First Year: Peter Pettigrew

“A bear, I reckon.”

“And where would he bump into a bear?!”

“Maybe he lives in a forest?”

“It could've been something magic. Like a doxy.”

“What's a doxy?”

“You don't know what a doxy is?”

“No, I do, I – I just wanted to make sure we were talking about the same thing."

“Yeah. Well. Obviously I know what they are too. They live in forests. Maybe he wanted to get close –”

“They do not live in forests.” Lily folded her arms over her book with a thump, glaring across the table at James, Peter (who for the record did not know what a doxy was), and Claudia. “And they’re not going to cause that level of damage, anyway. If you're this loud in a library at least make sure you know what you're saying, first.”

James’s mouth twisted. Lily often corrected him like this, and from what Peter could tell, his friend hadn't yet adjusted to being contested so openly. Everyone had always gone along with James in school, he was a ringleader of sorts. Lily’s attitude was new.

“I do too know what I'm saying! All I meant was that it could’ve been-”

She cut him off without so much as a glance, turning to Claudia instead. “It isn't a bear, anyway. Otherwise he could've been healed with magic. Only a magical creature could leave lasting damage like that, where even a Healer can't fix it.”

“Who says he's got access to a Healer,” James butted back in. “Maybe he's muggleborn.”

“He's not,” Peter muttered. He'd come here in an attempt to get some reading done, but Lily had wanted to come with so James had tagged along and he'd seen Claudia sitting alone. She was in a few joint classes with the Gryffindors. He hadn't thought she'd mind them joining, but he hadn't anticipated Lupin walking past and inciting anew discussion over his injuries.

Peter didn't mind the distraction, of course. Anything to pull him away from the textbook. But he had a feeling Lily didn't share the sentiment, and he didn't want her angry with him.

He supposed she seemed interested enough just then. They'd been putting their heads together for ages, whenever Remus wasn’t around, trying to figure out where he'd gotten hurt like that. So far their only lead was a hopelessly long list of creatures, to which James was pointedly adding “doxy” underneath a scratched out “bear”. The only one of them who wasn’t invested, interestingly enough, was Sirius Black. He shut the topic down whenever asked for input, wouldn’t even let them debate amongst themselves in his presence. What was more interesting to Peter, though, was the look on his face on these occasions. It wasn’t the typical annoyance. Sirius seemed angry. Angry and scared.

He tried to bring it up once, hoping the Regulus-revelation over break might allow them to share civil conversation. He’d underestimated Sirius’s pride. Barely five words in Sirius was simply walking away, offering a glare back over his shoulder as the single point of consolation. That was a dead end.

Outside of this, classes went by as usual. Peter found only an increase in his admiration for Herbology, if not a noticeably advanced skillset… the worms of the first week hadn’t been the worst of it. By the time he’d broken his fifth jar of Heron Herring, Professor Sprout was just about ready to strangle him. She might’ve if the plants didn’t like him so much. He had special permission to visit the grounds after dark because the Niffler’s Fancy appeared to be developing sentience and Sprout blamed him. He’d done nothing, to clarify. Maybe there had been a minimal spill involving Amina Anima. He claimed no part. Sprout was just jealous it only responded to him now, clearly.

They’d stayed up late several nights after returning from break. Remus and Sirius were in lower spirits for reasons unknown (although Remus’s reasoning could very well have been written all over his face so-to-speak), but James was overflowing with energy, and despite Peter’s hesitance managed to drag them out with the promise of sweets. Peter mentioned he’d met some portraits who indicated the eighth floor but after being brushed off once he didn’t bother to try again. He kind of wanted to figure this out on his own. The only problem was that first-years never needed to visit obscure floors like the eighth. His classrooms were all either on ground-floor classrooms, outside in the greenhouses, or up in the Astronomy tower, and he didn’t feel the urge to be cornered and questioned by Peeves – or worse, Filch. The caretaker made his detest for the students known. Peter had never stepped out of line even in his old schools. He had zero experience being the target of such disgust, although James assured him it was a compliment.

That being said, James and Sirius had established a severe streak of troublemaking, so Peter supposed that was a sort of necessary philosophy.

“Look,” Lily snapped, and Peter startled out of his thoughts at the harsh snap of her book shutting. “If you’re so curious, just ask him.”

“He’ll punch me in the face-”

Lily smirked at James, and he shut up. “I’m counting on it.”

“James, how’s quidditch going?” Claudia broke in, sharing a brief look with Peter. James beamed instantly and turned away from his death-staring.

“Brilliant! It’s crazy to fly with a team, I’ve only ever done that a few times when I was on teams as a kid, and of course Dad brought me to games sometimes, and he knows some of the players so that was insane. McKinnon is brilliant too, did you see how she flies?”

“Hope it’s better than how she learns,” Lily muttered. Like Peter, she was less than pleased with her Defense pairing, especially because she’d initially been paired with Hemsworth, and that had been even worse. They’d nearly torn each other’s heads off the first lesson. Lily had been griping since then that this rearrangement was hardly better.

“I thought you two were improving since you traded beds?” Claudia tsked. “What about Mary?”

“Mary’s perfect,” Lily sighed. She set the book down flat on the table and rested her chin on top. James’s eyes followed her the whole way. “She doesn’t stand for any fighting, though, so we aren’t allowed to talk unless she’s absolutely sure there’s no underhanded insults in the words. She’s really good at the fire-catching spell. It makes our whole room smell afterwards.”

“Um. Sorry, she’s setting your room on fire?”

“And still I’m the only sensible person in there.” Mary dropped her books beside Lily’s on the desk, draping herself forward over her friend’s back and hiding her face in the redhead’s shoulder. “Where is Marlene, anyway? I miss her. Life’s been too boring lately.”

“With you around?” Lily mumbled, muffled by the way Mary’s weight pressed her face into the textbook. “Get off me, will you?”

“But you’re comfortable,” Mary whined, and then flopped down in the chair beside Peter, curls bouncing. “Where’s Sirius anyway?”

He looked over to her, incredulous, only to see her waiting expectantly for an answer from James, and yeah, that made more sense. She caught his mistake, though, and giggled. For someone who didn’t like drama she sure was amused by the barest hint of it. Thankfully, James answered before she could say anything to embarrass him further.

“Detention.”

“Wh- HOW?!”

“Mary, shut up!”

“Pince doesn’t care if we’re loud, Lily, this is – how did he get detention again?! I thought you lot finished serving the paint one!”

“And I didn’t even do anything,” Peter grumbled into his notes. He made a spelling correction, glaring at how the ink blotted. “Just because you tested the balloons in our dorms. My sheets are green, still.”

“We had to test them out, Pete-”

“Yeah, and they didn’t work, so you didn’t need to use them for a prank!”

“Oh, no, that was what they were supposed to do.”

Peter gaped at his best friend. James grinned back. Across the table, Claudia remarked, “Slytherin green?”

“Lime,” he deadpanned, and she winced.

“That’s just gross.”

“See?” Peter demanded, thrusting an arm out towards her and looking at James with accusation tugging hard at his eyebrows. “Why’d you want them to explode?!”

“We were getting revenge on Snape! Defending your honor, really.”

“Again?!” Lily was done now, and she stood, shoving her chair back so hard Mary had to lean over and catch it before it fell. “You selfish knobhead! What has he ever done to you?”

“Don’t answer that,” Peter warned: Lily was already snatching up her things and stomping away, and besides, James wasn’t really defending Peter. If he was, surely Sirius wouldn’t participate. It just wouldn’t be “on brand”. James rolled his eyes and stood – going after Lily, ill-advisably, but Peter had stopped attempting by now. James was the definition of a man on a mission in everything he did, and spoiled in a way Peter would never dream to point out. Sirius was a good match for him, in the end.

With the two interesting figures of the group gone, Mary begged off soon enough, leaving Peter to study silently with Claudia. They spoke rarely outside of casually traded questions, and he wished he could be more confident in his answers. He shoved it from his mind and focused on his work. It had been a month since they’d gotten back from break, give or take a few days, and he was already looking forward to the next one. People were exhausting.

He told as much to the Niffler’s Delight later, grinning despite himself and his rant as it shook its shiny leaves at him. He finished applying fertilizer – if he added a dash of Amina to ensure he stayed the plant’s favorite, that was between them two – and was about to turn and head back into the dark when he caught sight of the other plants in the strain, huddled together, bleached near matte. Their leaves hung lifeless on brittle branches. It was unnerving, and he looked from them to the plant preening before him, then back down at the jar of Amina Anima clutched in his palms. He glanced once more at his gleaming friend.

“I shouldn’t.”

It waggled its leaves at him. He wrinkled his nose back. “Well, that’s hardly helpful.”

Branches lifted in what he could’ve sworn was a shrug. Great. The plant was now not only sentient, but snarky. Was it bad that he almost felt like a proud parent? Probably, he figured, making his way over to the rest of the plants and sprinkling in the powder. Nothing happened, so he watered them a bit and left it to soak. Hopefully, he could convince Sprout he had nothing to do with it in the morning. Maybe he’d tell James about how Snape had shoved him up against a wall the other day, send him to cause a big enough ruckus to distract attention from Peter’s misdeeds. If James pulled a greenhouse prank, maybe Sprout would forgo any detention for Peter at all. Most of the professors didn’t make much connection between them, Sprout wouldn’t have to know Peter was involved.

He left the greenhouses locked, as instructed, slipping the key into his pocket to return to Sprout the next day in class. He’d only just started onto the path back to the castle when he heard it.

Voices, cutting through the darkness.

“...still do not see what this has to do with us.”

“We occupy the same grounds. That school-”

“The school does not bother us so long as the students do not. The new generations are soft; do not mistake mine to be. We do not tolerate intruders, Dumbledore knows this. You would do well to be equally emphatic.”

“Forgive me for not leaping at the opportunity to end the lives of curious children.”

“Forgive yourself, if you must.” The thump-thump impact of hooves, and Peter, belatedly, dropped to the ground so his head barely poked from the tall grass surrounding the path. The greenhouses were too close to the Forest, he’d always found it nerve wracking, but had managed to build a sort of desensitization for how often he visited. That was all gone now. A centaur, he thought to himself, resisting the maniacal urge to poke out his head and get a look at a creature he never thought he’d get the chance to see in person ever. Its accent was so clipped, words coming quick and enunciated and dropping to the soil like chiseled insults. And talking to it was… something else? A voice so raspy he could hardly parse the words.

“We are not finished here, Celous.”

“If you do not remove that hand, I will break it.”

A huff of frustration, the rustling of grass. Peter held his breath.

“I will take my leave now. Do not presume to extend any further invitations to this place; you may be unable to enter the forest, but my kind are not welcome on direct castle ground. I will not return to have the same discussion with you, again-"

“The Veela are coming.”

Peter choked into the dirt. The centaur’s sentence cut off. A thick silence spread, and Peter was sure they’d heard him, were going to kill him, he was going to die from being curious and all he’d wanted to do was help a stupid plant-

“Unpleasant.”

“Vengeful spirits are, typically.”

“You recognize we have played no part in your oppression.”

“Was I blaming you, centaur?”

A harsh intake of breath. Then, more slowly, careful in a way the centaur’s deep voice had not been before: “I will return in a fortnight. If you are not present to meet, know that it is not only my kind who take issue with that breed. You would do well to avoid Dumbledore’s wrath.”

“Of course. I only learn from the bravest.”

Peter’s fist clenched at his side as the centaur snapped, “Watch yourself. You have none of the oceanic powers.”

“Delightful.” Where the rasp had begun frustrated, it now dripped smugness, like it had played a card not knowing where it’d lead and was extremely satisfied with the results. Peter supposed, from the way the centaur had immediately caved, there was reason to be. But… oceanic powers? Couldn't the centaur’s visitor breathe, walk, talk aboveland?

He didn’t find out. The wind shifted, and suddenly both creatures were off, the centaur galloping with abandon towards the forest, the other figure – too dark to make out in the pale moonlight, although Peter watched as two legs fought their way through a heavily skewed limp – bolting down the hill, towards the Great Lake. His head whipped back and forth, trying to sense what they had, but he assumed they possessed senses he had no chance of matching as a human. He wondered for a moment whether his plants could smell him, or were just sensing his presence.

Not your plants. Pull yourself together and get back to the tower, before you actually get discovered.

I have a professor’s permission, he argued with himself, but went anyway, because dammit he was sensible and that meeting had not sounded safe for him to be witnessing. Still, the centaur had been cool… alright, the centaur had been wicked. He was wondering if he could get away with telling the night’s story to his roommates when he pushed open the door to his room and was instantly pounced on by James and Sirius.

“Have you seen him?”

“Where is he?”

“What,” Peter gasped, horrified at the way his heart had nearly burst from his chest. He clutched his skin, slumped against the doorframe. If Sirius hadn’t grabbed the wood in time it would’ve slammed shut across his face. “What the heck?”

“Language,” James demanded, outraged. Peter glared back at him.

“Warn a guy, will you?”

“Are you not with Remus?” Sirius pushed, rather than answer. He was standing on his toes to look over Peter’s shoulder. “Damn. He’s still out?”

“We thought you lot were pranking together,” James accused, as though that was the height of treachery. Maybe for James, it was. Peter wondered whether he even saw the hypocrisy. “He wasn’t with you? Where were you?”

He kicked off his shoes. No shower tonight, he was tired. All he wanted to do was sleep off whatever those two were on, he wasn’t in the mood anymore. “Went to feed the plants. Saw a centaur.”

“Since when do you-”

“You saw a centaur?!”

“-feed the plants, isn’t – wait, a CENTAUR?!”

“Sleeping,” Peter insisted, wiping the dirt off his face belatedly using his shirtsleeve and hunting around in the covers for his pajamas. “Not now.”

“I thought the centaurs can’t leave the forest?” Sirius insisted. Peter shrugged, mostly to himself.

“I don’t think centaurs can’t do anything. This one just sounded like they’re doing it out of courtesy to Dumbledore.”

“But it's a truce, right? They need the land from Dumbledore.”

“Why should he own the land, though?” James sounded skeptical, as though he wasn't singing Dumbledore’s praises every other day of the week. Peter supposed even Dumbledore had to make room on the stage for a centaur to stand front and center. “They could drive us out if they wanted to.”

“They can't,” Sirius shook his head. “Property charms are usually fairly strict. Dumbledore’s Headmaster, he owns this land. If he doesn't want someone here, they won't last long, even an entire herd of centaur. Besides, centaurs are old. They're not going to attack a bunch of kids just for some land.”

Peter had to speak, if only to proceed his mission to systematically discount every point Sirius made in any given conversation. “They sounded pretty open to it, actually. That they'd killed students before, ones who got too curious.”

He looked up from where he'd snatched his shirt out from under his pillow. The other boys were staring at him in shock. “I don't know who, I just heard one of them talking. Look, I’m sure that if it was really a problem, Dumbledore would have done something about it. He’s not going to let them go around just murdering Hogwarts students left and right. People would notice, if nothing else.”

“We noticed,” James pointed out, voice uncharacteristically quiet. He shrank under the attention of the room and gestured with open palms, as if to say, look around. “Remus isn’t here.”

Peter’s stomach dropped through the ensuing silence like a stone. He was speaking before he could stop himself. “You can’t think-”

“What exactly did they say?” Sirius hissed. Peter sat up in bed. “Word for word, Peter.”

“I – I don’t – I didn’t hear much, right, and I don’t even know what the centaur was talking to. He said something about ocean powers, but it didn’t sound like the man could have them-”

“It was a man?” Sirius interrupted. Peter nodded.

“I think so. Or at least a male of whatever species it was. Its voice was really raspy, and it didn’t seem to like the school too much, but the centaur said they have an agreement with Dumbledore that neither of them trespasses. He told the other man that if he didn’t want kids coming into his space, he should be as harsh as they were, and that’s when the other man said he wasn’t into killing students. But there's no way. Centaurs didn't give Remus those scars.”

Sirius flinched. Peter’s eyes narrowed. “Black. Do you know who hurt him?”

“No,” Sirius spat, turning away, but Peter wasn't believing it for a second – the boy wouldn't look at either of them. James took a step forward, and Sirius’s body lurched again.

“Sirius?”

James's voice was more confused than anything. Peter bit his lip as he watched Sirius squirm under its open question. He took pity on his roommate pathetically quickly.

“The telescopes on the Astronomy Tower could maybe see into the Forest. If he's there, we might spot him, or at least the centaurs.”

“As if they haven't taken precautions against that,” Sirius scoffed, and Peter huffed. Never helping you out again, ungrateful little-

“Got a better idea?”

Well, well, isn't James just full of surprises tonight.