A/N: Welcome back, dear reader! Thanks so much to all my reviewers for their advice and kind words! :) I hope you enjoy the newest installment of the first Heroic!Peter story on the 'net!

Rise of the Fourth Marauder

Chapter 3

Rat's Ascent

I soon realized, after I'd had a chance to skim a few books, that becoming fluent and powerful in magic would be an incredibly complex endeavor. I immediately began to have serious doubts that I really could "take" Dumbledore in a duel, but I purposefully pushed such doubts from my head – they could do nothing to aid my new purpose in life, so I had no use for ANY doubts, any longer.

I also quickly realized that I would need a secure, isolated place of my own to practice magic. Madam Pince threatened me with a lifetime ban from the library if I didn't, after all.

Thus, I found myself going to my Head of House's office for advice, deciding to keep my visions a secret from her.

McGonagall looked instantly concerned to see me standing in her doorway when she answered my knock. "Oh, for heaven's sake, Mr. Pettigrew! What have you and your little band done to compromise the safety of the school this time?"

I laughed nervously. "N-nothing, Professor. I actually came to discuss my development as a wizard. D-do you have a moment?"

McGonagall blinked and eyed me suspiciously. "Shame on you if you think I'll fall for the same trick twice, Mr. Pettigrew! I'll not have you distract me so that Mr. Potter and Mr. Black can…"

"Professor, this is VERY important to me," I said, looking at her seriously. "And I haven't even talked to my friends all day. I'm here on my own terms."

She hesitated and then sighed. "I must be getting soft in my old age, for I believe you." I privately thought she was far from old age at this point, but whatever. "Come in, then, Mr. Pettigrew – BRIEFLY! I am a very busy woman, you realize."

I nodded and followed her in, noticing that I was no longer even vaguely as nervous of her as I had been for the previous four years. My newfound determination must be easing my anxiety. The room seemed quite cold, clinical, with no noticeable decoration or anything else that wasn't completely necessary.

"Now then, what can I help you with?" she asked as she smoothed her dress and sat behind her ridiculously tidy desk.

"Well, Professor," I said, wetting my dry lips with my tongue, "I have recently come to a…er…an epiphany. I want to become much, much more knowledgeable of spells in general, and, um, I-I want to become much more powerful than I am currently."

McGonagall looked at me austerely. "May I ask…why you are only now addressing the problem of your extreme lack of magical proficiency?"

I didn't fancy explaining the whole vision of the future extravaganza to her, so I thought a moment and said, "I want to be a valuable member of wizarding society, and I realized that I'll very likely amount to precious little if I don't shape up my studies. Besides, when is it ever wrong to seek to better one's self?"

She sighed and leaned her head on her upturned fist. "There are many instances where embarking on a sudden quest for power turns out to be something quite dangerous, Mr. Pettigrew, both for the student and their peers. I surely don't need to remind you of the sixteen Dark Lords since the Dark Lady Morgan le Fay."

I smirked. "I can assure you, Professor – I'm not about to touch anything dark. I only want to better myself and be the best wizard I can. I'm even prepared to forego spending time with my friends to do this."

"I should hope so, if you are indeed telling the truth." McGonagall said, twirling her wand absentmindedly as she continued to stare me down. "I suppose there's no harm in giving you a chance to, as you say, better yourself. I doubt you could do much damage even if you did go off the deep end, given your current power level."

I was offended by that remark, but ignored it. "Brilliant, Professor. What, um…do you have any advice on where to start? I don't seem to have much power to draw on, for even the most basic spells…"

"Your power core is, indeed, nearly squib-level, Mr. Pettigrew, which is almost certainly related to your constant lack of confidence in nearly any subject."

I rolled my eyes.

"Don't make faces, you know what I speak is true!" McGonagall said sharply. This was a bit of an eye-opening experience. It seemed that what she truly thought of me was starting to come out. "Secondly, your immersion into magic is surface-level, at best. If you want to keep up with any of your classmates, you'll first need to address these two problems."

"That sounds good, Professor. How do I start?"

She gave me an odd look. "You truly are fired up about this, aren't you?" She cleared her throat. "Normally, witches and wizards naturally develop these two traits as they work through their studies, so Hogwarts doesn't cover the art of furthering one's self in these areas. Being that your magical core and immersion are so…pathetic, I think it's acceptable to make an exception for you."

"I appreciate it, Professor."

She took out a pad of paper – which I soon realized was a pad of permission slips for the Restricted Section – and filled it out for me. "I'm putting down a number of tomes which you will find essential to your betterment. Start with these, at least, and then we'll see what further steps to take."

"Thank you, Professor," I said, smiling cheerfully. What luck! The Restricted Section is mine for the plundering!

"And, if I may make a suggestion, Mr. Pettigrew?"

"Certainly."

"You might want to start by putting some effort into getting in shape," she said, looking at me with evident distaste. I blushed and looked at the floor in shame. "A basic tenant of building one's magical core is this: developing your mind, your body, your spirit, and your soul. A magical core draws energy from the four of these, you see."

"I…didn't know that, Professor," I said, quite interested.

"Obviously, or I'm sure you'd be considerately less rotund, idiotic, dispirited, and undisciplined." McGonagall said sharply. Clearly, she was not going to give me any kind of benefit of the doubt until she saw some results. But she didn't have to be such a mean-spirited bitch about it, either. She continued, "When the four pillars of the core are regularly exercised in the appropriate fashion, a witch or wizard can greatly improve their effectiveness."

As she took a sip of tea, I decided to ask about my other question, "Thank you for your help, Professor, but I have one more question."

"I should hope so."

"R-right," I said, sweating profusely. "Well, I would like a place to practice, in private…to try out new spells, master ones I know, track the progress of my core…"

"Ah! That is a good point to consider. You don't want to destroy anything, or, worse, disrupt anyone with your practice."

"No, of course not," I said with a smile.

She considered for a moment before saying, "What about Hagrid's hut? Would you be comfortable practicing spells on its walls?"

I snorted, thinking she was joking, but quickly recomposed myself when I saw her stony look. "But…won't that annoy Hagrid?"

"I doubt it. The Gameskeeper has been very lonely these past few years. Student visits are increasingly rare, and I think he'd appreciate a bit of explosions on the side of his house, just to liven things up," McGonagall said with a quirk of a smile. I vaguely wondered if she had it in for the half-giant. "The walls are reinforced with charms, runes, and wards laid down by Dumbledore himself, in case you're wondering. As long as those protections remain, you should be able to hit the home from the outside as much as you want without harm."

"Very well," I said, bobbing my head in acknowledgment. "Any chance I could have that request in writing, too?"

"Certainly, Mr. Pettigrew," she said, and jotted out another note for Hagrid. "Although I assure you there'll be nothing to worry about." After she handed it off to me, she remarked, "Now, I do believe we've used too much of each other's time. I will be watching closely." She said by way of warning. I wasn't exactly sure what she'd be watching for, but there was certainly a threat there.

"I'm going to do this, Professor. Mark my words," I said.

"We'll see," she replied, tight-lipped. "Have a pleasant, productive evening."

"You too, Professor."

I exited and took a giant breath of relief. Merlin, I hate talking to that woman. It's like I was suffocating in there!

"HEY PETER!" Lily declared from my immediate right.

"DEAR GOD!" I screamed in fright, summoning all my willpower to remain in control of my weak bladder. "What the…"

"Nothing much, I've just gotten tired of hauling around your certificate from Slughorn all day," Lily said with a quirk of her extremely kissable-looking lips. "Here you are!" She handed the certificate to my dumbfounded self, its text reading "Peter Pettigrew : Honorary Potions Master, for all time" in gilded ink.

"Wow…" I said, momentarily speechless. "But…I lost it at the end there – I don't deserve…"

"Oh, stop beating yourself up for no reason. You brewed at least as much as I did!" Lily grinned. "Slughorn apparently noticed you, despite your projectile vomiting on our dear friend Alice. And I received one as well, of course!" She held hers up and looked at it with something akin to worship.

"I-I guess so," I said, melting under the glimmering power of her electric green eyes. "Tell her I'm sorry, could you? And congrats, of course."

"Not even close to half a problem, Peter!" Lily winked. "And, if you ask me, she deserved it. A little vomit in the face is always a healthy reminder that egos are stupid."

I laughed nervously. "Alright…um…thanks, Lily."

"Of course," she said with a graceful smile before walking (extremely gorgeously) away. MERLIN she's hot!

As I tried to peel my eyes away from her addictive beauty, I jumped (again) when I felt someone spank me. "Bloody hell! Now what?" I cried, my voice cracking.

"Good evening, my good fellow!" Gilderoy Lockhart slurped. "You know; I couldn't help but notice that you're a bit of a pathetic sap around the ladies. Do you disagree?"

"Honestly, Lockhart, I don't really care. I have no hopes for…"

"Ah! But that's not what your eyes say, do they? I'd wager you want a Lily Evans of your own, don't you?"

"Nope, I'm good, at the moment," I said, not in the mood for another of his idiocy sessions.

"Well, that's all well and good," Lockhart said, stopping me with a firm grab of my shoulder, "but, consider how ridiculously gorgeous I am! Just consider it!" He indicated his muscled arm. "I suppose you couldn't help but notice how irresistibly perfect this arm is! Not too musclebound, but certainly not flabby, just…sex. Sex in arm form, you understand."

"I don't understand anything you say at all."

"And also," he said, turning around and thrusting out his arse towards me (I immediately looked anywhere but there). "This arse is the stuff of legend. Girls with arses that pale in comparison to the power of my buttocks oftentimes come up to me and confess to me, "Gilderoy…oh, how I would love to eat a banana split off your gorgeous anal cavity! And, how I wish my arse was as summarily exquisite as yours is!""

"…somehow, I don't believe you," I told him, eyes narrowed in furious annoyance.

"Oh, but it's true," he said. He snapped his fingers twice. "You! The charming Indian girl in the corner! Do come over for a spell!"

Blushing and looking like she might faint at any given moment, Samudrala Patil came daintily over and stood before us, literally drooling at Lockhart.

"My dear, lovely woman, I have a question for you!"

"Unngh…" she moaned in excitement, before quickly catching herself and wiping the saliva from her mouth.

"What do you think of THIS arse?" Lockhart said, lifting up his robe to give her a good luck of his arse in tight, nearly transparent, silky pajama pants.

"Oh my GODS, it's beautiful!" Samudrala screamed in ecstasy, a hand to her breast. "May I…may I touch it?"

"Only you, my dear. Only you."

She moaned, whimpered, and otherwise looked about to explode from happiness as she gently petted his butt in a way that made me feel like I shouldn't be watching. At all. "It's so FIRM!" she sang in astonishment. "And your crack is chiseled just so perfectly! I want to touch it forever! OHH!"

"Now, before you faint – what do you think of my dear friend Peter Pettigrew's arse?"

Samudrala blinked and seemed to notice my presence for the first time (That seems to happen to me fairly often). "Oh! Hi, Peter. You're friends with a lot of famous people!" She continued feeling up Lockhart's arse.

I winked at her. "That's because I'm awesome."

"Apparently," she said with a joking grin. "So…turn around and let's have at it, shall we? If it's alright, that is."

"Um…okay," I said, blushing QUITE red now. I did as she asked, lifting up my robe to reveal my own saggy arse clad in a pair of normal shorts.

"Hmm…well, you do have a promising amount of arse. Way too much, of course, and not attractive at all. But, if you worked to tone it, and make it the best arse it could be, why; I think it could rival even Lockhart's here."

"What? Really?" I asked, bewildered. Lockhart looked quite put out by her comment.

"But it's terrible right now. Just so you know." Samudrala said shortly.

"You are dismissed, young lady." Lockhart said, waving her away.

"C-c-could I maybe have a hug, Gilderoy?" Samudrala wailed.

"I am sorry, my dear, but I have very beautiful, wonderful, and incredible things to do now that are much more important than you. So do be a darling and get the hell away from me, there's a good girl."

Samudrala blushed, giggled as though he had made some kind of funny joke, and scampered up to the girls' dorm.

"Wasn't she just hideous?" Lockhart remarked to me in disgust once she was away.

"I…was actually about to say she was strikingly pretty," I said, quite seriously.

"Well, there's no accounting for taste…" he muttered. "Hmm…it was unexpected, however, that a living, breathing girl, no matter how unsavory, actually thought that your arse might have potential. I may make something of you yet…"

"Well…do…I mean, do you have a way you could make me get more in shape?" I asked, remembering McGonagall's advice. "I just found out that a fit body is an important component of a strong magical core."

"It is the MOST important component, as a matter of fact!" Lockhart said, nodding and running his hands all over his body with an aroused shiver. "That is why I am so intensely powerful. And yes; I believe I do have something that may work for you." He whipped out a vial of a murky, brown liquid. "This marvelous potion, which my beautiful, sexy father managed to create in his youth," (I shivered, disturbed, as he talked about his father in that way) "is a beacon of hope for all who are less than gorgeous in their body's muscular composition." He plopped it in my hand.

"What is it, exactly?"

"It is known as Sexy Syrup, Version 7. The other versions all had severe side effects, but this one has been in circulation for years without a single reported incident," he said, quite cheerfully.

"Okay…" I said, feeling a fair bit dubious about the potion.

"What it does, my dear friend, is develop your body at a much faster rate as you exercise! Your body will become all yummy and scrumptious in mere weeks, as long as you keep up a healthy schedule of exercise, of course."

"Really?" I said, cocking an eyebrow. "And…it really does have NO adverse side effects? Nothing?"

"You're the Honorary Potions Master, my good fellow! Look it over and prove me wrong! I swear by my family's honor that it is a reliable, sexual potion of enormous proportions!"

"Much like my penis," Sirius said as he walked by, with a wiggle of his eyebrows.

"Hi Padfoot," I muttered. He winked and continued out of earshot, with an unidentified Hufflepuff girl in tow.

"NOW! What I suggest to my very valued customers…" Gilderoy continued, undeterred.

"You mean your guinea pigs…"

"…is a regimen of running around the great lake twice a day, drinking this potion prior to the excursion. Running is especially effective for use with Sexy Syrup, Version 7 because it utilizes almost every muscle in the body! After no time at all, you shall witness your body turn into something almost as sexy as I!"

"So…it basically accelerates muscle formation and development, then?"

"That is so correct, it's not even FUNNY!"

"Wow…" I said, staring down at it. "I…guess it can't hurt. I'll give it a try. Where will I get more?"

"My dear fellow, I'll provide you with all the Sexy Syrup, Version 7 you need! You see; you're bringing Gryffindor House down in the looks department. I can't possibly have a fatty like you besmirching my good name!" He patted me twice on the shoulder. "I am relieved you could be persuaded to correct this grave issue of house pride."

"You are FAR too kind," I told him with an exhausted glare.

"Oh, trust me, my good fellow – I know. I know." He galloped away, making sure to click his heels each step.

"I'll honestly be surprised if this works," I muttered moodily to myself.

To say I wasn't at all able to sleep that night would be putting it mildly. I had extremely vivid, detailed nightmares which consisted of replaying those horrific visions…over…and over…and over again. I hadn't ever thought I would be afraid to see someone die if it wasn't me…but I was wrong. I began to fear, on a primal level, that moment that I always knew was coming, when a Killing Curse would irrevocably dispel my friends' lives from their bodies.

I won't even mention the shuddering revulsion I'd suffer from seeing the mysterious white-haired girl's vivid death over and over again. It seemed my mind saw fit to replay that particular vision the most. I never thought I'd fear seeing a girl's nude body…but I began to dread turning that alleyway corner every time and seeing Lucius Malfoy annihilating her from top to bottom. Every damned time. I felt so much anger, despair, horror, my sanity slipping away. I saw little details I missed the first time, like his lips murmuring, "I adore you so much," in the girl's ear. Like her lips murmuring my name over and over and over, even as blood spilled over them. Like his fingers reaching into her eye sockets, puncturing the jelly of her pretty crimson eyes.

I found those visions far more frightening every time I saw them. And it certainly made it impossible to sleep, for I had no desire to continue meditating on such grisly images. All that awaited me in the darkness of slumber was horrific pain and death.

I gave up before long, my body shuddering with silent sobs. Eager for anything to do, even as sleep-deprived as I was, I put on my most form-fitting clothes, slurped Lockhart's stupid potion (which tasted worse than anything Pomfrey had ever used on me) and made my way to the lake, using my Animagus form to avoid detection.

Running was…a challenge. It certainly forced me to come to the conclusion that I was, indeed, extraordinarily out of shape. No visible changes to my body structure seemed to occur so far (and nothing seemed wrong with me, either, other than the normal wear-and-tear of sleep deprivation), so I decided to keep on taking the potion for the next few days to see if something did happen. He did say it would take about a month, anyway.

Not eager to waste time socializing, I decided to eat a quite early breakfast before I cloistered myself in the library for the day. The Great Hall was abandoned, except for one girl seated at the Gryffindor table, who was wearing faded, pink pajamas that clashed magnificently with her bright crimson hair. I at first paid her no mind, besides a few cursory glances – she seemed to not want to socialize, either. Suddenly, however, it hit me, with an incredibly unsettling shudder of horror – I KNEW HER. It was the girl…the unknown redheaded girl from my vision! The one whom I cast the Killing Curse on.

Shaking slightly, I turned to look at her, just to make sure. Yes…yes, it was her. The face matched. Her eyes flicked towards me questioningly, and I abruptly broke my gaze. I wondered many things. What year was she? Why didn't I know her, outside the visions, if she was a Gryffindor? Why…the hell…would I want to kill her in the future?

My food proved quite difficult to eat after realizing the girl I was to murder was sitting just down the table from me. I took a deep, steadying breath, cast Cleaning and Aromatic Charms on myself, and, knees wobbling with anxiety, got up and walked down the table to say hi.

I was so nervous, I could barely think at all. What was I to say to her? How should I act? What if she hates me just like so many other people? My brain was certainly close to shutting down.

I nearly flinched when her eyes – a deep chocolate brown, whose bright light of life I'd seen disappear by my doing many times – looked up at me again. She gave a small grin, with eggs still between her teeth. I had to smile back a little, from the sight. She seemed friendly enough, at least.

"Ah…good morning, um…fellow Gryffindor!" I said awkwardly, but with a smile.

She swallowed her eggs. "Heya, Pete. You're welcome to take a seat, if you want." She talked like we'd known each other for years, strangely.

"Sure, thanks," I said, "Although I'm meaning to get to the Library to study."

"What the hell for? It's 5 AM!" she cried out with a grin. A portrait on the wall shushed her. "Oh, stick it up your gaping arse, you tit!" she told it off. I immediately realized that this was a girl that I could relax and be myself around.

"You told him."

"I know, right? Watch this!" She cocked an eyebrow and farted loudly. "I farted," she informed me, helpfully.

I had been feeling so much stress and terror that day that I broke down laughing, deliriously. I don't think she'd been expecting that response, because she first looked quite shocked, before she joined in the laughter with me.

"S-sorry, I've…had a really rough 24 hours," I said, wiping some tears.

"Oh, right! I saw you get denied, hard, by that Alice bitch," the girl said, looking sympathetic. "I'm terribly sorry about that. She's a total skank anyway, though. You're better off without her."

"I'm…are you serious?" I asked, stunned. I'd had such a pristine image of Alice before now. Although, I did know that she'd slept with Sirius…

"Yessir. I can report, Admiral Pettigrew, that Alice Fenten likes to take several men's stiffies up in several of her orifices. Often at the same time. Just kidding on that last part, but I promise that you are NOT missing much. Although, to be fair, a number of the Gryffindor girls, as well as the Slytherin girls…shall we say…play fast and loose with their undergarments?"

"Shit..." I sighed, leaning back. My heart felt stabbed…again. "I thought she was so innocent."

"And there's the fact that she's been with so many guys and she still didn't want you," the girl said with a saucy wink.

I glared at her. "Hey now! There's no reason to be nasty."

"Just pointing out the obvious," she said, shoveling more omelet sloppily in her mouth.

"And…you're not one of these slutty girls of which you speak?"

"Damn right, BITCH!" she grinned at me. "Not that there's any demand for me whatsoever, mind you."

"I see. So, what's your name?" I pressed the strange girl.

"I was wondering when you'd get to that! HAH! Surely you were intoxicated by my scintillating tongue all this time, weren't you?"

"Nah…you aren't THAT good with words," I teased her.

"My tongue IS gorgeous, though! Have you seen it?" she stuck it out at me to illustrate. It might have been alright, I don't know, but at the moment, it was covered with egg pieces.

"That is quite an attractive sight," I lied. "I can hardly keep from snogging you stupid, as a matter of fact."

She chuckled, in a decidedly unfeminine way – I kind of liked it.

"So…apparently you're not going to give me your name, huh?" I continued.

"Well, see, if I gave you my name, then you'd probably tell your buddies, and they'd tell their buddies, and then it would end up being just a huge invasion of my privacy, now wouldn't it?" She wiggled her eyebrows to punctuate her point.

"…Is…there a reason you don't want people to know your name?"

"No, not really," she said, itching her armpit and sniffing it. "Yeesh, I smell like crap! I was hoping that was you, not me!"

I rolled my eyes. "Alright, well…it's been LOVELY…"

"Tessa. Tessa Prewett," she said, finally introducing herself. "And I'm a year under you, in case you're wondering."

"I was. Desperately."

"Ah, well I'm psyched I could put your fears to rest." She smiled. "I have to pee, just in case you were wondering."

"Good to know. Er, it's nice to meet you, Tessa. I…didn't know there was even a Prewett in school right now."

"I'm…a bit of a black sheep in the family," she said, looking serious all of a sudden. "My mum, Tessie, is, for lack of a better phrase, a raving lunatic. And…Merlin, I HATE that fucking bitch!" she growled. I jumped a little at the sudden hate she displayed towards her mother.

"Um…are you..?"

"Ah! Sorry, sorry!" she said, looking genuinely apologetic now. Talk about strange mood swings. "I just…I have a long, contentious, personal history with my mum…I…didn't mean to weird you out."

"Don't worry, it's okay," I said.

She cocked an eyebrow at me. "You're a lot different than I thought you'd be. You actually seem to give a shit about me."

"What in the world made you think I wouldn't?" I grinned. I never saw myself as an egotistical, uncaring person.

"Let me ask you – did you ever notice my existence...ever…before today?" she said, looking cold still. I liked her wry, witty (albeit juvenile) side more, I think.

"Um…no…I honestly don't remember ever seeing you."

She smirked victoriously. "HAH! No one notices me. Everyone in this school is hopped up on their own ego trips. No one cares about anyone who's not in their face, ever. You wouldn't have ever talked to me, I bet, if it hadn't just been the two of us here, this morning."

"Oh, I don't think…"

"But! Like I said, you seem to actually care. It's weird," she said, smiling again. "I mean, you haven't said much, but I can see it in your eyes. You'd actually like to get to know me. I've never seen someone look at me that way before."

I blushed, spluttered, and looked away at that point.

She chuckled throatily again. "Don't worry, I'm not coming on to you. I wouldn't want to give you nightmares." That was…darkly ironic. "Anywho, I won't fault you for not noticing me all this time. I do my best to not draw attention to myself, anyway."

I wondered why, but shrugged and stood up, saying, "Well, like I said, I have a ton of work to do, so I'm gonna go, but…do you want me to walk you back up to the Common Room, Tessa?"

She looked at me with wide chocolate eyes. "Y-yes, that'd be nice. Thanks, Peter."

With both of us yawning heavily, I managed to guide her pajama-clad body back up to the tower, us enjoying each other's company in a sort of sleepy haze. I couldn't help but sneak peeks at her scrawny self as we went – she didn't seem to be wearing a bra under her purple cotton pajamas, and her breasts, while fairly petite, were still gorgeous (and jiggly) to behold. And the fact that she was leaning on me the entire way was making me feel quite jittery inside. However, as she said before, she did have quite an unpleasant musk about her.

But I didn't mind, actually. It was her unbathed smell, and I was happy. It was a complete experience of her as a person. I certainly didn't have any romantic attraction to her, but I no longer saw her as just an inevitable corpse. I saw her as a true, breathing human, an attractive girl, with doubts, fears, and anger all to her own. A complete person. And I would sooner die than see her die by my hand in this life.

"You know this Dark Lord who's rising? Supposedly murdering lots of people?" I murmured.

"Mm-hmm?" she said sleepily, snuggling against my arm as we stopped in front of the portrait.

"We're going to make it," I told her, giving her a side-hug. "He won't get either of us. I promise."

She looked up at me, blushing a little. "I'm certain he won't. And thanks, Peter…you didn't have to walk all this way with me."

"Oh, you know, Dark Lord and all that," I said with a wink, channeling my inner Sirius. "Anytime, my dear Tessa Prewett."

She saluted me. "It would be an honor, Commandant Pettigrew! Every morning at precisely this hour!"

"I thought I was an Admiral before?" I pouted.

"I changed my mind. You're far too conversational to be an Admiral. Deal with it, BITCH!"

"Fair enough. So, wait…why were you down there so early, anyway?"

"I told you…or, or wait, maybe I didn't," she said, stumbling a bit in her tiredness, "Fine, I'll tell you now, then! I don't like people."

"Really? All people?"

"Besides you and my cousins? Yup. Everybody else can go die a painful death, for all I care," she beamed. If that wasn't future Dark Magic user language, then I didn't know what was.

I chuckled anyway. "Well, I'm glad I made the cut."

"A very esteemed position, to be sure. Now, go away before you start annoying me or some shit," she commanded.

"Alright! Have a nice sleep!"

"You have a nice, steamy library time! Oh, and Peter…do try not to look at my breasts so often next time. I mean, I know they're pretty glorious, but…"

"I didn't…I mean, I wasn't…I didn't really…" Wow. I'd…never been caught before. Or at least called out on it.

"Uh-huh, yeah, sure. You won't look at them, if you value your life! Muahahaha!"

I rolled my eyes. "I didn't mean to, I promise. But I'll be more careful next time."

"Hey Peter."

"What?"

"Check out these BREASTS!" she exclaimed, moving her breasts around hyperactively with her hands. Needless to say, I was unable to not look. "HAH! You pervert!" she beamed, running up and kicking me in the knee. I gasped from the sharp pain and glared at her.

The fat lady in the portrait finally spoke up. "I say, you are most annoying, young Prewett girl!" I was starting to agree.

"You know what you can do? You can go fuck yourself!" Tessa informed the fat lady.

"Well, see ya," I said, turning and heading to the Library, getting the feeling that Tessa was actually trying to scare me off…as she said, she really despised being noticed at all.

And I know as well as anyone – if you don't want to be noticed by anyone…

...then you've got something to hide.

I pushed Tessa and the visions from my mind as I delved back into my books, starting with the ones McGonagall recommended, knowing all too well that my own magical core and magical immersion were holding me back from successful casting. I threw myself first into the nature of the magical core. According to McGonagall's recommended author, Miles Turkell, each of the four pillars of the magical core contribute equally to healthy spellcasting. It's nearly impossible to cast O.W.L.-level and higher spells without mastering each of them. Here's what Turkell wrote about Pillar Augmentation:

"For the Body pillar, a wizard must trim his body of all fat. Magic will not accept a body that is not suitable to its tastes – like the other pillars, the Body is essentially a sacrifice to the espers and umbers of magic. They will take offense if a Body is offered for their use if and when the wizard is even marginally unhappy with it. A perfected Body pillar will, once accepted, serve as a conduit for espers and umbers, their particles running through the arteries and sinews of the wizard. Once in shape and completely accepted by magic, a proper body may become magically sustained, enabling the wizard to remain fit and healthy on magic's input alone, allowing for a youthful appearance far into old age. As long as the wizard and magic have mutual faith in each other, the body will be sustained.

"For the Mind pillar, a wizard must develop an honest fascination and dedication to the pursuit of knowledge, putting it above all but the requisites of the other three pillars. A wizard with a fit mind will feel excitement and joy from learning new information, no matter the subject. He will then consult problems he encounters with his enlightened mind first, before acting blindly. Lastly, he will impart his knowledge to others, demonstrating a deep appreciation for knowledge beyond himself. Once magic accepts a wizard's mind as an offering, a wizard should feel an unnatural clarity of thought, to the point where he no longer needs to study and is guided to making his own discoveries and insights through the hand of the espers and umbers of magic. He will feel compelled, where he had not before, to write tomes describing his new finds, recording them in magical history for all time.

"The latter two pillars are much more difficult to augment on one's own." Seriously? "For the Spirit pillar, a wizard must embrace the essence of life, finding a true appreciation for living and all things that live, even the smallest particles." I rolled my eyes here. "He must delve into the traits of joy, patience, hope, and love, live through those traits and understand them on a primal level. The wizard must also learn to put his complete faith into the will of magic and all spirits and people, even his enemies." Wow. This one really does sound difficult…to read without snickering, that is. "To assist in the wizard's delving into this spiritual awakening, I have provided eight ancient, transcendental meditations that, if followed to the letter, especially in regards to their emotional components, will go a long way towards perfecting a wizard's spirit." Thank goodness. "A wizard with an accepted spirit will feel magically reassured, content, and jovial to the extreme." That sounds lovely. I almost didn't want to read about the Soul pillar, but I really had no choice.

"Finally, the Soul pillar is the center of the magical core, and as such, is the most important piece to develop correctly. A wizard's soul is their primary magical identity, as it resides in all of magic. A wizard must learn to trust and value his own existence and understand his links with others in wizarding kind – that is, he must develop an appreciation for all wizards' souls and their singular oneness, purpose, and, contradictorily, their individuality. He must love himself unconditionally, while simultaneously shedding the trappings of the unreal. He must seek to be in love with magic, understanding that, without it, his soul would never exist. We are all begotten of the espers and the umbers that perpetuate magic, which is, in essence a physical manifestation of each wizard's soul. Similarly to the process for augmenting one's Spirit pillar, I have endeavored to include a number of ancient meditations and rituals that will develop a wizard's soul satisfactorily. A wizard with an accepted soul will cease to have nightmares, and feel unnaturally confident and powerful." Wicked. That sounds pretty good.

I immediately flipped through to find the instructions for the meditations and was dismayed to see that they all required several Magical Runes before they could be performed. I wasn't awful in Runework, but I certainly didn't trust my talent in the field enough to place my mind, soul, and spirit in its care. So, apparently, the first thing I'd have to do was freshen up on my Runework abilities.

After considering this, I opened McGonagall's other recommended book: About Magical Immersion, by Stephen Cyanwood. This one was much less philosophical and comfortingly forthright. It seemed to indicate that there is a universe within ours composed entirely out of rich, potent magic, in its raw form (the espers and umbers that Turkell seemed so fond of) and that witches and wizards (yes, Cyanwood saw fit to acknowledge that females exist, unlike Turkell) can attain a far more fluent relationship with magic if they pour themselves into this realm, dissolving the self into magical particles, then intermingling, communicating, and even becoming intimate with magic itself. I found the chapter on "Seducing and Lovemaking with Magical Particles" to be endlessly entertaining, and strangely erotic, in its own completely psychotic way. Cyanwood also imparted that crafting magical spells could only be done when a witch or wizard fully immersed themselves in magic, although this is a process requiring extraordinary willpower and focus, and a lack of either could result in the witch or wizard's immediate murder by the particles of magic themselves.

Bloody lovely. I was certainly interested, however, and I had no doubts that powerful new spells of my own make would be quite beneficial in a duel against Dumbledore or Voldemort, if only for the element of surprise and a guaranteed uncertainty of how to counter it.

I spent the rest of the day re-learning all my as-of-yet-unmastered spells from my first four years (which I didn't need an augmented Magical Core to perform), unleashing them on Hagrid's cabin until I could consider them mastered, and throwing myself into the process of learning Runework.

I was more excited all day than I could ever remember being before.

(Three days later)

I was still trying to find a good routine, with which to make the most of each day. After getting the opposite of a good night's sleep every morning, I would reliably feel the desperate compulsion to go jogging around the lake.

I was surprisingly pleased with what I recognized as progress in my body's development. I was losing absolutely no weight so far, but it my bulk was becoming reassuringly firm all around. The beginnings of muscle were also starting to ache themselves into existence. Surprisingly, my complexion was beginning to clear up quite a bit, too. So far, it seemed my shaky faith in Sexy Syrup, Version 7 had paid off. For once, I was no longer ashamed or embittered to look myself in the mirror. It felt good…addictively so…to actually not completely hate my appearance.

Then came studying, which was still more or less disorganized, since I was still in the process of developing my Runework, which, after mastered, would serve as a gateway to several other avenues of training. I desperately needed to make a plan, to make better use of my time.

I had done my absolute best to avoid any distractions, which unfortunately meant distancing myself from my friends. Remus, bless his heart, sometimes shared a table with me in the library for a few hours, studying alongside me. It was comforting to have his friendship, but I simply didn't have the time or the effort to waste on keeping up pleasantries with him or the others, so I regretfully remained silent as often as possible, pausing only to ask him questions here and there. I don't think he minded…at least, I hope he didn't. Sirius and James seemed more or less accepting of my sudden, self-imposed cloistering, as well, but who knows what they really thought.

That wasn't my primary responsibility, unfortunately. I brought my research books with me to lunch, to the dorms, and to all my classes. If I ever felt even a hint of laziness creep up on me, asking my higher functions for a break, all it took to get rid of that instinct was a simple reflection on my daily nightmares, those horrific deaths… and my resolve would become twice as strong, once more.

I was studying silently at lunch when my family owl, Blackavar, glided into the Great Hall and delivered a rune-covered package. I beamed, fed Blackavar some treats, and held the heavy package to my chest – it was clearly the Pettigrew Family Grimoire! While it was common practice for Ancient Families, like mine, to deny weaker members of the family access to their respective grimoire, it seemed I had guessed accurately that my family, power-hungry as they are, would leap at any opportunity to make me less of a family embarrassment by any and all means.

"Oi, what's that, Peter?" James asked, his piercing eyes looking at me calculatingly.

"I haven't the foggiest," I lied with an elaborate shrug. "Whatever it is, it's bloody decked out with runes."

"Your family's pretty Dark, aren't they?" Sirius reasoned, slurping down some soup. "Maybe it's a booby trap or something, since you're not aligned with them."

James smirked at him. "You just said that as an excuse to say the word 'booby,' didn't you?"

"You know me too well, dear Prongsie!" Sirius said with a wink. "But you can't pretend to deny that you like the sound of that particular word!"

"Booby…" James said slowly, measuring the feeling of the word on his lips and tongue. "You're right, Padfoot. There is a certain innate enjoyment in that very word, itself."

"Only the best phonetic combinations are reserved for the best things in reality," Sirius pointed out. "Such as…"

"MOVING ON!" Remus interrupted, annoyed, apparently not interested in witnessing a "Sirius Moment" for the time being. "So, Peter, what do you think?

"About…what James said?"

"Well, yeah, I mean, obviously the thing's been padded down with excessive security wards. Your family clearly didn't want Dumbledore or the Castle knowing what's inside, or that it had even arrived here."

"I daresay you're right," I said, pretending to look thoughtful. "I've been trying to get better at my Runework recently – I'll give deactivating the security wards a go. Whatever it is, I doubt it'll be directly damaging. It is addressed from my own mother, after all."

Sirius snorted. "My own mother would not hesitate to lower my body into a cauldron of boiling-hot oil while impaling a pole through my cranium, given the chance. Just saying."

"Even so, I'm on good terms with my family, so I feel certain that I'll, at the very least, be unharmed by opening it."

"I dunno, Peter," James said, slurping his pumpkin juice (Which in turn inspired me to drink some of mine. Fucking delicious, that stuff.) "I think you should turn it in to McGonagall. That package gives me a bad feeling."

"Really, Prongs? YOU of all people want to hand something over to a teacher?" I said, exasperatedly. "Look, it's fine, I can handle it."

The other three shared a look of dubiousness.

"Whatever," I growled, feeling a pressing need to go rip this grimoire wide open. I excused myself and fled to Hagrid's hut, seating myself against the back wall after greeting the gigantic man.

I took out parchment and made note of every single security ward I could find, realizing, with some excitement, that they weren't actually as secure as they looked at first glance – it seemed my mom purposefully made them barely functional, in order to allow me to slip in and unlock it without any trouble.

After ten minutes of making runes and thereafter casting the requisite charms, I had successfully broken in to my own package. Delighted at my small victory, I ripped the package open like it was a Christmas present. I was not disappointed – there, in all its Ancient, rustic, bloodstained, leather-bound glory, awaited the Pettigrew Family Grimoire.

"Thank Merlin!" I grinned, opening the enclosed envelope and reading a brief message from my loving mum, telling me how proud she was of me and how grown up I was being. She said she always knew I had a Slytherin side, and that I was to show her that I'd made use of the grimoire over the winter holidays. Lastly, she informed me on the process for opening the ancient tome.

I removed the heavy book from what was left of the package, pricked my palm on the supplied needle in the center of the cover, and smeared my running blood in a circle around the circumference of the family crest, which took up most of the book's surface. I was rewarded when the crest began glowing, welcoming me to access its secrets.

I quickly took to reading, with intensity and excitement in my very blood. The pages, all smeared with the blood of my ancestors, told of the ancient arts of the Pettigrew family. Apparently, the practice was for each generation of the family to contribute a massive dose of espers and umbers to two primary spells, which only family members could use, accordingly. The two spells were the Pettigrew Obliteration Spell (which would produce VERY accurate arcs of constantly detonating umbers, which could break through practically any defensive spells) and the Pettigrew Earthrend Spell (which, using a combination of trillions of espers and the forgotten art of Earth Magic, could create an enormous barrage of stalagmite spikes to erupt towards the target). The grimoire lauded these two spells' capacity for destruction to the heavens, claiming that they're far more powerful than any other ancient families' spells. I severely doubted that, but I nonetheless enjoyed reading my ancestors' handwriting.

Only people with incredibly well-developed magical cores could access these spells, and the Pettigrew would also have to undergo an extremely painful-sounding ancient rite to gain their use. I immediately vowed to harness the power of these spells, at whatever expense necessary.

The rest of the grimoire was interesting, but not especially helpful. It did, however, give lots of advice and strategies for pureblood politics that I found fascinating. More fascinating were instructions it gave to craft a relic made of solid gold that could enable a Pettigrew to have a much easier time with Transfiguration. It seemed my family has a particular lack of skill in the subject, so this device could help Pettigrews compensate for their lack of competency in the subject. Such a device could only be beneficial, so I set forth to make it.

(Two weeks later)

Although I'd tried to keep an eye out for the mysterious Tessa Prewett, it seemed she was as keen as I was on avoiding giving anyone the light of day. It was no wonder that I'd never noticed her before – the girl seemed to know exactly what parts of the Gryffindor common room and the other parts of the school were covered in shadow, and opted to hide in those places whenever possible. I was very interested in her, but I also had more important things to do, so I didn't go out of my way to talk to her, although I certainly did make cursory attempts to converse with her whenever the chance presented itself.

She seemed consistently pleased at the company, but would always quickly excuse herself, almost always at the precise instant I'd feel the need to go back to my studies. It was damned odd. Another strange thing about her was her perpetual lack of cleanliness. For someone who complained about her smell as much as she did, she never seemed to make any attempts to change her general unkemptness in her appearance, behavior, and smell. I had no explanation for it, other than the fact that she might simply be a loon. Her hair was ratted and disheveled, her robes stained, unbuttoned, and torn, and her face constantly smudged in dirt. I sort of felt sorry for her, but it was also hard to feel that way when she seemed so unmotivated to do anything to change it.

I, on the other hand, was feeling very confident about my appearance! Lockhart's stuff was working its magic quite reliably on me. Surprisingly rock-hard muscles were now rippling on all parts of my body, and my arse had, indeed, been toned to be one of considerable shapeliness (in my opinion, at least – obviously, I'm not an expert on male assets). Such changes had gone almost entirely ignored though, which first made me think it was perhaps all in my head, until one day when McGonagall made a passing compliment on my athletic progress.

I was delighted, of course, since it was she who tasked me with it in the first place, but it also made me realize just how ignored I was by most people. I looked a LOT different now, and ONLY my Head of House noticed. That's pretty sad. I hadn't noticed until then just how forgettable my classmates saw me as being. At least Tessa seemed to make an actual effort to avoid public awareness. No one apparently give a flying shag about me.

However, that played into my mission a bit; the more time I had to myself, the more time I had to better myself.

I arrived at DADA class today alone, as usual. This was quickly becoming my favorite class, as it typically allowed me to practice any new spells and my freely express personal reign over my own magic.

The other three Marauders were already seated. After I hesitated a bit, unsure of how they'd receive me, I went over to join them. Sirius already seemed in the midst of a Sirius Moment.

"So all of a sudden," he said, "There was this bloody obese cow that showed up, just flopping onto the ground in front of my house! It was lost, so Peter and I naturally tried to take it home, but it was fucking heavy, obviously, so then we performed a Levicorpus on it…"

I shared a look of bewilderment with James and Remus.

"And then Narcissa showed up to visit me, for some reason. And she and I played Wizarding Chinese Checkers for a long time. It was so bloody real! I could feel and smell everything! It was mad, the level of detail! I'm telling you, this was more than a dream!" He leaned forward to us and whispered, "It was a vision…of the future."

Immediately, the three of us descended into laughter, which visibly irritated Sirius.

"I'm pretty sure that was just a regular dream, Sirius…" Remus informed him patiently.

"Nope. It was the future. You're all just jealous!"

James chuckled and leaned forward, tears streaming. "Alright, suppose it was a vision of the future…how, in the BLOODY hell, did you find out from the cow that it was lost?"

"I dunno, I guess it told Peter so. I heard it from him." I could see the gears superfluously whirring in Sirius's mind behind his eyes. "It must be a cow Animagus!"

I smacked my grinning face with my palm. "Clearly. And why would someone, hypothetically, want a bloody cow as their Animagus form, hm?"

Sirius chuckled. "I already thought about that one. I suspect they just like having milk pumped out of their plump, perky nipples so much that they just wanted to be able to give milk at all times!"

"And…why was this cow Animagus so fat?" James asked with a large grin.

"Probably cuz she never gets shagged, you know? So she just put on a bunch of weight and gets her only pleasure in life from getting her nipples sucked." Sirius looked far too pleased with himself for just uttering such a completely idiotic sentiment. This was DEFINITELY a Sirius Moment.

"Sirius…" Remus said with a weary sigh. "Perhaps you should look at this…vision…not as a glimpse of the future, but, perhaps, a metaphor for something you're thinking about at the moment."

"But the dream didn't have Hestia Jones begging to slurp my fat pecker in it," Sirius said skeptically.

"No, no, not what you're ACTIVELY thinking about," Remus said quickly. "While you sleep, the brain deals with your subconscious thoughts and desires by manifesting them in a dream in some way."

"I agree with Remus," I put in. "You should try to think about what it might really mean."

Sirius still looked skeptical. "But…it felt so REAL…I could smell her perfume…it was cherry blossom, and so incredibly intense."

"Right, so, why was Narcissa suddenly in the dream, for instance?" I asked hypothetically. "And you clearly abandon the cow-moving plot alongside me to give in to her wishes."

"Wait -" Sirius said, standing up with a glare. "You're not accusing me of having the hots for my little cousin, are you?"

"Uh, no, not in the slightest," I said, cocking an eyebrow. Where did that conclusion come from? Suspicious. "I was just about to suggest that a buried part of you still questions your move to forsake your family. Choosing her over me, and…the cow…could signify you wanting, without realizing it, to choose the Blacks over the Marauders."

"NEVER!" he vowed with a violent sweep of his hand (and a small spray of saliva).

"Peter's right," James said, nodding approvingly.

"Are you calling me a traitor?" Sirius demanded.

"No, stupid," Remus said with a roll of the eyes. "Subconscious means it's something that's either buried and you don't realize you think that, or that you have suppressed those feelings in light of what your active mind believes. Neither of those situations would make you a traitor to the Marauder cause."

"Oh, right." Sirius beamed and sat back down, all hostility quite easily dissipated.

"Wow. Anyway, how are you doing these days, Wormy?" James queried, not actually looking at me.

"Busy, really," I said, drumming my fingers on my textbook. "In light of all these rumored attacks, I've decided, as I've said before, to try to get myself up to speed in Defense, just in case the worse happens, you know."

"I see," James said, his eyes turning towards me. Before he got a chance to say anything else, our Defense Professor this year, Professor Hightower, strode into the room. She had a Mediterranean complexion and, oddly for a woman, a completely shaved head. She was also fairly young and attractive, but rumours had it that she played for the other team…

"Please forgive my tardiness, students," she said with a friendly smile. "Have you all been able to successfully cast an Incarcerous?"

Frightfully few spoke an affirmation. Professor Hightower sighed. "You lot…alright, how about we have a few demonstration duels, using only Incarcerous and the Shield Charm? Who would like to give it a go?"

The Marauders and I all raised our hands, along with Lily, Mary MacDonald, Snape's posse, and a handful of others.

"Fair enough. Let's see…how about…Mr. Pettigrew, thank you for volunteering, dear, and….Mr. Snape, there's a good lad."

That certainly got people interested – there was a palpable intake of breath throughout the room. The Marauders whooped and hollered in support of me, while the Slytherins sang Snape's praises. Snape gave me an ugly sneer, which I returned with a bit of a cocky grin. This was going to be entertaining.

Once Snape and I were in place on the dueling mat in the front of the room, we patiently turned to regard the Professor.

"Standard dueling rules apply. The duel is decided when one combatant is unable to continue or touches the floor off the mat." She looked between us, intently. "Now, I know you two have a personal history," (here, she was momentarily interrupted with cheers of anticipation from the audience – I could see the obvious anxiety of the Gryffindors in my being selected, whereas the Slytherins all looked quite relaxed and pleased with themselves.) "but do remember that you may ONLY use either Incarcerous or Protego, no other spells. Discipline will be harsh if either of you go against these rules."

"Just get on with it, dyke!" Snape seethed, his black eyes burrowing deep into mine. He was trying to intimidate me, of course. But it wouldn't work.

The Professor glared at him, but said, "Very well – on your marks…get set…"

Before she even said "GO," Snape nonverbally cast three Incarcerous spells. It's an invisible spell, but I could sense the espers he cast tunnel swiftly towards me through the air.

To save time, I collapsed to the ground, rolled out of the way as the chains blasted into existence right above and next to me, and sent an Incarcerous of my own towards his feet, verbally (I hadn't yet mastered nonverbal spells).

He jumped over my spell and sent another one surging towards me.

I cast a shield charm as I got to my feet, thereafter launching Incarcerous after Incarcerous towards different points around the ceiling, holding them in stasis for now. Snape frowned and continued his frontal assault, which I sidestepped via my magical immersion.

"How the FUCK are you doing that?" Snape raged, his face contorted with ferocity.

"What, this?" I asked blithely, summoning down the assortment of Incarcerous from the ceiling, which rained down on him from a variety of different angles.

"HAH!" he gloated, deflecting them all with a massive Protego over his head. I was counting on that, however, since Protego produces only a half-sphere shield. His lower body was completely vulnerable.

So, as soon as he cast the upper Protego, I blasted an Incarcerous of my own to his feet, successfully making contact!

"YES!" I crowed, casting several more over his body as he tried, futilely, to break them off with more Protego.

"This isn't over! This isn't…BLEEHHGH! UGHH!" He was silenced as my chains tightened around his face, neck and throat. "GEH!" he coughed, followed by a pained moan. Foam bubbled up from his lips.

"Professor!" Lily cried in alarm.

Professor Hightower, who had seemed to be enjoying Snape being strangled as much as I did, reluctantly declared. "This duel goes to Mr. Pettigrew!" and issued the counterhex.

I was treated, to my surprise, to a standing ovation from my housemates, to whom I grinned and blushed, after which I bashfully left the stage to rejoin my peers. As I was pat on the back by the blokes and cheered for by several girls (Alice refused to make eye contact with me still, however), I turned my eyes back to Snape, who remained lying on the stage. My rage had certainly gotten the better of me up there, and, despite it being Snape, I regretted doing that to him. I could hear his neckbones cracking from the force of my chains.

His eyes glowered at me in pained, cold fury as the Professor told him to show himself to the hospital wing.

"Right on, mate!" Sirius said, offering me a tight hug that snapped me out of my staring contest with the Slytherin.

"You did us proud, Peter," Remus told me with a clasp of my shoulder. "I'd say your time in the library is bloody well paying off."

"Bloody right, it is! You showed that slimy git his place!" James grinned from behind, but I could see that his support for me didn't reach his eyes. He was clearly bothered by something…most probably my absence.

Unfortunately for our friendship, that wasn't about to change anytime soon.

A/N: Hello, all! I hope you enjoyed that! :) I deeply appreciate everyone who has reviewed thus far, and I dearly hope to have the honor of your continued readership!

I'm getting a kick out of the story so far, and I hope you are, too! I'm finding Harry Potter fanfiction to be much easier to get myself pumped up for writing than the other fandoms I wrote for in the past…it must be because all I ever read on the site are HP fanfics, so it's a huge treat to be able to supply one of my own!

As always, I'm VERY interested in your feedback on ANY part of the story, positively or negatively. Reviews are the only thing that makes writing fanfiction worthwhile, for me, anyway, so please give it a shot and tell me what you think. :) And, once more, any input on where you want this to go, plotwise, would be remarkably appreciated.

Also, what did you think of my OC, Tessa Prewett? She's the only daughter of Ron's great-aunt Tessie, the same Tessie whose dress robes he likely inherited in Goblet of Fire. She has many secrets, much more to do, and will have a large impact on the plot…at least, the way I'm planning things at the moment.

Lastly, the Pettigrew Obliteration Spell is supposed to be the dark explosive spell he used in canon at the moment when he frames Sirius and kills the other muggles.