Prologue

A door shut quietly, then the sounds of several locks being shut was heard. That was the only sound present in the modest house, despite the small child playing on the floor of the kitchen. The child, despite his young age, was aware of the tense atmosphere in the house, and quietly played with his ragged stuffed dog and his imaginary friends. The unpleasant smell of singed soup burning on the stove greeted the nostrils of the father, who had just finished the set of complicated locks. He hurried through the house, pausing at the doorway of the kitchen, calling out a short greeting to his son. His son beamed up at his father, giving him a slight wave as he passed through. The two were very close since no other children lived in the area, The boy was very advanced for his age, and with a lack of friends brought forth a surplus of knowledge. The boy was from a magical family, his father was a wizard. His mother didn't have any magic, but she gladly supplied the boy with books to further his knowledge. At the age of two he had displayed his first talents of magic, and was able to show surprising control over it. His mother encouraged it, while his father was a bit wary of the power such a small child wielded. As a result, his mother was closer to the son of the two parents, and the fact that she didn't work added to the closeness of the two. His mother was the individual being searched for in the small house, as the father started upstairs to find her. The child heard the sound of a door being closed, and the murmur of low voices could be heard. The boy was curious, wondering why his parents why his parents were bothering to hide their conversation from him. They were very open as a family, and never in the boy's memory could he remember a conversation that didn't include him. He was a rather polite child, even at a young age, but his curiosity often got the better of him. So the boy started his way up the stairs, trying to avoid the many that squeaked. Finally he crouched at the base of his parent's door, clutching his faithful stuffed dog in one hand. There he lay down, straining to hear without being heard himself.

"I just don't know what to do" the father was saying. "the ministry is looking for him, but I don't know if they can find him in time." Here there were footsteps, and the boy couldn't hear anything over the sound of the wardrobe being opened, and the rustling of clothes.

"..careful, it's dangerous to at night, and its especially dangerous to be outside."

The boys ears perked up at that, but then felt the rumble of hurried footsteps on the floor, and quickly fled to his room to escape being caught eavesdropping, as his mom rushed out to save the burning soup.

The next day the child played outside, happily chatting away with his ragged dog and imaginary friends, glad to be in the fresh air with his friends. But when his father arrived home he was shocked to be jerked inside, so fast he couldn't even grab his dog and, as a consequence, his imaginary friends stayed in the yard as well.

"What are you doing out?" His father raged, his face burning with an anger the son had never seen on his face before.

The boy remained silent, unsure how to placate the rage directed at him, and unsure what was so wrong with being outside.

"Well?" His father was still waiting for an answer, but the boy refused to say a word. Instead he turned away to go and find his mother in the kitchen, sure that she would comfort him and sooth his father, and his father turned away and began to redo the intricate design of locks on the door.

Later after dinner the boy was sent to bed early, his parents checking on him to make sure he was in bed. But soon after he heard his parents' door click shut he realized that he didn't have his friends with him. His friends were afraid of the dark, and even though the moon was shining bright through his window, his band of friends couldn't stay outside alone. He remembered what his dad had said just a day before, "it's dangerous at night...especially outside". So he carefully lifted his feet out from under his warm covers, taking no notice of his slippers laying on the floor beside his bed, and ignoring the robe hanging on the bed knob. Silently, he slipped down the stairs, taking great pains to avoid the ever present creaky stairs. His father hated when he got out of bed, even if it was something as simple as getting a glass of water. So the child sneaked down the stairs, trying not to alert his parents to the fact that he was awake. Carefully he came to the door, wary of the new locks. He knew how to unlock the few that were lowest down, but the new ones his father had put in last week were higher up, even standing on a chair dragged over to the door he was too short. The boy closed his eyes in a fleeting moment of desperation and frustration, and realized that he could simply use some magic to open it. He closed his eyes again, this time in concentration unusual for a child this age, and focused his attention on the opening of the last few locks. With a series of clicks the door opened, and the boy dragged the chair away so he could reach the door handle. He walked into the front lawn, taking great joy in the dew that covered his bare feet, and dancing around the moonlight for a fit of childish joy. He remembered his mission then, and walked over to where his dog and imaginary friends had been sitting earlier that afternoon. But to his surprise, although his dog was there, his imaginary friends seemed to have wandered off. So the boy glanced around cautiously, unsure of what to do with this new development. Then he saw one of his friends motioning to him from the lone tree that sat in the center of the fields surrounding his home. He ran over to the friend, overjoyed to have found it, and embraced the air. To any onlooker it would look as though there actually was another being there, since the boy's arms seemed to fit eerily around, as though he actually was hugging someone. Suddenly, the boy heard a low whine from the edge of his lawn, in the tall grass where the field began, and saw a shadow moving.

"Dog?" The boy said, sure that the shadow he had just seen belonged to a larger version of his own stuffed friend. And when he heard a second whine in response to his words, he knew that he was right; there was a dog there.

"Dog!" He cried, this time with confidence and joy present in his voice. He walked swiftly to the creature in the shadows, glad to see such a comforting presence outside. But as he walked closer he saw that it wasn't a dog, it was instead a creature that struck fear into the hollows of his heart. The boy tripped, and within seconds the dog was upon him. And there was pain, hot flashes of burning red pain that forced the boy to faint into blackness.

In the house, upstairs, the mother awoke, hearing growls and shrieks of pain from the yard. She bolted to the window, and upon seeing the horror outside, began shrieking as well. The father awoke in a panic, wondering what had caused this screaming, but the mother could only scream one word in response. Remus.

~Cesso~

Two young boys raced through a house, their footsteps shaking the portraits on the walls. Several of them awoke, and yelled down the hall after the children, but they did not heed their words. A large shriek, made by a very real human, was the only thing that made them stop.

"Quick! " The older of the two whispered, an urgent tone rarely heard to his words. "Get in here before she comes so you don't get in trouble!" He said, as he shoved his brother into a small closet most would overlook.

"Sirius Black!" His mother turned the corner mere seconds after the closet door closed. "I expected better of you! Dung bombs in the punch bowl? Why? If it wasn't your birthday I'd have half a mind to punish you! Honestly! The things I let you get away with! Where's Regulus? You need to get back to the party. For goodness sakes it's being held for you!"

She continued on her rant, never ceasing, and Sirius closed his eyes, letting her words wash over him. As unpleasant as her shrieking was it was ultimately more pleasant than attending his party. There were girls invited, girls! Mere seconds before he and Regulus had thrown the dung bombs into the punch the girls had suggested playing spin the bottle. Sirius knew that he couldn't avoid kissing girls forever, one day he would have to marry one of them, but he wanted to avoid it as long as possible.

With a start Sirius realized that his mother had stopped her lecture and was looking at him expectantly. He, however, had no idea what she wanted him to say. But luck was on his side that day it would seem, just as his mother opened her mouth to begin again, Andromeda rounded the corner and took in the situation.

"Ah! Sirius!" she said, cutting his mother off while grabbing his arm. "we were just looking for you!"

Andromeda was Sirius' cousin, and one if the few people in the family that he could stand. She was older than him, 5 years to be exact, but she had taught him more about the world then anyone else in the family had, and most of the things she taught him would make his mother's head spin. She had even snuck him out of the house a few times under the pretense of visiting someone else, so Sirius had a taste of life outside of his parents. Andromeda had told Sirius the truths of the world, that blood status didn't matter, that everyone really was equal. The things she told him overwhelmed him at time, but she warned him that he could never mention his views to anyone else in his family if he wanted to stay in this family. The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black.

He was shaken out of his thoughts as he heard Andy say to Mrs. Black "Do you mind if I borrow him? The Malfoy's wanted to speak to him." Mrs black stopped her protest as a satisfied glint came into her eyes.

"Yes yes, by all means take him! Sirius, just don't embarrass the family." Mrs Black hurried to say, always terrified that Sirius would cause the family shame with his antics.

Andromeda led Sirius away, and quickly pulled him into the study as they passed it, ignoring his yelp of surprise and protest.

"What?" he said, his sullen eyes forming a pout at his cousin.

"You don't really have to meet the Malfoys. I just said that to get you out of her lecture before she exploded. You really need to learn not to do anything so drastic Sirius!"

"I didn't do anything that drastic! And it's my party, I thought!"

"Sirius, you know as well as I do that nothing is ever for the individual, and everything is done to further the family. But it's every man for himself to keep from falling into this family's traps."

"Huh?" Sirius said, he was newly turned nine, and didn't focus well enough to understand what Andromeda was trying to get him to comprehend.

"Sirius, what on earth possessed you to explode the punch?" She said, her tone stern, but a twinkle in her eyes alerted Sirius to the fact that she wasn't really mad, and in fact was more proud then anything else.

"They wanted me to play spin the bottle! Girls Andy, girls!"

She tried to hide her smile, but failed, and allowed a small chuckle to escape her lips. "Was that really the best solution?"

"Yes."

"Really?" She said, one eyebrow raised.

"What would you have suggested instead?"

"I can't say that I've ever been in that situation, but I'll be sure to let you know if I think of anything. Where did you get the dung bombs?"

"From Uncle Alphard"

"I thought you used them at the Christmas dinner?"

"I used Regulus' today!"

"Sirius? Where's Regulus?" Andromeda's face was alarmed, she hadn't seen the younger of the brothers for quite some time before the punch incident.

Sirius, laughing at the expression on her face, said "He's in a closet don't worry! But it's one that shuts with magic so you'll need to get him out."

"All right" Andromeda sighed, "but then you have to return to the party, you have an image to uphold and have some girls to kiss!"

Sirius groaned, and Andromeda, laughing, had to grab his arm to keep him from running off again, as the two hurried off to save Regulus and keep up appearances as members of such a prestigious family. Toujours pur.

~Cesser~

"Done!" A green eyed boy cried, as he finished the last page of his math work. Despite the fact that he belonged to a magical family his parents insisted that he do plenty of studying in regular subjects before he received his wand. Therefore, he studied at home with a tutor, eagerly counting off the days until he turned eleven and could finally do real magic. He did as much work as any muggle child had to do, and although he resented having to do so much learning, he did learn fast and was quite bright. With this final page of math done his father promised him a surprise, and he was hoping for tickets to a Quidditch game, where his favorite team would be playing. His mind wandered, thinking about being a wizard. He wondered if he'd be any good at magic, he had showed sure signs of being magical, but at the age of six, and was worried that when he finally got to Hogwarts this would be held against him. So he wandered out of the room, part of his brain wishing to find his father and show him his work, the other part wishing to see his mother and have her reassure him.

His feet led him to the kitchen where his mother was baking cookies, and took a minute to grab one that was sitting on a plate already.

"Mum," he started, his mouth full of cookie, "do you think that I'll be a good wizard?"

"Of course you'll be! Don't talk with your mouth full." she scolded, handing him a napkin and brushing a few crumbs off of his shirt.

"Really though, do you think I'll be?" he said, finishing his cookie and reaching for another.

"Yes, I really do. You're smart enough to learn anything that you put your mind to. Don't eat another, we'll be having dinner soon."

"Ok." He said, wiping his hands on his pants, "Where's Dad? I finished my math"

"I think he's in the study" his mother replied. "If you find him tell him that we'll be having dinner in a half hour. I think he has a surprise for you."

"I hope it's Quidditch tickets!" he cried, as he gave his mom a smile and ran from the room to find his father.

Unsurprisingly, the surprise was two tickets to the game, and the boy and his father soon found themselves leaving, the boy being taken by side-along apparition, and finding seats with an excellent view of the field.

"Dad!" The boy shouted, jerking at his father's sleeve some time into the game, "Did you see that!"

"Yes James," his father replied, an amused grin covering his worn face. The teams were in top form, equally matched in talent and the father expected that the game would go on for quite a few hours still.

"Wow!" the boy cried again, accidentally flinging his arm into a boy and a mother crossing in front of him. "Oops! Sorry!"

The boy James had just hit attempted to smile as he tried to pick up his spilled treats.

"It's fine" he said, "No harm done. "

"I'm James! What's your name?"

"Peter- " he looked as though he may say more, but was cut off by another yell from James.

"Spectacular! This is great! Why don't you sit here?" The last comment was directed towards Peter and the nervous looking women accompanying him, who looked as though they were about to go off to their own seats, and pointed to the handful of empty seats beside James.

"I..." Peter started, then trailed off, looking at his mother expectantly.

"I suppose it would be all right" Peter's mother said, looking a bit anxious as she said this, as though someone might contradict her at any moment.

"I'm ten, but I turn eleven it in March! How old are you? Are you going to Hogwarts? Did you see that goal? It's amazing!" James said, firing off questions faster then Peter could respond.

"I'm ten also, and I'll be eleven in May. Yes, I'll go to Hogwarts. This is a good game." Peter said, his face a bit flushed as he tried to keep up with the conversation, he often got nervous in these types of situations, a habit he inherited from his mother.

"Do you collect chocolate frog cards? I've found a couple of really rare kinds. What position do you like on the team best? I think I'd be a chaser if I could be anything. Do you fly?"

The questions came fast, and Peter struggled to remember all of them and answer them in the right order.

"No, but I love chocolate frogs. What have you found? I guess seeker is cool. I don't fly that well, but I do fly."

The two boys continued with their conversation and gradually learned about each other. After the game was over James asked his father if Peter could come and visit sometime, and with a grin James invited Peter over the next Saturday. Peter shyly replied that he would love to come, after a confirming nod from his mother, and left the game, emboldened by his success of making his first friend.

James was thrilled that he had met another wizard. Although his family was pureblooded, and he knew no shortage of other wizarding children, most were older then he was, and therefore not nearly as fun to play with. His parents were a little older then most parents of ten year olds, and most of his parent's friend's children who he saw were either out of school, or close. This all meant that Peter was actually the only wizarding child his age he had met. He smiled, thinking about knowing at least one person when he got to Hogwarts, and hoped that Peter would be in Gryffindor also. James was sure that he was going to Gryffindor. His parents hadn't told him much about Hogwarts but they had told him what the houses were and what they represented. Gryffindors were brave, and loyal. Plus all of his family, and his dad especially, had been in Gryffindor. James looked up to his dad more than anyone else, and he hoped he could be just like his dad when he grew up. But, not quite as old. And more active. Maybe he could be just like his dad, but also a professional Quidditch player?

~Cessare~

A loud thump followed by a shriek woke up Peter, and he awoke with quite a start. He hurried out of his room, after grabbing his slippers and robe, and made his way downstairs.

"Mum?" He said in a worried voice, not seeing his mother in her traditional seat in the living room. She occupied the red rocker in the corner every morning and read the paper, wearing her worn slippers and her hair still in rollers. Once Peter woke up she would rush about to make breakfast for the two of them, and Peter would try not to feel the absence of his father, and his mother would try to not set a third plate on the table.

"Peter!" His mother shrieked as he came into the room. "Oh, Peter, there's a mouse! A mouse! Quick! Do something!"

Peter allowed himself a smile, his mother's fears was a never-ending source of amusement for him, and the sight of mother trying to stand on top of the old rocker was something one didn't have the privilege to see every day.

"Of course Mum, I'll get it." He said, going into the kitchen to grab a bowl or bag, or maybe some cheese. Anything he thought would be useful he grabbed, and made his way back to the living room where his mother was still shrieking. He spent the better part of the morning trying to catch the mouse, small and black, and it quickly hid anytime he saw Peter approaching. His mother yelled the whole time, yelping and scaring the mouse back into the corners. Finally, close to lunchtime, he managed to chase the mouse near enough to the door that he could chase it out with a broom, and shut the door with a sense of self-earned satisfaction.

"So Mum," he began, turning to her, winded and hoarse from shrieking, "do you suppose we could have breakfast?"

On Peter's birthday he was awoken by the sun creeping in his windows, the smell of bacon tickling his nose, and with a grin walked down to the kitchen. There his mother had broken tradition, having already made his breakfast, and the smell of cake in the oven.

"Happy Birthday Peter." She said, a smile playing on her lips.

"G'morning Mum!" He said, glad that his day had started out so well. He was eleven, finally! This was the second most important birthday of his life, and had suspected that this day would never come, that turning eleven was possibly just an elaborate trick that everyone was trying to pull on him. An elaborate plan with a reward too good to be true, and everyone was just going to jump out and say "fooled you!" when he finally got to the day, and find himself twelve, and that eleven was made up, and skipped. On reflection Peter recognized that this was quite foolish of him to think, and possibly one of the most ridiculous theories that he had ever made up, but he supposed that he was worried it would happy any ways.

After breakfast he spent most of the day looking towards the window, just hoping that his owl would arrive soon. He had showed signs of magic, but it was always possible that it wasn't quite enough for an admission for Hogwarts. Hogwarts was another thing he had a theory about, he was suspicious that it was too good to be true, despite assurances from his mother. But by lunchtime a brown speckled owl was seen crashing onto the table, and spilling his soup.

"An owl! My letter!" Peter cried, as he grabbed the letter from the owl, proudly reading the words that confirmed he could attend Hogwarts. So Hogwarts wasn't made up after all! Well, it probably wasn't. He'd have to wait until he saw the school itself to be sure, of course. But all signs were suggesting it really truly was real. He hoped he'd be in Gryffindor, that's where James had said he wanted to go, and he would be ever so glad to know at least one person. But he didn't think he had many Gryffindor-like qualities, he supposed he'd just be in Hufflepuff or something similar. He sighed, but he would think about houses more on the other day. For now he had a letter to read, and he opened it to see the words

HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

Headmaster: ALBUS DUMBLEDORE

(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,

Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)

Dear Peter Pettigrew,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

Excitedly he grabbed his mother's arm, showing her the list of required items.

"Could we go today? Could we? Could we?" He said, his eyes dancing in a joy rarely seen.

"Yes, yes, of course we can. Just let me grab my things." His mother replied, and soon the two of them were on their way to Diagon Alley, Peter dancing around his mother excitedly the whole while.

~Cese~

A knock at the door of the modest household one evening broke the heavy silence that was held over inhabitants. They no longer laughed together as they once did, and the boy was never read stories before he went to sleep at night. The knock at the door startled them, almost everyone jumped at the sound. When the door was opened, it revealed a wizard, dressed in purple robes with a long white beard.

"Mr. Lupin," he started, a smile in his eyes as he pulled something from his pocket, "I have a letter to give you."