Chapter 15: Stronger Mice
DEDICATION: ViChaseGranger, through constant support and hilarious reviews you deserve a chapter to yourself. Keep on following.
THE SECOND DEDICATION: To my beta, paradoxed. An author that has a sharp wit and even sharper words. Thank you. This is chapter is not one of my best works, but thanks to him, it looks a lot better than it actually is.
Ordinary Wizarding Levels was probably one of the worst examinations that have ever been invented.
Full stop.
It was worse in the UK, especially worse at Hogwarts.
Simply because their students have no idea what the hell they are suppose to do.
The first four years at Hogwarts were as slack as one could get. Nobody listened during History of Magic, nobody paid attention in Potions, nobody tried in Defence Against the Dark Arts and nobody took the end of year exams seriously as a result.
The 'nobody; used in the above paragraph was just a generalization and should not be taken seriously. ~ Remus
Ignore him. ~ James.
There were only a few students that had realized how important OWLs were early on, and sought to behave accordingly with its expectations before fifth year.
There was the lily flower that managed to steal the information from one of the higher Ravenclaws in her third year and sought to build a rabbits burrow in the library. There was the amber wolf that practically slept in his books and parchments in his Fourth Year before his brothers threatened to burn the hell out of them.
There were Ravenclaws that did not waste their library time by Quidditch, snogging, pranking or making a fool of themselves. Not that many, I assure you.
There were Slytherins, with their high amount of problems ranging from stupid family expectations to asinine house politics, that tried to study and achieve as much as they could while staying under the radar at all times.
There was the Hufflepuffs, going along with the flow, easy and brilliant, making the best use of their time and money, but still was a bit slow on the up side.
A few more of the students realized the importance of OWL in the first month of their fifth year, who proceeded to throw themselves into the library after the first term, the slowest could have to be after the semester before scrambling madly for the revision sheets.
Then there was the really slow ones that found the books and parchments a little bit too late and would often go into the exam room with a please help me face, and would often come out with a please kill me now face.
That most definitely did not happen to James Potter and Sirius Black when they flitted out from the OWL Defence Against the Dark Arts examinations hall.
They could not have done better.
The reason?
The Twins were stuck in Remus' famous Black Holes of Revision and Study for a month before the OWL exams. It's not like they could have fail, even if they wanted to. Which they don't.
As Madame Pomphrey once said, "With Remus and Severus, failure is never an option."
They were practically glowing when they came out, blinding everyone in the vicinity as they trudged as one to the lake. James was playing with a snitched Snitch, Sirius was folding and unfolding his exam papers into interesting shapes and sizes, Remus was keeping his head down and nose in a book and Severus was no where to be found.
That was not necessarily a good thing.
Almost all fifth years were down by the lake, Ravenclaws and Slytherins mingling together and in far lesser numbers compared to the Gryffindors.
Some were checking and rechecking their papers to the book in front of them. Others were laughing and celebrating for one of the most difficult OWL exams was done and dusted. The rest were moaning and groaning and exclaiming various words of disbelief and gratitude to obscure sources.
Peter Pettigrew did none of those things. He simply sat there with his parchments open in front of him, unseeing, knees tucked into his chest, half folded into the roots of a tree. Trying not to be noticed.
Severus Snape wasn't there, so there was no one here to keep them away from tormenting him. Remus hated him just as much as Sirius or James, if not more.
They have more than enough reason to.
He grew up in a household with just enough money to live comfortably. His mother was rarely home and without her, his father polluted the air around the house with his fanatic ideas about Salazar Slytherin, about how great a wizard he was, about how great his heirs were.
About the magic he wielded, about the power he held within the palm of his hands, about the immortality he possessed. On and off, on and off, everything was Salazar Slytherin. He tried vehemently to make his son into another one of him.
It did the exact opposite.
He was meant to be in Slytherin, but he went in the other direction. He was supposed to befriend the dark, but he went the lightest way. He was told to stay the hell away from them, but he refused.
To him, the Marauders were like a light, a beautiful glowing light that warmed the damp and boring halls of Hogwarts with their rays. To him, they were a sun half covered in dark spots and shadows and he sought to remove them so that they could shine all the brighter.
He grew up with dark thoughts filling up his empty head, so he detested all dark things, and refused to let his sun be sullied by something so wretched.
He needs light, he wants light, he will get light.
He didn't believe that a mere acquaintance on the first ride of Hogwarts Express or a passing glance in a classroom could build a wall so impenetrable.
He tried to break them apart, taking his 'advice' to them one by one, but they grew closer and tighter in response and were no longer quite friends.
Brothers, of blood and hearts.
It was fourth year when he stopped. It was fourth year when the torments started. They've done their waiting.
The pranks were always there, following behind him and most of everyone else like that cooking pot hopping after the wizard in one of those children stories, clicking and clacking, though his pranks were always more violent. He gave back as good as he got, but those pranks garnered laughs, and laughs were light, so Peter accepted
First came the tripping, a leg there, a shoe there, a poke all the way all over there. Then there's the stealing, parchments, quills, books, homework, assignments. Fifth year was when the hexes and jinxes finally came out of their wands.
He lived in the hospital wing for a month before the spells diminished into reasonable heights. Whenever he went, he could feel shadows pressing down upon him. It felt nice, not the sweat inducing thing he'd been expecting.
When James Potter was there to lift his wand, the shadows were there to keep him away. The shadows were always there, trying to protect every student, especially the Slytherins, from the dark, from the blood.
It had been like that for a semester, the shadows popping up from nowhere and everywhere, helping a person that tried to destroy him, and so many others just as mad. A semester, then Pettigrew saw the strains in the shadows, the tiredness in the dark.
The shadow disappeared for a week, and he took down everything the professors said the neatest form he could manage and sent it to Rabastan Lestrange with a handwriting that he knew no one would recognize.
The next morning after, Peter Pettigrew had dark circles under his eyes. When Severus Snape was still not found. Pettigrew handed in two pieces of homework.
He knew revenge, and how scary it could be, and he also knew that good deeds goes unpunished.
He didn't blame them. Brothers are brothers, bound by either oath or blood, the strongest bond in the world, and Peter Pettigrew had tried to shatter that bond for three years. It didn't stop him from hating them though.
He just wished he has the strength to tell them to stop.
Sometimes, darkness would be preferable. Unlike the light that did not know its strength and often burned him to shred, the shadow was cold and callous, but was real, and was kind. Always.
He unfurled himself and stuffed the crinkled OWL paper into his worn book bag and set off across the grass. All of this light and laughter was starting to become nauseating.
"All right, Wormy?" said James loudly. Loud enough to garner everyone's attention before the lake. Lupin only raised his eyes from his book for a second before promptly turning his back.
He reacted just a bit slower than James, his brownish stubby wand was only half way out of his pocket before Potter disarmed him with a lightening fast Expelliarmus!
His wand flew twelve feet into the air and fell into the grass' waiting hands, his bag and books were on the ground as well, fallen in his haste of drawing his wand. Some of the students laughed.
Peter barely managed to blink before he was knocked off his feet and into the trunk of a cherry tree some distance away. He didn't know why he went for his wand, it was always futile.
Students had already gathered in a circle to watch, some edged closer, some looked apprehensive, others looked entertained. Pettigrew wasn't the most popular character around.
He laid panting on the ground, his back aching and his breath knocked out. James and Sirius advanced on him, wand raised. Lupin did not move an inch, content to ignore and be ignored, something he so wished he could do.
"How's the exam go, Wormy?" said James.
"There'll be grease marks all over the paper they won't be able to read a word," said Sirius viciously. "Though I doubt he'll get anything right anyway."
Several people watching laughed, the girls sniggerd shrilly. He knew the spell, one of James' favorites. He couldn't move, as though bound by invisible ropes.
How he loathed that spell, how he loathed that name, how he loathed them.
When he managed to find his bearings and reach foolishly for his wand when their attention slipped, a branch wrapped around his almost straightened right leg and pulled, and he was sent crashing to the ground for the second time. Sirius smirked.
He let out a heavy stream of curses and hexes, but with his wand ten feet away it was quite pointless.
"Wash your mouth," James said coldly. "Scourgify!"
Pink and yellow soap bubbles streamed from his mouth at once, the froth was covering his lips, making him gag and constrict his lungs from taking air.
No one spoke up.
"Who wants to see what Wormy really looks like?" Sirius called, James jeered and the crowd cheered and one of the Twin raised his wand. He couldn't see through the water and froth in his eyes.
Pettigrew dove for his wand. A flash of light and James easily dodged the cutting hex. It hit the branch behind him, sending the thick wooden thing crashing to the ground. James whirled around, a second flash and Pettigrew was upside down in the air, his robes falling over his head to reveal stubby legs and loose trousers.
The crowd roared loudly as Pettigrew flared about, James and Sirius almost fell over. Lupin called to them, but coudn't be heard through the crowd's jeers and laughs.
A flick of an different ebony wand and Pettigrew floated gently to the ground, his robes once more flattened and organized. James scowled fiercely and moved the cast the spell again.
"Enough!"
It was shouted, but everyone heard it resonating through their ears and fell completely silent. James lowered his wand and slowly backed away.
Severus Snape looked livid.
Why wouldn't they listen, why wouldn't they stay, why wouldn't they help. Why couldn't he be stronger, why couldn't I be stronger?
"I've been gone for 20 minutes and this is what I get. Outright bullying of a fellow student, in broad daylight!" Snape sneered viciously, twisting his face into something monstrous and demonic. Pettigrew hadn't seen that expression for at least two years, and it still made him want to go screaming in the other direction.
"Rue..." James started, but quickly stopped when he saw the dark glare sent to his way by a pair of black tunnels.
Snape turned his glare to the crowed in front of him and they dispersed, hastily and quietly, as if the devil was on their tail.
"Rue..." Sirius started again, but all he got was a haughty look that spoke volumes.
"I thought you were better than this," Snape hissed through his teeth.
He turned, "Come along." And began his long strides to the castle. It took a few second from Pettigrew to realize that he was actually talking to him.
He scrambled up, grabbing his bag, swiping his wand from the ground, and hurried after him, leaving the light standing rock still behind him.
Pettigrew half ran half tripped after Snape, the long strides of the Slytherin making it quite hard for his stubby legs to keep up. He didn't know where he was going, nor did he really care, too intent was he focused on his savior in front of him.
Snape was clearly furious, his transparent hands fisted by his side and his long fingers hovering over his flame filled black eyes. His waist length midnight hair untied and copper in the sun, swaying and shifting with each step. Peter has never seen someone so beautiful.
Snape kept walking. Peter kept following, until they reentered Hogwarts, until they were in front of the enormous salad bowl of the kitchens, until they were in the giant of a cooking room, did they stop.
"Mr Prince! Master Prince!" A round of high pitched squeals were the only warning before a whole hoard of house elves surrounded them. All of them big eyed and floppy eared. All of them excited and happy to see the both of them.
"Steady, Misty," Snape said kindly as he calmed an elderly house elf that were the closest to him. The old Misty beamed in all his radiance and bowed as low as he could, before allowing Snape to prop him back up.
He smiled kindly to all of them, small and in no way powerless, the simple and complex race of house elves. "Two cups of tea please, Lory, and some light snacks as well if you please," he said to a tall elf with the brightest grey eyes Peter has ever seen in his life.
Lory beamed from ear to ear and bowed low, by the time Pettigrew was forced into a stool by the counter, the tea and biscuits were ready in front of him.
He took a sip, and tried not to look into Snape's staring eyes.
"Tell me," he said. His voice half muffled by the cup in front of his thin lips. The fire in those black eyes dimmed to a simmering ember, a sheet of ice covered them from escaping and burning everything around him. "From the beginning."
It was a request, a command, a judgement. So he did.
He told the demon in front of him everything, right from the beginning: he was Peter Pettigrew, he was five years old. He heard the name Salazar Slytherin for the first time.
He did not understand why he opened his mouth, nor did he understand why he would give Snape the full and unadulterated version of his life. He did not understand why he would trust a Slytherin he so detested, now did he understand what exactly he was saying.
It just sort of came pouring out, the humiliation and the pain, the cold stares and the hurt from both fellow students and professors. This was his story, and he'll be damned if he let anyone take this away from his as well.
So he talked and talked and talked and laid his life out for both of them see. He's telling a story, and all Snape had to do was to to listen.
You can call him Gryffindor, you can call him idiot, but this was his moment, and he'll decide whom he'll share it to.
His.
Time kept moving, but inside the cozy kitchen with the warm fire and the kind elves, they won't have to be anyone outside. Not a Prince, not a rat, not a liar, not a coward. No one.
Just Severus Snape and Peter Pettigrew.
He talked about his father and Salazar Slytherin, he talked about how he admired the light of Gryffindor and despised the shadow of Slytherin. He talked about the Marauders and Snape from his point of view, leaving nothing behind to stain his heart. He talked about the humiliation and the harassment and he talked about the name Wormy and how much he hates it.
He talked and talked, with only the cackling fire and the refilling of the tea interrupting him. Snape just listened, quietly, silently, like the shadows he admired in secret from a distance. An admiring that started just a while ago.
They weren't acquaintances, nor friends. But here, one listened and the other talked, and that's what important. That's what happened.
When he finished, Snape opened his mouth, and smiled.
+()+
"Call me Wormtail," he said coldly to James when Potter was forced to apologize to him in the middle of the Great Hall.
He walked away with a train of ice behind him.
Like the shadow had said, if he can't be Gryffindor, then Slytherin would be far better option than nothing at all.
If he couldn't get stronger as a Gryffindor, light and self-righteous, then he'll be a Slytherin and take what he wants with both hands.
Stronger, stronger, stronger...
Then maybe one day, he'll give him a smile.
Stronger.
You have no idea how long I've been dying to write this chapter. This is like the biggest big of plot I have and I love writing in villians' points of views. I want unhealthy obsession and a cause and effect affect type of thing. This is 3000 something words, and there's no shame in me to admit I'm quite proud of that. If you think this is bad, wait until I write Voldemort. *cackle* Or the quidditch *curses*
This chapter is maingly for sympathetic points for Peter, because when I'm through with him you guys are all going to wish he's never born. I believe Severus' life would end up a lot easier if he actually had some to just listen to him!
Pay attention to detail, is my advice to all of you reading.
Review please!