Summary: Extremes can be frighteningly similar. Hotheaded adolescent wizards fight on both side of the line, but how far will the Marauders go in their fight against the Dark Lord? How far to go before the atrocities committed on both sides reflect each other exactly? And when will common sense win through?

A/N: This is probably going to be a long one. Inspired by a conversation between some fellow history geeks about the similarities between communism and fascism; details worked out with the help of MoonlitLightning. Thanks for reading, reviews highly appreciated. Many thanks to those who have already R & R'd!

Tapping his foot and fidgeting. Checking the time and gnawing his thumbnail. Peter's watery blue eyes skittered across the dark hallway. Waiting to be caught. Waiting to be thrown out of school, to be given detention, to get thousands of points docked from Gryffindor. To be the laughingstock of the entire school, or despised by his housemates. Waiting for the catastrophe he knew was imminent. There would be a catastrophe, of course. There had to be. There were always people around at Hogwarts, be it the ghosts or the caretaker. Intelligent animals, even. Mrs. Norris had almost pounced on him more than once since James had helped him become an Animagus like the rest of them.

He was honoured, of course, to be one of them. The Marauders. It was a name respected and revered throughout the school. It was a name that had his own name attached to it, one Peter Pettigrew, halfblood from nowhere in London. Not particularly tricky in class like Remus, not smart and handsome like James or Sirius, but still one of the Marauders. It earned him respect. Everybody looked up to him because he was attached to them.

Unfortunately, that schoolwide respect would win him nothing when they got caught. If, if. It might not happen. Sirius planned it out. Peter was never sure if Sirius really liked him though. Sirius Black was a pureblood, probably dating back to Merlin if you went back far enough. His family had status and money, but Sirius was smart enough, popular enough, confident enough to tease his parents with dishonour and not have anything happen to him. His humour was too caustic, though. You could never tell, looking into those eyes, what he was really thinking. Would Sirius set him up for a fall?

James liked him, that Peter was sure of. James Potter, pureblooded as Sirius but twice as confident, twice as self-assured, three times as egotistical. They had been friends ever since Peter spilled a rather volatile potion on Severus Snape (purely on accident, though James didn't need to know that) their first year. James protected him when needed, kidded around, but didn't take anything seriously. Peter could trust James.

Back and forth, pacing in front of the door in the dark hallway. The short, rather rotund sixth year jumped nervously as claws scraped across the stone wall a few paces to the left. He didn't know what it was. He didn't want to know. His thumb was red-raw now, close to the point of bleeding. Peter was going to have a small heart attack if the other three didn't come out of the Trophy Room soon.

Peter nearly did have a heart attack as he felt something tap him on the shoulder. The boy whirled, excuses ready to bubble from his lips, blue eyes already welling up with patently pathetic tears. Please, professor, I was sleepwalking, I woke up, where am I? Professor, it wasn't my fault, I swear! Professor, please don't give me detention. Please don't expel me.

White teeth gleamed in the dark, a not-entirely-reassuring smile from Sirius Black. Even with his ridiculous Muggle style haircut everybody agreed that he was handsome. Not in the way that James was, though. Sirius had always been darker, more prone to ironic humour and cynicism. Even his eyes were dark, appearing black in the light. Or, rather, the lack of light. Wandering around Hogwarts after curfew was not something for the weak at heart to do. Again, Peter wondered how Sirius felt about him, really.

"Come see," his voice was low and amused. Peter hesitantly walked through the Trophy Room door, leaving Sirius to stand guard. Sirius always made a lousy guard. He was too cocky and made too much noise. Well, maybe that was just Peter's own paranoia that was making him say that, but still. Leaving an important job like standing guard to someone like Sirius Black…it made him nervous.

When Peter let go of the door handle, he left a smudge of blood where his thumb had been.