Chapter 82: The Marauder’s Tale
Disclaimer:
Harry Potter and all of its characters belong to J.K. Rowling.
I own nothing but the original characters I make.
"Dialogue"
'Thoughts'
-Author notes-
Chapter 82: The Marauder's Tale
Harry stared at the small, nervous man before him.
Peter Pettigrew was not someone he had expected to ever meet in person.
In the original story, he had been the traitor, the coward who had betrayed Harry Potter's parents to Voldemort. But here, in this twisted world...he must be a very different person, someone who made different decisions in his life.
His watery eyes held no cruelty, only anxiety and a deep, lingering guilt. His hands trembled slightly as he fidgeted with the edge of his robes.
"Peter Pettigrew," Harry repeated, the name feeling strange on his tongue. "So...you were my father's friend." He could not reveal the fact that he already knew that. Or at least suspected it.
'Did the Marauders exist in this world?' Harry wondered if they had been close friends with Sirius and Remus as well.
Peter nodded, his eyes glistening. "I was, Harry. James and I were friends for years. We were at Hogwarts together. We were... we were like brothers, once. A long time ago."
Harry felt a knot tighten in his chest. He had so many questions... questions that had been burning inside him since the moment he learned the truth about his parents.
"Can we talk?" Harry asked while glancing around. "Privately?"
around the room.
Peter glanced at Tom, who nodded. "Take the study. We will continue the discussion here."
Harry sat in a worn armchair, while Peter perched nervously on the edge of a wooden stool. The candlelight flickered, as if it were as nervous as the man in front of him.
Harry took a deep breath. "I just want to know about my parents, Mister Petigrew. About what really..." He paused. "I wish to know who they really were. I have only read what the books say about them." Mostly his father.
Peter's face crumpled with old grief. "I knew this day would come. I knew one day I might meet you and you would want answers." He shook his head slowly. "Where do I begin?"
"From the beginning," Harry said. "Tell me about my father. About how he became... what he became. How was he while in school?"
Peter was silent for a long moment. When he spoke, his voice was heavy with regret. "I can imagine the things you have read, but James was not always the man you have heard about. When we first met at Hogwarts, he was arrogant, yes, and reckless. But he was also kind. He had a good heart, Harry. He would have done anything for his friends."
Harry frowned. "Then what happened? How did he end up working for Dumbledore?"
Peter's eyes darkened. "It started slowly. Dumbledore took an interest in James during our fifth year. He saw potential in him...raw power, ambition, a desire to prove himself. He began to groom him, to fill his head with ideas about the greater good, about the need for order and control."
"And my father believed him?"
"At first, yes. James trusted Dumbledore. He saw him as a mentor, a father figure." Peter's voice cracked. "But the more James got involved with Dumbledore's work, the more he changed. He became colder, harder. He started to believe that the ends justified the means...that killing Muggle-borns was necessary to maintain the world's order."
Harry felt sick. "He killed a lot of people. Enough to be called..."
"Yes," Peter admitted, his voice barely a whisper. "Many people. He was ruthless, Harry. He hunted down anyone who opposed Dumbledore's regime. They called him the Grim Reaper because he was so efficient. So merciless."
Harry's hands clenched into fists. "Why? Why did he do it?"
"Because he was afraid of what would happen if he didn't," Peter said. "Dumbledore had shown him visions of what would happen if the war was lost...chaos, destruction, the collapse of the magical world. James believed that he was saving lives by taking them. He believed he was protecting the future."
"Visions?..." Harry shook his head. He had no doubt those were merely inventions of the Headmaster. "And he believes everything Dumbledore said?"
"The old Headmaster can be very persuasive when he wants something; I believe you know this as well," Peter said.
Harry could not deny this. If his mind was weaker, he would also have ended up on his side.
"So you are saying that my father was simply deceived into joining his side?"
"Well..." Peter looked troubled. "He was manipulated, yes. But...your father always had some hint of cruelty hidden beneath the surface. I would sometimes see it when James did his 'pranks' on the Slytherin students. He would smile in a way that made me uncomfortable while tormenting those poor students. Whatever Dumbledore did to James, it simply exacerbated what was already there."
Harry was silent for a moment, processing the information. Then he asked, "What about my mother? What was she like?"
Peter's expression softened. "Lily was... complicated. She was brilliant, Harry. One of the brightest witches I have ever known. She had a sharp mind. But she was also incredibly ambitious. She wanted power, recognition, a place in the world. You see...even back then, Muggle-borns were treated as second-class citizens in our world. Lily wanted to rise above that and...she found a way to do that, thanks to James."
"She married him to rise above her station?. Is that what you are saying?" Harry asked.
Peter looked down. "I'm sorry, Harry. I know you wanted me to tell you that deep down, your parents were great individuals who just made the wrong choices. I have made plenty of bad choices myself, many things I regret doing, but..."
"Okay...I think I understand now." Harry said. "She was not like my aunt Petunia."
Peter blinked. "Petunia? No. Petunia was different. She rejected magic entirely. She wanted nothing to do with our world. Lily... Lily embraced it fully. Too fully, perhaps."
"Did they ever reconcile?" Harry asked. "My mother and my aunt?"
Peter shook his head sadly. "No. I don't think they ever spoke again after Lily left for Hogwarts. I only met her a couple of times, but Petunia was afraid of your mother, and Lily didn't seem to care about her Muggle family. From the moment she found out about the existence of magic, Lily had only wanted to thrive in the magical world. No longer caring about what she left behind."
Harry nodded slowly, absorbing the information. Then he asked, "What about the others? Sirius Black and Remus Lupin? Were they friends with my father?"
Peter's expression flickered...something dark passing through his eyes. "Sirius and James were inseparable. They were like brothers. But Sirius became even more loyal to Dumbledore than James did. He believed in the cause with a fanatical devotion. He was the one who convinced James to join the Inner Circle. If you talk to Bellatrix, she can probably tell you much more about Sirius' motivations. The man had basically turned against his entire family. "
"And Remus?"
Peter sighed. "Remus was different. He was always more cautious, more hesitant. He followed James and Sirius because they were his friends, but he never fully embraced Dumbledore's ideology. He saw the darkness in what they were doing, but he was too afraid to speak out."
Harry leaned forward. "Why did you leave? Why didn't you stay with them?"
Peter's eyes filled with tears. "Because I saw what was happening. I saw the path they were walking, and I knew it would lead to destruction. I tried to warn James, but he wouldn't listen. He was too far gone by then."
"And you joined the Knights instead?"
"I had to," Peter said. "I had to do something to make up for the things I had let happen. I had to fight back against Dumbledore, to try and undo the damage I had helped cause."
Harry studied him for a long moment. He saw the guilt, the grief, the determination. Peter Pettigrew was not the traitor of the original story. He was a man trying to atone for his failures.
"Thank you," Harry said quietly. "For telling me the truth."
Peter nodded, wiping his eyes. "You deserved to know, Harry."
Harry felt a strange sense of closure. He would never fully forgive his father for the things he had done, but he understood him a little better now. And that was something.
"Right...what about Snape?. You were in the same year, right?" Harry asked. "What was he like at school?"
Peter's expression soured. "Severus Snape was always a strange one. He was brilliant, but bitter. He had a difficult childhood, and it made him cold and distant. He and James hated each other from the moment they met."
"Why?"
"Because of Lily," Peter said simply. "Snape was in love with her. He had been since they were children. But Lily chose James, and Snape never forgave either of them."
Harry remembered the Snape he had met at Hogwarts...the warm, kind professor who had offered him help and guidance. But there was a darkness beneath that mask of kindness.
"So Snape loved my mother?"
"He did," Peter said. "And I think he still does, in his own twisted way. But his love was possessive, jealous. It consumed him."
Harry nodded slowly. It was a lot to process.
The conversation continued for another hour. Peter told Harry about the Marauders, about their adventures at Hogwarts, about the pranks they had pulled and the bonds they had formed. He spoke of Sirius with fondness, despite everything, and of Remus with sadness.
"They were the best of friends, at least I thought they were back then," Peter said. "Before everything went wrong."
Harry listened, soaking in every detail. These were the pieces of his parents' lives that had been hidden from him for so long. He would carry them with him, use them to understand the people who had come before him.
Finally, Peter stood up. "I should let you rest. You probably have a lot to think about."
Harry nodded, rising as well. "Thank you, Mister Petigrew. For everything."
"Please, call me Peter, "Peter smiled. "You're welcome, Harry. And if you ever need anything, dont hesitate to send me a message."
Harry felt a warmth spread through his chest. "Thank you."
<><>
Later that evening, Harry gathered with his friends in the cosy living room.
Draco and Crabbe were waiting for him, their faces filled with concern.
"How did it go?" Draco asked. "What did he tell you?"
Harry sat down heavily, rubbing his eyes. "A lot. About my parents, about their past, about the choices they made. It's a lot to take in."
Crabbe placed a hand on his shoulder. "You okay?"
Harry nodded slowly. "I think I am. It's just... strange. Learning about people you never knew, but who shaped your life in so many ways."
Draco nodded. "I understand. My father has told me things about his past that I wish I could forget. But they're part of who I am."
Harry looked at his friends, feeling a surge of gratitude. They had been through so much together, and they were still standing.
"I should go back to the castle now," Harry said. "I have to prepare for the mission in three weeks."
"Are you really going too?" Draco looked concerned. "Why not leave this to the Knights?. They know what they are doing."
Harry had thought about it. "Tom thinks that my presence there could be of help. I feel there is still something he is not telling me about myself. But... if there is anything I can do...I can't just stay put and do nothing. I'm too involved in this war already."
"Okay...just be careful," Draco said. "We'll be here when you return. And we'll write. Every day."
"And I'll prepare a treacle tart for you before your next visit." Added Crabbe.
Harry smiled. "I'd like that."
They said their goodbyes. It would only be a few weeks until they saw each other again, but the separation still felt heavy.
Soon after, Harry returned to Potter Castle with Dibble, his mind full of everything he had learned.
He walked through the grand entrance hall, past the portraits of his ancestors, and made his way to the training room.
The enchanted dummies stood waiting for him, their painted faces eager for combat.
Harry drew his wand from the new holster Tom had given him. The leather felt comfortable against his hip, ready for action.
He took a deep breath and began to train.
He had a mission to prepare for. A war to win. And he would not let anyone down...not his friends, not his family, and not himself.
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