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The Pawn


The business the Dark Lord had to conduct with Peter in the privacy of the parlor had been most horrible business indeed. Under the imperius curse held by the Blind Seer, Peter had sat down at a little table in the parlor room. He had left Peter alone like that for sometime, allowing the situation to really stew in Peter’s captive mind, allow the realizations of exactly what was happening sink in.

My mother’s alive, Peter thought.

She’s alive. She’s here. Alive.

But he’s going to kill her.

Using me.

He said I was going to kill her.

But she’s alive now. She’s alive.

The Dark Lord’s here. I’m in the clutches of the Dark Lord. I’m probably going to die, too. But right now mum’s alive and so am I.

If only Sirius was here or James or Remus. If only they were here, maybe we could figure out how to get out of here and we could all escape and live through this all.

Why’s it got to be me that’s here? Me. I’m not able to do this alone. I’m not able to save myself and my mum and Frank and Alice too.

Maybe Frank is.

Maybe Frank will save us all. Frank can do it. He’s brave. Much braver than I am… That’s not hard, though, to be braver than me.

I’m a coward. Everyone says so.

What will Annalee think when she finds I’ve been killed? Will she be sad? Will she care at all? I hope she’s sad for me. I hope I mean enough that she’ll perhaps shed a tear that I’m gone.

Probably she won’t, though. Probably nobody will.

Probably they won’t even notice I’ve gone.

I’ve never meant that much to anyone.

Except my mum.

She’s alive…

And the thoughts had started all over again… a cycle of panicked words racing through his arrested mind.

Whether it was hours or minutes that had passed in the dark and silence, lost in his trembling thoughts, Peter could never tell. But finally, the door had creaked opened and Mopsus had entered. The old man’s twisted cane scraped the floor as he walked across the room to the table where Peter sat. They were alone. Mopsus roughly dropped a small tray before Peter. It contained a silver goblet with the Lestrange crest on it, full of dark purple mead, some bread, and a small hunk of cheese. There was even a few squares of chocolate there on the tray as well.

“It’s said that rats like cheese,” murmured Mopsus.

Peter felt his limbs reach for the cheese and rip it apart, felt it go into his mouth, felt himself chewing it and swallowing it, Mopsus’ control guiding his limbs.

Mopsus sat across from Peter at the table and sighed, gripping his cane. The milky eyes stared off, unfocused and unseeing, as he made Peter eat the food. The mead was horrible, it burned Peter’s throat as it went down, but Mopsus made him drink it and a warm sensation coursed through his veins…

When the food was gone and Peter’s hands had rested the silver goblet back down on the tray, Mopsus drew a deep breath and resettled himself upon the seat across from his captive audience. Peter’s eyes stared straight ahead.

“I know what you think of me, Peter, and what your friends think of me, and what a good deal of the students at Hogwarts think of me. But I assure you I am not as evil a man as you may believe me to be.” He leaned back into the chair - it creaked. “Some may even say that I was a good man once. But things have changed. Dark things. They continue to change… I’m an old man, Peter. I’ve seen a lot of things…” he chuckled. “Well. Blind from birth, I suppose I haven’t seen anything at all, really, but I have a gift, my boy, a gift that allows me to see without seeing… Mopsus sees all.” A wavering, elderly sort of smile crossed the man’s face. “I’ve been a fool,” he muttered, “And I’ve been a hero. And I’ve been a saint. And I’ve been the devil’s advocate. And I’ve even been the devil himself…”

Mopsus stood, walking to the fireplace and running his palm along the stone, feeling the bumps of the brick. “Incendio,” he said, lighting the logs in the hearth. He returned to his seat and folded his hands over the cane once again.

“Peter, it was never meant to be you.”

Peter stared straight ahead, no ability to do otherwise.

“In fact, it may never be you. You’re a pawn in a game, I’m afraid, a pawn in a game I am playing against the Fates themselves. You would never be here today if I hadn’t taken the post at Hogwarts and for that I apologize. I tried to talk Dumbledore out of it, tried to tell him that the soul of a boy would be on the line, but he didn’t listen to me…

“I’m afraid Albus has never been very good at listening…” Mopsus shook his head, continuing. “Even as a boy, I told Albus many times that he needed to slow down and listen more, and pay attention to the fine detail, to never underestimate those who the world underestimates. It’ll get him in trouble, lives will be lost because of it. Too keen on protecting, that’s his biggest mistake. He’ll protect a boy with a ferocity one day so great that he will fail to be honest to the boy when he should, and the cost will be the life of an innocent man... falling through the veil.” Mopsus was quiet a long moment, respecting the image of life lost. “Mopsus sees all.”

“I, too, protect, Peter, you understand. I see with the inner eye and I know. I know that the Dark Lord needs to be distracted. Tunnel vision will allow the truth to remain hidden as his obsession grows… Will allow the Chosen One to be born… If the Dark Lord knew the truth, Peter, then -- oh how differently things would turn out! The blood that would be shed!” Mopsus shook his head. “You’re a necessary piece in my game of chess, you see. But I am sorry that you are a pawn. I am sorry that I had to take you here. I am sorry for what will become of you because of this night. Because of my choice. Because of my protection… my allegiance to the Chosen One… But I have said too much.”

Silence fell over them.

Suddenly the door of the parlor banged open and there was the Dark Lord, his eyes red and glowing dangerously as he moved toward Peter.

Voldemort walked carefully around Peter, staring at him. “I’ve wanted you here for some time now, Mr. Pettigrew,” he murmured as he hovered, his voice low and high at exactly the same time in that strange, rasping way that he had. His bone-white wand hovered from long-nailed fingers that grasped the handle of it delicately. “Over a year I have waited… patiently… for your arrival. I’ve watched my followers fail time and again to collect you for me.” He leaned close, “You see there’s been a prophecy and it involves you… and I.” His mouth was nearly on Peter’s ear as he hissed the words. But Peter had no control to flinch away, his face showed no emotion his eyes didn’t so much as blink.

The Dark Lord cackled quietly and stood upright.

“Did I ever expect such a prophecy would be made about someone as… useless… and pathetic… as lowly… and unwanted… as you?” he hissed, turning and leaning close again, on the opposite side of Peter’s face, his fingers clasping the boy’s shoulders, his wand crossing over Peter’s chest in the process. “Not even your friends want you, Peter, so why should I? Why should anyone?”

Voldemort leaned away. He grinned maliciously, then continued circling Peter, like a vulture circling food. “But I do, Peter, and now I have you, and you shall become my most faithful servant in the end…”

Across the table, Mopsus closed his eyes… a pained expression on his face.

The Dark Lord grabbed onto Peter’s left arm, pulling it tight across the table. “First. We make the mark.” And the Dark Lord raised his wand…

Suddenly, Mopsus fell forward, clutching his heart, hitting the wood floor with a horrendous cry.

Voldemort, in his surprise, released Peter’s arm. “What --”

And at that exact moment, there came an explosive crash from the front of the house.

The Dark Lord turned, confused, surrounded by stimuli, “What is --”

“MY CLOCKS!” cried the seer, “My clocks!” his voice rasped and he clutched his chest, struggling toward the fire. “I need -- floo powder -- I need my -- the clocks!”

Peter’s mind broke free.

“WHAT… IS… HAPPENING?!?” The Dark Lord bellowed, anger flashing through him as Peter yanked his arm out of the Dark Lord’s grasp and the Blind Seer struggled, reaching with shaking hand toward the pot of green powder on the mantel. Voldemort’s anger flashed red-hot and he grabbed onto Peter’s arm so tight that Peter thought it might break. The Dark Lord grabbed Mopsus by the shoulder, flipping him onto his back, dragging Peter behind him, and he aimed the wand at the throat of the seer. “TELL ME WHAT IS HAPPENING!!!”

But Mopsus only laughed.




It was somewhere over a muggle town that Sirius realized the brakes on the motorbike weren’t exactly working. James had leaned forward, “SUN’S UP, SIRUS!” James had shouted, “WE SHOULD DRIVE ON THE GROUND LIKE MUGGLES SO WE AREN’T SEEN!”

“RIGHT, YEAH,” Sirius had said. But then he’d squeezed the brake grip and nothing had happened and he’d had a moment of silent internal panic, squeezing it repeatedly, begging the gods of the universe to please make the blasted motorbike slow down, but nothing happened, and so he said to James, “ACTUALLY, I HAVE A BETTER IDEA!”

“WHAT?” James shouted over the wind and roar of the bike.

“WE’RE NEARLY THERE!” Sirius said to divert attention from the brakes. He didn’t want to panic James. As he drove the motorbike along, catching glimpses of muggle vehicles moving through the patterns of streets far below them as they ducked in and out of clouds over the city, he tried to think of ways to stop the motorbike. They really were coming closer and closer to the Lestrange Manor and flying over the cities was really the fastest way - he wasn’t sure he knew how to get there on muggle streets anyway…

He’d just spotted the manor and started to push down on the handlebars to lower the motorbike - still unsure how the bloody hell he was going to stop it, he’d just come to the idea that maybe if he stopped with the acceleration and just slowly corkscrewed downward to the lawn it would stop naturally - when there was a sputtering and the exhaust let out a burp of black smoke.

James looked back at the pipe. “WHAT WAS THAT?” he asked.

Sirius was about to answer sarcastically when the bike sputtered again, seemed to cough… shudder… and shot forward, out of control.

“WHAT WAS THAT?!!!” James sounded panicked.

Giving in - there was no way to hide that the bloody bike was now spinning in circles as James was grabbing onto Sirius as though for dear life as they spiraled tightly toward the ground. “WE’RE GOING TO HAVE TO JUMP!” Sirius shouted.

“YOU AREN’T SERIOUS!?” James cried.

“I’M ALWAYS SIRIUS!”

“THIS IS NOT THE TIME YOU BLASTED ---”

But Sirius had grabbed hold of James and ejected himself from the seat of the bike, pulling James along.

“BLOODY HELLLLLLLLLL!” James shrieked as they fell through the air - the bike soaring and roaring forward - right into the front of the manor before them, blasting its way through one - two - three columns and the front wall of the house, disappearing inside with a burst of red-hot flames and black trailing smoke.

They were tumbling down… down… toward the lawn… a great black sea of undulating thorns below. Sirius squeezed his eyes shut, terrified, certain they were about to hit the ground and probably end up dead anyway after all this... and suddenly felt himself caught up and swinging and without taking time to figure out what had halted him he quickly pulled his wand from his pocket and waved it at James’s falling body, “Arresto momentum!”

James’s fall ended just a couple feet from the horrible moving thorn bush and he stared at it, having been about to belly-flop to the earth, with wide eyes. His glasses were missing, having fallen off some time during the fall.

Sirius looked up to see what had caught him and found himself hanging by the rip in his jeans on a tree branch, a bit of blood on his knee where the branch had inserted itself up his pant leg. He was swinging upside down, his leather jacket and shirt bunched around his arms and his hair dangling quite messily. The branch curved threateningly.

This is how they were when the front doors of the Lestrange Manor burst open and a stream of Death Eaters came out, led by Rudolphus Lestrange and his wife, Bellatrix, Sirius’s cousin. He sneered when he saw her, though she didn’t notice him - none of the Death Eaters noticed either of the boys, they were too consumed with the surprise of the smoke and flame exuding from the path of the motorbike that had launched itself at the house.

“MOTHER’S HOUSE!!” Rudolphus was shouting, “MOTHER’S HOUSE!!!” he was waving his wand frantically, trying to douse the flames and Bellatrix was shrieking loudly at the top of her horrid, high-pitched voice.

Sirius realized he was practically a flag for their invasion - if anyone looked over from the house, they’d be sure to see him waving about in the tree there, so he looked up, “Reducto,” he aimed the spell at the branch he was stuck on and it broke, sending him tumbling to the ground below. He hit the ground with some force, knocking the wind out of his chest.

“Siiiirius,” James hissed, “I’m not touching this bloody plant - I can’t see much, but it looks alive or something!”

“It’s Devil’s Snare, I think, or some form of it, at least,” Sirius replied, “I’m surprised it hasn’t grabbed you… Must be dormant.”

“I dunno what the bloody hell it is but get me away from it!”

Sirius yanked the branch from his jeans so he could move, rolling over and aiming his wand, “Accio James.”

James floated over and Sirius couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity of the scene before him… The smoke and flames, Bellatrix’s shrieks, James’s floating body all contorted from the fall, the moving black thorns… He tugged James from the air and both boys fell to the snow. James panted, breathless from the adrenaline that was coursing through his veins. Sirius, too, was gasping for air, trying to restore his lungs from the fall…

“I am never getting on a motorbike again,” James said.

“You kidding? That was incredible. I’m getting myself one of those the first chance I get.”

“You’re mental.”

“I’ve never felt so alive.”

“Mental. We’ve only nearly died just now.”

Sirius laughed quietly and looked over at James. James looked back. “There’s no bloke I’d rather have nearly died with than you, mate.”

James smirked. “Same.”

Sirius grinned. “Wanna go kick some Voldy arse?”

“Yeah. Let’s do.”

“C’mon. I have a plan.” Sirius rolled over and crawled across the snow, his belly still pressed against the cold ground as he went, dragging himself by his elbows. James followed suit until they were crawling under the bushes that lined the house. “C’mon ‘round back. I know a way in.” James looked over his shoulder at the billowing black smoke, and followed Sirius ‘round the side of the manor, crouching low against the stone…