November 11, 1990, 3:27 AM, Abandoned Classroom
Peter Pettigrew
Time had not been very kind to Peter Pettigrew.
For years he had toiled. Forced to become a pet to the commonest of families and their spawn. Passed around from child to child as if he were no more than one of their many hand-me-downs.
And worst of all, he was beginning to like his role.
He supposed spending too much time as a rat had resulted in some bleed between his mental states, but by his magic did it feel sickening to acknowledge the feelings as his own.
Peter cursed the Dark Lord for what most certainly was not the first time and twitched his whiskers at the soft currents of air tickling his fur.
‘At least some of my time has been well spent.’
It was with that last thought that Pettigrew turned the corner of the vast hallway and scurried through the miniscule hole in the wall, breaching the classroom.
Though time had him suffer, it had also provided him with opportunity. The chance to start over once more.
He had lost weight. Absurd amounts, in fact, and his once shaggy hair had been cut short. It would not stop people from finding out who he was, though it would slow down their discoveries by a little.
He knew that it was not a matter of if, only when.
Peter had been brought to rock bottom before being offered a series of lifelines masked as tragedies. Ones that would see him rise to heights untold— or so he thought, anyway.
The first of which being the Dark Lord’s fall. The day that he found his empty robes was the happiest day of his life, and he could not contain his elation when the blasted mark began to fade. Nowadays, it was akin to a light red tattoo, only discernible if one looked at it carefully.
He suppressed a shudder at the thought of the Dark Lord. He still held that accursed yew wand to this day— it was protected safely in a box, hidden away from prying eyes and eager hands.
His subsequent fight with Sirius—if it could even be called one—had given him a very painful incentive to grow.
For all his prowess in subterfuge and infiltration meant jack shit if he couldn’t get out of a hostile situation and return to safety.
Unfortunately, that was a lesson that had taken a piece of him in recompense… literally.
Sometimes, he thought it to be a good thing. A visual reminder of who, or rather, what he used to be, and a milestone that he would remember for all eternity.
If he were to be completely honest, it all took off after coming to Hogwarts for the second time in his life.
At first, he couldn’t believe it. To be brought back after wasting his school years chasing the coattails of James and Sirius was a blessing, to say the least. He’d half expected to live out his days as little more than a pet rat, but it seemed fate had other plans.
Grunting, he stood up on his feet and patted down his ratty brown overcoat and tattered trousers. It was a force of habit more than anything else— Merlin knew that it was futile. The coat didn’t even resemble one anymore.
‘It doesn’t smell like one either…’ he wrinkled his nose at the absolutely repugnant odour wafting off of his attire.
He slapped the sides of his face and squeezed his eyes shut. The shift was always disconcerting no matter how many times he did it. Taking a moment to collect himself, Peter absorbed the gentle night winds that tickled his face and parted thinning tufts of hair.
Slowly opening his eyes, he threw his gaze over his shoulder and closed the door with a hasty wave of his wand— only relaxing once he heard the click of the lock behind him.
With great care, Peter unfurled a nondescript, and dare he say it ancient, scroll of parchment. Taking great care not to destroy it, he brought the tip of his wand against its surface and tapped it thrice.
‘Messrs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs. Purveyors of Aids to Magical Mischief-Makers are proud to present: ‘THE MARAUDER’S MAP!’
Peter smiled softly at the jibes and fantastical verbal exchanges that streaked across the parchment one after the other. It felt like just yesterday when James, Remus, Sirius, and himself sat in their dorm coming up with that little song and dance.
Though his sudden bout of nostalgia was quickly replaced with an almost apathetic pragmatism. ‘Those times won’t ever come back, so I should stop thinking about them…’
“I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.” he whispered, a wintry glint entering his eyes.
After years of biding his time, hiding away, and gaining power, he was ready to break free from the shackles of the Dark Lord.
‘But there’s still this…’ he looked down at the faded skull plastered across his forearm with a frown. The once mighty snake hanging from the skull looked more like a flaccid cock than anything else.
He chuckled at the thought and shook off his amusement.
All those books in both the regular and restricted sections of the library, and he was still unable to find a way to remove the mark.
‘Dumbledore,’’ he repressed a shudder at his name. Years of avoiding the man had only served to strengthen his already strong fear to complete terror.
He could feel it all as a rat.
The lofty waves of magic that seemed to emanate from him at all times of the day— it was completely absurd. He had no idea how one man could possess that much power.
‘Three men.’ his mind supplied. He shuddered in remembrance of his former, and now dead, master. The other was a man who had been locked in a prison of his own making— yet was strong enough to take on the very world.
He cleared his throat and dragged his attention back to the map. ‘Seems to be in the teacher’s wing; hopefully fast asleep.’
His tensed shoulders relaxed slightly, but his posture remained shifty.
‘That’s good,’ he thought. ‘One less danger to worry about.’
He exhaled softly and quirked an eyebrow at a pair of names prowling the corridors closest to him.
‘The Squib and his blasted cat?’ he thought disdainfully.
No two presences had ever been such a source of headache for him. Not even Crabbe and Goyle Sr. had made themselves so insufferable— and that was an achievement in its own right.
It was almost as if Filch took a perverse joy in catching students engaging in illicit activities and watching the shame and embarrassment show on their faces when he dragged them off to their House Heads.
This, of course, made it harder for him to explore the castle in search of more esoteric subjects. He’d covered most of the things he wanted years ago—not to the degree of skill he would have liked, but for someone of his level of talent, it was enough to keep him alive at the very minimum.
‘It seems my time here is coming to an end, eh?’ he scoffed, stuffing the parchment inside the safety of his tattered coat.
He spun on his heels, the room around him turning into a kaleidoscope of colour. His clothes seemed to fold in on themselves before disappearing— leaving on the stone floor, a slightly dishevelled but otherwise seemingly ordinary rat.
Or as ordinary as a toeless rat could be.
With a final twitch of his whiskers, Pettigrew leapt through the hole in the wall, spotting the dust-coloured cat and her decrepit master.
She hissed, alerting the hobbling old man.
“What is it, my sweet?!” Filch crooned, his bobbing lantern casting several looming shadows on the inky walls. “A student? Out of bounds?!” his voice cracked under his very apparent excitement. “Lead on!”
Peter took that as his signal to leave, scuttling down the corridor with the pair in hot pursuit. ‘I can’t wait for the day this old shit keels over and dies!’
oOOOo
November 11, 1990, 6:15 AM, Room of Requirement
Asim Dovahkiin
“Once more,” I muttered, a series of deep breaths providing me with a much-needed calm.
Relaxing my tensed shoulders, I rolled out the cricks in my neck and brought my focus to a single point: my breathing.
The bone chilling morning air filtered down my throat and burrowed deep into my chest. Still, with the cold came clarity; something that would be paramount if I wanted to make any sort of progress.
I could still perceive everything around myself. Like the plump couch behind me, and the flickering flames of the fireplace reflected on the window to my right.
But they felt muted. Unimportant. Slowly fading to the back of my mind, no more than white noise.
Then came the hard part. Channelling my happiness— or rather, my happy memories.
I had tried to use a myriad of memories from my past life. The problem was that every time I tried to use said memories, they’d be accompanied by a lingering sense of sadness. Not the soul crushing kind, but the slow, gnawing kind. The type that ate away at you slowly, turning you into a husk of what you once were.
There wasn’t much I could do on that front, though. And it unfortunately wasn’t a problem that could be solved overnight.
In retrospect, it might have been a bad idea to use memories that would do nothing but remind me of my loss, but you live and learn— or at least live.
Doing my best to stand comfortably, I tried to experience it all over again— be there again.
From the coarseness of its etching to the pure joy I felt when I first connected to it.
My trusty companion throughout my journey thus far. Something that brought me comfort whenever I held it in my hand.
I closed my eyes, sinking deeper into my reverie.
And finally, to experience the sense of wholeness pervading through my very being. The momentary feeling of acceptance, and in that moment, it was as if I was back at Ollivander’s Wand Shop once more.
Raising my wand, I flicked it forwards absentmindedly and almost lazily. “Expecto Patronum.”
Everything stilled and the room was as quiet as a graveyard. There was no tweeting of birds to hail the rise of the sun, nor creak of wood or crackling of fire.
All was completely and utterly silent.
The candles mounted along the side of the walls dimmed, and the morning fog crawled through the open window, coiling towards me.
A lustrous mist coalesced at the tip of my wand, slowly growing in both its density and strength of colour.
Immersing myself into the emotions, my cheeks began to prickle—a tell-tale sign that they were flushing—and a wide smile stretched itself across my face. In fact, it took almost all I had to stop myself from laughing out loud as I opened my eyes.
The mist, now a vapourish thing, had completely detached itself from my wand. My first thought was that it was far bigger than I thought it would be.
Large enough to completely cover me, that was for sure. It swayed about my shoulders, draping itself over me like some kind of protective cloak.
As the last vestiges of my merriment ebbed away, I watched the cloak flutter around my feet for a few moments more before it disappeared just as easily as my ardour had.
“Well,” I sighed, warming myself with a wave of my wand. I returned my wand to its holster and stifled a mighty yawn, bringing with it a few stray tears to the corners of my eyes. “I’d call that progress indeed! Wouldn’t you?”
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Glowing a positively pleasant yellow, the walls around the room seemed to reflect my current mood and then some.
‘It seems that the Patronus Charm has the added effect of cheering its caster up.’ I thought, noting it down. ‘Once I’ve mastered it, it would be beneficial to test all of its applications.’
Suddenly stopping, my eyes widened. “Wait a minute, I wonder if casting a Cheering Charm on myself beforehand would work?”
The longer I dwelled on it, the more realistic the option became. ‘Well, I guess that’s just pushed its way up my to-do list for the day.’
“Honestly,” I pocketed my notebook and shook my head with a wry smile. “One of these days, we have to come up with a way for you to communicate more efficiently, Lyst.”
The previously vibrant walls turned an indignant green.
“Oh don’t give me that!” I said. “Such prodigious ability from Rowena Ravenclaw and she didn’t think to let you communicate with your residents?”
Though to be completely fair, I don’t think she created Lyst with the intention to form sentience. That was probably something that happened over hundreds of years of absorbing ambient magic.
Thanks to my newfound sixth sense, I think I’d finally begun to grasp how much magic actually surrounded the castle and its grounds.
‘I wonder if it’s because of all the wards.’ I stroked my chin, eyebrows narrowing in thought. ‘Or maybe it’s all the magic that’s been used here. After all, it’s been almost a thousand years since Hogwarts’ founding.’
It was completely mind boggling. No matter where I went, it was all the same. The place reeked of it.
Now that I stopped to think about it, I supposed it was only an advantage to me now.
I swung my bag over my shoulders, the weight of several textbooks dragging it down my spine until it settled at the small of my back.
I took a moment to adjust the height of the bag, nodded in acceptance, and summoned my wand to my hand. “Tempus.”
November 11, 1990, 7:03 AM
“Alright then,” I said, casting the usual stealth spells. “I’ll see you later, Lyst!”
I watched the walls glow in farewell and opened the door, greeted by the sight of the morning sun beginning its ascent towards the summit of the sky. I took a deep breath and began a deliberately slow walk down the relatively empty corridor.
And who could fault me? There was plenty of time before breakfast, and I wanted to enjoy the perfectly pleasant weather.
‘Though I know I’d be singing a completely different tune if I didn’t have a Warming Charm on hand…’
Despite it being long overdue, I’d finally acquired a Warming Charm from one of the many tomes in the school library— and just in time too.
Any longer and I’d have been shivering in the cold weather. I threw a cautionary glance at the glassless window to my right. The sun twinkled deceptively, as if it were taunting me to step outside.
I chuckled and moved past the window, gliding down the winding stairs, in search of food and other things to capture my interest.
oOOOo
Hogwarts Library, 3:17 PM
The library, as always, was a safe haven from the usual bedlam of the castle’s hallways— courtesy of Madam Pince’s intimidating presence, of course.
Personally, I thought the woman got a bad rep. My first few months here was enough to show me that despite her frosty demeanour, she only wanted to provide students with a quiet place to study.
Well, that, and ensuring her books were kept in top condition.
And honestly, I appreciated it. Though I hadn’t actually interacted with her myself past loaning out some books.
The first time I’d loaned one out, she had, in no veiled terms, warned me that were I not to keep the book in the exact condition it had left the library, she would deliver upon me the harshest punishment her position allowed.
‘She definitely radiates positivity, doesn’t she?’ I snarked, my gaze flickering towards the black clad witch.
With that said, I dragged my bag over to a lone, raven-haired figure sitting at the table closest to the window.
The falling sun let loose a few rays of sunshine, a few of which pierced past the fluffy clouds and filtered through the windows.
They illuminated the numerous dust particulates in the air— but still, I thought it added to the library's charm.
I set my hefty bag onto the table. The subsequent thump jarred its inhabitant from his focus. Wincing, I pulled back the chair beside him and allowed my feet a well-deserved rest.
“Asim?” Eddie’s eyes widened and he dropped his quill to the floor in surprise. “What are you doing here?”
I snorted in amusement and fixed him with a mock glare. “I did tell you I was going to start hanging out with you, right?”
His mouth opened silently and remained so for a few moments before he closed it and returned to work.
Despite his best efforts, he couldn’t help but grin from ear to ear.
‘What a cute kid.’
“So,” I drew a relatively thick textbook from my bag and placed it in front of me. “What are you up to?”
“Studying ahead.” he replied, eyes not leaving his parchment. He took a few moments to finish off his sentence before continuing. “I’m currently covering Vampires for DADA.”
“Is that so?” I replied. ‘I guess the little snippet Ancile provided us wasn’t all there is to Vampires.’
Peering over his shoulder, I noted a few key details that our professor hadn’t mentioned to my class, and filed them away for future research.
“Yup.” he turned to face me. “Did you know that there’s a wizard who wrote a book about his time amongst them? Absolute bonkers if you ask me.”
“Why’d you say that?”
“What if they decide to kill him in his sleep, or spit roast him or something?”
I couldn’t help but smile.
“Eddie, who’s to say that Vampires are bloodthirsty monsters?” I chided gently. “But to answer your question, I don’t know if they eat people. To my knowledge, they mainly sustain themselves by drinking blood."
‘Though if we’re talking about Skyrim Vampires here then I’m pretty sure they eat people— raw in fact.’
“And surely there are more efficient ways to cook something than roasting it over a spit. A sufficiently powerful wizard could break free from one pretty easily.”
“Oh yeah…” he trailed off, his mind obviously wandering elsewhere before he shook his head and glared at me. “Wait, that’s not the point!”
I merely cocked an eyebrow. ‘Strange kid indeed.’
“My point is, what if they drank his blood while he slept without him even knowing?”
“I’m pretty sure someone biting down on your very skin would be enough to wake even the heaviest of sleepers.” I snorted.
“Whatever!” he huffed, picking his quill off the carpeted floor.
It was then that our table descended into silence— or as silent as it could be with Eddie scribbling away from beside me.
I blinked owlishly and set down my book, only just remembering that I was supposed to return my copy of ‘Transfiguration Theory for the Magically Simple’ yesterday morning.
Slipping it out of my bag, I trudged over to Madam Pince’s desk, gears whirring to come up with some kind of excuse.
Eventually, though, I settled on telling her the truth. ‘Honesty’s the best policy and all that.’
Reaching her desk without much trouble, I refrained from rapping my knuckles on the oaken table, choosing to clear my throat instead.
“What is it?” she snapped, her displeasure at being disturbed conveyed perfectly by how acidic her tone of voice was.
‘I take back every nice thing I’ve ever said about her.’ I grumbled mentally. ‘This woman’s a bitch!’
“Err, I was just going to return this. Sorry I’m la—!” I held up the tome, only for it to be snatched out of my hands almost immediately.
“You’re late.” was her reply.
“I know.” I remarked drily. “I was going to tell you why, but you snatched the book out of my hands.”
Then there was a tense silence. Neither of us said a thing, though her coal eyes narrowed slightly. Moments later, she let out a defeated sigh.
“I apologise.” she said, setting the book aside. “I’ve just had to give a pair of Seventh Years a detention for trying to practise Wandless Magic in here after I explicitly told them not to so I’m not in the best of moods.”
I tilted my head, confused. I’d no idea why she was telling me this.
“At any rate, my conduct was not fair, and I apologise.”
I found myself smiling at her. “No worries. Tough day am I right?”
She nodded weakly, massaging her temples.
‘Well, I take back everything that I just said about her. She looks like she could use a nap.’
Nodding at her one final time, I returned to Eddie’s table and reclaimed my seat.
“Where’d you go?” he asked, eyes not leaving his work.
“I had to return an overdue book.”
I could hear the sharp intake of breath and stifled my laughter. ‘Kids man… they’re afraid of the most peculiar things.’
I myself wasn’t afraid of Madam Pince, I just held a particular amount of respect for her. Fearing another person without an actual basis, to me, was honestly the most stupid thing one could do.
Fear was the killer of the mind, thief of one’s peace of mind, and the bandit of hope. ‘Three things that significantly bolster one’s chances of amounting to anything in the world.’
Though at the same time, I acknowledged that emotion wasn’t rational in the first place.
Turning to my bookmarked page, I slowly immersed myself into the words, drinking in every word and chewing on them as if they were morsels of the world’s most delicious meal.
Before I knew it, hours had passed, and the sun was struggling to remain above the horizon. I flicked my wrist, my wand sliding into my hand. “Tempus.”
November 11, 1990, 7:45 PM
I heard Eddie gasp audibly from behind me. “What’s the matter?”
“You!” he whispered furiously and gestured towards the silver text in the air. “What’s that spell?”
He assaulted me with a barrage of questions that took me off guard.
“How does it accurately measure the date? Do you think it’s hooked up to Muggle satellites or something? Or does it use the position of the sun?” he continued. “Hold on, maybe wizards have their own way of measuring time, or do they use Muggle clocks too?”
‘Did he say that all in one breath…?’
I didn’t utter a word, merely leading him towards a certain shelf and slipping a thin, paperback book in his hands.
“That’s what you’re looking for mate.” I said, nodding my head as he thanked me. “But you might be better off borrowing it from Madam Pince since it’s time for dinner now.”
He followed the trail of my finger and stared at the witch packing up her belongings.
“Well?” I asked the stationary boy. “Go on then! She’s leaving!”
He flinched and walked briskly towards her desk.
I returned my own equipment to my bag and stared down at the grounds through the library window.
‘I wonder if the Elves ended up taking my suggestions for food…’
“Well,” I muttered, my bag’s shoulder straps comfortably slipping over my robes. “Only one way to find out.”
.