When he got home, Peter sat down on the hard wooden chair in his sitting room, shaking and chewing on his lip. Why did James have to do it? It should’ve been Sirius. Everyone had expected it. Sirius was James’s best friend; they had done everything together since they’d met during their first year of Hogwarts. Not even Remus had been as close to them as they were to each other.

So why had James asked Peter to be his Secret Keeper?

Peter rocked back and forth, staring at the empty fireplace in front of him. He’d had to accept the offer once it was made. The Dark Lord would kill him at the very least for passing up such an opportunity, and Peter held no illusions about keeping secrets from him. Maybe one of the others could, but he had never been as brave as they were. They had to know this. They had to have seen, all the years they were friends. And still....

Sirius had been there when it had all happened, staring at Peter with those dark eyes, expecting impossible things. Peter had heard stories and seen things none of his friends suspected. He was afraid, and now nothing could be done about it. He had been made Secret Keeper in time to betray them. Tonight was the night he would come, and Peter would have to tell him.

**********

The mass of sweeping black robes, faceless entities wielding wands, all tinted in green by the symbol hanging in the air above them bore down upon Peter, who stood frozen before them. He could not move; his mind was in shambles. A few wands lifted together, as if the mob operated on one mind, and time slowed such that Peter watched the glows slowly forming on the tips of the wands as their wielders gained the strength to kill.

Something heavy smashed into him, and time raced ahead. He was knocked to the ground and watched as his old friends, the ones who had always protected him against bullies at school, protected him once again against something far worse. The two figures in front of him held back the faceless crowd until others could join them to drive them off, and ashamed of his cowardice and fear, Peter scrambled over slick pine needles and soft autumn leaves, away from the battle, away from his friends, away from any chance he had of redeeming himself.

The shadows were harsh in the forest, lit from one side by green brighter than the moon, casting sharp shadows on the ground. He did not see the figure in black until it was too late.

**********

A branch clacked against the roof outside, and Peter jumped, staring at the door for several moments before he realized no one was there. Why did this have to happen? If only he could tell them. Peter winced. The Dark Lord did not accept betrayal, and aside from that, Sirius had never been very forgiving. He would never understand. He took his courage for granted. He didn’t know what it felt like to be terrified of anything, and Peter admired him and hated him for it.

He had no choice. He had no one to turn to. The Order of the Phoenix would hate him for betraying them, and the Dark Lord would kill him for the same. With the choice between those two, he knew which one he preferred.

Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. The Dark Lord was supposed to reward those who helped him, right? And he had been after James and Lily for a while because they had caused him so much trouble. With this information, Peter would be honoured among the Death Eaters.

But James and Lily would be dead, whispered a Peter long lost from the war, a younger Peter, the Wormtail his friends had known.

A happy James and Lily, caring for their son. They were doing what Peter could not, and now they would be killed for it. All because Peter couldn’t defy the Dark Lord. Because he had run away. And now he was taking the easy way out.

No. It wasn’t easy. It was the hardest thing he had ever done in his life. But he had no choice.

**********

“Now, you have a choice,� James said quietly to Sirius, standing back from the bar at the Hog’s Head. “Do we want to use firewhiskey or mulled mead?�

“Firewhiskey has a better effect—�

“—but a stronger taste. He might figure it out before he downs it all.�

“Couldn’t we Transfigure it or something?� Peter put in tentatively. “Make the taste what we want it to be instead of what it is?�

The other two stared at him for a moment, then split into grins. “Brilliant idea, mate. You go get Moony, and we’ll get the firewhiskey.�

**********

Peter jumped out of his chair as if it had burned him. He watched as the doorknob slowly turned and swallowed, trying not to squeak with fear. He was here....

One last chance to run. One last chance to hide away in the hopes he could give them the slip and run to Dumbledore. Dumbledore would understand. If he could only make it there, maybe he could have some kind of chance. Hatred or death? Betrayal or torment? He stood still as stone as the door swung slowly inward. Indecisive. Too late.

Again.

The robes whispered darkly as the figure stepped in and the door slid shut. With only the light from the fireplace, the figure looked faceless, as they always did, shadows and fear lurking underneath the hood instead of a face. Peter stepped back, stumbled over the leg of a chair, and hastily tried to regain his balance. A female cackle cracked like a whip across the room, and he flinched. A different person this time.

“Hullo, pretty,� she purred, stepping forward. He bumped into a table this time and could go no farther. “What do you have for me?�

Peter stuttered and stumbled for a moment before he could get his tongue around the words. “J-James and Lily Potter.�

“The Potters, he says.� She continued to advance, and Peter’s fear grew with every step. “How interesting. Last I heard, they were under a Fidelius Charm.�

“I’m their S-Secret Keeper.�

“Really?� she drawled. “I suppose you should meet the Dark Lord, then, if this is true.�

“It is! I swear!� His palms slipped on the table, though he held onto the edge with a white-knuckled grip.

“All right, pretty. I’ll believe you ... if you prove it.� The shadows seemed to smirk at him, now close enough to touch. He cowered away from them, not daring to take his eyes off her. “Just tell me where they are, and if you’re right, I’ll take you to him.�

Peter hesitated for the blink of an eye. This was his last chance to back out. His last chance to save his friends. “The Potters live at 32 Hubbord Lane. Godric’s Hollow.�

He looked away as the words left his mouth.

She did not speak another word, but a shiver passed through him from the gaze of her unseen eyes, and with a crack that made him jump, she disappeared. Peter sank slowly to the floor right where he was, putting his head in shaking hands.

“I’m sorry.�

Gone. Everything was gone.

Peter stumbled blindly through the Muggle streets, hoping desperately that it would give him some cover. The first place they would look was his house, so he’d Apparated away from it, but Apparition could be tracked by the Ministry. At least he thought he remembered that from school. Maybe not. But better paranoid than dead. Or in Azkaban. He shivered, walking faster and nearly tripping over a bench.

Nobody knew him in the Muggle world. No one could see him and call the Ministry. They would know by now. Sirius had known. As soon as he’d seen the ruins of the house, he knew what would happen. The worst thing possible for Peter had happened. James and Lily had died, but the Dark Lord had lost his powers. Now, it was worse than just being a spy. He chewed on his lip. James and his wife were dead now. It was Peter’s fault. He had killed them. He’d been the Secret Keeper, so there had been no other way for them to have been found.

I killed them.

Sirius would think the same thing, and now, Peter had no Dark Lord to protect him.

Dumbledore. Dumbledore was his last chance. Maybe he would still believe that it wasn’t supposed to happen that way, that Peter had had no choice. The only problem was making it to Hogwarts. He couldn’t Apparate there. He didn’t dare Apparate to Hogsmeade. They might suspect he would try exactly what he was doing, and there could be people there. It was an all-wizarding community, so a big scene with magic wouldn’t require any cleaning up.

No. For now, he was safer in the Muggle world. If he didn’t use magic, they couldn’t trace him, and they would be more willing to try and negotiate with him instead of attacking him right away. The Ministry didn’t like making messes in the Muggle world: too much time and effort to clean up.

But Sirius didn’t care.

Peter looked around nervously. Sirius was just the type to come after him without telling anybody. If he did.... Peter had never been a match for him. If he showed up, if he came alone, Peter would have to find another way out.... He knew Sirius wouldn’t listen. Sirius would probably be mad with grief that James was dead.

So, why aren’t I?

He shook his head, his fingers nervously twiddling with the fabric over his abdomen. He would think on that later. Right now, he had to find someplace safe. The safest place was wherever Dumbledore was. Peter could only think of two places he might be around Halloween: Order of the Phoenix headquarters or Hogwarts. The former was suicide. That left only one.

Peter didn’t really believe Dumbledore would forgive him, but events were spinning out of Peter’s control. At every turn, he was presented with only one choice, all the other alternatives too horrible to contemplate. No matter where else he ran, he would eventually be found, and if he wasn’t killed, he’d go to Azkaban. The thought of spending every waking moment remembering he had caused the death of his first friend at Hogwarts, unable to think of anything else....

“Hullo, Wormtail old mate,� hissed a voice down the street behind him, a horribly familiar, threatening voice.

Peter jumped and turned, eyes wide. “Sirius....�

“You look surprised to see me,� he said smoothly, walking forward one step at a time, his wand held casually at his side. He looked as lazily handsome as he always had. The same dark hair. The same laid-back, confident stride. Only his face was screwed up beyond attractiveness, the grey eyes glinting madly. Peter saw death in those eyes.

He backed away, his hands slipping behind his back. “O-Of course I am,� he muttered, trying to buy time, his mind flashing desperately through options.

“After what you did, I’m shocked,� he spat. “Did you think I wouldn’t know? That we’d be stupid enough to think that with the Fidelius Charm it was someone else who betrayed them?�

He had nowhere to go. Sirius would have him completely cornered in a moment. Peter tightened his grip on the wand behind his back, biting his lip. His eyes darted around the street, at the Muggles passing by with their own business, ignoring the two of them.

“I hope it was worth it, Peter,� Sirius said grimly, lifting his wand.

“I can’t believe it!� Peter suddenly said loudly, his fear making his voice tremble. “How could you?! Lily and James.... They’re dead now! How could you!� His knuckles were white around his wand as he cast a nonverbal spell behind him—something, anything to make it look like Sirius had attacked him. He jumped at the disproportionate sound of the blast, his hand catching the last of it on his wand and slicing off his index finger. The pain didn’t register, though, because Sirius was trying to catch him. He squeaked, the sound morphing halfway through as he shifted into a rat and ran away as fast as he could.

Sirius gave chase, trying to curse him or Stun him. Peter slipped in among a group of rats at the sewer, pushing and shoving madly through them, shifting into the flow, disappearing out of sight of the street. He heard Sirius start laughing over the sounds of all the rats around him. The sound reminded him of the Dark Lord, when Peter had told him where to find the Potters.

He slipped down into a dark corner to hide, shivering, still able to hear the echoes of Sirius’s laughter. He had gone mad. Peter stood crouched there in the dark, listening to the rats around him and the faint laughter, thinking about that explosion. It had sounded far too loud. What had he done?

At least I’m safe from Sirius, he thought, not much comforted. No one will let him chase after a man he had already killed.

Peter wandered through the sewers for a long time, unsure of what to do now. All thoughts of Dumbledore forgiving him had evaporated. He had likely put his other best friend into Azkaban now, and he didn’t dare show up to say Sirius was innocent because then he would have to confess. And that would put him in Azkaban. Or get him Kissed. Or dead. Not to mention that if Sirius were ever released from Azkaban, he’d be out for Peter’s blood. What could Peter tell Dumbledore now?

I’m very sorry one of my friends and his wife are dead and another of my friends is in Azkaban, and it’s all because of me, but would you mind terribly much hiding me so I don’t get killed?

The idea was laughable.

His best chance right now hinged on Sirius’s sanity. He had seemed mad to Peter, and if that kept up, no one would believe him that Peter was still alive. He could go off the assumption that the wizarding world thought him dead now. Dead was safe, so long as he wasn’t really dead. Of the only people who knew he had an animal form, one was dead, and another was in Azkaban (most likely). If he just avoided Remus, then he could stay a rat and be perfectly safe.

He stopped, resting his weight on the ground instead of his suddenly shaking legs. One was dead, the other imprisoned. Because of him. None of it had really sunk in yet because he had been on the edge of death for a couple days now, but he thought back to the smiling faces of his friends in school. Peter had never been very well-liked, but two popular and smart boys had taken him under wing in first year, and this was how he repaid them?

“The Potters, he says.�

He just gave them over, three lives that had meant so much to him, gone in an instant because of his betrayal.

“I hope it was worth it, Peter.�

Worth it? Of course it wasn’t! He hadn’t done this because he wanted to, he had had no choice! Can’t you understand, Sirius? Can’t you see I’m afraid?

“Where are they?�

Chance after chance to save them, but it was all over when he’d told the Dark Lord. Now he’d lost his only chance at protection and two of his best friends. Now he was exiled, against his will, terrified that someone might discover he still lived. None of it had been by his choice. He couldn’t think of anything he could’ve done differently that might’ve given him a chance to save them. He wasn’t brave like his friends. He had tried so hard.

“...betrayed them.�

I know! Peter scuttled off into a black hole in the sewers, free of other rats, hoping to outrun the voices in his memory, but hiding only made it worse. He had been hiding for so long already, hiding from the reality of being a spy. Hiding from his friends what had happened. Hiding from himself how scared he was until it was too late. He darted back out of the shadows, looking for a spot of light, an exit from the sewers, desperate for fresh air at last. He didn’t want to hide anymore, but he had nowhere else to go.

He squeaked as the bright light nearly blinded him. He had so lost track of time that he hadn’t realised it was day. How many days had he passed down in the sewers? He didn’t even know where he was anymore.

Trying to get used to the light, Peter wandered off into some grass, still dazed and disoriented. After a few moments, he could see well enough to notice the house towering over the grass, oddly misshapen and lumpy. The yard was cluttered with things that seemed to be boots, and Peter nearly bumped into something bigger than him but still small, which he only realized was a gnome after it had run off.

All that mattered now was moving. Not being in the darkness. Just keep moving and something will present itself.

As soon as that thought had passed, he felt a great tug on his tail and squealed as the ground moved away from him. All sorts of wild thoughts rushed through his mind in those few frantic seconds: Sirius had somehow gotten away from the Ministry and found him again; the Ministry believed Sirius and had caught him; maybe even James’s ghost had stayed and got hold of him, he just didn’t know anymore.

He was so shocked at seeing a freckled face framed with red hair peering at him that he stopped moving and stared.

The face grinned and held him up higher. “George!� The small child had been crouching over where Peter had been on the ground, but now stood up, toddling off after another boy who looked remarkably like him. “Lookit!�

Peter was shocked. He didn’t know how to react to this new development. After everything else that had happened, a child had grabbed onto his tail, and that was it? He would’ve laughed if he could.

George met his twin—for they must be twins, looking that much alike—and stared down at Peter for a moment, considering. The two grinned at each other, then ran off with Peter toward the misshapen house, yelling, “Mum!� in shrill child voices. The one holding him tripped when coming in the door, smacking Peter against something, so it was a dazed rat that was presented to their mother with pleas to keep it.

“Oh good lord, they caught an animal,� she said, putting her hands on her hips. Peter looked around the small kitchen, overwhelmed by how quick everything was happening. He was sure he could get out of this by turning back into a human, but he didn’t know if he wanted to. How would he explain it, for one thing?

“If I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a hundred times,� their mother said. “You cannot just catch things out in the yard and keep them as pets. Not gnomes, and definitely not rats.�

Another boy, considerably older than the one holding Peter (still by the tail, which was starting to ache), came into the kitchen about then and spotted the commotion. “Hullo Freddie, what’s that?� he asked, crouching down onto his brother’s level.

“Don’t encourage them, Charlie....�

“It’s just a rat, Mum,� Charlie said. “Can I see it?� he added to Fred, holding out his hands. Fred glanced at his twin, then reluctantly put Peter down in his brother’s hands. Peter looked up at their older brother, twitching his tail away from the child’s hand. Staying like that for so long wasn’t very comfortable. “How about this, mates? I’ll keep him.� He looked up at their mother. “I can take care of a rat, Mum. And look at him. He doesn’t look like he can take care of himself.�

She eyed the older brother, who looked maybe around eight years old to the twins’ three, and shook her head. “All right, Charlie, just make sure you take care of it,� she said, glancing pointedly down at the twins at her feet.

“Of course, Mum.� He went over to the cabinets, still holding a somewhat comatose Peter in one hand, and rummaged around for something for him to eat.

The twins, meanwhile, were loudly protesting to their mother that they had caught it, so why did Charlie get to keep it, it just wasn’t fair, it was theirs—

“That’s quite enough, you two,� she said severely. “You are three years old; you cannot take care of a pet. Now shoo! I have cooking to do.� They reluctantly withdrew from her but did not leave the kitchen.

A pet. He was a pet now. He could hear James and Sirius laughing at him from the past. Oh, the things they would say if they knew he had become someone’s pet. Well, perhaps they would be different, now. They wouldn’t be teasing him anymore. Peter could get away anytime he wanted to and knew it, but to be a pet in a wizarding household.... He could just stay here. None of them suspected he was anything but a rat, and the most threatening things evident in this household were those twins, eyeing him longingly behind their mother’s back. Maybe this could work.

Peter slipped under the counter barely in front of Fred and huddled against the wall, eyeing the small hand grabbing for him. He felt sorry for any real pet those two ended up getting. He could barely defend himself now, and he was really a wizard. Not that he knew what those two intended to do once they caught him again, but he had no intentions of finding out.

The hand withdrew as another pair of small feet ran over, and the toddler twins conversed in whispers for a moment. George ran off again, and Fred laid back down to peer under the cabinet at Peter. He had a bad feeling about this, but with Fred keeping a close eye on him, he had nowhere left to run. From now on, he decided, he should just stay in Charlie’s room.

About then, someone with much heavier footsteps entered the kitchen. The large feet mostly covered by the tattered hem of robes moved over to the kitchen table, and a tired sigh announced that their owner had sat down. The light steps of their mother approached as well. “Evening paper, dear,� she said, pausing briefly at the kitchen table. “Fred,� she hissed, “get off the floor!� Fred looked up, then back at Peter as if considering and stood obediently. He scuffed the ground with his bare foot as he made his way out of the kitchen. Her feet stayed there as Peter supposed she watched to make sure he left.

“George?� she said suddenly, stepping forward. “George, what do you have?� The twins immediately broke into a run. “If that was a wand,� she shouted after them, “you had better put it back where it came from! Do you hear me?�

A wand? Merlin’s beard, saved by the strict mother. Who knew what could’ve happened to Peter if they started poking him with a wand.

Their father sighed to the sound of paper rustling. “All the news is about those trials going on,� he said. “Not that they’re reporting half of what’s really happening.�

“Do you have to read the paper, Arthur?� she asked, her feet stopping right in front of the counter Peter hid under. “You already work overtime with all of that, not to mention that they’re not compensating you for the work, but you have to read about it when you get home?�

“It’s the principle of the thing, Molly.� More paper rustling. “Oh. I hadn’t heard about that one, yet....�

Molly sniffed disapprovingly, but Peter didn’t think it was loud enough for her husband to hear. “At least put it down while you eat your dinner,� she said, joining him at the table.

“Yes, yes,� he said absently. “They gave young Peter Pettigrew an Order of the Merlin. First Class, even.�

Peter, on the point of trying to find a roundabout way of getting out of the kitchen and back upstairs, froze. An Order of the Merlin? For what?

“Peter Pettigrew,� Molly said thoughtfully, as if the name didn’t immediately ring bells. “...Oh.�

“For bravery, it says, in trying to take on Death Eater spy Sirius Black after his betrayal that caused the deaths of James and Lily Potter. I can’t believe so much about that managed to leak out. I thought this was supposed to be secret?�

“Is it? Do eat, dear....�

“Yes, of course. The Ministry doesn’t want anyone to know that they skipped Black’s trial. Everything about this is supposed to be perfectly fair and legal, to encourage Death Eaters to come out of hiding and give themselves up.�

He didn’t even get a trial? All thoughts of trying to get out of the kitchen had fled from Peter. He stood stock still, listening to the pair of them talk about him and his friends. So, they really had thought that Sirius was the spy.... So, Peter was safe. Honoured even, with an Order of the Merlin that he didn’t deserve, but at what cost?

“But I don’t suppose they could keep much of it secret with the scandal of all those Muggle deaths,� he continued. “Made the Muggle news, even—the whole street was torn apart. I even got pulled into clean-up for that one; it was a mess. Bodies everywhere.... Twelve Muggles in all. And all we found of Peter was a finger....�

Peter’s mind buzzed. Bodies...? He hadn’t meant to kill anyone. He was just trying to get away from Sirius! There had been some kind of mistake. The whole street torn apart, he said, and twelve Muggles dead. Twelve.

But everyone thought Sirius had killed them.

No! He couldn’t start doing that. Just because everyone thought Sirius was guilty didn’t change the fact that Peter was the real murderer. A murderer. He was actually a murderer. No better than a Death Eater, now. His last connection to his friends snapped, then. Only excuses were left because Peter could not deny, whatever he had intended, that his wand had been the one that killed those people. His wand, directed by his hand, had blasted a street apart and killed twelve people, twelve Muggles even, who had done nothing at all.

Whatever else they said passed over Peter as inaudible babble. That blast.... That disproportionately large blast.... Why hadn’t he stopped to look back? Would it have made a difference? he thought miserably. They would’ve been dead already by then, and Sirius might’ve gotten me, too, if I had.

An Order of the Merlin for murdering people. He wondered if Sirius had gotten the news of that. Perhaps it would be better if he didn’t. Sirius would hate him enough already without hearing about people honouring the fall of someone who deserved death but had not died. How many lives now had Peter’s cost? At least fourteen. How he longed to be the Peter Pettigrew they were writing about in the papers. Courageous if foolhardy was better than cowardly and selfish. He almost wished he had the courage to die.

Almost.