The Death Eaters approached Sirius in his fifth year; the letter arrived carried by a nondescript post owl that was gone before Sirius realized what it had brought. He and James had had a bet on about who would be the first to be asked, and James paid up, handing over the deck of pornographic playing cards that Sirius had been coveting since James had first brought them out to play pinochle on the train.
"Just the thing to slip into Snape's homework," Sirius said gleefully.
"This is what the Death Eaters look for in their recruits?" James asked, rolling his eyes. "A talent for heavy-handed practical jokes?"
"Maybe it was my classroom skills."
"What, getting as high marks as possible for as little work?" Peter said.
Sirius shrugged.
"Maybe I look like a homicidal nutcase who wakes up every morning gnashing his teeth about our precious bloodlines being polluted." He held up an imaginary mirror and regarded himself in it critically. "Is it the hair?"
"You're not so scary," Remus said. "Anyway, not in a dim light."
"Typical bunch of Slytherins," Sirius said. "Think they can get Gryffindors to do their dirty work for them."
"What are you going to do about it?" Peter said.
"Try to forget about it," Sirius said.
"Only not actually forget about it," James added. He looked at Remus for support, and Remus nodded.
Peter thought about it, late that night, behind the heavy dark curtains that marked the only place where he could be entirely honest. He wondered if they knew something that he didn't, some darkness in Sirius that he couldn't yet see.
Some of Sirius's jokes weren't very funny. Sometimes Peter wondered how he'd feel about them if he were in Slytherin. Not that the Sorting Hat would ever have put him in Slytherin. He wasn't so sure about Sirius.
There wasn't any point in talking to James or Remus about it. They'd just say that Sirius was his friend, and didn't he trust him? Of course he trusted Sirius, but trust didn't mean you had to be stupid. He figured he'd keep his eyes open, just in case, and then tried to forget about it. Only not actually forget about it.
James was next, early the next summer. He showed the anonymous letter to them in a very sunny bistro in the French Riviera, where they'd gone for the day to celebrate the fact that were out of school and that they could. Remus and Lily had been new to Apparation, but they'd both insisted they were game; when they arrived Remus looked smug and Lily relieved.
"Not feeling faint?" Sirius said to Lily, not particularly kindly.
"Fine, thanks," she said, and made a point of sitting down on the opposite side of the table from him, between Peter and James. Sirius muttered something that sounded like "gone to ground," and placed himself at the foot of the table where he could glare at her. James insisted it was all friendly rivalry with those two, but Peter wasn't sure of that.
When James tossed the letter on the table, the sharp dark letters on the parchment looked even darker in the warm amber light.
"They must not know you at all," Lily said. "If they'd asked anyone who actually knows you, they wouldn't have bothered."
"Well, at least they think I'm worth corrupting," James said.
"We could try to trace it," Sirius said.
James and Remus both looked at him skeptically. He shrugged.
"Just an idea."
"Think I should give it to Dumbledore?" James said.
"No," Peter said. "He already thinks you're a troublemaker."
James had always been the ringleader at least of the more successful of their pranks; Peter was sure Dumbledore knew that. And James always seemed to get what he wanted, no matter what it was. That wasn't a reason for people to like him.
"Maybe he's right," Lily said, and smiled at Peter. "Just burn it or something."
"Incendio!" Sirius said.
"Who put paper flowers on the table anyway?" Sirius complained, rather later, as they started on meal number two in a wizard pub in Bristol.
"As if setting the letter on fire wouldn't have gotten us thrown out anyway," James said.
"Sloppy technique," Remus said. "Remember, swish and flick."
"Planning to take points from Gryffindor?" James asked Lily. He hadn't stopped teasing her about being chosen as a prefect since he'd heard, which Lily (correctly, as far as Peter knew) was taking as proof that James was proud of her.
"Oh, like that'll help," Lily said. "Can prefects make people have their heads examined?"
Peter wondered exactly what you would find if you examined James's head. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was evil, but not stupid. There must have been reasons he'd risk writing a letter like that.
Maybe it was just that James had a lot of potential. Peter knew that well enough; everyone certainly said so. And having potential didn't tell anyone what you were going to do with it.
Peter kept an eye out for suspicious owls for a while after that, but one never came for him. He more or less forgot about it until they were a year out of school, and the lot of them were crowded into James and Lily's flat listening to Quidditch on the wireless.
James and Remus had gone off somewhere, and Lily and Sirius were so involved in the game they shushed him every time he tried to talk. It got boring enough that Peter went looking for the other two, planning to exaggerate the drama of the goals they'd missed and drag them back to the match. He found them in the kitchen.
"He wore a mask," Remus was saying quietly.
They both looked up silently when Peter came in, and he felt suddenly awkward.
"Who wore a mask?" Peter asked.
"A recruiter for the Death Eaters, I presume," Remus said. "I didn't think much of his offer. And just talking to him made me want to wash my mouth out with soap."
"Keep the wizarding world pure, yeah, yeah," James said. He glanced toward the front of the house. There were muffled cries of protest and a thump-Peter guessed Lily had thrown something at the wireless. "Do you think they went after you because you're a werewolf?"
"Probably not," Remus said. "It's not exactly common knowledge." James looked like he wanted to say something more, but Remus looked at him levelly, and he stayed quiet.
"The Ministry . . ." Peter suggested.
"Fuck the Ministry," Sirius said from the doorway. "And fuck you," he said to Remus. "Were you planning on telling anyone but James?"
Peter thought if he'd just had to deal with a Death Eater, he'd be angry if someone talked to him like that. Remus just looked exasperated.
"Can anyone have a private conversation around here?" he said.
"No," Sirius said. "Come on, Moony, we're all in this together. It's war, and you know it."
"It's not, yet," Peter said. "You sound like you want it to be."
Sirius stared at him.
"Don't do this right now," James said before Sirius could respond, and Peter bit his tongue on anything else he might have said.
"You both got letters," Remus said.
"We're not talking about anonymous post," Sirius said. "You could have been killed."
"You could still be in trouble," James said. "I don't think Death Eaters are good at taking 'no' for an answer."
"I tried to let him down easy," Remus said with the ghost of a smile. "Do you think that'll help?"
"England won, but just barely," Lily said, arriving in the doorway and stretching to see over Sirius's shoulder. "Some of those referees are blind. What?"
"A Death Eater made me an offer he didn't expect me to refuse," Remus said.
"Join the Dark Lord's army," James said. "See the world, or at least what you can see of England in a mask and a hood."
"They didn't mention travel," Remus said. "Or benefits. And I don't think they have a good pension plan."
"It's not funny," Peter said. "It's not a bit funny."
Remus shrugged.
"Other than starting a career as a minion of evil, I don't know what I can do about it."
"I wish the Ministry would do something," Lily said. "Instead of just saying they're very concerned."
"If they attack him, it'll be worse for Muggles than if they keep trying to talk to him," Peter said. "A war would tear up all of England."
"Not if they know what they're doing," Sirius said. "Muggles don't see what they don't want to see."
Somehow they ended up arguing about what to do about Voldemort instead of hearing whatever the rest of Remus's story was. Peter remembered that, later, after he'd gotten home, to the two-room flat that was all he could manage on a clerk's salary. He wondered if they'd known Remus was a werewolf. Remus wouldn't have wanted to worry James And Remus was so good at lying.
Peter thought the offer might just have looked a little better than Remus had let on, too. After all, he was shorter on money than any of them. And more permanently out of work than Sirius, who just didn't seem to have much of an attention span for any job that reqired showing up regularly. And he must be angry about the way the world was these days. It wasn't much of a world, Peter thought, kicking at the rubbish on the floor of his bedroom. Even if you weren't a werewolf.
They went out to a pub for Peter's birthday in the fall. Lily blamed her absence on not wanting to drink in case she really was pregnant this time, but she'd begged off so many nights out lately that Peter wasn't sure he believed her. He supposed when you got married you had better things to do than hang around with your husband's friends.
Peter thought the night was going pretty well, all things considered, until on his fifth pint he started crying. Sirius looked embarrassed, and James looked guilty, and Remus said "Go away, you two," which they did.
Remus reached for his wand.
"Do you want to sober up, or get drunker?" he said. "I think you stopped in a bad place."
"Get drunker," Peter said, although really he didn't.
"You don't want me to charm you drunker," Remus said, and signalled to the barmaid. "I did that to Sirius, once, and he was sick for a week." The sharp-faced barmaid peered through the smoke at Peter, who was sniffling.
"I think your friend's had enough," she said.
"It's his birthday," Remus said, as if that explained it. Maybe it did. Anyway it made her go away, presumably to fetch another pint. Remus handed him a cocktail napkin, and he blew his nose into it.
He wished Lily were there. She had soft hands and said girl things like "what's wrong?" instead of just putting charms on people. Like that could fix everything.
The pints arrived. Remus set his down in front of him on the table with drunkenly elaborate care.
"Do you ever just hate everybody?" Peter said.
"Yes," Remus said promptly. "But usually not for long."
Peter nodded as if in agreement. He was having trouble making the feeling that everyone, everyone he knew and a lot of people he didn't, were just so stupid, go away at all.
"You need to start dating again," Remus said. "Ariadne wasn't really good for you anyway."
"Oh, her," Peter said with what he imagined was an air of unconcern.
"The world is full of girls," Remus said. "Or whatever."
"Whatever? Well, there's work," Peter said. "The world is full of work. My desk at the Ministry is this deep in papers,"--Peter mimed stacking pint glasses until he ran out of reach--"and it's all work, important work. And what's the point? It'll all fall apart when the war comes."
"You can't put your life on hold until the trouble's over," Remus said. "For one thing, God only knows when that'll be."
"I'm not putting my life on hold. I don't have a life. Any more than you do."
"Well, in fact I--it's not serious, but--" Remus began.
"Oh, great," Peter snapped. "Even you've got a girl."
"I think you have had enough," Remus said coldly.
"Maybe. Maybe. I'm sorry."
"Never mind," Remus said. "But you know, when you feel yourself about to tell people what you really think of them, it's a sign you should stop drinking." He half-helped, half-hauled Peter out of his chair, and then looked at him critically. "You'd better have that Sobering Charm. You're not fit to Apparate."
"Go home. I'll walk," Peter said.
The letter was waiting for him on the doorstep when he got to his flat. He recognized the dark, sharp lettering the moment he slid it out of the envelope, and his heart raced; not, he realized, entirely in fear. He held it in his hands.
It's all been leading up to this, he thought. I haven't ever really had a choice.
He put on the kettle for tea and was ready to open the door when the knocking came.
written by Penknife