Peter's POV
I looked in the mirror, making sure my hair had been combed correctly and that my jacket had been spiffingly placed. Of course, why I bothered was beyond anybody's reason, least of all mine. I was, after all, going to be walking beside none other than Padfoot and Prongs.
I frowned a little as I thought of them by their nicknames. I was Wormtail. Of course. All that hard work, what with nearly dying and those disgusting potions and all, only to be a rat. Everybody else seemed secretly amused, though of course they pretended not to think anything of it. They talked about how lucky it was that I was a small creature, able to slip out and touch the knob of the Whomping Willow. But really, we all knew that just a simple trunk-paralysis or lifting of a nearby stone would do the trick. There was no need for me to be a rat. To me, being 'Wormtail' was just another confirmation of how I could never touch their natural-born talent and status, how they would never respect me the way I respected them. But it was all the price of being lucky enough to be their friend. Somehow, I had managed to become friends with those who looked to become the strongest and best of our generation. I wasn't going to throw that opportunity away just because I had a few minor insecurities. In order for there to be leaders in this world, there have to be those that are less talented, less noticed, less admired, less magnetic, and less bright. For there to be a spotlight, there had to be a dark surrounding, and if that was what I was born for, well then, fine. At least, that was what I would tell myself every time I felt like I was not being taken seriously, not given enough credit, or just plain forgotten. Which, as you might imagine, happened quite often.
"Peter," my mother said, appearing in the doorway, "your friends have arrived in the living room just now. Are you ready?"
I followed my mother down to where Mr. Potter, James, Sirius, and Remus were brushing off ash from the fireplace.
"Oy, Wormtail, how've you been?" James said to me, clapping a hand on my jacket and consequently leaving a sooty handprint on my new jacket.
Mr. Potter greeted my parents before turning to me. "Hello, Peter. Good to see you. All right, we've got to start walking now or we won't make it to the Portkey in time."
"Right, then, let's get going," Sirius said heartily and we set off.
We reached the Portkey with seconds to spare and I'd just gotten my forefinger on the old rusty can when I was jerked forward and my feet left the ground. We all sped forward in a howling wind, and everything was just blurs of color speeding past. I shut my eyes; I was going to be sick.
"Let go!" Mr. Potter shouted and with a gulp and trembling fingers, I did. My feet hit solid ground a moment before Remus barreled into me and we both fell over.
Laughing, James and Sirius pulled us up for they had landed easily on their feet, quite upright and not a hair out of place.
"First time with a Portkey, Wormtail?" Sirius asked me, and blushing, I nodded. For being a pureblood, I was very inexperienced with Portkeys. For a human, I was just very clumsy.
"Come on," Mr. Potter said, leading up over the hill where our eyes fell upon a vast expanse of deserted valley leading onto a high deserted moor.
Remus mumbled something.
"Did you say something, Remus?" I asked, but he shook his head and down we went, into the valley and then out, until we reached a pair of Ministry wizards.
"Ah, Harold. Your campsite, hrm… oh yes, yes, walk about half a mile down and ask for Mr. Lefroy."
We spotted the campsite more than a quarter mile away. Many of the tens had attached onto them flags supporting either teams competing this year. They fluttered in the air, their symbols flashing and moving. As we neared the campsite, we could see an assortment of colorful fires spitting up all sorts of sparks in the air or golden smoke curling up into the air.
"Ridiculous," Remus commented, shaking his head.
"Er- what is?" I asked him.
"Normal fires don't spit up red and silver sparks nor are they black," Remus said, nodding his head at the nearby offending fires.
"Er- don't they? Oh, you mean Muggle fires," I clarified. "These fires are normal to me."
We set up a tent and clambered inside, though Remus initially held back, afraid he was going to be squashed in with the rest of us. Laughing, I dragged him in to show him how the tent was obviously expansive inside, complete with a kitchen and three bedrooms.
"Come on, Moony," I said exasperatedly, "your dad is one of the most distinguished men in the Wizarding World. How did you not know that magical tents expand? Haven't you ever been camping before?"
Remus shrugged. "I've used the excuse that I've been camping before during the full moon. I haven't actually ever been."
"Well, the full moon is weeks away. Cheer up," James encouraged, overhearing our conversation. "Come on, then, let's have a look around then, shall we?"
It was complete madness, a great mixture of fans and salespeople and whatnot all mixed around. Children were flying low on kid's brooms, Ministry wizards were Apparating here and there, trying to keep everything under control, and then there were the adults looking weary in contrast to all the excited teenagers... Speaking of teenagers-
"Sirius! James! Remus! Peter!"
Sirius. James. Remus. Peter.
My name was always last.
We turned to see Jesse Jordan, the Hufflepuff Seeker and a fellow seventh-year, waving to us. Besides him were Amos Diggory, Sam Chang, and Zayne Finnigan.
We converged together excitedly, talking about the teams and how our summers had been, though Sirius and Zayne avoided greeting each other. After all, Zayne had punched Sirius in the face before; a feat, though I was whole-heartedly on Sirius' side, you had to respect Zayne for.
A moment later, we were joined by Gryffindor's old captain, Alexander Wood, who was with his wife, a very beautiful Scottish brunette and their six-month old infant named Oliver. Oliver was happily clutching a small flag and repeatedly sticking it into his mother's face.
"How's the old Hogwarts Quidditch teams, eh? Gryffindor still in the lead? I suppose you are, since you've still got you two, Sirius and James, and that Kingsley girl, Raylynx," Alexander said, grinning. He himself had been scouted as a player for Pride of Portree and was now their main Keeper.
"Actually, James is Seeker."
"Oh, really?"
I only half-listened as they talked Hogwarts Quidditch, feeling a bit left out as I was not a Quidditch player myself.
We parted ways and began to make our way back to camp, though we, and by we, I mean Sirius and James were often stopped by different girls I vaguely remembered from Hogwarts.
"Oh, Moony, look who it is," James nodded to our right and Remus looked over to see-
"I'm not here. Quick, hide me, hide me," Remus began to say, crouching behind Sirius, who was the tallest and most muscular of us all, but it was too late.
"Remus!" A tall, curly-haired blonde girl exclaimed as she came running up to us. I thought she was rather pretty but Remus was bent on discouraging her.
"H-how are you, Gemma?" Remus said to the Ravenclaw girl, giving her a rather pained smile.
She seemed not to notice, though, as she tried to throw her arms around him, but he very slyly step-sided it and said, "Did you come with your family?"
"What? Oh, oh yeah!" Gemma beamed at him.
"I see. Well." Remus said abruptly, "See you at the match."
We started to walk away when Gemma said, "Oh, um… Pettigrew?"
I turned, feeling hope blossom within me…
"You've got some dirt on your shoulder, did you know?
I blushed and sort-of nodded, but she'd already left.
Chortling, James and Sirius followed an embarrassed Remus back down to our camp.
"Oh, come on. She's not bad," James was saying. "Give her a chance, why don't you? She seems to fancy you quite a lot. She practically threw herself at you."
"Yeah, and if she knew what I really was, how fast do you think that would change to 'throwing me away'?" Remus muttered.
"Ah, Moony, don't be so pessimistic. Not all girls would run away from you because of that. Not even most, I bet," James was saying.
"You're only saying that because no girls know that I'm a-a- one of them", Remus said, stuttering over the word 'werewolf'.
"So far as you know," Sirius said, shrugging.
"What?" Remus paled. "D'you mean someone else knows-!?"
"No," Sirius answered quickly, but I couldn't notice the way he looked away from Remus as he spoke, "I'm just saying you're being stupidly hard on yourself again. Anyways, enough talk. It's about time we get to the pitch or it'll be ridiculously crowded."
"Yeah, we should go soon," I agreed, glancing outside our tent as a rosy pink dust settled in all around us.
"Dad!" James called to his sleeping father. "Dad, we're going to miss the match if you keep snoring away!"
Twenty minutes later, we were all set to go.
We stepped out together into the fading sunset, whose last rays of gold shot dazzling across the desolate landscape.
"This way," James said, and led the way up the hill. About half a mile away from the campsite, loud blasts were heard just to our left. We turned.
"Bit too early to be celebrating, don't you think?" Remus asked.
"Well, people are known to socialize a bit before the match. The Quidditch World Cup is more than just a game, you know. It's one of the largest get-togethers allowed for the magical society. We're always living in such secrecy. This is a nice change for all of us," Mr. Potter explained.
We continued on when another round of blasts shouted out again. This time, it was accompanied by a scream. We all hesitated and looked towards our left. Smoke was beginning to rise from the campsite to our left.
Mr. Potter frowned and peered towards the campsite.
All seemed silent again.
We continued up towards the pitch, and though my heart was positively thundering, the others only seemed slightly uneasy. Suddenly, the yelling of several people could be heard.
"What d'you think you're doing!? What the fuck d'you think you're doin-?!"
We looked again- this time the smoke was pouring out in earnest.
"Stay here!" Mr. Potter yelled and began to rush down towards the campsite.
"Dad!" James shouted, "Dad!"
And he took off after his father with Sirius and Remus hot on his heels. I started to run after them but instinctively paused when another scream split the air. Trembling, I drew out my wand before racing after them.
I ran straight into the campsite.
"Stupefy!"
I barely ducked in time as a jet of light flew over my head. I tried to run into a nearby tent but it was impossible to move in any one direction without being roughly jostled aside. People were running everywhere, screaming. Mothers were grabbing their children and fathers were drawing out their wands. The lights of hexes could be seen sparking through the smoke. And… figures… masked, cloaked in black, and hooded seemed to be moving throughout the campsite together…
"Pete!" James appeared out of nowhere and grabbed my arm, dragging me along with him.
I whimpered involuntarily when another spell shot just over our heads.
"Petrificus Totalus!"
"Crucio!"
"Pete, c'mon!" James dragged me along rapidly.
And then we could clearly Mr. Potter's voice somewhere in the smoke, "SIRIUS! SIRIUS, GET BACK HERE!"
"Sirius!" I heard Remus shout aloud desperately.
Then, Mr. Potter and Remus with Sirius' cuff in tightly in his grip appeared.
"James, lead them back to the Portkey and wait there!" Mr. Potter shouted and then whirled around and yelled, "Protego!"
His Shield Charm deflected a few spells heading our way.
"Dad, what are you going to do?" James asked, panic clear in his face.
Mr. Potter laid a hand on his son's shoulder and said quietly, "I am going to fight. You know why, don't you?"
"But I'm of age too! I can fight! Let me fight with you!" James protested.
"Not now, son. Protect your friends and leave this to me," Mr. Potter instructed firmly. He raced off with astounding agility for a man his tender age and began to duel fiercely with a hooded figure.
"Come on, to the Portkey!" Remus urged us, and we took off together down the hill. At some point, I fell and James had to get me up and push me to keep running. When we finally stopped in the woods, I was wheezing and clutching at my chest.
"Right, then," James said, not looking very tired at all. "What was the Portkey-?"
"Sirius, will-you-STOP!" Remus was wrestling with Sirius again, who was struggling to break free of his grasp.
"Sirius, you can't go back!" Remus said in a frustrated voice.
"Why would you want to?" I said. "It's dangerous in there, Padfoot. It's far better here, where we're safer here."
"I want to be out fighting with my Dad," James said quietly, looking out towards the smoke billowing from the campsite.
"But it's dangerous," I said again. I didn't understand- why didn't he want to stay here, where it was safer? Where he was protected?
The tension increased with time and it was only when Mr. Potter returned to us, exhausted and sporting a few cuts, but on the whole, unharmed, that we all let out the sigh of relief we'd been holding.
"Let's go back," Mr. Potter said wearily. "I've done what I can."
"Anyone hurt?" Sirius asked immediately.
Mr. Potter shook his head. "Most of the cloaked men disappeared when the Ministry arrived in full force. A few Muggles were caught up in the crossfire but nothing too gruesome. They'll just be a few days in St. Mungo's, I expect. And have their memories wiped, of course."
"Come on." Mr. Potter beckoned to us."We've got to leave now."
And we all touched the can and were whisked into the howling wind again.
Alice's POV
Alice,
You haven't been replying to my last couple letters. Is something wrong?
Well, I've just had a thought. I know I'm a Hogwarts graduate now (the fact that I'm scheduled to undergo the Auror testing next Thursday is a frightening reminder that I'm no longer a student), but I was wondering- well, what if I came to see you for your Hogsmeade trip? It's an easy enough place to Apparate too. I know we're just friends, and I'll be going to see other people as well, so don't feel burdened about it. Anyway, owl me straight away, won't you?
Yours,
Frank
My fingers traced across the word yours.
But you aren't, I thought. We're just friends. You said it yourself.
I screwed open my ink bottle and dipped in my quill. I began to write on a sheet of parchment:
Dear Frank,
I haven't written to you because I made a promise to myself that the next time I speak to you in any way, I would have to tell you the truth. Which is that you're not just my 'friend'. At least, I wish we could be… something more.
I paused, read what I'd written, and then proceeded to crumple it up. It dropped from my hand and hit the desk before bouncing off to join the mess of crumpled parchment all around my desk.
How did Marlene do it? And Dorcas? Be so up-front about who they loved and what they wanted?
"Alice! Time for dinner, sweetheart!" my mother's voice rang from downstairs.
"Yes, mother!" I replied before getting up and heading to the bathroom to scrub the ink off my hands.
I sat down between my mother and grandfather, with my grandfather and father sitting across from us.
"Nasty things in the news today," my grandfather clucked as he flipped through the paper. The headlines caught my eye "MARK OVER KILLINGS RUMORED TO BE HIS MARK"; "RAMPAGE AT THE QUIDDITCH WORLD CUP- MASKED 'DEATH EATERS' APPEAR".
"What those crazy purebloods are thinking, I'll never understand," my father said solemnly. "It's not right. Discrimination of someone's born blood is ridiculous. Haven't we learned that lesson over and over already? First with sexism, then racism, now we're arguing about blood? Not to mention the anti-centaur, goblin, mermaid, and werewolf legislation being invoked every day."
"Yes, but don't go getting yourself involved in this," my grandmother reproached sternly. "It's not our place to join this crazy war and kill people."
"Of course not, nobody was talking about killing anybody, mother," my mother said, joining us at the dinner table. "It'd be just as foolish to oppose this ridiculous pureblood elitism as it would be to join it."
"It'll probably just die down anyhow," my grandfather agreed.
Most dinners passed without me ever speaking a word and to contradict my grandparents was something unheard of. My grandparents had lovingly criticized everything about me, from my grades to my appearance, but never had I countered them.
But on this matter… I gripped my fork and said in a shaking voice, "But I-I want to fight."
Everybody looked up in shock.
But my mother easily brushed it off after a second had passed. "Darling, we know how you feel. But this isn't our problem. It would be asking for trouble to get involved in something like this. You understand that, don't you?"
"Whose problem is it, if not ours?" I asked in an even quieter voice.
"No," my grandmother snapped, "enough nonsense from you. You'd do well to keep out of things that aren't your business! You think I want my one and only granddaughter to be hurt because of something which didn't concern her at all?"
"My friends are Muggle-borns," I countered, keeping my eyes fixed firmly on the turkey in front of me. "Would you be happy with me if I stood by and watched them suffer or be killed?"
There was another silence, this time more awkward. Then my father cleared his throat and spoke, "No, of course not, darling. But those are your friends. They have a relation to you. Whether these Muggle-borns and arrogant purebloods act in whatever way they see fit... really, what do they have to do with us?"
Everything! I wanted to shout, but I couldn't seem to find my voice. Finally, I whispered, "N-nothing."
The entire table seemed to relax.
"It's only natural to want to fight, but a hot head will get you nowhere. Always reason things out," my grandfather said kindly.
But in my head and in my heart, I remained unmoved. This was my world and my friends and my choice. I wasn't going to ask anybody for their approval, but neither did I need it.
"Alice? How do you like the turkey?"
"It's wonderfully cooked, Mum. It tastes lovely."
Raylynx's POV
Whatever possessions had survived the fire had been sent to me. Jamie's motorcycle now resided in McGonagall's garage, if you can imagine that. She talked about "the untrustworthy Muggle contraption" like it was some savage tiger and hadn't trusted it to "stay put" on its own. She'd put her own locking and sticking Charms all over it to keep it from "doing anything inappropriate".
I'd also received a cardboard box, filled mostly with things we had long stored away in the garage: the first teddy bear Sola had picked out for me… Jamie's first ever toy Snitch… a picture of my parents on their marriage day… I ran my fingers along my parents in the photograph, desiring nothing more than to be able to reach out and touch their faces just one more time…
There was also a small box. I opened it to see that it contained a vaguely familiar stone. I held the stone in my palm for a moment and watched it glisten in the light. It a very small pure iridescent pearl that glistened beautifully, shaped like a six-petal flower. Lumeare.
I then reached for my two pillow cases, meaning to ask Professor McGonagall if she could wash them for me. The last time I'd tried the Cleaning Charm on my own, I'd vanished half my shirt. However, I hesitated when I felt something rectangular in one of them. I reached in and pulled out a flat sheet of parchment that had obviously been saved from the wash because I'd only ever used it once- at the Potters.
I looked down at it and saw:
Cauldron to Level 5 Setting.
Begin with a base of dragon's blood.
Add Bindweed (Type: Convolvus Minor) until dragon's blood turns clear. Then stir five six times counterclockwise…
I recognized it as James' paper for the Animagus potion. I carefully folded the paper and placed it on my desk. I made to leave again, but felt another oddity in my other pillow case. Confused, I reached it and pulled it out. It was a very weathered, beaten piece of paper, obviously it had been through the wash a few times. I tried my best to uncrumple it and peered down at the faint wording.
...As long as you are at Hogwarts … you'll be as safe… you haven't been… dangerous…Wizengamot… more 'accidents'…'disappearing'… Muggle-borns… world is changing… Jamie…our dear parents…learn…important… to protect our… careful and learn…remember…
…sister,
Sola Kings…
This had been the letter from Sola in my fifth year. I remembered, because she didn't write me too often.
Reading it now was so different from reading it then. Now I could see that all along, Sola had been trying to protect us. We'd (meaning my family and I) never took her as seriously as she deserved. It wasn't that she'd ever wanted to be the stern, unforgiving one, it was just that she had to. Because she realized before all of us that this war was coming. She'd just been trying to protect us.
I rang the doorbell and waited.
"Ray!"
"Sola," I said and we hugged each other.
"You're here early," she commented as I entered her new home.
"Why, is that bad?" I asked her as she led me to the living room.
"No, no, just unlike you," Sola smiled brightly at me. She was almost like her old self again. Almost.
"How are you liking the neighborhood?" I asked her as we sat down together on the couch, beside the table where Sola had set out some tea and cookies.
"Oh, it's lovely. Just the other day, the old lady at the end of the street brought me some Dirigible Plu- er, peaches."
I tried to smile naturally at her, as if I hadn't noticed her slip-up.
As if we were truly just two sisters spending an afternoon today.
Not two sisters now living in completely different worlds.
To cover up my discomfort, I reached over to drink some tea, but ended up catching it against its dish and sloshing it onto her new carpet floor.
"Oh, sorry," I said, and meant to draw out my wand and clean it with a simple cleaning spell, but the spell died in my throat as Sola leaned over with a tissue to soak up the tea like a Muggle.
"It's no problem," Sola said airily, not meeting my eyes as she got down on her knees to press the tissue against the carpet.
"It'll leave a stain, but if I use some cleaning products, it's bound to go away," Sola said, wearing a false smile again.
"Right," I said quietly, "yeah. Some… some cleaning products will do."
When I returned that evening, I wasn't the least bit hungry. Professor McGonagall admonished me. "You're doing it again! Starving yourself! You must eat!"
Living with Professor McGonagall was quite interesting. Seeing her in a Muggle dress or realizing that there was a wizard named Elphinstone who tried to court her every month gave me a new perspective on this kind and brilliant, if not a little frightening, witch. To me, it made her into a woman, a human, and something very like a mother figure. Especially because she never stopped scolding me. It was strange, my own mother had never cared enough to scold me about little things like eating and studying. I felt disloyal to my dead mother as I began to regard Professor McGonagall as something like a mother figure who was in many ways, the mother I'd never had.
"You're too skinny," Professor McGonagall told me. "You've been neglecting yourself, Raylynx."
"Not purposefully," I said defensively. "I just… just forgot."
"Well, it won't do to 'just forget'," McGonagall said sternly. "You're not healthy right now."
It was true.
I'd always imagined skinny to be a pretty, healthy thing.
But the skinny that I saw in the mirror was terrifying ugly. My hair was limp, my eyes seemed to be flat, and every motion I made seemed to strain at my body. My smile seemed freakishly unnatural to my glum, empty face. I always felt exhausted. I was ugly. I was gaunt.
I couldn't seem to remember what it felt like to be not.
Nothing worked for me anymore. Sleep tired me out as it brought more horrifying nightmares than rest. I was tired, tired in a way that sleep couldn't cure.
"Professor," I said, unable to tear my mind away from the image of my sister pressing tissue against the floor, "you've got to train me. You've got to teach me."
"I will, but only if you take care of yourself again and stop acting like a helpless child!"
I briefly felt myself sardonically smile. What was I, if not a helpless child?
"Eat!" McGonagall said crossly. "I spent all day making this for you. If you let it go to waste, I shall be very angry with you."
Mechanically, I opened my mouth, placed some food in my mouth, and began to chew.
"What are you doing!? Help them!" I screamed at Sola as a Death Eater tortured my parents in front of our very eyes. Their piercing screams ripped apart my ears and carved pain into my heart.
"I-I can't," Sola whispered through tears. "I-I don't know how…"
"Shut up! Shut up! I know you can help them!" I was shrieking at her. "Why won't you help them!?"
"I can't! I can't!"
My own wand had been splintered in half and there was nobody else.
"Please!" I screamed. "Please help us! Anybody!"
Then my mother's scream rose like a wave and drowned every thought I had, immersed my mind and heart in sharp, sharp pain.
"Ahhhh!"
"There, there. Calm yourself. Deep breaths, girl," McGonagall helped me to sit up and wiped away the sheen of sweat on my forehead.
"It's just a dream," McGonagall said to me soothingly but as I leaned forward and clutched my head, I thought again. No. It was real. The truth is I wasn't able to protect them. And neither can my sister. Or my brother. Not anymore.
The Death Eaters took my parents, and now my siblings as they were all trying to protect me.
But there's no one left anymore.
If it's not me, there's no one left.
And I won't be like them. I won't let myself be taken.
"Professor," I said, and despite my shaking body, my voice was firm.
"Yes?"
"Please help me. Help me to become strong. I don't want to be like my siblings or my parents."
McGonagall's hand on my arm tightened like a vice but her voice was also steady as she replied, "Yes, but only after you've gotten better."
I nodded and fell back against my pillows, my breathing slowly returning to normal.
"No," Professor McGonagall said crisply, "you're doing the same mistake again! It's not a flick, it's a slash."
Frustrated, I slashed the air viciously and shouted, "Adjuro protego corporis!"
Finally, an immense silver shield was conjured from the air with a deep, gong-like note, and I was able to reach out and grasp it.
"Excellent," Professor McGonagall said approvingly. "That was very good, Raylynx."
"Only took me about five days," I muttered, wiping the sweat from my brow.
"Nearly six," McGonagall said, turning her head towards the sunset in the west.
For good measure, I tried the other spell I'd been working on. "Expecto Patronum!"
A large silver lynx burst out of the tip of my wand.
"That took nine months," I said, as we both watched the lynx shimmer away into the fading sunset.
"In the end, it's not how long it took you to do it, but how well," McGonagall reminded me. "Come, it's beginning to get late, and you have to take your Apparation exam tomorrow."
I nodded. Having abandoned my Apparation classes at Hogwarts, I had instead taken them over the summer. Curiously, at these classes, I had also met Mary MacDonald, now Mary Cattermole (having married Reginald Cattermole). It was strange, she was no longer the overly cheerful Quidditch commentator I had first met. Instead, she was so nervous and timid. I wondered if she had changed because of Yaxley's cursing her with Dark Magic at Hogwarts or if she had experienced something even more frightening. But when Mary commented how much I had grown-up, well, I kept my memories to myself. Sometimes the kindest thing you can do is to let the other person have their silence and respect that sometimes... sometimes words aren't enough.
