But listen, Peter. We trust you. We trust you just as much as Dumbledore, or Sirius, or Remus."

"We can't get Remus to do it," James put in, "You know Voldemort's after him."

Peter shuddered. Yes, he did know. He knew all too well. "But--"

"We can't ask Dumbledore to do it," Lily added, "He has far too much work on his hands as it is."

"No--but--" Peter stammered, trying to find the right words to convey to them that he couldn't do it. "Really, I--you shouldn't trust me, what if the Dark Lord finds out, you know how I am, and--"

"But he won't, Peter," James said earnestly, "That's the thing. You and Sirius will both go into hiding, and we'll tell everyone who needs to know that it's Sirius, and Voldemort will think that, too. He'll never suspect you."

Peter sighed. They really were set on it, weren't they? And Voldemort...he had to keep a smile off his face at the idea. Imagine the look on his Master's face when he found out that Peter had the information he valued the most. "All right," he whispered, "What do I have to do?"

And that's it. What? Oh, be quiet. I'm not telling you more til the next moon phase. No! I will NOT! HUSH! Oh, I know I'm horrible. That's the point. Of course I'm being horrible to you. My father did it to me, just like his father before him, and so on. That's just how it is. Tradition, you know. Tell a story and leave your listeners hanging onto every word, and end with an awful cliffhanger. Oh, stop whining, I'm being sarcastic.

Now, go to bed. It's very late...this is a long story. Yes, I promise I'll continue at the full moon.

Which, children, is when the story really begins.