Summary: A killer, a betrayer, and a werewolf meet once again. Hate is rife, but will a trip through Dumbledore's Pensieve help them to remember the good memories, as well as the bad? Not a good summary, please R&R

Author's Note: Yes, I realize this fic is a little, uh, mixed up. I mean, why would they meet if, y'know, Sirius was on the run and all? And I know they'd all have more important things to do, also. But I like this, and I enjoy writing this, so go with it. And yes, it's my first HP fic, but I've written lots of SoR fics... that's School of Rock, for those of you who don't know. So go check those out, if you wish. Oh, and if you know what 'canon' is, and what it means when someone/thing's 'AU', I'd appreciate it if you could let me know

I'm a betrayer.

They all know what I did.

And they're going to make me pay.

'I don't want to go,' the pudgy man whispered, in a weak, shaking voice. 'Please don't make me go, Master,' he whined, cringing at the feet of the figure before him.

'Don't argue with me, Wormtail.'

'But... But Master, they will know me... they may kill me...'

'You do not wish to risk death for me, when I have done so many times for you?' The voice did not get angry, did not shout or show any emotion, but this was somehow more worrying than it would have been otherwise.

'I-I'm sorry, Master, I just... it's just B-Black...'

'He will not dare show.'

'..B-But if... if he does, Master-?'

'You dare to question me?' The voice was terrible, and indescribable, and just the sound of it hurt the balding man's ears and reduced him to a whimpering mass on the floor.

'Of course not, Master... I will go at once...'

'And you will do the task I have set for you, Wormtail?' 'Wormtail' swallowed, crawling over to the man – if you could call him that – and kissing his feet, the disgust mingling with the tears now clearly visible on his face.

'Master, I-I will consider it an honor...'

'Make sure that you do, and please stop attempting to gain even the tiniest bit of respect from me.' The amusement was evident in the inhuman tone, and it was all Wormtail could do not to run from the room, screaming. But he had been obedient for too long.

'Yes, Master.'

'Now go.' Wormtail dragged himself away from the room, the room he hated, the room he dreaded. He disappeared in a flash, with a loud crack! and reappeared ankle-deep in dewy grass. The moon shone down silver upon him, and he couldn't help thinking that right now he would do anything – yes, anything to go back to how things were, to how they used to be.

He walked in through the infamous doors, knowing he was early, seeing that he was the first one there – out of their old group, at least, even if there were only three left, including him. The other people were there but they thought he was dead, that it couldn't be who it looked like, it must be that Hufflepuff, y'know, the one that always got mistaken for him...

Peter Pettigrew took a seat at his old table, and waited for the other two to arrive.

OoOoO

I'm a werewolf.

I'm a monster.

And now, I'm going to have to confront my oldest demons.

The thin man tugged on a strand of sandy brown hair, holding it out critically before him. It was short and streaked with gray, much like the rest of his once perfect shoulder-length hair. 'You're old, Moony,' he sighed, wanting to be somewhere else, someone else. 'And how do you justify going to this?' He didn't want to go, didn't need to go, but he had to go. His thoughts turned to the last time he saw them, when they were running about under the full moon, oh, many years ago.

He'd watched himself transform before, and each time it both saddened and repulsed him. The fur slowly sprouting and rippling across his skin until it was no longer skin made him want to vomit, and when his sandy brown hair darkened and lengthened until unrecognizable he automatically put his hand up to check it each time, even though he didn't want to, even though he knew he would not see a hand, but a paw, with sharp vicious claws, each ending in a murderous point. But his eyes... were the worst...

'Padfoot' and 'Prongs' had each said that his change was 'no big deal' - easy for them to say, the man now thought bitterly - and they had even stayed with him in the Shack, but each had refused, hadn't dared to look him in the eye. He had never understood why; to him, the whole thing was equally disturbing. but once he watched his reflection in the lake, and he then understood. The image was blurred and vague, but it was enough.

He understood.

The sight of his normally warm amber eyes changing into someone else's - something else's. The friendly light darkening with the irises, and glaring menacingly, the howl of the wolf that was normally hidden deep inside being set free, let loose. The dark pupil reddening impossibly and setting him apart from all the normal wolves. The lucky ones.

The moon above him was not full, and he knew he would not have to transform for a while. He absently slipped a piece of Honeydukes' chocolate in his mouth, savoring the warm sweet taste as it slowly melted on his tongue.

'Take heart, Moony,' he said to himself, slipping his hands into his worn, patched pockets. 'You've done nothing wrong.' He paused, one hand on the door, and another thought struck him. 'It's what James would have wanted, for you to come back.' Comforted by this, Remus Lupin drew up his courage and slipped discreetly into the Great Hall, unnoticed by anyone else.

OoOoO

I'm a killer.

At least, everyone thinks I am.

And everyone will know I am before dawn breaks.

The dark-haired young man sighed impatiently, sitting by the edge of the lake. He watched as slimy thick tentacles rose and fell, almost as if the giant squid was dancing a dance, just for him. 'Just like you used to be, ey, Squidward?' A stray tentacle waved gently, an eerie glow surrounding it in the moonlight, and the man laid back, running one slim hand through his silky black hair.

'What am I doing here?' he murmured, asking himself more than the squid. 'I shouldn't even be here... they're looking for me. This will probably be the first place they look.' A mischievous sparkle appeared in his eye, and he sat up, looking much more like his old self.

'Unless, of course, they take it as a double bluff,' he said aloud, a cheeky grin tugging at the corners of his handsome mouth. 'Y'know, the one place they won't look is the most obvious place... and well, if they do come, I got in and out once without being detected, I'm sure I could do it again...'

A sudden noise startled him, and he leapt to his feet, hand instinctively flying to his wand. A cat shot out of the shadows and up a tree, obviously scared by some lesser thing. He relaxed, looked round, and leaned back against the tree. 'You're too jumpy, Padfoot,' he muttered, a shaking hand smoothing back his hair. 'They won't come here and, if they do, you'll at least have time to commit the murder you got convicted for.' He half-laughed, stowing his wand away under his robes again, and briefly closed his eyes.

'Calm down,' he told himself, 'just stay calm. You're sane... sure, you're talking to yourself, but you must be sane. You have to be sane. Remember what Jamesy said. Remember James. You're doing this for him. This is all for him.' Gritting his teeth he made the decision to go now, to face the others, and he walked off.

He stopped in front of the large wooden doors, taking a breath. He placed one hand on the warm oak, mentally preparing himself for what he had to do. He slipped a pair of shades on, and checked his reflection in the large steel bolts. 'I'm back, baby,' he grinned, striking a pose, and pushed open the heavy double doors, seeing the shocked and – yes, even frightened faces of those already assembled in the Great Hall.

Sirius Black was not a coward, and right now he knew exactly what to say.

'Hello, losers. Didja miss me?'