The Marauders: Year Six Part 2 #Wattys2017

The Rat on the Grounds

Peter Pettigrew sat on his bed in the dark, his legs crossed before him, rattling his stones in the velvet bag. "What will we have for breakfast in the Great Hall?" he whispered and upturned the bag across his bed. They tumbled over one another, clicking as they fell on the duvet. He stared at them in concentration, then sighed and scooped them up. "I s'pose it was a bit too specific to expect from divination stones anyway," he muttered, shaking his head and sliding the stones one by one back into the bag. He glanced over to his right at James's empty bed, then to his left and Remus's bed, where Remus lay, half smothered by a furry black dog, whose back leg was kicking against the headboard as he dreamed, his claws scratching a beat on the wood. Peter tucked the stones away in the drawer of his nightstand, and decided that he'd waited there long enough - it was time to go find James.

Rolling across on his belly, Peter stood up, tucking his feet into his slippers. He stepped on something as he did, and looked down to see James's wand, knocked onto the floor beside his bed. His eyes widened, and he scooped the wand up, clutching it with both hands, then looking at James's bed. "Oh no," he muttered, "Oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no - no, no, no - oh dear." He grabbed his own wand and one of his lucky crystals that were laying on the window sill soaking up some of the moonlight, and rushed for the door, pausing for but a second to grab his pyjama robe. He struggled to get his arms through the holes as he rushed down the stairs to the common room, jabbing the two wands he carried into his pocket, and fighting to cinch the robe strings as he climbed out the portrait hole door and into the corridor.

"Too early for this nonsense," yawned the Fat Lady's portrait as Peter scurried down the hallway, his heart racing so hard he could feel it in the tips of his ears.

"Petey! Your feety - they make so much noises on the floors at this hour!" sang Peeves, zooming into view as Peter ran down the hallway toward the stairwell. Peeves hovered along side him, doing somersaults in the air by Peter's head, "Not Peeves's fault if you're caught, you naughty stink bomb!" He cackled and drifted down before Peter, "Unless of course I were to YELL THAT THERE'S A STU---"

"Quiet Peeves!" Peter said with as much confidence as he could muster. If he was being honest, the ghosts at Hogwarts scared him a good deal, and his voice trembled slightly speaking to Peeves.

Peeves cackled all the harder and blew a raspberry.

"I solemnly swear I'm up to no good, Peeves," Peter said. "So hush it before you mess me up."

Peeves clapped his hands, "No good, no good! Peevesy will makes it easy! What sort of no good are we doing?" He turned over so he hung upside down before Peter's face, "WHAT CAN PEEVES DO TO HELP THE PLAN?"

"Stop shouting," Peter begged, waving his hands at Peeve's mouth. His palms went right through the hazy being of Peeves, who shivered and flipped back over, above Peter and out of his stubby-arms length. Peter stared up at him. "Have you seen James?"

"Potty wee Potter?!" Peeves looked around, "Is him and Silly Sirius slinking about too?!" He did several turns in the air, then paused and looked at Peter, "ARE YOU ALL UP TO NO GOOD?"

"Yes, yes!" Peter said hurriedly, "I solemnly swear we're all up to no good -- stop shouting! You'll get Filch headed up here if you don't give it a rest."

Peeves snickered evilly, "Filchy's busy in the courtyard, chasing Regulus Black." When Peter looked surprised, Peeves asked, "Mischief must run in the family." He wiped an imaginary tear of pride from his eyes, then cackled and flipped over again. He started to zoom off when Peter stopped him.

"Wait! Peeves! You're sure you haven't seen James?"

Peeves hovered over the chasm that the moving staircases rotated over as Peter's case shuddered and moved beneath him in a wide arch. Peter hugged the banister for balance. "Seen James, no, but we both know Potty-Pot-Potter can go see through!" He spun about. "ScuUUUze me, but Peevsey has some chamber pots to spill!"