Chapter 20 - Wormtail

25 October 1981

Sirius was pacing.

Throughout the night, the number of Order members had dwindled. They had to go home to their families, go to their jobs at the ministry or had simply become too tired to sit in the hardback chairs in Emmeline's dining room.

The sun had long since set, but Sirius had stayed, waiting for news that loomed more ominously as each second ticked by.

Moody had been due to lead the Order meeting at 7pm the previous evening, after returning from a mission that he, Gideon and Fabian had left for the day before.

Sirius didn't even know what the mission was really for. Just that it was now 3am, and no one had been able to contact any of them.

The minutes continued to pass, and Sirius looked at his watch just before a defiant pop broke the silence of the house. It was 3.24. Over eight hours late, Alastor Moody stood in the doorway, his hunched shadow gnarled in the light of the dying fire.

His hand went instinctively to his shoulder and he swore under his breath. Sirius wasn't sure whether he'd splinched himself, or he'd already had the wound before apparating.

Despite the fact that he was obviously injured, no one other than Emmeline moved to help him, and he help up a hand to stop her.

"I'm fine, I'm fine," he said gruffly, moving further into the room.

Sirius could see the red stains on his collar, the dark scratches on his face, the dried blood on his hands. He wanted to look away, but even now Moody had a way of commanding attention.

"I'm sorry," he said to the room at large, more earnestly that Sirius remembered him sounding before. "They were waiting for us."

"The Prewetts are dead." He shook his head, his gaze flickering around the room solemnly. "They went down fighting Death Eaters, trying to protect all of us."

A few people began to ask questions, while others couldn't help the tears that loudly fell.

"Go home." Moody said, ignoring all of them. "We'll regroup tomorrow."

As usual, he didn't leave much room for argument, but before he could leave, Moody's eyes met Sirius' across the room and he tilted his head meaningfully. "A word."

The living room was dark, and Moody didn't bother to turn on the lights. They stood close together, and Sirius could smell the blood on him. He wanted to ask if he was okay, tell him that he knew some basic healing from mornings after the full moon, but Alastor spoke before the offer could form on his lips.

"Sirius, listen to me. You're in more danger now than ever."

"What?"

"The Death Eaters tonight were specifically asking about the Potters' secret keeper. It won't take long before they put two and two together. You need to get out of your flat – get somewhere safe. I know you think you'd never spill James' secret, but tell me that again when you've been under the cruciatus curse for 5 hours. It's not as easy as you might think."

Sirius wondered whether that's where Moody had been tonight: being tortured by Death Eaters, all the while not able to give them the information they sought. But Sirius wasn't the one who he should have been warning. If they were coming for the secret keeper, they were coming for Peter.

"I understand." Sirius said gravely.

"You know what you have to do?"

He nodded. "I'll protect them, no matter what."

"Sirius? It's six in the morning, what's going on?"

Peter blinked at him blearily.

"Sorry, sorry," Sirius said, pushing past Peter into the flat. He hadn't even thought to look at the time. He hadn't slept since his conversation with Moody. Running purely on his undercurrent of panic, he'd drank three cups of coffee, written four letters, and made five different backup plans in case various aspects of the first plan fell through.

He briefly thought that, had he not been sleeping, Remus would have been proud of his productivity, but the thought was quickly pushed away as he instinctively flicked on Peter's kettle and told him to sit down.

"Gideon and Fabian died tonight."

Peter took a seat at his own dining table, obviously shocked.

"I know." Sirius said, "Anyway, I spoke to Moody and the Death Eaters are after you."

"Me?" Peter squeaked. He looked less scared than confused, but Sirius was busy pouring them both more coffee. "Why me?"

"Well, Moody said they were after me, because I'm the obvious choice for secret keeper, but you're really the secret keeper, so they're after you."

"Right."

"But I've come up with a plan to keep everyone safe" He took the piece of parchment he'd written on from his pocket and waved it in Peter's direction. "We can have you moved in in a couple of days and if you just lay low for –"

"Wait," Peter interrupted. He looked annoyed, and Sirius wanted to shout at him. Why wasn't he already packing?

"You expect me to just leave? Now? What about my job?"

"Peter, I'm sure they can manage to clean a few owl cages without you."

Peter hesitated. Sirius tapped his foot impatiently. "Fine."

"Right, sorry," Sirius said, frustrated. "Here's the address. It's an old house that used to belong to my family, it's been empty for ages but the last place they'd think to look for you is somewhere owned by a Black."

Peter nodded.

"I know this is a lot," Sirius told him. He wanted to be reassuring but he knew his voice was anything but. "But this way we can protect James and Lily."

"And me?" Peter asked indignantly.

"Yeah," Sirius said, "of course, Pete. We'll all be safe this way. I promise."

It was a promise he could only hope he could keep.

30th October 1981

Peter had lived the last few days like a ghost. He floated around the safe house Sirius had found him without really seeing it, going about the motions of living completely mechanically. He knew that he must have eaten recently, must have slept, must have showered, but he couldn't really remember doing any of it.

It was like the person he had been for his whole life had died: the Peter who had grown up in his mother's quaint little country house, the Peter whose Hogwarts years had been filled with fun and laughter, the Peter who had joined the Order of the Phoenix because, well, his friends had done it first. That Peter had been fading away for a long time, and now he had vanished for good. No one would even notice if he died for real, if not for the fact that he was James and Lily's secret keeper.

All this Peter, the shadow of his former self, could think about were the people who were gone because of him. Dorcas Meadowes was dead because he had tipped off Lucius Malfoy to her plans. Fabian and Gideon Prewett were dead because they hadn't been able to reveal where James and Lily were – because no one in the world suspected that Peter was the only one able to share that information.

Peter could end this, couldn't he? Just a few words out of his mouth would stop any more people dying to protect Harry Potter. Peter had never wanted to be secret keeper, after all. He had never wanted to join the Order of the Phoenix. He hadn't been the one to make any decisions about his life for a very long time.

But this choice was his to make. He would do what no one else had the guts to do and give the Dark Lord what he wanted. With Harry gone, they would all be safer. Maybe then Peter could cut ties with the Order and start fresh. Maybe then Peter would start to feel like himself again.

He had thought he would be scared when he knocked on the front door of Lucius Malfoy's manor, but he wasn't. He was completely calm as he was greeted by the house elf he remembered from the last time he was here, and as Lucius himself came to the door.

"Peter," he said smoothly. "A pleasure to see you, as always. What can I do for you?"

Lucius smiled at him, that charming, dangerous smile that made people want to please him, that let him wrap everyone around his little finger. Peter saw through it now, saw that he smiled the way a lion smiled at its dinner, but it didn't matter to him anymore. He was done with Lucius Malfoy.

"I need to speak to the Dark Lord," Peter said. His voice didn't waver even a little bit.

Lucius raised one sleek eyebrow, giving him a condescending look. Peter realised that for all Lucius' flattery, he had never really thought very much of Peter. "Oh? And why is that?"

"Because I'm James and Lily Potter's secret keeper, and I can tell him where to find them."

It was satisfying to see the look on Lucius' face, the surprise that he quickly tried to mask, the realisation that Peter was not just useful but indispensable. That surprise was chased off his face by greed: he would no doubt use this to his advantage, make a show of how he had persuaded Peter to join their side and how it was only because of him that the Dark Lord had finally got his hands on the Potters after over a year of searching.

"I'm very glad to hear that, Peter," he said. "The Dark Lord will be very pleased to see you; I have no doubt of that. I always knew how important you would turn out to be."

No, you didn't, Peter thought. You had absolutely no idea.

He ushered Peter in and asked him to wait in the foyer. Peter watched the minutes pass on the polished face of the grandfather clock, each tick echoing in his ears.

Then he was following Lucius through a maze of ridiculously elegant rooms and into a dining room with a long, thin wooden table. At the head of it sat the Dark Lord, and his deep red eyes grew bright at the sight of Peter.

"Peter Pettigrew," he said, his voice high and soft. "Come, sit with me. We have much to discuss."

He gestured to the seat beside him, high-backed and made of heavy, dark wood.

Lucius stepped into the room as well, but the Dark Lord's eyes flickered to him and he said, "You may leave us, Lucius."

Peter saw the disgruntled look on Lucius' face even if the Dark Lord didn't; clearly, he didn't like being dismissed just when he planned to take credit for the knowledge Peter had. Still, not even Lucius Malfoy would argue with the Dark Lord; he bowed his head and left, shutting the door behind him.

"I understand that you have some information for me," the Dark Lord said. He was leaning towards Peter slightly, eager to find out where the Potters were after all this time, hungry for it.

"I do. I'm James and Lily's secret keeper. I can tell you where they are." He paused and swallowed against the sudden dryness in his throat. "It's only Harry that you want, isn't it?"

The Dark Lord's shrewd eyes searched Peter's face for a moment before he said, "I understand your hesitation. It is a pity that the child must die, but it is unavoidable. He poses too much of a threat. It would be worse to let him grow up with the promise of death hanging over him, I'm sure you will agree. It is more merciful to end it now."

Peter nodded, but he knew his question hadn't been answered. "What about his parents?"

Voldemort smiled at him then, and Peter reassessed how he had thought of Lucius earlier. Compared to the Dark Lord, Lucius smiled like a house cat.

"You are worried about James Potter? Lucius tells me that the two of you were friends."

Were? Peter thought. It seemed ridiculous, given where he was sitting and what he was about to do, but it hadn't occurred to him that he and James were no longer friends. He had defined himself in relation to James for so long that it was hard to think of his life without James in it.

"Yes," he said. "He doesn't have to die, does he?"

"Of course not. You are doing me a great favour, so I will honour your wishes and let James Potter live. After all, I don't believe in needless death, Peter. I am a merciful man."

Peter thought of the needless deaths that had already come to pass: of the Prewetts, of Dorcas Meadowes, of the McKinnons and the Boneses and of Benjy Fenwick. He didn't believe the Dark Lord for a second.

And yet he still let the words spill from his mouth: he told the Dark Lord about the house in Godric's Hollow near the church, with an oak tree in the front garden and flowers growing outside the windows. He told him where to find Harry Potter.