Tuesday 25th March 1980

Leila's House, 18:30

"Don't you ever get a bit sick of doing all that talking but not really doing anything?"

"We're trying to get our voices heard in the Ministry," Peter protested weakly.

"Pfft. Like there's enough of you who's important enough for that to work. No, I'm talking about doing something real."

"I told you, Leila. Peter doesn't want to get involved in that sort of thing," Reginald said with a sigh.

Even though it was true, Peter couldn't help but bristle at that. It was like they didn't expect him to do anything big. Anything important. Just like the Marauders. Well, he'd show them.

"I wouldn't mind," he said.

"Really?" Reginald asked sceptically, earning ginseng an elbow to the ribs from Leila.

At least someone was on his side.

"Yes," he thrust his chin up. "I would."

"Huh."

He still didn't sound like he believed him and Peter didn't like that. Just because he didn't like fighting and putting himself in danger didn't mean he wasn't willing to do things. He was just more careful, that was all.

"See? I told you he would, Reginald," Leila said smugly.

"Yeah, yeah, you win," Reginald said with a roll of his eyes.

"I always do."

"Whatever."

"He never did like losing," Leila said to Peter in a conspiratorial whisper. "Even if he does a lot."

"I don't lose a lot."

"Yes, you do."

"Only around you. I win everything else."

"Of course, you do," she said patronisingly.

Peter couldn't help but smile at the interaction between the two of them. They almost reminded him of the Marauders with the way they got on with each other. It was nice. See? They weren't so different after all. Just a few things were different but those things weren't really that important, were they?

"Whatever. Let's move on," Reginald said impatiently.

"He really doesn't like losing," Leila said solemnly.

"Who does?" Reginald asked bitingly.

"Now, watch me sooth his ego," Leila instructed Peter, not looking at Reginald.

Peter sat back to do just that. It was way too funny to watch Leila get her own way. She made it look so easy.

"You know, Reginald. Technically, you won," she began.

His eyebrows shot up. "And how do you figure that, pray tell?"

"Well, you didn't think Peter would join your little group because of your mistaken reservations about his character."

"Yes..."

"Well, he had proved you otherwise, therefore he can be involved in your other group," Leila said and then turned back to Peter. "Can't you?"

"I, I guess so," Peter replied haltingly, not prepared to be put on the spot that.

Reginald snorted at him. Actually, snorted at him!

"Reginald!" Leila hissed disapprovingly.

See? Even she picked up on it! Did Reginald really think that poorly of him? He was the last person je would expect this from and, if Peter was being honest with himself, that kind of hurt a little.

So, he did the only thing he could do. He straightened up in his seat and looked straight at his friend.

"I want to be involved in whatever you are," he said, mustering up his most confident tone (mimicking how James and Sirius did it, really).

Friday 28th March 1980

Marauder Flat, 15:00

Sirius suddenly appeared in the apartment, making Remus jumped to his feet. He hadn't been expecting him back so soon. There had to be at least three hours left on his shift. What in Merlin's name was he doing back so quickly?

"Sirius?" He called out over the sound of the kettle boiling.

It was time for his fourth cup of tea of the day, maybe Sirius would like one? Maybe be would even take it from his hands if he was tired enough? That would be something.

He was about to turn and pour out another cup when he realised that something was wrong. Sirius was swaying alarmingly on his feet which made Remus run over to catch him before he fell flat on his face. His mug dell to the floor, smashing on impact and spilling tea everywhere but he didn't care. Not when this was happening. What in Merlin's name was going on here?

"Sirius? Sirius!"

Sirius mumbles something but it was completely unintelligible, making alarm bells go off in his head. That and the fact that Sirius wasn't even trying to get himself back on his feet, all of his weight still being on Remus.

It was difficult to keep a hold of him. Sure, Remus had muscles and could hold a fair weight but Sirius was, disturbingly, a limp weight. And his robes were wet with something. Scratch that, not wet, soaked through. It made getting a grip of Sirius harder than it should. What had he been doing to get into such a state? Was he cursed? Hexed? Just plain exhausted? He had been working back-to-back shifts recently, all the Aurors had. It was enough to make anyone delirious.

Remus took his hands away only to see that they were covered in blood. Sirius' blood. Sirius' cloak was soaked with it. It wasn't water or mud or oil or whatever else be thought it would be. No. That liquid and that expanding stain on kt was none other than blood. Sharp, metallic-smelling blood. Remus most gagged from the sheer strength of it. How had he not smelt that when Sirius first arrived? Not that that mattered right now. The main thing here was to see where Sirius' injury was, or injuries, and heal him.

Off came his robes and there was so much more blood than he thought. Sirius' shirt was saturated with it. What colour was it even meant to be?

'Rrrrip' went Sirius' shirt, buttons flying everywhere as Remus frantically tried to find the wound.

There it was! On his left side, going from the bottom half of his rib cage and curving around to his bellybutton. What would cause such a gash? No. That didn't matter right now. What mattered was healing Sirius. That first. Worrying later.

Thank Merlin for him being a werewolf and knowing how to take care of his own wounds (which had been necessary on a few of his Order missions). He could at least clear away all the old blood (even though it was just replaced with new) and could sanitise the wound. Right. It looked clean now. No foreign debris or anything. Dittany. He needed Dittany. Where was it? Wait, he was a wizard.

"Accio Dittany!" He shouted and the jar soared into his hand.

"I don't hate you, you know," Sirius said in a delirious voice as Remus applied Dittany to his skin. "Ow!"

"You don't?" Remus asked, trying to keep him talking.

He did not want Sirius to fall unconscious and complicate things but he would be lying if he didn't say that he was curious about what Sirius was saying. Well, curious was the wrong word there. He needed to know what Sirius really thought of him. He had got nothing from his friends in the last few weeks, after all. Was he still angry? Upset? Did he feel betrayed? Remus didn't know because Sirius hadn't been talking to him!

"No, I really don't," Sirius was saying.

"I'm glad," Remus said carefully, not wanting Sirius to suddenly change his mind or realise who he was talking to.

Because although Sirius seemed to know that it was Remus with him, he was also not completely "with it". His mental capabilities were definitely impaired right now. Hopefully it was just from the pain and not from some unknown curse.

On that note, he sent a quick Patronus off to Chryssie. She may not be a fully qualified Healer yet but she still had some Healing training. A fair bit, actually. The Auror Program wasn't the only one that was accelerated. Hopefully she had done that course on curses.

"You're stupid. Dora's stupid," Sirius was slurring his speech now despite being more alert.

"I am stupid," Remus agreed trying to keep him talking. "I don't think Dora is, though."

"Yeah, that true."

Where was Chryssie?

"I'm here, I'm here," she gasped, suddenly appearing in the flat.

"Oh, look, Chryssie's here!" Sirius said brightly.

Chryssie gasped at the state of him.

"Help!" Remus begged.

Like you'd flipped a switch, Chryssie got this intense look of focus on her face.

"Right," she said, hands on hips and eyeing Sirius. "What have you done and have you got a blood replenisher into him?"

Somewhere in the Midlands, 16:00

"It's pretty nice, isn't it?" Lily asked James as they were left alone to contemplate.

They had just been led around a rather nice two-story house in the Midlands. Lily had had to stifle a giggle at their estate agent's accent but the woman had been nice. A bit starry-eyed at James because of his looks and the fact that he was now "Lord Potter", which had been annoying, but she had still been nice. She had answered all of their questions and didn't try to hide anything from them.

And it was nice. It had four bedrooms, a good-sized kitchen and a massive living area. Big enough to fit all of their friends (their family) with room to spare. And the garden was alright. Lily would prefer if it was a bit bigger but it was okay. No room for a swing set or anything like that for their baby. The house before this had had a great big back garden.

She could imagine living here. Then again, she could imagine herself living in almost all of the houses they'd looked at. That didn't mean she couldn't see the flaws, she could. It was just that her and James hadn't really sat down and discussed any of the houses in real depth so she couldn't say for sure if she was particularly happy with any of them.

"It's okay," James said begrudgingly. "Though, the garden is far too small. And the fireplace is at a weird angle."

"This is the fifth one, James," she said, trying to keep the exasperation out of her voice.

For someone who had been so eager to move out of his parents' home, which was now solely his, he hadn't exactly been in a hurry to snap up a house for them. He'd found an issue with each and every one they'd been to so far. The size. The location. The weird shape of the rooms. If the was a tiny problem, James found it and made it a deal breaker. Lily knew that moving wasn't a good idea.

"I know, I know. I'm sorry."

He looked very, very tired and that worried Lily. She knew it was too soon to be doing this. She shouldn't have gone along with it.

"We can stop and pick this up some other time," she suggested gently.

"Look, there's only three more on the list," he said, waving the bit of parchment which had all their choice in the air. "We may as well still go and see those."

"And you'll actually consider them?" Lily asked. "Properly?"

"Yes."

She narrowed her eyes, but truly believing him.

"Promise me, James."

"I promise. I really do. Anyway, this one in Godric's Hollow looks promising."

Lily couldn't help but smile as he peered at their list with actual interest for a change. "It's because it's got Gryffindor's name in it, isn't it?"

"Yes," he said unashamedly.

Eh. She could work with that.

Wednesday 2nd April 1980

Diagon Alley, 11:00

These rounds that he had to do as an Auror were starting to feel natural now. More than a year since he'd started doing them. Kingsley finally felt like he knew what he was doing, knew what to look out for and knew the terrain much better. Of course, it helped that this particular patrol was in Diagon Alley but still. He still had to know all the side streets and nooks and crannies. And he knew all that now. He was quite proud of himself.

He was also very glad that this patrol wasn't in Hogsmeade. Now that was either an extremely boring patrol or an infuriating one. Boring because if it wasn't a Hogsmeade weekend at Hogwarts then there really wasn't much activity going on in Hogsmeade at all. It was a village, after all. A small one. And everyone, like in Diagon Alley, only did essential shopping. No hanging around, no loitering, no chatting to people. Just with Diagon Alley there was never no one about but in Hogsmeade in was mostly no one about. Hence, extremely boring. And then on the Hogsmeade weekends, students seemed to take great delight in annoying them with questions, wasting their time or just pulling stupid stunts. Which was frustrating. No. Diagon Alley was definitely his preferred patrol.

Though, he would prefer not to be on patrol at all but that was life.

He was just minding his own business, contemplating just that when suddenly something crashed into him at the speed of one of those nimbus brooms.

Then he quickly realised that it was a someone.

"You didn't save her, you didn't save her," she wept, pounding her fists weakly against Kingsley's chest.

It was Elsie. He thought so anyway. He couldn't really see properly due to the flailing limbs and the wailing.

Egerton, his partner, looked at him in concern.

"Should I?" He gestured towards Elsie but Kingsley shook his head.

"It's fine," he said, even though his chest was starting to hurt.

As gently as he could, Kingsley pushed her from him. She made it difficult, with the aforementioned flailing limbs and her one-track mind to crush his chest but he did it.

"Is that Elsie?" Frank asked, jogging over. "Elsie?"

Kingsley hadn't realised that Frank's patrol was over. He was supposed to be in Knockturn Alley, if he remembered the schedule correctly.

"You!" She said vehemently, turning around to glare at him as well. "It's your fault as well. It's all of your faults!"

"What's our fault?" Egerton asked quietly as Kingsley tried to calm her down.

"One of her sisters died last week. On that attack in London."

"Ah."

"She's dead!" Elsie shouted through tears. "And it's all your fault!"

Those words were like shards of glass through Kingsley's heart and yet, they were, they were true. It was his fault that one of Elsie's sisters was dead. A little sister too. Because he hadn't been doing his job right. He had failed as an Auror. He'd let the Death Eaters get the upper hand and there had been casualties. So many casualties. And little Lydia Malkin had been one of them. Not that she was a child anymore but still.

"Elsie, Elsie," Frack tried to get through to her. "We tried our best. We couldn't have done any more."

They really couldn't have. Which was the heart-breaking thing. The Aurors knew they had lost as soon as they turned up. They had been outnumbered. Overpowered. Not that that mattered, quite rightly, to Elsie.

"I never want to see you ever again!" She shouted at them, storming off, much to the amusement of onlookers. "Do you hear me? Never again!"

Sunday 6th April 1980

Unknown Location, 21:30

"It's just a little initiation."

"It's not dangerous, is it?" Peter asked with a gulp.

"Of course not," came the scathing reply. "Don't be ridiculous. We want you in one piece so you can be useful."

"Oh."

He was oddly reassured by that. Yeah, he could be useful. And he wouldn't be useful dead, would he? That would be bad. Very bad. So yeah. This was going to be fine. Just fine.

"You aren't about to chicken put on us, are you Pettigrew?" Someone asked scathingly - he still didn't know all of their names.

"I thought Gryffindors were supposed to be brave," another taunted.

He didn't like being taunted. It made him feel like his insides were getting all twisted. It wasn't a nice feeling and he wanted it to stop.

"I never said I wasn't going to do it," he snapped.

"Oooh," everyone chorused mockingly.

He wanted them to stop. Why wouldn't they just stop? He was going to do what they wanted. What he wanted. He was! They didn't need to keep goading him like this. He was going to do it! He just needed a little bit of time. He needed to prepare himself, surely, they could appreciate that?

He didn't want to make a mistake and mess this whole thing up. Even a slight hesitation would mean failure here and he didn't want to fail. Did he? No. He didn't. He really didn't. This was proof that be believed what they believed in and it was only for a few seconds. A few seconds and it would be over. No lasting harm, right? A few seconds wouldn't cause that much damage. Just in the moment and nothing more. So it wasn't that bad. It really wasn't. Not compared to other things anyway. This was quite tame.

The rabbit squeaked in front of him. Peter never knew rabbits squeaked. He had honestly thought that they made no noise at all.

"It's just a stupid rabbit," a rather squat wizard (he really had to start learning their names) scoffed. "Just get it over with. And then we can get to the good stuff.

He was talking about the person in the next room they were supposed to deal with. Oh, nothing morbid or anything like that. Just show them who was the boss. Who was superior? Everyone in this group of Reginald's had to go through it. To prove that you genuinely aligned with their priorities and goals. Which was fair enough. You didn't want to let people in who might stir up trouble, after all.

Peter was happy enough to show someone who was the boss and all that. That didn't sound too bad, especially since he was going to be doing it with a group of people. It wouldn't be just him.

But this first bit was all on him. He couldn't bolster up his confidence by using other people. It was all down to him.

Him and this rabbit. That he had to kill. Yes, kill. That's right. That was his task in all of this. Well, his first one. It was the same as everyone else's here except that they had already done theirs. There were four other rabbits on the other side of the room. The only difference to his was that those four were dead. Like his was supposed to be. It was to prove that they could be ruthless. Apparently, it carried over into how you talked and dealt with people. It had worked for plenty before him so Peter was pretty sure that it was true. Right?

"Come on, Pettigrew. You're showing me up," Reginald hissed at him.

"Sorry," Peter whispered back, feeling a pang when Reginald called him by his surname.

He couldn't remember the last time he had done that.

"Told you he couldn't do it," someone jeered."

"Shut up," Peter snapped. "Let me concentrate!"

That drew chuckles from his audience as well as some "oooohs". None of which were appreciated. Right. He could do this. He could.

He lifted his wand.