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When I wake up, I feel like a new man, a better one.
I know what I must do... I must find out how is responsible for the murder of James and Lily. I know that my first stop is Peters' mother. I also know that I have to figure out the strange behaviour of Mad-eye and what Tonks has to do with the whole case. I know, that in time, I will have to do the inevitable and visit Sirius in Azkaban.
As I walk down the stairs I collide into Tonks. Flustered, she looks up at me and then her pale face breaks out into a small, shy smile. I notice that her hair has regained a tinge of pink. I feel warmth fill my heart and I smile too.
After breakfast I apparate to Peters' house. I land in the garden and notice that everything is unbearably still. The Pettigrews are a big family, eight children, Peter being second oldest and it was never quiet. This makes me uneasy. I come closer and knock on the door. Harder. Harder. No answer. My war days instincts, still fresh, kick in and my wand is out. In a matter of seconds I am alert and start circling the house silently and carefully. I nearly laugh out loud in relief when I find they are all in the back garden, but my relief turns to sorrow when I see what they are doing. They are all standing, quietly, heads down, around a pit. Could it be... no, the pit is too small to hold a body, even peters' short one. I step closer, walking calmly, head bowed, and stand about two steps behind them, but Mrs Pettigrew senses me and turns around. I see the fright in her red rimmed eyes turn to gratitude.
"Remus, I am so glad you could come".
One of the younger girls burst out crying and another kneels down to comfort her. I feel awkward but nod understandingly. Only then do I see what she holds in her hands. It is a glass box that holds a finger. Peter's finger. She lowers it into the pit and one of the older boys starts to fill the pit up. A minute before it is completely covered I notice that doesn't look as if it was blown off, but as if it was cut off neatly. But why? Who would bother? Only if something was fake will someone do it. I must figure it out.
When they finish we all go back inside. The children all scatter to their rooms and I sit down in the living room with Mrs Pettigrew.
"I am very sorry for your loss".
She sniffs and nods.
We sit in silence.
"Thank you for coming" her voice was barely more than a whisper "I am sure he would have wanted it".
Mrs. Pettigrew is a small, kind woman, who resembles Peter perfectly. None of the others looked like them.
"He has been anxious and afraid ever since his father died". This statement takes me by surprise and she notices it. "He didn't tell you?" she asks, a concerned look on her face.
I shake my head.
"He died a few months ago, mysterious circumstances..." this is too much for her. She breaks completely and sobs hard into her hands. I don't know what to do with myself. Just then there is a knock at the door and Peter's eldest brother enters. Behind him stands a young woman holding a small child. He kneels down and wraps his arms around his mother. She sobs harder and I stand up.
"I should go" I say and leave the room, nodding back at the young women in the doorway.
As I go through the garden and is about to apparate I hear running feet behind me. I turn around to find one of Peter's brothers standing there, panting. He looks about twelve years old.
"Remus, isn't it?"
"Yes" I reply slowly.
"Why do you think he did it?"
"Did what?"
"Cut his finger off?" he replies, almost matter-of-factly.
"I'm sorry, he did what?" I stutter, quite taken by surprise.
"It looks like he cut his finger off".
"It does, doesn't it?"
"Why do you think he did it?" he repeats.
I don't know what to say.
"He's been very nervous, have been for a year now" he continues " mum was starting to think he has Manic depression , he was changing moods incredibly fast, he seemed disconnected and afraid". He must have understood my face expression, which is just screaming what I am thinking – " what the hell are you telling me all this for?" – as he added.
"Just thought you'd like to know." With that he turns back to the house and I star at his back.
Snapping back to reality I apparate back to headquarters.