Before They Were Angels

Harry tossed and turned in his sleep. He was in bed, next to his wife, who was propped upon her elbow, listening to his mutterings. She had been so worried about him when he had started telling his story... though Baby James didn't notice, he grew very sad when he spoke of the Marauders. Perhaps he just wasn't ready...

Harry rolled over. "Sirius... no..." She groaned. She'd have to wake him. It was better than having to hear him relive the nightmares of his life.

"Harry, darling..." she gently shook him. He shot straight up in bed, staring at her as though he couldn't believe she was right beside him. Then he relaxed.

"I was dreaming again."

"I know." Her eyes began to well with tears; she hated seeing him in so much pain... "Sweetie, maybe you shouldn't keep telling that story. It makes you too sad."

"No." He spoke defiantly, looking into her eyes. "The only way I can put them, and myself, to rest is by sharing their story."

"Okay, sweetheart." She sighed, knowing perfectly well that once he put his mind to something, he would finish it, no matter what pain it cost him, physical or personal.

Harry was beginning to look sweaty and feverish. "I think I may have to call in sick today," he rasped.

She looked worried. The sun was just beginning to shine it's beams through the intricate pattern of the window curtain. "I'll get up and make you some Pepperup Potion," she told him. "And I'll make sure you're not contagious, and if you are then I'll de-germ the house and also James..." she fussed on.

Harry gave a weak smile. James would love this; Harry would get to tell him a longer part of the story this time.

An hour later, Harry sat with Baby James in his lap, drinking a mug of coffee that concealed a liberal amount of Pepperup. Harry took tiny sips.

"Okay, where were we?" he muttered thickly. "Oh, right..."

~*~*~

"Pettigrew, Peter!"

Peter walked slowly, visibly trembling, to the stool. He held the edges of the hat to keep it from swallowing his entire head.

"Hmmmm," said a voice in his ear. "Interesting. You have a very shrewd mind; did you ever think of becoming the next Minister of Magic?"

Er, no.

"Well, think about it. Now, let's see. Ravenclaw is definitely out; you're not a book reader, are you. You could be in Slytherin, but no, it's just not for you. Then again..."

Peter's heart hammered into his chest. He was barely listening to a word the hat said, all he was aware of was that it seemed to be taking forever. The others hadn't taken this long, had they?

"I suppose you could be in Hufflepuff, but maybe not...

Please, thought Peter, just get done with it.

"Well, you don't want to be in the wrong House, do you? Now, there's always Gryffindor, you never know..."

Meanwhile, at the Gryffindor table, Sirius was nervously tapping his fork onto his plate. "Please, Peter, come on... Gryffindor, Gryffindor..." he repeated.

"I'm not sure chanting will help," whispered Lily.

"You never know, it might! Gryffindor, Gryffindor!"

Lily giggled and joined in. Soon the others around them began to pick up the chant, and the whole table began to catch on, all except for Frank, who was desperately trying to quiet them, and a lone figure at the end of the table who sat silent.

"GRYFFINDOR! GRYFFINDOR!"

"Please don't yell, I'll get in trouble..."

"GRYFFINDOR! GRYFFINDOR!"

"C'mon now, be sports, I'm a prefect..."

"GRYFFINDOR! GRYFFINDOR!"

"GRYFFINDOR!" shouted a new voice. The hat had finally spoken. The table erupted in cheers. Peter stumbled to the table and plunked down next to Lily, giving them all a shy smile.

"Potter, James!"

James skittered up to the hat, obviously eager to get it over with. He jammed it on his head and waited.

"Ahhh..." said the voice in his ear, "Brave, aren't you? A little arrogant and conceited, however..."

I am not, thought James angrily.

"I wonder..." whispered the hat, "yes, yes..."

What?

"I shouldn't be surprised if I hear you've helped save the entire wizarding world. GRYFFINDOR!"

James bounced off the stool and ran to the table; sitting by Lily. "Wow!" shouted Shelby, "Five Gryffindors in a row! That's never happened before."

~*~*~

At the same time Shelby was speaking, an excited Professor McGonagall sat down beside Professor Dumbledore at the staff table, who had shown up during the last minute Sorting. "It's absolutely marvelous, Albus! Just think, in all the long years Hogwarts has existed, five students in a row have never been Sorted into the same House before! I just hope they've learned their lesson by now. Oh, what a wonderful coincidence!" She turned to her colleague, and was surprised to see his face grave.

"I don't believe in coincidences, Minerva," he said softly. "Neither of us were able to listen to the Sorting Hat's song, as we were disciplining, but Poppy has just been telling me the content the Hat included into it's normal song."

Professor Sprout bobbed her head excitedly. "That's right, Minerva," she said, "I don't remember the exact words, but it spoke of 'great division' between the Houses and spoke of five people who would change the world as we know it."

Minerva McGonagall stared at them. "You don't think..."

"I don't know," finished Dumbledore. "But I think we'd better keep an eye on them." He dipped his head toward the Gryffindor table.

Professor Flitwick bounced up and down in his chair. Minerva frowned at him; it was a bad habit of his, whether it was because he was excited or because he was too tiny to see over the table.

"Maybe it's got something to do with the Muggle killings we've been hearing about for the past couple months. You know, about fifty of them were killed in a mall parking lot last month. The Muggle authorities told them it was a... a bomb, but you know..." he squeaked.

"Oh, you don't really think a wizard had something to do with that, do you?" asked a new voice behind them. They turned to find a handsome, dark-haired man standing behind them. He grinned, showing pearly whites.

Poppy Sprout made a strange noise in her throat and started fussing with her hair. Minerva McGonagall frowned.

"May I introduce the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher," spoke Professor Dumbledore. "Tom Riddle."

~*~*~

"Come on," snapped Marlene McKinnon, the other Gryffindor prefect, "Get the speech over with so we can eat."

"Amen!" shouted Sirius. Marlene raised an eyebrow at him. It wasn't too often she met a first year who wasn't terrified of the older kids.

The Headmaster stood up and raised his arms for silence.

"Finally," groaned a third year.

Dumbledore looked around merrily at the students, all traces of his former gloomy mood gone from his face. "I know that you all anxiously await the food, so I will save major announcements until after the feast and for right now will just kindly remind you to always wash your socks, especially the polka-dotted ones. Now, let the feast begin!"

Food appeared on the table in all sizes and colors. "What was that all about?" asked James as he shoveled mashed potatoes and peas onto his plate.

"Don't worry about it," answered Marlene. "He always says things like that."

Meanwhile, down at the other end of the table, Remus was gloomily drowning himself in chocolate. He had piled every chocolate dessert within reach onto his plate. Benjy Fenwick, a second year sitting beside him, stared. "Er, you okay?" he asked. Remus scowled at him.

"I was wonderful until you started talking to me."

"Jeez, sorry. Didn't mean to bother you or anything." He turned back and poked at his turkey haughtily. Remus ignored him.

Was he okay? Was he okay? How dare he think he was okay! He was in Gryffindor! The hat had obviously made a mistake. He was a Slytherin, through and through. Or so he had believed...

He looked to the Slytherin table and saw that Marcus had made it. He, however, didn't seem pleased with it, nor angry. He stared at the table as he had stared at the bottom of the boat on the lake.

Suddenly, a commotion at the other end of the table distracted him from his own woes. James and Lily were shouting at each other, and it was clear what it was about.

"He's really nice, and you shouldn't call him that. Just because he has different opinions than you doesn't mean he's wrong. And anyway, he's a Gryffindor now, so he can't be a Slytherin-wannabe!"

"I don't care, Evans! The guy is a freak! We tried to be nice to him, he wouldn't accept it! And why are you sitting down here, anyway? Why don't you go sit by your boyfriend?"

"He's not my boyfriend, we're just friends, and I think I will go sit by him, so... so there!"

"Well, fine! Go then! I don't care!"

"Fine! I will! And I don't care either!" And with that, she stomped her way towards the other end of the table, with everyone's eyes on her. Some of the older students were sniggering, but most just had their mouths hanging open. Lily slammed her plate so hard down by Remus that he had to jump to avoid her chicken splattering all over him. He was alarmed to see her crying.

"I hate him! I really, really do! I thought he was my friend..." Remus didn't really know what to do. The only time he'd ever seen someone crying in Knockturn Alley was just before the guy gave himself a fatal curse. Oh, and when he'd first run into Lily. He hoped she wasn't suicidal.

"Er, it'll be okay," he said lamely, patting her arm. He looked down to the other end of the table and saw that James kept glancing angrily at them. Lily obviously wasn't aware of how uncomfortable he was.

"I thought he was really nice," she sobbed into her napkin, "He told me how that game works... you know, that wizarding one... Quad itch or something..."

"Quidditch?" Remus offered. He was starting to feel really nervous now. Usually he felt so in control...

"Yeah, that's the one..."

"Uh, want some chocolate?" asked Remus, shoving his plate over without looking at her.

Lily looked up and smiled at him through her tears. "Sure thanks." She eyed the mountain in front of her. "What were you trying to do, lose yourself in it?" Remus gave an inaudible sigh. She seemed to be feeling better.

"I'm always a bit... hungrier than others." He flushed. Why was it everything he said to this girl came out sounding as if some idiot was speaking? Well, he had been sorted into Gryffindor... maybe it had affected his brain.

~*~*~

Down at the other end of the table, James was ranting about how moronic Lily was and how obviously evil Remus was while Sirius nodded enthusiastically as he wolfed down his meal. Peter was beside them, daydreaming.

"...Absolutely stupid, she is! Oh, he's really nice, even though he's a pathetic git..." He said in a very bad impression of Lily's voice. He slammed his fist into the table. "And him... all Slytherins ever want to do is take over the world! He's probably some, I dunno, Slytherin spy sent to destroy us all!"

"Yeah," said Sirius, "But don't worry, I'll go after him! I'll make him pay. I'll curse him so hard he won't be able to eat for a week. I'll-"

"Sirius, please," moaned James. He held his head in his hands. The truth was, he hadn't meant to make Lily so angry with him. He really was beginning to like her... Just great. Now she would probably never speak to him again. He looked up to see Peter's sympathetic eyes on him.

"Maybe, if you apologize, Lily'll still be your friend," he said softly.

"Why would I want to apologize to her? She should apologize to me! And when did you join this conversation?" James glared at Peter, who flushed.

"I'm sorry, I-I didn't mean..." James mentally kicked himself. Why was he being so mean to Peter? He hadn't done anything to him. He breathed in.

"I didn't mean it, Pete," he said to him, "I'm just a little ticked, that's all."

"It's okay," mumbled Peter.

"Hey," cried Sirius, "look at the ghosts at all the other tables. Why doesn't Gryffindor have a ghost?" he asked, a comically indignant look upon his face.

"Never had one, mate," answered Dedalus Diggle, another tiny first year. "Dad told me Gryffindor's the only one without a ghost."

"Kind of depressing," mused Peter, "well, I dunno, maybe not..."

Dedalus and another first year, Edgar Bones, soon began lively conversation with the boys, liking each other very much. The other Gryffindor prefect, Emmeline Vance, a very lively and friendly dark haired girl, began giving them tips about the castle and what teachers to look out for.

"And I don't know about the Defense teacher. The last one, Professor Balk, was frightened to death by a couple of banshees. Heart gave out, poor fellow..."

~*~*~

Frank Longbottom, meanwhile, was having a hard time finishing his meal. Wonderful as the feast was, he was a natural worrywart, and was nervous about his "duties" as a prefect.

His best friend, Sturgis Podmore, a rod thin boy with quite prominent ears, was laughingly explaining how Alice Burns, the new Hufflepuff prefect, tripped as she got off the train and spilled all the contents of her trunk out, including her knickers.

"Big pink frilly ones they were, Frank, you should've seen it..." Frank's eyes wandered to the Hufflepuff table, where the round-faced girl sat, still crying from embarrassment, as her friend Dorcas Meadowes comforted her.

"Stop it, Sturgis," snapped Frank.

"Why, what's wrong?"

"Well, look at her."

"What do you care about Alice Burns?" Frank chose not to answer. Instead, he looked to the Slytherin table and smiled.

"Look, Sturge, Gideon Prewett made Head Boy in Slytherin, and his brother Fabian made Prefect." Gideon and Fabian were the only Slytherins Frank had ever gotten along with. Each were haughty and overly proud, like all Slytherins, but they had a better outlook to it all than the others. Of course, he wouldn't want to be in the same room with them for more than ten minutes, but compared to the rest of those Slytherin asses, they were saints.

"I see Caradoc Dearborn made Head Boy, surprise, surprise," grunted Sturgis. It was common knowledge that Sturgis hated Caradoc, who always had the most O.W.L.S of the school. And, though Caradoc was two years older than Sturgis and shouldn't have minded him one bit, he always made sure Sturgis knew what he thought of him.

Seeing Sturgis eyeing him reproachfully, Caradoc unclipped his Head Boy badge and began shining it on his robe.

Sturgis glowered. "Showoff."

~*~*~

After everyone was finished, Dumbledore stood and clapped his hands for silence. "Ahem! Ladies and gentleman, ghosts and poltergeists, lend me your ears! Now that we are properly fed and watered, it is time for the horribly boring and nastily long announcements.

"First years should note that the Forbidden Forest is, as the name suggests, forbidden. We have not had too many cases of bodily dismemberment, but I'd advise you to stay out, just in case." Dumbledore's eyes twinkled.

"Mr. Filch, the caretaker, would also like me to remind you that magic in the corridors is prohibited." Filch, a sallow-faced man who carried a dust colored kitten, nodded his head approvingly from the staff table.

"Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. As always, no first years are allowed on the teams until you've had proper training by Madam Hooch." Sirius and James groaned loudly.

"And finally, a Whomping Willow has been planted onto our grounds. For those who don't know what a Whomping Willow is, please just kindly remember to stay away from it, because I doubt any of you would want to be mauled by it."

At this statement, many of the students turned and began whispering among themselves. Lily noticed Remus's cheeks tinged with pink. She wondered if he was going to do that very often.

"A Whomping Willow?" cried Jessica, the talkative girl from the boat. "Are they mad?"

"What's a Whomping Willow?" asked Lily.

"An evil tree," answered Benjy Fenwick, who seemed to have gotten over his anger.

"Now," bellowed Dumbledore over the commotion, "let's display our school spirit by singing the school song! Pick a favorite tune, all of you!" Dumbledore flicked his wand, and a long golden ribbon came from the end of it, and, rising far above the students heads, twisted and shaped itself into words.

The teachers grimaced as the horrible, mingled tunes reached their ears.

"Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts,

Teach us something please,

Whether we be old and bald,

Or young with scabby knees,

Our heads could do with filling

With some interesting stuff,

For now they're bare and full of air,

Dead flies and bits of fluff,

So teach us things worth knowing,

Bring back what we've forgot,

Just do your best, we'll do the rest,

And learn until our brains all rot."

The horrible, discordant sounds filled every crevice of the Great Hall. Each student started and finished differently, and were pleased to see the horrified faces of the teachers. Dumbledore, however, wiped tears from his eyes.

"Music!" he cried, "The most beautiful magic in the entire universe! And now, bedtime. Off you go!"

"Crazy old bat," muttered Sturgis to Frank as he led the first years to the Common Room, "He's the one that made that song up, I'd bet my life on it..."

Marlene flipped her long dark hair into his face. "Dumbledore is the most brilliant mind the wizarding world has ever seen," she huffed, "Even if he is a bit mad."

Sturgis flushed bright red as she walked away, but didn't say anything.

Sirius, meanwhile, was running to every Gryffindor he could get to, pointing to Remus, and "whispering", "See that guy? He's a Slytherin-wannabe. And you know what his name is? It's Loony Lupin."

Laughter and pointing fingers followed Remus all the way up the stairs. He knew what they were saying, he could hear better than any of them. Stupid Gryffindors. Then he bowed his head as he remembered that he was one of them.

"Okay," said Frank as they gathered around the portrait of the Fat Lady. "Password's Ursa Minor. Everyone got that? Good."

The door swung open and they all piled in, the first years searching frantically for their rooms, which were assigned to them by the house elves who put their things in each room.

Remus was the first to find his room, his meager belongings on the second bed he came to. Not feeling a bit tired, he begrudgingly got into his pajamas and pulled the curtains around him.

Sirius, James, Peter, and Edgar Bones were all in the same room together. They marched in, finding five beds. Seeing that someone was already sleeping in the second bed with the curtains drawn, they each tiptoed to their beds, Edgar taking the first, James taking the third, Peter finding his things on the fourth, and Sirius the last.

Edgar, a serious first year whose personality contrasted sharply with his best friend Dedalus Diggle, was ready for bed before the others.

"I sure hope that's Dedalus behind those curtains," he whispered. The others nodded, though weren't sure. There had been more first years than usual sorted, so many had been split up.

James yawned. "Well, I'll see you guys in the morning."

~*~*~

Hours later, Remus lay wide awake, arms crossed over his chest. He listened to the others gently snoring and muttering in their sleep. Why, oh why, did he always end up with these people? It was as if he and the other three were magnetically drawn to each other. But this was not what troubled Remus most about being in Gryffindor.

He was worried about his aunt. He knew they sent owls to each of the students' parents or guardians telling what House they made. What would she think, now that he was a Gryffindor? Would she kick him out of the house?

He shivered. Growing up in the Alley had taught him many things about street life. He knew of things other 11-year-olds didn't about life, but he knew something else, too. There was no way of getting around it; no matter how much he hated it, he couldn't deny it. He was a kid. People were hard in the Alley, it was kill or be killed. And Remus was sure to be killed.

Remus sat up. He couldn't stay there. He was never able to get to sleep at night; his wolf senses awoke more. He could see through the dark as if it were daytime. He jumped silently out of bed and snuck down to the common room, feeling more alive than he ever did in daylight.

The Fat Lady muttered sleepily about him waking her up in the middle of the night, then fell silent as she closed. Then he fairly ran down the stairs, jumping nimbly over the trick step, hardly making a sound at all.

He ran past sleeping portraits and snoring armor, stopping only when he reached the Great Hall. He had heard something. Every muscle in his body quivered with suppressed energy as he strained his ears for the sound.

There it was again! He looked around, still nothing. He nearly shouted when he felt something brush against his leg. Lantern-like eyes stared up from a dust-colored kitten. It hissed angrily at him and bristled. Of course. Animals did not like him.

But if she was here, her owner was around somewhere. He turned another direction and ran that way. He had no idea where he was going, but he didn't care. Suddenly he stopped. An overpowering smell of food overcame him. Ever hungry, he knew the kitchens were around somewhere.

He was in a long hall, filled with ceiling-to-floor portraits, most of food. He walked up and down until he stopped in front of a painting of a bowl of fruit. This had to be it.

He frowned as he looked it up and down. There must be some kind of secret password, or something you had to prod with your wand. He reached into his pajama pocket, pulling out his wand, which he'd mercifully remembered to bring. He poked at the banana. Nothing. The orange did nothing as well. Then he prodded the pear.

It squirmed, then lay still. Remus's eyebrows drew into a line. A squirming pear? He poked it again, harder. It let out the faintest muffled chuckle. Realization hit him. He reached up with his other hand and tickled the pear. It gave a high pitched giggle, then the entire painting dissolved into a door.

He slowly opened the door. Hopefully, no one would be in there at night. But there was. He was pulled in by a dozen gnarled hands, all belonging to ugly grinning faces.

"Hello, sir, how is we be serving you tonight?"

~*~*~

The next morning, the boys awoke, and to their dismay, it was not Dedalus, as they had hoped, but Remus, who still lay sleeping in bed, not having bothered to close the curtains.

"What, does he follow us or something?" shouted Sirius.

"He was here first, though, remember?" said Peter.

"What's so wrong with him?" asked Edgar, frowning.

"Nothing, except he's a Slytherin wannabe and needs psychological help," answered James, who was lovingly hanging up his portrait of Marilyn over his bed. He blew a kiss to her. "Some people just have no idea how nuts they really are."

~*~*~

The next few days passed in a whirlwind. Between trying to find their way to classes and keeping up with homework, the first years barely had time to converse with their friends.

Lily was having a hard time with some of her new dorm mates, especially Jessica Woods. Though Jessica was nice enough, she found her constant chatter beginning to get on her nerves. She was also annoyed that Jessica frequently badgered her about spending so much time with "that weird guy." She had found solace in Jaime, however, a tall, shy girl whom she got on with wonderfully.

Lily found she was wonderful with Charms; she was the first to get her feather flying through the air, and she loved the funny little Professor Flitwick.

Somehow, James, Peter, and Sirius were able to have fun even with all the new work. First day in Transfiguration found Sirius lighting himself on fire with a simple non-burning spell, and James was the only one in the class to successfully turn his match into a needle, making McGonagall smile at him even though she had just given him and the other two detention for the non-burning fire. They also found solace in torturing Remus. They had begun to make up a game involving who could make Remus turn red the most.

Remus was having a very hard time. He had never exactly had friends, but he'd never been laughed at before, either. His new nickname, "Loony Lupin," spread like wildfire among the students. Even the older kids such as Sturgis enjoyed teasing him, saying just loud enough for him to hear:

"Hey, those Slytherins have really been getting on our nerves lately. Maybe we should send Loony Lupin as a peace offering."

Remus became the joke of Gryffindor. Not only did they laugh at the way he acted, but soon at his torn clothes, his ancient second-hand wand that backfired at almost every spell, and his permanently windblown hair. Peeves took to singing "Loony, loopy Lupin, loony, loopy Lupin," whenever he passed in the hall.

The only other person in the entire first year to suffer as much as he did was Severus Snape. Most had heard of how he had pushed another student into the lake, so he was ridiculed in almost every way, even by his fellow Slytherins. He followed Lucius Malfoy around so much that people began asking him if he had a crush.

On the first day in Defense Against the Dark Arts, however, something happened to make Peter think he had it worse than anyone else.

The day started out normal enough. They did not have to double with anyone in Defense, so many were looking forward to it. Peter, Sirius, and James sat in the front of the class as usual, not for better learning, but because they enjoyed playing pranks on the teachers whenever they could.

"Got the dung bombs?" hissed James to Sirius, who nodded. Sirius had a huge stash of these in their room that he kept for "emergencies."

Remus and Lily headed toward the back corner of the class, Remus immediately falling asleep on his desk.

Lily was very worried about Remus. While around others he acted just as haughty as he did at the beginning of the year, while when they were alone he seemed a nervous wreck. She new he wasn't used to people making fun of him all the time. Not only that, but lately, he had been acting sick, falling asleep in every class. Lily noticed that none of the teachers did anything about it, which made her wonder if he was terminally ill. When she asked him, he just shook his head and frowned.

She didn't have much time to brood on this, however, because just then the teacher walked in. Many of the girls gave excited squeaks as he turned and smiled at them all, showing all of his pearly whites.

"Now," he began, "I am Professor Riddle. I do hope we will have fun together this year." He grinned again. Lily groaned. She didn't find anything particularly handsome about the Defense teacher.

Professor Riddle began roll call. When he got to "Pettigrew, Peter," he stopped, and looked at him closely, smiling all the while.

"Pettigrew," he began, his smile growing wider, "I believe I knew your father." Peter sat stock still in his seat, petrified. No one had ever mentioned his father in front of him. The class turned to look at him. Riddle leaned close and whispered in Peter's ear, so that only he could hear.

"I didn't like him much."

Riddle stood up straight again, smiling at him as if nothing had happened. Peter stared at him. Those words might have sounded like a joke to anyone else, but Peter knew better. That simple message had carried a hidden threat in it. Peter breathed and closed his eyes, not listening to what Riddle was saying about curses.

Sirius jabbed him in the side. Peter's eyes shot open. "We're taking notes," he hissed, pointing to the blackboard. Peter sighed in relief. While most people hated taking notes, Peter loved it. He was not naturally good at magic, and he was a fast writer, so taking notes meant he did not have to embarrass himself.

He finished in record time, before anyone else, and took them up to Riddle. Riddle read them over, then looked up at Peter who was waiting expectantly. Riddle smiled at him, then ripped the notes with one motion and threw them in the trash. "Do it over again, Pettigrew. And this time, neatly."

~*~*~

Peter lagged behind the others as they ran off, laughing, to their classes. He'd been given detention by Riddle at the end of class. He, James, and Sirius had been given detention before by McGonagall, obviously, but this time detention sounded more sinister. For one thing, Riddle had given him a week instead of just two days like McGonagall.

He did not even know what he had done. All through class Riddle gave him subtle hints of hostility that only he knew of. Such as, after guessing some answers on a paper and turning it in, Riddle stood up and said, "Someone, I will not mention names, however, seems to have mixed up the Conjunctivus Curse with the Imparo Curse. Two quite different things, hmmm?" Then he stood smiling as the suck-ups burst into laughter while Peter sank low in his seat.

Peter smashed a fist into his other hand. Why did he let that man walk all over him? Tonight was his first detention. He made a pact with himself. He would be brave, and he would boldly ask Riddle why he was having detention when he hadn't done anything. He pulled Algernon out of his pocket, setting him on his palm.

"What do you think?" he whispered. Algernon shook his whiskers.

~*~*~

The time for the detention finally came. That evening Peter walked up to the door of Riddle's office and rapped smartly on the door. The first thing he would say would be to ask him what he was here for. He had been planning what to say all day long.

"Come in."

Peter opened the door and marched up to Riddle's desk. Peter opened his mouth to say what he had planned, then stopped. The words had died on his tongue. Riddle was staring at him, smiling, yet it was not the smile he wore when teaching the students. His eyes were narrowed evilly.

"Were you going to say something, Pettigrew?" he asked, leaning forward. His office was very dim, and Peter noticed the shadows dancing across his face, like demons performing a ritual. Peter gasped as he heard a hissing noise behind him, and whirled around.

A snake, bigger than any he had ever seen before, was halfway raised, eye-to-eye with Peter. It's red eyes reflected Peter's terrified face. Riddle made a strange hissing noise, and the snake dropped back down. Peter turned to look at him, realization looming before him.

Riddle could talk to snakes.

"Please excuse Nagini," said Riddle, leaning back and making a steeple with his fingers. "She's hungry." Riddle's horrible smile grew wider.

"Now. I am sure you are asking yourself why I gave you detention. Is that right?"

Peter stared at him. Riddle leaned forward again, getting so close that his nose was an inch from Peter's face. "I asked you a question."

Peter made a sound in his throat, then nodded. Riddle laughed. "Ah. I told you I did not like your father. A saying I've always believed is, 'like father, like son.'" The smile vanished from Riddle's face, leaving it stone cold.

"Although I've been known to make a few exceptions." Peter's eyes went wide. Riddle was mad. He gave him detention because he didn't like his father?

"You know, Pettigrew," Riddle interrupted his thoughts, "I wasn't made Defense teacher for nothing. I know many little tricks, including Silencing Charms." Peter shivered. Where was he going with this?

"I put a Silencing Charm all around my office." Riddle spoke lazily, as if he was discussing the weather. "What I'm saying is, and I hope you'll pardon the expression," Riddle yawned, "no one can hear your scream." Peter stood, shocked. He looked into Riddle's face, willing him to make a sign that he was joking. They stayed like that for only a second. Then Peter ran toward the door, hand stretched out for the doorknob, but just before he reached it, Riddle pulled his wand out.

"Crucio." Fire exploded through Peter's veins. He didn't know where he was, he didn't care, he just wanted it to stop. The pain seared him from inside out, and someone outside of himself was screaming...

And just like that, it stopped. Peter lay panting on the ground, heart hammering into his chest. Finally, he sat up and looked around. Riddle was sitting at his desk, calmly grading papers.

"Six O'clock tomorrow, Pettigrew. Don't forget."

~*~*~

The next day at breakfast, James, Sirius, and Peter sat buttering toast. Peter was being unnaturally quiet, putting a damper on Sirius and James' usual cheeriness.

When Owl Post flew in, Ham dropped in front of James, a box of Chocolate Frogs tied to his leg.

"Alright, Mom!" cried James, giving Ham a piece of toast. He bit James's finger in thanks and flew off. To Sirius's surprise, Bob flew in, knocking over his pumpkin juice, a letter in his beak.

Sirius opened the letter, read what was inside, then wadded it and threw it angrily on the table and stormed off.

"Sirius, what's wrong?" yelled Peter to Sirius's back, who didn't answer. James opened the letter and read off the short message:

Be warned, your father is alive.

~*~*~

Harry's wife walked into the living room from the kitchen, wand in hand, to find out why the story had stopped. She found father and son asleep in each others arms. She tapped Harry softly on the shoulder, and he opened his eyes, smiled at her and put a finger over his lips.

He carried Baby James off to his room, setting him gently onto his bed, where James curled into a ball and reached for his stuffed owl.

Ah, youth.

TO BE CONTINUED