Peter Pettigrew sat on his bed in the dark, his legs crossed before him, rattling his stones in the velvet bag. "What will we have for breakfast in the Great Hall?" he whispered and upturned the bag across his bed. They tumbled over one another, clicking as they fell on the duvet. He stared at them in concentration, then sighed and scooped them up. "I s'pose it was a bit too specific to expect from divination stones anyway," he muttered, shaking his head and sliding the stones one by one back into the bag. He glanced over to his right at James's empty bed, then to his left and Remus's bed, where Remus lay, half smothered by a furry black dog, whose back leg was kicking against the headboard as he dreamed, his claws scratching a beat on the wood. Peter tucked the stones away in the drawer of his nightstand, and decided that he'd waited there long enough - it was time to go find James.

Rolling across on his belly, Peter stood up, tucking his feet into his slippers. He stepped on something as he did, and looked down to see James's wand, knocked onto the floor beside his bed. His eyes widened, and he scooped the wand up, clutching it with both hands, then looking at James's bed. "Oh no," he muttered, "Oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no - no, no, no - oh dear." He grabbed his own wand and one of his lucky crystals that were laying on the window sill soaking up some of the moonlight, and rushed for the door, pausing for but a second to grab his pyjama robe. He struggled to get his arms through the holes as he rushed down the stairs to the common room, jabbing the two wands he carried into his pocket, and fighting to cinch the robe strings as he climbed out the portrait hole door and into the corridor.

"Too early for this nonsense," yawned the Fat Lady's portrait as Peter scurried down the hallway, his heart racing so hard he could feel it in the tips of his ears.

"Petey! Your feety - they make so much noises on the floors at this hour!" sang Peeves, zooming into view as Peter ran down the hallway toward the stairwell. Peeves hovered along side him, doing somersaults in the air by Peter's head, "Not Peeves's fault if you're caught, you naughty stink bomb!" He cackled and drifted down before Peter, "Unless of course I were to YELL THAT THERE'S A STU---"

"Quiet Peeves!" Peter said with as much confidence as he could muster. If he was being honest, the ghosts at Hogwarts scared him a good deal, and his voice trembled slightly speaking to Peeves.

Peeves cackled all the harder and blew a raspberry.

"I solemnly swear I'm up to no good, Peeves," Peter said. "So hush it before you mess me up."

Peeves clapped his hands, "No good, no good! Peevesy will makes it easy! What sort of no good are we doing?" He turned over so he hung upside down before Peter's face, "WHAT CAN PEEVES DO TO HELP THE PLAN?"

"Stop shouting," Peter begged, waving his hands at Peeve's mouth. His palms went right through the hazy being of Peeves, who shivered and flipped back over, above Peter and out of his stubby-arms length. Peter stared up at him. "Have you seen James?"

"Potty wee Potter?!" Peeves looked around, "Is him and Silly Sirius slinking about too?!" He did several turns in the air, then paused and looked at Peter, "ARE YOU ALL UP TO NO GOOD?"

"Yes, yes!" Peter said hurriedly, "I solemnly swear we're all up to no good -- stop shouting! You'll get Filch headed up here if you don't give it a rest."

Peeves snickered evilly, "Filchy's busy in the courtyard, chasing Regulus Black." When Peter looked surprised, Peeves asked, "Mischief must run in the family." He wiped an imaginary tear of pride from his eyes, then cackled and flipped over again. He started to zoom off when Peter stopped him.

"Wait! Peeves! You're sure you haven't seen James?"

Peeves hovered over the chasm that the moving staircases rotated over as Peter's case shuddered and moved beneath him in a wide arch. Peter hugged the banister for balance. "Seen James, no, but we both know Potty-Pot-Potter can go see through!" He spun about. "ScuUUUze me, but Peevsey has some chamber pots to spill!"

And before Peter could reply, the poltergeist was gone, disappearing down a corridor on the fifth floor. Peter scowled and doubled his grip as the staircase banged into place and he nearly lost his footing. "Bloody ghost," he muttered, shaking his head, "Stinking bloody ghost, only listens to the other three, doesn't like me, never did... bloody ghost..."

He hurried down the stairs, muttering and flinching, trying to avoid being on the cases as they moved, leaping to get to the bottom before the last one could disconnect, and ran down the corridor to the staircase that led into the Great Hall. He hustled down it and looked about the entrance hall. It was empty. He sat on the final step of the staircase and withdrew his divination stones, shaking them in the velvet bag and concentrating very hard about which way to go from here... he threw the stones.

Out.

He looked up at the entrance door, large and looming before him, and he groaned. He'd been very much hoping that James hadn't left the castle - especially without his wand at hand. The further from the dormitory he'd gotten without a sign of James, the more worried Peter had become so that now he was certain dark magic was occurring. He shivered thinking of the Dark Lord and the horrible way that he had hissed when he spoke the name Wormtail.

His stomach turned at the thought of it.

Peter collected his stones, put them in the bag, tucking them away, and took a deep breath.

A moment later, unseen in the grass, a rat was running across the grounds, bounding through the grass, his tail dragging along behind him, whiskers twitching. The pale moonlight lit up the ground, but not enough to make the rat plainly visible. He was virtually invisible. And it was in that ratty form that he crested the hill that overlooked the grounds from a higher vantage and saw a light on in the stables. He raced down, in the door, and scurried through the darkness until he was peering through squinted eyes at the heel of James Potter's trainer... in the distance... Regulus Black.

"Bloody hell, Regulus," James was saying with a bit of a chuckle to his voice, "You can't possibly think that I wasn't absolutely knackered with fright?"

Regulus was frazzled and scared looking, his eyes wide and Peter, in rat form, could smell desperation secreting from him. "I mean, I saw you face him and not be afraid," Regulus pressed.

"Then I put off a great illusion and fooled you is all."

Peter hurried around the perimeter of the room. He didn't know if he should reveal himself or not - some part of him knew he should, he supposed, but part of him was dreadfully interested in what was going on between James and Regulus, why they were meeting like this. Sirius would be most interested in knowing about it, after everything that had happened, and Peter was keen to gain some favor back with Sirius after their last couple fights. Though he didn't know why he much cared what Sirius thought of him - he really ought not to - but perhaps if he was to tell Sirius about James and Regulus meeting up...

"There's something going on that I'm trying to piece together," Regulus said.

Peter froze beneath the couch upon which Regulus had sat down. There was weight in Regulus's voice, a heaviness that seemed to ground Peter right to his spot. His whiskers twitched nervously. Something going on? Something more? Again? The rat shivered right down his long wormy tail. He inched closer, looking to hear more of what Regulus had to say.

"I don't dare at saying too much," Regulus continued, "But if I do figure it out one day, will you help me?"

"What?" James sounded as interested and fearful as Peter felt.

"I can't say too much," Regulus repeated.

"Help you to do what, though?" James asked.

Regulus's words were thick, barely above a whisper, intensifying their meaning: "Whatever it is that needs doing to stop him."

Peter felt a twinge of fear. Another battle against him? Another time facing the Dark Lord? He didn't want anything to do with it. He didn't want anything more to do with the Dark Lord. Every interaction with Voldemort had left Peter feeling just that much colder, that much more removed. He willed James to tell Regulus off, to see he'd been hero enough in this war and didn't need any further involvement.

"I'd do anything to stop him, Regulus," James answered. "Anything."

Peter shivered. He wasn't listening as James and Regulus started talking again above him, he was too busy feeling his little rat guts churning unhappily. Why hadn't James learned his lesson yet? Why couldn't he just stop meddling and enjoy being alive for once in his life? Peter felt the urge to go back to the castle - he wanted Wendy, he wanted to be reminded that there were good things in the world, things that Voldemort couldn't destroy, couldn't touch. Things that made life worth living. That's what James Potter needed, Peter thought, he needed someone to remind him that life was worth living, to take away this nasty careless streak and make him see that some things were more important than risking your life for no good reason against the Dark Lord.

After all, they were just kids.

Nothing they could do would really be of any help in stopping the Dark Lord, would it?

He thought of how recklessly he'd braved Voldemort in Havmork and he felt a deep twist in his belly again. He'd saved James, that was good at least. But it hadn't stopped Voldemort, had it? If You Know Who was still at large, still making plans like Regulus was implying he was, then it hadn't done a bloody thing to stop him.

None of the times they'd faced him had done.

Peter suddenly realized that James and Regulus were leaving and he scurried, trying to keep up, but they walked a good deal faster than him on their long, human legs, and he watched as the stable doors closed behind them, the light extinguished, smoke quietly coming up from the candle. He shivered and after a moment, turned back into his human self, sitting on the floor of the stables, staring at the door after James. Tears were in his eyes.

Would James Potter insist on playing at being the hero? Would he never learn his lesson? And Peter covered his palms and cried in the dark, afraid for his friend, and what sticky ends that brazen attitude could lead to - for not only James, but for Sirius, Remus, and himself as well. There are only so many times, after all, Peter thought, that one can face pure evil unscathed.

"Peter Pettigrew..."

The echo was eerie, ghostly, and seemed to bring a chill in the air all around him... and it was followed by a low, cheerless laugh.

Peter let out a cry and popped back into his rat form, running full tilt for the gap in the door of the stable through which he'd fit before, tearing up the grounds toward the castle, his heart racing as hard as a little rat's heart could race.

"Where the fuck is Wormtail?"

It was next morning, the sun was coming in through the high windows over the beds in the dormitory, revealing an empty bed between James's and Remus's. Peter's sheets were held up by Sirius Black, knotted about his fist.

"Isn't he there?" James rolled over and, seeing Sirius holding up Peter's bedding, he took his glasses from the night stand and shoved them on his face. "Well he was there when I got back - I thought, anyway."

"Got back?" Sirius looked even more concerned than he did before. "Got back from what?"

"Went for a walk is all," James answered.

Remus was opening the Marauders Map and looking through the pages and sections on it dutifully.

Sirius said, "Bet the little bugger's gone to get breakfast early. Check the kitchens."

"I started there," Remus said dismissively.

James leaned over the bed and opened the drawer of the nightstand. "Oi, my wand's missing."

"Did you lose it on the grounds?" Sirius demanded.

"I - no, not exactly. I didn't take it with me when I went." James smiled stupidly.

Sirius looked annoyed, "Bloody hell, Potter."

"What? I'm alright, aren't I? It's Peter who's gone missing."

"Here he is," Remus spoke up. "He's -- well what the bloody hell is he doing there?"

"Where?" James and Sirius both asked at once.

"Outside. By the stables," Remus looked up.

Sirius guffawed, "He's probably gone to check for a pig to make his own bloody bacon, the fucking idiot." He tossed the blankets down on the bed.

James's eyebrows had furrowed though at the word stables, and he asked, "Maybe I was wrong about him being here when I got back... Were his pillows like that before you went and tore everything off the bed, Sirius?"

"I thought it was him under there," Sirius said, "The way the pillows were." He mimed ripping the sheets off the bed, "I was trying to be a pain in the arse."

"Well you're doing a fine job of it," Remus said as he folded the map.

Sirius gave him the finger.

"I wasn't going to mention it, 'til later, when I'd processed it a bit more, but -- last night your brother invited me off for a chat at the Care of Magical Creatures library," James said, "And I'm curious if perhaps Peter followed me? Although I didn't see him anywhere at all..."

"Did you notice any rats?" Remus pointed out.

"What did my brother want?" Sirius asked. "And why didn't you take me along? And bloody hell your wand, too, while you're at it?" Then, "And what the hell would Peter have followed you for? Did you invite him?"

"No, I didn't invite Peter, but perhaps he heard me leave - maybe he knew I forgot my wand or something," James replied, "And I didn't want to wake you. And I told you - Regulus just fancied a chat."

"A chat."

"Yes."

"In the middle of the night?" Remus asked, "Couldn't wait until morning?"

"Of course not," Sirius said, "It's Regulus. He's spoiled. He has to get what he wants right when he wants it or else he pitches fit." He turned back to James. "What did the blighter want?"

James said, "I think the more important question is why is Peter still out there. I can tell you about Regulus later." James reached for a jumper. "C'mon." Remus grabbed a bar of chocolate - just incase it was needed - and Sirius groaned and followed after the other two, tugging on his leather jacket as he went, muttering about Peter always being a pain in the rump.

Outside, it was warming up a good deal and the sun was shining over the grounds, sparkling on the lake's surface. A lot of people were out feeding the squid toast, saying goodbye, since it was the last day at Hogwarts. In the distance, smoke rose up over the trees where the Express was resting at the station at Hogsmeade. Sirius, Remus, and James made their way over the grass to the stables, and Sirius started looking through the grass as Remus shook the Map open.

"Pete?" James looked around.

"Come out, come out, where ever you are, Peter!" Sirius called.

Remus consulted the map, squinting at it a moment, then turned toward a large tuft of grass a few steps away. He drew his wand. "Accio Rat."

There was a great squealing cry and the rat came flying up out of the brush, thumping gently into Remus's outstretched palm. It's tail waggled and whiskers twitched, and then with a pop it swelled up and Remus dropped him down and soon there was Peter Pettigrew sitting before them, staring down at the grass, as though ashamed.

"Well hello Peter," Sirius said.

"Is he gone?" Peter asked tremulously.

"Is who gone?" Remus asked, looking about.

"Mopsus," Peter answered.

"Mopsus is bloody dead as a doornail, Pete," Sirius said carelessly.

Peter shook his head, "I saw him. Or heard him rather. Here. Last night."

James, Sirius, and Remus exchanged looks.

"I think you might've been dreaming, mate," Remus said.

Peter shook his head, "No, no, he was calling my name again... He was! He - after James and Regulus left, I heard him and --"

"Oi, you were there?" James asked, suddenly defensive.

Peter turned red, and continued, "And he said my name. Just like before. Could I still be cursed do you think?"

"I think Remus was right and you were dreaming, Wormy," Sirius replied.

Peter shook his head, "But I wasn't."

Remus reached out a hand and tugged Peter to his feet. "C'mon. We've got to get back up there for breakfast so we can leave on the Express. Pete, you can tell us about everything on the train home."

Peter hesitated, then took Remus's hand in his own, and followed as they headed across the grounds.