Trust and Betrayal: A Prequel

17. All Hallows Eve

1981

Halloween evening at Hogwarts was always a lively, festive event. Enormous pumpkins with extravagant carvings filled the Great Hall. Illuminated Jack o' Lanterns floated above the House tables. Bats swooped overhead, and the house-elves outdid themselves by preparing a sumptuous and memorably scary feast. The ghosts, appreciating that this was a holiday honouring spirits, preened more than usual as they floated about. At the staff table, Albus Dumbledore smiled broadly as he watched the first-years, enjoying the sight of their faces lit up with excitement and wonder as they entered the Great Hall for their first Halloween at school.

It was also Severus' first Halloween as a Hogwarts' teacher. He'd never much cared for the usual holiday hoopla as a student, and he cared for it even less now. But protocol demanded his presence, and so he waited for the Headmaster to begin his welcoming speech, hoping that it would be shorter than usual. Severus was feeling strangely restless tonight, although he wasn't sure why. He looked forward to finishing dinner quickly and retiring to the quiet of his quarters and... Severus groaned, remembering that he was scheduled for corridor patrol later this evening. He thought longingly of the glass of brandy and book that waited for him by his fire. Both would have to be postponed a bit longer.

********

Peter grumbled as he straightened his flat and thought, not for the first time, how nice it would be to have his own house-elf. He didn't know why Sirius had invited himself over, but he couldn't find a reasonable excuse to stop him from coming. The less I see of Sirius, the better, he grumbled to himself. Magically cleaning the dishes that had piled up in his kitchen sink, he wondered when he would be called to his Master's side next, and how richly he would be rewarded for handing over his friend. He smiled, feeling smug. Perhaps getting a house-elf wasn't such a far-fetched idea after all. Yes, perhaps they'd all finally be getting what they deserved!

********

James and Lily had taken great care to decorate their small home in Godric's Hollow for the holiday. They wanted to make it a memorable occasion to banish, for one night, the perpetual gloom that surrounded them. James had worked hard to carve the pumpkins and Lily had conjured colourful wisps of smoke that wafted about the living room like small ghosts, making Harry laugh in delight.

James was sitting on the sofa, gazing intently at his son. Harry was practicing his standing up and falling down, with more of the latter and less of the former.

"What position d'you think he'll play?" James asked Lily, who was in the kitchen fetching two more Butterbeers.

She rolled her eyes. This was one of her husband's favourite topics. "I'm sure he'll follow in your infamous footsteps, and bring glory to Gryffindor someday," she replied, handing James his drink and sitting down beside him. "But I think Harry's keener to try walking before he gets on a broom."

"I can't wait to see him play though," James said with a happy sigh.

Harry had pulled himself to a standing position with the aid of an armchair. Cautiously, he let go of the chair and slowly turned around. His face shone with delight and surprise at finding himself still upright.

"Harry!" shouted James with glee. "Good boy! You've done it!"

Harry beamed at hearing his father's praise, and took a tentative step towards James.

Lily and James gasped and held their breath.

Harry didn't fall down, so he took another one.

"James! He's -- he's walking!" Lily squealed.

James knelt down on the rug and held out his arms eagerly. "C'mon, Harry! You can do it, son!"

Wobbling, but determined to reach his father, Harry inched forward, step-by-step, his own chubby hands outstretched, until their fingertips touched. When they connected, James picked up Harry with a loud WHOOP! and threw him into the air. Father, son and mother laughed and clapped and hugged each other, joyful at Harry's simple yet astonishing accomplishment.

"Just brilliant, son!" said James as he nuzzled Harry's head. "Your first steps on Halloween! That should make it easy to remember, won't it?"

********

Peter had just finished cleaning his bathroom when he heard a tapping sound. He stepped into his living room and saw a raven -- his raven -- fluttering in the night sky behind the glass. Peter's heart flew into his throat. He opened the window and, as soon as he took the object offered, the bird flew off. Peter stared at the Portkey in his hand -- a child's rattle -- and his mind began to race.

Tonight. It's going to be tonight. Yes! This will be perfect. Sirius is coming. I'll leave him a note. It will work.

He quickly changed into some clean robes, then scratched out a note for Sirius and affixed it to the door. Sirius would see it, let himself in to the flat and wait for him to return. Everything ready, Peter picked up the Portkey and tapped it with his wand. "Take me."

A tug, a lurch and a spin later, Peter found himself standing in a cave, softly lit by several cauldrons filled with spiralling fire. Looking around, hearing the distant sound of waves crashing against rock, he recognised it as the same cave he'd been brought to that very first time. Typical of his summonses to Voldemort's side, no one was there. Peter waited, pacing back and forth, as jittery as a hexed pixie.

"Wormtail."

Peter spun on his heel, startled, and then flung himself at his Master's feet. "I am at your service, my Lord. And I bring important news!" he added rapidly, excitement in his voice.

"Indeed? You may stand."

Peter scrambled to his feet and raised himself to his full height, mustering all his nerve, and waited for permission to be granted.

Voldemort conjured a chair and sat down, his gaze level with Peter's. "Tell me your important news," he said finally.

Peter cleared his throat, trying to ignore the fact that his mouth had gone dry. "The P-Potters!" he proclaimed. It didn't come out as confidently as he'd hoped, though. "I know who their Secret-Keeper is, my Lord!"

Voldemort sat up sharply and hissed, "The Potters? Who is it that holds their secret?"

Peter took a deep breath, and spat, "Sirius Black, my Lord--" unleashing his pent-up hatred for Sirius in a torrent. "The blood traitor is a fool and easily manipulated. I'm sure the secret can be easily taken. In fact, I have arranged for him to be at my home tonight. At your command, he can be apprehended this very evening!"

There was a long pause as Voldemort considered this news. Peter waited, breathless.

"You give up your friend easily, Wormtail," the Dark Lord said slowly.

Peter snorted. "He is not my friend!" he said, his voice full of derision. "He is untrustworthy and dangerous. I give him to you gladly!"

Peter felt elated, as if freed from the heavy burden he had borne for so long. Sirius, who had belittled him for years, whose arrogance Peter despised, who had placed James in danger time after time, had to be stopped. The only solution, Peter was certain, was to make sure Sirius could do no more harm. Tonight -- thanks to Peter -- James would finally, truly be safe! Tonight, Sirius would be taken by Voldemort's servants and killed. Peter felt triumphant.

Voldemort regarded him with a curious expression.

He is pleased! Peter returned Voldemort's gaze with a proud smile, welcoming his Master's approbation.

At once, as soon as Peter looked into those dark, red-tinged eyes, he felt the fingers of his Master's mind brutally thrust into his own with alarming speed and force. Peter panicked, realising too late that he was trapped. He tried to look away but found he was frozen in place, unable to move, held prisoner in the grasp of Voldemort's Legilimancy.

No!

Flashes of images flew by, one after another.

Peter with Sirius and Remus at James' parents' house, riding the motorbike. Toasting Lily and James at their wedding. Dinner with Alicia. Peter at Phoenix Farm and the children's birthday celebration.

Rough fingers continued to shred through his memories and feelings, searching, discarding. Digging deeper and deeper and deeper.

No! Stop! Peter tried desperately to block the assault, but his efforts were feeble and useless.

Peter eavesdropping, hearing Dumbledore's plan to invoke the Fidelius Charm. Peter at Sirius' house, sharing whisky. Peter's arms intertwined with James'. A brilliant red glow. Lily's voice, 'Consummatum est'--

"NO!"

The force of Voldemort's spell ending released him violently, sending him crashing to the ground, where he shivered, overwhelmed by the abrupt attack. He suddenly felt sick.

What have I done!

"It seems I misheard you, Wormtail," said Voldemort, in his most menacingly quiet manner. "Who did you say is the Potters' Secret-Keeper?"

Peter opened his mouth to speak, but the ability to summon words had deserted him. His mind scrambled frantically, trying to escape this nightmare. But then, as he saw the edge of Voldemort's lip curl, he realised, with sickening clarity that there was no way out; he was trapped firmly in a web of his own devising. As he dangled helplessly before the spider contemplating its prey, Peter knew that any hopes he had harboured, any future he had imagined, had been shattered in one single, horrible moment.

Voldemort waited for an answer, his gaze unwavering.

Peter trembled, tears springing from his eyes. "I -- I am the P-Potters' Secret-Keeper, my Lord," he rasped, the pain of saying these words tearing through him.

Voldemort stood and slowly advanced on Peter. "And who else knows this secret, my pet?"

"S-Sirius... and Dumbledore."

Voldemort was now so close that Peter could see the glint in his eyes.

"And now," Peter felt a gust of warm breath feather across the side of his face, "tell me where I can find them, Wormtail." The voice was silken. Peter felt it stroking him, encouraging.

For one fleeting moment, Peter thought to refuse. To die protecting James. But, in the next moment, he knew he could not do it. He was not brave. He would never be able to withstand the torture that would come before dying. He was a coward and a traitor.

Tears began to flow unfettered and his heart broke with a resounding crack as Peter handed over the man he loved above all others, condemning him to certain death.

"The P-Potters live at twenty-f-five B-Beacon Lane. In G-Godric's Hollow."

Peter collapsed, sobbing, on the damp floor of the cave. He felt his heart and his mind seize in a pain that he could not stop. After a time, he felt himself being lifted up by his Master's hands. "You have done well, Wormtail," Voldemort said gently, stroking Peter's head. "You have made a great sacrifice and your efforts will be rewarded. Tonight, if you wish it, I will grant you the Mark."

Peter heard these words as if through a fog and he looked up, confused. "The M-Mark?" he spluttered.

Voldemort stood and pulled Peter to his feet. "You have been a loyal servant, Wormtail. I would like you to take your rightful place by my side. Will you take the Mark?"

The Dark Mark? I don't want to be a Death Eater! But... I can't go back. I can never go back. I have nothing. They'll know I'm a traitor. Voldemort is all I have....

He felt himself teeter on the edge of madness, his mind and emotions tossed together in a chaotic whirlwind. But within the vortex of his escalating hysteria, Peter instinctively grasped hold of that one small part of him that was clear and certain and solid: his instinctive ability to fight for his own survival, against all odds. So, with a supreme effort, Peter called upon that ability now, and forced himself to kneel before Voldemort once again.

"I -- I'd be honoured to serve you in whatever way you desire, my Lord." The words came out in a harsh whisper, from an empty place in his soul.

"Excellent, Wormtail." Voldemort said sharply, and moved to the opening of the cave. "And to demonstrate my pleasure with your long and devoted service, I will gather my Inner Circle to bear witness to your elevation." As Voldemort directed the tip of his wand over his head and towards the sea, his voice rang out-- "Morsmordre!"

Together, Master and servant watched skull and snake take form in the night sky, and the shimmering reflection of the Mark dance on the water below. Then, returning to his seat, the Dark Lord smiled indulgently at Peter as they awaited the arrival of his faithful Death Eaters.

********

The pain seared through his arm sharply, and Severus watched helplessly as the phial he'd been holding dropped and shattered on the ground.

"Severus! Are you all right?" Poppy Pomfrey rushed to his side and vanished the remains of the potion and the phial with her wand.

A group of Slytherins had decided it would be a lark to add a bit of whisky to their pumpkin juice in celebration of the holiday. After a few too many glasses of 'juice,' however, several students found themselves on the verge of alcohol poisoning, and the new Potions Master found himself escorting three of the idiots to the hospital wing. Since anti-intoxication potion was not a routine part of the infirmary's formulary, Severus had been forced to fetch the remaining phial of the potion from his own, personal stores.

And now, with the Dark Mark burning and the last bit of potion gone, Severus had to return to his laboratory to brew a new batch.

"I'm fine," Severus answered the Matron through gritted teeth. "It won't take long -- perhaps an hour -- to prepare more." He swept out of the hospital wing at a run. The fire in his arm would not abate until he appeared at the Dark Lord's side. Since he'd taken up at Hogwarts, he found that his Master was mostly 'forgiving' of Severus' tardiness when called. He hoped fervently that tonight would be one of those nights.

********

Sweating, dizzy and disoriented after the ritual, Peter was dimly aware that he was being helped by several of the masked Death Eaters who had gathered to watch him receive the Dark Mark. One helped him into a chair. Another produced a salve and poured a coating on the inside of his left arm, which was still raw and throbbing. A third helped him into his robes. A fourth handed him a goblet of water to drink. They moved in silence, with an ease and competency that spoke of long experience.

When their ministrations were complete, they all stepped back into a semi-circle. The cave was silent, filled only with the sound of waves crashing against the rocks below. After a long moment, Peter felt another, more familiar, hand stroking his head.

"We welcome our newest servant, Peter Pettigrew, also known to us fondly as 'Wormtail,' into our Circle," the Dark Lord declared to the gathering. "He has been rewarded for his long, personal service and tonight, for bringing the Potters to me."

Excited murmurs broke out among the group. "The Potters?" "They've been found?"

"Will we go for them soon, my Lord?" asked one with a deep, resonant voice.

Voldemort held up his hand and the cave fell quiet. "I desire to take care of these troublemakers -- personally. Two of you, however, have earned the honour of attending me in this task. One is Wormtail and the other -- well, the other appears to have been detained."

"My Lord," piped up another voice, this one clearly female, "what of the Longbottoms?"

Voldemort nodded thoughtfully. "While I no longer believe they are a threat, they are -- have been close to the Potters, and may yet be useful. You and your husband will continue to keep an eye on them.

"Now, I am eager to depart, so you are all dismissed."

With a wave of his Master's hand, the air about Peter moved with the twisting and swirling of many robes, and the crowd of Death Eaters Disapparated.

Peter's head was starting to clear -- he must have been given an Invigorating Draught, he thought dimly. Suddenly, he found a parchment and quill being thrust into his hands. He looked at them in confusion.

"Although I expect Severus to appear shortly, I feel the need for haste," Voldemort said with evident impatience. "With my prize so close, I wish to claim it as soon as possible. You will write down the Potters' address, Wormtail, and I will charm the parchment to be found by Severus when he arrives."

The jumble of his Master's words began to make sense in his mind. Severus? Snape? Snivellus? Was a Death Eater? Voldemort wanted Peter to go with him to -- No! Gods, no!

His hands shaking violently under the glare of Voldemort's scrutiny, Peter wrote down the Godric's Hollow address. He desperately tried to think of some way out of accompanying his Master. But no idea came. Nothing would spare him. There was no escape.

Voldemort took the parchment from Peter's hands, folded it, and sealed it magically. With a swish of his wand, it hovered in mid-air, surrounded by a bright yellow glow. Then the Dark Lord turned back to Peter, a wide smile gracing his altered face and his eyes glittering brightly. Peter had never seen him so happy.

"It is time, Wormtail. Let's pay your friends a visit, shall we?"

********

Lily had been asleep on the sofa when the sudden, shrill whine of the alarm echoed loudly in the living room. The sounds of Harry crying only added to the confusion. She jumped to her feet and felt a bit disoriented as she noticed James peeking through the curtains with Harry in his arms. Even in the dim light from the fireplace, she could see that his face had gone pale.

"What--?" she started to ask. He turned from the window and thrust the baby into her arms.

"Lily, take Harry and go! It's him! Go! Run! I'll hold him off!"

Cold, icy dread spread through Lily's body, even as she stroked Harry's back, trying to sooth him. "James... I--" But her mind was blank. She'd envisioned this scene a million times and yet now.... Holding her son tightly in one arm, she flung the other around her husband and kissed him. "I love you."

James nodded, fear and love and determination etched in his face. "Go, Lily!"

The plan was for Lily to run with Harry out the back door, past the Apparation barrier and Disapparate to the Farm. She had just turned to run when she remembered, in horror, that her wand was upstairs in Harry's room! Lily shot one last look at James, who was adding more protective spells to the house, even as the handle of the front door started to turn. Lily tore up the stairs, flung herself into Harry's room and slammed the door shut. Harry was still crying as she placed him in his cot and scanned the room frantically for her wand.

"It's okay, Harry," she said, trying to keep the fear from her voice. "Everything will be okay!" But it wasn't okay. It had all gone terribly wrong.

********

Peter whimpered as he moved up the Potters' garden path, several paces behind his Master so as not to be heard.

"His efforts at protection are feeble," the Dark Lord cackled as he pointed his wand at the Potters' front door. With a muttered spell, the door handle opened easily, and Voldemort walked into the house with a wide smile, as if he had arrived for afternoon tea.

There was an immediate onslaught of spells that ricocheted through the front room. Peter cowered on the path, as the reflection of flashing lights glowed from the inside, and the sounds of his Master's high-pitched laughter and James' defiant, challenging voice rang out. He stood shaking, frozen to the spot. He couldn't go in. He couldn't do it. He couldn't bear to see the look on James' face.

Peter covered his face with his hands. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry," he chanted in endless repetition, his body weaving back and forth in misery.

A flash of green light was followed by a silence so sudden that Peter jumped.

No no no no no no no no no!

He pushed his way into the house and saw James, unmoving at the bottom of the stairs, as the Dark Lord stepped over his body. Voldemort didn't even glance at Peter as he continued up the stairs to the landing above.

Peter knelt down by James and stared at him. There was a sudden crash overhead, but he hardly noticed it.

James' arms and legs were set at odd angles. That's not right, thought Peter with a frown. He straightened out James' limbs until they appeared somewhat normal.

There! That's better!

But it wasn't better. There was something else wrong! Peter screwed up his face as he tried to figure out what it was. Then it came to him: his glasses! He looked around and found them lying on the floor, a few feet from where James lay. Peter picked them up, cleaned them with the edge of his robe and placed them back on James' face. Then he felt in his pockets for a handkerchief and lovingly wiped off some blood that ran down from James' forehead. He tried to push some hair out of James' eyes, and he laughed when it bounced back into the same unruly mess.

"Sorry, Prongs," Peter giggled, "but your hair is just hopeless!"

********

Where was it? It wasn't on the changing table where she thought she'd put it. Her heart raced madly and she gasped for air as though she'd been running--

Lily's heart lurched as she heard James yelling, and the sounds of destruction coming from the room below. A cackle of high-pitched laughter rang out, making Lily want to retch.

WHERE IS MY BLASTED WAND!?

At last! She saw the edge of it poking out between the seat and the back of the rocking chair next to Harry's cot.

She grabbed it up and quickly pointed it towards the door. "Colloportus!"

Lily rushed back to her son, hoping beyond all hope that there might still be a way out. The window! she thought suddenly. She could open the window, escape and send a Patronus for help! But as she leaned over to pick up Harry, a terrible silence descended over the house. A horrible chill swept through her body.

"JAMES!" she screamed, and as she whirled around, the door to the bedroom blasted off its hinges and fell to the floor in front of her with an ear-splitting crash.

"Expelliarmus!"

Her wand was gone. She looked up to see it in the hand of Lord Voldemort, who stood in the now-open doorway smiling -- a ghastly, horrible smile.

Lily's breaths came in short, harsh pants, each one lancing her heart with pain. Tears fell from her eyes as she reached back to make sure Harry was there, the feel of his warm body giving her courage. She straightened and stood like a sentinel between her son and the man who meant to kill him.

"It will be all right, Harry," she whispered. "Don't move, love." Against all reason, Harry's cries receded into a soft whimpers.

With one hand still on Harry, Lily's other had reached reflexively for the locket that hung beneath her jumper, feeling the cool, reassuring weight of it against her skin.

"Mrs. Potter. At long last!"

Lily noticed the wizard's breathing was laboured and, even in her grief, she felt a jolt of pride that James had fought hard... he'd done everything he could. Now it was up to her. It was simple, really. She just had to make sure the magic was triggered.

"Yes, Mr. Potter put up a good fight," Voldemort said, as if reading her thoughts. "But the fight is over now." He began to move towards the cot. "You know what I want."

Kill me, you inhuman monster!

"Not Harry, not Harry, please not Harry!" she pleaded, planting her feet firmly on the carpet.

Lily concentrated with all her might and braced herself as Voldemort lifted his wand, pointing it at her heart.

Yes, you bastard, kill me!

Voldemort wavered; lifting his head and his wand, as if he'd just caught a whiff of something... wrong.

"Stand aside, you silly girl... stand aside, now!"

Lily fought her panic. Had he sensed it? Did he know? She closed her eyes to avoid his seeking gaze and to regain her concentration. When she opened them, her eyes were full of tears and her voice shook with racking sobs.

"Not Harry, please no, take me, kill me!"

Voldemort tried to push her out of the way, but she summoned all her strength and pushed him back. He stumbled and looked astonished.

"Not Harry! Please... have mercy... have mercy!" she begged in desperation.

"You are a fool if you are willing to trade your life for another," Voldemort hissed. For a moment, his eyes bore into hers and she suddenly felt the terrible sharp pain of another child... at another time... another place. But there was no time left to consider its meaning.

"Take me instead!" she cried again, demanding, pleading. Daring.

"I'll take you both!" thundered Voldemort as he raised his wand once again.

A sense of relief and calm came over her as she reached for and felt the soft hair of her young son for the last time.

I love you, Harry!

As the killing curse was uttered, Lily's heart rang out, bursting with love for Harry, for James, for her parents. Holding her love tightly, she felt buoyant and unafraid, even as a flash of brilliant green light erupted from the tip of Voldemort's wand.

********

Wormtail was squatting next to James, muttering and rocking, when another flash of green light at the top of the stairs jarred him back to attention. His Master! He leapt over James and ran up the stairs to the demolished doorway, taking in the scene before him.

Lily was lying on the floor in a heap. She's dead, too, Wormtail thought in a detached sort of way. It was a strange sight to see Lord Voldemort towering over baby Harry, looking at the child in amusement. Harry was standing in his cot, looking back up at the Dark Lord. Wormtail idly observed that, with Voldemort standing in front of him, Harry couldn't see his mother slumped on the floor. That's probably a good thing, he thought approvingly.

"Wormtail," said his Master evenly, as he continued to stare at the child, "you have come just in time to see my enemy destroyed."

Enemy? Wormtail was confused. He'd thought James and Lily were his enemies. But, Harry? What did he mean?

Wormtail stared at James' son, and was surprised when Harry turned and met his eyes.

"Eter!" cried Harry.

Wormtail's heart clenched as he looked at the baby, who was holding out his hand -- reaching towards him! Then he noticed something odd; there seemed to be a faint reddish glow around the boy. It was pulsating a bit, like the echo of a heartbeat. Don't be silly, Wormtail admonished himself. It was probably just a trick of the light.

Voldemort was now bending over Lily. Wormtail couldn't see what he was doing. He didn't dare ask. After a moment, the Dark Lord straightened up, holding a golden, heart-shaped object in his hand.

"That's Lily's locket!" Wormtail exclaimed, recognizing it as the one that Lily had taken to wearing lately. It was open and appeared empty.

His Master held it up as if appraising its worth. "Yes, I think this will serve my purpose nicely," he said with a smile, then broke into another cackling laugh. "A memento of his mother's will be perfect! Wormtail, you will hold the receptacle until I ask for it." Voldemort held the locket out by its chain and Wormtail took it.

He turned it over in his hand, surprised by its warmth, and wondered why there was nothing inside it. When he looked up again, he saw with alarm that Voldemort was pointing his wand at Harry's forehead.

No! Not the baby! Not James' son! No, please! There's no need to-- But the stuttering words remained in Wormtail's head; his mouth was incapable of uttering them aloud.

He watched, mutely, as his Master smiled, eyes flashing red, and spoke the curse one more time.

"Avada Kedavra!"

Wormtail gasped as the light of the killing curse hit Harry squarely on the forehead. But instead of the baby falling over, something else very odd happened. The baby seemed to freeze as the reddish glow that Wormtail had noticed before appeared once again, enveloping Harry's body. There was a flash and, as the glare receded, Harry stood illuminated by an iridescent, golden light.

Voldemort staggered back, confused and alarmed. Wormtail looked back and forth, from the baby to his Master. In a heartbeat, the golden light gathered itself into the jagged wound that glistened on Harry's forehead, concentrated into a single beam, and shot out from Harry like a knife, slicing through the Dark Lord, who fell to his knees with a terrible scream.

Wormtail found himself flat against the wall and watched in open-mouthed, fascinated horror as the outlines of Lord Voldemort began to blur, his features and limbs appearing to fracture and melt. A cold wind seemed to have blown into the room, catching up the pieces of the Dark Lord and transforming him into --something no longer human -- elements that coalesced together in a dark funnel, gathering speed as it turned rapidly in upon itself.

The whirlwind that held the remains of the Dark Lord swept around the room once and flew out through the window into the night sky, a high-pitched scream trailing in its wake.

********

Severus Apparated into a grove of trees that faced a street of simple houses, with nice lawns and picket fences. His white-knuckled fingers were clutching a piece of parchment tightly in his hands, and he frantically scanned the houses looking for number twenty-five, cursing himself for his delay in getting here.

A burst of green light flashed from a second story window a short distance away. Severus knew, with heart-rending certainty that he'd found the house he'd been looking for.

Pulse hammering, he pulled the Invisibility Cloak out from his robes and covered himself. He sprinted towards the house, even knowing that he was too late.

He stopped before the fence that surrounded the house, catching his breath and listening. Suddenly, a horrible high-pitched sound emanated from above, and he felt something -- like a foul-smelling gust of wind -- whip past his head. He gave it only a moment's thought as he walked through the open gate and down the path, trying not to make a sound. Whatever had happened here tonight, Severus wanted to remain invisible for as long as possible.

********

Harry's screams finally brought Wormtail to his senses; the locket having falling from his hands, forgotten. He crept towards the baby, wailing in his cot, unable to make sense of what had happened or how Harry could still be alive.

Well, he won't be for much longer, Wormtail thought sadly, watching the blood pour out of the wound in Harry's head. He looked away quickly, not wanting to think about Harry any more. His eyes landed on a wand. Yew, with a phoenix feather core. His Master's wand. He bent over to pick it up, stroking it for a moment, and then stowed it away, almost absentmindedly, in his robes.

Wormtail stepped out of the room onto the landing and surveyed the scene: Lily in a heap on the bedroom floor; Harry screaming in his cot, blood everywhere; and James, lying as if napping at the bottom of the stairs. Wormtail winced, wishing that the baby would stop screaming so he could think. He had to think!

Think think think think think....

The Death Eaters knew he had come here with his Master. They'd want to know what happened, where the Dark Lord had gone. What could he possibly tell them? That he'd been turned into a vortex of dark matter by a baby who didn't die? Wormtail snorted and laughed. Then he thought of Sirius, and his laughter died in his throat. Sirius would have been by his flat and when Wormtail didn't show up, he'd leave. Where would he go? He'd be suspicious. Perhaps he'd come here! Maybe he'd be here any minute! Suddenly frightened, Wormtail instinctively changed into his Animagus form and scurried down the stairs and out the open door, heading for the darkness of the trees across the street, as fast as his little feet would carry him.

********

The screams from the house tore through Severus, and his heart leapt into his throat.

Lily?

He stood immobile at the door, listening carefully. No, it was a baby's cry. Lily's son. Harry. There were no other voices, no other footsteps. Severus stepped carefully through the already-open door. He was greeted by the sight of James Potter, lying at the foot of the stairs, as if he was taking a nap, except that his eyes were wide open, dull and unseeing.

Severus had often fantasized about James being dead. He'd imagined himself being the one to kill him. Yet, seeing him now, actually lifeless, Severus felt only disgust. The man had been incapable of protecting his family. His wife. Lily.

His eyes glanced up, and he moved cautiously up the stairs, barely noticing the small rat shoot past him, headed in the opposite direction.

As he stepped into the bedroom, Severus froze. He took in Lily's figure on the floor, and Harry's thrashing and wailing. Had Voldemort gone? Had he killed Lily and James and left the boy? It wasn't possible! It didn't make sense! But the boy's cries forestalled any more thinking about unanswerable questions.

Severus tossed aside the Invisibility Cloak and moved swiftly towards the cot. Assessing the wound on Harry's forehead, he cast a spell to knit the flesh together. This staunched the bleeding for the moment, but the oddly shaped injury kept pulsating, and Severus knew the boy was far from safe. He was pale and his cries were growing weaker. He needed blood -- and soon.

********

Hidden safely amid the thick trees, Wormtail returned to his human form. He paced angrily, thinking about Sirius. Sirius should have been the one to die! It had all gone spectacularly wrong and Wormtail couldn't understand how. Yet Sirius was, once again, miraculously safe! The gall of it turned to bile that gnawed through his stomach like poison. Sirius was alive and Wormtail was in danger! They'd all be looking for him -- the Order, the Aurors, the Death Eaters! He had to act fast or he'd be dead or in Azkaban within hours.

Wormtail stopped pacing and stood looking at the house, the door still ajar. He realised, in horror, that there was evidence he had been there tonight! The boy. The boy was still alive. If Sirius showed up soon, Harry might live! He would remember. The boy had recognised him!

Wormtail's heart fluttered so fast he thought he might faint. He took deep breaths. He forced himself to remain calm. He stared at the house, desperately trying to think of a solution. His eyes moved from the roof of the house to the flowerbeds under the windows, and then to the side of the house. He noticed a tall pipe poking out of the ground. He knew about those pipes. He knew them very well, in fact. He was paid to know about Muggle gas lines. They often affected the Floo Network, after all.

Relief washed over Wormtail as he lifted his wand, pointed it at a section of the yard where he knew a connection lay hidden under the ground, and smiled.

********

Severus moved rapidly, afraid that Voldemort or other Death Eaters might reappear at any minute. First, he lifted Lily gently and placed her into the rocking chair; her head lolling on her shoulder, like a rag doll. Kneeling next to her, Severus felt compelled to push the hair out of her face, and when he did, he was startled to see that there was a hint of a smile on her face. Her eyes were closed. If he let himself, Severus could imagine her waking up at any moment and smiling. Her body was still warm as he touched her face. He felt the odd sensation of tears falling onto the hand that held hers-- No! He couldn't do this... think about this now. He had to get them all out quickly.

He stood and picked Harry up from his cot as gently as he could. He was surprised how small and light the child felt. With Harry in one arm, Severus leaned over Lily to put his other arm around her shoulder, so that mother and son were cradled together in his chest. But just as his grip on them tightened, a sudden hot blast pushed him forward, and a blinding white light flashed violently -- before everything went dark.

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

A/N:

Some of Lily and James' dialogue in this chapter is taken directly from JKR's Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, pages 179 and 240, Scholastic paperback, 1999.

While designing the arc of Peter's character in this story, I was excited to find that the wonderful HP essayist JOdel had done a lot of thinking about Peter Pettigrew that supported my own theories. However, it is necessary to credit JOdel with the final exquisite plot twist of Peter's scheme against Sirius and how Voldemort discovers the truth. I hope that I've done it justice in this story. You can read it for yourself in her Red Hen essay, Case in Point: the Pettigrew Puzzle: http://www.redhen-publications.com/Pettigrew.html