The Price to Pay

Remus Lupin was in denial. It couldn’t be. It simply could not be. It couldn’t have happened. Not to him.

He never thought it would happen. Ever. Remus knew that there was a war raging. Merlin knew that he had a role in it, being a member of the Order of the Phoenix. He knew that by anyone’s standards, Remus did not live a sheltered life. He had known that people he cared about could be hurt, or even die. Now it was a reality, but his heart didn’t want to believe it…couldn’t believe it. He now almost laughed aloud at the past hope that he might have escaped this terrible war unscathed. Remus had not just been scathed, but burned down to the bone, and his heart felt like a heavy weight in his ribcage.

It had been one week. One week to the day when a man who didn’t even deserve the title of human, much less Lord had shattered his life: Voldemort. Remembering what had happened, Remus realized that Sirius Black was as much to blame as Voldemort. Oh, how he hated that man! To think that they had once been friends was appalling to Remus. Because of Sirius, Remus had lost all those left that he cared about with only two murders. Lily and James had trusted Sirius; he was the godfather of their child, Harry.

Lily, James, Peter, and Sirius. Dead, or as good as dead to Remus. Those were the only people he cared about, and now they were gone. He had so few friends, that it must have been easy for his life to be shattered. Most people who knew his “furry little secret” would not want to associate themselves with him.

Remus had read in the Daily Prophet that Black was taken to Azkaban without a trial under that foul Crouch. Good. However, in the tiniest corner of his heart, he knew that it was unfair, that no one deserved that. But Remus was too upset to see reason now.

He had never known such grief. It was all consuming, made Remus want to join his friends under the ground. He felt detached; as if he was watching himself attend funerals, even do ordinary things like make breakfast, in another’s body.

While everyone else was celebrating, he was in mourning. It just wasn’t fair. All the other people in the world were happy that Voldemort was gone. To Remus, it wasn’t of much importance. So what if Voldemort would never kill or torture again? Remus had no one left to care about He knew he should feel a little happy, but he supposed grieving was the price he had to pay. After all, someone had to be sad when everyone else got the privilege of being happy.

Remus was angry at the world as well. He was angry with Sirius for betraying his friends. He was angry with Peter for being stupid enough to try to fight Sirius. He was angry with Dumbledore for sending Harry to live with those horrid Muggles that Lily had absolutely nothing nice to say about at all. He was angry with all the Marauders. How could they abandon him like this? He now had no one to transform with.

The Marauders had made his being a werewolf so much less difficult. He had resigned himself to being alone for the rest of his life when he first understood what having wolf venom in his body meant and the prejudices people had against half-breeds. His friends had given Remus hope that maybe, just maybe, not all people felt the same way about werewolves. Now he had to deal with that hope being snatched away from him, and again prepare to accept the fact that his transformations would be just as painful as they were before Remus’ friends became Animangi to help him.

He knew he would never recover completely from this crushing blow.

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Sirius knew it was entirely his fault. He had killed two of his bet friends.

How could he have trusted Peter?

Sirius remembered the night when he had gone to Godric’s Hollow to tell Lily and James his idea. It was brilliant. They would switch the Secret-Keeper from Sirius to Peter. His reasoning was that Peter was not the obvious choice, so it would take the Death Eaters more time to figure out whom it could be.

Sirius remembered checking up on Peter at the hideout. Every night, Peter had been there. Every night except that one.

Sirius remembered rushing to Godric’s Hollow to make sure everything was okay. Nothing was okay. They were all dead - all except little Harry.

Sirius remembered the instant feelings of shock, guilt, remorse, and hatred as he looked at the remains of his late best friends’ home. He remembered these feelings so clearly, because he was sure that they would stay with him all his life. He felt hatred at Hagrid, who brought Harry to those horrible Muggles when Harry could have had a home with him. Now though, he supposed that his new home was the cell he was sitting in, in Azkaban. He felt hatred for Peter for betraying James and Lily. But the deepest hatred, Sirius reserved for Voldemort. Damn him. Voldemort was the reason that Sirius would rot beside the Dementors for the rest of his life, the reason Harry would grow up the Muggle way, the reason Lily and James were dead.

Sirius remembered wanting to blast Voldemort into a million pieces.

Sirius remembered deciding that Peter was the next best thing.

Sirius remembered how the stupid rat approached him on the street begging his forgiveness, trying to explain himself, while because of Peter, Sirius was on the run from the Ministry.

Sirius remembered thinking that it would be the perfect opportunity to get revenge. He sent the killing curse at Peter, something he had never done to anything living before. He watched as Peter blasted up the street behind him, cut off his finger, and transformed into the rat he was.

Sirius remembered beginning to laugh as he stood in the middle of the destroyed street, quietly at first, then louder, as he realized the irony of it all. He was charged already with two murders he didn’t commit, and now he would be charged with the murder of the true murderer. So that was how the Ministry officials found him, laughing in the middle of a blown up street, surrounded by witnesses who swore that they saw him kill Peter.

Sirius remembered the Ministry officials telling him that under Barty Crouch’s orders, he was being shipped to Azkaban without a trial. But, that was the price he had to pay, for trusting the rat with the Potters’ lives.

Sirius remembered learning through the newspapers the Minister gave him, that Pettigrew had gotten a bloody Order of the Merlin, First Class for helping apprehend him. What in the bloody hell… how can the Ministry be so damn stupid?

Sirius remembered all this sitting in a cell in Azkaban, surrounded by Dementors and family. He sat across from cousin Bella, who was screaming that someday the Dark Lord would return. Sirius knew that the whole world thought him a murderer, a supporter of Lord Voldemort. Even if there were not Dementors on all sides, Sirius knew he would not be thinking any happy thoughts, for he had absolutely none left in his soul.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Peter Pettigrew ran on pure adrenaline. He wasn’t sure where exactly he was going; all he knew was that he could not change out of his Animangus rat form. His human form was slightly overweight, and not cut out for this kind of running, but his rat form had all the endurance in the world. So he ran, trying to forget.

Peter knew that he was evil: a liar, a murderer, and a coward. He knew that it was entirely his fault that James and Lily were dead. He hated it that no one knew, but also counted that fact as a blessing. Peter needed someone to talk to about the whole ordeal, someone who could understand that he hadn’t done it because of loyalty to the Dark side, but that he did it out of fear. He needed someone who wouldn’t turn him into the Ministry. He needed someone to yell at him, to tell him that that made him a coward. So, he decided to find someone who he knew would never understand, but could yell at him.

Sirius.

What Peter had been relying on was their former friendship. He thought that past friendship was a good enough reason to believe that Sirius would not turn him in. Naively, Peter thought Sirius would not try to physically harm him - only yell a lot. That was not what happened.

Sirius didn’t even bother with the Ministry

Oh no.

Sirius tried to kill him.

Peter didn’t blame him for being so angry. He would have tried to kill Sirius had the roles been reversed. Not that he would have succeeded, Sirius was better than him at everything, especially dueling. When Peter realized that the anger Sirius was feeling was beyond words, he intended to let Sirius kill him. Merlin knew he deserved it.

But that’s not what happened either. Peter found out the difficult way that when one’s life is threatened, they act on instinct alone. He blasted the street behind him, to make it look like he had exploded in the mess. He then cut off his pointer finger, so they would have a part of him to find. Peter transformed into a rat, and started to run.

As Peter ran, he understood that he would never forget the feeling of repulsion at himself when he revealed the location of James and Lily’s home. But he knew that it was the price he had to pay. At least, it was if he didn’t want to be tortured or even killed. Or both. No one was going to try to deny that he was the real reason for James and Lily’s deaths if they knew the truth. Voldemort may have cast the curse, but they would not be dead if it weren’t for him.

So Peter ran, trying to forget about the grave mistakes he had made in his life.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

All of the living Marauders had to pay enormous prices. But which was truly the greatest? The one in mourning for his lost friends, the one in Azkaban for a crime he did not commit, or the one who would forever have to live disgusted at himself for doing something evil out of pure cowardliness? You decide.