To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven. ~Ecclesiastes 3

Fall, 1976

Peter Pettigrew stared at the shiny Head Boy badge pinned to the robes of the most unlikely candidate of them all: James Potter. He knew his mouth was hanging open but he couldn’t help it. James had spent half his career at Hogwarts in detention, and was now given the ability to wield authority over other students? His complete lack of responsibility was being rewarded with the one position where he would need it the most; it was almost unthinkable.

Sirius was laughing; James looked mildly offended at first, but soon grinned. Peter stole a glance toward Remus. Remus had been prefect for two years; everyone had assumed he would be assigned the position of Head Boy. Had his condition held him back? Peter studied Remus’s small smile and concluded that his friend did not seem bothered by being overlooked. In fact, he soon joined Sirius in teasing James about his new responsibility.

Peter did not join them, but turned to gaze silently out the window as the countryside rushed by. He was on his way to begin his final year at Hogwarts, and was disappointed to be starting it with feelings he thought he had mastered years ago: jealously and resentment. He had hoped for one last year of pranks and adventures, one last year of friendship and camaraderie before they undoubtedly went their separate ways after graduation. He did not want it stifled by James’s new position as Head Boy, or shadowed by his own irrational bitterness.

The others did not seem to notice his pensive mood. Remus asked if he’d like anything from the trolley cart, but Peter simply shook his head before returning to his dreary contemplation of the darkening landscape. Soon enough the train pulled into Hogsmeade station, and with a heavy sigh, Peter followed his friends from the compartment and onto the platform.

As usual, he was pushed and shoved in the rush of students returning to Hogwarts and quickly separated from his friends. Uncharacteristically angry, Peter began to push back, dragging his trunk aggressively behind him without caring who he bumped into. He caught up to his friends, only to find one of them already engaged in the first confrontation of the year with their worst enemy: Severus Snape. James and Sirius hated Snape with a passion that drove them to truly cruel behavior. As much as he disliked the greasy Slytherin himself, Peter often found he was glad to be a part of their accepted circle, because James and Sirius made for difficult enemies at best, vicious ones at worst.

Several seventh-years were gathered in a loose circle. Snape stood in the middle, his wand drawn, his face twisted in an evil sneer; Sirius was facing him with an equally malicious look on his own face. Peter wondered what had triggered the altercation, as Sirius looked more angry than usual. As he typically did, Remus was watching from the side; he rarely stepped in to hold back his friends. However, Peter was surprised to see James on the edge of the circle as well, his wand out, but watching warily instead of standing by his friend.

Snape shot a hex toward Sirius, who dodged it easily and fired back one of his own. Snape parried it with a strong Shield Charm, and sent back a vicious stream of purple light. A deep cut appeared across Sirius’s upper arm, and with an inarticulate cry of rage, Sirius began a silent curse in retaliation.

He was stopped before he could complete the curse, frozen in place by James. His stunned eyes looked sideways toward James, shocked at a friend’s betrayal. Peter glanced across the circle at Remus, equally surprised; any normal confrontation would have found James backing up Sirius with a hex of his own, not freezing his best friend instead. James appeared disgusted with himself as the circle of seventh-years began to whisper.

“That’s it, show’s over,� he called. “Head to the carriages, please.� He completely ignored Snape, who watched James resentfully as several Slytherins pulled him away. Peter saw James release the spell on Sirius and speak to him privately. Sirius shoved him and stomped away toward a carriage by himself. James watched him go with a look of sadness that Peter had not seen before. Remus left the circle to console him, but before Peter could join them, he was washed away once more by the crowd as they made their way toward the carriages.

He found himself behind Snape and his gang of Slytherins, who were muttering dark imprecations against both James and Sirius.

“Thinks he’s important now that he’s got a badge,� growled Snape, pushing his lank hair from his face in disgust. “He’s no different now than he was two years ago. He’s still an arrogant prat.�

Peter felt a sudden lurch in his stomach as he unexpectedly found himself agreeing with Snape. James shouldn’t be any different, but he had just acted in a way that was most unlike anything he had ever done. Peter suddenly began to dread the year ahead, should James indeed turn out to be an arrogant prat.

* * *

The wind whipped through the stands of one of the fiercest Quidditch matches of the season. A cold rain had begun to fall from the dark, leaden sky, and students rubbed their arms and blew on their hands to stay warm as they gazed into the dull greyness at the game high above them. Gryffindor was leading Ravenclaw, and the Seekers were circling high above the stadium in search of the Golden Snitch that would end the game and send everyone back to the dry warmth of their common rooms. If Ravenclaw caught the Snitch, the game would end in a tie; Gryffindor needed at least one more goal to assure a victory should their own Seeker miss the prize.

Although Peter sat with Remus and cheered his team, he found his heart was just not in it, and he was disgusted with himself when he tried to pinpoint the reasons. Why wouldn’t he want Gryffindor to win the game? It would be the first step toward reclaiming the Quidditch Cup. Why wouldn’t he want to see his housemates succeed?

He had to reluctantly admit that there was only one housemate in particular that he did not wish to succeed, because the green monster of envy had slowly come to color his vision over the past several months. The crowds cheered hard for James, and each chant felt like a kick in the gut for Peter, made worse by the fact of his guilt for thinking such things about one of his best friends. Yet the entire year thus far had seemed to revolve around James: around his position as Head Boy, his success in class, his ability on the Quidditch field, and finally his long-awaited relationship with Lily Evans. Peter had begun to feel increasingly invisible as he struggled with his N.E.W.T. studies, grappled with his plans for after graduation, and wrestled with his continued feelings of inadequacy and jealousy.

A roar from the crowd shook him from yet another grim reverie; James had scored, putting Gryffindor more than 150 points ahead of Ravenclaw. As the Gryffindors cheered, a collective groan went up from the Ravenclaws at the same time as their Seeker caught the Golden Snitch, thereby ending the match, but with a Gryffindor victory. The students surged from the stands; still caught up in his dark thoughts, Peter was separated from Remus, and ended up at the back of the crowd making its way toward the castle across the muddy grounds. With a sigh, he put his hands in his pockets and walked slowly back toward the inevitable victory celebration, no doubt complete with the James Potter fan club offering their adoration.

Scowling at the ground, Peter found himself roughly elbowed out of the way by the seventh-year Slytherins Severus Snape had begun to hang out with. As usual, they were muttering under their breath about James Potter and his perfect life. Peter couldn’t help but snort as he listened. Snape seemed to hear him, for he turned and glanced at Peter over his shoulder, raised eyebrows framing a questioning look. With a sneer he turned away and began whispering with his friends once more.

Peter felt the momentary urge to hex Snape, followed by the sick realization that he had once again agreed with everything they had said about his friend. Turning away from the castle, Peter ignored the brisk wind whipping through his cloak and made his way down to the black lake to consider where his thoughts were leading. Wasn’t James still one of his best friends? How could he think such terrible things about a man who had been nothing but supportive ever since their first year at Hogwarts?

Peter was highly aware that he might not have any friends if he hadn’t met James, Sirius, and Remus. He had often wondered why they had accepted him as part of their group; but for the first time, he questioned why they continued to associate with him. He was not as talented as they were in class, nor as good at getting in trouble. He had little luck with girls, unlike James, and had little desire to draw attention to himself, unlike Sirius. Were they just feeling pity for him now, after seven years?

Tossing rocks into the chilled lake, Peter tried to tell himself that any problems with his friends, and with James in particular, did not come from them, but from within himself. James could not help it if he was popular, charismatic, and naturally talented at magic; Peter should not hold it against him. In fact, if he wished to lead a similar life, he needed to create it for himself, not languish in jealous resentment while his relationships dissolved. If he wished to be recognized, to be respected, to be accepted, he would have to find a way to do that. He had to, if he wanted to protect his friendship with the most important people in his life.

Determined, Peter walked back toward the castle and the inevitable celebration in Gryffindor Tower. He did not see the brooding Slytherin watching from a nearby window, black eyes narrowed thoughtfully.


Summer, 1977

Graduation had been a blur; not long afterwards N.E.W.T. results had arrived, followed by the inevitable owls from his friends inquiring over his marks. Peter had ignored them, for while he had done better than expected and was personally pleased, still his scores were not nearly as strong as those of any of his friends. He did not wish to hear their false congratulations, when inside he would only imagine them laughing behind his back.

Shortly after his N.E.W.T. results had come the job offers, both expected and unexpected. Peter had been both pleased and disappointed. Pleased with the offer from the Ministry to enter the Department of Magical Catastrophes, disappointed to not be invited into Magical Law Enforcement and Auror training. He had instead been offered an entry-level position in the Invisibility Task Force: the irony almost made him laugh.

Peter had accepted the offer and begun training in the complex spells, charms, and potions used to hide various magical creatures and places from unsuspecting Muggle eyes. His charm work had greatly improved over the course of seventh-year, for when Lily Evans had started dating James, she had also become part of their small group, and had offered Peter a good deal of advice in Charms, her strongest subject. He had therefore managed to rate an Outstanding on his N.E.W.T.s, one of the key requirements in joining the Invisibility Task Force. His potions work, however, had improved only minutely, and he had barely scraped an E in the N.E.W.T.s, the minimum requirement for the Task Force. Peter had little difficulty with the charms involved in his training, but found the potions work difficult, and quickly began to doubt his choice of career.

Yet he was happy to find work, for Remus Lupin was still struggling to find steady employment, given his condition. Though not widely known, he could not keep his secret from employers, and had bounced from job to job, hoping to find the one employer who would accept and support him.

Sirius, of course, did not work. He had inherited a good deal of money from his Uncle Alphard and was quite comfortable living on his own. Peter suspected he had already begun working for Professor Dumbledore’s resistance group, the Order of the Phoenix. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named had continued to gain power since they had graduated, and Sirius had a deep loathing for Dark Magic and all that the Death Eaters stood for; it was one of the reasons he had run away the previous summer, and Peter suspected working for the Order channeled some of Sirius’s feelings of unresolved guilt over the matter.

James had also joined the Ministry, though he had taken the position with the Magical Law Enforcement Squad which Peter had hoped for. It seemed he had enjoyed his position of authority as Head Boy and wished to continue in a similar vein after graduation. He was rising rapidly in the department and there was little doubt he would soon begin Auror training. Peter had to reluctantly admit that James had accepted his responsibility as Head Boy and lived up to his potential during seventh-year, earning his success; but once again he had bested Peter, with a better job and better prospects, and the loss stung.

A month into his training with the Ministry, Peter found himself making his way down the streets of London on an errand for the Task Force. He was quickly approaching Knockturn Alley, and pulled the hood of his robes over his head, not wishing to be seen. Though it was a clear, warm August day, as he entered the dark alley the sun seemed to shrink and a chill seemed to fill the air. Peter scowled at his unpleasant duty: to secure a measure of illegal Demiguise fur for a potion needed by the Task Force. Unfortunately, Knockturn Alley was the only place for such contraband.

As he walked, he wondered how many of the wizards and witches perusing the shady and sordid wares of the street were followers of You-Know-Who. It had become increasingly difficult to know whom to trust as scores of followers pledged allegiance to the Dark Side, willingly or not. Peter’s hand curled around the wand in his pocket as he stopped in front of a run-down apothecary shop, took a deep breath, and entered.

The dark-haired wizard behind the counter was deep in conversation with a second wizard who had pale blond hair; they were speaking softly but intently. Peter nervously wandered around the shop, looking for the item he needed, half-listening to the exchange behind the counter as he waited his turn. He heard the words “the Dark Lord� several times, and felt his heart start to race; surely they were Death Eaters, to be speaking of You-Know-Who in such a way.

Finally the blond-haired wizard turned to leave the shop. Peter was startled to recognize Lucius Malfoy, a Slytherin who had been several years above him at Hogwarts. Malfoy sneered as he brushed by Peter. “Out for a stroll, Pettigrew?� he asked mockingly. “Without your keepers?�

Peter flushed and turned his back as Malfoy laughed and left the shop. Another cruel grin stared at him from the pointed face behind the counter: Severus Snape. Seeing the look of shock on Peter’s face, Snape laughed as well, his dark eyes glittering over his hooked nose. “Well, well, well. Peter Pettigrew. What brings a Squib like you down our dark alley?�

Peter swallowed his anger, knowing an outburst – even one provoked – might cost him his job. “I need some Demiguise hair,� he snapped.

Snape raised his eyebrows. “And here I thought you had already disappeared after graduation. Need a little extra help then?� He sneered, his black eyes glinting cruelly.

“It’s for work,� Peter bit out, still holding his temper in check with great effort.

“You actually found a job then? You’re not lounging around in idle laziness with Black?� He bent down, pulled a large box from a cabinet, and slid it with disinterest across the counter. “Or are you tagging along after Potter and his Golden Snitch, fetching his tea?� He laughed again, and Peter bit the side of his cheek so hard he tasted blood.

“I’m on the Invisibility Task Force,� he ground out, opening the offered box. On first glance it appeared empty; on second Peter could see hundreds of long hairs lying within, catching the weak light just right, just barely visible.

“Comfortable remaining invisible, are you?� said Snape nastily, as Peter scooped out a handful of hairs for purchase. Peter felt his face flush again; he hadn’t missed the irony of his first job either. To have it rubbed in by the likes of Snape only made it worse. Snape rang up the Demiguise fur; Peter handed him several Galleons to pay for the purchase, and then turned to leave without another word.

He could feel Snape’s eyes on the back of his neck, could imagine the greasy git planning his next insult. He hurried toward the door, but could not escape the inevitable. “Don’t lose track of your purchase, I’d hate for the Ministry to realize they’ve hired a complete dolt to safeguard their secrets. Perhaps Potter can help you keep track of it, since he seemed to enjoy watching over his inferiors so much last year.�

Peter pulled out his wand and fired a Stinging Hex toward Snape. The Slytherin ducked easily and the hex shattered a large bell jar behind the counter, spraying glass and a foul liquid over the floor. Peter braced for Snape’s counterattack, breathing heavily. Instead, Snape smiled enigmatically and raised a thin eyebrow; Peter defiantly met his stare.

“My, touchy, aren’t we? I’m sure your supervisor will be pleased to know his newest employee enjoys attacking innocent shopkeepers and destroying their property. Perhaps even Potter will be sent after you.� He Summoned paper and parchment from the back room and Peter knew that Snape would be reporting his actions to the Ministry. Without looking back, he stormed out of the shop, Snape’s cruel laughter ringing horribly in his ears.

He had been with the Ministry for barely a month, and already he had screwed up. And not because of his skills, but because of his temper. He had let Snape’s cruel jibes get to him. In school he might have served detention; he did not know what the consequences would be now. Could he lose his job already?

As he hurried back toward the Ministry, he silently cursed Severus Snape and his vindictive remarks. Yet deep down, a quiet voice also cursed James Potter, once again the deeper cause of his resentment and jealousy, and possibly the cause of his undoing.


Spring, 1978

The ceremony had been beautiful: James and Lily had been married outdoors surrounded by friends, family, and flowers. Sirius stood up as best man, naturally. Peter did not begrudge him that, as James and Sirius had always been close. Still, he had felt left out, though he did his best to hide it. It was, after all, a day for celebrating James and Lily and their new life together.

The celebration had lasted long into the night, and so it was after midnight that Peter made his way down Diagon Alley toward the flat he had recently rented. It was close to his job at the Ministry, a place where he could escape the drudgery of his daily life and contemplate all that he was missing, alone. It wasn’t as big as Sirius’s place, or as nice as the new home James and Lily were moving into, but it was his, and somehow he had earned it. Thinking of his friends made Peter snort, and on a sudden impulse he turned toward the Gasping Whale for one last drink before heading home.

The new pub was still bustling at the late hour, with patrons scattered throughout the dim room in various stages of drunkenness. Located on the edge of Diagon Alley just steps from its seedier brother, Knockturn Alley, the Gasping Whale tended to attract a mixed clientele at best. Tonight seemed to be a more questionable night than usual, as many of the patrons huddled under long cloaks in the corners, whispering secrets only they could hear. A smoky haze clouded the air, and a feeling of dark plotting hung heavy alongside it.

Peter made his way toward the bar, where he ordered a Firewhisky to erase the last of any ill thoughts he might still be harboring over what was supposed to have been a joyful day. He made his way toward a single table in the back and nursed his drink as he once again pondered the disappointing reasons his friends’ success always seemed to bring out his old feelings of jealousy and resentment. As usual, he felt guilty for his thoughts, remembering a time when he had sworn to stamp it out by creating the life he desired. Instead his life continued to be one of unvarying disappointment, with a dead-end job and no one to share it with.

The table behind him ignored Peter’s arrival and continued their quiet conversation. As it did so often these days, the talk seemed to center around the continuing war with He-Who-Must-Not-Be Named: on the mindless violence and tragic murders that plagued the wizarding world. Yet these speakers did not seem perturbed, and when Peter heard them whisper about “the Dark Lord� he knew he had once again stumbled onto a group of Death Eaters.

Something inside him moved him to listen closer. He told himself he could pass on any information he gleamed to the Order of the Phoenix, now that he was a full-fledged member himself. Yet another part of him was simply curious about what drew these men to Dark magic, what moved them to become Death Eaters.

He found himself more and more interested as they spoke of the Dark magic they studied, and the power You-Know-Who promised them in using it. Peter had always shared James and Sirius’s intense dislike of Dark magic; yet these men spoke of it almost lovingly, as something that brought them power, respect, and the ability to control their own destiny. Almost subconsciously, Peter leaned backward, tilting his head as he continued to sip his Firewhisky, heart pounding wildly over both what he was hearing, and over the fact that he was brazenly eavesdropping on some very dangerous men.

Suddenly he felt his hair yanked backwards, and fell over to land hard on floor at the feet of Lucius Malfoy. The pale-faced man stared down at Peter with a sneer on his face. “Spying, Pettigrew? You’ve certainly done a lousy job of it, haven’t you?� The other Death Eaters at the table laughed, including Severus Snape.

Peter glared at Malfoy as he stood, breathing deeply as he felt his face flush with anger, annoyance, and fear. “Shove off, Malfoy,� he snapped back, suddenly tired of being taunted and teased. “I’m just having a drink.�

Snape stood and joined them, narrowing his eyes at Peter. Peter glared back, wondering why he seemed to keep running into Snape and finding himself in an ugly confrontation with the former Slytherin. Snape finally looked back toward Malfoy with a shrug.

“He’s certainly not a spy, Lucius, he can hardly cast a Silencing Charm,� he said, his voice acerbic. “I think he may have been listening for his own reasons, actually.�

An unidentifiable look passed between the two men, and Lucius inclined his head as he returned to his table. Snape took several steps closer to Peter, and lowered his voice.

“You were listening, and we both know why,� he said, his voice low and sly. “You’re interested, even if you won’t admit it yet.�

Peter felt his insides twist with guilt, and not for being caught; he glared at Snape with as a hateful a look he could muster. “You’re wrong. I was on my way home and decided to stop for a drink, I’m not - �

“And that’s why you’re here, listening to private conversation, when you should still be celebrating with the happy couple?� Peter twitched at Snape’s mention of James and Lily. His surprise must have shown on his face, that Snape would know of the wedding, for Snape shook his head with a rueful laugh. “It’s hardly a secret, the Ministry’s most up-and-coming Auror marrying his school sweetheart. Feeling left out, are you?�

“The party was over,� Peter growled, trying to ignore the nerve Snape had hit with his uncanny insight. “And no, I wasn’t feeling - �

“Why is it that you get so angry every time someone mentions James Potter?� Snape interrupted abruptly. “Last time we met you attacked me for it. You’re practically dripping with bitterness right now. Do you actually resent your friend’s happiness? Or have you finally realized what the rest of us did a long time ago: James Potter is an conceited ass who doesn’t deserve a lick of what’s come to him?�

Peter struggled with a response. His mind screamed that Snape was wrong, but he felt the familiar resentment squeeze at his heart until his chest hurt and he could not answer. How did Snape know just what he was thinking, how he felt? How did he know exactly what to say to push Peter deeper into the abyss he was struggling to avoid? What if James found out about his conflicting thoughts?

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell Potter,� said Snape as if he were reading Peter’s mind. “However, you might want to rethink your life if you are so dissatisfied with how it’s turned out Perhaps you heard something tonight that may help.� Snape paused to let his words sink in. Peter almost felt nauseous as he immediately understood Snape’s meaning – and worse, found himself considering it. “You know where to find us if you’d care to hear more,� Snape whispered seductively.

Before Peter could retort, Snape whipped out his wand and sent him flying over the table. The group of Death Eaters behind him laughed, as Peter picked himself up amidst the debris of the chair he had destroyed in his fall.

“That was for the last time we met – and until we meet again,� said Snape with an ironic bow, and returned to his table to join in the laughter.

Peter was tempted to pull out his own wand and curse Snape in the back; but he was smart enough to know that he would never survive against a table of Death Eaters, let alone an entire pub full of dubious customers. He reluctantly turned his back on them and stomped toward the door. He threw the barkeep an extra coin and stormed out into the night, his thoughts boiling, his leg sore where he had landed awkwardly on the floor.

In his mind’s eye, he kept replaying Snape’s table of Death Eaters laughing at him. Had they been at Hogwarts, it would have been he, James, Sirius, and Lupin laughing at Snape. The reversal stung, and Peter was unreasonably angry that his friends had not been there to defend him. Instead they were out celebrating their more successful lives. Irrationally, Peter wanted to be at that table with the Death Eaters, laughing at some poor sod caught eavesdropping. He was tired of being laughed at, and pictured James Potter being thrown across the table as he taunted his friend from the center of a new group of powerful, respected comrades. The guilty thought burned a hole in his chest, and with a choking sob, Peter hurried down the empty street toward home, dark thoughts strangling his memories of what should have been a happy day.


Winter, 1979

Peter left the party early, begging out with the excuse that he had promised his family he would stop by before midnight. James and Sirius raised their glasses and toasted him farewell as Lily walked him to the door. He could hear the beginning of an old wizarding tune as they serenaded him as well. He couldn’t help but smile, though he grimaced inside, feeling left out. Next to him, Lily laughed and rolled her eyes.

Peter wrapped his cloak tightly to ward off the chill night air. Snow was falling once more as Lily opened the door. To their surprise, Remus Lupin stood on the steps, his hand poised and ready to knock.

“Remus!� Lily exclaimed, taking his hands and pulling him inside. Snow fell from his shoulders as he shook himself off and removed his cloak. “We’re so glad you’re finally here!�

Remus kissed her on the cheek with a tired smile. “So am I, Lily,� he replied warmly, then paused to listen to the odd sounds drifting in from the living room. “Although it seems I missed a good deal of the party.�

Lily laughed again. “They’re celebrating a bit early,� she said, a smile coming to her face. “For good reason, though - we’re expecting.�

Remus’s eyes widened in surprise, and he looked toward Peter as if hoping to confirm the good news with a second party. Peter shrugged, irritated at being forgotten once again. Remus turned back to Lily and embraced her tightly. “Congratulations!� he exclaimed, stepping back. “I’m so happy for you.�

Peter coughed, ready to leave as he had already offered his congratulations and did not wish to suffer through another round of baby talk. Lily turned back to him and embraced him. “I’m sorry, Peter. Must you really go now that Remus is here?�

For a moment Peter wavered; but temptation won out, and he shook his head, because he had made his decision and wouldn’t let Lily Potter stand in the way of achieving the life he had hoped for but failed to find so far. “I’m sorry,� he heard himself say, hoping he sounded sincere. “I really must go.�

Remus held out his hand and Peter shook it, feeling the genuine warmth in the gesture. Once more he was tempted to stay, but then he heard Sirius and James singing drunkenly from the other room and felt the constant bitterness push him toward the door.

“Happy New Year, Peter,� said Remus as they parted. “I hope it is a good one for you.�

“For you as well, my friend,� replied Peter, and he meant it. He swallowed the disgust he felt over his hypocrisy, and hurried out the door into the cold night without looking back. When he reached a safe distance from the house, he turned and Apparated, reappearing in Diagon Alley. He quickly made his way toward the Gasping Whale, his heart beating faster.

As he approached the pub, he noticed immediately that it had deteriorated since the last time he had been there. The paint was peeling, the sign was crooked; its appearance no doubt mirrored its continued bent toward suspicious clientele. Since his initial run-in with the Death Eaters after James and Lily’s wedding, Peter had returned twice, hoping to hear more about the power of Dark Magic that attracted so many Death Eaters to You-Know-Who’s service. He had felt guilty and ashamed, and yet couldn’t help himself: it was as if it was the only answer, the only way to be accepted, respected, and even powerful. Though several Death Eaters continued to patronize the pub, he had not met Snape or Malfoy, and had not been back in several months. He had kept his ears open, however, both at work and on the streets, and had heard whisperings of a possible meeting that night, a siren song now drawing him inside, hoping to find what he was looking for.

Entering the pub, Peter felt his breath catch as he immediately noticed Severus Snape in the corner, sipping a glass of wine, but very much alone. He was facing the door, and inclined his head as Peter met his gaze. Peter ordered a Firewhisky, as he always did in the Gasping Whale, hoping to settle his frazzled nerves. Taking a deep breath, he drained it in one sip, ordered a second drink, and resolutely made his way toward the table where Snape waited.

“I thought you’d come back one last time,� offered Snape, raising his glass in tribute. “Looking to start the new year right?�

“I’m looking for answers,� Peter replied, suddenly uncertain. He had played the scene hundreds of times in his mind, planned out everything he wanted to say. Yet looking into Snape’s pointed face, he found his resolve crumbling. This man had spent seven years at Hogwarts engaged in constant clashes with James and Sirius; he was arrogant, cruel, and dabbled in Dark Magic. How could he, Peter Pettigrew, be having drinks with such a man, when he could be spending the night ringing in the new year with his friends? What was he doing?

“You’re looking in the right place,� said Snape, once more seeming to read Peter’s mind.

“Tell me more,� demanded Peter, draining his second glass and motioning toward the bar for a third. He felt his nerve failing him, and was on the verge of running from the pub; yet at the same time he couldn’t resist the lure of the power he was sure Dark Magic could offer him. He pushed aside his doubts once more, and leaned toward Snape. “Tell me why.�

Snape raised his eyebrows and took one last sip of his glass before setting it down. He seemed to be studying Peter, and with two drinks now warming his resolve, Peter met the other man’s gaze easily and steadily. The barkeep delivered his Firewhisky and quickly left them to their conversation.

“You already know why,� answered Snape, standing and tossing some money on the table, enough to cover both his and Peter’s drinks. “I can show you how.� He motioned toward the door. Peter took one last gulp of Firewhisky and stood, his face flushed with fear and excitement.

“Where are we going?� he asked, following the one man he never thought he would follow from the pub. They turned toward Knockturn Alley and quickly met up with several other hooded wizards. Peter’s mind screamed at him to run away, to turn back while he still could, yet he felt locked in place with the desire to be a part of this new group, who were gaining power and could surely offer him the life he wanted. “Where are you taking me?�

Snape drew a hood over his face, leaving only his glittering black eyes shining through the hollow holes of a Death Eater’s mask. “To find your destiny,� he answered, and he took Peter’s arm for a Side-Along Apparition.

“Where?� Peter repeated, wanting to wrestle his arm from Snape’s clammy grasp but unable to find the will to do so. He had made his choice to follow and could not turn back now: he would go where they took him, to find what he was seeking.

“To meet the Dark Lord,� said Snape, and with a quick turn he Apparated. Peter did not even have time to panic before he felt the crushing compression overtake his body. He would not have panicked had he been able; he was committed to a new path now, and was ready to serve a different master to gain the life he desired.

With a gasp, he reappeared in a dark room and was thrown roughly to the floor. Glancing up, Peter saw that he was surrounded by Death Eaters, each of whom was now kneeling toward a central figure sitting in a throne-like chair at the front of the room.

“Welcome to the other side, Peter Pettigrew.�

With a thrill of horror, Peter looked up into the face of Lord Voldemort, and knew his fate was sealed.


* * *

A/N: This story was written for the One-Shot Challenge on Peter Pettigrew. The prompt was to write his turn to the dark side. Many thanks to mugglemathdork/Ritta, who was such a wonderful plot beta for this rather spur-of-the-moment piece. Thank you for your help, it was invaluable! And thank you to J.K. Rowling for leaving Peter’s character slightly open-ended so we could fill in his story. I hope you have enjoyed this look at the Marauder who betrayed his best friends.