For you, my brightest star

30/06/1979

POV – PETER PETTIGREW

“Peter Oliver Pettigrew!” When your girlfriend middle names you, you better sit up straight, uncaring of how pathetic you must look with your hair dishevelled, mussed up cloths and half sleepy state.

“9 days! It has been 9 days, since you have been camping here in my room.”  She reproaches when Peter finally looks at her face, not meeting her eyes still. Unable to. In the fear of what he might find in there. Disgust? Anger? Aversion?

Better if he doesn’t know.

“I have had enough, Peter.” She shouts at him this time, proper with raised volume and anguished voice.

Peter’s entire body stiffens.

Despite staying at her home, in her room, on the same bed even, Dorcas allowed him the space, not making him talk, until he was ready.

But the thing is that he isn’t ready. Doesn’t think he ever will be. His half-hearted attempt to talk with James and Sirius were just that. If he really wanted, he would have made them sit and talk.

But that’s the thing, he was just making lackadaisical efforts to make it look like he is doing something, so that he won’t feel bad when he lays with Dorcas at night. So, that he can lie to her, and himself, that he is trying sorting things out but his friends are busy.

The wonderful person that she is, she never pushes him or tells him off on his face for lies which fooled no one.

But it seems that his girlfreind, the person who helped him uncover a part of himself he loves, also has her limit.

Of course, the person he has become after that traumatising day, even Peter hates that person, so why would Dorcas stay with this guy?

She sits on the bed by his side, their shoulders brushing, making him shiver a bit, he has been avoiding human touch from last few days, just this gentle brush making him feel strange. Not in a bad way but not in a good way too.

“Your mind is trying to scare you.” She says quietly. Placing a hand on his shoulder, she urges him to look at her, “It’s lying to you.”

Her gentle word and knowing tone coax him to look. Really look.

And yes. She knows him, sometimes even better than he knows himself.

For there is nothing but utmost care and tender love in her soft brown eyes. She nods her head. As if telling him that now his brain is telling him the right thing.

“You know, there is no point in us all behaving as if the war is not going to affect us, as if we have some divine luck or super power that differentiates us from people like Mary or Caradoc. Thinking that we will remain unfazed by this war just because we are fighting for the right reason, its plain stupid.”

Peter’s heart clenches. Because this is what he has been telling himself, naievely, that other people may die but he and his people are going to come out the other end of this fucking war unscathed.

The encounter with those death eaters, it weighs heavy on his heart. Confronting the truth that his weakness could so easily become someone else’s strength. Acknowledging that efforts of so many people could be rendered useless by just one person.

Which could have been him. Very easily. Maybe in some other life he would have but in this one, he refuses to become a pawn for someone at whose hands his loved ones lose this war.

Nodding his head, he lets her know that he is listening, that as always, she is right.

“We will be hurt. We will be scarred. We will change in all ways a person can change and become unrecognizable.” Her voice hard, with a conviction she says, “We may have become a part of this war to bring change. We may have been stupid enough for not realising the sacrifices we will be asked to make to win for the witches and wizards to come.”

Taking both his hands in hers, an iron grip, looking him right in the eyes, face set in determination, “But what is important is that we don’t lose ourself. That we don’t loose the part of us that we love the most.”

Taking his hands back, “Dorcas….” He stops, his mouth opening and closing, but his brain is blank all of a sudden.

He has been fearing, like a short-sighted fool, that she is going to break up with him for being so dull and depressing. Instead, he should have feared this. His girlfriend implicating that Peter must fight back the urge to give up. Fight back that part of his brain that tells him that the best solution is to do as those black wearing evil people are asking him to.

Because she is not wrong.

He has thought again and again and the decision that seems most doable has been to just go be the fucking spy.

Not that any of it is feasible now. Four people from the Order, his girlfriend and 3 close friends, are gonna keep an eye on him to make sure he is not doing anything stupid now that they know.

Later if asked why he chose not to give up and be the spy he will say that it was because of his love for Dorcas, teachings of his mother, support of his friends that helped him make the right decision.

But it will be a big fat lie. Cause he knows that despite all this, his anxious mind would have made him believe that he is doing best for everyone by agreeing to be the spy.

No. The reason he will not become the spy, ever, even if it was feasible somehow, is because green eyes filled with accusation and loathing never leave him alone. Not ever. They condemn him with harsh words again and again repeating, a non-stop echo of –

‘Choose very carefully, Peter. But one wrong choice and life as you know it will be over.’  

And – ‘Rats do know when it is time to leave a sinking ship after all, eh Wormtail?’

And – ‘Run away if it is getting too much. Come back when things are better.’

Again and again all these words bounce back in his head.

With tears filled eyes, he looks at her face, blurry still beautiful as ever, “I am not gonna do it, Casey. I promise.” His shoulder sagging in relief as soon as he promises. To her and to himself. To the Peter he has become with her.

She engulfs him in her warm embrace, “I know, baby. I know.”

They both cry. For long time, sitting there, in the safety of each other’s’ embrace.

Peter feels at peace here.

“You need to get your act together, Pete.” She whispers quietly. And because it is Dorcas, soft lessons will always be accompanied by a silent complaint, “This is not the guy I fell for. Bring him back.”

Peter lets out a watery chuckle and nods his head.

He will do something. He just needs one more night. Tomorrow he will do something, he promises himself.

***********************************************************************************************************

01/07/1979

Checking himself in the mirror, he feels conscious for some reason.

Staying locked in the same room, for so many days, has made him even more anxious about going out and actually doing something.

It is like being stuck in an endless loop you don’t know how to end. Not going out feels depressing. But then going out feels stressful.

Taking a breath through his nose and exhaling through his mouth. He reminds himself of the promise he has made to Dorcy last night. She will hate him if he didn’t change.

In the shared kitchen, Marls is eating an apple at the counter with one hand and searching for something in her handbag with the other.

“Hey!” Peter says, a little less enthusiastically as the peter from before the attack would have been, but at least his voice didn’t crack. Small victories.

“O hey there yourself! Youngman. Happy to see you this morning.” Marlene greats him with a kiss on his cheek. As if they are meeting in a long time.

He realises that despite staying at her place, Peter hasn’t been present. And they might as well be meeting in a long time.

Peter offers her a small smile, “Searching for something?” he asks, pointing at her bag.

“Oh yes.” She once again puts her arm in the bag, it almost going as deep as her upper arm, the bag must be charmed. “I can’t find my wand!”

Peter bites his lip to hide his smile, not that she is paying attention with how she is peeking inside her bag.

“Why don’t you accio it?” Peter asks, trying very hard not to laugh. Realising he really missed having encounters like these with Marls.

“No! I have made a bet with Dorcas.” She says stubbornly.

Peter gives her a look, “Bet to not use magic?” Seems redundant and downright stupid to Peter when they are fighting in a bloody war.

“No silly.” She rolls her eyes, “to not use magic when not necessary. Like how muggles do things with hands. Use their mind rather than just using magic as an invisible servant.”

Peter nods. Finally getting it.

Dorcas is particularly verbal about how lazy, she thinks, the purebloods are. And how the constant use of magic makes their life so boring, which in turn causes people to revert to muggle baiting for entertainment. 

Another of her theory is that as they say -empty mind devil's house, one should resort to magic as less as possible. To keep making use of mind, so as to not leave brain unattended for too long.

Finally, pitying on the poor witch, Peter steps ahead and takes her wand struck behind her ear and hands it to her.

She looks so happy at this as she lays another kiss, this time on his other cheek, in gratitude. Then placing a hand on her hip, she asks, “You do know that I do these silly things at home only, right?”

“I should hope so.” Peter replies gravely. Forgetting where you kept your wand is a sure shot way of getting killed.

“He is back.” She says blandly at Peter’s sudden serious reply. “The killjoy!”

Peter lets out an unexpected snort. Despite this being a direct barb at his depressed and downer state. She smiles at seeing him take it as a joke as she meant it.

“Going back to your place?” she asks. Peter hears a hint of hope.

“Eager to send me back?” he asks in mock hurt.

“Of course. I miss my girl time with my best friend.”

“Well. I changed my mind then. I was about to leave but now I want to be part of this girls’ time too.”

“For that you will have to undergo a sex swap surgery then.” She replies seriously.

Looking at her incredulously at first, but then deciding to carry on, this is good, bantering with his girlfriend’s best friend. Dramatically he falls to his knees and joins his hand in a prayer gesture, “Oh great healer, Healer Marlene! Please turn me into a girl! I desperately want to attend this top-secret party.”

Marlene’s laughter rang out like a melody, bright and infectious. But in her exuberance, she leaned back too far, her laughter turning into a gasp as she lost her balance and tumbled to the floor, still chuckling in disbelief.

Just then Dorcas arrives from the common bathroom, a purple towel wrapped around her, water dripping from her hair. SHe looks absolutely breathtaking. Like a godess. Peter realises that despite spending most of his time with her, he didn't actually see her in all these days.

Raising her eyebrow and scrutinizing the view, she dismisses, “I don’t even want to know.”She gives Peter a private proud smile and heads to the bedroom to gets dressed.

The smile and the overall light mood don’t go unnoticed by Marlene as she gives him an approving nod.

Peter blusing from all the silent praises looks away, picks an apple and begins munching on it. Willing the redness on his face away.

“So,” she bites at her lip, “did you, by any chance, had a conversation with James?” she asks, but her tone and expression make it clear that she already knows the reply.

He shakes his head, “I can’t get a hold of either of my best friends.”

“That idiot.” Marlene mutters.

She takes out her pocket watch, muttering profanities when she sees the time, “I go’tta go! Tell bye to Casey from me.”

And with that she is gone.

Peter takes the alone time to recheck if he is really ready to do what he has planned.

Lost in his musing, he didn’t realise when Dorcas came out of her room, only blinking back to attention when he suddenly sees fingers snapping too close to his eyes.

“Peter” she says carefully, “I can come with you.” Her proposal is sweet but this is Peter’s mess and he has to clean it up alone.

He opens his mouth to tell her, but she cuts him off, “It’s no problem, Pete,” running a hand through his hair, she stands in front of him, “I can take a day off. I mean it.”

Peter smiles fondly at her. How she knows that he would need to be pressured into taking help. His habit of wanting to fight his battles alone is not hidden from her.

“I swear Casey, I will be fine.” Taking her hand in his, “It will be a big shock for her. But I need to stop keeping her in the dark.”

With a cute pout she still argues, “But I can help! With me present there, I am sure, she will supress her urge to hit you on the head for not only not telling her about the brutal and devastating war going on but also about you being part of a vigilante group to fight the bad guys.”

Peter winces. Closing his eyes and exhaling through his mouth, he quashes down the urge to retrieve back to his girlfriend’s room.

“She needs to know.” Dorcas’s quiet words coax him to open his eyes and face the reality. Peter presses his lips and nods his head.

“I have to do this alone.” He tells her, “I do deserve her ire. You do not need to be there to shield me from it.” Pressing soft kiss on the palm of both of her hands, he reassures her.

She gives a defeated sigh and nod. “Apparate there, directly.” She orders.

Peter feels conflicted emotion. So much love for her concern, fear for himself and everyone he loves, a brittle determination to take action. He was already going to apparate directly without her telling, not having any wish to have encounter with death eaters again. With nerves wrecking him, he does what he has to.

********************************************************************************************************************************

Explaining his secret life as a vigilante to an undercover group opposing a dark lord, is going to be difficult for Peter, he knew that.

For his mother passed through every emotion a human is capable of. The primary being anger but more surprisingly she was proud.

Peter didn’t even knew he was craving for his mother to tell him this but when she said- ”You are a good man, Pete’ With tears filled eyes, Peter felt some part inside him rest in peace forever.

His mother was never reserved in showering love. In babying Peter. She overdid herself in that department. Literally. Peter had been a pampered kid of a single mother even before his magic killed his father. But Pride? He loved seeing it in her blue eyes.

She also threw her slipper at him in frustration that he hid this big part of his life from her. Not only him but she was pissed at Dorcas too. Ordered him to bring her so that she can give her a piece of mind too.

When Peter, with shaking fingers, told her about the scariest day of his life, his mother was surprisingly calm and quiet. She didn’t show the fear she must have felt too. She remained strong when Peter narrated the details of his assault.

For some reason the recounting reminded him of the time he and his friends used to corner Snape. More because just like Snape, Peter is sure that if the opposite party didn’t have element of surprise and advantage of numbers, he would have had a surviving chance of winning. But in both their cases the odds were against them.

For some reason being reminded of Snape while accounting his own gruesome situation to his mother, Peter felt himself tear up.

His mum settled them on the settee and pulled Peter’s head on her lap, caressing his hair. Her beautiful blue eyes full of love and support. Never once did she show concern for her own life being at risk because of Peter’s decisions.

Instead, she began singing the lullaby she used to sing when he was a kid and Peter couldn’t sleep out of fear of what his father would do to his mother in Peter’s absence. Or when the mother son duo used to sit on the staircase near the garden gate of their home, waiting for Timothy to come home, drunk as always. Angry and bitter.

"Hush, little one, let me sing you to sleep

Moonlight has come, now, drift off to a dream

Sail from the day to the wonders awaiting you out there in the deep

Off little one, chase the wind on the waves
Adventure is calling, so go and be brave

But if you get lost as you're tossed in the dark of the sea
Look for meeeeeeeee"

Peter slept peacefully in the warmth of his childhood home. Surrounded by the blanket of safety and love only a mother could provide.

Once Sirius had told the other three that they should know how lucky they are. That not having that silent wall behind your back in the shape of your mum is truly devastating.

Peter, along with Remus and James had not understood the gravity of statement. Chalking it upto Sirius being Sirius but with a jerk in his heart he realises just now that he is really, truly grateful for having his mother. His first best friend ever. The best-est best friend he ever will have. How grounding it is to have this level of comfort and friendship with a parent.

But then he remembers how much of a no-show Sirius has been since the incident and all the charitable thoughts he felt towards his friend that moment simmered down.

He slept in his old bedroom that night.

Next day he left for an hour to reassure Dorcas that he really did get through with. He also went to the flat he shares with the guys and took James’s invisibility cloak, he would inform about it to James later. For now he needs more than anytime before.

Returning back, he stayed vigilant for the entire day outside his mother’s house. Taking an extra day to be sure of his plan. Knowing all too well that he has to be quick but it was a big deal the decision forming in his head.

When Dorcas had showed up later in the evening, Peter requested her to guard for a little while so that he can talk to his mother about his arrangements for her safety.

Plan was to send her to Aunt Mickky’s place for a year. His mother’s friend from factory. Peter hopes that the death eaters don’t know that much detail of Peter’s mother’s life. The shift has to be hidden without leaving any trail.

Making his mother ready for that proved to be easier but when he told her that they will have absolutely no contact, she went ballistic, crying for the first time in such a long time.

But Peter had no other option. The Potters’ offer was a substantial one but Peter is no freeloader. He can’t take advantage of those people’s generosity. No, they will have to do on their own.

And even more than his honour not allowing him to accept any help, his mother also said that she will be uncomfortable to be among wizards.

Understandable, it must be hurtful being near people who god deemed good enough for magic when she didn’t get to have that for no absolutely judicious reason other than bad luck. She never begrudged Peter for his magic, even loved him all the more for it being the reason her tormentor left them for good, but he got the exception for being her son.

Peter apparated his mother to Dorcas’s home for the night. And the next day he stayed on vigil when his mother called her friend and made arrangements. The plan was to apparate their directly when Mikkey was not at home so that no one could follow them and know his mother’s hiding place.

Peter was depending on idiotic Pureblood people’s lack of knowledge when it comes to muggle world. He had gone ahead and changed Mikkey’s detail on the telephone directory. Using the spell which allows to make change in all the copies of the book. In every directory that was ever published.

After all these arrangements, he was sure that once his mother was moved, she would be safe from the danger Peter’s connection to her can cause.

********************************************************************************************************************************************************************************

POV- SIRIUS BLACK

04/07/1979

As Sirius emerges from his room after taking a quick bath, he finds peter levitating a few boxes out of the room in which they have stored extras, mostly useless items from their school boy days.

He feels his heart drop to his stomach. James told him about Peter. How he has been staying with Dorcas. Sirius feels conflicted. He can’t help but feel a bit betrayed at Peter’s prospective betrayal.

Seeing the boxes, he is reminded of the day when all four them set up this place after their graduation. How happy and carefree they were. So hopeful and confidant.

Harry’s harsh words to Peter won’t stop ringing in his ears. Making Sirius so uncomfortable in being anywhere near Wormtail because he knows for sure that Harry believes Peter capable of choosing to become a spy for the opposite side.

But on other hand, Pete is his friend. He has not done anything wrong. Yet.

“Hey” Sirius greats quietly. Standing by the couch. Peter’s eyes widen a bit at seeing him. A small hesitant smile playing on his face, “Padfoot!”

Peter is the one who rushes to give him a bro hug. As soon as they embrace, Sirius forgets the reason why he was being a hippigroph shit by maintaining distance. This is Peter. His friend, Wormtail.

Like in a crowd of thousands of people you are told to find someone who carries matching number like yours. Life before boarding Hogwarts express was like that. Searching. Missing. Aching. Meeting James was like coming home. It was like winning half the battle of life knowing that the person who matches him is finally here and now they can conquer whatever they want. It was them against the crowd. It felt good.

Knowing and befriending Remus was a painstakingly slow process because the two of them are the most unfriendly part of the quartet in general. Sirius due to his background and Remus due to his nature to be wary of everyone. Like a moth to flame they were both brought closer due to the orbit of James they were circling around.

Remus made Sirius careless about his appearance within group. Remus becomes so mean during his time of the month that it helped break the ice for Sirius who was aiming to appear picture perfect all the time so that James couldn’t find Sirius’s bad parts. When James and Peter refused to begrudge Remus for his foul attitude when he was in pain, Sirius realised that he also won’t be judged to let them in on his less than savoury parts.

In the later years Remus presented another way for Sirius to get better by telling him all the things that is wrong with him. This is what a good friend does, right? Tell you all the reason why you are unlovable, so that you could bury them deep, to never see the light of the day.

Peter’s presence on the other hand has always been soothing when James’s has been intense and Remus’s stifling.

If an outsider looked at them, they would think that Peter and Sirius are antagonistic to each other. But this was their dynamic. Light and easy going. So, what if they always jabbed at each other like they couldn’t stand the other’s presence. But this has been their love language.

Neither of them will say that they missed the other. What Peter says, “wow, you suck at this.” It always takes a moment for Sirius to accept someone in his space. That’s a common knowledge. After giving him a second, Peter himself places one of Sirius’s arms, laying lifelessly at his side, and places at his back. Sirius gets the message and puts the second hand on Peter’s back to complete the embrace.

“Which hole have you crawled into, Wormtail?” Sirius asks, straight to the point.

“The same one your mum hides all your dad’s concubines.” Peter deadpans.

The bark of laughter that Sirius lets out echoes through the room. It has been so long he got to laugh freely and loudly like this. Peter joins too.

Since James learning about Sirius’s arrangement with Remus, things had been weird between all three of them. Remus is avoiding James and him as if they are Voldemort.

After he is done getting his bearing from the breathless laugh, he says jokingly, his voice serious, “I will let you go without inflicting you with a tingling charm for being cheeky because I have been a cunt to you for so many days.”

Pulling away, Peter looks at him in the eyes, his sea blue accusing Sirus, “You have not been just the plain cunt, though. You have been a bitchy cunt. I should get 5 more passes at being cheeky.”

“1” Sirius bargains.

“4!” Peter reiterates.

“2” Sirius amends.

They shake hands at 3 non-punishable acts of cheekiness.

“So, what’s with the boxes?” Sirius asks, the easiness taking a leave to give room to the uncomfortableness that kept Sirius away from Peter. “You leaving?” he asks neutrally. Not letting his feelings show.

“No. No. I am helping mum shift to a bit safer place.” Peter says with a smile which has no smile in it. Shrugging as if it isn’t a big deal.

“You aren’t taking up the Potter’s offer.” Sirius states. It’s not a question. Not when Peter is so self-conscious in accepting even small helps and this is a big deal. Also, Olivia is as stubborn as her son when it comes to this. She is even more against the idea of appearing like a weak person who needs help from others.

Peter shrugs. “The expansion charms on these boxes will help.” Once he is done pocketing them after charming them small, Peter’s face covers in apprehension. “You going somewhere?” Looking pointedly at Sirius’s casual attire.

“Oh yeah.” Sirius nods excitedly. “We are meeting Mia and Monty!”

Peter blinks his eyes judgementally, “Now I feel even less bad about you two behaving like absolute tools to me for the last two weeks.”

Snorting derisively Peter makes himself home at the couch, petting on the empty space by his side in a silent invitation.

Sirius goes to sit, a weight lifting off his shoulder at Peter being understanding. Still, he thinks it is necessary to say, Peter deserves this much after all the years of friendship, “It’s not just you. We just…..” raking fingers through his chin length hair, he sighs, “we don’t know what to do. What to think.” Desperation reeking from every word he speaks.

Peter nods slowly in understanding.

“I wanted to ask” Peter begins slowly, “about the,,,,,” then points at his inner forearm. Sirius still has no idea about what his Peter is referring to, “the thing on James’s cousin’s arm. The tattoo!” 

His heart thumps loudly in his chest at the mere mention of the teen. That night when he first met Harry, Sirius felt like he had never before. A warmth spread through him, wrapping around his heart like the comfiest blanket.

Even the next day, the mere presence of the other man at the breakfast Sirius felt soothed.

The tattoo on the young Potter’s arm would have been the most obvious reason for Sirius’s strange reaction but he discarded that theory after he realised that it was only him who was affected that intensely. Now he is just confused.

“Pete!!!” James exclaims excitedly, his hair wet from his beauty bath. He had told Sirius that he wants to look the best for his parents so he is going to take his sweet time. Sirius could see right through him. Just like Sirius, James is also conflicted. The both of them have been dying to see the elderly couple but this meeting being used to persuade them to drop every commitment they made was stopping them. 

Both of them being honourable man who will hate to take back their promise to fight this war. The honour helped to live with the guilt of avoiding Mia and Monty like disappointing kids.

Once they are done hugging each other like long lost lovers, James asks, “Have you always been this short, Wormy?” and comical gasp, “or have I grown tall.” A challenging look in Sirius’s direction. Who till this day is maintaining his record of being the tallest marauder.

“You have grown tall, Prongs.” Peter chirps enthusiastically. Good old chap Peter, James Potter’s biggest yes man. Somethings never change. Sirus shakes his head. But he is also a changed man under the guidance of Dorcas and Marlene, two great women, so he adds, much to Sirius’s joy, “Not more than Padfoot, though.”

Sirius snorts at James’s look of utter betrayal turns to a wince when James cries, “Wormtail! You traitor!!” Not the right choice of word, seeing the situation.

Faking a laugh, as James had aimed for without realising that his joke is on the nose, Sirius stands up and pulls Peter back on the couch. “About the tattoo that we were talking about before James so rudely interrupted us.”

Peter nods his head eagerly just as James sits on the opposite couch and smiles at Peter in a silent apology.

“Wait a minute!” Peter interrupts, “Before you begin,” then looks at James, “I took your cloak day before yesterday.” Half delayed permission and half apology.

With a swipe of his hand, James dismisses the matter, not even deeming it worth a reply just shakes his head.

With that matter out of the way, Sirius begins. “The tattoo.” Both James and Peter sit at the age of their respective places. “There is a legend behind it. If you asked my grams, she seemed to believe it true but I always thought it was a story like the story about three brothers. Anyways, long time ago a witch lived at the outskirts of the forest of……..”

A dolphin patronus interrupts him, speaking in Dorcas’s voice to Peter, “Pete, I am getting late!” Her words hushed. “Come fast!”

Looking conflicted, Peter begs him, “Just tell me the crust of it.” Sirius swallows his coutner question, wanting to know why and where Dorcas is waiting for Peter, but his friend’s desperate words stop him. He can see James too narrowing his eyes in confusion.

“Okay.” Sirius nods his head, “in short, it is believed that a person bearing that sign is sent by magic personally. To correct the nature’s order.” James snorts disbelievingly, shaking his head. Sirius continues looking at Peter, knowing that James concludes all this hogwash, “No one can copy that particular mark in magical world. I personally know this. Because I tried it last year when I went to get this tattoo.” He points at the band tattoo just below his elbow in which a dog, a stag a wolf and a rat are running in circle.

He has wanted to try the tattoo from his grandmother’s stories from childhood but the man had been unable to duplicate the image.

“It is believed that anyone who has magic’s mark is not to be harmed. Harming them means bringing home magic’s ire.”

Sirius himself is unsure of what to think of Harry. On one hand Sirius is unsettled by how settled he feels in Harry’s presence but on the other hand the logical part of his brain tells him that Harry is the envoy of mother magic herself, that has to count for something. But then the calculative part of his brains chimes in that Harry really being part of legend sounds overachieving.

He is unsure and Sirius hates not knowing whether a person his ally or adversary.

Harry is the reason that his guardians, James’s parents, escaped death. Harry is also the reason that Peter is safe and sound.

But, a teen, barely a year or two younger than them claiming that he knows how to end the war, this made Sirius’s hackles raise. The warmth that Sirius felt in the spectacled boy’s presence terrified him even more.

“Oh.” Peter says a bit disappointingly. A complex frown marring his face.

“Peter!” Dorcas’s second patronus makes all three of them jump a bit in startlement, “My boss will have my head if I am late again. I'm sorry. I am leaving!”

Peter stands immediately listening to his girlfriend’s distressed voice.

When James realises that Peter is about to apparate, he stops the man by placing a hand on his wrist. “Wormy, what is the hurry? And where is Dorcas?”

 Peter sighs and replies urgently, “Me and Dorcas have been guarding my mother’s house for the last two days. Today we are moving mum.” Then he stops as if just remembered, “this is what I have been meaning to talk to you two about.” Running his tongue on his dry lips, Peter continues, “I want you to cast wards at the place we will shift her.”

He looks at the two of them expectantly as if he is asking too much and internally preparing to be told no and disappointed.

“Of course, Pete.” James replies softly. “After we return, Me and Pads can go with you?” he offers.

Peter looks so relieved, he throws himself at James who stumbles a step or two but quickly accepts Peter’s hugs, unlike Sirius who would have found offence at the sudden breach of his space.

Peter attempts to take a step back but James’s grip tightens, he looks Sirius in the eye when he tells Peter, “Wormtail.” Sighing, “Peter, I am sorry for not being around. I will try to be better.” This is enough to make Peter overhelmed with emotions and he begins sobbing in James's arms.

James’s eyes well up and Sirius realises that James is truly believing that he is at fault for Peter’s suffering. For Sirius’s suffering too. Maybe.

Sirius shakes his head only to James who is busy consoling a sobbing Peter. Rubbing at his back, James says, “It’s alright. Shh.”

After a few minutes Peter composes himself, offers them a small smile and leaves but not before asking James to give his parents regards from Peter.

POV – PETER PETTIGREW

04/07/1979

He was running late. He tried to hurry after receiving Dorcas’s patronus messages but his talk with James and Sirius was also important. A part of the plan hinged on their help.

Dorcas’s second patronus informed him that she has to leave or else her boss will kick her out from job.

It took 10 extra minutes after that to wrap up his talk.

Peter will regret those 10 minutes for his entire life.

When he apparated inside his childhood home. A place filled with so many sweet memories. A place which saw two Peters. The peter from before his outburst that killed Timothy and the Peter from after.

The place that homes his mother’s soothing laughter.

The place where his mother reminded him time and time again that – ‘You can always come home and count on me. No matter what, Petey.’

It felt cold this time when he apparated in directly.

It took him a moment to realise that the wards he and Dorcas had set by referring to this book Dorcas borrowed from her office are ripped to pieces. Because the first thing he saw was a fallen picture of Peter in the hallway. The one which his dad took of Peter and his mother when Peter was 7 and Timothy was in a particularly good mood. They took Peter to a magic show. And even let him buy a magic set of his own.

Peter’s toothy grin and his mother’s soft smile now blurred due to the shattered glass pieces. He crouches down to pick the frame and carefully extracts the picture.

His heart drumming in his chest when he hesitantly calls “mum.”

With deliberately slow steps he heads over to her bedroom. The longest journey of his life. “Mumma!”

His mother’s distressed lullaby, desperately trying to making her distraught son sleep on the day after Peter killed his dad, echoing in his mind, for some reason.

 I will wait at the shore for you
I will weather each storm standing by 'til
Safe, you return from the Night

The door ajar, as his mother lays by the bed. Her blues eyes staring at the ceiling. Unseeing. A sob escapes his mouth. He remains standing as his mother’s supine form gets blurry.

‘LIFE IS MORE THAN JUST SURVIVING, PETEY’ she had said when he had grown into a husk after the event of his father’ death.

And here she is. Taking away the biggest reason he lives.

My love is a lighthouse
So darling, my darling
Look for the light (light)
The light (the light, the light)

For a second that last an eternity he stands, still as a statue, eager eyes begging the universe for it to be just a nightmare. In the next, he is by her side. Panic surged through him, and he stumbled forward, desperate to reach her. “Mom, please!” She doesn’t reply.

YOU SAVED ME PETER. She had told him when she came to drop him to the Hogwarts express at age 11. Telling him to live finally, because she too has begun to finally live.

Cradling her head in his lap like she did just two days back, he checks for a heart beat, finding none. Frantically performing every healing spell he knows, he throws away his wand when the thing is of no help when he needs it the most. The cry which he let out tore something within him, something beyond repair.

He felt as if he were adrift in a stormy sea, searching for a lifeline that would never come.

I will wait at the shore for you
I will weather each storm standing by 'til (standing by 'til)
Safe, you return from the night (safe, you return from the night)
My love is a lighthouse
So darling, my darling
Look for the light
The light

Anguish coursed through him, raw and unrelenting, as he grappled with the finality of her departure. There was an aching silence where her voice used to be, a hollow space that no amount of time could fill. Grief wrapped around him, a suffocating cloak, as he realized that a big part of him had been gone with her.

In that moment, the world felt unbearably heavy, and he was lost in a profound solitude, longing for just one more moment with her—a chance to say all the things left unsaid.

The air felt thick with the absence of her laughter, and every corner of the house echoed with the silence she left behind.

He could still hear her voice, gentle and nurturing, guiding him through life's challenges.

MY SWEET POTATO! SOMEDAY YOU WILL FIND SOMEWHERE YOU BELONG

The weight of sorrow pressed heavily upon him, an unrelenting reminder that he would never hear her advice again, never feel the comfort of her presence.

YOU DON’T HAVE TO BE PERFECT PETER. YOU HAVE TO BE GOOD

All he had left were the echoes of her love, a bittersweet symphony playing in his heart, marking the depth of his grief.

ALWAYS REMEMER PETER IT IS OKAY TO BE SLOW. SLOW IS SMOOTH AND SMOOTH IS FAST.

Regret twisted inside him; a gnawing pain that made it hard to breathe. This is all his fault! If only he had been smarter. A bit faster. Better.

YOU ARE, HAVE ALWAYS BEEN AND WILL ALWAYS BE, ENOUGH, MY LOVE.

Pressing his hands on his ears he begs her to stop. Just stop saying all this to him. He doesn’t deserve her kindness when he is the reason she is laying lifeless in his arms.

He always, always wanted to make it up to her past struggles because of magic by proving that magic could be good. But in the end Peter and his magic killed his mother.

He felt the world close in around him, the walls of the room pressing down as despair washed over him.

Turns out that his mother has had enough.

Enough of magic.

Enough of Peter.

EVERY ONCE IN A WHILE, DON’T BE AFRAID TO BREAK RULES PETE. YOU NEVER KNOW WHAT MIGHT HAPPEN.

This time he shouts. An ear-piercing scream he couldn’t believe he was capable of making.

He begs for her to come back. He cries for it to stop.

But it never does.

RUN TOWARDS THE SCARY MONSTER UNDER YOUR BED, MY SWEETTY PEETY! NOT AWAY FROM IT. YOU WILL TAKE ITS POWER AWAY.

He knows what he has to do............................................................................................