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Disclaimer: This story is based on characters, ideas, and situations created by JK Rowling and owned by her and her publishers. I own the original elements & characters. No money is being made by me, and no trademark or copyright infringement is intended.

Chapter XX
Monday, April 13, 1981

Peter woke up, terrified. He wasn't really sure why he was terrified, but he was. He also wasn't sure why he couldn't move or see, until he realized he was bound and gagged, naked and laying on a cold hard floor.

And then he remembered being attacked and stunned.

He wet himself.

"Ah," a cold voice said, "we're awake, I see." Peter whimpered. He had never heard that voice before, but there was no doubt in his mind who it was. It was You-know-who himself.

Peter soiled himself.



To his amazement, Peter was not tortured over the next twelve hours. Almost as bad for him, however, he heard several other people tortured slowly to death as he was moved from room to room in some sort of dungeon. All the while, Voldemort was whispering to Peter -- demanding that he imagine what it would be like when his turn came; asking him where his powerful friends were, why they hadn't saved him yet.

Other voices also whispered to him in those twelve long hours, telling him how wonderful the Dark Lord was, singing his praises while denigrating Dumbledore, his friends, and general wizarding culture. After the seventh hour, they also started to praise Peter as well.

Peter had no way of knowing they were time-turning him, and would continue to do so until he broke. No one would save him, because no one would ever know he was missing.

Voldemort had decided in December to wait until near Easter to capture Peter Pettigrew. He had talked to each of his Death Eaters who had known Pettigrew, especially Regulus Black, Rastaban Lestrange, and even Severus Snape. He had decided that Pettigrew needed to do more than tell him everything that he wanted to know.

Voldemort wanted to break Pettigrew, so that the young man would follow him. He needed a mole, and Pettigrew seemed like the best bet. Dumbledore had planted at least two low-level spies in his organization, and Voldemort had only recently discovered and killed them. It was time to turn the tables.



Five of the six Death Eaters picked to break Pettigrew relished the job, enjoyed torturing the Muggles to terrify the man and watching Pettigrew squirm. They glorified in pleasing their Master, competed with each other. The Lestrange brothers, Bellatrix Lestrange, Lucius Malfoy, and Barty Crouch Jr. saw this as sport as much as work.

Regulus Black, however, was losing his desire to serve. The reality of what was happening was shocking to him. It had ceased to be a game by the second hour. He started hanging back, and hoped no one would notice.

They all did, but since Voldemort said nothing, the other five could not.



At the start of the twelfth hour, Peter had the blindfold removed. He had been given no food and just enough water to keep him going. He was terrified, tired, and traumatized.

The sight of Voldemort would have made him soil himself, had he not already done so twice hours before.

"You now have two choices, Peter Pettigrew. Never think you have more than that. You may tell us everything we want to know, willingly or not, and then we shall kill you. Or you may join me." Voldemort then repeated the ideas they had been planting for hours. "You know I am going to win. Join me, and help me strike down the ones you have served, yes served! for over ten years. Serve me well, and you shall find power and rewards beyond what you have dared dream. Serve me poorly, well. . . ." Voldemort spun around. "Avada Kedavra!"

A body fell to the ground. Voldemort gestured, and Malfoy held up the body while Bellatrix pulled off the mask.

At first Peter thought it was Sirius. Then he noticed the differences. "Regulus!"

"He betrayed the trust I put in him," Voldemort said sadly. "If only he could have stayed loyal." He shook his head in sorrow, and then turned to Peter, who squeaked. "Your first impulse will be to tell me everything that will seem to you safe to tell me, and then swear to follow me. And then you shall betray me to those who claim to be your friends. If you do any of that, however, I will find and kill you. So, tell me everything and die like the animal you are, or tell me everything I want to know, and join me."

"You can't speak? Or you don't know where to start? Tell me first, then, something easy. Tell me when the Longbottom and Potter boy were born." The announcements had come out in early August, but had not mentioned a time or place.



Monday Afternoon

Had anyone been at the Marauder's council house when he returned, Peter might have confessed what had happened. But the house was quiet when he returned. There was just a note from James, asking Peter to pick up some more beer the next time he went out for groceries, that the other three were on a stake-out and that he and Sirius would be back Friday. Sunday night, of course, would be a full moon, so Remus would not likely be back before the following Tuesday.

They hadn't missed him at all. They hadn't known he was in trouble. How many times had James or Sirius known the other was in trouble? How many times had they run to help Remus when he needed it? Many more times than they had ever stopped to help him, Peter was sure. Peter had undergone twelve hours of mental torture, six more hours of intense questioning, and then had been branded with the Dark Mark. He had no idea that, in real time, less than three hours had passed. All Peter knew was he was tired, sick, injured, and terrified.

He collapsed on his bed. He didn't dare go to Dumbledore, or anyone else. If they didn't believe him, he was as good as dead anyway. He was on the other side now. He had to make certain his side won.



Friday, June 26, 1981

Lloyd hauled the empty bottles, tins, and boxes out to the large rubbish bin and dumped them in. He spent about three hours every day shopping for supplies and another two hours delivering them. He also had to dump most of the rubbish, to make certain Muggles didn't wonder why there was so much trash being generated by just a few people.

Lloyd went into his small place to wash his hands and eat lunch. He had one more delivery to make, to the sersiants.

Lloyd never saw a rat crawl out of the bin and make its way over to the back door, which was open a crack on the warm day. It crawled into a stack of boxes, which Lloyd would portkey to the sersiants later that day.



Thursday, July 2, 1981
1:23 am

Alastor Moody walked stiffly around the grounds of the destroyed farm house. There were a few aurors trying to clean up the many bodies. Three of the four injured had already been moved out. He approached the remaining person, who had given Moody a sign earlier, which Moody had answered with a signal of his own. The young man was associated with the Order somehow.

Moody sent to two aurors away and gave the young man the return sign. "My name's Moody. I take it this was one of the groups of North American volunteers?"

"Yes, sir. Sixteen . . . ex-sersiants who came over to help. I was the supply officer. They lived here and tried to stay out of sight of the local Muggles. I live elsewhere, and brought supplies in and took garbage out. They mostly did surveillance. One must have been followed back somehow."

"Probably. Does the Phoenix know your home location?" They did not mention Dumbledore's name in public.

"He's the only one who does," Lloyd answered. "I got a fire call about thirty minutes ago. The house was under attack. I put out the alarm and apparated here to try and help out." He looked up into the sky. "I hope he sent people to the other site. It had some of their wives and children."

"I was told that was being taken care of, but not about your location," Moody said. "Your friends took out nine permanently. Not a good return, considering they all were killed but three."

"My brother was killed," Lloyd said, still in shock.

"Sorry, lad."

"How much trouble are we in with the Ministry?"

"My boss doesn't like that your lot is here very much, since you're not under his direction, but Crouch's not going to bother you. You'll find that no one will say anything. As far as he's concerned, you don't exist and this never happened. I will need to debrief you, however."

"Really?"

"Well, there is a chance that an auror named Dawlish will try to bring you in. He's certainly anti-Voldemort, but he's allied to some elements in the Ministry that might give you a rough time."

"I can always escape him, if I have to."

"There are anti-apparation wards where he'd take you."

"That doesn't bother me."

"What? Oh . . . the Phoenix mentioned your talent. Go ahead, if you have to. Hopefully, you won't. The three survivors are in the Phoenix's care. Now, tell me everything from the moment you got the firecall."



It did not improve Lloyd's mood, already dark and depressed, to learn that the building he had been living in had been compromised -- someone had ransacked it. The other locations were abandoned within a week.



"I am sorry for your losses," Dumbledore told the young man late that afternoon.

"Thank you. I guess this means I should leave, doesn't it?"

"If you wish to accompany your brother. . . ."

"That's not what I mean. I've been compromised. I should have been the strongest link, not the weakest! I'm sure most of the rest think I'm a traitor, and the others that I'm an idiot!"

"You are neither. If you were, you would have sent the Death Eaters against the other three teams first. They are the more dangerous. Somehow, you were tracked. Did you have a fall back position?"

"Sir?"

"A bolt hole of some kind?"

"Yes, sir, a small flat in Oxford."

"Good. Let us go see it."

Despite what Dumbledore had said, he was still under some sort of suspicion. Still, Lloyd was soon cleared. He moved once again, and set up operations for the three groups further north, in and around Lancaster. He also helped move the bodies, the three survivors, and the wives and children back across the Atlantic.

His sister-in-law, niece, and nephew would never speak to him again.



The fight against Voldemort had been going against the Dark Lord since at least the previous November. Between Easter and the attack in July, things had moved back towards a stalemate. After the attack, however, the Death Eaters became more active and more successful.

July had seen a number of other successful attacks. August saw things escalate. It was clear that there was at least one informer in the Order.



Unknown to any in the Order or the Volunteers, there was also once again an informer in Voldemort's camp. Severus Snape had wrestled with his decision through early February. Having made his decision, however, he spent much of February through April collecting as much data as he could, and then he took the information to Dumbledore.

Snape had thought little of Voldemort's interest in Pettigrew since November, however. Voldemort had asked about all of the Marauders many times, especially about James Potter. The Snape of the mid-1990s would have picked up the clues. Snape at twenty-one wasn't as clever as he liked to think himself.

Snape had waited until the first Sunday before Easter to arrange his visit to Dumbledore. He wanted as few students about as possible.

Voldemort had, however, detected a decreasing interest and enthusiasm in Snape. His brilliance in potion brewing was all that was keeping him alive, although Snape never recognized that. He had been moved from near the inner circle to near the outside, with the other useful but slightly untrustworthy members. Slightly untrustworthy, but not to the point of killing. Yet.

In short, Voldemort's mole was more useful than Dumbledore's, not that Snape would ever admit that to himself.



Sunday, September 20, 1981

James looked confused. He looked repeatedly at Lily, Harry, and Dumbledore. "What?" he demanded.

"In short, it was prophesied in June that either Neville or Harry, more likely Harry, will be the one to destroy Voldemort."

"But . . . but they're babies!"

Dumbledore repressed a sigh. He had just gone through a similar discussion with the Longbottoms. "They are, and that is irrelevant. Prophecy can never be totally wrong. It is more relevant that somehow Voldemort has learned that the Prophecy exists, although he may not know the details. It is more relevant that Voldemort believes the Prophecy. And above all, it is more relevant that right now the forces allied against him are in retreat -- in fact, to be blunt, we are losing -- and that I have just received confirmation that Voldemort will soon be switching from general attacks to trying to locate Harry and Neville." Snape had finally been informed of the plans, since he would again be needed in the field.

"What do we do?" Lily asked.

"We need to locate a good hide-away. We shall stock it with enough food for months, and then I shall charm it with the Fidelius charm."

"What exactly is that?" Lily asked. She had heard of it, but didn't know the details.

Dumbledore explained the Charm.

"I have just the place," James said.

"Where?"

"It's a large cottage outside of Godric's Hollow. My paternal great-grandmother was the last person to actually live there, and she died about twenty years ago. When my grandparents' house was destroyed, I sent the house elf there to prepare it in case we ever needed a place to hide out."

"That sounds reasonable. I shall look at it personally. How long would it take to stock it with at least six months worth of food, firewood, and coal, if not a year?"

"Three or four weeks. Why so long?"

"I want you three to totally disappear."

"We will."



Tabitha stopped Dumbledore before he left. "The boys are in danger, aren't they?"

Dumbledore hesitated, but finally simply said, "Yes."

"Let us add to their protection."

That of course peaked Dumbledore's interest. "How?"



Tuesday, September 22, 1981

"I still don't like it," James grumbled.

"It can't hurt," Alice said.

"And anything that helps. . . ." Frank added with a shrug.

"Stop grumbling and be thankful," Lily said.

Tabitha, Henry, Tom, Tudor, Lloyd, and two of the other North American aurors who were Novices had joined in a circle around young Harry and Neville, who were placed in the center of an inner circle of natural objects. The other members of the group, Dumbledore, the Longbottoms and Potters, and James' friends formed an outer circle. As the equinox sun rose, they invoked every Power they were capable of bringing to bear. Each also swore to protect the two boys with their lives.

The British wizards and witches were shocked to see the tendrils of power form between the boys, and between the boys and the seven Old Believers.

Fifteen years later, even though they couldn't believe that Harry Potter was still at the center of Voldemort's plans, Tabitha, Henry, Lloyd, Tom, and especially Tudor (who had taken the lead in swearing to protect Harry -- Henry had taken the lead swearing to protect Neville) would return to protect the boys. The other two aurors had been killed, one in the last month of fighting Voldemort, the other several years later.

Wormtail hurried off to report this latest development to Voldemort that very afternoon. Only the fact that there had been no warning of the ceremony prevented Voldemort from punishing Pettigrew for reporting after the fact.

In the face of this new development, Voldemort felt he had to hold off on the attack on the boys he had planned for that Saturday night. It took him more than a week to decide that the protections probably wouldn't help very much if at all against the Killing Curse, although when he succeeded, it might stir the wrath of the Old Believers. They had never forgiven him the attack on their summer solstice ceremony in the early '70s, and were behind the presence of this small force of North Americans.

He decided that he had to risk it to get the boys. Potter would go first, and then Longbottom. If one of them really was the only threat to him, then it wouldn't matter if the Old Believers came in sooner or later.



Thursday, October 1, 1981

"I'll miss you," Lily told Tabitha and Tom.

"We'll miss the two of you," Tom said, shaking Harry's hand, which made the toddler giggle.

"You're a very happy baby, Harry," Tabitha said softly, tears forming in her eyes. "Try and stay happy. Here," she said to Lily, handing her a conch shell.

"What does this do?"

"Well, right now, if you hold it to your ear you can hear the ocean," Tom said. "We want you and Dumbledore to go over it, to show that there're no enchantments on it right now. We'll enchant it, and five others. We'll keep one, Lloyd will take one, Dumbledore will take one, and you can give the fifth one to one of James' friends. These will only work one way. If you or James call for help -- the phrase will be 'goddess, help us' -- we will be able to reach you despite the Fidelius. We cannot trace you unless it sends out an alarm, and will not work at all in the other direction."

"And, if any of the three of you are seriously injured, you have twenty minutes to prevent it from calling out a distress call. The phrase is, 'goddess, hold back,'" Tabitha instructed. "If . . . should anything worse happen, the alarm will go off automatically."

"Thank you."

"Do you remember all the rituals we've taught you?" Tabitha asked.

"Oh, yes," Lily said. "I hope I don't need any of them."

"We hope you won't, either," Tom acknowledged.



Saturday, October 31, 1981
11:20 pm

"Is somethin' wrong, Professor Dumbledore, sir?"

Dumbledore had been walking around the castle since the end of the Feast. He had been troubled all day. Although he knew his gift in divination was tiny, he did not think he was being paranoid. He looked up, surprised to see Hagrid.

"I cannot believe anything is wrong, however, I cannot shake the belief something is about to happen, or perhaps is even happening."

"Is there anythin' I can do, Professor?"

'Why not?' Dumbledore thought. "Do you have your, well, your umbrella with you?" He led Hagrid back to his office.

"Bit of a raw night, I thought, sir," Hagrid said, although both men knew the night was cold and clear.

"Good. Sugar Quill," he said, giving his current password. "I shall make a portkey for you. If everything is fine, you will appear what will look like an open field. If everything is fine, keep holding on to the portkey. If everything is not alright . . . access the situation. You will be able to tell, because there will be a small house . . . or its wreckage. If no Death Eaters are outside, drop the portkey instantly and look for survivors."

"Who might I be looking for?"

"Harry Potter."

"What, not James and Lily?"

"If you see anything other than an empty field, it is unlikely that there will any other survivors, from either side. The most we could hope for is young Harry. Now remember, the portkey will return two minutes after you arrive. Are you ready?"

"Yes, sir."

Hagrid disappeared. At the same moment, the conch shell the Potters had given him began to blow the alarm that signaled at least one of the Potters had been killed.

Dumbledore's face turned ashen, but he hurried to the fireplace to put out the alarm call. The North Americans would be there soon after Hagrid, but it would best if he could signal a general alert.