To Be Loyal

Chapter Sixteen

Disclaimer: HP is J.K.'s.

A/N: Sorry, I know it's been over a month again. Though this is the longest chapter yet, I think.

"It is the unknown we fear when we look upon death and darkness, nothing more." —Albus Dumbledore, Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince

"People like us don't have a safety net, Peter. We do what we need to in order to get by." Ann Pettigrew to Peter Pettigrew, her son

January 1, 1977

Peter ducked his head just before Floo Network spat him out into his home. He toppled forward awkwardly onto the carpet, reflexively catching himself on his hands. He got to his feet and brushed soot out of his hair as he surveyed his surroundings.

The first few times he'd used the Floo of the apartment, he'd knocked his head on the brick because the fireplace was so small. The apartment was dark save for a few flickering candles around the living room and the fireplace, which threw strange shadows on the walls and floor. Peter could just barely make out the figure of his mother sitting on the couch, a frayed blanket pulled up to her chin.

Peter whispered, "Mum?"

He stepped around the coffee table and peered closely at her. She was asleep, her head turned to the side and limp strands of her brown hair hanging over her eyes. The firelight made the wrinkles around her eyes more apparent.

Peter reached out and shook her shoulder. "Mum!" he said softly. "Wake up!" He knew that sleeping on the couch made her back pain worse.

"Peter?" Mum whispered, blinking slowly and turning her head to look up at him. She swept her hair out of her face with one hand and yawned. "How was your time at Potter Manor?"

"Just fine," Peter replied. "You didn't have to wait up for me."

"I'll make sure that my son gets home safe, thank you," Mum huffed as she stood up from the couch. "I didn't get home from St. Mungo's until midnight anyway."

Peter bit back a remark about how his mother needed her sleep as she drew him into a hug. Her grip was light and betrayed her exhaustion, but it was familiar and the contact calmed Peter. "We played a Muggle game and drank Butterbeer," he said instead. "We had a good time."

"It's good to have friends like them," his mother said as she released him and stepped back. The flickering firelight illuminated her face clearly for a moment, and Peter stood straighter under her sharp blue gaze. "Friends that will stick by you, but who can also look after you if you need it."

Peter felt a trace of guilt. He also enjoyed spending time with the other Marauders at Potter Manor, but every visit there was always stained for him. When he walked down the grand halls and through the richly upholstered rooms of Potter Manor, he wondered what James's family had done to deserve all of this. He had to fight to keep his expression neutral when he thought about how much his mother would have loved a kitchen as large and well-equipped as Mrs. Potter's. When he and the others had gathered around the Monopoly board, it had struck him that everyone there besides Remus and himself was from a well-known, well-off family. He'd focused on the game alone, shutting out the others along with his nagging thoughts.

That was one reason why he sometimes felt that he connected better with Remus than with James and Sirius. Remus, whose parents had spent much of their savings trying to cure and accommodate his lycanthropy, knew what it was like to work in the summers to help his parents pay Hogwarts' tuition. Remus was also the only one who seemed to always notice when Peter withdrew from conversations with the others. However, Remus's kindness, chiding remarks, and dry humor had their own place in the Marauders' friendship, while Peter didn't bring much to the table.

"Peter?"

Peter shook his head to clear his thoughts. He was glad that the darkness hid his expression from his mother's eyes. They're still my friends, and they've always been there for me, he reminded himself. "Yeah, that's true," he said quickly. He'd been silent for too long after his mother's comment.

Her gaze turned piercing. "They haven't been trying to get you to join up with the Aurors or Dumbledore's Order, are they?"

"No, Mum, nothing like that." Peter wet his lips nervously. James and Sirius had never been shy about their intentions to become Aurors, and the Marauders had often talked in whispers about the operations of the Order of the Phoenix, but he hadn't been pressured to pledge his support to either.

Not yet, a voice whispered in the back of his mind, and he winced. It was never spoken about directly, but he knew that there was an underlying expectation that they would stick together after Hogwarts. I wouldn't mind that if it didn't mean I'd be dragged into the war.

"Stay close, but don't get in over your head," Mum warned him, placing both hands on his shoulders. Peter nodded; Mum has given him this speech a dozen times; albeit in different words. "I'm sure your friends are good people, but some people with wealth or power or a cause use people like us. Those people don't care about you or me. They just want your loyalty." Her tone took on a hard edge. "You remember what I told you about what happened to your grandparents in Grindlewald's War."

"I know, Mum," Peter said, swallowing hard.

Mum smiled, the hard look in her eyes relaxing in relief. "Good."


January 6, 1977

On the first full day of the new term, James, Sirius, Remus, and Peter strolled into the Great Hall as they always did, laughing and joking and calling greetings to other Gryffindors and friends from other Houses. They sat in their usual places at the Gryffindor table, and James grinned when Lily slid onto the spot on the bench next to him and squeezed his hand. They hadn't had much time to talk alone on the train ride.

"Hey, Lily," James said quietly, as if worried that he'd startle her away if he talked too loudly. He had dated once before, in fifth year, but that didn't help his confidence at all. Lily was different-she's so kind, and true, and-and James was terrified of messing things up with her. He didn't know how to handle the strange transition from friends to something more that had begun on the Hogwarts Express. And what happens the next time I make a mistake? It was bad enough when I didn't stop Sirius from choking Snape. He curled his hands into tight fists. The war is getting worse out there, and it's coming here, to Hogwarts.

Lily gave him a sleepy grin and yawned. It was early-they still had some time before breakfast would appear on the House tables. "Good to see you, James." Her eyes locked with his for a moment, and then Lily's gaze passed over the other Marauders, who had been joined by Alice, Frank, and Marlene, and drifted up to the bright blue sky visible through the enchanted ceiling. James's heart swelled as a content smile spread across her face, and he relaxed slightly.

"Did you figure it out?" he whispered to Lily. After he'd shown her the mirrors he and Sirius had enchanted, he'd started to explain which spells they'd used, but she had stopped him. "Let me research it over break," she had said. "It sounds like a fun project."

"Yes," she replied definitively, her face lighting up. She seemed to wake up a bit as she launched into her explanation. "You linked the mirrors using a combination of the Reflection Charm and the Light-Switching Spell, which is a really difficult Transfiguration-nice work, James. And since I know that they only work for you, Sirius, and me, you must have enchanted it so the Voice Recognition Charm activates the other Charms. "

"That's right," James said, slightly taken aback. "You're really good at working through theory." He knew that Lily wanted to get her Charms Mastery and develop new medical and household spells. James was determined to become an Auror, but the Marauders had had a lot of fun working together on projects for Flitwick's class.

Lily smiled at the compliment before her expression grew contemplative. "You know, you could probably sell these," Lily pointed out. "People have made them before, but it's still kind of an untapped market. And I haven't seen any with voice recognition before. You know…" Lily said, tapping her fingers on the table. "You and I could be a great team. I'm top in our class, but you're better at practical application."

"I'd love that," James said, and he meant it. After a long moment of comfortable silence, he released Lily's hand and slowly put an arm around her shoulders. He was relieved when she put her head on his shoulder and let out another yawn.

James chuckled. This is amazing, he thought, and he reached out to lace the fingers of his right hand with Lily's left. He felt his anxiety slip away as she snuggled closer to him.

James glanced up at the staff table, his eyes skating over Dumbledore's kindly smile and Fenwick's assessing stare to land on Professor McGonagall, who was looking in his direction. They locked eyes for a moment, and McGonagall's usual severe expression was replaced by a small smile.

"Lily, Padfoot," James said, shaking his best friend's shoulder. "Look at McGonagall."

Sirius turned from his conversation with the others just in time to see McGonagall's smile before it faded. He inhaled sharply and muttered a low curse. "Was she smiling at you?"

"I think that means she approves," Frank put in, grinning. He was holding hands with Alice on the other side of the table.

"Hang on," Sirius said, drawing out the words. "Why does she approve?"

"Thanks a million, bro," James said sarcastically, punching Sirius's shoulder.

"No, no, I get that we're doing better by not picking on Slytherins, but McGonagall has always kept a stern face around us," Sirius observed, his brow furrowed. "Though I suspect that she secretly likes us. But-"

"Hey, Sirius, how was the rest of your Christmas break?" Alice cut in suddenly.

James cocked his head slightly in confusion. Is she trying to distract Sirius? He saw Remus roll his eyes in exasperation and shot a questioningly look at him, but Remus just mouthed, "you'll see."

"Um, good?" Sirius answered. He also appeared to be puzzled by Alice's sudden interjection. "Had some good conversations with the Potters. Thanks for asking."

Awkward silence reigned over the table for a moment. Alice and Marlene appeared to be searching for something to say, while Frank leaned back slightly on the bench, an amused smile playing on the corners of his mouth.

"So, McGonagall," Sirius continued, pivoting in his seat to face James and Lily. "I was saying, maybe she's happy because we haven't been starting fights with the Slytherins, but…" He trailed off, his brow furrowing, and then his eyes widened in something akin to horror.

"What?" James asked.

"When was the last time we pranked someone?" Sirius said, raising his eyebrows meaningfully.

James was surprised to find that the answer didn't immediately come to mind. "Huh. You know, I'm not sure."

"It was about halfway through October, when we modified the Elixir to Induce Euphoria that Sirius and I made in Potions so that it would make the drinker angry instead of happy, then spiked Snape's lunch with it," Remus supplied helpfully. "For the hour afterward, even the smallest annoyance would make him blow a gasket."

"That's right!" Peter chimed in. "We heard later that he flipped over a desk in Transfig after he got an Acceptable on a test."

"Did you ever think, you know… that maybe this is a good thing?" Lily suggested. "Not pranking people so much? Severus hexed seven people after taking that potion."

"Don't you even start, Evans," Sirius said, waggling a finger at her. "You getting us to 'improve our behavior' is one of the major reasons for this catastrophe. McGonagall just smiled at us. I know you have Prongs wrapped around your little finger, but I'm not going to let you ruin the Marauders' reputation."

"Oi!" James protested, and everyone stopped and gave him a skeptical look. "All right, all right," James muttered, blushing, and Lily laughed and squeezed his hand.

Frank laughed. "You're right, Sirius, we can't have that."

As Quidditch Captain and Head Boy, Frank wasn't in a position to take part in any pranks, but James remembered a few occasions when he had given James and Sirius some discreet advice. Frank wasn't quite as inventive as the Marauders, but he was one of the top students and duelers in the school.

"Thanks, Captain," Sirius replied, puffing out his chest slightly.

"I don't know," Marlene commented. "Some of their exploits have been pretty funny."

"I think that, when things don't go too far, James and Sirius's talent for pranking can be beneficial," Remus said thoughtfully as he rested his chin on his hands. "It brightens the mood, and brings the Slytherins down a peg in the eyes of everyone else. It reduces the atmosphere of-"

"Fear," Marlene finished, and Remus smiled at her.

"Precisely. Also, they can be hilarious."

"You're right," James added suddenly, and all eyes turned to him. "It's the kind of thing we need right now-something that will deescalate the tension between Slytherins and Gryffindors. We win by not striking back in the same way that they do."

James couldn't quite suppress a nagging worry in the back of his mind that anything they tried wouldn't work-that the war was coming to Hogwarts, no matter what. The memory of Lestrange's boot pressing down on Sirius's chest came to mind, and James's entire body tensed. We have to try, he thought.

"I'm up for a good prank," Peter said eagerly, and Sirius and Remus nodded in agreement.

"I see your point," Lily sighed. "I'll confess that Alice and I may have been trying to keep you and Sirius focused on other things so you would stop making trouble," she admitted sheepishly. "It wasn't that hard, with everything else that's been going on."

"Remus? Were you in on this?" Sirius demanded.

"I told them it would only work for so long," Remus sighed. James could tell that he was struggling to hold back a smile.

"Et tu, Remus?" Sirius gasped, slamming his hands down on the table dramatically. Just as he did so, Hogwarts' usual array of mouthwatering breakfast food appeared on the serving dishes in front of them. Sirius's right hand came down on the edge of one of the platters, dumping scrambled eggs over the back of his hand.

Laughter broke out around the table as Sirius extricated his hand from the eggs. "Shite," Sirius muttered, wiping his hand on his napkin.

James let out a long breath as Lily ran her thumb over the back of his hand. We're going to be okay, he thought. Everyone's laughing, and we're going to pull a prank together. Remus is offering wisdom like usual, Sirius is messing around like he used to, and Lily is holding my hand.

We're going to be okay.


January 14, 1977

Cynthia wasn't sure why he had sent for her.

As far as she knew, she wasn't on Dumbledore's radar. The Headmaster tended to deal directly with students that continually caused trouble or were struggling with problems at home or Hogwarts. Cynthia fit neither category. So why I am standing in front of the gargoyle that guards Dumbledore's office, trying to figure out what on earth this man wants?

Whatever the case, Cynthia knew that, eccentric as Dumbledore was, he had a reason for everything he did.

"He's ready for you, dear," a voice told her, and Cynthia turned around to find that the speaker was a portrait of a gray-haired witch poring over a stack of parchment at a desk. The witch pushed her spectacles up her nose, glanced up and gave Cynthia an encouraging nod, and went back to her work.

Does he know? Cynthia worried as she schooled her features into a thankful smile and muttered "Fizzing Whizbees" at the gargoyle.

Only one way to find out, she thought philosophically as a stone staircase began to ascend out of the ground, twisting in a spiral to fit the confines of the chamber. Cynthia stepped forward and allowed the staircase to bring her to the Headmaster's office.

She had never visited the office before, but the towering bookshelves, whirring silver instruments, and huge, claw-footed desk failed to surprise her. Cynthia focused her attention on the portraits of previous headmasters behind the desk. Hogwarts had been presided over by many colorful characters over the centuries, and she had read up on a few of them out of curiosity. Just above Phineas Nigellus Black was Vindictus Viridian, who died while attempting to tame a Siberian tiger. Three portraits to the right of Viridian, Dexter Fortescue could be found tinkering with his ear trumpet. And two rows below Fortescue was Armando Dippet, Dumbledore's predecessor, who had almost closed Hogwarts in 1942 after mysterious attacks resulted in the death of one student and the Petrification of several more.

They certainly got the wrong man-or half-giant, I should say-on that one, Cynthia thought ruefully. As reckless as Hagrid could be with the magical creatures, she knew that he would never have kept quiet if a beast he was caring for was hurting Hogwarts' students.

Cynthia had gotten to know Hagrid quite well over the years. In an ill-advised attempt to build House unity, Hagrid had taken to inviting students from all four houses to visit his hut throughout Cynthia's third year. Cynthia had been the only Slytherin to take the gamekeeper up on his offer, although she had visited discreetly to avoid negative attention from her housemates. Hagrid was a good listener, but she knew better than to tell him any of her secrets.

She was pretty sure that she was the only student to ever successfully consume one of Hagrid's infamous Rock Cakes, although she couldn't exactly ask around to make sure without sounding like she was making fun of her friend.

Cynthia's gaze traveled down from Dippet's benign smile to the current Headmaster, who appeared to be unaware of her arrival. Dumbledore was bent over his desk, brow furrowed and auburn beard trailing onto the roll of parchment on his desk that was capturing his attention.

"Professor?" Cynthia asked politely.

Dumbledore's bright blue eyes shot up to meet Cynthia's, and she spotted an alert, almost anxious look in them. Then the Headmaster's posture relaxed, and a weary smile spread across his face. "Apologies, Cynthia," Dumbledore said as he removed his half-moon spectacles to rub at his eyes. "I heard you come in, but current events are doing their utmost to monopolize my time and attention."

Cynthia knew he meant the war, although he wouldn't say it.

"By which the Headmaster means the Wizarding War," a new voice cut in. Cynthia whirled to face it, her hand going to her wand. She relaxed when she recognized Professor Fenwick, the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, as he strode into the office.

Cynthia could easily imagine Professor Fenwick on the front lines of the war against the Dark Lord and the Death Eaters. He was tall and thin, with a wiry frame, and he exhibited an easy grace as he passed Cynthia and walked behind the Headmaster's desk to stand on Dumbledore's right. Professor Fenwick's sharp blue eyes stood out in sharp contrast to his light brown skin as he stared down at Cynthia, who met his gaze levelly.

"Professor," Cynthia said, acknowledging Fenwick with a nod. "May I ask why I have been called here?"

Dumbledore stood up and walked around his desk, his eyes fixed on her behind his spectacles. "Cynthia, I will now let you in a secret of the Headmasters of Hogwarts. We have more eyes and ears than most students think. The portraits, the suits of armor, the house elves-all of them report matters that need my attention back to myself. This information network helps me keep track of altercations between students, among others. Time and time again, I have received reports that you intervened in such incidents to defend young students. I commend you and offer my earnest thanks for this."

"Thank you, Headmaster," Cynthia said, fighting back a content smile. "I think that older students like myself have a responsibility to watch out for the younger members of their House." How much does Dumbledore hear about each day? a voice wondered in the back of her mind.

"Ah, but Cynthia," Dumbledore replied, his eyes twinkling, "I believe you have gone beyond even that duty."

Cynthia's stomach dropped, and she took a steadying breath as she fought to keep her expression neutral. "What do you mean by that, Headmaster?"

"Over the past few years, the portraits and teachers have shared some very curious incidents with me," Dumbledore explained cheerfully. "Hogwarts has observed a pattern of strange occurrences in which an invisible, unknown party stopped older students from bullying younger students from the Houses of Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, and Ravenclaw. At first, since Slytherin was left out, I thought that a Gryffindor was likely responsible. However, as more information has come to light, I believe that the culprit is actually a Slytherin who does not want to be ostracised by their House."

He knew. Cynthia suppressed an urge to bury her face in her hands.

"I should have noticed that our mysterious rescuer was using methods characteristic of a Slytherin," Dumbledore went on, hands clasped behind his back as he smiled warmly at Cynthia. "However, the truth became obvious after a portrait observed you casting a powerful Disillusionment Charm on yourself seconds before an invisible savior prevented Mr. Avery from testing a variety of Dark jinxes on Ms. Adams of Gryffindor. I must say, I've never thought of enchanting the robes of an opponent to tie themselves around his head. That'll be thirty points to Slytherin for excellent spellwork."

The corner of Cynthia's mouth quirked into a rueful half-smile. She tried for a lighthearted tone as she said, "Well, I guess you've caught me."

"We appreciate your efforts, Ms. Nott," Fenwick spoke up. "The faculty crackdown on dueling has proven somewhat effective, but it is not an effective deterrent for all students. Between you and Gryffindor House's recent tendency to not start as many fights with Slytherin as usual, bullying of younger students is on the decline."

"Yes, I must remember to thank James for that," Dumbledore mused, a proud expression coming over his face. "I've heard that he gave a very eloquent speech. He's certainly growing up."

"However, the war outside these walls is becoming more violent and intense," Fenwick continued, and Cynthia nodded automatically. "Attacks on Muggles and Squibs are skyrocketing, and battles between Aurors and Death Eaters create dozens of casualties, and more opponents of Voldemort have been found dead in their homes in the past three months than in the previous nine." Fenwick brought one hand up to rub his forehead, and she thought he might have been trying to shield his eyes from their view. Had he lost someone?

Cynthia nodded in response to Fenwick's statements. She knew as much from the Daily Prophet, the whispers she heard around Slytherin House, and her parents' comments over Christmas break.

Dumbledore's tone was somber as he said, "I hate to ask this of you, Cynthia, but we need your help. In response to recent events, we expect to see a rise in pro-Voldemort furor among Slytherin and some Ravenclaw students that will result in more numerous and dangerous attacks on Muggle-borns and so-called blood traitors. Thus far, their bullying has mostly consisted of brash shows of force and derogatory name-calling."

"Tell me about it," Cynthia muttered. "I don't know why half of them were placed in Slytherin."

Fenwick snorted in amusement, but Dumbledore held up a cautioning finger. "For some of them, perhaps. But many have had no real need to be cunning up to this point. Now, we predict that some older students will engage in attempts to truly hurt or even kill their targets, as Rabastan Lestrange attempted to kill Sirius Black, whether through discreet spells or potions or other methods. They may even receive guidance from their parents, and they will recruit more students to join their cause." Dumbledore shook his head slowly, his eyes sad. "I hate to say it, to believe it, but the war has come to Hogwarts."

Feeling slightly sick by this new revelation, Cynthia nodded slowly. It made sense. Pushing people around and making them afraid of you doesn't require cunning, she thought. Avery, Mulciber, Rosier, and the others had the ability to be sly when they needed to. Their decision to refrain from using harmful spells after Evans, Macmillan, and McKinnon arrived to help the Marauders in the duel outside the Great Hall proved that. Cynthia stared down at the stone floor and she reflected back on a handful of other incidents through new eyes. I underestimated them, she realized. It was easy to think of them as arrogant bullies, but they have the potential to be truly dangerous.

"I see," Cynthia said, meeting Dumbledore's eyes again. "What help do you need from me?"

"In times of war, leaders need spies," Fenwick said abruptly, and Dumbledore winced.

Cynthia inhaled sharply. I should have seen this coming.

A/N: Thought: D'you think there's a piece of software out there made to search the Internet for copyright infringement? I know HP fanfic is ok because J.K. says so (if a writer doesn't want you to make fanfic and you do, you really might be breaking copyright law), but do we have to have disclaimers? I really don't know, but it's kind of fun. (Whatever the case: Harry Potter isn't mine!)

Please review if you enjoyed-or if you didn't!