Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters, but that would be cool. Not that I'm into slavery, but it would be fun. The world is JK Rowling's, strictly. I don't make any money off of this.

A/N This is a project I've been thinking of for a while. You'll notice this first prologue is pretty much the same as the Halloween side story I wrote, for the handful of people that actually read it. Just a couple things are added in. Happy Reading!

James had been contained in this home for what seemed like forever, but Halloween night was looking like one of the good nights. Along with Lily, he had wanted to dress Harry up and take him around Godric's Hollow to do some muggle trick-or-treating, but they knew that it would make them an easy target for a certain mass-murderer and the victims of a lecture from Dumbledore even if they had left the house and not been killed.

At least Harry was enjoying himself. Earlier he had broken his toy broomstick after trying to push it to its limit of speed. The thing started to smoke and buck around like a raging bull. After a few seconds of James and Harry laughing and Lily going crazy with worry, it finally died and fell to the ground, never to be ridden again. Between James' proud announcements of his son's speed being too much for any toy broomstick and Lily's mumblings about how dangerous the whole thing could have been, plus the sadness of losing his broomstick, Harry's confusion sent him into a crying fit.

James took action at the sight of his son in despair, picking him up and taking him to the sitting room. He then took out his wand and started making multicolored sparks in the air in front of Harry. The boy instantly ceased his crying and looked in wonder at the colors in front of him. Tears dried up as the baby's laughter rang through the house, warming James and Lily's spirits.

"Not bad, are they, miss Charms whiz?" James asked his wife, who had been watching them from the doorway to the kitchen.

"I do believe I could do better, actually."

"Is that so? Well then, we'll have to have little spark-off to see who is the champion then. Harry here will be the judge. Won't you, Harry?" He waved his wand and made a large display of mini-fireworks appear, flying around Harry in the shape of a large golden snitch, making him go ecstatic.

"You're on, Mister Potter." She pulled out her wand and started to walk towards her husband and son. When she got to them, she lovingly planted a kiss on each of their cheeks, then had a thought. "I'll be back. I think some sweets for our judge will be just the trick to seal a victory." She left her wand on the ground and headed for the kitchen.

"Have to resort to bribery, do you? Bring it!" James also dropped his wand and grabbed Harry, holding him high into the air and looking up at him. "You're gonna pick your old man, right, Harry? No amount of kisses or sweets can trick you."

Then, the silence of the rest of the house was broken by the front door bursting open. 'Why the bloody hell is Peter just barging in?' thought James. Lily came into the room, a look of terror on her face as she and James realized the same thing.

James instinctively got up and headed for the hall, saying "Stay here" to his wife. His heart dropped as he got into the hall and looked towards the door.

There he was, standing in the doorway, wand out, a cold look of excitement in his eyes. Lord Voldemort had broken the Fidelius Charm and was coming down the hall towards him, towards Lily, towards Harry. He had to get them out of the way. They had to be safe.

"Lily, take Harry and go! It's him! Go! Run! I'll hold him off!" He watched Lily carry Harry up the stairs. He didn't want her to go up there, for there would be no exit, except maybe jumping out of a window. Would she be able to do that and get Harry and herself to safety? That would have to be the only option; they couldn't apparate inside the house. He looked back down the hall and saw that Voldemort was within cursing distance. James looked down at his hand and came to the horrifying realization that he had left his wand in the other room. No wand, with the murdering bastard laughing at him.

The next second was the longest of James' life. He thought of his loved ones as the wand was raised towards him in slow motion. Of his wife and son, both of whom had to be okay, had to escape; of his parents, who had passed on, and were watching over him, giving him strength in his final moments, as he had watched them in theirs; and of his friends, the ones with which he had formed that unbreakable bond with that day aboard the Hogwarts express so many years ago. He thought of Moony, where ever he was, who had trusted him and the others enough to tell them of his "furry little problem". He hoped, as Voldemort's mouth started to slowly shout the incantation, that he had been wrong, and that Remus had not betrayed him and Lily. He thought of Wormtail, always there, always loyal. He had a pang of worry for Peter; he had been secret keeper, meaning that the reason Voldemort was here, almost finished saying the curse, was because their location had come from his friend's mouth. It was impossible that Peter, so trustworthy, could betray him, so the location must have been tortured out of him. James hoped to god that Peter was okay, wherever he was. He thought of Padfoot, his best friend, best man, and godfather to his son. He hadn't seen his friend in so long, and he had expected to have more time with him after this whole Voldemort thing had been dealt with. He could hear Sirius now, jokingly making him feel guilty about not seeing him before dying. He'd never hear the end of it from the man who James could depend on for anything. He hoped that his brother would be okay, and that he'd take the fight to all who were behind taking Prongs down.

Finally, as everything in James' sight was overtaken by green light, his last thought was again of Lily and Harry. 'I love you, Lily. From the moment I saw you crying on the train, I didn't know it then, but I have always loved you. Thank you for loving me back, for giving me a chance. Please, protect him. Get him out of here. Harry needs to be okay. Please.'
The spell finally hit him, and James Potter fell down the floor.

No. This wasn't happening. James wasn't dead; she had just imagined that flash of green light downstairs. They were still downstairs with Harry, making him laugh, enjoying the night, thinking about what they were going to dress their son as next Halloween, when they might be able to actually go out. She was going to beat James at entertaining Harry. They were going to wake up tomorrow morning, a family, still whole, still alive. She wasn't running into Harry's nursery, trying to barricade herself and Harry in the room with everything she could throw in front of the door.

But she was. This was real. Everything was real and she would have to fight and fight and fight some more to keep her son out of harm's way. She went to take down the protective spells off of the window, to escape through there, but it was with the most painful realization that she remembered she had left her wand back downstairs. She was trapped, and the door burst open to reveal him moments later. He smiled when he, too, realized she had no wand.

There was nothing she could do now. But Lily was not giving up. She had Harry in her arms and she was not going to go down without putting up a fight. Even if she had to beg with the Dark Lord standing here, she would do what she had to do for Harry to live. She put him down in the crib, turned back around, and put her arms up.. Voldemort had a look of intrigue on her face, turning his head sideways as a curious child would.

Lily started to beg and pleaded with Voldemort, "Not Harry, not Harry, please not Harry!"

"Stand aside, you silly girl... stand aside, now," Voldemort said calmly. Why was he not killing her? James was surely dead downstairs; why wouldn't Voldemort finish them all off?

But none of that mattered right now. The bastard would have to kill her to get to Harry. She would stay in front of her son for eternity if that's what it took. She still begged the man. "Not Harry, please no, take me, kill me instead -"

"This is my last warning –" His eyes betrayed a look of annoyance, and Lily didn't think he was fully committed to sparing her.

But she would not give up; she would not move aside. Not until her heart stopped beating would she stop protecting her son. "Not Harry! Please ... have mercy ... have mercy ... Not Harry! Not Harry! Please - I'll do anything ..."

"Stand aside. Stand aside, girl!"

She wouldn't say anymore. She merely looked at him with a glare on her eyes. She came to a realization, and knew that Harry would be safe. She knew vaguely of the magic, but enough to understand what had to be done on her part. She kept her feet planted to the ground between Harry and Voldemort, challenging him with her eyes to kill her. Harry would not and could not be touched if she was struck dead for him. She was ready to die for her son.

Lily Potter's eyes were blinded by a flashing green light, and she dropped to the ground, her last thought a thought of victory over Voldemort; her son would be safe. She had protected him.

The dark figure near the door walked across the room and stepped over the mother's body to the crib. He looked down upon the boy, who had not cried this whole time, perhaps thinking that that the hooded figure was his father still playing with him. His playful expression disappeared when he looked under the hood, and the face he saw was not his father's.

This was it. He would be performing the spell one last time, and his number of soul containers, including his own body, would reach the most magically perfect number. How fitting that the death that brought about this most significant event was the so-called "one with the power to vanquish" him.

He undid the front of his robes, exposing the runes already drawn on his chest. His heart, or what was left of it, beat rapidly. He'd been waiting for this moment since Hogwarts. When he heard of the prophecy, he knew that this was the correct death to create this soul container with.

Slowly, he took out the item that would house the last portion of him, and the only one that he would keep on his person. He had stolen it from Ollivander's Wand Shop a few years earlier, as soon as he learned of its existence. He doubted the old fool even noticed it was missing, with all the clutter in that place. The core of this new holly wand was a feather that came from the same beast that supplied the core to his wand of so many years; apparently it had only ever given two.

A second wand, especially being the brother of his current one, was sure to make him even more deadlier. The fact that it was about to contain his soul made him almost giddy with anticipation to experiment with his new toy. Nobody, not even his most trusted servants, knew that he had acquired a second wand. Once he had accomplished this feat, he would reveal the new addition to his power. The world was his. The war was nearly won, the Ministry had nearly fallen, and this was a perfect time to bolster his abilities and drive the nail into the coffin of Albus Dumbledore and his little Order.

He said the incantation, a direct Latin translation of the phrase, 'I end your life, my soul is safe.' "Tuum vitae ego finem, mea anima est tutum." As he touched his yew wand to the largest rune on his chest, it glowed, and the others followed suit. They burned his skin, and the heat grew more and more intense, but he welcomed the pain and eventually the runes disappeared into his body. He would now just have to murder the child, then pull the new fragment of his soul out with his wand and direct it to the new wand.

He raised his arm, ready to strike, and took aim at the boy's forehead. He spoke the killing curse and filled the room with the green light that he was so accustomed to. Before he could go any further, everything stopped.

The inhabitants of Godric's Hollow were still out in the streets of the town, parents with children dressed up as ghouls, goblins, and ghosts. Some had sticks that they pretended were wands, shooting pretend spells at each other and laughing as they carried their candy bags around, their parents laughing at the silliness. The real witches and wizards that were partaking in the festivities were scattered amongst the crowd, very amused, as they were every year when muggles dressed up as things they knew to be real, asking for sweets. It was a strange holiday, but very fun every year.

Most everybody in the town, magic and muggle alike, passed in front of the Potter's house in Godric's Hollow without a glance, as none but old Bathilda Bagshot knew that the house existed. They saw the two houses on either side of it, but those two houses did not seem to have any space between them.

And suddenly, a blast. Green light blinded everyone within a hundred feet. People ran instinctively from the disturbance, grabbing their children to get them to safety. The witches and wizards, however, ran for another reason besides the volume and force of the blast. They saw the green light, and knew it could not be good.

A good five minutes was all it took for people to clear out, for Ministry of Magic officials to arrive to control the chaos, to see what had happened to make such an explosion occur between the two houses. But there was now an entire cottage between them. The charm keeping the Potter's house hidden was broken by the sheer force of whatever had transpired here. The right side of the top floor had been blown open, smoke rising from it. All was silent after a few more minutes on that stretch of road in Godric's Hollow as the Ministry officials and wizard families who stayed behind looked in shock at the rubble. All was silent, save for a baby's cry, coming from the hole in the top floor.

"Sirius!" Where was he? "Sirius Black?" Someone was calling his name. Sirius slowly returned to consciousness, opening his eyes to look up at the giant bearded figured above him.

"H-Hagrid. Hagrid, what happened? Where am I? " He managed to sit up.

Something was off about Hagrid. He was looking very uncomfortable, holding a bundle of something and looking around. Sirius had never seen Hagrid looking so grim. He finally answered. "Godric's Hollow."

"Godric's...James and Lily." He sat fully up. "Hagrid, are James and Lily okay?"

"Y-Yeh don' remember, do yeh? Few minutes ago yeh got here on yer motorbike. Yeh got off, and took two steps t'wards me before yeh saw – before yeh saw what happened." His voice cracked as he finished. "Yeh blacked out."

"W-What..." But Sirius didn't finish. He had turned around. The first thing he saw were the few Ministry officials still around, gathering witness statements and doing checks on James' house. The house. Merlin, what happened! Everything about it looked peaceful, save for the gigantic hole in the top floor, where Harry's nursery was.

"Sirius." Hagrid got his attention back, and Sirius' gaze snapped back to the gameskeeper.

"Where are they? Where are James and Lily, Hagrid?" But the sad, sad look in Hagrid's eyes told him all that he needed to know. "No. No!" growled Sirius as he flew off of the ground and ran to the house, pushing aside the officials that tried to stop him.

He knocked the door open and looked down the hall leading to the stairs. The lower level of the house looked like it had experienced a short earthquake. Shelves and paintings had fallen off the wall, a chair was knocked over, a pair a glasses lay on the ground by the stairs.

Slowly, he trudged down the hall, his eyes never leaving the glasses. When he got to them, he had no idea what to do, like a dog who had finally caught up to a car it had been chasing. Finally Sirius bent down and picked the glasses up. James' glasses. The ones that caused the markings around Prongs' eyes when he was in his animagus form. He squeezed the glasses in his hand, though not hard enough to break them. Tears filled his eyes and they flowed down his face. He lost count of how long he stood there.

After forever he looked up the stairs. He did not want to go up there, to see where the true damage had been done. He did not want to see what happened to Lily, he did not want to see what happened to Harry.

Harry. Sirius then turned and ran out of the house, out the door, and sporadically looked around for something he didn't want to see. To his left, about twenty-five feet away, three bodies were laying next to each other, covered by a tarp. He walked towards them, even slower than back in the hall, and stopped about five feet away from them, unable to make his feet move any more.

Sirius found a gigantic comforting hand on his shoulder. He and Hagrid stood in complete silence for a moment. Even when he spoke, he felt like he was in a haze, like he was watching himself in a film. Sounds were muffled by his shock, colors made duller by his grief.

"Where's Harry?"

"Here," said Hagrid. Sirius turned with lightening quickness at him. He slightly lifted the small bundle he had been holding, and lifted a corner of the blanket. In the bundle was little Harry, not a scratch on him, save for a lightening-bolt-shaped cut on his forehead. He was breathing.

Sirius was even more in shock. "How?"

"I don' know. Nobody knows."

"Who's the third body?" He pointed at the corpses underneath the tarp.

"It's 'im, Sirius."

"What? Who?"

"You-Know-Who"

"But h-"

"I don' know that either." This was too much. Voldemort had apparently killed James and Lily, but died before he could kill Harry. How was this possible?

Hagrid continued. "Dumbledore doesn' even know what happened, but I think he's got some ideas. He sen' me to pick up Harry for 'im. Looks like he's to go to Lily's sister."

At this, Sirius snapped his head to Hagrid. "What? Hagrid, let me take Harry. I'm his Godfather, it's what James and Lily wanted."

"I'm sorry, Sirius. I've got me orders. I'm to keep him at a safehouse for day or two, let things cool down a bit. You-Know-Who may be dead, but there're still the Death Eaters to round up."

Sirius was furious at first. This couldn't even be legal, taking Harry away from him. Nevertheless, he knew that it would be near impossible to convince Hagrid to disobey an order from Dumbledore.

"Okay, Hagrid. I'll talk to Dumbledore later. Take the motorcycle, it'll be a lot faster." He handed him the key to the bike.

"Thanks," Hagrid said. "Was gonna take the Knight Bus. Would have been a pretty tight squeeze." He put his hand back on Sirius' shoulder when he saw him returning his sad gaze to the corpses in front of him. "At leas' the man responsible is dead too, Sirius. I know 's not gonna bring 'em back, but justice was quick this time. It's over." And he took Harry and left.

'Not yet, it isn't,' thought Sirius. This shouldn't have happened. Peter was meant to protect James and Lily, to keep the Fidelius Charm strong by remaining silent. Sirius never thought Peter would betray them, but here in front of him were the bodies of two of his best friends, and in Hagrid's arms, on the way to his terrible aunt, was their now orphaned son.

It was supposed to be easy. Sirius would draw the attention, but whatever they did to him, he could never tell James and Lily's location, even if he had wanted to. The only way anyone would ever assume that Peter was the Secret-Keeper was to go after Sirius first and find out that it wasn't him, but nobody had attacked him, something that was curious at first, but now made complete sense.

It was Peter all along. He was feeding secrets to the Death Eaters and lies to the Order, making them believe that Remus was the traitor. As soon as he was made Secret-Keeper, he went straight to Voldemort and told him, which explained why nobody bothered with Sirius.

And because of Wormtail's treachery, whatever the reason for it, here laying before Sirius were James and Lily Potter, covered by a tarp, motionless, soundless, lifeless.

And Peter would soon be joining them.

What was Peter going to do? His protection was gone with the Dark Lord, who was apparently now dead. What had gone wrong? It was supposed to be clean and easy: the Dark Lord would ambush the Potters and take care of the baby, and then Peter would be protected from the reactions of the Order.

Sirius would certainly be coming to kill him. Maybe Remus would be too. Peter left his home the second he heard about the explosion at the Potters', where James and Lily were killed, where only little Harry survived, where rumors were born that the Dark Lord was gone too, unable to complete the assassination of the baby.

He ran. He changed into rat form and scurried down the road, hoping that nobody would give notice to a rat running about in an otherwise very clean neighborhood. But he had no idea where to go. Any place that was usual for him would be out of the question; Sirius would look in those places first. Locations ran through his head as his little legs carried him as fast as they could. Then he thought of it.

The Order. That's how he would get away. He'd go to an Order member, blame this all on Sirius, and go into their protection. The very people he had been betraying for so long were going to protect him. It was so easy. Sirius was supposed to be Secret-Keeper, and the fact that they switched was unknown to all but the Potters, who were dead and Sirius, who would hopefully be locked up very soon. The rat continued down the road. He had planning to do.

The full day of searching did nothing to calm him, nothing to help him think rationally. Sirius spent all day going to every place he could think of to ambush Peter, but to no avail. His flat, Diagon Alley, and even Hogwarts were rat-free today.

Though he previously couldn't fathom the idea of murder, he now had an understanding of why people killed. He wanted Peter's worthless life to end, to be the one who stopped his breathing. He had nothing left, now that Harry was gone to live with his aunt. He couldn't even show his face to Dumbledore until he found Peter and brought him back to prove they had given the role of Secret-Keeper to that traitorous bastard. Even if he could prove that Peter was the one to betray the Potters, he didn't even know if he could convince Dumbledore to let him raise Harry. It was strange that he would pick the Dursleys to get the boy, so the Headmaster must have had another reason to keep him there.

Without James, without Lily, and now without Harry, Sirius didn't have a reason to exist anymore, save for ending the life of Peter Pettigrew. He would worry about what was next after the rat's last breath left his mouth.

The dog was searching in Hogsmeade when he stopped walking and held his nose up to the air. There was the scent. He wasn't in rat form, but he could still smell him as a rat. It was a disgusting scent, but Padfoot pressed on until he saw the dead man enter the Hog's Head, which would unfortunately be the final place Pettigrew would be seen alive. The dog walked into a dark alley near the bar , and a second later Sirius peered around the corner, wand out and ready.

It had taken nearly twenty-four hours of thinking of the best way to go about his trickery, but Peter thought he had it figured out. He had camped out in a gutter for the night, then in the morning decided to first try Diagon Alley to search for Order members on patrol. However, it was hard to find anyone in the celebrating crowds, all drunk with happiness at the Dark Lord's defeat.

After a long day of still attempting to find some Order member, Peter had almost thought of going to Dumbledore before laughing at himself. He could not come into direct contact with Dumbledore; he had a strange feeling about that eye-twinkling thing that he did, almost thinking that the old man could read minds. Mad-eye Moody would have to be shunned as well, as the man's magical eye could certainly see through Peter's sleeve to find the Dark Mark on his arm. He had been lucky that the fool hadn't thought to look there before, but not again, not now that James and Lily were dead. People were going to be on the lookout for the traitor, and Peter had to make sure all fingers pointed to Sirius.

He decided to seek the help of the bartender at the Hog's Head, Aberforth. Hopefully the old man could get Peter into hiding without having to deal with Dumbledore or Mad-Eye.

He apparrated into Hogsmeade, and made his way to the bar, passing the numerous shops, including his own. He stopped in front of it. He was Peter Pettigrew, a shopkeeper, just like his father. His father, a great man, killed by the Death Eaters Peter had sold his friends out to. Had he done the wrong thing, not just by Lily and James and Harry, but by his own father?

No. Peter was surviving. He would not sit around and wait to be killed, even if it meant betrayal, even if it meant siding with his father's murderers. His father wouldn't want him to die, so he was doing what his father would have wanted him to do. He kept walking and found himself in front of the Hog's Head. This was where he had to put on his acting face.

He walked into the pub. Without looking up from cleaning glasses to see who it was, the bartender asked dryly, "Shouldn't you be out celebrating? Surely everyone is at more festive establishments than this one." Then he looked up and saw who it was. "Pettigrew. Sorry to hear about your friends. They were extremely brave."

Brave? No. Lily and James were good people, but they were stupid for joining the wrong side, not brave. But Peter, on cue, started to tear up. "They... they didn't deserve it. He...betrayed...He betrayed them!" Peter screamed the last bit with all his might, starting to feign sobbing.

"Who betrayed them?"

"Sirius. We all trusted him and he sold Lily and James out to the Death Eaters. He was one himself! Had us all fooled from the beginning! And now he's coming after me!"

Aberforth sighed. "What do you need, son? I can hide you upstairs, until I contact Albus and tell him to find Black and turn him over to the aurors. Do you need a place to stay?"

"Y-yes, p-p-please." Peter was impressing himself with the acting. He sat down at a table and buried his face in his arms, sobbing hard.

A look of pity washed over Aberforth's face. "I'll go get a room ready upstairs and fire-call Albus to set him on Black. Stay here." And he left upstairs.

Peter stopped his act and smiled. This was perfect. He fooled Aberforth, and Sirius would be arrested very soon. Tonight could even be the night, if it was Dumbledore himself searching for Sirius. He laughed at his own luck and stuck his head back up to look at the window of the pub.

And Sirius Black was looking back at him.

Sirius blasted the door of its hinges. "Expelliarmus!" The rat didn't have a wand now, and he was about to lose a lot more. "Hello, Peter. Funny I should run into you here. You see, I just visited James and Lily's place last night. Don't know if you heard but they're not doing so good at the moment. Dead, actually." Sirius let out a dark chuckle. "You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, now, would you? Because I happen to recall you being the one to be responsible for protecting James' family, Peter."

"S-Sirius!" Peter was shouting towards the door leading to the stairs that went to the next story. Sirius guessed he was trying to call for help. He continued screaming at the door. "What are you doing -"

"Silencio sermo!" And Peter was cut off. "No words from you tonight, Peter. I do want to hear you scream, though. So I cut off only your ability to talk." After silencing the doorways up the stairs and out to the street to keep the precious sounds of the rat's screams in, Sirius walked behind Peter's chair. The fat coward was too scared to turn around to look at him. "Reducto!" The chair beneath the rat was destroyed, and his head bounced off the end of the table before he hit the floor. Sirius then silently hovered a painting from the wall and sent it crashing to Peter, then he levitated Peter himself and flung him into the wall.

Peter squirmed on the floor, groaning, unable to form words. "Weak. Weak, weak ,weak," Sirius said with every step he took towards the rat. "Is that why you betrayed us, Peter? Were you just too afraid that your weakness would get you killed by the big, bad Death Eaters?"
Sobbing was all the pitiful rat could do on the floor. Sirius, well aware of the crazed look in his eyes, walked a few steps away, putting his wand behind him and thinking strongly, 'Levicorpus!' and the fat lump was now levitating in midair, held up by one ankle. He slashed at the air with a cutting curse, which hit Pettigrew's arm, then sent a bludgeoning hex at his face. Screams were mixed in with the sobs. Sirius relished in Peter's pain. "You're pitiful, Peter. You'll always gravitate towards those stronger than you, even if it means betraying those who would have put their lives on the line for you. You have no reason to live. You don't even deserve to suffer like this, so I'm going to put you out of your misery. Goodbye, Peter. Avada -"

"Depulso!" The unexpected voice had come from behind the bar, and Sirius was knocked onto the ground, though he was able to hold on to his wand. Peter dropped onto the floor with a crack and began rolling around in more pain. Sirius tightened the grip on his wand and shot up to face his new enemy. He was staring down his wand at Aberforth Dumbledore, the Hog's Head's bartender.

The two stared at each other, daring one another to make a move, until Aberforth shouted, "Pettigrew! Get out of here." The rat did not hesitate, grabbing his wand and disapparrating.

Sirius had him, and he lost him. He let out a frustrated roar and was about to curse Aberforth into oblivion, but the old man said, "Easy, Black. Put the wand down."

Put it down? Not until it had ended Pettigrew's life. "You don't understand, he's getting away!"

"Yes, why don't you go and get him, then? And while you're at it, I can go and fetch your werewolf friend and you can kill him as well. Nothing like a completed set of betrayed friends, is there?"

Sirius knew that what he was planning wasn't going to make him look any more innocent, nor was the insane demeanor that he was certainly displaying, but he didn't have time to waste trying to convince some old fool of his innocence. "I'm sorry," he said, and silently thought, 'Accio mug." Aberforth grunted as a glass flew into his head from behind on its way to Sirius. He disapparated before the glass could get to him, and it burst into shards on the opposite wall.

Sirius appeared on the other side of Hogsmeade, in an alley near Honeydukes. He had to figure out where Peter had gone. Merlin, he was so close! Another three syllables and his mission would have been complete. He couldn't fret on it now, though, not when the rat was scurrying about somewhere. Where could he have gone?

He knew that it was hard to just apparate to a random faraway place as instantly as Peter had disappeared when Aberforth told him to. It took thought to apparate, so Peter was at one of the first places to come to his mind, or someplace not very far, as Sirius had just gone to. Knowing the rat, Sirius thought that Peter would want cover and protection. There was a muggle village not far from Hogsmeade; he would have to start there.

He turned on the spot and found himself in the town square of the village. Ready to curse himself if he was wrong about Peter's location, he started to search the streets. There was some festival happening, so it definitely fit the need for cover that Sirius assumed Peter needed.

After finding nothing for five minutes, he resorted to turning into Padfoot and searching with his nose. Sure enough, the rat's scent was here. The trail of smell led Padfoot to a nearby neighborhood, where it looked like families were walking back from the festival. And there in the middle of the street, limping and out in the open like an idiot, was Wormtail.

The dog turned back into a man, out of the sight of any muggles. Then he took off in a sprint to the traitor.

"Peter!" he screamed at the top of his lungs. He now had the attention of every muggle on the street. "Peter Pettigrew!" The rat looked backward and with a child's whimper tried to limp away even faster, but it was pointless. Sirius was twenty, fifteen, ten yards away from him now. He sent a tripping jinx Peter's way, which helped the rat eat a load of concrete.

Sirius approached Peter slowly, the crazy smile on his face not going anywhere. He prepared his wand for the fatal blow as Peter got up and faced Sirius. Evidently the speechlessness jinx had worn off, and he spoke.

"L-Lily and James, Sirius. How could you!"

"Oh, no you don't," said Sirius in a dangerously low voice. He started for Pettigrew, but with a flick of the traitor's wand from behind his back, he was thrown back by a deafening explosion.

All was quiet for a moment, except for the ringing in Sirius' ears. For the second time in twenty four hours, he opened his eyes and sat up. To his horror, more than a dozen bodies, men, women, and children alike, littered the ground. He was the first one to rise, as everybody else stayed down, injured or worse.

And there, straight ahead, was Peter Pettigrew, with the most vile, gut-wrenching grin that had ever graced his face. Sirius wanted to stand up and finish him, punish him for the damage he had done both last night and tonight, but his muscles were aching and he was still in shock from Peter's spell, so he couldn't do more than sit up and watch everything happen in a haze.

With the silver glint of a knife and a painful gasp, Peter removed his own finger, which dropped to the floor along with a stream of blood. Sirius was confused beyond belief at what was going on, but it slowly came to him as Peter waved to goodbye him and transformed into the rat that he truly was. And as the sense of hearing came back to Sirius, all that he heard for a few seconds were the tiny feet of the rodent who betrayed them all, left James and Lily to be murdered, Harry orphaned, and all of these people hurt or dead. Wormtail was gone.

The only thing Sirius could do at this point was think how funny this all was. They trusted him, never once gave a second glance at his loyalty, not only because he was their friend of almost ten years, but because they didn't think he was strong enough to pose a threat to them. He volunteered Peter for the job of Secret-Keeper because he thought that nobody would even think about him as strong enough to hold such a secret. And here was the demonstration of Peter's true power, the pile-up of bodies over the past 24 hours. Peter the rat. Peter the traitor. Wormtail the Death Eater. Wormtail the murderer.

Sirius chuckled. It was funny, when he thought about it. He didn't know why, and could never explain it, but it was funny. The chuckling turned into laughter, and soon he was back to laying on his back, screaming with laughter. All he could think to do was laugh, so that's all he did, when people started waking up and screaming for their dead loved ones, when Ministry officials arrived to arrest him, when Mad-Eye Moody himself led the team of aurors that escorted him to Azkaban without a trial, without even checking the history of his wand. Then, when he arrived in his cell and they shut it and he felt the cold chill of the Dementors that he would feel until the day he died, the laughing stopped.

And Hell began.

Godric's Hollow, November 2nd 1981

For the muggles living in Godric's Hollow, the strangest crowds had been showing up ever since yesterday, the day after Halloween. Nobody had recollection of the awful explosion at the Potter residence the night before, but the crowds kept coming and staring at what non-magical beings saw as just a vacant lot.

Ministry of Magic officials had gone door to door altering the minds of all muggles in Godric's Hollow, making it common knowledge around the village that some ancient event happened at the spot that the lot now occupied, which was the reason it was so packed with visitors and would be for the foreseeable future. But they also were charmed to not have any interest whatsoever in what the event was or in talking to any of the visitors.

The second of November was the second day that hordes of Witches and Wizards gathered in the front of the Potter residence to see the place where He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named had finally fallen. The house appeared to be fine, except for the big hole in the top floor, where it happened, where You-Know-Who had perished.

All eyes were on the large hole, so when a rat scurried across the yard to the house, nobody paid any attention to it. The rat went around to the back of the house where he wouldn't be seen and suddenly changed into his human form.

Wormtail rummaged through his pockets until he found the spare key that the Potters had given him in case of emergencies. He let himself in the back door and went up the stairs of the Potter residence. He paused at the door of Harry's nursery, where it had all happened.

This was the tricky part. Keeping his back to the wall of the hallway, Wormtail aimed his wand into the room, careful not to let anyone see it through the hole in the wall. He concentrated hard and thought, 'Accio Dark Lord's Wand.' The wand flew past his own and hit the wall opposite Wormtail, and he felt success when no excitement could be heard outside due to a flying wand; nobody had seen it.

He bent down and picked it up, careful not to do anything crazy with it. Such a powerful wand surely wouldn't work right for him. With an accomplished smile on his face, Wormtail stuck his master's wand in his jacket pocket and went back down to the backyard before changing back into his rat form. All he would have to do was hide the Dark Lord's wand somewhere safe, somewhere only he would know it was, and then there would be no way to prove his involvement in the deaths of the Potters and those people on the street. The Dark Lord himself had given Peter his dark mark, so he didn't want Ministry people going into the history of the wand and finding out that he was a Death Eater. It was sheer luck that nobody who inspected the house in the last day-and-a-half had happened upon it. It also provided him with a way to curry favor with his master if there was the chance he returned.

The name of Pettigrew would remain untarnished; he was assumed dead, a hero who confronted the man responsible for his friends' deaths, and paid the ultimate price. There was even talk of being awarded the Order of Merlin, First Class. Not that bad. Sure, he could never see his mother again, never show his human face anymore, and would most likely need to stay in rat form for the rest of his life, but he was alive, and he would rather be a breathing rat than a stupid fool who died for a stupid cause.

On the way out of the yard, he was so distracted with his satisfaction in the way things turned out that he didn't watch where he was going, and ran into the small foot of someone in the front row of the large crowd in front of the yard. He tried to hurry away, but he was suddenly picked up by the child he had run into.

"Hi," said the boy. He had blazing red hair, and glasses, and couldn't have been more than five years old. "I'm –"

"Percy, what do you have there?" asked the boy's mother, who had the same red hair. Wormtail recognized her as the Prewett twins' younger sister, Molly Weasley. Percy quickly opened his jacket and shoved Wormtail into the inside pocket, saying, "Nothing, mum." Miraculously the woman didn't notice anything.

"Are they in there, mum?" asked another red-headed boy. Wormtail had counted four other children present before he was shoved in Percy's pocket. Two were younger than Percy, and two looked older, but none were quite Hogwarts-age. The one who had spoken was the younger-looking of the older ones. "Are the Potters and You-Know-Who in there?"

"No, Charlie, they've been taken away by the Ministry," said a male voice, who Wormtail assumed to be Molly's husband. "I still can't believe it. The Potters were such good people, and so young. It's a blessing that You-Know-Who's gone, but that doesn't make up for the loss."

"And their poor baby," said Molly. "Parents gone and godfather in Azkaban. I heard he's been adopted by muggles, oh the poor, poor, child."

"He should come and live with us!" piped up the oldest child. "What's one more Weasley kid?"

His father gave a low grunt that was almost a chuckle. "Hmm, I don't think it works that easy, Bill. Maybe little Harry will be better off away from all the attention he'd get in this world.

"Attention he deserves," said a bystander in the crowd. "The kid vanquished You-Know-Who at just a year old! He'll be greater than Dumbledore, even!"

"We'll see," Molly said softly to her husband. "According to Dumbledore, You-Know-Who may still be alive out there, just too weak to go on. Let us hope that it's just paranoia on Albus' part."

The Weasleys stayed quiet after hearing Dumbledore's fears, and after a few moments of Wormtail spacing out, he heard Mr. Weasley say, "Molly, I think the twins are starting to get tired. Maybe we should get home. The sitter's probably going crazy with Ron and Ginny."

"You're probably right. Come on, boys." Wormtail freaked out shortly as Percy moved to follow his family out of the crowd and back home. Then the boy spoke to him. "Glad mum didn't see you, she'd probably freak. You'll like the Burrow, Scabbers."

And as the newly named Scabbers wondered where the stupid name had come from and tried to fathom how he had just become a pet, he thought about the situation at hand. His master might possibly be out biding his time, waiting to get stronger, and that would be when Wormtail would return. He would be living amongst a Wizard family, one in league with Dumbledore, so news of the Dark Lord's return, if it ever happened, would reach him quickly.

And even if that never happened, the promise of being fed and taken care of kept Scabbers happy. The lone one of his friends to come out of this whole thing for the better. Sirius would rot in Azkaban, and Remus would spend his life thinking Peter was the saint who went down bravely, like James and Lily. He would not have to worry about a thing until his master returned and he could have the glory he had been promised when he became a Death Eater. Life was good.

Still in the nursery, having been taken unworthily from its maker and therefore not belonging to the Dark Lord and not able to be summoned with the words Wormtail had used, was the holly and phoenix feather wand, still in need of a wizard to choose.

A/N Hope I kept it interesting. Let me know if I did or not! Thanks!