The man who was once known as Peter Pettigrew was on the run, fearing that his 'good old friend' Sirius would finally find him and kill him, devouring him with his canine fangs.

His disguise as the innocent, harmless old mouse from the poorest pure-blood family in the British wizarding world was off.

He was running away, yes, but... he had a plan. Sirius could never even harm him if he could bring back his old and powerful Master. His Master would surely understand that he was helping him only to save his own life but he was sure that unlike others, he would be rewarded.

And it was for this reason that, even though he was shaking and hurt, he had decided to go to the place his Master had mentioned to him.

A place where even its noble and powerful Master was afraid to set foot and yet Peter had to summon up the last shred of Gryffindor courage he had left and enter the heart of that terrifying, dark forest.

Because there was someone in there that would help him bring his dear Master back to life...


He knew very well that he was entering a thick, dark forest, but he didn't expect it to be so thick and, above all, so dark.

It must have been the first light of morning, yet it seemed to be perpetually the dead of night. Unfortunately, he was not alone. Having become a tiny animal, larger predators and other evil creatures could hardly see him. They, however, felt his presence, smelled it and were ready at any moment to kill him in an instant.

He continued to wander for hours and hours, perhaps even days, until he spotted what his dear Master had told him about.

"In the heart of that dark forest, you will find a majestic and evil tree with blood-red leaves. At its feet is a hole, the entrance that will take you straight to his lair..."

The man, or rather the mouse, found the tree that nostalgically reminded him of The Whomping Willow and fell into that hole at its feet...

..

.


Peter didn't know exactly where he was. Luckily for him, in the maze of corridors where he had fallen, there were some torches that illuminated his path. To orient himself, the mouse used his senses and followed that very familiar smell...

The smell of death.

After many minutes of wandering through corridors filled with skeletal remains and caked bloodstains, the frightened little mouse arrived at the center of a large, well-lit room, at the end of which stood an imposing ancient throne.

Its tall, imposing backs were carved from knotty, twisted sticks, intertwined with bent roots and dead twigs that coiled like sleeping snakes. Each piece of wood seemed to tell a tale of torment, its irregular grain unraveling like scars over time. The seat was covered in moss, while small vines crawled up the armrests.

On the central back of the throne, a large carved face is flanked by ominous symbols: flaming eyes and a cold, determined, fear-inspiring gaze. Wild plants grew erratically around the throne, adding to the aura of mystery.

That throne was not just a simple seat. It was a symbol of power, pure evil and sitting on it, he who was worthy to sit there. A man older than the throne itself, his face identical to the one carved on the central backrest.

The old man sat majestically, exuding an aura of ancient wisdom and darkness. His long hair and silver beard floated like mist around his weathered, lined face. Each wrinkle told of his every evil deed over time, revealing piercing, glittering eyes that seemed to pierce the souls of those who dared to approach.

He wore a great azure cloak, embroidered with arcane symbols and indecipherable patterns, which contrasted with his ash-gray skin. His long, skeletal hands, gnarled and tapered, moved slowly, gesticulating in an eerie manner as they held an ancient, gnarled wooden staff.

The shape of that staff was irregular, revealing a certain robustness and at the same time a delicacy, as if it had been sculpted by time itself. Every knot and curve seemed to give it a unique personality, almost as if it had absorbed the wisdom of the man who used it.

"I was waiting for you to arrive, rat."

His voice was a distant echo, deep, inspiring fear and respect. Despite his frail appearance due to his age, there was an undeniable strength emanating from him, an irresistible call to anyone seeking power, but always hidden by an imminent danger.

"Show me your true form!" the elder thundered and, slamming the tip of his staff on the floor, the animagus's spell broke, revealing his hideous, deformed appearance.

Peter, stumbling and shaking with fear, immediately knelt before the old one.

"Oh noble and powerful Sin! I am honored to be in the presence of such a wise Alchemist and-"

The tip of the staff clattered onto the cold floor again, silencing the frightened man.

"Silence, you vile servant! Didn't your master teach you good manners?!"

He put a bony hand to his chest, offended.

"I am much more than a simple alchemist! I existed long before those incompetent troglodytes played with their vials, believing they controlled the cosmos! I existed long before those who mixed roots and berries, calling themselves druids! Alchemist is a simplification of my grandiose and immense existence!" He thundered and the crouched man seemed to grow smaller and smaller.

"I know perfectly well the reason that brought you here." He rose from his throne and slowly approached the wretch who did not dare look him in the eyes.

"You want me to help you find your master...and yet you don't need to know that. You already know where he is, don't you?"

"O-of course n-no, I h-have-"

The loud thud terrified Peter.

"Tell me the truth!"

"YES, MY MASTER IS HIDDEN IN ALBANIA!"

He screamed, starting to cry uncontrollably.

"H-he h-had personally confided in me that if one day he disappeared, he would be there..."

"You've never looked for it before, have you?"

"I-I didn't have time and-"

The staff clanged again, thundering menacingly, and Peter clumsily tried to hide his head under his arms.

"I WANTED TO STAY AWAY FROM HIM, I WANTED TO RUN AWAY! NOW I NEED HIS HELP, TO BE PROTECTED!"

He confessed, sweating coldly.

"Get up, animal."

The man obeyed and felt even more insignificant and pathetic in front of that tall man who judged him with his cold and penetrating gaze, with eyes as blue as ice.

"I remember your master. He once dared to come here, in my presence, trying to learn, steal my secrets... I chased him away, or as common mortals would say, I killed him." He sighed, for him it was like remembering having stepped on a particularly annoying ant. "I suppose he survived though, the fool thought he was invincible even back then. And now you're asking me to help him?!"

Peter trembled at this accusation and could do nothing but nod.

"Your master is now a miserable wandering Spectre and needs a body to possess."

He raised his staff threateningly and from the floor emerged a tiny, hideous, deformed body of bone and blood.

"I'm sure that if he's as good a 'wizard' as he claims to be, he'll be able to return to his former appearance even with a body like this."

Peter couldn't believe it and burst into tears of joy.

"OH POWERFUL, IMMENSE, GENEROUS SIN! I DON'T EVEN KNOW HOW TO THANK YOU!"

"Oh, I know." He hissed, a hint of malice in his voice that made the little man's blood run cold.

"Under different circumstances I would have given it to you and at most used your flaccid body for a week of painful experiments but unfortunately for you, I have other plans."

The old man turned his back on him, ignoring the other's tremors. "Fate has been changed."

"F-fate? W-what do you mean?" Peter stammered uncertainly.

"What I never expected has happened. Fate is giving me an opportunity to finally realize my plans and to do this..." he whirled around and pointed his staff at the other's plump throat. "I need you. You will be the perfect bait to catch my prey!"

Before Peter could react, Sin raised his staff menacingly and slammed it viciously into his chest, tearing it open.

The man felt as if he had been pierced by a sharp sword.

"SHOW ME THE TRUTH!"

A flash of blue light hit Peter's wound and he felt a terrible, indescribable pain...

Peter had visions of his life.

He saw himself as a young man, pathetic and horrible, in front of a mirror.

Not even his mother dared to come near him.

He saw the faces of his friends who supported him triumphantly.

He saw himself transform into a mouse and run into the night, free.

He saw his master's satisfied grin.

He saw the faces of his friends...dead.

He saw a pathetic little man who had betrayed everyone, even...himself.

He screamed in pain and finally collapsed to the ground, convulsing. His gaze was empty, lifeless.

Slowly roots emerged from the floor and dragged him with them into the depths of the earth. "Do not fear my rodent friend, your pathetic existence will finally be of some use!" the old man mocked him, laughing. His evil laughter was a shrill and hoarse sound, an echo that seemed to come from the bowels of the earth itself, that earth that had swallowed up its victim greedily and hungry...

..

.


AN: Writing this second chapter was faster than I expected! I loved writing a new antagonist for this story, it's nice to be able to experiment with a vast magical world like this. Until next time, hoping that the writing of the next chapters will be just as fast.