Speak

"I cannot stress how important these exams are. Your NEWT results will affect your career options for the rest of your life. If you achieve less th – Mr. Pettigrew!"

Peter Pettigrew jumped guiltily and hurriedly and stuffed his parchment into his bag. He looked up at his Transfiguration teacher and gulped nervously.

Professor McGonagall observed him sternly over the top of his spectacles. "You do wish to pass your NEWTs do you not Mr. Pettigrew?"

A nod and another gulp.

"Then perhaps you should consider focusing on your studies in class. I have no doubt that your skills in Hangman are unsurpassable, but I see no need for them in my class. Is that understood Mr. Pettigrew?"

Peter nodded and Professor McGonagall returned to her class.

"Now as I was saying, if you fail to achieve the required number of NEWTs, you will find it very difficult to get a job that does not involve washing dishes. So unless you wish to spend the remainder of your life in the Hog's Head, I highly recommend that you start revising for your exams now. I shall be supplying you with review packages which I expect you to complete when you com back – "

"But Professor, it's Christmas!"

"Quiet, Potter, or it will be double detention tonight. Miss Macdonald, kindly hand out these packages. Pettigrew, return these essays to your classmates. I must say, I was fairly pleased with the majority of your papers, but there are a few of you who need to put in some good hard work before June." Here, she stared pointedly at Peter, who promptly dropped the stack of essays in his hands. Turning bright red, he scuttled around the floor, picking up the scattered parchment. He was saved further embarrassment by the bell ringing, signalling the end of class and the start of the Christmas holidays.

There was a deafening scraping of chair legs as the class clamoured for the door. Peter emerged from under a table, still pink, hurriedly grabbed his books and made a beeline for the exit, leaving Professor McGonagall amidst a jumble of abandoned essays. Once safely in the hall, he paused, waiting for his friends to join him. They appeared momentarily, three boys, all laughing, no doubt, at his latest mishap.

"Well done, Wormtail. That's the third time this month."

Peter smiled weakly, attempting to laugh the matter of. His eyes, however, continued to dart around as if he expected Professor McGonagall to come storming out of her classroom at any moment and rain curses down on him. Remus noticed his behaviour and stopped laughing.

"C'mon Wormtail. Lighten up, it's Christmas! And there's Hogsmeade tomorrow!"

"Excellent," James interjected, grinning. "I'm getting low on Dungbombs. I owe Filch big time for that last detention."

"Watch yourself," Remus warned him. "Lily's just finally agreed to go out with you – don't drag her off to buy Dungbombs on your first date."

"Well, Padfoot can get me some, right?"

"Sorry mate, I'm broke."

"Broke?" James yelped. "You just bought yourself a bloody house. How can you be broke?"

"You know how much it takes to upkeep a house. There's the paint, and the windows, and it really needs a new roof too." Sirius grinned and dodged the quill James hurled at him.

Peter was just starting cheer up again when they passed the staff room and Professor Slughorn emerged, a half-empty box of crystallized pineapple in his hand.

"Ah, Mr. Pettigrew, just the person I wanted. We need to have a little chat, young man, about your grades." He beckoned Peter into the staffroom. "Potter, Black, you'd better come too. Lupin, you can go." He closed the door, shutting out the noise of the busy corridor and a rather surprised Remus. "Now then, let me see, where did I – Ah yes, here it is." He dug out of piece of parchment from his robes and handed it to Peter. There was a large D emblazoned across it in bright red ink. "I think you have some explaining to do."

Peter opened his mouth, and then closed it again. He clenched the parchment in his pudgy hand until the bones of his knuckles showed up sharp and white against his skin. Still, he said nothing.

Professor Slughorn coughed loudly. "Come now, Mr. Pettigrew. I can't help you if you won't help me. Frankly, at this rate, I would be very surprised if you did not fail your NEWTs. However, it's not too late to pick up your grades and focus, if you're willing to try."

Peter nodded glumly, his lips pressed firmly together. Slughorn continued.

"Shall I tell you what I see?" He did not wait for Peter to reply. "I see a boy with perhaps not plenty of potential, but certainly enough brains to pull off an A if he tried. And you've got plenty of opportunities; your friends Mr. Black and Mr. Potter could certainly help you. Their grades are excellent. Lupin, too, is not a bad student. And if you will take some advice from me, I suggest you ask Miss Evans or Mr. Snape for help. Both of them are highly talented students and I'm sure would be more than willing to help you." He turned to Sirius and James. "Give him some help, will you boys?"

"Yes Professor."

Slughorn nodded approvingly and patted Peter's shoulder. "Put in some work and I'm sure you'll pass." He waved his wand at the door, which flew open. "Merry Christmas. Think about what I've said."

The three boys pushed their way into the corridor wordlessly. Remus was waiting for them just outside the doors.

"What was that about?" he asked.

Sirius shrugged. "Slughorn wanted to talk about Wormtail's Potions mark. He looked a little drunk. Probably dug into the Christmas mead a little too early. Normally he can't even remember Wormtail's name, let alone be bothered to worry about his grades. Told him some rubbish about asking Snivellus for extra help."

James snorted. "As if Snivellus would want to help. He'd be a lot better off asking Lily; she's just as good as he is."

"I think you might be just the tiniest bit prejudiced," Remus pointed out.

"With good reason; she's loads better than him."

"Where are you taking her tomorrow anyways?" Sirius asked. "And please don't say Madame Puddifoot's."

"Well, I was thinking maybe The Three Broomsticks or Honeydukes. Unless you think she'd like the Hog's Head?"

They continued down the hall, debating the merits of the many coffee shops and bars in Hogsmeade.

And still, Peter was silent.