ᴘʏʀʀʜɪᴄ ᴠɪᴄᴛᴏʀʏ// ᴛʜᴇ ɢɪʀʟ ᴡʜᴏ ʟɪᴠᴇᴅ ᴀᴜ

NOVEMBER '79

Peter Pettigrew was someone to be overlooked, someone not to expect much from, a boy that was just.... there.

A Helpless boy.

Most people thought like that, not much of him, but Remus Lupin, James Potter and Sirius Black were amongst the exceptions who didn't.

They saw something in Peter or Wormtail as they once called him, he was shy yet knew how to get along, funny yet serious when needed, not exactly the smartest but he tried.

He was their friend and dare say family, someone they could count on, someone who wouldn't hurt anyone....

Oh, how wrong they were.

That helpless friendly façade was their bane, the rat indeed ended up being, well, a rat. He sold them out, he sold the order, he sold his family and himself.

That cold night of Halloween of 1981, the night when four best friends turned into three, the night that James Potter, Remus Lupin and Sirius Black felt like they were being slapped through the face, the night where they understood things had changed, he was no longer a friend.

He was the rat.

And then he got locked up and unfortunately, that was temporary.

Peter Pettigrew escaped Azkaban. He escaped the inescapable Prison, he broke away and they knew how but couldn't say anything.

Sirius Black and James Potter knew but they couldn't say anything unless they wanted to get themselves thrown into that same Prison.

So instead, they did everything they could to help at work on level two of the Ministry of Magic Headquarters.

The Aurors office was a mess since Pettigrew's escape and the two childhood friends were currently walking to the director's Rufus Scrimgeour office.

Sweating profoundly.

"Prongs, you think they.... Know?" Sirius asked, trying to hide his nervousness.

James shakes his head, feeling his insides giving unpleasant turns "No, I don't think they — they can't— If anything just deny deny deny."

"Right, of course, just deny."

They entered the office. A few windows behind a large big wooden desk, paintings that stared at them, it was tidy...

Rufus, an old man with streaks of grey in his mane of tawny hair and his bushy eyebrows, had keen yellowish eyes behind a pair of wire-rimmed spectacles was seated in his high chair, reading over a few parchments.

James and Sirius were waiting for him to finish, uncharacteristically quiet since normally the two best friends tend to be loud wherever they found themselves in.

The director didn't seem to notice them entering nor them standing in front of his desk until James cleared his throat. "Sir, you called us?"

The older man slowly looked up from his paper and nodded swiftly "Black, Potter. Sit down."

The two looked at each other before taking a seat. It felt like they were back in Hogwarts, although this time without Dumbledore's warm twinkling eyes or McGonagall's familiar scowl, this time there were real consequences, jail instead of detention. Both of their hearts beating painfully in their chests, they were nervous although neither of them let it show.

"It's no secret that Peter Pettigrew escaped Azkaban and we have been hunting him down since," said Rufus, calmly. "With unfortunate not much results"

James clears his throat "Someone's bound to recognize him, we put his face everywhere."