Sacred to the Memory

June 1994

Peter Pettigrew was dead. At least officially. Only a very few people knew that the fourth member of the old gang was still alive. Unfortunately, those few included his former best friends, Sirius Black and Remus Lupin, not to mention the Boy Who Lived and, he assumed by now, Albus Dumbledore. It was imperative that he remain untraced, which was why he found himself heading from Scotland to Albania. On foot. As a rat. Peter liked to stretch his legs by assuming human form, but could only do so at night and in Muggle districts, such as the one he found himself wandering through one evening, happy not to be a rodent for a few brief hours. As a rule, he avoided populated areas, but the village was sleepy and rural; there would be no one awake to spot him. Besides, it was an all-Muggle settlement. He wondered vaguely how he knew this and felt a memory tugging at his brain. It suddenly clicked as he passed a rather dilapidated pub. "The Swan and Three". Peter realised why the village, with its quiet lanes and small shops, was so familiar. It was where Lily and James had lived, all those years ago. They had lived on the outskirts, at the other end of the village, which was why he hadn't recognised it earlier, but he remembered the pub. He, Sirius, James and Remus had visited it a few times before the Fidelius Charm was cast, and James wasn't allowed out in the village any more.

On an impulse, he turned right and transformed into a rat to slip under the great graveyard gates that stood beyond the pub. The grave was tucked into a corner.

In Loving Memory of Lily and James Potter.

Peter stared at the engraved letters and, not for the first time, felt a cold stab of guilt. He was genuinely sorry they were dead. He had not wanted to kill his best friend, for Merlin's sake.

"But you see, James, it was me or you."

Peter's whispered voice was calm. Remus and Sirius's ridiculous accusations of the evening of his discovery echoed in his mind.

"Then you should have died, as we would have done for you!"

Would they have? Would they have died for silly, stupid Peter Pettigrew, their simpering, sycophantic shadow? Peter laughed, and the noise rang hollow and unnerving through the empty graveyard. They may have been prepared to die for each other, but he didn't believe any of them would have sacrificed themselves for him. They didn't think him worth that; he knew it.

He was used to thinking in such clinical terms, weighing one person's life against another's. It had been surprisingly easy for him to become a Death Eater. Thinking back, the Sorting Hat had suggested Slytherin, but he'd been scared of the mean-looking figures sitting at the Slytherin house table and had pleaded not to be put there. He'd been haunted by that decision. On one level, he'd always been passionately grateful to his friends for including him, for making him one of their gang. He'd served the detentions by their side, he'd acted as a look-out for every prank, he'd even learned to become an Animagus, a skill that had served him so well. But even though he'd enjoyed his status as their friend, he had been grimly aware that his position was that of the bumbling, adoring sidekick. He knew that members of the school mocked him behind his friends' backs. Moreover, his friends had mocked him continuously to his face. He had never been taken seriously. And he had proved what a mistake that was, he thought, with savage triumph.

It had been going so perfectly. The Dark Lord should have ascended after finishing off the baby. Peter had felt bad about the baby. He could convince himself that James deserved what he'd got, but the baby was, well, a baby. Supposedly defenceless. But still, it was not like he would have had to kill it; that was His task. A task which had horrendously back-fired and resulted in Peter spending twelve years as a rat, being kept in that boy's pocket and - he shuddered at the memory - being called Scabbers. That wasn't meant to happen. It had been the best and worst day of his life, that day that Sirius had unwittingly played straight into Peter's hands and talked the Potters into making him their Secret-Keeper. A weak and talentless thing, they'd thought him. Peter had relished the idea of You-Know-Who killing them, mocking them with the fact that they'd been betrayed by their useless friend. And then, the Dark Lord would have ruled England, with him, Peter, as his trusted and proven servant. It was a position that Peter had created for himself, something that he had used his own intelligence and cunning to get; he would bask in his own glory, not that of his friends.

But it had all gone so wrong. Harry Potter, the cursed child, had survived, forced You-Know-Who out of his body and Peter into hiding. And it had been worse that evening, with the boy acting all noble and James-like. Peter shuddered at the unpleasant memory. He'd had to beg. He didn't mind that - he was used to begging - it was the cold light of malice in both Sirius and Remus's eyes that disturbed him. And he thought he'd dealt with Sirius so effectively. Sirius had been an utter sight, so different from the sneering, smirking, smiling, handsome Sirius that Peter had carried in his mind. This Sirius had been damaged, tortured and haunted. Peter felt a surge of pleasure at his handiwork. But Sirius had escaped, and the truth was out. Peter was once more a wanted man, and he needed protection. He had only one choice now; he had to find his Master.

It was odd, seeing the graves and knowing that he had done this; that if it weren't for him, these two people would be alive. But if they were alive, it would mean that he had died, rather than betray them. And he had much rather betray them. Still, he sometimes wondered what would have happened had he resisted. If he had stood by his old friendship. His schooldays now seemed like the golden days of his life. Peter cast his mind back, savouring the excitement of the full moon, reliving how it had felt when he'd transformed for the first time, remembering the fun of watching Sirius and James fight Severus Snape. Suddenly, other memories rushed through his mind. Remus, tired and pale after the full moon. James, exhilarated and triumphant after a victorious Quidditch match. Sirius, gleeful and excited, the light of a new prank, bound to get them all in detention, in his eyes. And, later, Lily, smiling as he entered their cottage, sometimes with food on the table, always ready for a kind word or a chat. Life had been warmer then. He remembered the last Christmas he'd spent as a human.

"Moony!" Sirius, overly exuberant on festive occasions, flung himself on Remus. James, grinning like a madman, rolling his eyes at the capering Sirius, approached Peter.

"How are you, Pete?"

"Oh, fine," Peter answered airily.

"Haven't seen you in ages,"

"Yes, well, work's been busy." Peter had been acting as a spy for the Dark Lord for six months now. He'd told his friends that he had a new, demanding job, that involved his going away a lot. And they'd believed him; deceiving them had been remarkably easy so far.

"Well, it's great to see you, mate. Merry Christmas!"

Meanwhile, Remus had finally escaped Sirius's clutches. Sirius turned to Peter.

"Wormtail!"

Peter pretended to cower in fright.

"Oh, you're here," a new voice called. Lily was at the sitting room door, a glowing smile on her face, tiny Harry in her arms. She passed her son to James, who immediately started zooming him through the air.

"Peter, you look well."

'Strange what a diet of Muggle killings will do for you,' Peter thought, hugging his secret to himself and feeling mysterious and pleased with himself. He received Lily's warm, scented hug, before she moved on to Remus. Over Remus's shoulder, however, she caught sight of her husband and Sirius.

"James!" Her pleasant voice had at once become dangerous and scolding. "Get him down NOW!"

Peter's lips twitched, as James, a mock woebegone expression on his face, brought Harry gently down from the ceiling. Lily had her hands on her hips.

"Stop levitating the baby!"

The baby in question didn't seem to mind being levitated; he was grinning in a gummy fashion, as his mother held him protectively to her chest.

"Can we open our presents now that Moony and Wormtail are here?" Sirius began to plead, assuming his begging expression ("Irresistible to women, Wormtail, old boy.") and jiggling from foot to foot like an excited three-year-old. Under Lily's returning look, Sirius transformed into Padfoot and gazed up at his best friend's wife, making his eyes large as saucers. Lily had difficulty in keeping a straight face.

"Just one?" James added, grinning slyly at his wife. She stuck her tongue out at him.

"All right, but lunch is nearly ready."

Shaking her head at the resulting war dance in which all four men indulged, Lily moved to the tree.

"Oooh, me first!" Sirius managed to look as though he was wagging his tail, even when in human form. Peter, by the tree, found a present with his name on and threw it at Sirius' head. For once, his aim was true, prompting much applause and laughter. Sirius unwrapped a very handsome set of dress robes, which he donned, parading up and down the room.

"She's right, the blue does bring out your eyes," teased Remus, who was reading the card that went with it.

"She?" Sirius queried.

"All my love, Linda," Remus read out in explanation.

"Linda...Linda..." Sirius mused, his face thoughtful.

"Dear Sirius," read Peter over Remus' shoulder. "Merry Christmas...hope to see you in the New Year for...Merlin!" His eyebrows shot up. Sirius snatched the card, and his puzzled expression cleared.

"Oh, LINda," he said, enlightened.

Remus opened several pairs of brightly-coloured woollen socks from Sirius.

"It must be boring to get books every year," Sirius explained, ignoring the glares from James, Lily and Peter.

Next, James was handed a small package by Lily. He opened it and gave a whoop, before kissing his wife ecstatically.

"State of the art Broom Compass," he told the others, examining the gadget with pride. "Look, if you press this button, you get a map of the UK, and this one activates the invisibility booster..."

Knowing that once James got onto the topic of brooms, it was hard to get him off, Peter jumped in with a diversionary tactic.

"What about Harry, shouldn't he get a present?"

Lily snorted.

"A present? He's got more than the rest of us put together."

It was true; the tree looked as though it was precariously balanced atop a mound of presents labelled "To Harry". Excited, James dug around, before extracting a long, thin package. Lily's eyes narrowed.

"James, you did not get Harry a broomstick. He's five months old!"

"Lily, relax," Sirius started. It's not like Harry's never been on a broo..."

He stopped short at James's frantic gesturing.

"It isn't dangerous," James protested, under Lily's disapproving glare. The wrappings revealed a miniature broom, with a large cradle seat. "You see, it's got a balancing charm on it, and it can only go a foot off the ground."

He placed Harry in the seat, made sure he was secure, and let the broom move slowly through the air, the baby screaming in delight. Lily sighed, resigned.

"He'll have broken every bone in his body by the time he's four."

"Don't be silly. It took me until I was nine. Anyway, Moony's great at healing spells."

Lily shot her husband a venomous look.

"Moving on," James continued in a hearty voice. "Peter hasn't had anything yet." Again, he rummaged around in the pile of gifts.

Peter examined the square package before removing the wrapping, making sure not to rip the paper.

"Before Easter would be good, Wormtail," Sirius commented, as Peter folded the gaudy paper by his side.

"Just because you unwrap presents like you're digging up a bone."

Peter turned to the smart wooden box. He opened it and unfolded a cream-coloured sheaf of parchment, which proclaimed: "Magic on the Move, essentials for the Wizard on the Wing."

Inside was a "Travel in style" Travelling cloak, in a pocket of which was a supply of Floo powder in a leather pouch. There was also a compact toiletry kit, an emergency Portkey, a sleeping potion for the Knight Bus, antidotes to Doxy stings and bites from most magical creatures, a face mask and a pair of ear muffs.

"You seem to be away a lot with your job, so I thought it'd be useful."

Peter thanked James with what he hoped was adequate enthusiasm. If only he knew what Peter was really doing, when he said that he'd be away on business. Suddenly, he felt very unsure. Was he doing the right thing? Deep down, he knew he wasn't, but what choice did he have now? He was committed.

Sirius and Remus exchanged a look.

"And now for Lily."

Sirius produced a large present.

"This is from Remus, Peter and me."

Peter looked up. He half-remembered Sirius asking him if he wanted to put some money towards a present for Lily, which he had. He didn't even know what it was.

Remus looked rather guilty. "It's from Sirius and Peter, mainly."

Sirius cut in, his voice stern. "It's from all three of us."

Peter understood, as did James and Lily. Remus had been unable to find a job after Hogwarts, despite having extremely good NEWTs. No one wanted to employ a werewolf. Subsequently, Remus had very little to live on, yet he was proud and hated having to accept money from James or Sirius, who were both very well-off.

A gasp from Lily brought Peter's brain back to the matter of the mystery present. It was a fine kitchen clock. However, instead of hands that told the time, it had hands with people's names on them. The hands pointed to where the person was, such as 'home', 'hospital' 'work' 'travelling' or even 'Mortal Peril'. There were hands for Lily, James, Harry, Sirius, Remus and Peter.

"You can add on extra hands," Remus was explaining.

"Where did you get this? I've never seen anything like it," Lily enthused, as she enveloped each of them in a tight hug. As Sirius explained about a cousin of his who had one, Peter stared at the 'Peter' hand of the clock. For a panicked moment, he wondered what the clock would read when he was with the Dark Lord, but as there was no position which read 'Death Eater,' he assumed the clock wouldn't betray his secret. Lily, James and Harry's arrows were pointing to 'home' while Sirius, Remus and Peter's pointed to 'visiting'. Peter smiled, pushing the thought of You-Know-Who from his mind. He was on a clock. He was part of a family at Christmas. Just then, Remus sniffed the air and furrowed his brow.

"Do I smell burning?"

Lily pulled out her wand, from which smoke was billowing. Her face fell.

"The turkey," she moaned, and raced out of the room.

The graveyard felt even colder after the memory of happy times. Peter frowned. If he hadn't had a choice then, he definitely didn't have one now. There was only one path for him; he had to find his Master. All of a sudden, Peter felt very lost. Why was he doing this? Why had he destroyed the happy family from his memories? Why did he give up love and friendship in return for cruel, cold servitude? He didn't even agree with the Dark Lord. He was pureblood, and Lily had always been a thousand times better at magic than he was. Remus was a half-blood, but he didn't hate him for that. The Muggle killings had given him a surge of power at first, but that had soon begun to turn stale. The truth was that Peter loved and hated Voldemort as he hated and loved himself.

He glared at the silent grave and concentrated on ridding his heart of the residing wisps of love and regret. They would only weaken him. He hardened his voice.

"You thought I was pathetic, Prongs. You never even noticed me, Lily."

They were not worth his sitting in a cold churchyard. Peter got up and moved away, his legs stiff. He'd better transform and find somewhere warm to sleep for what was left of the night. He'd need his strength. It was a long way to Albania.