Tears fell from the sky onto the poorly lit night in Godric's Hollow; it was October 31, 1980. A young man hurried with brisk yet awkward steps through the thick fog that persistently clung to the streets.
Peter Pettigrew, with his disheveled yellowish-red hair, clearly showed he couldn't be bothered with his hygiene at that moment. His eyes gleamed amidst dark circles, a tired and resigned expression, remorseful and, above all, fearful; primarily fear.
His walk was marked by short, quick strides. Occasionally, his eyes diverted to the solid gold watch on his wrist, creating a sense of urgency and anxiety. Perhaps he didn't want to be late, or perhaps he was deliberately delaying, as if avoiding something inevitable. Regardless of the reason, each step brought him closer to his destination: a small house where a man in a reddish-brown cloak awaited.
"You came, Wormtail... how are you?" He said with a warm voice, expressing genuine concern. But for Pettigrew, the voice grated, and the warmth ignited him, burning to the point where his uncomfortable eyes became red and teary.
"Well, James, can we go in?" he said with few words, averting his gaze from his friend's stare.
James continued to look at the distressed Pettigrew in front of him. Something was definitely wrong with him, something very strange. He felt the urge to comfort him, advancing in a consoling embrace.
"Wormtail, what happened to you? I've been trying to reach you since that day last month."
Upon hearing about the specific event, Pettigrew clicked his tongue. "Let's not talk about it," he said, inadvertently pushing away James's embrace.
James sighed, making room for him, thinking about the tension between his two friends. He extended an invitation, "Alright, let's go inside."
He took out a piece of paper and presented it to Pettigrew. As Peter read it, information about the Potter residence flooded his mind, as if he had always known it or should never have forgotten. Strange was the Fidelius charm, where magical essence anchored a secret to a guardian's soul, concealing any information under the spell's protection. It could be a location, a person, or knowledge; for example, the secret-keeper could hide within the secret place, like a protected house, becoming unreachable, revealed only by someone the secret-keeper shared the key information with. It was an almost perfect protective magic.
James, with his wand, used a simple spell to dry Peter and himself from the rain. The two men followed each other into the house, feeling the warmth of the residence: the fireplace's heat, the smell of apple pie in the oven, a few scattered books here and there, among trinkets, some of them mementos, like James's broom, which he won in the Quidditch championship. Things that turned that small space not just into a cold structure but into a home reflecting the owners' lives.
"Sit down, Wormtail," said James, as he settled on the sofa's cushion. When Pettigrew finally settled, James spoke calmly, "We need to talk about what's happening with you. It's terrible, and if it's something I can help with..."
As Pettigrew leaned back in the plush armchair, his eyes wandered from side to side, as if remembering something, expressing nostalgia. Then he said, "You know, Prongs, I miss Hogwarts. The hustle, the exams, the detentions." He smirked mischievously and continued, "The dungbombs, or the adventures with Moony. But now, everything has gotten so complicated..."
James, listening and empathizing with his friend, approached. "I know, Wormtail. Things got rough after Hogwarts, but we're standing strong, aren't we? I find solace in knowing I still have my friends, you, Lily, and my son, and that we're doing the right thing."
While they talked, Lily Potter entered the room, bringing the unmistakable apple pie, interrupting them to serve a generous slice. Finally, she greeted Pettigrew with a smile and expressed affection for James with a cheek kiss, though still restrained not to offend the visitor.
Peter showed no interest in the pie, just observing his friends with some envy. Not for feelings toward Lily or anything like that. He respected James enough not to desire his wife, but for another reason. James had everything, and he had nothing left, a mere trained dog of a bad owner.
"That's the problem, James. You still have them, but I have nothing left!" he said with a hushed, cold voice.
"Wormtail?" James looked at him alert, trying to understand his friend's situation. His instinct screamed that something was wrong, but he didn't know what.
Pettigrew said nothing, only reaching for the extra pocket in his sleeves where he kept his wand, while avoiding his friend's gaze. Then he stretched out his hand, and with swift wand movements, cast a "Expelliarmus" spell. The spell shot out in an intense red beam, hitting James and throwing him backward with a strong magical pulse. The impact left him breathless and with no time to respond; his wand flew out of his hand, but before it even hit the ground, it was summoned by Pettigrew with an "Accio" spell.
Lily, who was close to James, was also pushed, though with less force. Her experienced hand sought her wand, but it was too late, as another "Expelliarmus" spell hit her, sending her into the wall with the extra force of the spell on her small frame. The loud noise woke Harry, who was somewhere in the house, making him cry loudly, as if sensing a bad omen or simply bothered by the noise.
James, disarmed, looked at his friend with a betrayed look, not wanting to believe what was happening. He shouted with the last of the air in his lungs, "WORMTAIL... WHAT ARE YOU DOING?"
"I have no choice, James. What I did was for my family," Pettigrew said with a trembling voice. He walked, taking Lily's wand, and continued, "Though I don't like it, I can't do anything for myself. Voldemort reached my family, and with them, me. It was all me, James, it has always been me, the spy in the Order."
James looked at him still in fury. "BUT WHY, WE COULD HAVE DONE SOMETHING, DUMBLEDORE COULD HAVE HELPED, I WOULD HAVE HELPED YOU, HE IS MY FRIEND."
Meanwhile, Lily got up while crying. This angered James even more, who stood up with difficulty. Before he could truly stand firm on his feet, he received a quick spell in the chest, an intangible shockwave emanating from Pettigrew's wand threw him against the wall with even more force.
"No, they wouldn't have. You always in your perfect little world never truly paid attention to the people you stepped on or the injustice. You're a bully, James. Although I appreciate it, you treated me with camaraderie, but in reality, you only care about Sirius, or Lily when Moony or I are secondary to you!"
Peter remembered the Invisibility Cloak; leaving such an intriguing artifact behind wouldn't be good. "Accio, Invisibility Cloak." But when he cast it, nothing happened; it was as if the cloak wasn't there.
Lily voiced her plea loudly while crying. "Peter, what are you doing? Stop this! Why are you doing this?" Although he turned a deaf ear to her plea. There was only one thing left to do.
He raised his wand to them; he would end it right now by his master's orders. He cast a audible killing curse, "Avada Kedavra!" The room illuminated in a sinister green, and when it faded, he came to a realization.
He missed the spell. He couldn't kill the Potters. Magic responds and is guided by the innermost will . If deep down, he didn't want to kill them, its will not work, because a spell needs intention to work. By hesitating in intention, even if the execution of the spell was perfect, the focus failed. And so, he missed by a wide margin.
Then he looked at the Potters one last time. "It seems that, deep down, I consider you my true friends," he lowered his eyes, avoiding James, who was huddled in the corner, and finally said, "But I have no choice."
He cast a spell to disable any kind of portal key in the residence or even apparition, an active ward created by Voldemort himself.
Finally, he cast a bomb spell into the Potter family fireplace, destroying any familial warmth that should have remained there. He pressed his wand to the dark mark on his wrist, using magic to show his location to Voldemort. Soul magic was the only thing that could counter another soul magic, so the Fidelius charm is not perfect. Human flaw makes it surmountable.
Peter could no longer look at his friends and prepared to leave through the front door to wait for his master. The Potters couldn't go anywhere.
But, in a last glance, he could notice the destroyed environment. All the cozy warmth had given way to destruction and misery. It still hurt him, especially looking at James's broom, a Nimbus 66, which was lying at his feet in a lamentable state. A moment of regret passed through his eyes, but he regained his firmness. He had no choices, so he simply left.
Some time later, a black mist descended in front of Peter, taking the form of a man. He wore a thin cloak, though refined in appearance; his eyes had lost any humanity, only displaying a monstrous coldness. Upon arriving, he said to Pettigrew, "You did well, Peter. I will finish this."
"Yes, Lord Voldemort," he replied as he knelt before the Dark Lord.
(A/N: Canon has always been poorly explained, like there's no limitation for James and Lily to be the secret-keepers, so I'm going with an alternative version!
A small quiz, which wouldn't influence the plot, just curious about your opinion. Should Vincent interfere in the attack, or not?
1) Yes, he should.
2) No, he shouldn't.
I wish everyone an excellent New Year! May it be a time of joy, fulfillment, and special moments. Enjoy the holidays to rest, have fun, and be with your loved ones. May the next year bring health, happiness, and success to each of you. Happy 2024!
Hope you enjoy the chapter, sincerely, Artas!)