The Marauders: Year Three | #Wattys2016

Slughorn's Warning

Slughorn's Warning

Peter hadn't been able to sleep since being home. He was so exhausted he could barely think, only managing to get his eyes closed for maybe ten to twenty minutes at a time before the nightmares started. In his dreams, Peter's mum was always in a giant brass birdcage, crying out, calling his name, and the sound of Voldemort's laughter echoed all around him from walls made of mirrors. He would run, scurrying, really, having turned into a rat, and the floor would seem to spin, like he was caught on one of those bloody hamster wheels and he'd wake up as the floor completely dissolved and his mum's screams filled his ears.

Mrs. Pettigrew's attackers had left nothing of her, so absolutely had her obliteration been. All that had remained was the mark on the pavement in the alley, and the memories locked deep in Maggie's shut-down mind. She still had not spoken, her eyes always on the verge of tears, and although the aurors asked her everyday if she could identify the witch or wizard that had done the murderin', Maggie wouldn't even nod or acknowledge their presence much at all. So when they held the funeral for Mrs. Pettigrew, all they had to bury was her favorite sweater and her prized wooden spoon. Peter stood to one side of the place where they were laying her memory to rest, clutching a spellbook she'd left on her bedside table, a book of simple home spells, like knitting and cleaning and the like. She'd written notes all about it, on almost every page, and he liked reading them. He felt closer when he did. So he'd taken to carrying it nearly everywhere.

The burial was something that Peter had been dreading. Not only was it a horrible experience, to stand and say goodbye to your loved one, but also it meant the end of the time he'd be spending at home. He'd be going back to Hogwarts the next day, via the floo network to McGonagall's office, and he was dreading it. He'd received a letter from Remus, clutched in the beak of Bubo, saying that all three of the lads missed him and wished him well and were thinking of him... but he wasn't certain if James or Sirius would even notice he was gone. And he certainly wasn't looking forward to answering all the questions that were sure to be asked by, not just them, but everyone in the school. The last thing he wanted to do was answer questions.

He sighed and hugged the book even closer to his chest.

That night, his last at home, Peter sat in the living room late into the night, looking through his mum's book, running his fingers over a page where she'd written out a shopping list for the market - it was labeled For Peter's Return and contained all his favorite snacks. He felt a tear roll over his cheek.

There was a stirring in the hall then and he looked up to see Maggie come in, walking slow like a wraith, her eyes slightly unfocused as she sat down. He stole glances at her, but neither one said anything, and she never once looked his direction, just staring blankly at the squat coffee table's top.

Peter closed the book and laid it across his lap. "I'm going back to school tomorrow," he said. No response. "I'll miss you. We didn't get to talk much. Or at all, really, since you're not talking..." he paused. "Would you write me?" he asked.

Maggie shrugged.

Peter frowned. "Well... I hope you do..." He stood up. "It gets mighty lonely about Hogwarts sometimes."

Maggie didn't reply.

He sighed, "Are you staying up? I reckon I'm going to go to bed now. It's been a long day..."

Maggie didn't react.

"Alright then. Goodnight."

Peter started for the stairs that led to the hall upstairs. He was on the first step, even, when he heard Maggie's voice... softly whispering... "Mopsus sees all."