Severus Snape wasn't having the best day. Actually, scratch that—his life was basically a series of bad decisions wrapped in a greasy cloak. And now, standing in front of the stone gargoyle that guarded Albus Dumbledore's office, he was about to make another one.
"Lemon drop," Snape muttered under his breath, because of course that was the password. Dumbledore had the taste of a deranged grandparent. The gargoyle moved aside, revealing the spiraling staircase, and Snape stepped on, mentally preparing himself for what was about to happen.
The moment he entered the office, the Headmaster looked up from whatever ancient nonsense he was studying, his blue eyes twinkling as though he already knew why Snape was there.
"Severus," Dumbledore said, all serene and annoyingly calm. "What brings you here at this hour?"
Snape clenched his fists. There wasn't time for small talk. There wasn't time for anything except the one thing that had been burning in his mind since he'd overheard that conversation at the Hog's Head.
"I need your help," Snape said, the words tasting like ash on his tongue. He'd never begged anyone for help, least of all Dumbledore. But desperate times and all that.
Dumbledore didn't even blink. "Go on."
Snape took a deep breath, resisting the urge to throw something just to feel better. "Lily," he said, his voice cracking. "She's in danger. The Dark Lord—he's going after her because of some ridiculous prophecy. You have to protect her."
Dumbledore leaned back in his chair, his fingers steepled under his chin like he was thinking about the weather. "And her family?"
Snape flinched. Of course Dumbledore would ask that. The Potter family. It wasn't enough to save Lily—oh no, they had to save James Potter and the boy, too. Because life wasn't already unfair enough.
But if this was the price to pay to save her, so be it.
"Yes," Snape spat. "Her family too. Just—please. You have to save her."
Dumbledore's eyes softened, but his face remained unreadable. "You realize what you're asking, Severus?"
Oh, Snape realized. He realized he was signing his soul over to the one man who could manipulate anyone into doing what he wanted. But he didn't care, not this time.
"I'll do anything," Snape said, and yeah, that didn't sound desperate at all. "Just save her."
Dumbledore was quiet for a long moment, then nodded slowly. "Very well, Severus. But you must understand—if I am to protect Lily and her family, you must be prepared to make sacrifices. This will not be easy."
Snape straightened, his greasy hair falling into his face as he tried to stand tall, tried to hide the fact that he felt like a house of cards about to collapse. "I'll do it," he said. "Whatever it takes."
Dumbledore's gaze sharpened. "You will have to become my spy, Severus. You will have to work against Voldemort, and that will be dangerous."
Dangerous? Snape had been playing with fire for years. "I know the risks," he said. "But I will do it. For her."
Dumbledore stood, his expression grave but somehow... understanding? "Then it is done," he said softly. "But remember, Severus, the path ahead will be filled with trials. You may not always like the choices you will have to make."
Snape scoffed, though it lacked his usual venom. He hadn't liked a single choice he'd made in years. What was one more?
Without another word, Snape turned on his heel and left the office, his robes billowing dramatically behind him like they always did. Because if there was one thing he could still control, it was his flair for theatrics.
As he descended the staircase, one thought echoed in his mind, louder than all the others: This better be worth it.
—
Back in Godric's Hollow, James Potter was doing what James Potter did best when he was nervous: pacing. If you'd walked in on the scene without context, you'd have thought he was training for a marathon. His wand twirled in his hand like a baton as he threw glances over at Lily and Harry every few seconds, like they might disappear if he stopped looking.
Lily, holding baby Harry, was remarkably calm for someone about to hide her entire family from the most dangerous dark wizard in, well, forever. But then again, she had that whole "goddess" thing going for her, which probably helped.
James stopped mid-pace to face her, his glasses askew in that classic Potter way. "You ready for this, Lil?"
Lily raised an eyebrow, shifting Harry in her arms as he gurgled happily and tried to eat the edge of his blanket. "James, no one is ever ready to hide from a homicidal maniac. But yes, I'm as ready as I'll ever be."
There was a knock at the door, followed by the unmistakable voice of Sirius Black: "Oi, Prongs! Let me in, unless you want me to blow your door off the hinges."
James grinned, pulling open the door. "Relax, Pads. This isn't the Shrieking Shack. You're not twelve anymore."
Sirius walked in, shaking his hair out like he was in some kind of shampoo commercial. His swagger could be felt from a mile away, but there was tension in his shoulders, too. He clapped James on the back, a little too hard. "Yeah, yeah, make fun all you want. But I'm your decoy. If we mess this up, Voldemort's going to be after my good looks, and I'd rather not."
Lily rolled her eyes, though it was impossible not to smile. "Oh no, anything but that. Imagine the world without Sirius Black's good looks."
"Tragic, isn't it?" Sirius quipped, but the joke didn't quite reach his eyes. He hated the idea of hiding just as much as James did, but this was the best plan they had.
And then came Peter Pettigrew, stumbling into the room like he'd gotten lost on his way to the front door. Peter always looked like someone had just surprised him with a pop quiz. His watery eyes darted around nervously as if he was expecting Voldemort to pop out from behind the curtains at any moment.
"R-ready when you are," Peter stuttered, fidgeting with the sleeve of his robe.
James gave him a thumbs-up like they were about to play Quidditch, not, you know, cast the most important spell of their lives. "That's the spirit, Wormtail."
Now, if this were a normal day, maybe someone would've picked up on Peter's extra-nervous behavior. But when you're about to cast the Fidelius Charm, a spell that could be the difference between life and death, well, you tend to focus on the big stuff.
And so, they got to work. The four of them—James, Lily, Sirius, and Peter—stood in a circle in the center of the room, wands raised. James glanced at Lily, and she nodded, her expression serious for the first time in hours. Together, they spoke the incantation, their voices steady, as the magic swirled around them like an invisible tornado.
As the spell settled over their home, James let out a breath he didn't even know he'd been holding. "Well, that's that. We're officially invisible." He grinned like a kid who'd just won a game of Wizard's Chess.
Sirius tried to smile, too, but his fingers twitched at his side. "Yeah... invisible. For now."
Lily looked between them, bouncing Harry gently as the baby yawned, blissfully unaware of how dangerous his world had become. "We've done everything we can. Now we just wait."
What they didn't know—what none of them could possibly know—was that Peter was already planning his betrayal. For more than a year, he'd been secretly passing information to Voldemort, all while pretending to be the bumbling, loyal friend. And now? He was the one person who could break the Fidelius Charm. The one person who could destroy everything.
But no one suspected a thing. After all, who would ever believe that Wormtail, the least impressive of the Marauders, could be a traitor?
Yeah, they were about to find out.
—
Sirius Black paced the living room of the Potter house like a man on a mission. It wasn't just any kid he was babysitting—no, that would've been too simple. He was keeping an eye on Harry Potter, who, on top of being the son of James and Lily (a.k.a. Loki and Artemis, because why not add a little divine drama?), also happened to be a Metamorphmagus. You know, a baby who could change his appearance at will, even though he was only one.
To top it off, Sirius was pretty sure Harry was having a blast messing with him.
"Come on, kiddo, you had green hair five minutes ago, and now it's purple? Pick a color and stick with it!" Sirius threw his hands up in mock frustration. Harry giggled from his crib, his hair shifting to a bright shade of orange as if to say, "Challenge accepted."
"You're going to give him a complex," James called from the couch, looking like he had absolutely zero concerns in the world, because of course, he didn't. Not when your kid is part-god and part-prankster. "Let him have fun, Pads. It's not like he's turning into a dragon or anything... yet."
Sirius paused, his eyes narrowing at Harry. "Wait. He can't actually turn into a dragon, right?"
"Not unless he feels like it." James grinned, leaning back casually. "Honestly, it's not even the weirdest thing he's done. You should've seen him last night. Looked just like me, glasses and all."
"Merlin's beard, Prongs, this kid is gonna be the end of me." Sirius shook his head, but the corners of his mouth twitched up. Despite the chaos, he wouldn't trade this for anything. Not when it came to Harry.
Before Sirius could even think about more baby-related disasters, the air shimmered, and a silver lynx appeared in the room. It was Kingsley Shacklebolt's Patronus, and that could only mean one thing: trouble.
"McKinnon Manor is under attack. Death Eaters. We need backup. Now."
The lighthearted atmosphere vanished. Sirius's heart plummeted, his mind instantly jumping to Marlene McKinnon. His Marlene. She could be in danger. No, scratch that—she was in danger.
"Pads, we have to go," James said, already on his feet, his face serious for the first time that evening.
Sirius barely heard him. His mind was filled with images of Marlene, surrounded by Death Eaters, fighting for her life. His wand was in his hand before he even realized it.
Lily appeared in the doorway, her eyes wide. "What's going on?"
"McKinnon Manor's under attack," Sirius said, his voice tight. "We're going."
Lily's gaze flicked between them, then landed on Harry, who was now watching the adults with wide, curious eyes. His hair had shifted to a concerned shade of brown, matching the tension in the room.
"I'll stay here with Harry," Lily said, her voice firm. "Just—be careful, alright?"
Sirius hesitated for a split second, his protective instincts kicking in. Lily was Artemis, for Merlin's sake, but still—this was Harry, the kid who could change his appearance on a whim, and who might just start morphing into something worse if he felt the danger. And it didn't help that Sirius already had a tendency to worry about everything when it came to his godson.
"Don't let him change into anything with claws, alright?" he managed to joke, though his heart wasn't in it.
Lily's lips quirked into a small smile. "We'll be fine, Sirius. Go."
James was already grabbing Sirius's arm, pulling him toward the door. "Come on, mate. We've got Death Eaters to deal with."
With a sharp crack, they Disapparated, leaving Lily standing in the now-quiet room. She glanced down at Harry, who promptly grinned and turned his hair bright pink.
"Honestly, kiddo," Lily sighed, picking him up, "your dad and Sirius might not survive you at this rate."
---
Sirius and James Apparated just outside McKinnon Manor, where chaos had taken over. The night was lit with the flashes of spells, and the screams of battle echoed through the grounds. Death Eaters were everywhere, and the air was thick with dark magic.
But Sirius didn't see any of that. His focus was razor-sharp, and it was all on Marlene. Somewhere in that mess, she was fighting, and he had to get to her.
"Pads, focus!" James yelled, grabbing his shoulder. "We've got to do this smart."
Sirius shook his head, his vision narrowing. "Marlene's in there. I'm not waiting."
And with that, he bolted forward, charging into the fray without a second thought. Because if there was one thing Sirius Black knew how to do, it was to protect the people he loved.
—
James burst through the door of McKinnon Manor, adrenaline coursing through him like a double shot of espresso on a Monday morning. He spotted Sirius, his best friend and godfather extraordinaire, fighting like a tornado of chaos, throwing spells around like they were confetti at a surprise party gone awry.
"Pads!" James called, trying to make himself heard over the cacophony of hexes and the occasional crash of furniture meeting magic. "Need a hand?"
Sirius glanced back, his expression a mix of sheer determination and surprise, as if he hadn't expected James to join this swirling mess of danger. "What do you think? I'm starting to feel like a one-man army here!"
"Guess you didn't need my help until now," James quipped, summoning memories from his past life as Loki, the God of Mischief. The thrill of the fight ignited something deep within him, a rush of power and cunning that made his heart race, even if his mortal body felt slightly constrained by its limitations. "Let's show these Death Eaters what we're made of!"
With a flick of his wrist, he conjured a blast of magic that shot toward a group of Death Eaters, sending them tumbling backward like dominoes in an epic prank. It felt exhilarating to tap into the remnants of godly magic flowing through him, like finally finding the right song on a playlist after hours of scrolling. He could practically hear the dramatic battle music in his head—cue the epic orchestral score!
"Nice move, Prongs!" Sirius yelled, dodging a curse and retaliating with a particularly nasty Stunning Spell. "Keep it coming!"
Together, they danced through the chaos, dodging curses and taking down enemies like characters in a video game on the last boss level. James could feel the magic thrumming through him, enhancing his agility and focus as he wove in and out of the fray, employing Loki's clever tactics while still working within the limits of his mortal body.
Then, they stumbled upon a particularly chaotic scene where Alastor Moody and a couple of fresh-faced Aurors, Kingsley Shacklebolt and Amelia Bones, were huddled behind a makeshift barricade. The McKinnon family was trapped nearby, panic etched on their faces as they tried to find a way out.
"Moody!" Sirius shouted, gritting his teeth as he blasted a curse back at the attackers. "What's the plan?"
Moody's magical eye spun in every direction like a hyperactive hamster on a wheel. "We're pinned down! Anti-Apparition wards are up, and the floo is blocked!"
James's heart sank. They needed to get everyone out of there. He could see Marlene, her face pale with fear, clutching her younger brother Thomas close. It was time to act.
"Step aside!" James called, channeling the magic and memories of Loki while grappling with the limitations of his current form. His fingers tingled with energy as he focused, picturing the floor below him shifting. "I'll make a way through!"
He stepped forward, raising his wand with determination. "Just like old times," he muttered, as he unleashed a spell that shimmered in the air, blasting a gap in the floor. The portal flickered into existence, a swirling gateway that glowed with magic and possibility.
"Go! Now!" he yelled, his voice echoing with urgency.
Sirius pulled Marlene to her feet, urgency in his tone. "This way! We're not leaving anyone behind!"
"Right behind you!" Kingsley shouted, ushering the McKinnons toward the portal.
As they all scrambled toward safety, James felt a rush of triumph. They were going to make it. They were—
"Hold them off!" Moody barked, launching a spell at the advancing Death Eaters. "We need a few more seconds!"
"Just a little longer!" James urged, sweat beading on his forehead. He focused on the spell, pouring everything he had into it despite the fatigue of his mortal body.
Finally, with a mighty effort, he expanded the portal wide enough for everyone to leap through. One by one, they dove into the swirling abyss just as the Death Eaters broke through the Aurors' line of defense.
"Let's go!" Sirius shouted, diving through the portal and pulling James in right behind him.
They landed in a heap on the grass outside, gasping for breath as the chaos of the manor faded into the background.
"Did we make it?" James asked, glancing around at the others.
"Yeah, for now," Sirius replied, brushing himself off with a grin that was half relief and half exhilaration. "But that was just round one, Prongs. We're not out of the woods yet."
James looked around at the people who had fought alongside him—friends, family, comrades. Whatever came next, they would face it together. Because that's what heroes did, and he wouldn't have it any other way.
—
As they landed with a thud in the Tonks' living room, James felt that familiar tug in his gut that came with Apparition, like being yanked through a giant cosmic straw. He quickly scanned the room, taking in the vibrant chaos. Colorful decorations adorned the walls, and the air was thick with a mix of antiseptic and herbs. The Tonks family was a whirlwind of energy, and in that moment, it felt almost comforting, a stark contrast to the chaos they had just escaped.
"Alright, Potter," Mad-Eye Moody growled, his magical eye rotating like a disco ball gone rogue. "What was that last spell? The portal?"
James gulped, suddenly feeling like he was standing in front of a crowd during a pop quiz he hadn't studied for. "Oh, that? Just an obscure spell I dug up in the Potter family library," he said with a casual shrug. "You know, the usual dusty tomes and questionable advice from long-dead wizards."
Sirius stepped forward, flashing his signature mischievous grin that could charm the socks off a troll. "Yeah, his reading list is fascinating. You should see the section on necromancy. One more grim spell away from starting his own cult."
"Cult?" Moody's brow furrowed, his eye narrowing suspiciously. "Just be careful with those obscure spells. They tend to bite back."
"Trust me, I'm not looking to summon anything scarier than a quiet night at home with a cup of tea," James replied, his smile a tad too wide. Inside, though, he felt the weight of the truth—the memories of his past life as Loki, the God of Magic, swirling like a tornado in his mind. If only they knew just how obscure his "spells" could get.
They stepped further into the Tonks' bustling home, where the McKinnon family was huddled together, looking shaken but resolute. Ted and Andromeda were already tending to them, a whirlwind of healer magic and family love.
"Right," James said, clapping his hands together as he took a deep breath, shoving his swirling thoughts to the back of his mind. "Let's get the McKinnons settled, and then we can brainstorm our next brilliant move." He glanced at Sirius, who was still on high alert, ever the protective godfather.
With a shared nod, they jumped into action, ready to face whatever crazy twists lay ahead. After all, they were in this together—friends, family, and a sprinkle of godly chaos included.
—
James stumbled into Godric's Hollow well after midnight, feeling like a wizard who'd just fought a dragon and lost his wand in the process. His muscles were sore, and his head was swirling with memories of dodging curses and answering Moody's questions like he was trying to pass an exam on "How Not to Be a Target for Death Eaters."
But the moment he opened the door, the comforting sound of Lily's voice wafted through the air, halting him in his tracks. It was a soft melody, something soothing and ancient that wrapped around him like a warm blanket.
What was she singing? A lullaby? His first thought was of a bedtime song, but this was different. No, this was a Greek lullaby—one that Leto, the mother of Artemis and Apollo, probably used to sing to her children. Of course it was. Because why wouldn't his wife, who was basically the reincarnation of a goddess, be serenading their baby with tunes that had more magic in them than a potions class gone wrong?
With a grin spreading across his face, James stepped quietly into the nursery. There was Lily, cradling Harry in her arms, her hair glowing in the dim light like a firefly convention. Harry, their little miracle of chaos, was wide-eyed and entranced, reaching up with tiny hands as if he could grab the very notes floating in the air.
James leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, soaking in the scene. It was one of those moments that made him feel like he was living in a particularly charming myth, complete with a goddess, a hero, and their divine baby.
Lily glanced up, catching him in her gaze as she sang the last note, her voice fading into a serene hush. "You're back," she said, her eyes sparkling.
"Of course. Just finished my part in the grand battle of the Potters vs. the Death Eaters. Spoiler alert: we won," James replied, stepping into the room and hovering over them.
Lily smiled at Harry, who had apparently decided to test his lung capacity with a yawn that could have rivaled a dragon's. "He likes it. I think."
"Of course he does," James said, bending down to ruffle Harry's hair. "How could he not? He's destined to be a god, after all."
"Or he just likes the sound of my voice," Lily retorted playfully, settling Harry back into his crib.
"Definitely the god thing," James said, crossing his arms with mock seriousness. "What's next, training him to shoot arrows while he's still in diapers?"
"Oh, that's all part of Phase Two," Lily shot back, her smile brightening the room. "First, we get him to sleep through the night. Then, archery lessons."
James chuckled, feeling that familiar warmth wash over him. "Normal babies don't have lullabies sung to them by literal goddesses, you know."
"Normal babies don't have literal gods for parents," she teased, glancing over at their peacefully sleeping son. "He's already a little hero."
"Yeah, a hero who will probably drive me to gray hair before I hit thirty," James mused, shaking his head at the thought of the adventures that lay ahead for their son.
Lily turned to him, her expression softening. "But he's perfect, isn't he?"
"Absolutely," James replied, pulling her close. "And together, we'll make sure he knows just how perfect he is."
They stood there in their little haven, the three of them wrapped in warmth, love, and a destiny that was still unfolding. No matter the challenges that lay ahead, this was their family—an unconventional trio of gods and mortals ready to face whatever magic the world had in store.
—
Peter Pettigrew scurried through the shadows of Knockturn Alley like a rat—appropriate, given his Animagus form. His heart raced, pounding louder than the sound of his hurried footsteps against the cobblestones. The alleys were narrow, twisted, and smelled like old socks and dark magic, but it was the perfect place for someone who didn't want to be noticed.
He reached a dimly lit corner, where Corban Yaxley was waiting, looming like a human brick wall. Yaxley was a mountain of a man, with the kind of face that could make a Dementor flinch. His robes were black, his expression stony, and his arms were crossed in a way that said, I don't have time for this, so make it good.
Peter swallowed, trying to find his voice. "I—I need to speak with the Dark Lord."
Yaxley raised an eyebrow. "Do you now?"
Pettigrew nodded quickly, his beady eyes darting around the alley, looking for anything—anyone—who might overhear. "I have information," he whispered, voice trembling. "Important information."
Yaxley's lips twisted into something that could have been a smile, though it looked more like a sneer. "Important, you say? Last time you claimed to have important information, it was nothing more than the Potters' grocery list. Hardly worthy of the Dark Lord's attention."
Pettigrew's breath hitched. "This is different," he insisted, voice cracking slightly. "I—I'm the Secret Keeper for the Potters."
Yaxley's eyes flashed, and for a moment, Peter thought the man might crush him with a flick of his wrist. Instead, Yaxley leaned in, his voice low and dangerous. "You? The Secret Keeper?"
Pettigrew straightened, trying to muster whatever scraps of courage he had left. "Yes. Everyone thinks it's Sirius Black, but it's me. I can give the Dark Lord exactly what he wants." His voice dropped to a whisper. "I can lead him straight to the Potters."
Yaxley stared at him for a moment, sizing him up, as if trying to decide if Pettigrew was serious or just some rodent playing a dangerous game. Then, without warning, Yaxley laughed. It wasn't a pleasant sound; it was cold, like a knife scraping across stone.
"Well, well," Yaxley said, his voice oozing with satisfaction. "It seems our little rat has some use after all." He placed a hand on Peter's shoulder, and Pettigrew had to fight every instinct to not flinch. "I'll take you to the Dark Lord."
Pettigrew let out a shaky breath, half-relieved, half-terrified. "Good. Good."
Yaxley's grip tightened. "But if this is a trick, Wormtail—if you're wasting the Dark Lord's time—well, you won't live long enough to regret it."
Peter gave a shaky nod, his heart pounding in his ears. "No tricks. I swear. I just want to help."
The truth was, Peter wasn't sure what he wanted. To survive? To stay on the winning side? He wasn't noble like James, wasn't brave like Sirius. He was just Peter—always hiding behind his more impressive friends, always living in the shadow of giants. But this was his chance to change that. To finally be someone important. Even if it meant betraying the people who had trusted him the most.
Yaxley grunted, then jerked his head. "Follow me."
As they walked deeper into the alley, Peter's mind raced. He was in too deep now. There was no turning back. Soon, he would face the Dark Lord himself, and then—well, then it would all be out of his hands. He just had to hope that betraying his friends was worth the price.
Because once this was over, there would be no going back.
—
Peter Pettigrew stood trembling in the grand hall of Malfoy Manor. The place was everything he'd expected—dark, cold, and unnervingly pristine. Ornate chandeliers hung from the ceiling, casting an eerie glow over the black marble floors. The walls, lined with portraits of sneering ancestors, seemed to watch his every move, as though waiting for him to screw up.
And screw up, he probably would.
Before him, sitting in an elaborate, throne-like chair, was Lord Voldemort. He wasn't exactly human anymore, which was part of the problem. The red eyes, the pale, snake-like face—Voldemort didn't just look like someone who had never heard of moisturizer; he looked like someone who had ditched humanity altogether in favor of something much darker. And a lot scarier.
Peter's knees almost buckled, but he forced himself to stay upright. This was it. He was in the belly of the beast.
Voldemort's voice cut through the room like a blade. "Wormtail."
That was it. No hello, no how are you, just Wormtail. Like Peter was a piece of dirt stuck to his shoe.
Peter gulped, his palms slick with sweat. "M-My Lord," he stammered, bowing low, feeling like a mouse caught in the gaze of a particularly venomous snake. "I... I've brought news. Important news."
Voldemort's expression didn't change. The room was so quiet that Peter could hear the faint crackle of the fire in the distant hearth. "You have been useful in the past, Wormtail," Voldemort said slowly, each word drawn out like he was speaking to a particularly slow child. "But I grow tired of your... skittering. If you have nothing of value to share, I will be most disappointed."
Peter's mouth was so dry it felt like he'd swallowed sandpaper. "I—I am the Secret Keeper, My Lord."
Voldemort's red eyes sharpened, locking onto Peter with terrifying intensity. The Dark Lord didn't speak, but the silence was far worse. Peter had the distinct impression that he was teetering on the edge of something very, very dangerous.
"I—I mean," Peter continued, voice wavering, "everyone thinks Sirius Black is the Potters' Secret Keeper, but—but they switched. It's me. I'm the one who can tell you where they are." His voice cracked at the end, but he managed to choke out the words.
For a moment, Voldemort said nothing. The air around Peter seemed to thicken, like all the oxygen had been sucked out of the room. Then, very slowly, Voldemort smiled.
It was not a comforting sight.
"So," Voldemort said, his voice like velvet over steel, "you are offering me the Potters? Your friends?"
Peter nodded frantically, even though the word "friends" made his stomach twist with guilt. "Y-Yes, My Lord. I can give you their location. They trust me."
The Dark Lord's gaze remained cold and unblinking. "And why should I trust you, Wormtail? What loyalty does a rat know but fear?"
Peter swallowed hard. "B-Because I know the Potters, My Lord. I've been with them for years. I can deliver them to you." He was desperate now, scrambling for words, trying to prove his worth. "I—I just want to be on the right side. I want to help you win."
Voldemort studied him for a long moment, and Peter had the distinct feeling that the Dark Lord could see right through him—his fear, his cowardice, his desperation. It was like being laid bare in front of a predator.
"Very well," Voldemort said at last, leaning back in his chair. "If you deliver the Potters to me, Wormtail, you will be rewarded."
Peter almost sagged in relief, but before he could blink, Voldemort's voice hardened. "But if you fail—if you betray me—there will be nowhere for you to hide. I will find you, and you will wish you had never been born."
Peter nodded so vigorously he thought his head might fall off. "I—I won't fail you, My Lord. I swear it."
Voldemort's smile widened, though it was more a baring of teeth than anything resembling warmth. "Good. Then we are in agreement."
Peter bowed again, lower this time, his heart hammering in his chest. He had done it. He had secured his place. Now, all he had to do was lead Voldemort to James, Lily, and Harry.
And hope that the reward Voldemort promised was worth the price of betrayal.
—
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