Waking Up

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Waking Up



The next day was the first of holiday - and as people were boarding the Hogwarts Express there was an absolute explosion of rumors. People ran from compartment to compartment, spreading the story of what had happened, a duel between James Potter and Severus Snape. People were popping into the Marauders' usual compartment, looking for Peter Pettigrew there to confirm or deny all that they'd heard.

Peter hated all of the attention - he was used to Sirius or James taking the spotlight whenever the Marauders were the center of the attention. But Peter was on the Express all alone - Sirius and Remus both were staying behind at Hogwarts and James had been taken to St. Mungo's during the night. He used his wand to lock the door and sat in the corner, balancing his crystal ball on his lap and staring down at the image of his mum in the reflection, his mind far away from the clunking of the train wheels on the tracks.

He had tried to keep it a secret how often he'd been staring into the crystal ball - not that it was hard to. After all, James and Sirius so rarely paid him any attention that he could sit right before them peering and they'd never know what he was up to. Remus was a bit harder to hide it from - but even he tended to let Peter be unless he had a reason to be concerned with him - after all, it was much more work keeping up with the manic personalities that they played opposite to, and recently Remus had been far too caught up in his own sinking depression to notice Peter's...

Nobody had really noticed it.

It wasn't unusual, after all, for Peter to be quiet as the other three talked loudly and boastfully.

It wasn't unusual, after all, for Peter to sit quietly, alone, studying in the common room, apart from everyone else.

It wasn't unusual, after all, for Peter to be left behind or forgotten as the others rushed on ahead between classes or out to the quidditch pitch or down to breakfast if he wasn't ready yet.

It'd always been that way, ever since first year - ever since they'd been assigned their dormitory and Bilius Weasley had led them away up to Gryffindor Tower after their first ever start of term feast. Even then, Peter had scrambled to keep up with them. So it hadn't been hard for Peter to sneak away to meet with Madam Pomfrey to get a happiness potion to help improve his outlook, which had been so grim after losing his mum. They'd barely noticed what a struggle he'd had with getting back to his feet, and nobody had bothered turning into a dog to come makehim feel better when he'd cried himself to sleep at night...

All summer long he'd sat about at home where the memory of Honey Pettigrew had been so tangible that he'd have sworn her ghost was in the room... Cecil, his father, had barely acknowledged his existence (seemed this was the norm for Peter everywhere he went now) and, as far as he knew, even now, nearly a year later, Maggie still had never said a word...

Peter froze, looking up from his crystal ball.

But... that wasn't true, was it? Maggie had said a word. Maggie had muttered words one night... back at the end of last term, right after their mother had been killed on Diagon Alley... the night before he'd gone back to Hogwarts..... And a chill went through him suddenly and he clutched the crystal ball harder in his hand, recalling the scene... and suddenly there it was, unfolding in the crystal before him... He could see the stairwell of his parents house, the framed photographs that lined the walls, all the smiling copies of himself and Maggie and Cecil and Honey, all from different days - different years - chronologically describing their lives... He'd been on his way up when she'd spoken, her voice a raspy, soft whisper from the living room, where she'd been sitting, staring at the coffee table... Mopsus sees all, she'd said.

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