October 1981. Losing a part of his soul. He remembers it clearly. He wishes he wouldn't. The months before were hard, countless hours spent with meaningless arguments. He hates thinking about it now. He knew they didn't trust him, he made sure of that, spending all his days on the missions the headmaster sent him on. With strange packs, under strange moons. It made sense, to believe he was the traitor. Sometimes, he himself believed it, believes it. He broke them apart, killed James, killed Lily, killed Peter. Maybe it wasn't S Maybe it wasn't padfoot.
He can't afford to think like that, the moon is coming up, he needs to concentrate. He's got orders. Many packs are still restless, thinking somebody's out to get them. They're not wrong, probably. He still thinks Greyback is lurking behind him, waiting for a chance, sometimes.
And yet, in October 1981, it isn't one family ripped apart at the seams. Maybe, just maybe, it is two,a married couple with a newborn son and young lovers, 21 years old both, one now in jail and one here, living surviving. Could they still be considered a family then or just two men boys, a relationship built on lies, on betrayal, on distance.
And yet.
And yet.
In October 1981, two families get ripped apart. He knows that now. Remus Lupin is the traitor, they thought before it happened, even his family. Even Lily, even James, even Sirius . Sirius Black is the traitor they say, thinking they know everything, thinking they have a right to assume because of someone's last name. But he knows better now. Now, June 1994. Peter Pettigrew is the traitor. Peter killed Lily, killed James, made Harry an orphan, got Sirius locked up in Azkaban. Peter Pettigrew is the traitor.
Peter Pettigrew is the traitor.
Peter Pettigrew is the traitor.