The morning of September first, Peter woke at sunrise and dragged his already-packed trunk down the stairs of his house and into the kitchen, where his parents sat with their noses buried in copies of the Daily Prophet. Neither of them looked up when Peter entered, which he was surprised by given the amount of noise he was making.

"Is everything all right?" he wondered.

Finally his mother put down her paper, turning to him with worry etched deep into her face. "There was an attack last night, Peter," she explained gravely. "By…by You-Know-Who's followers. They killed the whole Davies family—a family of Muggle-borns. Even their little children."

Peter fell back against his trunk. "Just because they were Muggle-borns?"

"It looks that way," his father said. "They're getting bolder and bolder, those people. There are rumors they're even starting to recruit out of Hogwarts." Peter shivered.

"Promise me you'll be careful, Peter," his mother murmured. "The Death Eaters could be anywhere now. And you…well, you know you'd be a target for them."

"He'll be fine, Rona." Thomas Pettigrew placed a comforting hand on his wife's shoulder. "Dumbledore will make sure all the students under his care are safe, no matter what."

Peter swallowed. "Right." Suddenly he was feeling quite a bit less eager to return to school.

His father cleared his throat, taking one last sip of coffee and folding up his paper. "We should get going," he said. "We can't be late for the Hogwarts Express."

Peter's parents said their tearful goodbyes to him on the platform, his mother giving him at least twenty kisses. "Remember to be safe," she told him, looking her son right in the eyes. "Keep your guard up."

"I will, Mum," Peter promised, giving her one last hug. If nothing else, he'd always have his friends to protect him.

But as he carried his trunk through the corridor between the train compartments, he began to feel a sense of doubt about even that. Where were his old roommates? They'd written to him a bit over the summer, but would they still want to be friends with someone like him now that the new year was starting? They were probably better off without him, he thought darkly.

"Oi, Peter! Over here!" James's voice broke through his worries, and he turned to find him sitting with Sirius and Remus in the compartment to his left. Peter breathed a sigh of relief; they all looked happy to see him.

Sirius jumped up to give him a hug, followed quickly by Remus. Sirius's raven hair was down to his shoulders now, falling gracefully across the side of his face. Remus had grown at least an inch since Peter had seen him last—when James stood to help him stow away his trunk, he realized that he'd grown quite a bit, too, and now was holding what appeared to be a high-quality racing broom.

"Thanks, you guys," Peter said, taking the seat next to Sirius. "And thanks for sending the chocolate, Remus."

"Oh, yes," Sirius added. "It was the only thing keeping me sane all summer."

Remus blushed. "You're welcome."

"Hey, by the way, how's your mum doing?" James asked him, tilting his head to the side. "I saw her with you on the platform. She seemed like she was all right."

"My mum?" Remus looked a bit like a deer caught in headlights at his words. "Yeah, she's a—a bit better, I think. She's still not well, though."

"What exactly is wrong with her again?" Sirius wondered; Peter heard him yelp as James kicked him in the shin.

"It's a Muggle disease," Remus explained. "You wouldn't know it. But, you know, her body can't handle the wizarding medicines we'd use to help cure it."

"That's awful," James murmured. "I'm sorry, Re."

The boys didn't speak again for a few minutes, staring out the window and waving goodbye to their families as the train lurched forward and carried them away from King's Cross. Peter was the one who ended up breaking the silence.

"You guys heard about the Davies murders, right?"

"Yeah." Remus's face went dark. "It's so horrible that that happened. Right in London, too."

"My family certainly wasn't shedding any tears over them," Sirius muttered. "If anything, they thought the Death Eaters had the right idea. I wouldn't be surprised if they've all joined up by the time this year's over."

Peter looked down into his lap. His wanted to tell his friends how scared he felt, how he was worried the same thing could happen to his own family. But he knew that none of them would understand. James and Sirius were pure-bloods, and though Remus's mother was a Muggle, he could trace his magical blood back nine generations on his father's side. The Death Eaters wouldn't be coming after any of them.

As the conversation turned to James's broom and his Quidditch ambitions for the year, light and happy and carefree, Peter felt like he was more alone than ever.

Unlike last year, when they had to sail up to Hogwarts in boats across the lake, the boys took horseless carriages to the castle with the rest of the older students. The air was chilly for September; Peter pulled his robes around him as tightly as he could. His friends admired the carriages and wondered what could be moving them, but Peter's only thought about them was that they were creepy. When they ground to a halt in front of the castle entrance, Peter was the first to jump off.

Once inside, they took their seats at the Gryffindor table on the far left of the Great Hall and watched as the newest batch of first years marched up to the professors' table. Sirius was sitting on his feet so he could get a better view of the Sorting. "Come on, Reggie," he breathed. "Make me proud."

"Imagine how your mum would feel if neither of her sons were put in Slytherin," James said with a grin. He was clutching Sirius's hand, nearly as invested in the Sorting as he was.

But when Regulus Black stepped up to the hat and threw it over his head, it bellowed "SLYTHERIN!" without even a second's thought. Sirius sighed disappointedly.

"Well, that is what you thought would happen," Remus pointed out.

"I know," Sirius said; "but I also thought the Sorting Hat would put me in Slytherin, and I was wrong then." He bit his lip. "Lucius Malfoy's Head Boy this year—I'm sure Reggie will be following him around like a puppy in a few weeks."

"Can't win 'em all, Sirius," said James, patting his friend on the back. "One out of two's still pretty good."

The feast was just as amazing as always, and the chocolate cake served after was enough to cheer even Sirius up. As he laughed with his friends and watched all the ghosts flitting by, Peter was able to push the Davies murders out of his mind. He'd really missed this place.

After they were dismissed, Peter and his roommates ran upstairs to Gryffindor Tower, eager to learn what had become of their old room. "Gideon better not have charmed it back," Sirius muttered as they climbed the spiraling stairs leading up to it. "It took us an hour to figure out that spell."

Remus was the first to reach the top. "Still ours!" he declared, turning around with a grin.

Sure enough, the plaque they'd charmed in June was still inscribed with their names; the first years must've been given a different room. Peter felt relieved—some things never changed.

Unfortunately, he had a bad feeling that there would be a whole lot of other things changing for them this year at Hogwarts.