October 24, 1981

A stout, short of a man walked into a dark room. It was actually light outside, but the owner of the room had the curtains pulled down. He walked up to the small bed that lay against the farthest wall. Sighing, he looked down at the frail creature that lay in the bed.

She seemed to be sleeping, her mouth slightly open. She was an overweight woman who looked as if she had a kind personality but with the strange hollowness surrounding her, she was actually eerie looking. The man, deciding this wouldn’t do any harm, sat on the end of her bed. He reached over and grabbed her hand, tears subconsciously going down his plump cheeks.

He had to tell someone. It was just overwhelming him. Too many choices were plaguing his thoughts for a while. Good or evil, pure power or pure love. He just was too confused and chose what seemed right at the moment.

“Ma,” his voice came out a squeak.

“Ma, I need to tell you something,” he took a deep breath, “I… Um. Well,” his voice faltered. He wasn’t quite sure how to start off. For some reason, his mother being present unnerved him but he had to do it. And now was the perfect time because he had given her some medicine that would have her out for at least a few hours.


Peter looked up at the mansion that stood before him. It had a dark mysterious feeling around it, vines crawling up the two-story mansion. Some of the windows were boarded up, the glass missing. The paint seemed to showing it’s under color and the house creaked with the wind. Peter swallowed deeply, he wasn’t so sure of his idea now.

“Get going, you filthy rat,” a man behind spat. Peter was shoved towards the house. He looked behind him; surprised to actually see who the person was beneath the mask. Lucius Malfoy. Lucius snarled at him and shoved him again. Peter this time stumbled and didn’t stop moving afterwards. Peter then grabbed the handle of the door but as soon as his hand touched the knob, he had received a burning sensation that slowly moved up his arm. Whimpering, he tried to pull back, but his hand seemed to be stuck. Sweat trickling down his forehead and back; he desperately tried to let go. Behind him, he could hear laughter behind him but he drowned it out with his deep breathing. With his free hand, he pulled out his wand and muttered a password that first popped into his mind, “Expelliarmus.”

Nothing happened.

Panicking, the burning past his elbow, he racked his brain, cursing for not paying attention in school. “Looc Bydo,” he said, a spell that he had learned from James. The burning stopped at his arm, as the rest of his body cooled down.

“Enough playing around, you fool,” a wand pointed at the door and Peter heard Lucius hiss something. Peter’s hand then had been set free and it hung limply at his side. He brought it up to his chest and used his other hand to hold it up as Lucius opened the door.

“Come on,” Lucius push him in to the house. He fumbled around; no lights were on, so he walked like a blind man. “Lumos,” Lucius said and Peter followed pursuit. There was scarcely any furniture around except for a table that lay against the walls. And it looked as if no one had stepped place in this house, dust was settled on the floor, the tables, even the walls. They suddenly stopped in front of a door.

Lucius opened to door and threw Peter in then slammed the door shut. He whirled around, facing the door, beginning to regret his decision.

”So you have news of the Potter’s?” a cruel voice came behind him.

Peter swirled around quickly, his heart almost leaping out of his chest. In front of him stood a mahogany desk with an impressive evergreen chair. “Y-yes sir.”

The chair turned before him, revealing the mystery voice. Peter gasped at whom he saw. It was Voldemort himself. He had deathly pale skin, coarse black hair and red slits of an eye. Peter started trembling in fear. This man that was before him was extremely powerful and took no mercy. He had to play his game right. Which meant he was all on his own.


Peter cleared his throat, “Ma, I did something horrible,” he sniffed loudly, “I betrayed my own friends.” That last part came out as a whisper.

“I told… Ma, promise you won’t stop loving me when I tell you this. Promise me,” he squeezed her hand tight, “I-I told You-Know-Who about James and Lily! I did it!” Peter then broke out crying, “I told him where they lived. I don’t really know why I did it too! I mean they had me as their secret keeper! Can you believe it Ma? They trusted me enough to be their secret keeper! James refused to have Remus and Sirius as their secret keeper! And it was a total surprise when James and Lily asked me, no, told me to be their secret keeper.

“Imagine how happy You-Know-Who was when I told him. No, never mind. I don’t think you should think about him being happy. The only thing that makes him happy is the pain of others,” Peter let go of his mother’s hand and let out a shaky breath.


”Tell me.”

Peter bit his lip.

“I said tell me,” he said coldly. Voldemort rose from his seat, withdrawing his wand.

Peter broke out crying, “I-I-I can’t!”

“You fool,” Voldemort pointed his wand at Peter, “Tell me now or your pathetic life is over.”

Peter gasped, “The P-P-Potter’s are at… Gro… Gor… Godric’s H-Hollow.”

Voldemort snarled, “Typical Gryffindor,” he spat.

He surely couldn’t have been talking about him. What he had done was low and he knew it. What had he done? Or started?

“Crucio,” Voldemort hissed at Peter.

Peter screamed in pain and misery, his whole body on fire, his bones rattling. Shortly after, the curse was lifted and Peter was weakly surprised to find himself on the floor curled in a ball. Voldemort was standing in front of him, his black robe flowing on the hard floor, smiling at the lump in front of him.

“Stand up,” he hissed.

Peter pushed his self up and wobbled in place.

“You have showed yourself worthy. Pull up your sleeve,” he ordered.

Peter whimpered as he slowly pulled up his left arm sleeve, showing skin. Voldemort smirked and put his wand on Peter’s arm and hissed a chant.

Peter cried out, tears flowing freely as blood flowed down his arm. As soon as Voldemort was done, he turned around and walked out of the room, leaving Peter staring at his arm. The blood had stopped bleeding as soon as the chant was done and Peter could make out the black scar. It resembled a skull with a snake coming out of the mouth and an eye socket. Peter shivered and made his way out of the room, holding his upper arm. He had ratted the Potter’s out. He was now officially a Death Eater.


Peter rubbed his arm, wincing at memories, “Ma, I have to show you something. The reason I am showing you now is because no matter what you will still love me, you fool.” Peter rolled up his sleeve and looked down at the raw tattoo, smiling, “He gave me this you know. You-Know-Who did this to me. Many say that I am lucky to have received such a complement from him because most others just got the mark from Lucius and Severus together.” Peter looked back at his mother, his happiness leaving quickly and lips trembling, “It was horrifying. But you know what Ma? I am proud of myself. I have moved out of James’, Sirius’ and Remus’ shadow. I am myself. I am now stronger than them!” Peter stood up from the bed and peeked out the window, little light managing to shine through.

Peter turned around, and sat back down on his mother’s bed. His eyes had grown use to the dark and he looked around the bedroom. There were a few knitted blankets on the floor and the bedside table was crowded with pictures of his youthful self, smiling. “Do you see what your son has come to? I am nothing now. I am only a Death Eater. I am no longer your son, no longer the Marauders, no longer a human. I am just a Death Eater. You-Know-Who’s slave. I am wasting in front of you and you just lay there, sleeping!” he yelled.

Peter looked at his wristwatch and jumped from his mother’s bed, “Look at the time! Sirius is supposed to come around and check up on me. I suppose I should go and clean up my house. Though not like it should matter. He always comes up with ways to insult me,” he finished darkly. Peter stomped to the door but stopped before leaving. He slowly turned around, facing his mother.

“I screwed up. You always said that I was a screw up and now I have proved your point. I'm sorry,” he whispered, “I love you, Ma.” Peter turned and closed the door softly, making the room pitch dark.

What Peter didn’t know was that his mother had not taken the potion. Instead she had thrown it down the toilet and pretended to fall asleep. She had heard the whole thing and now she just lay there, crying. Her son was a failure. A loner. A murderer. A Death Eater. She had failed her life.

She sat up and pulled her wand out from underneath her pillow. This wasn't supposed to happen to her. Now, there was only one escape.

"Oblivisci."