Chapter 8: Not So Little John

Peter Pettigrew was lost.

Which, for a first year student's very first day, was supposed to be the standard state of affairs. Except this wasn't the start to his first day. It was nearing the end of his very first week, and he still was having a hard time finding the Charms classroom. He had muddled through this start of term by attempting to follow the crowd via class changes, carefully discerning who might have a match in his schedule, and tailing that student to his next lecture. It had mostly worked so far, though sometimes he had needed to ask passersby for a little guidance. He had always received the help, but it had often come with a strained, I-Can't-Really-be-Bothered-Right-Now grimace followed by a sigh of reluctance and then assistance was given.

That situation might work out in the short term, but it was going to rapidly become untenable, or at least expire in usefulness, very soon. It was generally expected of first years that eventually, you would know your way around the castle well enough to get yourself to class.

Peter consulted the crudely drawn map he had attempted to draw throughout this week, hoping he could at least learn a pattern for how to get from here to there. To anyone else, it wouldn't have been very legible. What made it hopeless for Peter was that he was attempting to draw a map without first even knowing how to read one!

"Excuse me?"

Peter glanced up, flinching, his stout countenance now in the shadow of somehow tall and hale. The boy had dark brown bangs that fell into his eyes, and his smile was weak, almost sheepish. "Hullo. Are you lost?"

Peter gulped and nodded meekly. "Are you a Prefect?" he blurted hopefully, then immediately clapped a hand over his mouth. He hated the sound of his own voice – it was high and squeaky – which is what behooved him to sit through class (when he could get there) and hope the Professor didn't call on him. Most children dreaded the thought of puberty, but for Peter, it couldn't come fast enough. First change he noticed had better be a drop in his own register.

To his surprise, the tall and hale boy threw back his head and laughed. "I'll take that as a compliment; Merlin knows I don't get many of those. I'm a first year, actually."

Peter's beady eyes grew with hope. "You seem a little tall for a first year."

The boy shrugged bashfully. "Growth spurt."

Ah, yes. Growth spurt. That had better be the second thing experienced during his hopefully-soon puberty. In the next instant, however, Peter frowned as he thought of his mother – a portly, sweet-faced woman. With her genetics, he was inclined to doubt that he might get his father's height. The father who had left them when he was a baby.

The other boy now held out his hand. "Remus John Lupin, first year."

Peter shook it. "Peter…. Dwight Pettigrew," he frowned, as he stumbled into matching this fellow's introduction by way of his full name. He waited for another laugh, this time over his dopey middle name, but to his surprise (and relief) it didn't come.

"Shame your mother didn't think more alliteratively with your middle name. Something classic. Like Paul," Remus ran his tongue out over his bottom lip in thought.

"You and me both," Peter huffed, finding he rather liked this chap. A pause, and then: "Then again, the initials PPP would invite ribbings in and of itself."

Remus frowned in agreement. "Yes, I suppose there is that…" He glanced up at the clock. "Well, if you're coming along, I'd better know more about who you are! Onward, then, spit spot!" Peter followed in Remus's wake, actually daring to hope he may have found a friend.

"So you get teased then?" Remus asked conversationally.

"All my life," Peter shrugged like there wasn't much to be done about it.

"Me too," Remus said quietly, causing Peter to blink in shock.

"Whatever for?"

At this, Remus hedged. "It's better if you don't know," he admitted guardedly.

"Is it acne?" Peter hazarded a guess. "Or a condition?"

Remus chuffed bitterly. "Condition. Definitely a condition. I only wish it was acne."

"What is it that ails you, then? Gonorrhea?"

Remus shook his head, and kept mum. Peter politely thought it wise to stop pestering. Not everyone had to know everyone else's troubles, his mother sometimes told him. There were folks who carried struggles deep inside. Perhaps this Remus was one of them.

He jerked, startled a little to find Remus craning his eyes over his schedule. "You've got Charms next. That's where I'm going! Come on; I'll show the way!"

Peter deflated in relief. Maybe with luck, he and Remus had schedules that matched exactly. "Boy, am I jolly glad I ran into you!..."

"Mutual," Remus clipped back, sending him a tousled smile. Peter weakly grinned back.

The mismatched pair rounded the next bend to find the corridor ahead quickly emptying as the end of the class change grew steadily nearer. About halfway down the hall stood two boys, both with unruly crowns of hair; at the far end was a dark-haired, oily boy in green Slytherin robes talking quietly with a girl with flaming red hair: a fellow Gryffindor, Peter recognized her from the Sorting.

The five-minute warning bell in the Clock Tower chimed; up ahead, the Slytherin and red-haired Gryffindor started gathering their things.

The pair of boys, meanwhile, turned in an about-face and started prowling down the hall in Remus and Peter's direction, to get to their next class. Catching sight of this oddest of odd couples, the one boy with glasses stopped short.

"Well, take a look at what we have here, Sirius, me lad," and the grin he now sported was one of wicked amusement. "Lanky seems to have found himself a toad for a pet!"

"By Jove, indeed!" Sirius's gaze gleamed, and he made a show of taking James's spectacles off his nose and raising them to his own irises, as if needing to get a better look. "Hey, Storky! Toads are allowed as pets, but you might wanna get your eyes checked! Someone tried turning yours into a prince by mistake….!"

"…. and failed miserably," James snickered, the best mates slapping palms. "Was that a Muggle reference you just pulled, Sirius? Good show! Read it in a book once myself…"

Peter had to resist every urge to cower behind Remus's tall form. Around the pair of tricksters blocking their path, his eyes happened to lock with those of the red-haired girl. Her own irises were a sharp shade of hazel, he could tell even from this distance.

The Slytherin boy at her side, meanwhile, was taking in the mockery with something that might have been relief – relief, perhaps, that for once, the butt of the jokes wasn't him. "Let's get out of here, Lily!" his voice carried from all the way down the corridor. The girl, Lily, didn't move to follow right away, and Peter's gaze pleaded with her. "Lillian!"

"Y-Yeah. Let's go…" she followed him around the next bend and out of sight, looking back only once and warily. The last thing she saw before her red bangs whipped behind her like a banner was James gleefully shouting, "Expelliarmus!" and disarming poor Peter of his wand. The thing spun right out of his hand and into a shadowed corner of this alcove.

Remus lifted his hands pleadingly, placating. "We don't want any trouble. Let us go about our business…"

"And you don't think we have business too, Storky?" Sirius smirked. "Mischief and mayhem is our trade, and we have to keep up skills, you know." He appraised Remus up and down, before finally seeming to decide on a curse. "Legs like that need a good shaking out. Impedimenta!"

Peter would later recall with clarity how he had been looking straight at Remus in this moment, and he was for damn certain he didn't see the bloke's lips even move. Nevertheless, a second wand materialized with blinding speed so as to be almost from nowhere and a purple flash of light blocked it almost lazily.

Peter smirked wolfishly at how this mangy Sirius tosser looked entirely stumped. He wouldn't be the only one: nonverbal magic (if that truly was what had happened) was only supposed to be known by the most powerful of wizards, maybe seventh years at NEWT level. Certainly not a green firstie.

For his part, Remus sighed in an almost put-upon way. "Didn't want to have to do this, old boy, but you leave me no choice:" Now his lips moved to form a spell: "Stupefy!"

Sirius yelped in surprise and barely got his wand up in time to block, suddenly finding himself locked in wizard's duel with a decently worthy adversary. Served him right. James frowned for a moment at the tables being turned on his best mate before shifting targets back onto Peter.

"I'll chase you for sport anyway, Pee-Wee!"

Peter squeaked and somehow managed to nimbly dance his feet away from where James had been intending to hex his toes with some curse, unheard over the crashes from Remus and that mangy brute Sirius crossing wands. He darted away, down the corridor and in the direction of an awning leading out into the next alcove over.

"Oh ho, look at this one run, Sirius lad! Just like a rat!" James chortled, cackling as he gave chase.

Peter was about to turn into the awning, when –

"Langlock!" His legs suddenly snapped together as if someone had glued them, and he pitched forward, sprawling in a heap in the shadow of the awning. Peter's teeth rattled in his mouth as his chin connected with the cobblestones; within seconds, James was on him, turning him over and muscling him back into a literal corner.

"How about the full body experience?" he jeered, lifting his wand. Groping behind him, Peter's fingers happened to close on something long and slender.

"Petrificus Tot…."

Peter lashed out with the first spell that came into his head, really the only one he knew. "Diffindo!" he yipped.

There was a howl as, to Peter's astonishment, he actually managed to land a hit. The spell cut a shallow gash into James's cheek, just discomforting enough for the spectacled lad to roar in pain and stagger back a little in shock.

"GAH! What the blooming dickens…..?!"

"Diffindo!" Peter squeaked again; this time, a cut sliced its way through the hem of James' robes, causing the boy to stumble away further, his wand arm wobbling and unable to get a good aim. Peter decided to keep up the barrage and never let his opponent regain his balance. His legs still frozen and useless, he nonetheless managed to drag himself through a belly crawl after James.

He quickly decided to mix it up.

"Langlock!"

Now it was James's turn to have his legs suddenly not respond, listing him to one side and casting him to the floor in a heap. Peter gritted his teeth and continued his advance, forcing an off-balance James (in more ways than one) to literally roll away from him.

…. and roll right into Sirius, whose Spongify spell was now thrown off so that it went wide. The bloke with mangy curls glanced down.

"What the…..?"

Remus seized his chance. "Depulso!"

Sirius was lifted off his feet and slammed all the way into the opposite wall, sliding all the way down with a groan. James was struggling to get up, but his legs were still cursed, and he froze when he now found two wands pointing almost directly in his face. Remus confiscated James's wand.

"We'll take that. Let this be a lesson to you, gentleman: pick on someone your own size!"

All four combatants were breathing hard, James and Sirius quite dazed at having bitten off more than they could chew. There was a pregnant silence, and then:

All four began to laugh. Chortle uproariously. Sirius giggled as he staggered to his feet, then hissed in pain, rubbing the back of his sore head. In the interim, Remus cast the counter-curse to the Langlock spell and helped James, then Peter, to his feet.

"Well, you lads are certainly more than I gave you credit for!" James chuckled, grin sheepish, nervous. "My good man, are you really a first year?" he asked of Remus. "You duel like someone in fifth about to take their OWLs!"

Remus chuckled bashfully. "Let's just say I have a lot of time my hands during summers; reading spell books helps pass the days."

James grinned with newfound respect. "It shows." He turned embarrassedly to Peter and held out his hand. "James Potter, and this prat with his arse in his hands is Sirius Black. You're quick on your feet there!"

Peter beamed at the praise. "Bit of an irony in that, isn't there?"

"I should say!" James laughed. "They should put your name up in lights with the great Aurors – lights six feet high! Uh…." He turned absently to the stout little boy. "What is your name, my good fellow?"

"Peter. Peter Pettigrew."

"Peter Pettigrew! P-E-T…. T…. E….." James faltered, then chortled it off. "Well, never mind that! We're wasting precious time. Best get to class." He now took in Remus. "But if you lot are coming along, we've got to know who you are!"

"My name's Remus. Remus John Lupin, at your service." And the hale lad bowed slightly.

James dipped his head in deference, while Sirius flung a friendly arm about Remus's shoulders.

"Well, Remus John Lupin – Merlin, what a name! - why don't you join us for a spell? Geddit? Spell?"

He was heartened when the other fellow laughed uproariously at a joke even Sirius knew was bad. Linking arms, the four boys headed up the corridor, no longer enemies, but friends.