Chapter 4:
Peter Pettigrew
Peter didn't have the time to register the look of despair on Remus' face as he scrambled inside Professor McGonagall's office, naturally tripping himself. The older Witch had her mouth set into a thin line which were the initial indications that she was not pleased with her last three sessions, facing back to back a trio of rebellious Marauders. Unfortunately for Peter, several other indications for the same followed.
'Well? There's a reason I have seat opposite to mine!' She snapped as Peter hurried to sit down. His eyes watered as he, in a haste, accidentally sat on the armrest of his chair, but he quickly shoved it aside, not keen on infuriating the Professor even more.
An uncomfortable silence for Peter loomed over the office as McGonagall angrily flipped through the parchments on the table separating Peter from the angry witch, occasionally muttering an incoherent, 'Wizarding... Prejudice... Stupid'.
Peter almost muttered an I agree, if nothing to calm down his professor a bit, but thought better of it.
'Potions, disastrous,' McGonagall's sharp voice made him yelp, an oddly squeaky voice like that of a pale, old mouse 'Defense Against the Dark Arts; unacceptable at practical magic, Divination; would be an achievement to even consider it a classroom with James Potter attending it.'
By now Peter had contemplated making a run for it. Perhaps the other three Marauders had some kind of a stand off with McGonagall and he could coax them into a duel to death with her? It'd save him at least. Before he could decide between bolting out of the room and turning into his animagus form, McGonagall spoke once again, this time much in a much calmer tone, 'The only thing you are remotely good at is Charms and Professor Flitwick appreciates your talent in that area. You're doing academically just fine in Transfiguration and, like the rest of your brood, have somehow managed to master it's practical principles,' She narrowed her eyes suspiciously. 'What do you think is the best career choice for yourself?'
Peter who had been chewing his nails nervously, stuttered a weak, 'I.. I d-dont know...'
McGonagall's nostrils flared, 'That is what your friend said,' She muttered.
She glanced at Peter, who had closed his eyes and had started praying and sighed, 'Charms and Transfiguration goes well together. You are good at both, an unlikely combination but it could enable you a great deal of opportunities at adventurous fields, such as a curse breaker. But for that, you would require a basic understanding of Ancient Runes.'
'It would - what?' Peter whispered, amazed.
McGonagall frowned, 'It would give you quite a future if you have ever considered being a curse breaker.' She spoke slowly, as if talking to a new born.
Peter's eyes shined with anticipation. For weeks, since the arrival of the notice, he had dreaded this session, another bitter reminder that he's the weakest wheel of the four infamous Marauders with just about zero changes of a secure future. But here he was, being told that if he worked hard for it, he might achieve an adventurous job. He nodded numbly, imagining himself in a long overcoat, paving his way through an army of Cursed mummies with relative ease and grinned stupidly.
McGonagall frowned yet again, concerned for the mental state of her pupil and spoke, 'You may leave. I will prepare a report that will guide you to the requirements and a list of books that you might want to have a look at.' She dismissed.
Peter stood up and turned around, imagining a blast behind him, flying mummies wailing for the pain he had caused them with just a simple flick of his wand and strutted out.
'Peter.' A gentle voice called.
He broke out of a vicious arm battle with a three thousand year old war mage and turned around.
'You are no little than your best friends. They would say, and believe, the same.'
Peter was so stunned, he walked face first into a curtain of red hair - a very angry Lily Evans with a very fake bad boy impression of James Potter stumbling behind her.
A.N: This is not the end.