Symphonie Fantastique

Voldemort stood before them. He towered over Peter, whose ears were full of the low hum of the ones who had enticed him. Shadows flickered on the walls; a lavender fire provided the room's only light. Death had touched them, breaking their chain. Already there were gaps in the loyal circle, spaces once filled by those who shared his promise now invisible gravestones shimmering in the fire's glow. His master's voice was high and discordant, a bending of sound into quartertones.

"Wormtail, your time has come."

He could only raise his eyes and nod. Finally, he had won. He had convinced Sirius to let him be the Potters' Secret-Keeper. Arguing with Sirius had nearly torn him in two, but he had only to remember the scars on his thin body to keep pursuing the idea. He had not succeeded where he thought he would, and this was his last chance to please his master or...he didn't even want to think about the consequences. It had taken Sirius a long time to consent, and he had almost resigned himself to insanity at the hands of the other Death Eaters.

Voldemort's words were gentle, with the harshest of implications.

"James Potter."

Surrounded by figures in long hooded cloaks, he sank to his knees and his mind began to spin.

"James," he thought, "James, I love you, please forgive me. I could never do this willingly; do you know that? But, oh, they offered me what you wouldn't share. They could make me more than I was. And you deserted me, left me behind when the time came for us to go forward in life. Didn't you know that was when I needed you the most? For so long I watched you, Sirius, and Remus succeed where I couldn't. I wanted just one day to feel the way you did and be as confident and strong as you were. When they came to me, it was like a door opened at which I had shouted 'Alohomora' for years. And the pain. You have never experienced pain to the point where you forget who you are and will give everything you've ever known to make it stop. This choice, James… it was not mine. Please, please forgive me. You have to forgive, because you could never understand."

In a single breath, he changed the world. The Potters' secret burst from his mouth, and it was rewarded with a lipless smile.

"What have I done?" he asked himself as he began to shake.

Peter dropped his head into his hands as haunted, misshapen images filled his mind. He saw James as a silver stag, advancing on a moving blackness. Sirius appeared, looking as though he hadn't eaten in months. He heard James shouting Lily's name. A picture of Harry with blood on his forehead flashed before him. To drive out the dreams, he pressed the heels of his hands into his forehead, pulling his hair.

"James," he thought, "could you ever forgive me? All I wanted was a success of my own, and I'm paying for it with you. I thought...I thought they would give me what I always wanted. Didn't you notice? How many years have we known each other? Didn't you see? It was about you, and how much I have always loved you. Since I first let them take me, I have known this time would come, because you were so determined and secure in your abilities, because you could resist them when I couldn't. You saw them for what they were and turned them down because you never needed what they had to offer. It wouldn't have to be this way if you had gone with them. My master wanted your life, not your death. I knew I would have to give you to them in return for my place. I never thought, though, that I would feel like this. Heartbroken. Lost. I can't straddle this ravine forever, the one between you and them. It's not a life I can face."

The voices of the others slowly descended in pitch, shrouding him in ruthless intentions.

He heard funeral bells tolling in the distance. Death. Whose?

Sirius, who was probably at his house right now, wondering where he was. He would make Sirius pay for this, if James could not forgive him.

He heard funeral bells tolling in the distance. Death. Whose?

He had been wrong in blaming James. It was Sirius, brash and bold, who could never understand his need. Sirius, joined to James and Remus at the soul, whose discomfort he could feel when they were alone together. He had been the one to ultimately keep their trio from becoming a full quartet, but at the same time his caring and trust would be his downfall. Sirius had given him the secret and their friend's life.

He heard funeral bells tolling in the distance. Death. Whose?

The circle began their chant, strange words of malevolence and prayer.

"Dies irae, dies illa, solvet saeclum in favilla, teste David cum Sybilla."

He heard funeral bells tolling in the distance. Death. Whose?

"Quantus tremor est futurus, quando judex est venturus..."

He heard funeral bells tolling in the distance. Death. Whose?

"Tuba mirum spargens sonum per sepulchra regionum..."

He heard funeral bells tolling in the distance. Death. Whose?

A street. A street near Godric's Hollow. A street full of witches and wizards who knew and loved James. Witnesses. There had to be witnesses who would see that Sirius, not he, was the real traitor.

"...coget omnes ante thronum."

He heard funeral bells tolling in the distance. Death. Whose?

"Judex ergo cum sedebit, quidquid latet apparebit, nil inultum remanebit."

He heard funeral bells tolling in the distance. Death. Whose?

It wouldn't be so hard to lure Sirius to a public place. His temper would be his end. It would take almost nothing to get Sirius screaming. If they thought Sirius was angry, surely it would not take much except a few well-chosen words to make them believe he was capable of murder.

"Quid sum miser tunc dicturus? Quem patronum rogaturus, cum vix justus sit securus."

He heard funeral bells tolling in the distance. Death. Whose?

"Rex tremendae majestatis, qui salvandos salvas gratis, salva me, fons pietatis."

He heard funeral bells tolling in the distance. Death. Whose?

"Juste judex ultionis, donum fac remissionis, ante diem rationis."

He heard funeral bells tolling in the distance. Death. Whose?

"James," he thought, "I know you'll never forgive me. I almost told Remus; did you know that? Did he tell you about my visit? He had to have suspected something. Damn his loyalty. He might have stopped all of this, but he's more intent on keeping his promises. Maybe one day he'll put all this together, and know the story. After tomorrow, I'll never see either of them again." Remus was just as guilty as Sirius. He had to have known. How could he not? He was supposed to have broken his promise of silence, unwittingly saving them all, but had seen only what he wanted to see.

The atmosphere in the room was alive with malicious joy. Snape, Goyle, Avery, Crabbe, Karkaroff-- he could feel their hearts swell at the thought of James's demise. Their promise to each other and their master grew stronger with the loss of every innocent life. They were convinced they would win the war, but at the same time Peter knew his own battle had barely begun. He would die unless he could figure out a way to escape.

A shock, like being touched momentarily with the Cruciatus Curse, sent waves through Peter as he lifted his head and dropped his arms.

James stood before him, wearing a hooded cloak to match those worn by the Death Eaters. He felt faint at the vision of his beloved as a Dark wizard, joining hands with the others. They had wanted James. Someone so bright and assured would have been a tremendous addition to their number.

James's image taunted him. Though the shadow had no voice, it conveyed a thousand messages with its eyes.

Do you remember those long evenings, Wormtail, when it seemed like the sun would never rise and we laughed at the stars? Do you remember how cold my hands were? The air was sharp and it hurt to breathe, but there was nothing that made us feel so alive. You shared everything with me, I thought. You told me so much that I knew you had hidden for so long, but what you didn't say was more important than what you did. I know how you feel. I have known for years. I saw it in your face and your motions, but you and I both know that it could never have been.

In endless frozen nights they had shared each other's heat, pain, hope, and wonder. Peter pushed James to new levels of thinking, and knew that James loved the challenge. Never had he shown Peter anything but kindness, but it wasn't enough. It had not stopped Peter from giving up everything he was for the promise of something he might become. For all their time spent together, he had never seen Peter's deepest desire: to possess what the other three had in spirit and aptitude. Peter knew, but refused to admit to himself or anyone else, that it was something that could never be taught or given. They were born to stand apart, to succeed, and he was born to follow.

He flared with jealousy at James's courage, and the nerve that allowed him to turn his back on one of the greatest wizards to have ever lived. James had to have known the price of his refusal, yet he stayed true to his beliefs. Voldemort's fury had reached a peak he had not thought possible when James turned down the offer to join the circle, much more so than when anyone else had done the same thing. It was as though James had a power or a legacy no one else possessed. Something Voldemort could only get from him. Something Voldemort feared and wanted to erase. Peter almost had to laugh at his master. Only someone who didn't know James would be angry with what he had done. Anyone else would have seen James's reaction from the beginning. The way to James was not through direct confrontation, but through manipulation, confusion, and perverse reasoning. James had to be outsmarted, his thoughts and logic twisted until he no longer knew one idea from the next. It was then he was at his most vulnerable.

"Tonight, we will bring down the one who would deny us."

Wind gathered in the clear night...

"James Potter will die."

...ripping leaves from trees...

"His inheritance will no longer threaten us."

...screaming through bare branches...

"None of his bravery will protect him."

...tearing through gates and weakened windows.

Low voices murmured acceptance, approval. More than half of them barely knew James, but they were all aware to some degree of how his actions had been a blow to their quest for power. Their anger and frustration had accumulated alongside their master's. He had taken his rage out on his circle, and through him they had all come to despise James. Entwined with pride, their hatred made them stronger. It fueled their desire to make James one of them, to claim ownership of such a gifted wizard. When they killed or tortured, James was in their thoughts, adding vengeance to their curses.

"Oro supplex et acclinis, cor contritum quasi cinis, gere curam mei finis."

He heard one voice, rich and iniquitous, laughing. Malfoy. It had to be. The unspoken second in command had wanted to conquer James for years, and for years had watched him stand just out of reach.

Thoughts of Remus floated to the top of Peter's mind. He would miss Remus, always so understanding, but at the same time he knew it would be harder to face Remus than Sirius. Let Sirius kill him. Let Sirius's fury and strength get the better of him. He was prepared for that. He welcomed the idea that he would not have to live as a jumbled wreck of feelings. Remus's punishment of abandonment and guilt would be a hundred times worse. It would force him to live the rest of his life in the pain of the remembrance of James's touch.

He had not meant for it to come to this, to be counting down the minutes to James's untimely death. Blood flowed into his mouth, bitter and metallic, as he bit down on his lip to keep from screaming James's name and begging for absolution. Curling into his position, his heart pounded in his ears and every slight noise in the room became deafening. James's specter melted in his mind's eye, and he dug his fingernails into the palms of his hands to keep from reaching toward his last vision of his beloved.

The Death Eaters' chanting resumed, more strident than before.

"Ingemisco tanquam reus, culpa rubet vultus meus, supplicanti parce, Deus."

As he looked up at his master, he wondered if all his torture had been for nothing. Would he be the next one killed? Now that the Dark Lord had James, he wasn't sure if he was still guaranteed a spot among the Death Eaters. When he had first joined, he thought they saw him in a way no one else did, as someone capable and clever. Once James was dead, would his existence mean anything? In giving his master James, the center of their group, he knew he had also renounced his life with Sirius and Remus. His master would know his doubt, and he would not be able to reason his way out of punishment for his thoughts. No one would be his advocate. He had tricked those who loved him for a wish that he now realized could never be fulfilled. The only true way out, he knew, was to cause his own death, but he was certain he lacked that bravery.

"Lacrimosa dies illa qua resurget ex favilla."

He held back his tears of knowledge and remorse. Above all else, he could not allow himself to leave those that knew him with a memory of him as a liar, a sycophant, a traitor. They had to believe he was dead, for he knew then that they would never speak of him except fondly.

Voldemort's laughter was more terrible than he had ever heard. The shrieks of the damned filled it, and whispers of the lost. To him, James Potter would be an outstanding conquest. The Dark Lord would have the last word over anyone who rejected him. As resolute as James was, even he couldn't stop death. His end would be the Trinity's as well. Humiliated, guilt-ridden, torn by betrayal, Sirius and Remus would finally know what it was like to live as Peter did, blinded by darkness.

Feeling a sudden cold draft, he looked over his shoulder to see his master leaving the room, robes flowing in his wake. The door slammed shut, like the crash of many cymbals, as Voldemort left for Godric's Hollow already celebrating his certain victory.