MetaFic

31 October 1981, 8:05 AM

Sirius checked his watch one last time, and then stepped into green flames at the Leaky Cauldron.  At exactly 8:05am he stepped out of green flames and into the Headmaster’s office at Hogwarts.  He quickly took in the scene before him.  Albus Dumbledore stood before his desk, smiling.  Off to one side of the desk in three chairs sat the Longbottoms, Neville bouncing on Alice’s knee, and Alastor Moody.  On the other side of the desk were three empty chairs.  Sirius returned Dumbledore’s smile and nodded to the three Aurors.

“Sirius!  This is hardly a surprise is it?”  He, Moody, and the Longbottoms looked expectantly at the fireplace.

After a moment Sirius cleared his throat and said, “No one else is coming.  They are already in hiding.  I only came here to let you know Lily performed the Charm earlier this morning.”

As Frank and Alice looked at each other in surprise and Moody frowned, Dumbledore sat back onto his desk top suddenly looking every bit his nearly 100 years of age.

Moody looked at Dumbledore.  “She can do a charm that advanced?”

“I am afraid, Alastor, that a Fidelius Charm is well within Lily’s capabilities,” Dumbledore sighed.  He smiled ruefully, “She is only the second person this century awarded the title of ‘Adept’ for Charms.  It was all the more remarkable because she earned it as a result of her N.E.W.T. performance.  Filius was quite proud, said he was glad to finally have some company.”

Moody looked to the Longbottoms and then back to Dumbledore.  “So where does that leave us?”

“Nothing has changed regarding your arrangement.”

“Headmaster, James and Lily meant no disrespect, but the compromise of the Unplottable spell shook their confidence in the Order.  They are worried that somehow the spy might compromise the Charm too.”  Moody looked sharply at Dumbledore.

“I… ”  Dumbledore paused and looked out one of his office windows.  “I understand their concern.  I hope this does not place them in greater peril, being separated from the Order’s help.”

Sirius lightly snorted.  

“Be that as it may,” Dumbledore sighed again, “I do have an artefact for use in case of emergency.  If for whatever reason the Charm is violated a Concutio Orb attuned to the Charm will change from blue to bright red.  This set of three are under the same linking spell.  What happens to one happens to all.  Give these to Lily; she will know how to attune them with her Charm.  One stays with them, one with the Secret-Keeper, and the third will remain here in my office.  I truly wish she had these when she cast the Charm, but adapting it after the fact shall suffice.”

Dumbledore stood and picked up two of six small globes that set on the desk next to him.  They glowed with the same blue as the manifestations of Lily’s Charm.

Sirius looked at the globes, his face etched with concern.  “Headmas… Albus, you know their safety is worth more than my life.  Lily told me this Charm is inviolate, but you’re telling me it isn’t?  How could the Charm be broken, and them harmed, without my knowledge?”

Giving the two globes to Sirius, Dumbledore quietly said, “If the object or person guarded is destroyed or killed, the Charm will cease.  Rest easily, if you can, that the death of the Secret-Keeper will not lift it.  These Orbs are a last hope, a hope that not everyone has perished before you and I can bring help.  It is not much, but it is all I can do now.”

He looked down at the carpet and Sirius had the uncomfortable feeling that Dumbledore was close to weeping.

“I’ll get these to Lily and James immediately.  Mine will not leave my person until Voldemort is dead.”  

Sirius turned to leave Alice said, “Give Lily our love.  Let her know we are thinking of them.”

“I know they send theirs to you,” replied Sirius softly.

Sirius was reaching for the Floo Powder when a surprised Dumbledore asked, “Aren’t you going to give me their location?”

Sirius pursed his lips and ran his hand through his hair.  “In time, Albus.  We will tell you in time.”  He stopped before the fireplace, a flurry of emotions passing over his face before he nodded to himself.  “I can say this, they left London.  Did James ever tell you where he and I spent part of the summer after our sixth year?”

Dumbledore’s brow furrowed and his eyes clouded with confusion for a moment.  Then they went wide in surprise.

Stepping in to the flames after calling for the Hogs Head Inn, Sirius heard Moody growl, “Damn it Albus, just how deep is this spy…”

*******

31 October 1981, 8:15 AM

While Sirius was meeting with Dumbledore, a pack of rats was exploring the centuries of accumulated detritus along the floor of a subterranean passage way at an abandoned abbey.  The whisper of frantic voices forced all but one to scurry away.  This last rat stood still around a corner from the voices, and appeared to be listening.

A man spoke, his whispered words thick with tension and fear.  “Neither team was successful?  Neither?”

A woman’s voice hissed in response.  “One team found the Potter’s flat, but they clearly had fled.  The second team had the Unplottable spell broken, but the Longbottom house wasn’t there at all.  They knew where it should be, but still couldn’t find it.  The Dark Lord is not pleased!  We have lost considerable favour with him this morning.  We must be prepared to pay the price.”

A flicker of desire appeared in the eyes of Bellatrix LeStrange, while her husband, Rodolphus, merely shuddered.

“What good is our spy to us?” Bellatrix continued.  “When I get through with Pettigrew he will be begging to suffer the Dark Lord’s wrath, rather than mine!”

Although not possible, it appeared the rat actually blanched.

“Bella,” Rodolphus chided, “for once control your blood lust.  We must find out what happened.  When we are sure, then you can play with our spy to your heart’s content,” he sneered.

Around the corner the visibly shaking rat transformed in to Peter Pettigrew and meekly approached the couple.  “Mistress Bellatrix, Master Rodolphus, you asked me to m… meet you?”

Rodolphus glanced at his wife and flicked his wand.  Peter gaped soundlessly for a moment as Bellatrix snarled “Crucio” and he writhed on the filthy floor in silent agony.  She lifted the curse after several minutes and Rodolphus let Peter gasp in silence for a few moments before he removed the silencing spell.

“Mistress Bellatrix, what… what did I do to… to deserve this?” Peter whimpered in pain.

“It was what you didn’t do you gutless squib.  Eight months of work for nothing!  How were they tipped off?  The only reason your worthless life hasn’t yet ended is because we want to know how our next spy might fail us.  You are still alive because you have given us some useful information it the past.  What do you know now?”

Rodolphus frowned at a flash of anger in Pettigrew’s eyes.  Then it was gone, replaced by a pleading look and simpering voice.  “Mistress Bellatrix I do not know how those fools with the Order discovered our success at compromising the other spell.  But I have found new information the Dark Lord will find very useful.”

“Tell us now, maybe you will see today’s sunset.”

Peter gulped conspicuously.  “I… I pre… prefer not to Mistress.  I want to give my report directly to the Dark Lord.  With you there… of course.”

Rodolphus spat on Peter and looked down at him on the floor.  Bellatrix squatted to put her face near Peter’s and hissed, “You common filth.  You dare make demands of us!  Your pathetic scraps of information are not worth our lives.”  Standing she began, “Avada…”

“Wait!” Peter rasped.  “The Dark Lord eventually knows all.  Killing me now will cost him much in time and effort.  Do you want to risk that?  I serve the Dark Lord under your patronage.  I am sure he is angry at what happened this morning.  What I know will erase any thought he has that you failed him.  Anything good I bring is a reflection on you, isn’t it?” Peter begged.  “You won’t be disappointed!”

The LeStranges looked at each other and Bellatrix shrugged.

“Fine, Pettigrew,” she said with a wave of her hand.  “We will allow you to speak your piece.  Mind you, if you waste the Dark Lord’s time you never see this corridor again.  Do I make my self understood?” she snarled venomously.

Peter whined as he got off the floor, “Perfectly Mistress, perfectly.”  The LeStranges merely stared at Peter as if he were something revolting they found on a sidewalk.  They kept him pinned by that stare until a cold, high voice called out through the door, “Rodolphus, Bellatrix; see me now!”

Rodolphus opened the door and roughly shoved Peter ahead of him.  As he stumbled into the room he caught a glimpse of two people leaving by a second door.  One’s cloak hood was already up; the other showed a flash of white-blonde hair before that hood was in place, covering all.

Lord Voldemort paced before a chair near a darkened fireplace.  He turned as the trio entered the chamber and sneered, “Well, well.  The LeStranges with their spy.”

Peter kept his head bowed and his eyes lowered.  He hoped by holding his hands firmly at his side he might control their shaking.

Voldemort stopped pacing and abruptly sat in the chair.  He lowered his hood, sat back into the seat, and put a hand on each arm of the chair.  Peter risked a glance and saw the misshapen, melted, features of Voldemort’s face.  He couldn’t help but gasp in horror.  Voldemort sat, stretching the silence until the fear took on a physical presence.

Bellatrix broke first, “My Lord, we… ”

Voldemort held up a hand and silenced her.  His tone was conversational despite the palpable menace in the room.

“Have any of you read Chaucer?”  He was answered with confused and frightened looks.  “No?  He was a Muggle author who lived and wrote several hundred years ago, before the Secrecy Act separated our worlds.  He was best known for a series of tales he collected and published.  And so, today, I feel a bit like Chaucer, everyone is coming to me with stories.”  His voice changed to a sharp growl.  “So Bella, what is your tale?”

“Our s… spy k…. knows, he will tell you,” Bellatrix stammered.  She shoved Pettigrew forward, then leapt back to stand by her husband.

“Pettigrew.  So I finally meet the LeStrange’s spy in person.”  Voldemort raised what passed for an eyebrow.  “Tell me something I may not know,” he challenged.

Peter tried, unsuccessfully, to tamp down his fear, to keep his thoughts coherent.  “Your Gra… I mean Your D… Dark…Darkness… I me… mean… m… my Lord.  I know that Dum… Dumbledore and the Ord… Order were aware of the compromise of the Unplottable Spell - ”

“This is obviously something I am already aware of; you waste my time,” Voldemort interrupted impatiently.

“Bu… but Dumbledore only told the Potters and Longbottoms late last night.  So he must have only found out last night himself.  He has a spy among your Death Eaters, but I haven’t yet found who it is.”

Voldemort leaned forward at this news.  “Really?  Last night?  Now I am learning something.  What else do you know?”

“W… well m… Master, Dumbledore wanted to place the two families under a Fidelius Charm.  He offered to be the Potter’s Secret-Keeper and the Longbottom’s too.”

“You are sure of this?” Voldemort responded sharply.

“Yes Master.  Since the birth of their… whelps he has treated each family the same.  But the Potters turned him down.  James… the blood-traitor and his Muggle… mudblood wife performed the Charm themselves.  They used it after fleeing their flat in London.”

“They refused Dumbledore?  Interesting.  His favourites within his littler Order no longer trust in his supposed protection,” Voldemort smiled.  “What about the Longbottoms?” he demanded.

“I… I don’t know Master.  I believe they refused too.  You are right… of course.  Both families have lost faith in the ability of the Order to protect them.”

“You believe?  I warn you, your beliefs,” he spat, “are of little interest to me Pettigrew.  I want the names of the Secret-Keepers.”

Peter stammered “M… Master, I don’t know who the L… Longbottom’s Secret-Keeper might be.”  Then he raised his head, met Voldemort’s eyes and smiled; “But the Potter’s Secret-Keeper is me.”

For a moment Voldemort did nothing but fix Peter with his stare.  Peter’s eyes grew large and he sucked in a breath.  And then Voldemort laughed.  It was not a laugh that filled the room with mirth.

“And the Longbottoms?  Wormtail… You will find their Secret-Keeper.  Seek as if your very life depends upon it.  Bellatrix, Rodolphus, your spy has done well!  You have Lord Voldemort’s gratitude.”

“Wormtail,” he continued “I will display my gratitude to you now.  Step forward and bare your left forearm.”

“Master, NO!” shouted Bellatrix.

Voldemort looked at her, infuriated by her interruption.  Pointing his wand at her he hissed “Crucio.”

Initially Bellatrix moaned with what sounded like pleasure, but as Voldemort continued the cursed she began to shriek in pain and fear.  Transfixed by the horror of this scene Peter wasn’t sure how long Bellatrix was held under the curse, but her voice gave out before Voldemort lifted his wand.

While Bellatrix lay spasming on the floor, Voldemort asked “Rodolphus, do you wish to argue with me as well?”

Rodolphus bowed his head and meekly answered, “I do not, Master.”

“Wormtail, step forward now!” commanded Voldemort.

Hesitantly moving toward the Dark Lord, Peter pulled his robe sleeve clear of his left arm.

Voldemort produced a silver dagger and ordered Peter to make a cut in the middle of his arm, deep enough to draw blood.  Peter trembled as he cut himself and then handed back the dagger.  Voldemort sneered at him and used Peter’s robe to wipe the blood from the dagger’s blade.  Voldemort then sliced his left thumb.  He placed his thumb over Peter’s cut so their blood mingled.  Peter was surprised at the strength of the Dark Lord’s grip and the deathly cold of his hand.

The Voldemort took his wand and used the tip to press his thumb into Peter’s arm.  Peter was about to yell in fright when Voldemort called out, “Morsmordre!”

Now Peter screamed as his arm felt like a red hot spike was driven through it.  Voldemort released his grip and stared impassively as Peter cradled his left arm, whimpering.

“You are now in my service Wormtail,” he said.

Peter looked at his arm and saw the Dark Mark imprinted in his skin.  The LeStranges, Bellatrix leaning unsteadily against Rodolphus, looked stunned for a moment and then bowed low.

“Wormtail, you will meet me here at 10:30 tonight.”  He held his hand, palm out, as Bellatrix began to speak.  “You wish to tell me my business again?” he asked.

Wide eyed, she shook her head.

“This is just a little errand for me and… Wormtail.  He will have the honour of accompanying me as I pay a visit to the Potters.  After that we shall call upon the Longbottoms.  You are dismissed.”

Outside the chamber Rodolphus shoved Peter face down onto the floor and pressed on the back of Peter’s neck with his foot.  Bellatrix leaned toward his face and spoke in a quiet but very raspy voice, “You may wear the Dark Mark but don’t even think you are our equal now.  And what is this ‘Wormtail’ tripe the Dark Lord speaks of?”

With his face pressed to the filthy floor, Peter’s words were slightly slurred.  “Mistress, Wormtail is an old school nick-name some of the Order know me by.  I didn’t think it was worthy of your knowledge.”

Bellatrix savagely kicked Peter in the ribs.  “We decide what is worthy of our knowledge, not you.  You played us for fools before the Dark Lord.  You think now you’re a big man DON’T YOU!” she raged.  “Trying to replace Rodolphus and me as the Dark Lord’s favourite?  Our Master may take you alone with him, but we will want the complete story from you, everything, as soon as he dismisses you.  I want to hear of the Potter’s and Longbottom’s deaths first hand.”

They both kicked Peter in the ribs several more times, as a way of emphasising their point.  They turned and walked toward the Apparition point, missing the glowering look Peter gave them as he struggled to lift himself off the floor.

*******

31 October 1981, 11:15 AM

James was in the lounge gently tossing a children’s quaffle to Harry, who pushed it through a golden hoop in the corner of the room, and Lily was in the kitchen preparing a lunch when they heard a tapping pattern at the front door; one tap, then three then two.  James got up to answer, while Lily pulled Harry into the kitchen behind her, grabbed her wand and covered James from the counter.

“How long was Lily Evan’s sixth year Charms final bewitched to read in gobbledegook?” James asked, while Lily huffed from the kitchen.

“Five minutes” replied Sirius.  “Has she ever forgiven you for that?  If I remember she was quite upset she couldn’t answer all the extra credit questions in time.  So James, just who is the most beautiful witch in England these days?”

“Hmm… That is a difficult question Padfoot.  There are so many to choose from.  Ow!!  Lily that hurt!  Okay.  Lily Potter.”  James opened the door.

“You know, if I am going to watch another Potter-Evans fight, I might as well find a comfortable chair and a butterbeer!”

Harry ran over to Sirius, holding out a child sized quaffle, “Unc Pawfud, Unc Pawfud!  Dada an I pay kiditch, we saysers!  Here da kawful.”

Sirius laughed, scooped a giggling Harry into his lap, and took the quaffle.

“And how is our future quidditch team Captain and Head Boy today?  So…” he said looking at his friends, “I just came from Dumbledore’s office.  He thinks I am the Secret-Keeper and I did nothing to dissuade him.  Frank and Alice apparently chose Alastor as theirs.  Oh by the way Lily, Alice sends her love.  I told her the same for you, if that was alright.”  Lily smiled and nodded.

“Dumbledore wasn’t pleased with your decision, but he understands why you did the Charm yourselves.”  James and Lily shared a looked and then they both sighed.  Sirius watched them for a moment.  “Anyway he gave me a set of Concutio Orbs.  He also gave a set to the Longbottoms.  He has one for each of you in his office, and there is one for each Secret-Keeper, and each family.  He feels if the Charm were broken - ”

Lily shook her head violently.  “The Charm can not be broken.  The only way to lift the Charm is a negation spell, or to kill the people it covers.  Did Albus say why he was that concerned about a failed Fidelius Charm?”

Sirius shrugged.  “I don’t know.  My guess is the compromise of the Unplottable spells shook his confidence.  He seemed to think he might be able to arrive with help before all are dead.  He said it is the best he can do given the circumstances.  I brought one Orb for you, and I will keep the second.  Albus is keeping a third.  He said you can attune the Orbs to your Charm?”

Lily frowned, and then nodded her head.  “I’ll do it before you leave.”

“You’re not giving one to Peter?” James asked.

“No.  If word gets out the Secret-Keepers carry one, it is more misdirection away from him.  Besides, who would you want in a pinch, me or Wormtail?”

James grunted and gave a sad smile, “Good point.”

“So Prongs, just because you are safely hidden for all eternity doesn’t mean your hospitality is in the bin, does it?  Am I going to be offered one of Lily’s famous sandwiches and a butterbeer?”  

A moment later Lily brought out three plates with sandwiches and crisps; James brought half a dozen bottles of butterbeer from the chill box.  The three adults ate in silence watching Harry toddling back and forth across the room holding the quaffle and stuffing it through the goal hoop.

Sirius helped James clean up as Lily set the two Orbs on the table.  She closed her eyes and sang quietly, moving her hands as though conducting an orchestra.  Opening her eyes she watched as the Orbs’ glow brightened to a dazzling white, then returned to normal.  She let out a long breath and handed one Orb to Sirius.

Harry tried to grab it and Sirius sighed, “Not this one Bambi - ”

“Hey!” snapped James good-naturedly.

“ – this one isn’t a quaffle.  Here, take the pass!” and he handed the play quaffle to Harry.

After a spirited 10 minute game of “kiditch” Sirius sat back in a lounge chair panting.  “You are too much for me Harry!”

He turned to face James and Lily.  “I want to transform and scout the area while it is still daylight, but I don’t plan on seeing you again for a bit.  Of course if you were to see a large black dog wandering near the cottage, a juicy bone would make a nice treat,” he said with a smile.

“What about Peter?” Lily asked.  “Will you check on him too?”

“Not to fear Lily, we are meeting tomorrow for breakfast and then we’ll set our next meeting date.  If we only arrange for the next one there is less of a chance for ambush.”

Sirius transformed to a dog and back several times in front of Harry, who clapped and laughed at the changes.  “Pawfud, sit!” he said hugging the dog’s neck.

The dog finally looked at James and barked.  James opened the cottage door and let the dog out.  Watching Padfoot disappear into the woods, he let out a worried sigh then stepped back into the cottage and closed the door.

*******

31 October 1981, 10:30 PM

Seated in his chamber room, Lord Voldemort glared at the mantelpiece clock as it began to chime.  On the fifth chime he stabbed his wand toward a rat lurking in a corner.  With a faint crack the rat transformed into Peter Pettigrew.

“Very good… Wormtail.”  Peter gasped.  “I am pleased to see you are prompt.  Lord Voldemort knows everything about his servants.  Even the fact that the LeStrange’s are unaware their spy is an unregistered animagus.”

Peter gasped again and fell on his knees.

“Master, p… please.  It is how I am effective as a spy.  I didn’t wish Mistress Bellatrix to know, she would not… not understand.”

Voldemort said nothing but rose and began to pace, circling the kneeling Pettigrew, eyeing him constantly.

After several minutes he said, “We are wasting time.  Hand me the addresses.”  Peter handed him a slip of paper.  Voldemort sneered, “Harry, James, and Lily Potter are located at Forty nine Bowman’s Lane, Godric’s Hollow.  Very good Wormtail.  Now hand me the Longbottoms location.”

Peter hesitated.  “Master I have not been able to discover their Secret-Keeper.”

“Crucio!” Voldemort drawled.  Peter screamed in agony on the floor.  “I told you I wanted the Longbottoms too.  I do not look favourably upon failure.”  After a few moments he lifted the curse.

Peter panted and groaned, “Master, it is not easy to find the Longbottom’s Secret-Keeper.  I am certain it is not Dumbledore; I was told it is an Auror friend of the Longbottoms.  I have narrowed that field down to four Wizards.”

Voldemort hissed savagely, “Tonight’s deaths are important to me Wormtail.  Personally important.  I must now make different arrangements due to your failure.  Two days.  I give you two days to find out.  In two day’s time someone dies and death will be neither quick nor painless.  I will show you mercy and let it be your choice whether it is the Longbottoms, or you, who die.”

“Y… yes m… Master.  I… I have made a p… Portkey to take us to Godric’s Hollow.  We c…can not Apparate there directly.”

Taking hold of the proffered plate, Voldemort commanded, “Activate it; you have wasted enough of my time tonight.”

Pettigrew touched his wand to the plate and they were gone.

*******

31 October 1981, 10:50PM

“Wormtail, what is this place,” Voldemort snapped.  “If your incompetence has led us astray…”

“Master, the Potters were most careful in protecting the cottage.  We couldn’t Apparate or Portkey directly to it.  This is Bowman’s Lane; the cottage is ahead about 100 yards off the lane.”

A flicker of appreciation crossed Voldemort’s face.  “They were careful, weren’t they?”  Then he sneered, “Pity they had such a poor choice in friends.”  Peter cowered under his gaze.

“Master, before we continue I beg, I mean I…,” Peter thought quickly, knowing the right phrase was crucial, “I… puh… petition… for another mercy from you.”

Voldemort stared at him, outraged.  “You presume far too much. Wormtail,” he spat.  “I will deal with you when I am done tonight!”

“It is not for me, Master,” Peter replied quickly.  “The mudblood wife, the Potter line ends tonight regardless of whether she lives or dies.  She is not… she is not important.”

“But she showed you compassion, didn’t she; when the others didn’t.  You feel in her debt.  This is a weakness!” Voldemort hissed.

“But Master…” Peter paused for effect.  “Master,” he repeated softly, “by sparing her tonight the debt is turned and she will now be in mine.  And… and she can bear witness to your power and live with regret for the rest of her life.”

Voldemort cocked his head and again circled around Peter.  “There is more to you than the LeStranges were willing to admit.”  Then he actually smiled.  “There is more to you than they actually know.  Very good, Wormtail.  I am impressed.  I will consider your… petition… for mercy.”  He sneered the last word.

Voldemort turned toward the cottage while Peter followed.  They were about 10 yards from the door when Voldemort stopped.  “Remain in the shadows Wormtail.  Your further assistance is definitely not needed.”

As Peter melted into the shadows, Voldemort stepped forward.  Drawing his wand he pointed it toward the front door and blew it in with a crash.

Inside the cottage, James and Lily were relaxing on the sofa before the fire.  Harry was asleep and they were snuggled next to each other, playfully arguing whether a boy’s or girl’s name was proper for their new baby.

James reacted instantly as the door was smashed in to the room.  "Lily, take Harry and go! It’s him! Go! Run! I’ll hold him off…"

He shouted, “Protego,” and drew a large shield to protect Lily as she ran up the stirs.  James then sent a combination of powerful bludgeoning and stunning spells to prevent Voldemort from cursing Lily.  Voldemort was forced to bat away the spells and growled as he saw Lily disappear up the stairs.  He immediately cast Avada Kedavra at James.  James frowned at the instant use of an Unforgivable but whirled and reappeared several feet to his left, still covering the approach to the stairs.  A cold rage filled him as he cast Avada Kedavra back at Voldemort.

Voldemort’s eyes widened in surprise, he had not expected a member of Dumbledore’s Order to use an Unforgivable Curse.  He whirled and dodged the curse, but barely dodged another bludgeoning spell where he reappeared.  Voldemort smiled.  Some murders were mere necessities, but to kill a skilled duellist was very satisfying.  He knew he found a challenge worthy of his abilities.

The two men began casting a fusillade of spells at each other; James trying to buy Lily and Harry time to escape, and Voldemort to kill James.  Voldemort, among other curses and spells, cast another killing curse which James disrupted by summoning the sofa into its path.  He cast a stunner, then a bludgeoning curse.  James deflected these with a shield spell, grunting as he was shoved off balance by their power.  James then cast the strongest stunner he could create, followed by another killing curse, and moved to his right.

Voldemort took note of how James dodged, keeping the approach to the stairs protected.  He batted away the stunner, summoned the kitchen table into James’ killing curse, and answered with stunning and bludgeoning combination of his own.  James again whirled and appeared to his left.  The two Wizards stood still for a moment, wands at the ready, as they caught their breaths.  Suddenly Voldemort sent two bludgeoning spells and when James had whirled back to the right, he moved his wand to the left and cast another Avada Kedavra.  The bludgeoning spells smashed through the outer loo wall, shattered the toilet, and caused water to spray from a ruptured pipe.  James came out of his whirl and saw the killing curse upon him, with no time for another dodge.  The green streak slammed him against the wall and he collapsed, sitting on the floor, at the foot of the stairs.

Voldemort took a few moments, catching his breath and savouring his victory, before he started towards the stairs himself.  A small globe on a wall shelf behind the shattered front door changed colour from a cool blue to bright red as Voldemort stepped around James’ body and began to ascend the stairs.

Outside the cottage, Peter stood slack jawed watching the flashes of the ferocious duel light the cottage’s front windows.  James was actually duelling with the Dark Lord!  Whether it was bravery or stupidity, Peter wasn’t sure.  He did know that even the most powerful of Death Eaters never thought of duelling, let alone besting, their Master.  He was shocked as he realized James had cast Avada Kedavra.   The duel seemed to last an eternity to Peter but, in less than a minute, a final flash of green brought silence.  

Dashing into Harry’s nursery Lily saw her son sitting up in his crib, confused and upset by the loud noises of breaking furniture and shattering shelves and dishes.  She was horrified when she realized she couldn’t Apparate away.  The anti-Apparition wards James erected were still in place.  They were trapped inside the cottage.  Lily went into the hallway and peeked down the stairs.  James and Voldemort were locked in a bitter duel; she heard them both cast Avada Kedavra, and heard the furious movements and barrage of spells suddenly stop as something fell heavily at the bottom of the stairs.  She stepped back into the nursery fighting back a bitter sob.  If James had disabled or killed Voldemort, he would have called to her immediately.  The silence from below spoke volumes, her beautiful James was dead.  Then she heard footfalls moving towards the steps.  She glanced at Harry, who began to cry as he saw the terror on his mother’s face.  She moved quickly to kiss the top of his head and comfort him, and then she looked toward the nursery door.  Voldemort was coming up the stairs.  Another wave of terror swept through her, with James dead, the fates of both Harry and her unborn child were in her hands.  She nearly gave in to despair as she realized that she and the child she carried would not survive.  But Harry was a different matter altogether.

Thinking fast, she quietly sang, in Celtic, using the melody from the Fidelius Charm, “I beseech you to allow my request, Harry son of James shall not die tonight.  Even if my own life must be forfeit, the child shall survive.”  Lily whirled her wand in a circle around the nursery, and then she vowed, “By all that is holy and upon our magic, Harry shall not die!”

She kissed the end of her wand and gently tapped it against Harry’s forehead.  Certain she had done everything humanly possible to save Harry, she faced the doorway ready to defend her children.

Voldemort stood just outside the door of the nursery.  Seeing Lily turn to face him, he used his wand to motion her out of the way.

In an attempt to confuse Voldemort, Lily began to scream, “Not Harry!  Not Harry!  Please… I’ll do anything…”

Voldemort waved her away and drawled, "Stand aside…  Stand aside girl!”

Lily cried out in anguish, "Not Harry, not Harry, please not Harry!"

Voldemort’s voice snarled in return, “I said stand aside you silly girl … stand aside now."  

Outside, Peter heard the shouted exchange.  The Dark Lord was human after all, and even he could be influenced.  Peter smiled.  Tuning out the continued shouting, his thoughts turned to his next task.  In two bloody days he had to find the Longbottom’s Secret-Keeper and convince them to give him their location.  He had no intention of dying for the Longbottoms.  Peter began to ponder who, out of four possible Secret-Keepers he ought to focus on.  Moody was Frank Longbottom’s mentor as an Auror.  Moody!  That is who he would use if it were his decision.  He resolved to track down Moody as soon as he returned from Voldemort’s chamber.

In the nursery Lily pleaded for her son’s life.  “Not Harry, please no, take me, kill me instead…”  Lily deliberately stood between Voldemort and Harry crying out, “Not Harry!  Please…have mercy…have mercy…”  Harry’s frightened calls for his mummy added to the swirling cacophony of noise, emotion, and power in the room.

Voldemort’s resolve wavered for a moment in the confusion.  This was a new situation for him.  James’ physical defiance had taken more out of him than he would ever admit.  Now his mudblood wife was sending out a sickening mix of emotions; rage, defiance, and love of a depth that caused Voldemort’s stomach to churn.  His carefully planned murder was becoming a farce, and that had to end now.  With a flick of his wand Lily was shoved aside and Voldemort aimed at Harry, snarling, “Avada…”

Lily stumbled away from the crib, leaving Harry unprotected.  Panic flashed in her mind as she saw that monster point his wand at Harry.  Her green eyes shone as the magic of her vow in the nursery infused her with purpose.  Whatever else happened this night, she would not allow Harry to die.  As Lily stepped back in front of Harry she felt James’ presence.  She knew that James’ and her lives were forfeit, but Harry would live.  She faced Voldemort but her thoughts were on her son as she smiled and softly said “Harry, remember we love you!”  The jet of green smashed her backwards against the side of the crib and she limply fell forward into the middle of the room.

Voldemort sneered in disgust.  Dumbledore’s fools place such a high value on love, and where did it get them?  Ignoring the frenzied screams of the Potter child, Voldemort again said, “Avada Kedavra.”  The curse left his wand as a jet then quickly dispersed into a shimmering curtain across the room.  Voldemort had merely a fraction of a second to register astonishment before the green curtain collapsed and enveloped him.  His last coherent thought was indescribable agony as he felt his entire being ripped asunder.

As the curtain wrapped about Voldemort Harry was thrown backwards by a magical shock wave and knocked unconscious.  Where Lily’s wand had touched Harry’s forehead, a jagged cut erupted and his crib headboard and bed sheets were sprayed with blood.

Pondering how to approach the cautious and paranoid Moody, Peter barely noticed a flash of green, then a second, prolonged, green glow in the window of Harry’s nursery.  Glancing up for a moment, he returned to his Moody problem.  Several minutes passed before he realized Voldemort remained in the cottage.

Odd, what is keeping him? Peter thought.

He slowly walked toward the cottage and looked through the front doorway into the lounge.  Scars from spell damage marked the wall near the stairs, and the mantelpiece and the hearth itself.  The sofa and kitchen table were lying in pieces on the floor; shattered crockery littered the kitchen area.  Peter hesitated for a moment but curiosity got the better of him.  He walked through the room avoiding the debris and sprays of water from damaged pipes.  He saw James’ body against the wall near the stairs; eyes staring sightlessly, features still holding a look of grim determination.

“James, James.”  Peter shook his head and smirked.  “You are… were… such a fool.  But you did play the noble hero to the last.”

There was still no sign of Voldemort.  “Did he Apparate away? I am always overlooked, but my day is coming, and soon,” Peter huffed

He softly tiptoed up the steps and peeked down the hall.  All remained quiet.  He drew his wand; if Lily was recovering from being stunned he did not want to be on the receiving end of a powerful hex.

Looking into the nursery he saw Lily was lying face down in the middle of the room.  “Trust me Lily; you may thank me for this some day,” he said to no one.

Glancing around the corner of the door frame into the room he gasped and his legs collapsed beneath him.  Against the lower wall lay Lord Voldemort, the look of astonishment frozen on his face.

“Lily, you mudblood bitch, what the hell did you do?” he viciously hissed.

Months of careful plotting to gain the Dark Lord’s notice and frame Sirius for the Potter’s murder, was now in tatters.  Gaining the Dark Mark so soon was unexpected and had really moved his plan forward.  But the death of the Dark Lord was definitely not in his grand plan.  Gaining his feet, Peter began to cast the Cruciatus Curse on Lily, but stopped.  She should have begun to recover from a stunning spell by now.  He wanted to know what happened.  Lily, his friend Lily, had killed the Dark Lord?

Pointing his wand at her he said, “Reenervate.”

Kneeling next to her, he grabbed a fist full of hair and lifted her head.  From ten years of observation, Peter recognized the serene certainty on her face when she knew she was right.  She may have pleaded, but she stood her ground.  Peering into her lifeless eyes he shook his head.

“I’ll be damned,” he whispered.  “I guess I no longer need worry about living past Tuesday now.”  He let Lily’s head drop on the floor and got to his feet.

Glancing quickly into Harry’s crib he saw the child laying there.  A considerable amount of blood was splattered on the headboard of Harry’s crib, and the wall next to it.  Harry’s eyes were closed and blood covered his forehead, face, and the bed sheets around his head and shoulders.  Peter wondered for a moment why the Dark Lord used a cutting curse instead of Avada Kedavra to kill the child.  Shrugging his shoulders he turned toward the door, not noticing that Harry was still breathing.

Peter stepped into the little hall outside the nursery and leaned against the wall as the impact of what he had seen overcame him.  He had no idea what to do and nervously giggled.  He took a deep, calming, breath and pondered the options open to him.  After a moment’s reflection he realized that part of his plan was still on track.  Everyone assumed Sirius was the Potter’s Secret-Keeper; his meeting with Dumbledore earlier in the day did nothing but reinforce the assumption.  Their betrayal and murders would be blamed on him.  Sirius could protest his innocence, and point to Peter, but Peter’s own ‘disappearance’ would make his protests pointless.  Having no Dark Lord to influence cast a major pall over the fruit of his plan.  Fortunately there were those who would know it was his efforts that brought the Potter’s deaths and sent Sirius Black to a life in Azkaban.  The Order of the Phoenix had lost three powerful members in one nights work.  He would begin again, building his reputation with the remaining Death Eaters, waiting patiently to see who became their new leader.  He felt better now and smiled ruefully as he wondered what the Death Eaters, and especially Bellatrix, would do without their precious Dark Lord.  Lily Potter had killed him.

He suddenly felt as if doused in ice water, and bile rose in his throat.  Bellatrix LeStrange.  She and her husband knew he had come, alone, with the Dark Lord.

“They will think I killed the Dark Lord!  Oh bloody hell, bloody effing hell!” he squeaked, panic now filling him.  “They are going to kill me, they will kill me, but not before having their fun.”  He spat the last word with some of the bile in his throat.

He paced up and down the small hallway, thinking.  What could he do?  Bellatrix wouldn’t listen to him, she’s crazy.  Peter walked down the stairs and out of the cottage.  He needed to get away before anyone saw him here, but fear paralyzed his actions.  Hiding from a Ministry search was one thing, but the Death Eaters would never stop looking if they thought he was responsible for the Dark Lord’s demise.  They would never rest until certain he was dead.  He wondered if faking an attack at his flat, and blaming that on Sirius, too, would gain him enough sympathy to seek the protection of the Ministry.  Then he realized Death Eater infiltration of the Ministry was so pervasive he would not live long enough to have a second cup of tea.  He wondered how he could leave convincing evidence that he was dead.  He was meeting Sirius in the morning.  Sirius would already have a one way ticket to Azkaban for the Potter murders; why not blame his ‘death’ on Sirius too.  “What was one more murder amongst friends,” giggled Peter.

Peter knew the real problem lay in making his “murder” convincing to others.  Since he and Sirius were meeting at a Muggle pub for breakfast there would already be a crowd of Muggle witnesses.  If he were to stage the murder on the street it would be even better.  An explosion would work.  In the confusion of a blast no one would notice him, and he could transform and flee.  But what was necessary to convince people he was really dead, not merely in hiding.  Evidence, there had to be proof left behind that he was dead.  

Peter tried to steady himself against the side of the cottage as he vomited.  He had to leave a piece of himself behind.  What was his life worth?  Peter held his hands out before him.  Was his life worth an arm?  He vomited again on the ground.  He shuddered as he pondered leaving his left hand and fought back the bile rising at the back of his throat.  All the Magical Law Enforcement Office really needed to prove his death was the prints off a finger.  A single finger?  He could heal the wound from a severed finger and it would not maim him badly.

”My finger for my life?  I can do this,” he said, his voice unsteady.

Now all he had to do was muck things up at the cottage; make it hard for someone to discern what had really happened.  Peter realized that an explosion would serve that purpose here as well as in Ipswich.  That would also implicate Sirius even more; he killed the Potters and Pettigrew in explosions.  Crazy Sirius Black, the apple didn’t fall far from the tree after all!  Smiling now, Peter drew his wand and pointed it at the cottage.

Another thought stopped him short.  What if he was caught after all?  He doubted the Ministry would bother after identifying his finger.  But Death Eaters, like the LeStranges, would always wonder.  If they ever found him, he might be able to plead innocence, but only if he had no spells from this night on his wand.  In a flash of inspiration he went into the cottage and made his way back to the nursery.  He roughly searched the Dark Lord’s corpse, finding his wand on the floor under his leg.  Picking it up Peter hurried down the stairs, leapt over James’ body and ran out the front door.  He stopped when he reached the point where he originally stood waiting for Voldemort.

Grinning, he pointed Voldemort’s wand at the cottage and muttered, “Attero Dormus.”

The resulting blast blew out the side and rear walls.  The upper story and front wall collapsed inward.  Peter knew he had spent too much time at Godric’s Hollow already; he did not need to be there if the noise of the explosion alerted anyone.  Satisfied his planning was back on track he Apparated away.

31 October 1981, 11:30 PM

A moment after the crack that marked Peter’s departure, Harry began to cry out.  While the force of the reflected Killing Curse had knocked him unconscious, the movement of his crib towards the centre of the ruined cottage roused him.  In the dark, alone and frightened, Harry called out for his mother, then his father.  When neither answered his repeated calls, he started to shriek and cry in fright.  There was no one to comfort him; no one could even hear him.  After about 20 minutes, exhausted from the emotional effort of crying, and the loss of blood, Harry curled up in his bloody blanket, lay back down in his wrecked crib, and fell asleep.

An hour later a black winged horse, looking more reptilian than equine, dropped gracefully from the night sky and into the clearing of the demolished cottage.  An impossibly large man alit from its back, holding a glowing red ball, and hurried toward the wreckage.

Hagrid paused, his voice caught in his throat as he said, “Ah no, no!”

He turned to the winged horse and commanded, “Tenebrus stay here.  None ‘o yer wanderin' off now, not tonigh’!”

Standing on the edge of the wreckage he called out, “James!  Lily!  Can ya hear me?”  His booming voice woke a cold and frightened Harry who began to cry.

“Harry!  Yer alive!” he cried out in relief.  “I’m comin for ya, don’ panic now.”

Hagrid shoved the Concutio Orb into a pocket of his coat and began to step through the debris, moving beams and bits of ceiling and wall like they were bits of foam.  He was almost to Harry when his foot caught on something soft.  He froze and glanced down.  Part of a body was visible under the wreckage, dark red hair fanned out over it.

“Lily?  Lily!  Can ya hear me?  What happened ‘ere, where’s James?”  

He worked quickly to toss the rubble off her, and then gently turned her over.  He let a sob escape as he saw the dead eyes staring past him.  He carefully lifted her body out of the rubble and carried her out past the edge of the debris.

“Don’ worry Harry,” he called to the panicked child.  “I gotta… I gotta… Oh ruddy hell!  I’ll get you in a moment.”

Hagrid set Lily down next to a tree, and then retraced the trail he cleared towards the sound of the crying boy. He pulled away a bit of wall and gasped as he saw Harry.  The toddler was sitting up and shivering, surrounded by bloody bedclothes, his own face, forehead, and hair caked in drying blood.

“Oh Harry, come ‘ere.  Hagrid’s got ya, Hagrid’s got ya now.”

He removed the bloody blanket, lifted the boy and settled him into the crook of his left arm.  With his right hand he fumbled around in the pockets of his coat and pulled out a dry, and relatively clean, flannel rag that was easily large enough to wrap around Harry.  Carefully Hagrid moved away from the house, cooing to Harry to calm him as he did so.  He pulled a handkerchief out of another pocket and wet it in the spray from a broken water pipe.  Hagrid began to gently wipe the blood off the boy’s face.  After cleaning away Harry’s cheeks and eyes, Hagrid began to wipe his forehead.  As he touched the middle of Harry’s forehead the child flinched and began to fuss and cry anew.

“Summat house hit yer on the head?” Hagrid asked quietly.  “Nice and sof’ now.  Lemme clean ya up.”

He wetted the handkerchief again and softly caressed Harry’s forehead from the temples toward the centre.  Finally there were only the areas around the wound itself that needed cleaning.

“Alrigh' now Harry.  I’ll jus’ sorta blot this last bid up.  We’ll see how hurt ya are.”

With great patience Hagrid blotted away at the scab area.  He looked at Harry’s forehead and nearly fell to his knees.  A jagged lightening bolt scar marred his head.  He glanced over at the blasted house then back at Harry.

“Wha’ the heavens?”

He pulled back his coat and reached into an inside pocket and pulled out a pink umbrella.  Pointing the umbrella toward the northern sky he muttered something.  Immediately the silvery image of a small man wearing a hat flashed away and disappeared into the darkness.

“There’s nuthin’ to do but wait fer a bit.  Lemme get ya comfortable.”

He sat against a tree, facing the direction his patronus message went.  Cooing and rocking Harry he almost got him to sleep when a throbbing sound began in the distant sky.  As it grew louder a slivery phoenix flashed toward Hagrid.  It paused a moment and Albus Dumbledore’s voice told Hagrid to return to Hogwarts with Harry immediately.  He warned not to let Harry out of his sight and not to give him to anyone for any reason.

“Tenebrus, let’s go!” he called out to the woods.  “Tenebrus!”

The throbbing sound in the sky was growing louder and Hagrid had to shout out over the noise.  “Tenebrus you ruddy nag, where are you?”

Glancing up at the noise, Hagrid saw a light descending toward the cottage clearing.  He moved into the surrounding tree line for cover and watched the light approach the ground.  Hagrid realized it was Sirius’ motorbike.  The huge bike landed and was immediately switched off.  Holding a glowing red ball in one hand and his wand in the other, Sirius ran to the blasted cottage.

“James!  Lily!” he shouted in anguish.  Hagrid stepped into the clearing just as Sirius saw Lily’s body.  “Lily, thank God!  Where is James?”  Kneeling next to her he realized she was dead.  “No!” he cried.

“Sirius,” Hagrid said, approaching him.  Sirius spun around immediately, a stunning spell bouncing off Hagrid.  “Ruddy hell Sirius!  Wha’cha think yer doin’?”

“Hagrid?  Hagrid!  What are you doing here?  What happened, where are James and Harry?”  

“I got Harry here, an’ I put poor Lily by tha’ tree, but I haven’ found James yet.  He… he’s still in there” Hagrid motioned toward the ruins.  Harry woke at the commotion and reached for Sirius.

“I’ve got to get Harry out of here!” Sirius exclaimed.  “Death Eaters might come back at any moment.  How did they break the Charm?  Peter!  Oh God no!  Give me Harry; I will take him somewhere safe…”

“I’ll be takin’ him ta Dumbledore,” Hagrid interrupted bluntly.

“The hell you will!  He’s my Godson!  My responsibility!” Sirius shouted hotly.

“An wha are ye plannin’ ta do?” Hagrid shouted back, Harry beginning to fuss at the angry voices.

Sirius let out a sharp breath and continued with a calmer voice, “James and Lily wanted him in my care, if anything… if anything… oh hell!  If this,” and he swept a visibly shaking arm towards the ruined cottage, “were to happen.  I must take him, he is my Godson, my charge from here on out,” he finished forcefully.

“Are ya sure thas’ a smart thing ta do?” Hagrid replied quietly.  “They kilt Lily and James.  You, Peter an’ Remus ‘ave gotta be next on their list.  Think abou’ Harry.  Right now bein’ wi’ Dumbledore is the safest place ta be.”

Sirius reached out and held Harry’s hand.  “’Unc Pawfud?” Harry whined, looking scared.

“Harry, Uncle Padfoot’s got to try and find your Mum and Dad, alright?”  Harry’s face screwed up and he began to cry.  “Shush, shush.  It’s alright Harry.  Uncle Hagrid will keep you safe.  Uncle Padfoot has some things to do before I catch up with you.”

Sirius’ voice caught as he glanced at Lily’s body lying against the tree.  “You go with Uncle Hagrid.  I have to leave you for a bit, but I will see you soon, okay?”

Sirius went to kiss Harry’s forehead and noticed the scar.  “Hagrid,” he asked warily, “what the hell is that on his head?”

Hagrid shrugged and shook his head.  “I senta message ta Dumbledor’ abou’ tha.  Tha’s why I’m takin’ Harry to him.  Tha’ and fer his own safety.”

Sirius thought about that for a moment.  Coming to an apparent conclusion he nodded his head and turned to Hagrid; “With all the commotion here, this place may be crawling with Muggles from the village soon.  I don’t want you or Harry here if they do come.  Go now.  Get him out of here.  I have wasted enough of our time as it is.”

“I don’ know where Tenebrus is.  He wandered off, I can’ get back to Hogwarts,” Hagrid said with a very worried voice.

“Take my bike.”

“Yer bike?”

“Hagrid, get Harry out of here!” Sirius said frantically.  “Get him to Dumbledore, get him safe.  Take my bike; it’s nearly as fast as one of your Thestrals and I don’t need it anymore.”

Sirius stood back, wand drawn and watched Hagrid straddle the bike and start it.

He ran over to Hagrid and handed him his own Concutio Orb.  “Take this to Dumbledore too; this is something else I don’t need anymore.”

Hagrid pulled his out, showed it to Sirius, then put them both back.  “I din’it see the one in the house.  It’s still there I think.”

Sirius nodded as Hagrid cradled Harry in one arm and twisted the bike’s throttle with the other hand.  The bike and its passengers rose into the night and disappeared with a fading throb.

After a quick look around him, Sirius transformed into Padfoot and began to sniff the ruins of the cottage.  He could smell James’ scent.  Someone had been sick, the vomit odor was strong and disturbing.  There was also a scent he didn’t recognize.  But James came first.  Finding James in the rubble he transformed back to human form.  Carefully he began to levitate debris away from the area where he had smelled James.  It took five minutes before he could see the back of James’ head and call to him.  Sirius pleaded with him not to be dead too.  A few more minutes passed before he could levitate James out of the rubble.  Staring at James he saw the blank eyes and frozen expression of defiance.  James had other injuries from the blast but they were not bleeding or bruising.  James had already died before the cottage exploded.  There was a large lump in Sirius’ throat, making it hard to swallow.  Wiping the tears that blurred his vision he stared up into the night sky and asked the powers that be why Lily and James?

Sirius paused and peered closely at the sky right above him.  There was no Dark Mark.  He realized he had not seen one when he arrived and hoped that meant good news, not bad.  Shaking off those thoughts for later, he transfigured a piece of debris into a padded white blanket.  Gently he moved James and Lily next to each other and closed their eyes.  The lump in his throat only grew larger as he transfigured another piece of debris into a sheet and carefully covered his two closest friends.  He sat at the foot of the sheet and let his emotions swell and consume him.  He had not cried since he was a small child, and he couldn’t remember ever having cried that hard.

The wave of grief passed after a bit and Sirius wiped his eyes with his sleeve.  He stood and started to look through the debris, where he had noticed the other scent, when he saw the sweep of torches flicker through the trees.  Muggles were coming up the lane; he did not want answer questions about who he was and why there were dead people under a tree, next to a demolished cottage.  He transformed and slipped away through the trees into the darkness.

On the opposite side of Ganllwyd from Godric’s Hollow Sirius stopped to settle himself.  He knew he needed to get to Peter; their meeting in Ipswich would be in a few hours, just after dawn.  He fervently hoped he would not have to repeat the actions at Godric’s Hollow when he got to Ipswich.  How was he going to break this news to the other Marauders?  Remus!  Remus was not part of the Fidelius Charm, but he is a Marauder and that made him a target too.  After ensuring the safety of his mates he had to see Dumbledore.  Sirius was beginning to realize there were too many things here that made no sense; too many questions without answers.  James and Lily clearly had been hit with Avada Kedavra.  But Harry suffered some sort of curse that left a jagged scar on his forehead.  What was that curse, why was Harry still alive?  It was not an effect Sirius was familiar with, and as a Black he knew the effects of many Dark curses.  There was no Dark Mark, if Voldemort and his Death Eaters were not responsible, who was?  Despite evidence of a duel, it appeared that none of the spells were destructive enough to destroy a house.  And there was still the possibility of an unknown body, the one he smelled while searching the ruins.  Who was still here?  The murderer?  He needed to get back to Harry.  How would he tell him his parents were dead?

First things first Sirius thought.  Harry is safe for now and I have my friends to check on.

There was nothing more to be done here this night.  He looked about from his spot in the shadows and saw no one was watching.  After a deep calming breath he Apparated away.

*******

A soft pop died away quickly in the squalor of an Ipswich alleyway several blocks from the Cock and Bull.  Standing in the early morning gloom foretelling a cloudy, rainy day, Sirius transfigured his cloak into a Muggle style leather coat.  He slipped inconspicuously out of the alley and joined the Muggles who were heading to bus stops and shops for work.  He sighed with relief as he saw Peter next to a group of Muggle commuters at one of the stops, then snorted softly and shook his head.  For someone knowing Lily over ten years Peter should know how to dress more like a Muggle.  A Death Eater might not have noticed Peter, but the other people on the street were keeping their distance and giving him odd looks.

Sirius started to call out, but something about Peter’s body language warned him not to.  Peter looked pale and seemed very tense; his wand arm was tight behind his back while his left hand was clenched in a fist against his stomach.  Sirius scrutinized the people around the area but nothing seemed amiss.

About 30 yards away, Sirius called out, “Peter!  All right there mate?”

Peter had been waiting at a Muggle bus stop just up the street from the Cock and Bull.  He wanted his confrontation with Sirius to be very public.  Hearing Sirius shout his name he turned to face him.

His face ashen, Peter shouted back at the top of his lungs; “Sirius!  James and Lily; how could you?”

On top of his eccentric dress, this outburst drew the attention of even more people on the busy street.

Sirius stopped dead, shocked by Peter’s reply.  How did he know?  “What do you mean how could I?” he said.

As he started to jog towards Peter, Sirius saw him do four things in very rapid succession.  He smiled at Sirius, opened his left fist and dropped something, shouted, “Attero Via,” and then transformed into a rat as the street exploded in a fireball.

Auror trained reflexes allowed Sirius to drop to the pavement and avoid most of the blast.  He got up, ran to the edge of a large crater where the bloody remains of Peter’s robes and a finger lay on the ground.  Sensing movement on the crater, he saw the tail of a rat disappearing through a hole in a shattered sewer pipe.  He stood there like a statue, oblivious to the moans and cries of the injured as they began to fill the silence after the blast.  Sirius just stood there, his mind slowly coming to grips with what seemed impossible but a few hours ago.  Peter was the one who betrayed James, Lily, and Harry.  Betrayed them to Voldemort and his Death Eaters!  And now Peter had just implicated him, in public, as their murderer and killed who knows how many people in an explosion.  Unable to shake his stupor, Sirius just stood at the edge of the crater in the street.  In one night his whole world was turned insides out and upsides down.

A single thought echoed in his mind; Peter betrayed us.  

That one thought was so absurd, so ridiculous, that Sirius did the only thing that made sense at the moment.  Pointing into the crater, at the breached sewer pipe, he began to laugh; a wild, maniacal, shrieking laugh.  In this state Sirius did not notice the cracks of Apparition in the street around him.

The work day had barely begun before it shattered for the Junior Minister-On-Duty at the Department of Magical Catastrophes.  A massive spell in a purely Muggle part of England required a full team from the Department, as well as Wizards from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and given the times as they were, several Aurors.

Cornelius Fudge appeared on a street in the business district of Ipswich.  He was horrified by the immediate carnage that faced him.  He turned to a young Wizard who just Apparated nearby and ordered him to return to the Ministry and get everyone in the Department at once.  This was a true disaster.  Fudge shuddered as he thought about the mountains of paperwork he needed to complete to clear this case off his desk.  A pox upon You-Know-Who for making so much trouble!  The effort to Obliviate this many Muggles’ memories and replace them with an adequate excuse would be daunting in its own right.  He ordered another Wizard to return and bring as many Obliviators as he could find.  

Looking at the amount of dead and injured, and the gaping smoking hole in the street he began to feel nauseous.  A considerable amount of overtime would be necessary.  Merlin, the budget was tight already.  This was going to tear that all to Hades and the Senior Minister-On-Duty was not going to be pleased.  Fudge knew he would have to justify the expenditures, maintaining the Security Act overrode any money concerns.  But the Exchequer, a nasty man on a good day, was going to demand his pound of flesh.  Fudge sighed, this was definitely a disaster.

In a fit of nervousness he began to twist the brim of his new lime green bowler; it was a gift from his wife for being promoted to Junior Minister.  That act and thoughts of his wife’s’ support calmed him enough that he realized someone was laughing.  Fudge turned toward the sound of insane laughter and saw a man standing next to the still smoking crater.

“Black?  Sirius Black?  Did you see what happened?” he called.

The man’s continued pointing and laughter were very disturbing.  Suddenly it occurred to Fudge that Black might be responsible for the explosion.  Sirius Black was the reason for this catastrophe and he was laughing!  The audacity was downright criminal.  Here he, Cornelius Fudge, was facing a crushing administrative burden from this mess and this man thought it a lark!.

He motioned to one of the Magical Law Enforcement Officers, “Bind that man and let an Auror take him back to their headquarters!  This is no longer a just catastrophe site, but a murder site as well.”

Fudge heard the Officer call, “Incarcerous” and watched the ropes bind Black chest to ankle.  The madman was still laughing as a pair of Aurors portkeyed him back to the Ministry.  He shook his head as the echo of wild laughter faded.

“What a mess!” Fudge muttered to himself.

But then, he had handled it well so far.  Reinforcements from the Department were now arriving and coming got him for orders, and he had directed the apprehension of a clearly dangerous criminal.  This incident was sure to get the notice of many Department Heads, at least several Under Secretaries, and possibly the Minister herself.  He might have some long hours at his desk for a while but if he continued to manage this mess successfully, it could be the break he needed to move up into the higher levels of the Ministry.  Fudge allowed himself a slight smile and with a spring in his step he set to work.