Caution: Mind the notices and warnings of chapter one.

"There's Tyntesfield! The Hollow should be just ahead!"

"What?!"

Peter would have smacked Sirius if they weren't a hundred metres in the air. "I said, it should be just ahead!"

"I know! That's Tyntesfield right below! I'm bringing us down now!"

Sirius was as good as his word, and a scant few minutes later touched the motorbike down between the trees that shielded the Potters' cottage from the rest of Godric's Hollow.

Peter jumped down from the pillion seat and cast a quick cleaning charm on himself. "You could at least let me ride in the sidecar."

"Not a chance. How many times have I told you that it ruins the handling? I should get Prongs again for letting slip that the bike had one. Curse his hair to lie flat, maybe?"

"Good luck with that. Not even Lily's hair potion can get Prongs' hair under control."

Sirius laughed, threw his arm around Peter's shoulders, and they walked up to the cottage together. After a sharp rap of the knocker, the front door opened straight away to reveal James Potter. Peter eyed him nervously. Their friend wore a scraggly growth of beard and held his wand at the ready against the two arrivals.

"When did I ask you to be Harry's godfather?" James asked, in a clipped tone.

"Easy there, Prongs. It would have been sixth year summer. We'd gone up into town and got plastered on muggle beer. When we got home your parents took away our broomsticks for a week."

"I get that you need to check everyone," said Peter, "but can't we just transform for you?"

James lowered his wand and beckoned the pair inside with a smile. "Blame Moody for that friendly welcome. Come on in. Have you eaten? Lily's made sandwiches, or I can just get you a cuppa if you'd prefer."

"Wouldn't say no to a bite," replied Sirius gratefully as he stepped into the house. "Thanks."

James closed the door behind them. "You'll be glad to have it once Lily gets going. She's been reading everything she can get her hands on. We must have had Flitwick over a dozen times so Lily could pick his brain. Even Dumbledore and McGonagall joined him once." He stopped and indicated the door on the left. "Go ahead, make yourselves at home. I'll just pop in to the kitchen first and then come join."

Peter and Sirius passed through into the sitting room, where it turned out Lily was waiting for them on the couch. She nodded to them, smiling, though dark circles rimmed her eyes. "Hullo Sirius, Peter. Welcome—it's been too long."

"It's good to see you too," replied Peter, taking a seat in one of the armchairs. The cottage in Godric's Hollow was considerably less grand than the Potters' country house in Middle Tean had been. It suited them much better. A vivaciously sociable couple with a young son ought to be living among friends, not alone on a sprawling estate in the middle of nowhere. Of course, 'ought' had nothing to do with anything when you were being personally hunted by You-Know-Who.

Sirius took the second armchair opposite Peter. "How's the tyke doing?"

"Harry's taking his nap, so mind your voices. I had the worst time getting him to sleep today. It's a shame he can't take even a bit of calming draught. "Lily smoothed her robes over her legs. "I'm not asking for dreamless sleep here, just a little something to help push him in the right direction."

"Why not?" asked Sirius. Peter found it adorable how invested Sirius was in raising his godson.

"All the parenting magazines warn you off in the strictest possible terms. They say any magical suppressant can have adverse effects on infant core development. Which means you have to do everything the hard way."

"Well, we can't let my godson grow up weak now, can we? His country needs him!"

"Padfoot! Shhh…!"

Lily waved the reproof aside. "He's fine, Peter. But what do you mean? Surely you don't think…?"

"To bring home the Cup, of course.

The lad's already flying that toy broom like he was born on the damned thing. It's unbelievable. I couldn't even stay upright until I was maybe five or six." He looked at Lily. "What, did you think I meant strong enough to take on You-Know-Who or something daft like that? We'll have the Death Eaters beaten before he can say wingadium leviosa."

Lily tittered at that, though Peter could tell the subject made her nervous. Who could blame her? Raising a baby in this terrifying war must surely be hell for mothers the whole country over.

The appearance of floating dishes interrupted Sirius before he could get to sharing his nascent plans for Harry's future quidditch greatness. One setting each landed beside Sirius and Peter, and two made their way to the table in front of Lily's couch. Last came the tea, which fell to the table with a soft thump. James stepped into the room with a smug grin stretched across his handsome face. Lily gave him a droll look.

"What's that for?" asked James defensively. "Did I spill?"

"Not this time," Lily allowed. She turned to address Peter. "But what do you think happened the last three times he tried that trick?"

James settled into the couch beside Lily. "Psh, that's why they invented cleaning charms. Tuck in, lads. Lily? Care to start us off?"

Lily took her cue and clapped hands together in front of her face. "Right. So. What do you two know about the fidelius charm?"

Sirius finished chewing his bite of sandwich and swallowed. "Only what Flitwick taught us for the N.E.W.T., end of seventh year. Basically, it's a way to hide something. You entrust someone with your secret and then no one can find it out unless the keeper tells them."

Lily nodded enthusiastically. "Exactly right."

"But we never learned any of the details in class," added Peter. "Flitwick told us directly it was far past N.E.W.T. level."

James threw his arm around his wife and pulled her to his side. "I told you when we were coming in, didn't I? She's been studying."

"Maybe a little bit," Lily admitted. "Flitwick's been over a few times to help me with the details. The arithmancy involved actually isn't so bad, once he explained a few things, but the runes were a nightmare. What in Merlin's name was I thinking back in third year, when I chose to take divination instead? Mary and Remus always were the smart ones."

"Do we, uh…" Sirius looked for the right word. "Y'know, need to learn this stuff too?"

"It's interesting!" Lily rolled her eyes. "Actually, we had a great discussion about it the other day. Dumbledore stopped by with McGonagall and Flitwick to check in on us and go over the plan. He wanted to offer his services, said he could cast it for us, or even be our secret keeper."

"What'd you tell him?" asked Peter. Although Peter knew that any discussion of fidelius theory would go straight over his head, he could tell that Lily was dying to share everything she knew about it. Peter didn't mind indulging Lily's passions on the rare occasion he got to visit.

"She turned him down!" James exclaimed, giving her an affectionate little shake.

"Yes, well. It was mostly Flitwick's idea. The thing about Dumbledore is that he's a powerful wizard, right, and he's been around forever. How many secrets do you think he's keeping?"

"Hundred," guessed Sirius.

Lily shook her head. "No. Only ten. Doesn't sound like a lot, does it? But Flitwick was speechless, he'd never heard of anyone keeping more than three."

"So Dumbledore is special," shrugged Peter. "In other breaking news, the grass is green."

Lily waggled her wand at him in pretend threat. "Watch it, smart-arse. As I was saying, Dumbledore's already keeper for a ridiculous number of secrets. Point is, the more secrets you have to keep, the more unstable each fidelius becomes. Flitwick's seen wizards take a second secret and immediately give up the first one to the caster of the new fidelius."

"Blimey. Sounds dangerous." Peter set down his cup of tea and regarded Lily with more interest.

"Dumbledore said he'd had no idea. Apparently, all of this was just worked out in the last decade, by some unspeakable on a series of major breakthroughs. Flitwick knew all the details. I haven't got far enough into the literature to entirely make sense of it yet myself."

Sirius looked more interested now too. "Alright, why not have Dumbledore cast the charm and make you or Prongs keeper?"

"Turns out that's even worse. Me and James can't be keeper for the sort of opposite reason as Dumbledore. It's all down to this new arithmancy. The way Flitwick explained it, the fidelius sets up a special sort of cage around the secret. Essentially, how it works is that the secret 'wants' to get out, magically, and the charm redirects that magical force so that it strengthens the cage instead. But that also means, there's a risk of interference when you try to keep multiple secrets, because the magical signature of each secret is unique. Conversely, for people like me and James, there's too little risk—we don't see people often enough for the secret to provide the magic needed to sustain the charm."

"Bugger, this is complicated."

James gave Lily another little shake. "Don't worry, mates, it's much worse if you look at the actual arithmancy. Lily's just repeating Flitwick's metaphors, not the technical details full of symbols you've never seen before."

"Now," Lily continued, ignoring James, "the problem with Dumbledore doing the spell is easier to understand by looking at the governing runes. The formula for fidelius goes: 'A conjunction of othala and gyfu delivers algiz.' The first thing students learn at Hogwarts is that every rune has a list of associated readings. Charms with runic involvement, like the fidelius, are affected by which of those readings are invoked during casting. The most important ones for othala are all related to the home, to inheritance and heritage. Dumbledore can't access those runic levels in the same way that we can."

"Wouldn't it be best if Prongs were to cast, then?" Peter wondered aloud.

"In a perfect world, yes. I'm only tied to this house and to the Hollow by marriage, while James' family has been here for centuries."

"If we'd known about all this before we started, maybe I would have spent the past months studying the material like Lily. Though my charms aren't nearly as good as hers, in any case."

"Now there's an understatement. Lily's charms had you won over by thirteen, not to mention half the castle." Sirius relished teasing James. "Your charms are definitely lacking."

James scowled at this (admittedly accurate) jab, while Lily pressed on with her explanation. "By the way, the runic foundation is also why we're taking the time to go through the details with you. The magic of imparting is dictated by gyfu. The first level of this rune is just 'gift', but if you look it up you'll find that it's also connected with generosity, balance, and friendship. So I felt—and Flitwick agrees with me—that we'd get a stronger effect the more we were able to share with you before we perform the spell."

"So why me, then?" asked Sirius.

"Because you've been my best mate since the Hogwarts Express?" replied James, flabbergasted. "What are you on about Padfoot, you're my brother. We talked about this! I even gave Dumbledore a little tirade about it, when he visited. It's not like we can pick Moony."

"What do you mean? Why not Moony?" asked Peter.

Sirius scoffed. "Really, Wormtail, sometimes I wonder if shrinking your brain so often is making you stupid. How are they even supposed to get hold of him? You can't exactly poke your head into the fireplace and floo call the whole Brecon Beacons. That's not the real problem, though. How often do we see Moony these days? Not much—because instead of us, he's spending months on end with the dodgiest sort imaginable."

Peter tried to remember the last time the Marauders had got together. It would have been Marlene's funeral, back in August. Before that…? He couldn't say offhand.

Lily agreed. "Sirius is right. Don't get me wrong, I don't think Remus has turned or anything. It's just… I can't entirely say I trust him anymore. We feel more comfortable with someone that we've been seeing regularly. Better for the magic too, if I were to guess."

"Moony would never turn on the Order," Peter insisted. This casual suspicion of one of their closest friends upset Peter more than he would have expected. "Dumbledore saved him from growing up like the rest of the werewolves out there in the Beacons!"

James held up his hand. "We know that. Moony's braver than any of us, volunteering himself on this mental scheme of Dumbledore's. But even if he hasn't turned traitor, he's still constantly in danger of being found out. Any werewolf that got wind he was our secret keeper and brought him to the Death Eaters would immediately win You-Know-Who's favour."

"Good." Sirius slapped his knees. "I'm glad we're all in agreement." Sirius stared at Peter, until the latter rolled his eyes and gave up a shrug. "What I'd actually meant to propose wasn't that we swap to Moony, but that we swap to Wormtail."

Peter blinked in astonishment. They had never once discussed the idea of swapping. "Me?!"

James and Lily looked equally perplexed by the suggestion. "I think it's rather brilliant,"Sirius defended himself. "Since everybody who knows anything about us would assume you'd pick me."

"What about Snivellus though?" objected Peter. "He certainly knows we're all mates."

Lily levelled him with an icy glare. "We don't know for sure that Severus joined You-Know-Who."

James gave a long-suffering sigh. "Lily, I understand we've been over this a hundred times, but I swear the Death Eater that Fabian and I fought in Fenny Bridges was Snape. I'd recognise the greasy git's casting anywhere. But even if Snape's clean, we can all agree that wankers like Mulciber and Avery are fighting for You-Know-Who."

Sirius waved away the concern. "You-Know-Who's never going to listen to Snivellus whining about some halfblood nobody he's still got a grudge against from pranking him at Hogwarts. No offence."

Peter was trying to process the idea of being made secret keeper. "I mean… Merlin's saggy bollocks. I'm still going in to work!"

"And I could get captured every time Dumbledore sends me into the field! Alright, yes, I know I said I'd go into hiding. But how long can I stay off You-Know-Who's radar if he's looking for me specifically? There's always risk involved, no matter who you choose."

James was thinking it over. "It's clever. Wormtail's been hanging about in Diagon Alley for months without getting any trouble from Death Eaters. If they thought they could get to us through him, wouldn't they have done so already?"

"You're already careful, Wormtail," Sirius reassured him. "You floo to and from work, and the flat's still got every bit of protection that Marlene—rest her soul—and Amelia could think of. When was the last time you went out in public without someone from the Order?"

Lily massaged her forehead. "The more I consider this from the perspective of the Death Eaters, the less I think actually being secret keeper changes how much danger you're in. They'll just go after whoever they think might know where we are, regardless of who we pick."

"She's right. Sorry, Padfoot, but I think you're fucked either way."

Sirius ran a hand through his wavy hair and sighed. "It's what we signed up for, all of us, when we joined the Order. Dolohov had me dead to rights in that raid on Wimbourne the other week. I couldn't figure out why he tried that paralysing curse instead of avada. It bothered me for a week, until I realised he'd been fighting to capture rather than kill. That's what got me thinking about swapping keepers. They're already looking for me, fidelius or no fidelius."

"Sirius! Why didn't you tell us!?" shouted Lily, sounding horrified. "You have to go into hiding! For your own safety, if not for us!"

"I know, I know. I'll be good, promise. And we got away fine, I wasn't even hurt. Thank Merlin for Sturgis."

"What do you say, Wormtail?" James looked at him hopefully. "Would you be willing to do this for us? For Harry?"

There was only one answer when James put things like that. "I can do it, if you think that's best. It's your secret."

James looked to his wife for confirmation. "Lily?"

She squeezed his hand. "Agreed. I'm convinced. The Death Eaters are already after Sirius. At least with Peter there's a chance they overlook him. It's the safer choice."

Peter sighed with apprehension. "I guess it's an honour?"

Sirius got up and moved behind Peter's chair, then leaned over to grasp his shoulders. "That's the spirit, Wormtail. So what do we have to do?"

Lily extricated herself from James' arms and stepped over to the fireplace, took a small wooden box from the mantel, and returned to the couch. "We can do it here." She unclasped the latch, pulled out a small card of parchment, and handed it to Peter. "Read this."

The parchment was unusually weighty and very smooth. A short note was written in Lily's girlish cursive. It read: James and Lily Potter live with their son Harry at number 7, Church Lane, Godric's Hollow.

The next object Lily pulled from the small chest was another square of fine parchment, larger than the first. There were small holes punched into a cluster around each corner and the entire surface was covered with runes. Lily laid this second parchment on the low table. With a look of intense concentration, she folded each corner of the parchment in turn, so that all four points met in the centre of the square. "This is the envelope of the gift," she announced in an affectedly clear voice, and held her hand out to Peter.

Peter didn't follow the meaning of her words, but handed back the first parchment anyway. It wouldn't do to interrupt such an important process by asking for clarification. Lily then tapped the rune-inscribed parchment on the table with her wand, and the four folds opened of their own accord. She placed the smaller parchment reverently in the centre. Lily gave it another quick tap, and the corners bent back along the folds, enclosing the secret within. The line about the envelope made more sense now.

Lily again reached into the chest, this time removing a fine piece of string. She gave it to Peter to examine. The thread was a rich red orange gold colour, glistening in his fingers, and softer to the touch than demiguise silk.

Sirius, looking over Peter's shoulder, gave a soft gasp. "Merlin. It's beautiful…How's it made?"

"Preparing this stuff makes wrangling a dragon seem easy," explained James. "We'd have gone under the fidelius months ago if it weren't for that."

Peter felt his throat going dry. This was serious business then. Proper serious magic. He returned the thread to Lily. "I'm going to bind the secret," she said, still in that same even tone. Lily wound the strand in an intricate pattern through the cluster of holes, then tied it off with a simple knot. You could no longer see the inner parchment now bound inside the runic envelope. "I give the keeper the secret," she declared and offered the package to her seated friend.

Then she waved her wand and started chanting in Latin.

~xx~

"Peter Pettigrew? Is there a Peter Pettigrew working here today?"

"Yes!" called Peter from the back room. Halloween was always dreadfully busy at work. "Be there in a moment. Who's asking?" Peter bustled past the till to the front of the shop, where he found a woman in red auror robes poking her head around the dressing rooms. "Oh."

"Are you Peter Pettigrew?" she asked again, in a brisk professional voice.

"At your service."

She consulted the parchment she carried and tapped it with her wand. "Glad we could find you. If you would come with me, sir? You're needed at the ministry."

Peter felt his blood grow cold. It was never good when an auror came round to fetch you personally. "Did… Did something happen?"

"There's been an incident in Bristol. It would be…" The auror trailed off, then took a deep breath and tried again. "It would be best if you came in and saw for yourself."

Peter looked despairingly over to his supervisor. She inclined her head to him in wordless support. Everyone knew someone who'd got a similar summons. The war was getting worse every day. Bristol was home to a large magical community and had long been a Death Eater target. Vance and Sturgis lived there, as did old Doge. But if they'd come to fetch him, it was probably because…

He staggered at the thought. The auror rushed to support his arm and gave him a tense smile. "I'm not supposed to say anything until we get there, but…" She dropped her voice. "Black's still alive. Let's get you over there so you can see the situation for yourself. Think you can hold it together 'til then?"

Peter nodded, not trusting his voice, and the auror led him out of Madame Malkin's into Diagon Alley. The high street was mostly empty, as so often these days, with only a few scared-looking wizards clutching their robes against the unusually cold weather that had gripped the country over the past month. She nudged him along, and they continued down the road toward the Leaky Cauldron.

"I thought we were going to the ministry," Peter wondered aloud. "Why are we heading toward the Leaky?"

Too late, he realised that they had entered the apparition zone. He felt the familiar pressure squeezing him from every angle, and a moment later they arrived in what appeared to be an abandoned warehouse.

"Don't even think about it," came a voice from behind. "The anti-disapparition field is already up." Not abandoned, then.

Peter turned around and felt his stomach drop when he recognised the wizard. If it had been someone like Avery, he might have had a chance in a fight. Against Rabastan Lestrange, the top ranked duellist in all of Europe? His chances were less than zero.

"Leave us, Fowler," Lestrange commanded the auror. "We'll take good care of this one."

"I'll get back to the Ministry, then. Can you believe they've got us doing sweeps in southern Kent? Who in their right mind would want to attack Kent of all places?"

Lestrange's laugh was surprisingly musical. "Your honourable service combatting the Death Eaters' evil campaign against the sheep of Kent does the country proud, my friend."

Did this dismissive talk of Kent mean they weren't expecting any allies from the continent? That had long been Dumbledore's greatest fear, according to Sirius, indeed almost a paranoid obsession. Peter thought it a bad sign if the Death Eaters felt they could talk so freely in front of him.

The auror—Fowler, Peter reminded himself—strolled over to the exit and vanished once she reached the grass outside. The anti-disapparition field stops at the grass. There was only one way out, and he would only get one chance. His form was not suited for attack. Only in cramped quarters did he have a natural advantage indoors, but they were nowhere near the sort of wall that might have a convenient hole through which he might escape. A rat on this open floor would be target practice. How could he possibly get far enough to disapparate?

"Why don't you start by dropping your wand?" suggested the Death Eater, in the same tone one might use to propose going for a sundae at Fortescue's.

Slowly, not wanting Lestrange to think him a threat, Peter lowered his wand to the ground. Maybe he could come back for it later. If it was lost, well, his wand would be a minor sacrifice. He had never achieved particularly notable results with it.

Lestrange flicked his own wand and gave an incantation Peter didn't recognise. He flinched, but all the Death Eater had done was conjure a pair of chairs. Although one of them was outfitted with manacles. Lestrange reached out his hand in invitation, and Peter sat as instructed. The manacles wound between his legs and snapped shut over his wrists.

Lestrange casually took the other seat. "We've been looking for you, Pettigrew."

"M-Me? W-Why?" Peter stuttered.

"Remember a fellow, name of Rosier, went to Hogwarts with you? He certainly remembered you. Apparently you and your mates made quite the name for yourselves. The Dark Lord was very interested to learn all about how Potter used to run around with Black and Lupin and some bloke Pettigrew no one'd ever heard of."

Peter couldn't stop another shiver of fear. The chains rattled.

Lestrange watched him with an amused look. "Most of the younger lads keep to themselves, you know. Awfully rare to hear any of 'em speak up in a meeting. But that was Rosier for you. A real hot-head, he was, too high an opinion of himself. 'Course that's probably how he got himself avada'd by that mad-eyed bastard of yours."

There was a loud crack and a second wizard appeared in the middle of the warehouse. This new arrival was dressed in the same elegant black robes as Peter's captor. He was taller and thicker of build, and wore his dark hair uncombed to the shoulder. Another Death Eater. Peter swallowed down a bit of vomit. He was fucked.

"This him, then?"

"Aye. I was just telling our guest about how young Rosier met his tragic end."

"Auror scum." He spat. "I've been looking to cross wands with the bastard for years. Think he's scared?"

"Scared of you, brother?" Rabastan laughed. "I should certainly hope so."

Rodolphus Lestrange. Dread settled in his stomach like spoiled milk. Where Rabastan was famous throughout Britain for his prodigious exploits on the duelling circuit, his elder brother was infamous for the trail of brutal savagery he'd left across the country in service to the Death Eater cause. The Order held him as the third most dangerous of their opponents, beneath only his wife and master. Peter was beginning to truly panic. He was worse than fucked.

"As I was saying," Rabastan continued, while Rodolphus conjured himself a simple stone bench. "We've been looking for you. For months now, actually. Imagine the surprise when our spy let slip about the fat little tailor he used to see always running around with Black and Potter at your Order's get-togethers."

Rodolphus did not have a musical laugh. "That fucker never gives us anything useful. But…well, there's a reason we throw him the odd galleon. Merlin knows it's not for charity, even if the tramp sure looks like he fuckin' needs it."

"Dumbledore's a soft touch. I bet he'd give me a 'second chance' if I showed up to one of those meetings, all repentant-like."

"What about me?"

"You? Repentant? You'd have your wand drawn in five seconds, all plans be damned, if it meant you could fight Dumbledore head-on."

The elder Lestrange gave a toothy grin. "That's damn right, I would."

"But to return to our guest here. Do you have any idea how stupid we felt when we heard the news? Should have realised a queer fuck like you would work in fashion. Once we knew, it was just a matter of going from one shop to the next until you turned up."

"And now it's time for you to sing."

Peter looked frantically from one brother to the other. These were professional killers—he'd never get the jump on them just by transforming. He had to try to lie."I… Y-You must be confused. I haven't seen Potter or Black in months!"

Rabastan gave him a sly look. "How…convenient for you."

"N-No! Really, I mean it! We had a f-falling out. A-About the O-Order. I said they should g-give it up, s-stop playing…" Peter released a shuddering breath and tried again. "Stop p-playing at heroes! They t-told me they didn't ever want to see m-my face again!"

"Why should we believe you?"

"I swear! I'll—I'll take v-veritaserum! Anything!"

Rodolphus let out another crack of his dry laugh. "The pervert thinks we'll waste our veritaserum on him! How adorable is that?!"He dropped his head in exaggerated disbelief. When he raised it, Peter could see a fierce light animating the Death Eater's dark eyes. "How about we try things my way? I know cutting curses that won't let you reattach what you've lost. Maybe we should start with a finger…?"

"Don't be crude, Rodolphus," chastised the younger Lestrange. Then he addressed Peter with false clemency. "We could go after your friends… Remus Lupin, wasn't he out in Wales, slumming it with the packs? Fenrir always loves checking up on his little cubs…"

"No, no…"

"Or the blood traitor," Rabastan threw out. "There's a fine idea."

"No! No, no, no…"

"Bellatrix has been just rabid to hunt him down. Taking off the leash and getting her on the scent, eh Rodolphus? How's that sound for a honeymoon?"

Rodolphus threw his arm around his brother's shoulders and laughed. "Bella's a very special woman and I'm a very lucky man."

"You two are a couple of sick fucks."

"And proud of it, little brother!" exclaimed Rodolphus, clapping Rabastan on the back.

"No, no, p-please…"

"We'll find them eventually you know," said Rabastan cooly. "You can't protect them. You can't protect anyone. But the Dark Lord is merciful. If you cooperate, he might be willing to spare them." He watched as the little remaining colour drained from Peter's face. "So tell us: Where. Are. The. Potters?"

"I don't know!"

Rodolphus yawned and scratched his nose. "Just fuckin' crucio him already, if you won't let me have my fun."

Rabastan sighed. "You're even worse at interrogation than Bellatrix. No sense of psychology, no feeling for the subject, no imagination whatsoever."

"Fuckin' Ravenclaws. Not everything needs to be studied to death and reduced to first principals. Are you gonna teach him about pain, or not?"

Rabastan raised his wand. "Crucio." And the torture began.

Peter had heard about the pain from the others. How many times had Marlene stepped through their fireplace and straightaway collapsed in a heap of red robes? Sirius had been hit just once, and afterwards confided in Peter that he'd rather die than face the curse again.

It was a hundred times worse than he'd expected. "I don't know—I don't…" He gasped for breath, desperately trying to stop himself from shaking. "I swear I don't!"

"Crucio."

It was like every nerve was lit on fire at once. Peter thrashed against the restraints. "I don't know I don't know I…"

"Crucio."

A thousand needles stabbing every cell. Transformation was already beyond him. "Don't know I don't fucking know"

"Crucio."

His brain leaking down into his spine. "Don't fucking know—fuck—fucking…"

"Crucio!"

Death. "Know don't fucking Godric fuck fuck…"

"Crucio!"

Hell. "Hollow fuck make it…"

"Crucio!"

It was worse than death. They were worse than devils. "Stop! Fuck! G-Godric's fucking H-Hollow fucking fuck!" Peter twitched. He noticed he had soiled himself. Was all already lost? "Just kill me just please—just please fucking kill me… P-Please. Please make it s-stop…"

"Crucio!"

Words failed to describe the pain. Peter had kept many secrets in his short life. He had kept Sirius' secret, for years, even when he had wanted nothing so much as to bring their love out into the open. He had kept Remus' secret, for even longer, because it was necessary to keep him safe. But not all secrets are equal, or equally difficult to keep. "Please! I'll d-do anything! They're—they're…n-number seven—Church L-Lane! That's all I know! I swear, I swear, please make it stop. Please. Please just please just please kill me…"

The Lestrange brothers stared at each other. "He actually knew it all along?"

They both descended into hysterics.

"Boy, you will never be welcome back now." Rodolphus waved his wand and dispelled the chair and chains, dumping Peter on the hard stone flooring. "Fuck. I thought if we were lucky you might lead us to Black. To get the Potters…"

"Ready to meet your new master?"

Before Peter could reply, Rodolphus seized his arm and forced him into another side-along apparition. They landed on the parquet floor of a windowless chamber. The room was lit by torches and a single chair carved from dark wood stood against the far wall like a throne.

"Master!" cried Rodolphus. "Your servant brings good news!"

A moment later, a dark figure materialised on the throne, and the brothers hurried to their knees and bowed their heads. Rodolphus forced Peter to the ground.

"Fool! Only I decide whether your news is good."

Rabastan remained bent in supplication. "My Lord. We found Pettigrew. He's given us the Potters' location."

"Rise, my dear servants, and tell your master what you've learned."

Rodolphus wrenched Peter back to standing. "They're hiding like scared rats in Godric's Hollow. This wretch even managed to hand over the specific address. Number seven, Church Lane, he said."

"Number seven…How interesting. The workings of fate are mysterious indeed… See how the universe itself conspires to secure Lord Voldemort's ascension! I do believe this calls for a little announcement. Rabastan, to me."

"As you will, my Lord." Rabastan approached the throne and presented his left forearm to his master. You-Know-Who pressed his wand to the flesh. Rodolphus' grip tightened for an instant, though his face remained impassive.

Cloaked figures rapidly filled the chamber. Most wore their masks—had they apparated in directly from combat?—but a few were bare-faced. Peter easily picked out Avery and Mulciber, though there was no sign of Snivellus. Perhaps Lily's blind faith in her erstwhile friend was right after all?

You-Know-Who called everyone to attention. "Death Eaters!" He stood from the throne as the room fell to their knees. "Rise! I call you here to share a momentous occasion. Our victory approaches!"

The Death Eaters stamped the floor and gave up a raucous cheer. You-Know-Who raised his arm and they fell silent. "The blood traitor James Potter has finally been exposed. Soon, I will go to their wretched hiding place and exterminate his entire family. And then…" He paused and smiled. "And then we shall march on the Ministry. Tonight, Britain shall fall!"

The cry that went up from the Death Eaters was twice as loud as the first. You-Know-Who allowed this applause for a few seconds, then silenced it with another gesture of his hand. He flicked his wand and Peter felt himself lifting into the air to be put on display for the assembled crowd. "It's all thanks to this…man." He uttered this last word with sceptical distaste. "Delivering the Potters… How many of you have failed in the same mission? Wouldn't you agree that such excellent service deserves the highest reward?"

You-Know-Who smiled at the eager shout of approval coming from his subjects. He stabbed his wand. "Morsinscidre!"

The outline of a skull incised itself into the skin of Peter's forearm. The pain was worse than Rabastan's cruicatus. A snake emerged from the mouth of the skull and curled upon itself. Peter could not understand how he was still alive. The test of the Dark Mark was not about willingness, precisely. It was not a test for loyalty. The Death Eaters had no use for such high-minded frivolities. It was, instead, a test against betrayal. And when Peter looked deep into those fearsome eyes, gleaming bloody crimson as the Dark Lord worked his dark magic, the thought of betrayal was the furthest thing from his mind. London would fall, and Britain, and there was nothing anyone could do to stop it.

"Please welcome the dear Wormtail to our proud cause!"

At least in this mixture of laughter and mocking applause no one could hear Peter's fit of tears.

~xx~

"Are you alright, sir?"

Peter looked up to see a little muggle boy, no more than ten or eleven years old, bundled up against the cold and dreary morning. He tried to smile. "Nothing's the matter."

"Then… Then why are you crying?"

Peter wiped at his eyes. "Sometimes adults have to cry, too. You'll understand when you're older. Now run along. You wouldn't want your parents to worry."

The boy regarded him uneasily, obviously unsatisfied with Peter's answer, before turning to scamper off into StMatthias Park. Peter relaxed back against the bench and stared into the cloudy sky. He had looked that innocent once. Lily and James too. No more. All that was left was to sit outside this flat in Old Market, so full of memories. Sirius was probably looking for him all over England. Sooner or later, he would realise the one place the traitor was sure to go.

It wasn't long to wait. A crack announced an apparition to the gates outside the flat. Peter walked out into the street to meet him. Sirius was twitchy and unshaven, and looked to have aged ten years in a day. Peter would remember that face forever. It would join all those other faces, all those happier faces, in the treasury of his heart. Even if he had to throw away the key.

Sirius was screaming something at him, but the words swept past unheard. Peter had already gleaned all he cared to know just from looking into the man's eyes. They bored into him with a look of absolute repugnance. Peter saw in that moment, beyond the shadow of every doubt, that there could be no going back to his friends. The Peter Pettigrew who had once kissed Sirius Black in an abandoned classroom was dead. He had been condemned, together with Lily and James, in the very instant the Potters' secret had escaped his lips.

Peter's wand was already in his hand. "Here is the man who killed Lily and James Potter!" It was half confession, half he aimed and fired, casting his confringo into the tarmac behind him. Peter had never been able to match the output of Remus, to say nothing of truly gifted wizards like Sirius or James, and so he was amazed at how powerful an explosion his spell triggered. (Then he remembered from muggle studies about the gas network hidden beneath the streets.) With one last look into Sirius' horror-stricken face, Peter cut off a finger and transformed. A new life awaited. He would join the other rats, those worthless and disgusting vermin, a whole horde of vile and noxious and contemptible creatures just like him.

~xxxx~

A/N: We watch spy flicks and read gritty novels and it's easy to cheer for the protagonist stoically facing down interrogation. The blunt truth is that I would crack in about one second of torture, and you probably would too. Sirius' "Then you should have died!" is awfully easy to say when you're the one holding the wand.

This is the most important chapter in the story, so I'd like to explain the 'twist' in a bit of detail. I know JKR's Wizarding World says "the secret cannot be […] tortured out of a Secret Keeper who does not wish to give up their secret; it must be given voluntarily." This is a red herring. After enough torture, the keeper might easily wish to volunteer the secret in exchange for mercy. The canon plot simply does not work without this loophole: the fidelius must be breakable under duress or the whole shell game of hiding the secret keeper becomes completely unnecessary.

More to the point, we must infer from the proposal to swap keepers that Sirius recognises he is in danger of succumbing to torture. There is an enormous difference between a Sirius who's humble enough to understand his limits and offer up an alternative, and the Sirius who screams about dying for the cause in the Shack. This gap is one measure of Azkaban's toll.

Thus the 'motive' of Peter's betrayal turns out to be the simplest one possible. Peter is not Voldemort's spy in the Order—in fact, he cannot be Voldemort's spy. The timeline of events between the prophecy in early 1980 and the Potters' murder on Halloween of 1981 makes no sense otherwise. I'm meant to believe Peter sat on their non-fideliused hideout's location for over a year, and then neglected to reveal the secret for an entire week after the fidelius was done? Really?

In this story, the spy is Mundungus Fletcher. From his perspective, he's not even giving the Death Eaters anything good! "Yeah there was this weird tailor who used to hang out with a few of the new recruits" doesn't seem all that problematic to sell over to the other side for a bit of cash. Crucially, it's the kind of thing that also wouldn't seem that problematic to Dumbledore when assessing Fletcher's loyalties. We get a vague impression that Fletcher has a history of dodginess (which is foreshadowing for his theft of the locket horcrux). Dumbledore has a weakness for giving second chances, and dropping a few minor crumbs to the other side for the odd galleon seems like something he would absolutely be willing to overlook.

DH tells us that Godric's Hollow is in the West Country. Requiring a sensible route for baby Harry to "fall asleep over Bristol" en route with Hagrid to Surrey roughly limits plausible locations to the area between that city and Clevedon, or perhaps Weston-super-Mare. Middle Tean, mentioned as the (former) location of the Kiln, is an invented magical enclave neighbouring the real villages of Upper and Lower Tean. Fenny Bridges, meanwhile, can be found in an interesting area of Devon.

The beginning elaborates my solution to numerous plot holes in the Potters' secret keeper arrangement. But you already knew all those details about how the fidelius works from Flitwick's article in Modern Charmancy, didn't you? ;)