Love Grows (Where My Rosemary Goes)
Spring Term: 1976, Fifth Year:
It had been Sirius’ idea to have Peter sneak into the Ravenclaw Common Room, only— Peter knew— because a rat scurrying past some first year's feet would be far less alarming and easier to pull off than doing so with a large dog or worse, a nearly fully adult male deer: antlers and all. Plus, the only Marauder that Sirius, James, and Peter believed confidently could solve the riddle to get through the entrance was Remus and he was not allowed to know this was happening. (“Ever.,” Sirius had said.)
So, only by process of elimination, Peter it was. He was just supposed to sneak into the dormitories, plant some herb on Barty Crouch, a 4th year Ravenclaw’s, pillow that would turn his hair bright pink cause he'd said some vaguely sour thing about some half-blood prefect. After what James and Peter referred to exclusively as “That Night”— because it felt genuinely wrong to refer to what Sirius had done as a prank— Sirius' new thing was wildly over reactionary vigilante justice. And Sirius Black being Sirius Bloody Black meant that everyone had to go along with whatever scheme he had cooked up. Except Remus of course who Peter figured Sirius would never ask another favor of ever again. That wasn't a kind of debt you ever repaid, letting a secret like that loose, especially to Severus Snape of all people.
Peter had no idea as to why Sirius thought this would make anything better, especially if Remus didn’t even know it was happening. But the Marauders as of late had become a militia of nuisances and that meant Wormtail was made to run about the castle in rat form causing minor chaos during all the hours in which he should be studying for his far too rapidly approaching OWLs.
The first time Gilderoy Lockhart and Peter Pettigrew met was in a wizards’ chess tournament. They shook hands before the match and Lockhart flashed Peter a wickedly charming grim, one he swore almost twinkled.
“Gilderoy,” Lockhart said.
“Peter.” Peter’s voice cracked as he replied. He cleared his throat. There was a focused silence for the first four moves of the game and then it began.
“You know,” said Gilderoy, “my father taught me how to play chess. He’s the quiet intellectual type, like you.” He winked and Peter felt his face grow warm. The rest of the match was a string of stories about Lockhart’s father who seemed to be a boring, though smart, character. He only took short breaks to command a piece and huff slightly at his piece loses. He didn’t even stop talking when Peter commanded a piece. Peter nodded along. The only person Peter had met before Gilderoy with that much ego was James but even James couldn’t make a tale so incredibly dreary and dull as Stephan Lockhart’s Newt results and late night study habits sound like an epic adventure the way Gilderoy did. Peter could swear it was the most exciting story he’d ever been told and he knew it was only because of the way Lockhart told it.
Every once in a while Peter would chuckle, look up and make eye contact and see a twinkle pass over Gilderoy’s eyes. He knew then what that winded feeling he got from those moments was; it was affection. The same kind he had found himself feeling toward James when he was young and unaware, though that was long buried by now. Peter was a sucker for overconfidence and a natural charm that made you glow a bit like the sun and he knew it.
Gilderoy’s stories only stopped when Peter extended a hand and said, “checkmate.”
Gilderoy huffed then shook it with more energy than he needed to and said, “well played, Petey. Got me distracted” without dropping that cheeky grin.
That was months ago and they hadn’t spoken since, hadn’t even run into each other all term. (Peter would’ve noticed.) But still he knew exactly who it was who stepped on his little rat hand on the way into the 4th year Ravenclaw Boy’s dorm immediately by the long golden hair and memorably springy stride. Gilderoy squealed like a mouse and ran into the common room and Peter could hear him shout, “SOMEONE’S MANGY LITTLE RAT HAS RAN OFF INTO MY DORMITORY!”
Well there goes that plan, Peter thought. There were only a few people in the common room. He had tried to do this while most students would be in their classes and he knew Barty Crouch would be but still, he knew at least one of them would be trying to catch him and Peter would be running on a hurt paw.
Without any other choice— Peter would kill Sirius for putting him up to this alone— he darted into the common room and went straight toward the exit but Gilderoy leapt at him and caught him on the floor. There was commotion amongst the students and talks of finding and telling a professor so that the rat could be “returned” if it was a pet and “discarded” if it was a pest.
Peter hated being a rat. An animagus was one of the coolest things you could be as a wizard, he had always believed it, and he really had worked so hard to become one, all just to be the most revoked animal he could imagine. Just his luck. He had always been decently great, great enough to be possibly the youngest animagus in magical history, great enough to be a bloody marauder, but in a crowd that consisted of Remus Lupin, Sirius Black, and James Potter, Peter knew that his mediocrity stuck out like a sore thumb. Once in second year, Mulciber had announced to their entire transfiguration class that Peter was “bad at every kind of magic you used a wand for.” This had, of course, provoked a curse from James but nonetheless it had stuck with Peter, mostly because it was decently true. His marks were below average in every subject that required a wand. He was good at herbology and astronomy but aside from a small skill in divination, Peter excelled in nothing that a muggle couldn’t do. So, of course he was a rat. What a change in luck it would be for Peter Pettigrew to turn into anything that had even a shred more dignity.
He squeaked a few times and thrashed around. No luck. His final move was nothing more than a desperate act of self preservation, however lacking in integrity it may have been. A student opened the door to retrieve a teacher and Peter bit down on Gilderoy’s hand as hard as he needed to to force him to let go and bolted out of the room.
Wormtail didn’t turn back into normal human Peter until he had limped safe back to his own dorm where Sirius sat on his bed cross-legged and waiting.
“Did you do it?” Sirius asked. Peter cradled his throbbing human hand and looked up at Sirius, watching the worry grow on his face.
“I need you to walk me to the hospital wing,” he said.
They walked in silence which Peter figured made Sirius uncomfortable because he whistled lightly every once in a while like it was awkward. It wasn't awkward for Peter, he just really didn't fancy explaining and his hand looked and felt like it had been run over by a train. When they finally made it to the infirmary, who else but Gilderoy Lockhart was sat on a bed cradling his own hand.
He smiled when he saw Peter and cheerily said, “Oo look matching injuries! I’ll show you mine if you me yours.” He had far too much energy for the hospital wing. Peter tipped his whole body to show his hand, careful not to move any part of his arm. Gilderoy made a sour expression.
“Looks bad. What did you do to it?”
“Shut it in a door,” Peter replied, cool and confident because lying came very easy to him.
“Rat bit me– little bugger.” Sirius’ eyes widened and he stared at Peter with his jaw dropped. Peter shrugged and tried to send him a face that said ‘desperate times’ and Sirius rolled his eyes in response.
He left Peter there with Gilderoy waiting for Madame Pomfrey because it was time for dinner and Peter figured that the lack of conversation was too uncomfortable for Sirius.
“I’ll grab you something I know you’ll like and bring it up to the dorm, yeah?” Sirius said as he was walking around the corner into the corridor. Peter nodded when Sirius turned around with his eyebrows up. He sighed pitifully and said, “feel better, Wormy. Sorry about your hand,” and patted the door frame before sauntering off down the hall.
Peter knew he was a sight worth being sorry for right now. His hand looked broken in more than one spot and ached and throbbed enough that he was nauseous. He had cried silently a bit on the walk here and tried his best to hide it. Still, a face as red as Peter's naturally was was sure to tell that secret.
Gilderoy tutted, “It's good you’ve got him with you in your dorm.” He looked at Peter cautiously. “And Remus and Potter too. Seem like a decent lot. Not me.” He rolled his eyes almost theatrically. “I’ve only got one other person in my dormitory, you believe that? and Barty is basically a Slytherin at this point. Hardly talks with us at all. All caught up in spending his free time with Pands’ brother. Probably practicing their Unforgivables together. There ARE worse people but they've always been a bit,” he paused to think of the right word. “Dramatic,” he decided and tossed his hair. It was long and golden blonde and curled just perfectly and probably took hours every morning to do. Peter chuckled shortly.
He opened his mouth to find something to say but Pomfrey made her entrance just then, throwing open the door and rushing in, potion in hand.
“Here you are Mr. Lockhart and I will wrap that bite in a bandage just as soon as,” she stopped just as she saw Peter. “Mr. Pettigrew, I Oh!” She looked slightly stunned. “Oh darling that looks awfully painful. Give me one moment to tend to Mr. Lockhart and I will help you.”
Gilderoy made pained faces as she wrapped his hand but occasionally looked at Peter and smiled. Madame Pomfrey told Gilderoy he was free to go but he got up and sat in the bed beside Peter, smiled at Pomfrey and said, “Solidarity” with a nod of his head.
“Now how did you manage this?” Pomfry asked in a mixture of disbelief and disappointment, turning his hand around by his wrist and making Peter wince several times. A human sized foot can do real damage to a rat sized hand.
“Got in a fight with a door,” Peter said, making Gilderoy chuckle lightly and smile. It was a good smile. “Lost, unfortunately, but I haven't given up yet. Figure with a little training, next time I’ll only break one finger.”
Pomfrey tutted, “You Gryffindor boys. Reckless to your own ends, the entire lot of you. Seems I have a least two of you in here every day.”
“We're only trying to make sure you know how to do your job right, ma'am. Testing you for the sake of your other students. Think of us as lab rats.”
Pomfrey gave him a look that suggested she didn't find this comment as funny as Peter thought it was. Gilderoy gave him a look saying the opposite. Peter continued, “I, for one, think you’ve proved yourself entirely by now but Remus isn't convinced. Trying to be in here as much as he can.” Pomfrey lifted her wand and snapped a finger back into place with a flick. Peter cried out slightly.
“Yeah! I always see him with scabs and scrapes. Has quite the knack for injuring himself, hasn't he?” Gilderoy chimed in. Neither person responded. Pomfrey snapped something in Peter’s palm back. She looked closely at Peter's mostly healed hand after a few seconds and hummed.
“Oh, darling this one is going to be tricky,” she said before flicking her wand and snapping his nearly completely sideways pointer finger back to pointing but not quite in the right direction. It was close though, close enough you could barely notice. Peter clenched his fist to check that it worked and it did.
“Good as new,” he commented and smiled up at Madame Pomfrey.
“Yes, well, good as it's going to get.”
She gave him a pain killing potion for the discomfort and sent the boys on their way. Gilderoy and Peter walked together as long as they could without going in the wrong direction from their respective common rooms because Gilderoy had suggested it. Gilderoy asked Peter about how chess was going and Peter was happy to humor him with some short anecdotes. When they finally reached the corridor where Lockhart would have to split off he turned to Peter.
“Well I’ll see you round, Peter old man! Stay away from doors!” he said and nearly skipped off in the direction of the Ravenclaw Common Room. Peter watched him until he turned a corner, watched his feet click against the tile heel first in a rhythmic pattern, watched as he almost ran right into the corner he was turning. Peter let out a long sigh and turned toward Gryffindor tower.
When he got back to his dorm, he found that his bed had four meals worth of food piled atop it and James and Sirius were waiting to check up on him. Remus was in his bed with the curtains drawn. This was the state of the Marauders: Sirius with a perpetual look of sorry and Remus as far away as he could manage to be without making a scene. James usually looked like the whole world was built out of glass dominoes and one less than graceful comment could shatter the perfect life he had built for himself.
Peter tried to go along with what he could manage and not make a scene. He was no stranger to eating dinner in silence because of a fight he wasn't in. His dormitory was beginning to feel like his parents house and he thought for a moment about leaving and going for a walk. He could easily sneak about the castle after curfew in rat form but he didn’t want to have to explain his absence to James, whom he knew would ask. Besides, the potion was making him a bit too sleepy for a walk. He thought about going to find Gilderoy, about how comforting his stupid grin was, about rescuing him from Barty for the night. He didn’t, of course, do any of that but he thought of it and the daydream was enough to get him through another awkward night in Gryffindor Tower.