Harry Potter What Lies Beneath

Disclaimer: I am not J.K. Rowling, therefore I do not own any of the Harry Potter characters.

Author's Note: 

On 12/18/00, Firecross inquired on the HP Message board here at FF.net about why people don't write much about Peter when they write MWPP stories. True, most writers don't like Peter at all, even though he did not turn on his friends until later in life. Heck, why would James and Lily trust Peter unless he was a good friend? However, most MWPP stories don't bring him out that way (if he shows up at all). Ergo, Firecross asked if anyone could write a MWPP story that made Peter a "full-fledged, meaningful character." 

Here is my attempt.

Warning: This story contains possible **controversal religious representations.** I **do not** support or condone any of the beliefs expressed here. Also I am aware that what is portrayed here isn't necessarily true according to faith. All beliefs, religious or not, are **the characters' only and not the author's.** Their beliefs are what drive their actions, and **all misconceptions are directly linked to their own personality, not because of any prejudice on my part.** Thank you for your consideration in reading this.

WHAT LIES BENEATH

by D.M.P.

Prologue

Peter could not sleep. He sighed and curled up into a little ball, wrapping the sheets around him. It was going to be one of those nights.

Insomnia was something he learned to deal with. Often, he would blankly stare up at the ceiling and wait for sleep to come. He would watch the night shadows creep about the walls of his room. He would listen to the night sounds, the rustle of the wind through the trees. He would feel very alone, very weak, and very insignificant during these times. 

His master, Lord Voldemort, took the main bedchamber, while he took the small servant quarters on the other side of the house. That added to his isolation, like even the Dark Lord didn't want to be too near Peter Pettigrew for so long a time.

Two, three, four o' clock in the morning, if he was still awake, Peter would go out on walks around the Riddle property. He liked the cold night air on his skin, the feel of darkness all around him. To Peter, darkness protected him, hid him under a cover of which no one can penetrate. It made him feel powerful and more superior than he really was. He liked that.

When he did eventually sleep, around the crack of dawn, he had nightmares. He dreamt that James and Lily were not dead, and that they were standing in his very own room. James would be right in front of him: arms crossed, grim frown upon his face, yet with a hint of self-indulgent pride in his eyes. It was the look of triumph. Like the expression one would get after winning a Quidditch match, right before shaking the opponent's hand. The look that tried to show respect toward your nemesis, but on the inside one would be thinking, "I won and I'm better than you'll ever be."

In those nightmares, James would be saying, "I'm not mad at you, Peter. How can I be mad?" Then he'd start laughing as if Peter was part of some big inside joke. Lily was silent, but had a smug grin on her face as she wrapped an arm around James' waist.

"In fact, I pity you," James would say in a jeering tone. "I pity you for the rat you are. Because you're nothing, Peter. You were never going to amount to anything in your pathetic life. You're worthless."

There was a sound of footsteps behind Peter, as if some great creature was approaching him from behind. For some reason, Peter couldn't turn around and face this beast. James and Lily were both laughing now, sharing the joke. Look at Peter, they seemed to be implying. What a chicken! He's too scared even to turn around! Laugh at the horrible, weak Peter Pettigrew, because even though we've dead and gone, we'll always be better than this sniveling fool!

"St- st- stop it!" Peter would shout. He would feel the fear quaking in his heart, and the shame of not even being able to move. "Stop it! Y- you're dead! You can't laugh at me! I'm -I'm the better one here!" Always, in the dream, he would stutter, although he had no idea why. Why should he be scared? Why did he have to be so weak??

However, the laughing would only get louder and louder, and the footsteps coming closer and closer, and Peter was frozen where he was, a simple laughingstock, a feeble rodent.

And always, just when he would scream at the top of his lungs, "SHUT UP!" a hand would clasp upon his shoulder and turn him around.

Peter always woke at that precise moment in a cold sweat, their laughter still ringing in his ears. He was never able to find out who was sneaking up behind him. That fact sent shivers up his spine. Also, the fact that James and Lily could get away with laughing at him from beyond him brought a sort of chagrin, like he didn't even have the power to gain respect from the dead.

Pathetic Peter Pettigrew. That's all he could amount to.

__

But not for long, Peter constantly reassured himself. _When Voldemort's in power, I'll be rich and famous and everyone would be groveling at my feet. I'll be the better man then. Just wait and see. _

Tonight in particular, his eyes refused to close. He didn't feel like going out for a night walk; it was too cold out. And certainly he wasn't going to try some inane Muggle trick, like counting sheep or a glass of warm milk.

In times like these, when midnight was far away and the long hours ahead seemed to loom before him, Peter grew nostalgic. He thought about the times years ago, when he was a student at Hogwarts, and was still friends with James, Remus, Lily, and Sirius. He was part of a group back then. Even though James was obviously the leader and Peter still the underling, he always felt special. Friends tend to make anyone feel that way.

One memory pervaded his thoughts. It was his hallmark memory, the one that stood out above the rest. The prominent one that superseded the tricks Sirius played upon Serverus Snape, or the fun-filled trips to Hogsmeade, or even the making of the Marauder's Map and the transformation into Animagi. It was his Moment, so to speak.

Peter's Moment came to him within an old, crumbling house on the outskirts of Hogsmeade; a dark, shut-in known to locals as the Shrieking Shack...

Chapter 1

Peter was running. Scampering over the stones and pebbles, darting around the trees, down the hill to where James was. His quick rat body was built for terrain like this. It was well into the night, but the moon was out to see by, and Peter knew every nook and cranny around the Shrieking Shack by heart.

His sharp rodent eyes spotted James sitting up in a large oak tree at the base of the hill. There, he usually kept provisions for the group, which consisted of a first aid kit, food and drink, and extra blankets. He and Lily usually were on back-up shift together, but this full moon, Lily suffered from a cold and wasn't able to camp out. James was alone when Peter found him, eating a sandwich.

Quickly reverting into his human form, Peter exclaimed, "He's out!" 

James dropped the roast beef sandwich. It landed noiselessly on the ground below. "What do you mean he's out?" Grabbing a pair of binoculars, he looked over the desolate shack. "He couldn't have! The place is a rock!"

Peter was leaning by the tree, panting for breath. "I-I saw him," he said. "There was some rotten planks somewhere and he broke out. I saw him from my look-out spot."

"Damn!" James grabbed the tree branch he was sitting on and swung down to the ground. "Where's Padfoot?"

"Sirius, he- he," Peter swallowed hard, trying to get his bearings. He wasn't very fit, and even running about in his rat form exhausted him. "Went after him," he said disjointedly. "Trying to cut him off. 'Fore he reaches the village."

"Oh damn!" was the only thing James said in return. One quick shift and suddenly he was in his deer form, a beautiful silver-white stag. James gestured to his back with a nod of his head. Peter nodded, reverted back to his rat form, and quickly climbed on. Taking his usual spot between the antlers, he squeaked, pointing with his tail the direction Padfoot and Moony had left. The deer sprung into action and bounded away.

Every full moon was spent the same way. Ever since Remus had confessed his werewolf identity, they had all agreed to make sure Remus wouldn't put anyone in danger while in wolf form. Thus, James, Sirius and Peter committed one of the most difficult magical acts they could: changing themselves into Animagi. 

Sirius chose the form of a large black Doberman, with the capability of using brute strength equal to Moony's. Peter became the rat, because rats were small and very swift and able to act as a liaison if needed. The stag was James' own idea; for if Moony should ever break out, there had to be some kind of prey to led him back to the Shack. 

Their forms were well-chosen in case of this dire emergency, yet none of them were actually prepared to face the possibility of Moony escaping. Now was the real test of their skills.

Wormtail gripped the short clipped fur desparately, trying to hold on. The air whipped past his face, pushing his sensitive whiskers back. He squinted his eyes, squeaking out whenever Prongs was heading in the wrong direction. Yet his calls seemed to lose themselves to the wind. Prongs was moving faster, faster than ever before, and Wormtail feared that he might slip off and fall down to the rushing ground. His tiny claws sunk themselves deep into the fur. He had to hold on.

Leaping over rocks, cutting past trees, jumping over a bubbling brook, Prongs made his was toward the Forbidden Forest. The woods were a dark mass ahead of them, and Wormtail felt a sudden fear envelope his heart at the towering sight. They never had to go into the forest during the full moon, never! What if some unknown monster was out there, or an hidden pitfall, or some other danger?

"Owwwwwwwwlll!!" 

An animal's wild howling echoed out of the forest, which made only Prongs gallop faster, head-on into the darkness. Wormtail clung for his life.

The woods were thick, filled with crowding trees and heavy underbrush. There, the path through the forest wasn't clear, which made for rough going. Prongs gingerly picked his way through the leaves and brambles, lifting his dainty hooves up one by one. From his high vantage point, Wormtail put himself on watch for either Padfoot or Moony. A quick flash of brown-gray fur was seen in the moonlight. Wormtail squeaked and Prongs turned his head toward a nearby clearing.

Moony and Padfoot were circling each other, both injured. Padfoot had several long scratches along his side that dripped dark crimson. Moony was in no better shape: a rough bite was on his shoulder, and he limped badly. Yet the fighting spirit was in them both. The wolf aimed to break free of his enemy and go down into Hogsmeade, while the dog was prepared to fight to the death in defense. At the moment, the two were at an impasse, with one unable to out-maneuver the other.

Prongs called out in a deep bellow, attracting the attention of both animals. Moony lifted his head and focused on the deer. Padfoot then instantly moved in front of Prongs, as if trying to protect him too. He crouched down low, a deep growl issuing from his throat.

However, Prongs had other ideas. He leaped out straight into the clearing and landed a scant two meters before Moony. Prongs was daring the wolf. He lifted his head up in challenge. "Come and get me," he seemed to be saying. The wolf gave a eager growl in acceptance. Prongs dashed away with the untamed werewolf after him. The chase had begun.

__

James, you idiot! Peter thought frantically. A sudden jar, and his rat claws slipped. He bit into the flesh and scrambled to get a better grip. _Why lead Moony on?? You're going to get us killed!_

But the rat couldn't voice his concerns_. _He could only clung on helplessly as Prongs lead the wolf in a pursuit through the forest.

Out of the forest, past the sleeping village, heading toward the open fields, all flashing past them. The stag cut through the waves of tall grass like a hot knife through butter, with the rampaging wolf crashing through his wake. Wormtail heard the heavy, hurried breath of Prongs, as the buck strained his muscles forward. Looking behind him, Wormtail saw that Moony was devastatingly near. The wolf's jaws were only just out of reach, a few centimeters from success every time it rushed in for a bite. 

Wormtail squinted ahead of him, trying to tell where they were going. The fields soon gave way to small hills on which Prongs climbed with bold gallops and jumps. The mountain rose before then, a dark edifice that appeared to Peter a dead end.

__

JAMES STOP! he thought uselessly. Prongs began to climb onto the smaller rocks and ledges, still going further. The panting, savage wolf was at their heels. Moony was catching up, he was at Prong's hooves, he was nipping Prongs on the tail!

Prongs wildly tried to find a way through the small rocks of the mountain base, trying to turn around and head back toward the Shrieking Shack. But, upon turning, he instead confronted Moony, who was down on his front legs. The wolf seemed to snarl in satisfaction and grin with canine jaws dripping with blood and spit. 

__

We're gonna die, we're gonna die, we're gonna die!!! Wormtail put his little head under his paws and tucked his tail between his legs.

Moony leaped up, a dark form silhouetted in the moonlight and landed right on Prong's side, teeth first.

The force of the collision knocked Wormtail off Prong's head and onto the ground. Hitting flat pebbles, the fall knocked the wind out of him, and Peter lay still for several moments before moving. Weakly lifting his head, he saw the stag and wolf go at each other. Moony locked onto Prongs' side, his teeth sinking into the delicate flash of the deer's underbelly. Prongs kicked and bucked furiously, trying to get the wolf off him. Moony let go, only to pounce again at the large tear he made. Blood was everywhere: the wolf's blood, the stag's blood. The pungent odor reeked in the air around them, coupled with another smell. The scent of Death.

And all the while, Peter was frozen on the ground. He watched the battle with the morbid fascination of an outsider. Here, two of his friends were fighting each other, with one on the verge of being killed by the other, and what could Peter do? He could only watch, too afraid to do anything else. 

Could he have changed back into human form and stop the attack? Possibly. Could he have went off to get Sirius? Possibly. Could he have tried to get outside help from the town? Possibly. And yet there Peter was, cowering in terror at the sight of oncoming death.

Prongs tried his best, but utterly failed. He staggered backwards, blood gushing out of his underbelly. Moony watched fervently, then charged forward to knock the deer to the ground. Prongs fell with a sickening _thud_, baying out in pain. He feebly tried to get up, but his back legs kicked out uselessly. The wolf was at his side and with one quick yank of its jaws, pulled open the fold of stomach flesh and spilled out the stag's intestines.

"Over here!"

A bright glow. Wormtail looked up to see Sirius as a human, holding a lit torch in his hand. The boy's eyes widened in revulsion at the carnage, and he yelled louder. "Over here, wolf!" he cried, waving the torch.

Moony seemed mesmerized by the flame, and stepped forward curiously. "Come and get me!" Sirius yelled. Moony turned back to where the dying Prongs lay. 

Sirius screamed. "Come here, dammit!" He lit a stray twig and threw it at Moony. The burning twig landed on the wolf's back. He cried out in surprise and rolled on the ground to extinguish it. Then, raising his head, he snarled at Sirius.

"Yeah, that's it, get mad at me!" Sirius egged on. "Fight me!"

Wormtail quickly got to his feet and quickly ran over to Sirius' side. He scampered up to the boy's shoulder, then stared at Moony with that same defiant look.

Moony stared at them through hooded eyes. Sirius was backing away, slowly at first, still maintaining eye contact with the wolf. Then, in one quick move, he threw the torch at the wolf, then turned and ran.

The torch hit the wolf full in the face, and he cried out as the heat hit his eyes. He tossed the flaming torch away, shaking his great head back and forth to get the sparks out. Stomping up and down, he killed the fire, then ran after Sirius, his new target.

Wormtail clutched at Sirius' shirt collar. Great, he was still going to die, wasn't he? He saw Sirius' hand reach for him, and wretch him off. 

"Check on Prongs!!" Sirius told him, then tossed Wormtail to the ground. Wormtail landed in the dirt and ducked quickly when he saw Moony. The wolf ignored him, and sailed over the terrified Wormtail without a hitch. Peter sighed in relief as he saw the wolf pass him by. The remembering what he had to do, he scampered off to find Prongs.

James was lying among the rocks and boulders of the mountainside, completely motionless. Wormtail came to his head and pulled on the stag's ear. No response. 

Peter metamorphosed back into himself and kneeled down next to the stag. Cradling the deer's head in his arms, he whispered softly in a scared voice, "James? Wake up."

No response. Peter shivered, even though the night was warm.

"James? James, c'mon, change back!" Peter took the liberty to lightly nudge the buck on the cheek. "James, c'mon!"

He gave a nervous chuckle as panic rose like a lump in his throat. "You must me kidding me James! Moony's gone; don't do this now!"

Nothing.

"James!!" Peter had his hands on either side of the animal, shaking it. He tried not to shake Prongs so roughly, but his panic increased and he couldn't act logically. "Don't do this to me!" Peter bit his lip, feeling the tears well in his eyes. 

Miraculously, Prongs stirred slightly.

Peter breathed out; he didn't realized he had been holding his breath. "Ye gods, you're awake!" he told him. Prongs blinked warily in response. 

"Can you change back?"

Before the words had even left Peter's mouth, James was a boy again, whole and safe, without any sign that he had just been disemboweled. Deer blood made bright red splatters on the ground around them, but James remained unaffected in his human form. However, he slumped next to Peter, being on the border of unconsciousness.

Peter clung to James, trying to support his weight. He thought that James was going to black out then, and he was going to be stranded alone out here until Sirius came back. If he came back. Surprisingly, however, James spoke, in a low tone. "Did we... did we get Moony back...?"

"I dunno..." Peter glanced up toward the direction Sirius had run off to. "Sirius might have..."

"We gotta help him..." James rose unsteadily to his feet. He took a step, then immediately slipped. Peter caught him and put an around James' shoulder. 

"Careful," he warned. "You almost died." Peter thought it was haunting for him to say that. You almost died. Just to say that yet look and see that James was now not close to death at all. The feeling of coming so close chilled Peter to the bone. He also thought about how he was going to let Moony kill him and felt himself flush with shame. Hopefully, James didn't realize the same thing.

The two boys slowly made their way back across the fields to Hogsmeade and the Shrieking Shack. James was weak from the sudden trauma, and Peter was still trembling. At times, James would trip and almost fall down to the ground, and at those moments, Peter would shoulder his weight more and ask, "You want to rest?" Yet each and every time James shook his head no. Peter hoped that they would make it back, but dreaded it too. Wouldn't have Sirius caught up to them now? Where was he?

Peter was constantly on alert, looking around warily, ears open for any sound. He didn't have his wand; it was back at the tree; he was defenseless to any assault. He expected half the time for Moony to be just behind them, stalking them silently, ready to attack. They smelled of blood, Peter knew. If they smelled of blood and a ravenous wolf was out...

Each time the thought came, he just urged himself to go faster, and tried to hurry James up as well. But James wasn't at his normal stamina and slowed them down. It seemed to take them an eternity to get back; in reality it was only most of the hour.

Finally, Peter saw that they were almost there. The dark layout of the Shrieking Shack was just up ahead. Peter helped James back to the tree at the base of the hill. Leaning his friend against the trunk, he took down a blanket from their provisions and draped it around him. "I'll find Sirius," he said. Taking James' wand out from its place in a crook between two boughs, he added, "If Moony ever comes, yell out, okay?"

James nodded and gave a weak smile. "Thanks Peter," he said hoarsely.

"Don't mention it." Maybe James didn't recall how Peter witnessed Moony's attack. Peter felt another burst of relief; he wouldn't know what to tell James if he had asked about it.

Coming back to the shack, Peter looked around. "Sirius?" he called. "Sirius, you here?" 

"Yeah." Sirius was huddled by the side of the building, his arms wrapped around his knees, his head bowed, his wand in hand. "I found the hole," he said wearily. "Near the east side. The wood was all rotten and Moony must have dug up under there to get out."

He pointed to a spot on the other side of the building. Several massive cords were plugged up where the hole was. Sirius must have used a Binding Spell to fix it. Not much, but it would hold for now. 

"And Moony?" Peter asked. 

"Managed to knock him out and drag him back inside." Sirius stared down at his feet, refusing to go into detail. Peter knew how Sirius hated to hurt the wolf, even though he had to. "What about James...?"

"Go see for yourself." Peter pulled Sirius up to his feet and pointed down to the oak. From the tree, James gave a wave. Sirius' instantly cheered up. He quickly ran down to meet him. 

"You bastard!" he laughed, hugging James tightly and clapping him on the back. "You nearly killed yourself!" He was smiling, though, relieved that they were all safe.

"It's part of the job description, isn't it?" James sipped from a thermos of hot chocolate that they brought along with them. Then, he frowned, and a dark look crept into his eyes. "What are we going to tell Remus?" he said softly.

An uncomfortable silence descended upon the trio. None of them knew what to say. 

When Remus changed into a wolf, he had absolutely no control over what he did. The wolf spirit took over his soul and the instinct took over his mind. That's why Remus was so afraid about hurting anyone; he couldn't be responsible for his own actions. If he only possessed a human mind when he was a wolf, like his friends did when they changed into their animal forms, then his werewolf condition wouldn't be so much of a problem. Yet because of his loss of humanity, Remus was a threat. 

Also, because of the wolf possession, Remus barely remembered anything when he was a wolf. He depended on his friends to tell him the truth about what he did. But who could tell Remus what had befallen him this full moon?

James put down the thermos. He hunched over and stared at the ground, deep in thought. 

"We could keep it a secret," Peter suggested. "Remus doesn't have to know." He exchanged glances with his friends. "We can't upset him like this. He might... I dunno..."

"He might leave?" Sirius finished quietly.

"Yeah, that's the word," Peter covered up, taking the euphemism. "He could leave, and none of us would want that."

Another period of quiet.

"I'll have to tell him," James decided. 

"But why?" Sirius asked. "It'll only hurt him if he knows."

"How much more do you think it'll hurt if he finds out we've been hiding the truth?" James countered.

His friends couldn't think of a negation to that.

"I'll tell him," James said, as if repeating it only enforced his decision. He sounded a bit stronger. "I'll just tell him right off."

"I suppose..." Sirius looked to the darkened shack. "And be easy," he said gently. " 'Cause we're not accusing him of anything."

"Of course not," James agreed hastily. "We can't make Remus think that."

The awkward silence continued. Each we thinking of what had to be done, and that scared them more than the actual truth. They would not want Remus taking it the wrong way, or thinking ill of himself. He had always been the most pessimistic out of all of them, and unconsciously, each had to be careful about him not assuming the worst. Especially now, when the situation seemed as delicate as handling a live wire during a rainstorm, to put it in Muggle terms. One drop could ignite a deadly shock; they had to cover themselves carefully.

Peter looked up at the sky. The sky was tinged with grays and pinks. "We have to be getting back to Hogwarts. Almost dawn."

"I have my motorcycle parked down at the village," Sirius said. "I'll go and get it."

The motorcycle was relatively new. Sirius had acquired it over the summer, and even conjured it with the ability to fly. The motorcycle proved to be a great asset to them. Before, the three had to travel using James' CometChaser, which proved to be slow going for three passengers.

When Sirius left for Hogsmeade, Peter looked over at the shack. It was quiet, the infamous howling silenced. He shuddered.

"I want to come back here Saturday," he said suddenly.

"Huh?" James was gathering up their supplies again, tying them together in the largest blanket.

"I wanna come back here," Peter repeated. "Check for any other holes. Don't want it to happen again."

"Good idea." James slung the rough-made sack over his shoulder. He was still very pale, and his grip seemed to slip.

"Here, let me get that." Peter grabbed the rolled-up blanket and double-checked the knot. "You should go to the Infirmary when we get back. Have Nurse Wiggins check you out."

James shook his head. "I'm... I'm just tired."

"Are you sure?" Peter fretted. "Moony bit you after all. What if-"

"I was a stag. It wouldn't have worked then," James cut off. He wiped a hand across his forehead. A sheen of sweat was there, and dark circles were under his eyes. He appeared as if coming down with a fever, but that couldn't be right, since the means did met the end. "Look," he told Peter, "we can't have anyone knowing what happened tonight."

"But why?"

"Because..." James closed his eyes and suddenly grew quiet. Peter put a hand on his shoulder, worried.

"You sure you can make it back?" he asked tentatively.

James nodded as he leaned his back against the oak trunk. "I'll be okay..." he swallowed hard. "But we can't tell anyone."

"Not even Lily?" Lily was a close friend of theirs, the only person who knew of their Animagi capabilities and Remus' werewolf alter ego. She knew everything about them; it would seem wrong to shield her now.

"Even Lily. Especially Lily," James affirmed. "If Dumbledore ever finds out...." He let the sentence trail off, for both of them knew all too well what would happen if Dumbledore found out.

A loud revving was heard overhead. The two lifted their heads to see Sirius floating over them. "Getting on?"

"Gimme a hand there." James reached up and Sirius pulled him aboard. Peter shifted again into his animal form and James carried him up with him. Settling down comfortably, Wormtail tucked himself into James' palm. James was here. Sirius was here. Remus would be okay, once the dawn came. Death didn't come tonight. Peter closed his eyes in relief. Death would never come. They were safe.

__

He was safe.

Chapter 2

"What do you think is taking him so long?" Peter sat on the ground facing the tree. 

"I dunno." Sirius sighed and checked his timepiece. Breakfast started in half an hour. If they didn't come back in half an hour, one of the teachers might get suspicious. Or Lily might worry and do something drastic, like tell Dumbledore. Lily wasn't a tattle-tale, but she tended to fret over things very quickly, and, in the boys' opinion, blow them entirely out of proportion.

"In ten minutes, we're going in there," Sirius said.

Peter nodded and continued his watch over the tree. 

The Whomping Willow's branches writhed and shook, always in constant defense against predatory herbivores that might try and eat its leaves. Of course, no one in their right mind would come too close to a Whomping Willow. That's why it was an ideal and only entrance into the Shrieking Shack. 

James had been in there for the past half-hour, talking to Remus over what happened last night. Peter hoped that Remus was okay. Peter read somewhere that 85% of all childhood-bitten werewolves went insane before age 25, and the one-third of the remaining committed suicide by age 30. A stupid, aimless fact he absorbed. It was a habit of his to constantly pick out certain bits and pieces of information like that, came from reading so much. But of course, Remus wouldn't be as crazy as to do that, would he? Never.

"What happened out there?"

Peter broke his gaze. "What?"

Sirius continued staring out at the moving tree branch. His voice was quiet, contemplative. "What happened out there, Peter? During the chase?"

For the first few moments, Peter was speechless. "Well, you know what happened," he said incredulously. "Moony knocked Prongs down. And... and he-" Peter stopped himself, shutting his eyes. The smell of Death out there by the rocky hills, sickeningly fetid; the touch of Death, recklessly painful; the sound of Death, in howls and barks and dying moans; and the sight, of blood and gore and animal spittle. Tongue lolling out of the stag's mouth, swollen and red, bright black eyes filming up a cloudy white, and ripped muscles and sinew and bluish-brown organs on the dry rocks...

"Peter?" A touch on his shoulder. Peter looked up to see Sirius with deep concern in his eyes. "You're shaking."

"It's nothing." Peter quickly turned away. He found that he was breathing fast, in deep, gasping breaths that hurt his chest. "It just happened all so fast, and it was frightening, Sirius. You couldn't believe how scared I was."

"I'm sorry I asked," Sirius apologized. He too turned away so that they weren't facing each other. "I didn't mean to...."

"It's okay." Peter brushed a lock of hair from his face with a stiff hand. "Death is a horrible thing," he said firmly. "We shouldn't talk about it anymore."

A rustle from the tree, and James' head popped up between a gap in the roots. Reaching out, he slammed his fist onto the knot that froze the tree's squirming limbs and crawled out. He put a hand through the hole and helped Remus up.

"Hey, Rem," Sirius called out, "You okay?"

James had an arm around Remus' shoulder, trying to appear more cheerful than he really was. Remus' head was bent low, so that his brown hair fell over his face.

"Remus?" Peter said quietly. The boy was silent.

"He needs rest," James explained, quickly. "He's just a bit exhausted. We're all a bit fatigued after last night, right? C'mon now, you guys," he went on in falsely happy voice that talked too fast. "We have to get breakfast before Dumbledore is out for our heads." 

"And before Lily's after yours," Sirius chimed in, catching on with the play on enthusiasm. His voice was fake too. 

"Yeah," Peter gave a quick chuckle. "Don't want to suffer another detention with Professor Flitwick."

"Or worse yet, a demerit," James added. "Remember that time we had to hand-scrub the dungeons when we got catch sneaking around after curfew? Took us an entire weekend, and the robes I wore for it still smell."

The three shared an awkward laugh. Remus was unresponsive. This division made the whole scene unreal.

Peter tried to be happy; Remus needed to be cheered up, and they did survive, didn't they? But the dark thought haunted him; it haunted all of them. The sight of Death still permeated their vision, and the silent howls and bayings echoed in their ears. Peter was sure Death was still after them, teasing them, haunting them. Present like the way shadows trailed behind you at sunset, always waiting, always there.

***

Time passed, and things slowly reached a certain equilibrium, just like they always did the days after the full moon. Classes and homework soon kept them all busy, more than at any other time of the month. Usually, they would be spending nights traveling down the corridors of Hogwarts, trying to find an additional passageway for their Marauder's Map, a work-in-progress. Or perhaps sneak into Hogsmeade and snitch Chocolate Frogs from Honeydukes.

Yet for those three or four days, school suddenly became their number one priority. Piling extra credit assignments, cramming late at night for exams, taking as much of their subjects as their brain could hold. School was busywork, a streamlined memorization of facts and dates and spells that put their minds on automatic. Accepting studies became a sort of drug, a relief from the abnormal blip that diverted them each month. Particularly since their last visit to the Shrieking Shack, none of them could think of adventuring or picaresque ventures of any sort.

Peter was the mindless bookworm, spending every moment he could at the library when he wasn't hitting the scrolls. He was not one of those prodigies who spent their idle hours taking mental notes of their textbooks; he read for fun and for the true enjoyment of reading, not for intellect. Reading got him lost and made the world disappear for a little while, the ultimate mental distraction. Everything was palliated in stories: the action didn't really happen, the characters never existed, any blood or death were only words on a page. Everything was only there for entertainment in a tight-knit, controlled environment that Peter could silence with a slam of the cover. The power was almost God-like over these pretend figures. He liked to imagine that he possessed that kind of power.

Remus was usually often up there too. He occupied a certain table in a lone and dusty corner. Peter preferred sitting in one of the armchairs by the windows instead, and so didn't visit Remus in the library often. When he did pass by, Peter was interested to note that Remus had all sorts of religious tomes stacked up around him, with several different volumes open up to various pages on the table. Remus always had a strange infatuation with religion and the basic rivalries of good vs. evil; maybe it was because of his questionable moral nature. Looking back, Peter remembered that despite coming from a devout Protestant family, Remus at the time was quoting from Siddhartha Gautama, saying how he must have been reincarnated into this life and he must seek a way to "break from the cycle." Peter had no idea what the hell Remus meant by that, and frankly, didn't care for things as insubstantial as the human spirit.

James and Sirius scorned the library and avoided it like a place shunned. They were the most active ones of their group, always off to plan, divide, and conquest. Most of their time was spent concocting ways that the four of them could spend their next weekend. Charter a trip into the Forbidden Forest. Explore those locked-up dungeons that were always off-limits. Talk to the resident pictures or ghosts and see what kind of new bits of information they can contribute to their Map.

However, as of recently, James spent a lot of his time recuperating up in the Gryffindor Tower. He had seen Nurse Wiggins eventually, and she said that James was suffering from intense fatigue. 

However, he refused to rest at the Infirmary. James' excuse was that the fatigue must have only been triggered by the rough academic workload he had been taking on and that staying up in his dormitory would be good enough. He was aiming to become Head Boy next year, after all; no one questioned a valid excuse like that. 

If Sirius wasn't in the Tower with James or in visiting the library he hated so much to spend time with Peter and Remus, he was outside on his own. Much of that time was spent with Lily. If Sirius' and Lily's undivided loyalty to James was not unimpeachable, then Peter would have suspected that James' girl could be cheating on him.

At the moment, Peter was busy leafing through several Muggle books. He had developed a taste for non-wizard writers, and liked to read their fantasy, which was only a twisted version of his reality. He often found these stories quite enjoyable. 

Holding copy of _The Once and Future King_ in his hands, he went over to check up on Remus. Lunch break was almost over and their next class Divination was starting up. One of Peter's favorite classes, because he considered fortune-telling but a mystical story-telling, only a type of entertainment some people took seriously. 

Divination was one of Remus' favorites because he always liked to have his aura checked over for any negative forces. He did that so often with the Professor of the class that it was jokingly rumored around school that he had a crush on the elderly woman and wanted Professor Karorac to check out more than his aura. His friends knew it was only because of Remus' obsession with the state of his soul that made him do it.

Passing by his table, Peter was surprised to find it empty. The table was bare and the chair neatly pushed in, as if Remus hadn't even made his daily pilgrimage to the library yet. That was odd.

Making his way up to Gryffindor Tower, he went over to the dormitories to get his needed books and pay a visit to James. 

"Hey there," he greeted as he stepped into the dormitory. "Is Remus around?"

James looked up from his _History of Magic_ textbook. He was determined not to fall behind in class, for his Head Boy goal still apparently a chief aim. 

"No, why?" he answered. "I thought Sirius was going down to fetch you two from the library."

"Must have missed him then." Peter quickly gathered up his scrolls and books. "We'll just meet up together in class. You coming down for dinner?"

"I think I'll be able," James replied. He tossed Peter a blank scroll and his Quick Quotes Quill. "Take notes for me?"

"Sure." Peter eyed the green quill with satisfaction. These things were very expensive to get, but James' family was rather wealthy. His father worked at one of the top Ministry positions, and that's how James got the latest in magical supplies, like that Invisibility Cloak for his birthday a few years back. 

Maybe he could manage to have the Quill take notes for him too. Professor Karorac did have a tendency to ramble. "See you later, James," he called out.

He nodded and gave a little wave before going back to his book.

The North Tower was crowded with students; Peter made it just in time. He was surprised to see that Remus and Sirius weren't there before him. Taking his seat at one of the small, circle tables, he got out his things.

Professor Karorac was an aged lady, who always walked around in the same deep red and orange robes. She had weak knees and used a cane to aid her. Stepping up to the front of the class, she rapped her cane against the floor and announced, "Class is about to begin!"

Peter took out the Quick Quotes Quill and sucked at the tip a bit to get the ink running, before putting it down on a clean scroll. It stood on end, slightly vibrating, ready to write whatever was dictated to it.

"Today, we are going to have someone new in class." Karorac said sprightly, in a voice that betrayed her years. "I am going to retire next year," she continued. The class began protesting loudly with that announcement. 

"Now, now, not immediately," she explained. "I'm be gone the year after you kids graduate; it wouldn't affect you. But I want your class to meet my assistant teacher who has been helping me the last few months. She might the opprotunity of taking my position when the time comes."

A young, fragile lady no more than twenty years old stood up from the seat beside Professor Karorac's desk.

"May I present my assistant Madame Trelawney," Professor Karorac graciously moved aside and shuffled back to her desk. 

Assistant Professor Trelawney seemed to float to the head of the class, and settle herself there like a wispy apparition. She had a sharp pointed face, and her black hair was gathered up in the same tight bun as Karorac's. A pair of large, thick glasses made her eyes appear three times bigger than a normal human's, almost insect-like.

"Good afternoon, class...," she said in a high, trembling voice. "I know that today is the first time I have met any of Professor Karorac's students. Too bad I sense some are missing today."

Some of the students looked around at this random statement, and noted how indeed, three of the students were missing. James Potter, Remus Lupin, and Sirius Black.

Peter sighed. He quickly dismissed it as Trelawney peeking at the attendance sheet. He hated when people tried pulling cheap tricks like that on him. It gave him the impression that they thought he was dumber than he really was.

"But I shall know them soon enough." Trelawney gave a vague smile and continued. "I know that I shall be enjoying helping Professor Karorac, despite the fact that before the term is up, she will take a sick leave for the rest of the year, leaving me as substitute. Pity her already poor health will be jeopardized."

From her desk, Professor Karorac gave a tight smile. Peter wondered if Trelawney was just trying to impress the students, insult her superior, or both. 

"Yet things are still very unclear," Assistant Professor Trelawney said quickly, seeing Karorac's patronizing look. "My training still needs constant enhancement, as are all who possess the skill to see beyond. I had previously been away on journeys through the Astral plane, cultivating my Inner Eye." 

__

She looks like that some part of her is still up there in the Astral plane too, Peter thought. The Quill entertained itself on the paper, drawing an exaggerated caricature of Trelawney as a stick woman with fly eyes. 

He looked around the room. Sirius and Remus should be here by now. Sure, Sirius came tardy to class all the time, but Remus never skipped. 

Peter felt very lonely by himself, and as Trelawney began to expound upon the importance of the obituary shift between Neptune and Pluto, he began to grow bored too. At least Professor Karorac managed to captivate his interest. An hour later with Trelawney still on the same subject, Peter began to feel sorry for future students that would have to suffer under Trelawney's teaching for their Divination learning.

About midway through class, the Assistant Professor stopped her lecture. "What is your excuse, mister?" she asked suddenly.

The trapdoor leading into the room snapped open, and Sirius poked his head through. Trelawney had a stern look on her face, her hands on her hips.

Sirius looked bewildered. "Who are you?" he asked in a rather loud voice. Some stifled giggles were heard about the room.

"I am assistant to Professor Karorac, and you, mister, have been missing class because of something very urgent that you shall not speak about."

"Uh...." Sirius emerged into the room. He was alone. Peter gestured over to his table and Sirius took a seat. 

"Um, yeah...." he said slowly. "That's right."

Professor Karorac waved a hand from her desk, as if dismissing Trelawney's words. "But you're still late," she said firmly. "Fifteen points from Gryffindor. And may I ask if you know where Remus is?"

"He's in the Infirmary," Sirius said hurriedly. "Got sick at lunch."

"All right." Karorac nodded toward Trelawney. "You can continue, dear."

Trelawney's eyes narrowed at Sirius because of his rudeness. "I believe dire things shall happen," she said pointedly. "You and your friends better be wary."

"Don't believe a word she says," Peter whispered to Sirius. "She's another of those posers." Sirius looked like he was going to roll his eyes and agree with him, but Trelawney was staring at them both.

"And this dark cloud particularly falls upon you also, Peter," she added fiercely. "Not now, as of yet, but much later. My Inner Eye tells me that your future appears very dark."

Peter glared at her. She was a quack and Peter decided that he disliked her very much. 

"Yet on with the orbits," Trelawney turned her back away from them and addressed the lesson once more. Peter leaned over to Sirius. 

"Where were you?" he asked softly. "And where is Remus, really?"

"Nurse Wiggins is checking him out." Sirius replied in a hushed whisper. Trelawney paused and Sirius shut up. When she went on, he wrote down on Peter's scroll the words: 

__

Spent the last hour looking for him. I found him in the boy's lavatory.

Lavatory? Peter wrote. He brushed the Quick Quotes Quill aside (it was rather an artistic writing utensil, sketching a picture of the entire class instead of writing Trelawney's words.) _What was he doing there?_

Sirius took awhile to write his response, and Peter read over his shoulder rather than letting him finish first.

__

It was weird. He was staring at himself in the mirror. When I walked in, he held his hand in front of it, like he was touching his own reflection. He was whispering something too, but I couldn't make out what he was saying. The Lord's Prayer, I think.

Peter interrupted with a rapid scribble in the margin. 

__

Converting back again, is he?

Sirius gave Peter a sideways glance, checked to see if Trelawney noticed their silent conversation, then continued.

__

I tapped him on the shoulder and told him we were late for class. He didn't notice me, I think. He was just staring at himself and muttering those words. I tapped him three times before he even bothered to look up.

I told him we were going to be late for Divination again, but I didn't think he heard me. Then he said something in a very low voice that didn't sound like his own.

"Do you know the face of a murderer?" he said.

Peter exchanged glances with Sirius. His head bent down and he bit his tongue, writing furiously, like he wanted to get it all out.

__

"Face of a murderer?" I repeated. "Why?"

"You don't know, do you?" was all Remus said. He couldn't take his eyes off the mirror. "You never know what lies beneath before it's too late."

Well, I told him we had to get back. Remus always has these odd moments; you know what I mean, Peter.

Peter knew. Remus' odd moments. He only witnessed it one true moment during his friendship with him, when Remus ran down the halls, saying that the lambs were after him. Other indirect things happened all this time. Like Remus and his library Bible readings. That was definitely odd to Peter. 

Peter never believed in God. To him, God was just another invention people made up to fool him, like Santa Claus or the Tooth Fairy. Try and trick him into being all regretful and wary, thinking that some big guy in the sky was watching over their every move. Peter couldn't buy that crap, unlike Remus.

Remus also yelled in his sleep sometimes, another indirect oddity. It kept all of them awake, but no one got mad at him. No one really could ever get mad at things he did. When he woke up, he could never remember what he was dreaming about. 

Yet James told them that once, during a thunderstorm, Remus had shaken him awake, saying, "The devil's after me! He said that he'd give me gold for my soul. Tell him I said no, James, tell him!" The strangest part was, however, was that Remus wasn't awake when he said that. He was sleep-walking, and the next day he had laughed when James told him what had occurred.

Peter jotted down a quick confirmation.

__

Yeah, I know.

Sirius went on.

__

I pulled his arm, because we were already ten minutes late, and he was freaking me out. I mean, you know what they say about werewolves...

But Remus wouldn't leave. "We can't see each other for who we really are!" he said to me. "But only who we think we are. Only God really knows! But the rest of us don't. We don't know anything!"

He stared jumping up and down when he said this, and when he finished, he slammed his fist down on the edge of the sink. And then he kicked out at me.

Sirius dropped his quill there. It rolled on the table for a second, then stopped.

__

Kicked you? Peter wrote. When Sirius refused to pick up his quill again, Peter said aloud, "He kicked you?"

"We only scuffled a bit." Sirius' voice was barely audible. Remus was not the type of person who started fights. In fact, when he was human, Remus was always very peaceful. "I managed to pin him down before he could go at me again. Then, he just gave me the scariest smile and said, " 'Beware the wolf in sheep's clothing.' "

Beware the wolf in sheep's clothing. _Remus was being stupid,_ Peter thought to himself after a few moments. _That's just stupid, all this Bible talk._

"He's mental," Peter declared. "Remus has finally gone mental."

Sirius could only nod. "I brought him to the Infirmary. He's not hurt, but he didn't feel like coming back with me."

"And so in conclusion," Assistant Professor Trelawney ended at the front of the classroom, "The orbital switch between Neptune and Pluto this year is a sign of changing identities, or of drastically changing sides." She looked at the class. "For tonight, you shall read chapters 6 and 7 in your _Searching the Stars_ textbook, and report about how this switch affects your astrological sign." She looked at Professor Karorac for approval. 

Karorac had her head down on the desk, snoring slightly. Arthur Weasley got up from his table and poked her in the shoulder. Karorac snapped her head up and looked around. "Um, yes, Sibyll, very nice," she said sleepily. "Class dismissed."

Peter and Sirius got up from the table, books in hand. "We better keep a closer eye on Moony then?" Peter said in a hushed whisper.

"Yeah." Sirius took the silver ladder downstairs. "We promised to him that he wouldn't hurt _anyone_," he said, stressing the last word, before his head disappeared beneath the floor.

Chapter 3

Saturday came without fanfare, and Peter woke up with a fluttering feeling in his stomach. Like he was nervous about something, yet didn't know what.

Climbing out of bed, he changed his robes quickly and checked the grandfather clock in the corner. Seven in the morning. Breakfast didn't start until nine on weekends; he had plenty of time.

Today he was going out to the Shrieking Shack to inspect it for any more potential weak spots. He told James about this, but preferred to see if he could go by himself. Peter wanted to do it alone. Usually James or Sirius did things like this; he wanted to do something important too.

On tip-toes, he crept his way past the other sleeping forms. Sirius snored loudly (a personal fault that he'd never admit to) while James was sleeping with his head under the pillow. Remus had the bed closest to the door and when Peter passed by, he thought that he was asleep too. However, the form on the bed didn't make a single sound, not even the soft breathing noise. On a hunch, Peter threw back the covers. Several robes and pillows were piled underneath. 

"He's gone!" Peter said, so loudly that James immediately woke up. 

"Who?" James looked over at the empty bed. "Not again..."

Sirius was a heavy sleeper, and Peter shoved him to his senses.

"Wake up! Remus's gone!" he said into Sirius' ear.

"What do you mean Rover's not coming home, Mummy?" Sirius murmured. "Did he run off with that French poodle again...?"

"Sirius!" Peter pushed him out of bed. 

He fell in a tangle of blankets with a loud _thump_. "What? What?" he exclaimed, limbs flailing. 

Peter pointed to the unoccupied bed.

"But I saw him at midnight," Sirius said, lifting himself off the floor. "I made sure he was in bed at midnight."

"He could have left after, maybe even the moment he knew we were asleep." James was already changing. He threw the robe over his head and said, "I'm going to check around school grounds, while, Sirius, you take the forest. You know how much he hangs around the forest when he's get like this." 

"What about me?" Peter asked. 

James looked at Peter for a second before speaking. "You stay here in case Remus comes back," he instructed. "And tell Lily if you can."

"But-" Peter protested, yet both boys left before he could have his say.

Peter threw up his hands, frustrated. Why did they always have to do that to him? Having no other choice, he went to the girl's dormitory to get Lily.

Sneaking in, he went over to the bed third from the left. 

"Pssstt, Lil," he whispered. "Wake up." He put a hand on her shoulder. "Hurry up."

One of the other girls rolled over in bed and muttered to herself. Peter froze, cautious, until the neighbor turned her back to them, undisturbed.

"Lily...!" Peter urged.

"Huh?" Lily opened one eye. "Peter," she said hoarsely, "what are you doing here?"

"It's Remus," Peter informed. "He left somewhere."

Lily sat up in bed, rubbing her eyes. "Yeah, Sirius told me how he's been acting strange lately," she said. She ran a hand through her messy auburn hair. "What do you mean he left?"

"I don't know..." Peter said fearfully. "James and Sirius went off to find him." he said. "They told me to stay here with you."

"Well, we can't just let them do all the work." Lily swung her legs over the side of the bed. "I'm going after them."

"You are?" Peter was taken back. "They're probably in their Animagi forms," he said, "You can't catch up to them as yourself."

"You're an Animagi too, aren't you?" she replied. "We'll go together and look for him ourselves."

Why hadn't he though of that before? "Let's go then," he said quickly. Lily grabbed her wand off her night stand, and, still in her sleeping robes, followed Peter out of the room.

"You think Rem's the one of stay inside?" Lily asked as the two descended the tower. "Maybe he's hiding out in one of the classrooms or the lavatories?"

Peter shook his head. "I don't know," he said slowly. "Do you think we should ask one of the house elves? Maybe they've seen him..."

"If he's been in the kitchen," Lily retorted. "But it's worth a shot."

Turning the corner and going down another set of stairways, they went to the entrance hall. The Hogwarts kitchen branched from here, somewhere. Peter, having experience from making the Marauder's Map, guided Lily to a long hall lined with portraits of food items. Coming to a fruit bowl oil painting, he tickled the green pear, which formed into a door handle. Swinging the door open, he and Lily stepped through.

The kitchens were large and very crowded with hundreds of bustling house elves, all preparing breakfast. Vast kettles were bubbling in the gargantuan fireplace and the smells of baking bread and bacon were in the air. A sea of house elves swarmed before them, carrying utensils, dragging heavy sacks of flour, and cooking by the multiple ovens and stoves.

Peter stopped one who was carrying a large baking tin in his chubby hands.

"You," he said, "um, do you know where the nighttime janitorial elves are? We have to ask 'em something."

The elf was more than happy to oblige. "Me know! Me know! Rally lead you to Grimy. Grimy's hall sweeper." He took Peter's hand a swiftly dragged him off toward the far end of the hall. Lily ran to catch up behind them, careful not to bowl any of the elves over.

Relly brought them to near the back halls of the kitchen, where other exits led off to different parts of the school. There was a round, gray-haired elf mopping up the stone floor with a mop twice his height. A soapy bucket stood by his side and he stayed in one place, moving the mop in little circles back and forth.

"Grimy, they's talk to you!" Relly said, dropping them off.

"Thank you very much!" Lily called as he darted back into the crowd.

Grimy the janitorial elf continued mopping the floor, as if he didn't hear Relly. Peter tapped him on the shoulder. "Excuse me," he asked.

Grimy continued mopping.

"Hello?" Peter tried again.

He still didn't look up.

Lily walked over and said into his ear. "Excuse me, sir, but would you please be kind enough to-"

Grimy turned his back to her and started mopping in the opposite direction.

Peter stomped his foot. "HEY GRIMY!" he yelled. "HULLO!!"

The house elf casually looked up and smiled gently. "You call Grimy?" he asked offhandedly.

"Yes. We. Have," Lily said in a loud, measured voice, pushing Peter out of the way so he wouldn't hurt the elf. "Have. You. Seen. Any. Students. Walking. Down. The. Halls. Last. Night?"

Grimy blinked. "What you say?" he asked, putting a hand to his ear.

Lily repeated, "I. SAID. HAVE. YOU. SEEN. ANYONE. WALKING. DOWN. THE. HALLS?"

"Balking from the walls?" Grimy looked puzzled.

Peter screamed, "HAVE YOU SEEN A FREAKIN' WOLF-BOY AROUND THE HALLS??"

"Ah..." Grimy still had that smile on his face, unfazed. "Grimy did see student walk outside when night was here."

"WHAT DID HE LOOK LIKE?" Lily yelled.

"Grimy no see well in dark," the elf said slowly. He put a hand to his chin. "Brown hair, thin, very sad. Carry black book."

"Moony and his Bible," Peter muttered. "WHICH DIRECTION?" he asked.

"Um.... toward the Smashing Tree, Grimy guess," he said. "Grimy not sure..."

"OKAY! THANK YOU!" Lily ended, grabbing Peter's arm. "Let's go!"

Outside, the early morning air was damp and chilly. The sky was gray with overcast clouds and a stiff wind blew. Peter shivered as he and Lily stood outside, facing the tree. Its writhing branches moved like the head of a medusa, its dark broughs out-lined in the morning's light.

"Peter," Lily said, "Could you-"

"Sure." Peter became the rat and scurried past the swooping limbs. Finding the special knot in its truck, he pressed down on it with both paws, freezing the branches in place.

Lily came to the gap between the roots and lowered herself in. "C'mon," she said, and took Peter into her hand. Wordlessly, the two descended into the tunnel.

The tunnel was pitch black and Lily carefully treaded her way through, feeling the ground with her hands. Small stones and dirt covered the tight, cramped space, dirtying her robes and filling the air with dust. On her shoulder, Peter coughed and wheezed, his little rodent lungs gasping for air. He felt as if the tunnel was closing in on him and that they would be smothered to death. 

The tunnel contracted at one point, which made Lily lie down flat on her stomach, tediously pushing herself along with her hands. Peter jumped off her shoulder and scampered ahead, since his body shape was much smaller.

There was no light at the end of the tunnel. Instead, a heavy rough wall of vines and bindings covered up the exit, letting only a few pinpoints of light through to see by. 

Lily curled up in a corner and touched the wall. "Must be that Vine Spell we learned in Herbology," she whispered. Pounding her fist against the mass, she added, "And it's stone solid too."

Taking out her wand, she whispered the reversal spell for it. Yet nothing happened. She repeated the spell, in a more urgent voice, but yielded the same result. The obstacle remained; they couldn't get through.

"He must've double-charmed it!" she gasped. Some earth fell from the tunnel ceiling and she coughed loudly. "Peter, he's trapped himself in!"

Peter ran the breadth of the tunnel entrance, trying to find a crack of any sort that he can slip through in. Lily began beating against the tunnel, yelling out.

"Remus!" she cried. "Remus, are you in there?"

Of course there was no answer. No one could hear them from underneath the Shack floor! 

"Remus!" Lily persisted firmly. "It's Lily and Peter! You've got to let us in!"

Oh, but what if Remus was upstairs? God, what was he doing, sneaking off here in the middle of the night? The questions of doubt and fear plagued on their minds. Lily pleaded to whoever was listening out there. "We're your friends. We have to talk! Come on, what's going on?!" 

Peter curled up into a small corner, shivering to himself. He didn't like the dark, not like this! Not stuck underground in the suffocating tunnel! It reminded him of being some dead corpse, lying cold in the earth. Dead in the earth. Dead, dead in the dark, where the bugs could get at you, and feeding on your rotting, lifeless flesh; where oblivion came, and you turned into nothing but dust....

A familiar stench permeated throughout the tunnel. It was stifling as breathing carbon dioxide, stealing the air from your lungs. It was also the dying bellows of a white stag, and the fresh blood that splattered on the ground. It was also the wolf with his sharp teeth at your throat. Death was here! Death was here and Peter smelled it!

No, no, no, it couldn't be here! Peter's emotions jumpstarted into a panic. He squeaked out, jumping in the darkness. _Protect me, protect me!_ Peter thought wildly to the dark. _Protect me from Death!_ He ran wildly past Lily, away from the end of the tunnel. He jumped headlong into the side of the tunnel where the earth was still soft, and buried himself into it, enveloping himself in the dirt. 

Lily was tired of beating her fists, and the dust choked her voice into sobs. "Oh God..." she said. "Please, please, please be here, Rem...." She looked around and said in a small voice, "Peter? Peter, where are you?"

Only the darkness answered her. Helpless, Lily felt the tears pouring down her cheeks, cutting through the dust on her face. "Peter?" she whispered fearfully. She took out her wand and said, "_Lumos._" The tunnel lit up around her to reveal the drab walls of the narrow tunnel.

But Peter was gone. She was alone.

***

__

Dig, dig, dig, dig! Peter thought wildly, as he burrowed himself through the soft, clinging earth. He little claws pushed themselves forward, pulling himself through the soft soil. They found small stones which Peter wormed himself around. He thought of the massive weight of the all the earth on top of them, and panicked, thinking that he would really be smothered alive. He didn't like this dark, this claustrophobic dark! He liked night, not Death!

__

Help me! he cried out crazily, kicking out even more through the darkness. _James, Sirius, Lily! Death is after us; it's after me! Me, me, me!_

Then, it must have been a miracle that he saw this. A light! A bright piercing point of light, just up ahead. A light up ahead! A candle burning in the face of Death!

Peter tunneled faster through the earth, heading for the light. It was something hopeful and bright and optimistic. Arriving toward the source, he hit hard wood above him. It wasn't the gnarled root of a tree, but the smoothed, cut texture of old lumber. Peter stuck a claw out through the opening and pulled himself up through the hole.

He was on a hardwood floor in a ramshackle room. Old, crumbling walls surrounded him, with the wallpaper either peeling off or ripped off forcefully by animal claws. Furniture was thrown about and broken. The windows were boarded up, with slanting rays of light bursting through the cracks.

Peter had made his way into the Shrieking Shack.

Turning back into human, Peter slumped on the dusty floor, panting heavily. He made it out from underground! He survived!

He never thought Lily, whom he left behind. All he could think of was himself, thankful that he made it out. That he wasn't stuck with that horrible smell of Death around him...

Death... No, wait..! It was still here! Peter raised his head, fearfully. The scent was still in his nostrils, still stopping his heart's breath. Death was here in the Shrieking Shack; Death was coming from here! 

Getting up to his feet, Peter backed away toward the plugged-up hole. 

__

Thump, thump, thump. Peter jumped at the noise and cried out in fear.

A muffled shout. "Peter, Remus, anyone there?"

"Lily?" Peter looked down at the entrance hole.

Underneath the floorboards, she cried out in relief. "You found a way in, Peter!" she gasped. "That's wonderful!"

"Yeah... yeah, that's right," Peter said. "I found a way in..." He didn't tell her the fear he felt, nor Death's presence. "I found a hole I could slip in by," he said. 

"Is there any way you could unplug the entrance?" Lily asked from below. "Is there any other way in?"

"I-I don't think so." Peter felt a small bit of pride burst within him. Look, he made his way out while Lily was still stuck there! "Go back out the other way," he ordered confidently. "Find James and Sirius and bring them here. I'll take care of Remus."

"Good idea," Lily agreed quickly. He heard her shuffle about as she re-oriented herself and crawl out of the tunnel. In a few minutes, she was gone.

Now that she left, he felt the fear creep in once more. He was alone, wasn't he? Alone and trapped with Death.

Peter shuddered and wrapped his arms around himself. Well, this was the time to prove himself brave. Better than James or Sirius...

Gazing at his surroundings, Peter took a shy step and called out, "Remus? Are you here?" For a few minutes, Peter explored the rooms on the first floor, peeking into each one and calling out his friend's name. Approaching each room, Peter felt his heart beat faster at the thought of what may be inside. He feared that Death would be around every corner, just waiting to pounce on him. And so when the rooms turned out empty, he sighed with relief.

Yet the upstairs remained unexplored. Remus had to be up there, if he was anywhere at all. Nevertheless, Peter was afraid to go up the stairs. For he knew that Death was up there with Remus. The whole shack reeked of it.

Timidly, he ascended the stairs, clinging to the banister with both hands. Each step was old and rotting, giving loud creaks and groans when he put his weight on them. One of the especially sagging steps Peter jumped over, for he feared that it might break at his touch.

Reaching the second floor, he said again, "Is anyone here?" He voice quivered; the smell of Death almost made him gag.

A small noise was heard that made Peter turn his head. "Moony?" he asked, coming into the bedroom on his right.

He came to the master bedroom, which was a total wreck. The bed itself caved in on its supports, sending pointed beams of broken frame into the air. The dresser was knocked over, with several of its drawers falling out. Curtains were shredded to bits and pieces of a lamp was scattered about. By the far corner, was the huddled form of a boy. Remus.

"What are you doing here?" Peter asked softly. "We've been worried sick over ya!"

Remus lifted his head. His brown hair fell over his eyes. "Stay away," he said weakly.

"Why?" Peter took a step forward, but then moved back. The smell of Death! It hovered thickly in this room, choking him. He gagged and kneeled over, breathing heavily. Looking up at Remus, Peter wondered if he could smell it. Couldn't Remus smell Death?? If so, why didn't he react to it as strongly as Peter did??

"You did something to yourself, didn't you?" Peter said coarsely. He held his breath and strode forward to Remus. "You're coming with me," he said.

Remus drew out his wand arm. "No," he spat darkly. Red blood dripped from the wand tip. Blood covered the length of his arm, seeping into the sleeves of his robes. 

Peter recoiled. Only then did he notice how damp and dark the front of Remus' robes were, and the soft pattering of something dripping onto the floor. Only then did he notice a clear, thin spread of red in the corner.

"Remus..." he said shakily, "What have you done to yourself?"

"I'm saving you," Remus replied. His voice was barely audible; he was growing weak from the blood loss. "You and James and Sirius and Lily and everyone..." 

"No..." Peter knew he should move forward, but his feet wouldn't do that. He could only shuffle backwards with little awkward steps. Death was in the room; it was after Remus! And Peter wanted to get away; he didn't want to see it again! "Y-you're crazy, Remus..." Peter could only reply. "You've gone mental..."

"You don't understand..." Remus whispered hoarsely. "I have to. Save you from me. God would understand. He knows who we really are, you know."

"Stop it with that crazy talk!" Peter snapped. His vision was fogging up; he could barely see through the tears that pricked his eyes.

"And He knows that I'm evil..."

"No, you're not!" Peter yelled. "You're... you're not evil, Remus..." He hiccuped and gasped. The smell of Death was concentrated and thick. He couldn't stay here, he couldn't stay! Peter fell to his knees, shaking. "Just... just ... don't.." 

Oh, at that moment he wished that someone else would come. He'd know what exactly what his other friends would do. James was much more clever than him; he could reason Remus to go with him and get help. Lily was so kind and compassionate that Remus would have no choice but to do what she said. Sirius... oh, Sirius was so brave. He would just run into the room the moment he found Remus, grab his wand, and Apparate them out. 

But he, he was only Peter Pettigrew, not James Potter or Lily Evans or Sirius Black. Only pathetic Peter Pettigrew, who couldn't do such things, because he wasn't of the same mettle as them!! All because Death was there, and Peter was scared to confront it, unlike his friends.

And yet... did they even know the presence of Death like he did? Peter suddenly realized that maybe, just maybe, his friends _couldn't sense Death_. They couldn't comprehend this feeling that he got! They didn't even realize that Death was there, always watching them! And here was Remus, crazy Remus Lupin, crawling to Death's threshold and banging on the door! He didn't know the danger of Death at all! Only Peter, only Peter was smart enough to know!

These thoughts dawned in Peter's head. He felt absolutely crushed by this revelation. He bawled out loud, his head in his arms, meek and helpless. He was crying not for Remus nor this situation, but for himself and his own knowledge that no one else could possibly understand.

"You idiot!" he screamed at Remus through his tears. "You simple idiot!"

Remus could only look at Peter though dull, glazed eyes. He was almost gone. Death was taking him by the hand. Peter saw this.

"How can you believe in such lies?!" Peter wailed. "There is no God! There are no such things as Heaven and Hell and good and evil! It's all made up, a simple story to fool us!" Peter balled his hands into fists, and banged them against the floor. "Only a trick, you see! Religion's only a story, after all, only a story that people like to read. _But all stories are fake!_ They are only a twisted version of our reality, what we want the world to be!" 

Glaring at Remus through silted eyes that stung with tears, he said, "I know! I read them all and I know that once you close the book, nothing happens! The book is closed, the story's ended, the character's gone in your mind, and that's it! Same with life! Once you're dead, you're gone! The story can't go on forever!"

Remus couldn't refute that; he was already too weak to defend himself. Yet he held he wand up when Peter came closer.

"Don't try... to s-stop.... me," Remus said stiffly. It was getting harder for him to speak. The wand trembled in his grip.

"But don't you see, only Death's the winner here!" Peter exclaimed. "He takes everyone and turns them into nothing! So when you die, you just disappear! You don't live on; there is no where to go to! Just... just oblivion!" Peter waved his hands in the air as he shouted this. "Oblivion proves nothing! So Death is pointless, not noble or heroic or brave! Death is becoming nothing!"

Outside, Peter heard the calls and shouts of his friends. James' voice rung out, "Barge in through the window! Peter, Remus, we're coming!"

Remus turned his head at the shout. The wand slipped from his hand and he fell over.

Peter cried out his name and rushed to Remus' side. Death covered over him with its sickly touch, but didn't hurt him, not yet. Peter brought Remus up into his arms and ordered fiercely, "Don't let Death take you! Because after Death... there's... there's..." Peter shut his eyes tight.

A loud _bang_ was heard downstairs, as one of the windows were broken. Peter could envision James and Sirius climbing through, lending a hand to help Lily up. He could heard the rush of feet pounding up the steps, and Sirius - wasn't that him? - yelling, "For God's sakes, Remus, don't!"

The halt of feet, the stillness as his friends arrived at the door. They were staring at him and Remus, but not really seeing them at all. Death was over them. Didn't they realize that now?

Remus was shaking his head drowsily from side to side. He uttered something that Peter couldn't hear, something about a wolf in sheep's clothing. Then, in the most solid voice he could muster, Remus murmured, "I dreamed... I dreamed that... I sold my soul to the devil. But you never... never knew that, did you Peter...?"

Epilogue

Remus Lupin lived that day. One frantic rush to the Infirmary saved him. Peter was thankful that Remus lived, although Death had settled so thickly upon them all, he thought that it was coming for one of them. Peter supposed he was wrong.

While Remus recovered, the five of them made a pact, a vow of silence. They wouldn't tell Dumbledore or anyone else what exactly happened which led Remus to attempt suicide. It would blow the cover upon them all and their Animagi identity, and news would spread throughout the school about Remus' dual nature. They could never let that happen.

And James added something to that too. "We can't tell anyone," he explained, "because if anyone knew what was going on with Remus, about how odd he acts sometimes, they might lock him up. Bring him to St. Mungo's and throw him in a padded cell. Or... or the Ministry might kill him. They can't allow a werewolf to live if they think he's crazy." 

And so it was settled. Despite all the questioning, no one told anything even close to the truth. Lies, lies, lies - about academic pressure, about chronic depression, about feelings of loss and grief. But all of them were lies. Remus himself didn't even tell anyone about why he had deep scars across his wrists, after the cuts had healed over. They all pretended it didn't happen, and, eventually, people stopped talking about it. It was a secret that everyone suspected the truth of, but was never confirmed. 

Yet Peter knew that everyone, including himself, was effected profoundly by this incident. All of them seemed to grow a little older and little grayer that day. But none the wiser, of course. Only Peter could admit into learning something about himself that day. That Moment he discovered who he really was.

He wasn't brave when he should have been.

He wasn't noble when he had to be.

He wasn't willing to sacrifice himself, to step into play, to stay when the chips were down.

And yet....

Peter was never ashamed of that.

Because - Peter always told himself - he was smarter than everyone else. Because if one took risks like that, one could get killed. And after Death, there was nothing. Peter didn't want to become nothing. In fact, he wanted to become the total opposite of nothing. He wanted to be something. And he did.

With Voldemort.

***

Peter fell asleep earlier than usual that night. He expected to be up until dawn, but managed to drift off around two AM. Then the nightmare came, the moment he closed his eyes.

James and Lily were standing before him and the three of them were outside the Riddle manor. Darkness swept over them, without even the stars to light the sky. A frigid air shook Peter's bones down to the marrow. He shivered, teeth chattering.

"You fool," James said slyly, that same smile still on his face, that daunting look in his eyes. "You are still a fool, Peter."

"N-no. I am not." Peter willed himself to stay in control. The nightmare stops here! He will have his way!

James arched an eyebrow at him. "Oh," he said in a light tone, "and tell me why not?"

"Because," Now Peter gave his own timid smile. He had to beat this, he just had to! "You're dead, James. You don't exist anymore. You and Lily threw your lives away in trying to defeat Voldemort."

"And yet we are still the better people for it," Lily said, speaking up for the first time. "We died for a cause, and when you die for a cause, you never truly die at all."

That made Peter speechless. This was all psychological, only a dream that you control, and dreams you control weren't suppose to tell you something new like that! "Cause?" he said meekly, his confidence slipping.

"Yes, a cause," James had that twinkle in his eye again. The look of triumph. "And we will be immortalized for standing up for own cause, Peter. However, once you're dead, you will be the one forgotten."

"No!" Peter protested. "Things don't go that way! Once you're dead, you're dead..." He looked around to see that they were suddenly in a graveyard. Why were they here??

"There can be nobility through death," Lily countered smoothly. "Because to be able to risk yourself against Death for others is proof to the world that Death isn't totally pointless. For without Death, how can people strive for a better life and for what they believe in? Without Death, what can motivate a person to become something better before it's too late? You know that yourself, Peter. That's what motivates you, doesn't it?" 

True, so horribly, horribly true. But James and Lily were twisting his beliefs, they had to be! They can't be dead and be able to justify their mistakes!

"But why?" Peter exclaimed. "Why die like this? Because after you're dead... you can't continue to change the world...." 

"You can," James said. "We risked it all for our cause, which only made our beliefs stronger. We were willing to die for Harry and for freedom, Peter. Are you willing to die for Voldemort? For your cause?"

Twisting his words! Peter felt drops of sweat run down his forehead. He couldn't say yes, because Death was nothing. He didn't want nothing! Peter felt the panic coming on, the fluttering of the heart and soul. "No, no, it can't be!" he denied. "You're nothing! You can't be something through death!"

But they were right, oh so right with this! What was he to do; he was at an impasse of reasoning!

And then the laughter began. "You'll never be anything," James taunted, the proud laughter coming from him. He and Lily seem to grow bigger; they seemed to tower over him in their greatness. "Because you were always selfish, Peter. You only cared about yourself, and selfishness never improved anything."

"But I.... I will become the better man!!" Peter protested. He was mad at them because they were so right and it wasn't fair that they were. "Because I'm still alive now and can become better. B-but you're... you're dead and can't change at all!"

"But Peter," Lily said in that disgustingly sweet voice of hers, "How can you become better if you only think of yourself? Strength comes through helping the world, Peter, not just you. You never could do that, could you Peter?"

Do something, Peter! Shut them up! But he couldn't. His body was rigid, just as it always was when he was afraid. Just as it always was when he didn't have the strength to do the right thing, to become something better. James and Lily were laughing at him, their voices loud and mocking.

"You were always weak, weren't you, Peter?"

"You were always greedy, weren't you, Peter?"

"You never were able to prove yourself brave, did you, Peter?"

"You never really cared for your friends, did you, Peter?"

Their voices exchanged, one after another, beating Peter down with the truths about himself. The sound of footsteps was heard, footsteps along the lane that traveled through the graveyard.

"You were always afraid, weren't you, Peter?"

"You always tried to justify your faults, didn't you, Peter?"

"You always tried to think of yourself better than you really are, right, Peter?" 

Stop it, stop it, stop it! Peter covered his ears with his hands and began shouting at the top of his voice, trying to drive the laughter away. "I'M THE BETTER MAN! I'M THE BETTER MAN!" he shouted desperately. "You're dead, you're not here, I'm dreaming, it's only a dream! A dream, a dream, a dream..."

"You were always the wolf in sheep's clothing, weren't you Peter??" they said in unison. James and Lily's faces changed, stretching and elongating until they morphed into the faces of demons, of the horned devils that Remus always feared. The demons laughed at him, waving their wands of fire. "The cowardly, selfish wolf in sheep's clothing!" they chanted. "You never know what lies beneath! The pathetic wolf in sheep's clothing! You never know what lies beneath! The _rat_ in _human_ clothing!"

"JUST SHUT UP!" Peter screamed. "I AM THE BETTER MAN!" 

A ghastly thin hand clasped upon his shoulder. The maker of the footsteps. 

Peter was spun around to see who it was. A living skeleton, the skin stretched tightly across the bones. Hair fell out in large clumps on the shrunken head, and pieces of the skull showed through the flesh of its face. The thing had no eyes; instead, glow worms wiggled in the dead sockets.

And this living skeleton was Peter Pettigrew himself, fifteen years dead. 

"I am the better man," the corpse whispered.

"NO!"

Peter eyes snapped awake and he shot up in bed, sobbing and gasping for breath. He put his hands on his robes, and hastily felt himself, to make sure that he was actually here. He pinched his arm and it hurt.

Wiping the sweat from his brow and the tears from his eyes, Peter then collapsed forward, covering his face with his hands. At the window, dawn was just peeking over the horizon. A new day was beginning.

Peter looked up to see the sunrise. Then, slipping out of bed, he came to the window sill. He spread his arms out wide, feeling the sunlight hit his face. Breathing in the cool morning air, he calmed down. For once, Peter was glad that there was no dark night for him to hide in.

His breathing slowed and so did his heart as the minutes passed. Peter could think logically now that a new day was here. Oh yes, this day brought sanity to his world!

"I am the better man," Peter whispered to himself. "I am not the rat in human clothing. I am..," he grasped about for the right words, "I am a king! I am a conqueror!" 

Yes, Peter, keep telling yourself that!

"I am alive!" Peter said in a louder voice. "And it is wonderful to be alive! Death is an abomination! Death proves nothing!" He smiled a little to himself as his liturgy continued. "Death is nothing, James. _You're_ nothing! And so _I'm_ the better man, because I chose to live when Voldemort came to me! I didn't choose to die, like you and Lily did!"

He was on a roll now, the last traces of the nightmare fading from his mind. He could forget his dreams with this renewed determination. Dreams were only figments of the imagination after all. Just like how all stories weren't real. 

"Remus and Sirius and Dumbledore and Harry, they will all choose to die for what they believe in! But I will be the only one left standing, because I chose to live! Live no matter what!" He breathed in deeply. Yes, he will live! That was the only way to exist in this world: to live for yourself only. It was the only way to survive in this rat race called life.

"And I will become powerful and rich, with everyone groveling at my feet. I will become something you will never be, James!" Peter gave a light chuckle, and smiled through his tears. "In the end, _I_ will be the one laughing. The one laughing at you all...."


End file.

Harry Potter, Drama