The Pettigrew family was an unusual one.
Unlike most wizarding families, they chose to live with muggles, moving away from their magical relatives and integrating entirely in muggle culture. Jane and Conor Pettigrew's wands often collected dust on the mantelpiece and it had been many years since they had stepped into somewhere such as Diagon Alley or The Hog's Head.
On the fifth birthday of their second son, Liam, Jane took up a part time post as a waitress in a cafe in town. With two children who, as yet appeared to show no magical ability at all, they had made the unusual decision to enrol them in muggle school. After all, what was the worst that could happen? What would be so terrible if they showed some magic at a later age than most - at least they would benefit from a formal education.
And it had been somewhat of an adventure. The two of them, together, forging out a life for their small family in this mirrorworld. And then came the third son, who would continue as his brothers had. Excellent boys, despite the lack of magic, no parent could complain that they were unremarkable. Patrick, tall and handsome, large, gentle hands surely made for making music. They spent their first decade as parents at many primary school violin or piano performances, beaming with pride. Then came Liam, cheeky and bright. Troublesomely intelligent, an endless ream of letters home, chastising for impudence but always accompanied by an undeniable set of straight As.
And then Fionn, the adored white-haired baby of the family, always running after his older brothers. The kindest and sweetest, always with a box full of "pet" snails, or else a hotel of woodlice. Not a spark of magic in him, but delightful nonetheless.
Besides, at that point, they had stopped waiting for it. Their little life was perfect.
It was only by chance that the fourth came along. And it was only by chance that Conor had taken a new job and so the fourth would even come to stay.
Madness to think that they had considered their life complete before the fourth.
And the fourth revealed the lack.
When he cried, the lights flickered. When he laughed, the windchimes clinked. They didn't dare think too hard about it, and sent him to school with the others, anyway.
But the lack grew, and grew. Things were not complete, were they?
Homework vanished, sweets appeared in the shopping trolley at checkout, the cassette player skipped his least favourite songs.
And at night, Jane and Conor began to talk about how things used to be, for the first time in years. The fourth twitched the curtain and reminded them of the life they'd left behind.
Surely, they could have both?
Things began to change in the Pettigrew household. Every now and again, an owl would drop off an unusual newspaper with moving pictures. For the first time, their radio was used to its full capacity and dialled into the Wizarding Wireless Network. Occasionally, because it was easier, they lit the living room fire by magic, instead.
It became clear, after another six or seven years had passed, that the magical world wasn't something that would accept an attitude of one foot in and one foot out. Suddenly, doing the school run and helping with chemistry homework seemed awfully mundane. Especially with the promise of reminiscing about potions lessons and departing on the Hogwarts Express in the near future. And it was impossible for gentle Patrick and bright Liam and kind Fionn not to realise that no accomplishment would ever live up to whatever gift Peter had been blessed with which allowed their parents to bring their magical adolescence back.
How could they expect their parents to be content with the mundane now that the magical had been offered?
A bitter trench opened up, separating them. Some days, they were almost toe-to-toe, as though nothing had changed, and others, it was as though an ocean separated them.
And worst of all, there was nothing remarkable about the fourth boy.
Blond haired, wide blue eyes, and smattered with freckles just like his brothers. He was pleasant, but forgettable. Quiet and shy. No extraordinary talent for music, or for study, even for humour. And unbeknownst to him or his brothers, no extraordinary magical talent when compared to the calibre of students who would join him at Hogwarts that year.
The fourth discovered that September that not only was he not mundane enough to fit in with his siblings, but he was barely talented enough to keep up with his classmates. And so he settled in between two insurmountable cliffs of disappointment.
Thank goodness for Remus and his endless patience that he had something to gift his parents which would assure them that he could, actually do some magic.
The chess set (green and white with little jade pieces) sat proudly on the coffee table in his grandmother's front room, the centrepiece of that evening as they sat, munching on cheese and crackers and blankly listening to carol singing on the radio. They had all eaten far too much and his father was already asleep with his head at a horrid angle, drooling a little.
It was only about seven in the evening, but Peter's eyelids were drooping, too. Something about the excitement of Christmas Day, he supposed. There were still recently opened cards sitting on the inside windowsill and neat stacks of books and games around the tree, waiting for their new owners to carry them to their homes that night.
"Shall we test it out, then?" asked Patrick to no one in particular, launching himself off the sofa as though it had taken a great effort. Peter absently admired how tall he stool and wondered when he would encounter that growth spurt.
"I'll give you a game." Offered Fionn, slipping off the sofa next to Peter to sit, cross legged, on the floor across the coffee table from Patrick. Peter took the opportunity to lie curled with his head on the arm so he could watch the game with sleepy eyes.
"You did quite a good job of these, Pete," said Fionn, squinting at one of the tiny bishops. Peter smiled his appreciation from his comfy spot. It had been a good day. He'd been worried that Christmas would have been the perfect fodder for the trench between him and his brothers to be at its all-time widest. His recent return from Hogwarts with spellbooks, a wand, stories about the castle and his magical friends were all perfect, dangerous catalysts - but he'd tried his best to keep the peace. It had been exhausting, but worth it.
"Of course he did a good job," his mother chimed in, smiling proudly at Peter. "He'll be a grand young wizard in no time, just you watch." She was too chuffed to notice Pat rolling his eyes at the pride, but he smiled good naturedly and took his first move.
Peter woke up to someone patting him on the shoulder. His neck was sore, legs cramped and his cheek was sweaty. The room was dark and empty, apart from himself and his father, standing in the dark, silhouetted by the hallway lamp.
"C'mon up then, Pete," his dad said, offering him a hand to pull himself up. "You're too old to be carried to bed these days."
Peter could hear the smile in his voice. He took the hand and allowed himself to be tugged into a one-armed hug. The smell of cooking meat lingered on his clothes from preparing dinner earlier. He had missed his dad.
"You're a good boy, Pete," he said fondly. He might as well have kissed him and said he loved him, the way Peter flushed and smiled at the ground. His new camera was pressed into his hands and his dad took the books, games and sweets he'd acquired and helped him up the stairs with them.
"See if you can't get Slughorn to show you how to make the developer additive that makes them move. But it'd be grand to have a few photos to show your brothers, ey?"
"Yeh," Peter agreed, silently thinking that he'd sooner eat the negatives then present his oldest brothers with moving pictures of the wizard school they would never be able to see. "It'd be really cool."
He crept into the bedroom him and Fionn were sharing - the lump on the top bunk already snoring. He smiled goodnight at his dad and waited for the door to click closed softly, before going to admire his new camera by the dim streetlight outside the window.
He ran his fingers over the metal casing, admiring it. He'd never owned a camera before. In fact, he'd barely used one. He was excited to learn, though. None of his brothers had ever owned one and had no idea what to do other than point and click. It would be fun to have something that was just his. He wasn't foolish enough to think that magic would ever be an impressive skill for him to weild.