This Beautiful Mess

1977, January 20th

“What would you wish for, Wormy? If you could have anything in the world?” James Potter asked his friend.

“For us four to stay Marauders forever,” came the answer.

1981, October 31st

Peter Pettigrew stood outside a small unnoticeable cottage in the village of Godric's Hollow. It was very much more than true that the cottage was unnoticable, the Muggles that were walking past didn’t seem to see the building, their eyes slid over it like it wasn’t even there.

Peter fiddled with his fingers nervously, eyeing the sky and the house. Suddenly, a dark shape emerged from the darkness of the night and swept down next to Peter. The shape grew into a tall hooded figure.

“This is it, Peter?” a hissing voice asked from inside the hood.

“Y-yes, my lord.”

“Why so nervous?”

“Not- not nervous, my Lord, just… anticipating.”

The person threw back his hood to reveal a pale, ghostly white balding head with blood red eyes and slits for a nose. Lord Voldemort drew out his wand from his cloak, a long, thin white tool he had performed heinous crimes with. Things that could make your blood curdle.

“Wait here, Wormtail, then we shall see… yess… we shall.”

“Of course, my lord.”

Peter turned away from the house, he looked terrified but didn’t seem to be doubting his choices. Dumbledore’s people were failing. The war would end and Peter… he would be safe. His safety was assured the moment that he told the Dark Lord the location of the Potter’s house. He was going to be ok.

The door opened, there was a muffled cry and footsteps, “Lily, take Harry and go! It's him! Go! Run! I'll hold him off--"

There came the sounds of someone stumbling from a room– a door bursting open– a cackle of high pitched laughter.

“ Avada kedavra !” there was a flash of green light and the sound of someone crumpling to the ground.

James.

I did what I had to, Peter reassured himself. I will be safe .

There was a heart wrenching scream of a woman and for a moment, Peter wanted to run- into the house? Away? No. Just run.

There was a great clamour, voices, high and pleading then another flash of green light.

Lily .

There was a cold, high laugh. His master was going to finish it, Harry was going to die next.

Green light streaked the air and the cries of a spell, but the screams that followed it were not one of a small child. Those screams were of a grown man, in agony. Of the Dark Lord, dying and turning to dust.

Finally Peter did what he really wanted to. He transformed into a small brown rat and ran as fast as his legs would carry him.

1973, November 16th

Peter walked through the Charms corridor, navigating his way from Charms to the library where he planned on spending his free period with Kingsley and Remus. Sirius and James would have been walking with him but they were held back by Professor Flitwick - they had been attempting to levitate his hat during the lesson and were now being told the conditions of their detention.

The lack of friends made Peter feel smaller than he normally was and well, more exposed. A group of students walked past.

“Well, look who it is!” someone jeered. It was a group of Slytherins led by Amycus and Alecto, both of them squat and as ugly as each other, “Pettigrew.”

Peter stopped in his tracks, he pulled out his wand just as they did. He counted six of them. The two Carrows, a sneering Snape and others.

“Come on. Try something.” Amycus taunted.

Peter opened his mouth to curse them.

“ Expelliarmus !” Snape cried and Peter's wand flew out of his hand and was caught by someone else.

“No one to hide behind, Pettigrew. Nowhere to run.”

But Peter tried. He ran as fast as he could, tearing down the corridor. They laughed and gave him a few seconds head start before following.

They caught up to him quickly. Peter punched Amycus in the jaw who cried and grabbed him.

“Here's the best thing about toying with you, Pettigrew.” Amycus hissed in his ear as he dragged him, aided by two others, “We don’t need magic to fight you, you’re no good at it anyways and it's no fun. But even fighting as muggles, we best you. Do you know why?”

Peter thrashed, “Let me go!” He squeaked.

“Because you’re the weakest of the bunch. A pathetic excuse for a pureblood. You may as well be a Squib or worse, a muggle.”

They dragged him into the bathrooms and grabbed a fistful of his hair.

“Thirsty, Peter?” Alecto smirked and she and her brother forced his face into the toilet bowl water.

They held him there for a long time.

“Pete! We thought you lost your way!” Remus said as Peter stumbled into a chair next to him, dripping water all over the library floor. “Hey, why do you smell like the… bathrooms?”

Peter glared in the direction of the door, “It was the Slytherins. They… shoved my head into a toilet bowl.”

Remus grimaced, waved his wand and whispered something. The smell and moisture from Peter’s robes vanished.

“Better?”

“Yeah. A little, thanks Remus.”

Even though his clothes were dry again and he was now warm, Peter still felt cold, very cold. The one thing that the spell failed to warm was his heart.

1982, January 1st

Peter quite liked the garden. It provided some solitude and access to the rubbish bins But of course, this family were Muggles and mouse traps were everywhere. They were increasing now that the Muggles had seen him once. It was time to move.

Peter needed to be somewhere where a wizarding family was. He needed news of the War. Did it end? Was his master really dead?

Peter slipped through the hole in the fence gate and ran off down the street, sticking to the edges of the fences, sniffing for a trace of magic or the sound of familiar voices. His sniffing around brought him to the edge of the town where there was a long winding road and a thinned out forest. Something drew him to scurry through the forest and up the winding road. The moon illuminated the path just barely until he got out the other side and was faced by several pattocks and the strangest house he had ever seen. It was lopsided and had rooms stuck here and there, teetering on the edge. It had to be held up by magic, surely. Peter found the bins and nibbled on some stale bread while rummaging around for a newspaper. He unearthed a copy of The Daily Prophet, a definite marker of a wizarding family. He decided to hang around here.

The newspaper edition read ‘October 31st’, the headline said ‘The Dark Lord - Dead at Last’. He was dead. He was really dead. Peter skimmed the rest of the paper, eager to read more but the page was torn out. He rummaged through the rest of the bin and ate whatever he could find. Whoevers was cooking the food knew what they were doing. It was good, even if it was a bit stale or mouldy.

Peter crawled out of the bin and found a shallow dip near a fence. He slept, dreaming of green flashes and screams.

When he awoke the next day, he poked around a bit and found a small orchard where fruit trees were laden down with their bearings. He ate his way through an apple until he was suddenly aware of the sound of footsteps. He hid in the loop of a tree root and watched as a child carrying a basket wandered past. The child was a boy with glasses and red hair. A Weasley.

The child plucked apples off a tree and then turned to the one that Peter was hiding under. The Weasley child grasped onto an apple and tugged, but the apple would not let go and stayed firmly to the branch. The child tugged more until he slipped and fell on the ground, knocking his glasses askew.

He huffed and puffed, talking to himself and felt around for his glasses. He accidently brushed past Peter and instantly recoiled.

“What was that?!”

The kid found his glasses and jammed them on.

“A rat!”

He looked closer at Peter who, for the life of him, would not move. He realised how large the kid was in proportion to him. This kid could squash him if he wanted. Peter froze up.

“Hello… you look really sad. Poor rat, you’re really thin.” The kid glanced around, checking for someone. “My mum hates rats… but maybe she’ll make an exception because you’re lonely.”

Then a voice rang out across the orchard, “Percy! Where are those apples? They’ll be here any moment!”

The kid, Percy replied, “Coming!” He turned his attention back to the rat, “Come on, I’ll bring you inside. We’re having some guests over. Uncle Sirius and Uncle Remus–”

Peter panicked, adrenaline flooding his whole body. Sirius. Remus. Sweet Merlin, what was he thinking?! The Weasley’s were a part of the Order! They would know! They knew! They were coming! This kid was going to kill him! 

Peter shot out from under the tree. He raced past the kid who yelled, “Hey! Rat! Come back!” But Peter wasn’t listening, he was just running, the only thing he seemed to be good at.

1973, December 24th

Like usual, James, Remus, Sirius and Peter stayed behind at Hogwarts during the Christmas period. This year, in order to make it like they had coincidentally had all decided to stay behind Remus lied about needing the library to finish his homework, James said that his parents were overseas in Scotland visiting family and Peter simply said that the Christmas feasts at Hogwarts were better than at home.

“We’re all staying so Sirius doesn’t have to go home to his god-awful family.” Remus explained even though they all knew already.

“But we have to make it unintentional.” James reminded them, “Otherwise he’ll feel weird.”

This Christmas was probably the busiest one yet. Other people in Gryffindor had decided to stay behind so the common room was unusually busy for this time of year and the festive spirits were at an all time high. On the days leading up to Christmas, James had taken to attempting to ask Lily Evans out again and Sirius doing nothing but egging him on. Remus had made good friends with Dorcas Meadowes and was regularly chatting with her in their own little corner. Peter felt like an observer again, pulling out his chess set on more than one occasion to try to tempt someone to play with him. It had worked a few times but no one was as good as he was so the games never lasted long.

On Christmas eve, Gryfindor common room the party was the wildest yet. Someone had smuggled in a pack of Butterbeers and Sirius had unearthed his secret bottle of Firewhiskey from the bottom of his trunk. Sirius and Remus had gotten into a row about it but Sirius had won, pouring everyone shots.

“Give me one, Sirius.” Peter asked.

“You sure, Petey? It's pretty strong.”

“Yeah, I’m sure.”

Peter had downed the shot and had lied that it had tasted great but had vomited it back out when he had a chance to sneak off. The alcohol was gross but Sirius had taken at least three shots and was still standing steady, although quite red.

By 10, the room was cast in firelight and James was drunkenly singing ‘Silent Night’ to a giggling crowd. Someone said that Sirius had snuck off somewhere with somebody and Remus had retreated back into the dorm room, supposedly with Dorcas although this couldn’t be true as Peter had seen Dorcas run off with Marlene a minute earlier.

He was watching again, from a comfortable armchair closest to the fire and yet furthest away from the action. He watched Sirius return to the room, though from down the stairs of their dorm and not the door he had left by and was immediately swarmed by James and a tipsy Lily who had urged him to tell them who he had run off with.

Peter wished people had cared that much about his love life but in truth, there wasn’t much to care about.

He watched as his friends partied on as he got more sober and somehow sadder. Christmas eve was about friends last year and now it only seemed to be about attention. Peter wished he was there in the spotlight with them, just as brave as them, just as fun and wanted. He wished he was as daring as they were. The clock rang midnight and Peter was still alone.

1982, January 1st

Peter lay in a ditch in a forest, panting, out of breath. He had run several miles and had dodged not only a small child but also a hunting dog, a fox and a large, hungry bird. He wished he could find a pack of other rats that would keep him safe.

He snoozed for a while, with one eye open, his ears ever listening. Then came the sounds, voices Peter had not heard in a while and never wanted to hear again.

“Search everywhere!” Remus cried, “This is our only chance!”

“Let's go, Sirius!” Came another male voice, the voice of Arthur Weasley.

They were searching the woods. Peter was a dead rat.

Then he heard the sounds that really sent chills down his spine. The panting and growling of a dog. Padfoot was on the hunt.

“Sirius- we’re arresting him, remember? Not killing.” 

The only reply was a bark.

Peter leapt up and scurried through the woods. He ran through brambles and holes in rotting logs. He kept running and running, he needed to get out- he need to get–

SNAP!

Peter yelped in pain. He had trod on a muggle bear trap. The iron jaw had clamped his tail and one of his fingers. He squeaked in pain, panting and tugging at his tail and paw. He needed to get out– he needed to leave- he- he-

“Over here! I’ve got him!” Arthur cried, coming up through the bushes behind Peter.

A black dog raced through the forest and came to a panting halt in front of Peter. The dog transformed. Sirius Black stared at Wormtail, death in his eyes.

“Do you know what you did?” Sirius breathed, a growl in his voice. His wand is out. Peter squeaks, blood oozes from his paw and tail.

“Remus! Get the ministry!” Arthur cried and stepped towards Sirius. Sirius doesn’t notice him. All his focus is on the rat in front of him.

Sirius blasted the jaws of the trap open and Peter sprang free. He tried to run for it.

“ Accio! ” Sirius roared. The rat soars into his hand.

Peter squirmed, biting Sirius’ finger. The man doesn’t flinch, he just squeezes the rat like he wants to crush it.

Remus appears from the right, flanked by two Ministry Aurors.

Sirius still stared at the rat in his hand, wriggling, biting and scratching. Sirius wouldn’t let go. The rat keeps trying to escape. Remus stared at the rat with the deepest loathing in his eyes. Peter wants to shrink. He wants to disappear. He wants to run.

There was a flash of light and Peter transformed, almost as rat-like in human form as he is in animal form.

Thin, shining cords whip out of the wands of the Aurors. They bind Peter tightly but do not gag him.

“S-Sirius… R-Remus…” his voice is squeaky and hoarse from unuse, “My friends… my dear friends…”

“We are your friends no longer, Peter.” Remus said with cold fury in his eyes, “The minute you turned your loyalty, you were a traitor and not a friend.”

“Peter.” Sirius says, he was shaking with rage and his eyes glistened, “You sold Lily and James to Voldemort. Do you deny it?”

Pettigrew burst into tears. It was horrible to watch: he looked like an oversized, balding baby, cowering on the forest floor.

“Sirius, Sirius, what could I have done? The Dark Lord… you have no idea… he has weapons you can’t imagine… I was so scared, Sirius, I was never brave like you and Remus and james. I never meant it to happen… He Who Must Not Be named forced me–”

“DON’T LIE!” Bellowed Sirius, “YOU’D BEEN PASSING INFORMATION TO HIM FOR A YEAR BEFORE LILY AND JAMES DIED! YOU WERE HIS SPY!”

“He– he was taking over everywhere!” gasped Peter. ‘Wh-what was there to be gained by refusing him?”

“What was there to be gained by fighting the most evil wizard who has ever existed?” said Sirius, with a terrible fury in his face, “Only innocent lives, Peter!”

“You don’t understand!” whined Peter, ‘He would have killed me, Sirius!”

“THEN YOU SHOULD HAVE DIED!” Roared Sirius, “DIED RATHER THAN BETRAY YOUR FRIENDS, AS WE WOULD HAVE DONE FOR YOU!”

Remus stepped forward, shoulder to shoulder with Sirius, wands raised.

“You should have realised,” Remus said quietly, “If Voldemort didn’t kill you, we would…”

“Gentleman,” Arthur says with authority. “He needs to be tried.”

“This bastard doesn’t deserve that after what he did!” Sirius yelled. 

Remus looked to Arthur. The Aurors look back to him. He slowly lowered his wand just a slight amount.

Sirius turned to him, “Remus.”

“Sirius. We… we can’t.”

“I thought you of all people would agree with me !”

“I do! I do, believe me!” His voice is earnest, he's as angry as his partner, “But if he's not tried he's still innocent. On a technicality.” Remus hissed in anger. “And you would be arrested tonight, not him.”

Sirius looks back to Peter.

“Sirius, please.” Remus’ voice rose in pitch, “I– we can’t lose you tonight. The kids- Iris- she's- your her guardian. I’m not blood. You can’t kill Peter. He must pay another way.”

Sirius points the wand at the rat. His eyes slip to Remus’ who has an angry and distraught expression. He lowers the wand and one of the Aurors magically gag Peter who tumbles to the ground.

“We’ll take it from here.” one of them said, “You three will be asked to attend his trial in two weeks. We’ll send an owl.”

Sirius nodded jerkily like he wanted nothing more than to run and rage at the rat-like man in front of him.

Peter stifled a whimper of pain as he's bound and gagged on the floor. One finger on the right was gone, a bleeding stump in its place.

Shortly after, Peter was thrown unceremoniously into a cell. The cold walls and floor made him cringe and wince. His whole body ached in pain. The dementors hung around his cell, draining his energy and will to fight. He felt himself slip into sleep, restless and uncomforting.

A dream floated in front of Peter’s mind as he slept. He was several years younger surrounded by his friends on the lawn in front of the lake.

“What would you wish for, Wormy? If you could have anything in the world?”

This time, Peter answered truthfully, “To be as strong as you, James. To be as good as you were.”