WHO: Peter Pettigrew, Lily Potter & baby! Harry Potter. WHAT: Peter sees a ghost and its baby! :O Heavy conversation ensues. WHERE: Starting in #27101 (Peter's room) then migrating to #27102 (Lily & Harry's room) WHEN: Backdated to Monday, August 7th. RATING | STATUS: Depiction of anxiety, and some grief. References to murder & kidnapping. | Doneeee.
Of the Patroni summoned, only one of them didnât fade from view, utterly at a loss for how to take a message to the people its caster had intended them for. The lone doe that remained cantered through the halls of Mandalay Bay, content in the knowledge its recipient was just through this last wall. The silver doe settled in in front of Peter Pettigrew, opened its mouth and spoke in what was unmistakably the clear, quick voice of Lily Potter, warmed through with the innate trust of speaking to someone you care for deeply and threaded with a hint of uncertainty.
âHarryâs with me, but I donât know where here is. We woke up in a hotel room — muggle, as there was electricity. The Mandalay says the stationary. Weâre as safe as we can be, given the circumstances. No Death Eaters that I can tell. Donât keep me waiting, boys, Iâd like the company.â
Peter was lying low, unable to wrap his head around what kind of magic it might have been that sent him here, and had just about fully accepted that the people living in the hotel and ranting on the various screens he'd been given were absolutely mad and he'd be better off if he never left the room at all. That's why he had yet to venture from his room unless he was in the form of a rat after two full days of being here.
He was sitting on the edge of the bed staring straight through the biggest screen in front of him with his mind very much elsewhere when a silvery doe startled him back to reality. Merlin, he damn near lost the contents of his stomach right then because he'd know that Patronus anywhere, even somewhere as alien and wrong as this place. It just wasn't possible. Lily was dead. He knew she was dead because it was his fault. When the doe spoke with her voice he could hardly bring himself to comprehend her words, so shocking was it for him to be hearing her voice at all. Was it a trick to draw him from his room? He eyed the doe with a suspicious glint in his narrowed eyes but she made her way to the closed door and gave him just one last look before stepping through it.
His suspicion gave way to panic. What was it she said? She was here, with Harry, safe? He stood and ran to the door, hurriedly pulling it open before he could think better of it. Holding his breath, he leaned a little ways into the hallway and peered both ways for a sign of the deer. If he was going to find Lily (which he still hadn't decided was the best idea) he would need some guidance but it seemed he'd been left to find her on his own. He himself had never been capable of casting a real Patronus, he just never had the confidence to draw upon or even thoughts that were particularly pleasant enough. After another moment of hesitation he stepped beyond his doorway and paced the hallway, hoping for some sign of the doe again when he noticed the names affixed to every door for the first time. That sparked some hope but none of these names were hers - he was losing hope and growing frustrated, about to give up when he neared his own room once again but then there it was - Lily's name on the door right across from his own.
Timidly, he approached the door and stood outside of it long enough to allow for a good five minutes of internal debate before he knocked upon it tentatively, very lightly because he half hoped it would go unheard and he could return to his room and at least say he tried.
In the far corner of the room, in the process of putting Harry down for a nap, Lily went still, cocking her head to the side. Itâd been faint, but she thought sheâd heardâŚ
With practiced haste, Lily cast a series of Notice-Me-Not, soundless and warding charms over Harryâs crib. There was a short-lasting Harry illusion set up in the other corner of the room; another wave of her wand activated it. At this last spell, the lone light-bulb that had been holding out at her magic use finally popped out. Another flick of her wand sent the curtains flinging shut, shrouding the room in darkness.
It was with a carrot-sight charm on her eyes and a powerful shield charm surrounding her that Lily approached her closed door. A peek through the hole showed Peter, and she relaxed, just a fraction. The chances of her doe being intercepted were slim to none, but being alone with her son meant no chances could be taken.
Lily backed away and positioned herself a few feet in front of the illusion of her son. With one last look at the corner where she knew her real baby was hidden, Lily opened the door at a distance with a non-verbal âAlohomoraâ.
Though she was almost certain it was one of her husbandâs best and oldest friends — one of Lilyâs own most trusted and dearest friends, too — hovering by the doorway, still Lily brandished her wand, ready to cast spells of protection and damage if he should prove an impostor. âWhat did you give me last Christmas?â
Peter decided five seconds was a perfectly acceptable amount of time to wait for his knock to rouse a response. At three seconds he decided five seconds was two seconds too long and he turned from the door, only managing a few quick steps in the direction of his own room across the hall before he heard the door swing open behind him. He froze, eyes popping open wide with panic, and turned only when he heard Lilyâs voice. Squinting into the darkness beyond the door, he took a cautious half-step forward and swallowed the lump of anxiety in his throat.
âCockroach Clusters,â he blurted, but that was only part of the answer. Gifting Lily Cockroach Clusters was something of a tradition but it was an aside to whatever last minute, poorly thought out gift he grabbed any given year, never anything particularly memorable regardless of how clever it seemed at the time of purchase. Brow furrowing, he wracked his mind and scratched at the back of his neck, âI -â he stammered, âI think it was a dictaquill, wasnât it? Worked a bit like a thesaurus if it thought your word choices were uninspired.â He paused for a response but didnât actually wait long enough for one before throwing more nerve-laden words into the dark void beyond the doorway, âOr was that the year before last? Couldâve been, I think it was.â
The more he spoke, the more Lily was sure it was really Peter in front of her. Even if someone had somehow found out that Peter always got her a gift of their favourite sweetie, they wouldnât know to stumble through it in quite the same way. The security questions she had for the boys might appear low-ball, but that was only because for Lily, the way the question was answered meant as much as the answer itself.
One flick of her wand saw the curtains springing back open to let the light in, while another saw them tie themselves that way. It was past sunset, so the light they offered was minimal, but months in hiding had made Lily treasure any kind of natural light. âThe DictaQuill was the Christmas before last.â She confirmed with a wide smile. Though she still held her wand up, it was in a distinctly non-offensive position; she used it to re-light the candles sheâd doused before. âCome in, Peter. Unless you have a question youâd like to ask me? You know I donât mind.â
âOh,â said Peter with a forced nod, a strange motion that had his head looking somewhat disjointed from his neck. Feigning casual responses had never come easily to him, his jitters caused enough interference between his mind and body that it was very rare an attempt to play it cool ever came off looking anything even close to it. âThat was the one before last, youâre right,â he echoed with a certain hollowness in his words, not really having put more thought into it. Peter was feeling much like a rat with its feet stuck in a glue trap, just speaking to give him an excuse not to move, his staring eyes fixed solely on Lily until they adjusted enough to the lighting to make out a crib in the room, too.
He did not want to go in there. That she should be dead was not just a guess on his part, he had already seen hers and Jamesâ lifeless bodies and if he closed his eyes for just a moment he knew from previous experience that he would see them again. With a sweating palm he touched the door-frame, feet still unmoving, âOkay, Iâll ask a question.â Only because asking a question meant he could spend even longer not walking into a potential trap because thatâs exactly what this could be, maybe James was lurking around somewhere nearby ready to take him out the second he got close enough. The thought alone caused his heart to race itâs way practically out of his chest and down the hallway exactly the way he wished he could, too.
He cleared his throat, trying to remember one of many security questions he had memorized. They all seemed another world away now. âThird year, what advice did you give me on the Hogsmeade trip?â Once heâd finally managed to think of them, the words tumbled out clumsily like a bunch of schoolchildren pushing one another out the escape door of a burning bus. It was his level four question, one that literally no one else but her could know, and he had never used it before.
Lily paused. Of all the questions sheâd expected from him, it somehow hadnât been that. Though there were other candles to light, she lowered her wand. With the door open and Harry to think of, she couldnât slide it away completely, but lowering it was something she could to him. He looked sweaty and ready to bolt. Whatever heâd seen made him afraid it wasnât her. Even considering her Patronus.
âI told you youâd be better off without James and Sirius.â She said the words slowly, tapping back into the person sheâd been once upon a time, who thoughtlessly disdained her now husband, the Godfather of her child, while being best friends with a purist. âI told you to look outside of your dorm and maybe even Gryffindor for friends who would appreciate you for who you are, not punish you for not being just like them.â
Lily brushed her hair behind her ear, because the alternative was reaching out to comfort him. âWormy, whatâs wrong? You look like youâve seen a Boggart.â
Knowing it was most definitely her achieved the opposite of making him feel better. âIâm- No, Iâm fine. Completely fine,â he leaned through the door-frame just enough to look into the corners of the room nearest him. Nothing. Not that that meant anything, he knew, having been acquainted with Jamesâ invisibility cloak for long enough. âIs he here? ...James?â he asked, feeling stupid as he forced the question from his lips because, like Lily, James was dead. He jabbed a stark white finger in the general direction of the crib, âAnd Harry? Heâs also here?â
What about Sirius? Oh, how he hoped Sirius wouldnât be hidden away somewhere nearby waiting to spring and ready to throttle him. Maybe he and James would just hold him still for Lily to deal with. Merlin, thatâd be so much worse. He wiped his slick hands on his jeans and breathed deeply, trying to turn his thoughts from what he knew might happen at any moment. He assumed Lily would lie. Of course she wouldnât blow Jamesâ cover upon his request if they were here to punish him for what heâd done. Peter decided he should have never left his room. As usual, his best decisions always revealed themselves in hindsight.
The more Peter spoke, the more puzzled Lily became. The way he was acting, it was almost like he thought James was right here in the room. While not out of the realm of possibly, with his Invisibility cloak, and other magic, he had no reason to hide from Peter. âHarryâs with me, but I donât know where James is. Iâve only seen you. No one else has replied to my Patronus yet.â
Deciding that assuring whatever was wrong with Peter was worth the slight risk of a Death Eater being out in the hall, Lily cancelled the illusions of Harryâs crib, where Peter had just pointed, and went to the real Harry. He was blinking up at her with her own green eyes, mouth half-way opened in a yowl of âMamaâ that cut off as soon as he saw her he had her attention. Her reached for her hair to tug at it. âIâm sorry, sweetie.â She murmured to him as she picked him up and got him settled against her. âI had to be sure it was Uncle Wormy.â
She held her right hand up so Harry could play with her rings while she kept hold of her wand, and turned to face Peter again. âI was hoping the other boys were with you.â A thought occurred to her that made her freeze, ice blossoming out from her stomach. Could Peter be under the Imperius Curse? She studied him anew with sharp eyes. But there was no sheen in his own eyes, no glassiness or slowness of movement. She fought to relax, but it was difficult, when she was somewhere unknown, without her husband. âCan you shut the door? I donât like Harry being in the open like this.â
Watching Lily with Harry sparked such a sharp, wrenching sensation of guilt he couldnât help but wince and hearing Uncle Wormy scraped at his ear drums like sandpaper. At her request, he finally unstuck his feet from the floor and stepped slowly inside of the room, legs feeling heavy and wooden. Peter pulled the door shut behind him far more slowly than was necessary, the click when it shut was barely audible. Everything in him wanted to be on the other side of that door.
âItâs been two days,â he began, âNo sign of anyone. Er, no one I - we - know, anyway.â As hard as he tried to keep his eyes on Lily, they continually darted to different points around the room, âI didnât expect Iâd see you again.â A truer thing had never been said, really.
The relief she felt at Peter coming into the room properly was a pressure being lifted. For a moment, sheâd been genuinely worried that heâd refuse to be alone with her and Harry. It was an absurd thought, but it was absurd times they lived in, and an absurd place theyâd found themselves in. A final flick of her wand locked the door behind him, and then she slid her wand behind her ear, as she might a quill, or a pen. Now she could wrap both her arms around her son.
And then Peter spoke, and Lilyâs eyebrows rose. Harry was tugging at her hair again — a reminder she needed to tie it up — but all she did was mouth âTwo daysâ. Trying to work out this latest puzzle. âBut that makes no sense. James only spoke to you yesterday. You Fire Called when I was in the bath, to see how Harryâs birthday had gone off, donât you remember?â Though what she was hearing was beyond alarming, Lily kept her cool. On auto-pilot, she untangled Harryâs chubby fingers from her hair and tickled them with the scratch of her nails, making him giggle.
âUnless that wasnât you?â She was doubtful, saying it; James didnât know Peter as well as he did Padfoot, but still well enough to notice if something was that off. But here Wormtail was, saying âtwo daysâ so bleakly. Sheâd tried to get out of the bath quick enough to say hello to Peter, but by the time sheâd patted downstairs, heâd had to go. Had they missed something crucial about their best friend, their Secret Keeper?
At the sound of the lock he inadvertently jolted, posture straightening arrow-straight all at once. And Lilyâs face - was that suspicion? Of what? The blood froze in his veins and, at first, his panicked mind could make no sense of anything she said but he managed to properly tune in again at the mention of him fire calling after Harryâs birthday. His posture relaxed back to its normal slump, the easing of his nerves physically manifesting as a sort of physical deflation reminiscent of an unknotted helium balloon. âNo, no, no - that was me," he breathed, tugging absently at the lank blonde bangs hanging over his pallid forehead, "I remember that but it was months ago."
"Two days ago for me was-" A pause. His hand stilled in his hair and he considered lying. Maybe he should say it was the beginning of October, nowhere near Halloween yet, but when he opened his mouth to do just that he remembered You Know Who's wand hidden away in the desk drawer back in his room. His mouth shut quickly. No, he couldn't. There would be no plausible explanation for him to have You-Know-Who's wand before the attack at Godric's Hollow. He didn't want to tell Lily now but he got the distinct feeling he should preserve the ability to bring it up later in relation to the wand if he had to. With a certain it-wasn't-me spin, of course. "It was Halloween," he said, hand dropping to his side, "Just after. People here, I've been reading what they write. They get brought in from all different places, sometimes the same places but different times. Like us."
Lily blinked. âThatâs rather different.â Sheâd never heard of this kind of time travel before, not outside of fiction, and yet it wasnât that that made her feel numb. Peter had been looking at her like she was his own worst fears brought to life. But perhaps not a Boggart, after all. Perhaps a ghost. Or two.
She looked down at her son. He was nuzzling against her chest, but not like he was hungry, more like he was a cat trying to rest his head in the best place to sleep. She brought him closer, pressing her lips to his forehead, and the feel of her heartbeat was so strong in her chest, in her throat, that her ears felt thick with blood. âIs Harry alive?â She couldnât take her eyes off her son, her beautiful, happy, healthy, endangered son. It was possible she was over-reaching, seeing death when there was only kidnapping or torture, both of which sheâd borne before. âIs James?â In the scheme of things, she didnât matter. Not next to their son.
His mouth ran dry, he wrung his hands together, his eyes dropped to the ground. "Harry - Harry's fine. He's absolutely fine," he answered quickly. Peter had walked right into this conversation much sooner than he'd hoped to. Well, in all honesty, he was sort of hoping to avoid it altogether. He felt very strongly yet again that he would very much like to be on the other side of the locked door. Instead, he sought out the closest chair and sat heavily upon it, gripping the armrests tightly. "You and James," he started, voice cracking with anxiety, still unable to meet her eyes and doing everything he could to block out Harry's contented cooing, "...Not so fine."
The word was a just above a whisper and he hadn't looked up from the carpet since before he sat down, "Dead."
âHarryâs fine. Heâs absolutely fine.â Lily repeated it to herself, over and over again. Focus on that, and not on James being dead, on their son being an orphan sometime before November 1st. At most, they had three more months with him, with each other. And Sirius⌠what kind of shape would Sirius be in, without both of them? Without James? How hard would it be for him to rally and raise Harry? And Remus⌠What if theyâd never gotten around to making sure Remus would be financially comfortable, in the event they both died? Theyâd been so busy, moving all the time, and then the Fidelius had been presented and theyâd grown comfortableâŚ
It was Harry making noise, screwing his face up to cry, that made Lily realise she was holding him too tightly. âIâm sorry, sweetheart.â She whispered, blinking back tears of her own, determined as she was to keep her eyes wide open and on her son for as long as she possibly could. âYouâre with Mama now. Dada will be here when he can. Uncle Paddy will look after you, the silly man. We all love you so much.â Her son, her Harry, stared back at her, confused but no longer teary. âItâs not your fault.â
She managed to tear her eyes from her son to look at her friend, voice hardening with resolve. âItâs not your fault either, Wormtail. And if we can fix this, we can. But if we donât.. Whatever happened to James and I, however it happened, I donât blame you.â
Hearing her words to Harry, the sadness in her voice, that was the dagger that went straight through his chest. Then she told him it wasnât his fault, that she didnât blame him, and that was both the twist of it and the slice that gutted him. The carpet pattern blurred before his eyes and he blinked away tears. What heâd done was bad enough, he was sure living with it wouldnât be much easier even before he realized that now heâd have these damned words banging around his head for the rest of his days. But could it really be a possibility that it could be fixed? The thought gave him a bit of hope he immediately felt he had no right to have.
âOkay,â he forced, pushing himself up from the chair, âIâll give you some time to, uh,â he gestured vaguely, still making it a point not to so much as glance in her direction, âBut Iâm right across the way, actually, ifâŚâ He shrugged, hand already twisting the lock on the door, âIf whatever.â With that, he practically bolted out of the room like the ghost behind him might still choose to chase him down and get her revenge.