Chapter Text
"Oi, Draco, can I borrow your shirt for the Feast?"
"The grey one or the brown one?"
"Brown!"
"Yeah, sure, go ahead."
"Thanks, mate!"
Peter wants to find the nearest window and throw himself out of it while the brats yell at each other across the room. Merlin, was he ever that loud and annoying when he was their age?
Still, he can't exactly complain. He could be dead right now, like James and Lily and the countless others who fell at the Dark Lord's or the Aurors and Order Members' wands, or worse - rotting in Azkaban like his dear brethren. Living for the past ten years as a house pet isn't the worst fate that could've befallen him.
And sometimes, it comes in handy. Like right about now.
"Can you believe it, Draco?" Ron says quietly while he buttons up the brown shirt and looks at himself in the mirror. They're the only Slytherin boys left in the dorm - Peter knows that the Nott brat was fetched by Severus hours ago to keep Potter company, while Zabini and the two other oafs left early to avoid the horde of people that will inevitably be shoving at each other later to enter the Great Hall. Peter remembers those times at the end of every year and how the four marauders would set up pranks at the doorway to slow them down even more.
"Hm?" Draco looks up from his position on the bed where he's bending down to tie his shoes. "Oh, the Dark Lord thing? Yeah, I prefer not to think about it."
Peter stops chewing on Ron's Slytherin scarf and freezes in place. The Dark Lord? What do they mean? What did he miss while he was busy being the perfect pet to avoid detection?
"I mean, I get it. But bear with me for a second here," Ron insists. He messes with his hair while squinting at his reflection and Peter has to resist the urge to scurry over to him and bite his ankles to get him to talk already. "What in Morgana's name do you think it means that Harry shows up at Hogwarts and in his first year he goes toe to toe against Him and survives again?"
"That my cousin is invincible?" Draco asks, exasperated. "I don't know, Ron. I do know that it means life will be much harder for me in this House once the news breaks out to the rest of the Death Eaters that avoided Azkaban."
Ron grimaces. "Yeah, I reckon I won't fare much better either."
Draco walks up to him, leaning an arm on the ginger's shoulder and looking at both of their reflections in the mirror side by side.
"Thinking of getting a re-sort already?"
"Nah, I wouldn't leave you here to fend for yourself," Ron teases. "Besides, I hate quitting."
"Together to the end of the line, Weasley."
"To the end of the line, Malfoy."
The two boys finally exit the dorm then, leaving Peter alone with his thoughts. His whirling, confusing thoughts that he'd rather not have right now when he could be getting delicious roast pork bits fed to him under the table at the Feast.
Some things have to come before feasts, though. Like his survival.
So, turns out the Dark Lord isn't as dead as Peter might have hoped. He remembers his Dark Mark not disappearing in '81 after the man was gone, but since he hasn't turned back to his human body since he framed Sirius - lot of good that did him - he hasn't had a chance to check it since then. It would've been too risky to transform, and he wouldn't jeopardize his safety.
But now that he knows his Master is alive, he can't just ignore it. He knows that the punishment will be too great when the Dark Lord finally returns for good. Because he'll know. He'll know that Peter was here all along, that he alone was the first of his Followers to be aware of his return, and that he didn't do anything. He'd rather take his chances with his Master now, when his only offense has been hiding away instead of searching for him. He might not have gone to Azkaban for his Master like Bellatrix and the rest did but he didn't renounce him either, like the other cowards who evaded the Aurors' punishment.
But how is he meant to find him?
Peter doesn't even know what state his Master is in. He supposes it can't be that great if the Potter brat managed to thwart him again, but that leaves the question: where did his Master go and how will Peter find him?
A question that will have to be answered later, though, he decides. First, he must get a wand, if he wants to be any help to his Master. His has been blown to smithereens, unfortunately, a necessary sacrifice to make his 'death' look more believable, so he'll have to get a new one. And most importantly, he has to retrieve his Master's wand as well, which he's hidden in a safe location after his Master fell. To do all that, he has to get to London.
And what better way to get there than to ride the Express back to King's Cross?
***
As the train approaches London, Peter carefully extracts himself from Ron's pocket, mourning the safety and comfort he's leaving behind but knowing that there is no other option. He falls to the ground - thankfully the sound is masked by the infernal children's ruckus - then slips out of the compartment door and into the hallway. Nobody is there to see a lone rat scurrying along the train's linoleum flooring and he makes good time. Peter positions himself right at the doors and waits until the train finally screeches to a halt and the doors open. He descends the stairs quickly but he doesn't dash across the platform immediately. Instead, Peter lowers himself to the tracks and hides under the train for a bit, waiting just long enough for people to start actually moving - less chances of being spotted if everyone's moving around.
Once satisfied, Peter climbs back onto the platform, shooting the Potter-Blacks a nasty look as he passes by them, and slips through the cloaked exit towards the Muggle world.
It takes a lot of maneuvering around to make sure no one sees him and kicks him off the bus waiting in front of the train station, but he thankfully manages to get on. He doesn't remember how to navigate the Muggle world all that well, not after so many years of living as a rat at the Burrow and Hogwarts, but he rushes to the back of the bus, mercifully empty of people, and raises himself up to get a view of the window. When he sees the bus pass by the Leaky Cauldron, he squeaks in triumph and hurries back to the doors, then slips away once more.
Getting to Diagon Alley is a piece of cake after that. The shadows and grime of the Leaky cloak him from people's eyes, and it doesn't take long for someone to pass by and open the brick wall for him to slip through as well. Peter debates sneaking into Ollivander's to steal a wand but he thinks better of it. That man has always given him weird vibes and he doesn't know what all manner of protections the odd wizard has placed on the shop or the wands themselves.
He remembers a particular shop in Knockturn, though. Evan took him there during the first war once, when the Dark Lord ordered them to have two wands on their persons at all times. A discrete, secluded little rundown shop, full of junk and not much of import. To the Ministry's eyes, of course. Underneath all that, though, Peter knows he'll find all manners of second-hand wands, waiting for him to take his pick.
Without further ado, Peter goes off in the direction of Odds'n'Ends down Knockturn Alley.
The shop is as rundown as ever, though it feels like it's slightly shabbier than usual. Thankfully, it's still in use so all Peter has to do is wait until nightfall for the shop to close and the owner to leave. Once all the lights have been extinguished and no noises can be heard from inside, Peter slides inside through a crack in the wooden door - it's a shame that Knockturn shop owners can't even afford decent doors, let alone protective wards, but it does come in handy for him now so he isn't complaining - and starts searching for the wands.
The place is so cluttered and full of… well, odds and ends, that it's a herculean effort to find where the wands are stashed. It doesn't help that every bit of furniture, including the doors and windows, is made of wood - he can't even track the wands by smelling them. Finally though, after more than ten or fifteen minutes of searching, Peter finds them.
He looks left and right. He makes sure the grimy windows can't allow anyone to spy anything that's going on inside the shop, then once satisfied, transforms back into a human for the first time since November 1981. It's jarring, to say the least.
He's absolutely filthy, and his clothes are torn and worn, but he doesn't have time to think about that. Though his left arm catches his attention.
He pulls up the sleeve carefully and examines his Mark. It's not any less faded or more colorful since the last time he saw it. In fact, there is nothing particularly changed about it, not to the naked eye. But it's now that he's in human form again, his senses no longer dulled by the body and mind of a rodent, that he feels a sort of… calling, a tugging that's beckoning him somewhere. It's faint, so faint that he's sure he wouldn't have even noticed if he hadn't been looking for it. But it's there.
"I'm coming, Master," Peter whispers, voice cracking due to lack of water, which sends him into a coughing fit. He suppresses it as much as he is able, wary of attracting any attention, then turns back towards the wands crammed into a wooden drawer of a desk at the back of the shop. He discards the ones that have been clearly broken and - rather poorly - repaired, considers a few that have big cracks along the length of the wood but puts them away as well, before narrowing down his choices to four wands that look more or less in good condition.
He wraps his hand around each in turn, swishing them about and trying a Lumos or two to see how they feel. None of them are a perfect fit, but the last one feels as close to his original wand as he is ever going to get. The handwritten label attached to it proclaims it a chestnut wood and dragon heartstring wand.
It'll do for now.
Peter pockets the wand, pauses in front of the other rejected three, then grabs another one at random and a wand holster that looks like it's been worn by ten generations of wixes. He straps it to his calf then puts the backup wand in it, lowering his trouser leg afterwards.
He takes one last look around, not seeing anything else of use that he might take with him, then takes out his new wand and Apparates out of there.
The moon is high in the sky on the other side. The village is empty at this time of night, and eerily quiet in a way that makes Peter uncomfortable. If he were a better man, a better friend, he might even feel remorseful and ashamed of being responsible for the statue he can see a few feet away from him and for burying the wand belonging to the other responsible party where he did. But he doesn't. All he feels is a sense of urgency - to hurry up and retrieve what he came here for then get far away as quickly as possible.
He doesn't bother turning into a rat for the short walk he has to take. He hurries down the main street of Godric's Hollow, ignoring the faces of Lily and James, forever carved in stone at the age of 21, holding their infant son in their arms. He ignores the dilapidated ruins of the Potters' cottage too. He rounds the house to get to the backyard then makes a beeline for the tree planted there, so much taller and richer than the last time he saw it all those years ago, and pulls out his wand to summon the bone-white wand hidden at the base of the tree.
He hadn't had much time to hide it in '81 when he arrived at the scene and saw his former friends dead, the house ruined, Harry alive, and his Master gone. He'd just taken the wand, buried it here, then Disapparated before Sirius, Dumbledore or the Aurors could arrive.
Now, the wand comes sailing out of the ground, displacing the earth in which it's been entombed for a decade, and lands firmly in Peter's grasp. He doesn't hold it for long, feeling like it'd be sacrilege to do so - and also because the sight still makes his spine stiffen and the hairs on the nape of his neck stand on end - and instead jams it in the subpar holster on his calf next to his backup wand.
Task finished, Peter takes one last look around to make sure he's not being watched by any nosy neighbours, then Disapparates once more.
***
A few weeks later, after a lot of random Apparitions all over the continent guided simply by the tugging in his left forearm - which got stronger and stronger the closer he got to the South-east of Europe - Peter finally catches wind of his Master's presence in Albania. It's not a lot to go on at first, simply local rumors overheard in pubs - Peter has to make liberal use of the Dark translation Charm Rodolphus taught him during the first war - about some kind of wild animal preying on snakes and rats in the Tomorr Mountain Forests, but as soon as he hears that, Peter knows that he only needs to follow the trail of dead animals to find his Master.
It takes another few days, close to a week, of scurrying around the forest floor as a rat and sniffing around at every opportunity, but he finally finds his Master. He's not alone, though.
"M-Master, oh it's so great to see you!"
His Master is nothing more than a wraith when he finds him, surviving by possessing snakes and other vermin found in the forest, but he's still as terrifying as he ever was. Peter is very, very glad that he decided to go looking for him. He shudders to think what his fate might have been had he delayed.
"Wormtail… isn't this a pleasant surprise…" his Master rasps, voice weak. It still sends a shiver of unease down Peter's spine.
"I heard rumors of your return, Master, a-and I set off to find you at once!" Peter stutters, heart jumping in his throat as he hopes that this will please the Dark Lord and curry him some favor.
"Is that so…," the wraith muses. He turns to the giant snake he's hovering beside, a creature that almost terrifies Peter as much as his Master, but only just, and hisses at it in Parseltongue. Peter isn't sure he does a very good job of suppressing his flinch, but he still tries. "And why have you searched for me, Wormtail?"
Oh how Peter hates that nickname. He wishes he'd never been a marauder if only that name wouldn't exist. The Dark Lord has always taken great pleasure in using it instead of his name, to remind him of his betrayal, of what he gave up in order to secure his own safety. It's not that Peter feels guilty - he just dislikes being reminded constantly of the life he used to lead, the lowly position he had with his so-called friends. Always the bottom of the barrel, the butt of the joke, the less intelligent and less handsome and unpopular among the four marauders. The weak link.
But he showed them. Not so weak now, is he?
"T-to help you, Master. To be of service."
The Dark Lord hums. He turns towards the snake again, seeming to carry on a full conversation for a long time, before he finally faces Peter again.
"Very well. You may assist me," he emphasizes, admonishing Peter for daring to suggest that the Dark Lord Voldemort would ever need something as menial as help without actually saying anything. Peter nods frantically to show he's seen his mistake and won't make it again.
"Y-yes, Master. Thank you, Master."
"Tell me what news you have and what you have been up to during my absence. Then, we'll plan."
Peter does. Haltingly, and always sneaking uneasy glances at the snake he soon finds is a she and is called Nagini, Peter tells his Master every bit of information he's gathered in the past ten years, but most importantly recently. It's not much, clearly not enough to please the Dark Lord, but as he so kindly reminds Peter, he isn't in possession of a proper body so he can't dole out punishment at the moment. The promise for the future is implied.
Once his Master is satisfied, he orders Peter to find them a house to inhabit in the closest village to the forest, and a body to possess.
Peter nods dutifully and scurries away as quickly as his little rat legs will allow him.
Finding suitable lodgings and a convenient host isn't hard. The village he finds, a few miles away from the forest, is a small and isolated one, with houses dotted across the land at intervals of several miles - which serves him well, since no one will notice the sudden disappearance of the 20 something year old woman living alone in a three bedroom cottage Peter stumbles upon. He Imperios her the second he gets inside, checks the house top to bottom to make sure no one else is present or likely to come knocking, then hurries back to his Master and his new companion to bring them along. Once there, the Dark Lord doesn't hesitate to possess the woman.
"We will need to find someone else soon. This body won't last long, especially if I take full control of her often," his Master says after he's settled into his new body. The voice uttering those words is feminine, clearly belonging to the woman, but there's a dark and foreign undertone beneath the surface that is sure to give his Master away if he attempts to talk to anyone else besides Peter.
"Of course, Master. What should I look for next?" he asks, casual as can be, as if he's not talking about robbing some random person of their free will and eventually life. And really, after the things Peter's done and seen in the past, this doesn't even reach the middle of his long list of atrocities.
"A young Muggle," his Master says, looking thoughtful. "Someone easy to control and take over, without much will. A baby or a toddler should suffice."
Peter blanches. He knows he shouldn't for all the reasons he's already mentioned, but he still does. Betraying his friends and orchestrating the perfect opportunity for his Master to kill the child prophesied to kill him is one thing. Hand picking and delivering a toddler - or a baby - for his Master to possess and slowly destroy is another.
"I- yes, Master," Peter agrees, like the coward he is. Because at the end of the day, the life of a random Muggle baby is worth less than Peter's continued survival. It always will be.
"But not now. First, you must go back to Britain and retrieve something for me. Or rather, steal it and place it somewhere else."
Peter perks up at that, glad to be given a mission already - especially one that will take him as far away from his Master as possible. He tries not to think that too loudly or clearly, though, for he never knows when his Master is searching for stray thoughts.
"What is it, Master?"
"Find me some food and I will tell you over dinner." Peter nods and turns to hurry out in search of food. "And find a rat or two for Nagini. She's been starving."
He gulps and leaves the room.
After his Master has eaten his fill and the snake is sporting two, rat shaped bulges where she's coiled around the fireplace - Peter will eat later, alone, where he won't be stared down by two pairs of serpentine eyes - he turns to face Peter and starts talking.
"Before my downfall, I gave Lucius an important item. I know he's a traitor now, of the worst caliber, but I doubt he was aware of what I entrusted him with so I'm sure it's still in his possession. The item I'm speaking of is a black book, blank except for a name engraved on the back - Tom Marvolo Riddle. You are to take this item from Malfoy Manor and then place it with a magical child of your choosing - the weaker spirited, the better."
Peter nods eagerly. That sounds easy enough.
"And what am I to do next, Master?"
"You will return here and secure the body I mentioned. Afterwards, you are to get back to the Weasleys and continue your charade until the time is right. The child will be slowly corrupted by the book until their essence, magic, and life-force will be absorbed to create a body for me. You will know when it happens. Once that is done, you will take the body and bring it back here to me."
"I understand, Master. I won't let you down."
"You won't. You know the consequences should you fail," his Master hisses in that sibilant voice that manages to put fear even into the bravest hearts. "Which reminds me - Crucio ."
Peter falls to the ground immediately, limbs contorting in unspeakable pain. He must black out at some point because when he comes back to awareness, his limbs and back are stiff from where he's sprawled on the floor, while the Dark Lord is lounging in his chair with Nagini draped around his body, reading.
"Get out of my sight," he commands without taking his eyes off his book. "Prepare a bed for me then make yourself scarce. We will speak more in the morning."
Peter doesn't need to be told twice. He scrambles to his feet and books it out of there, hissed, cruel laughter following in his wake.
As he prepares his Master's bed and then eats his dinner in solitude, Peter repeats to himself, like a mantra, four little words, over and over again.
At least I'm alive. At least I'm alive. At least I'm alive.
***
His Master sends him on his way the very next day. Half of Peter wishes he could have more time to rest after his continuous search and arduous journey to Albania, while the other half is all too eager to get away.
Getting back on British soil is much easier and faster on the return trip. He makes his way to Wiltshire then slips inside Malfoy Manor with ease - Lucius should really update those wards of his.
Peter sneers internally at the opulence written in every piece of furniture and every brick of the Manor, but he ignores it as best as he can. He's on a mission and he won't fuck it up. He can't.
As he makes his way towards the library - he doesn't remember the way very well so he gets turned around a few times - he spots Lucius and Narcissa seated together in one of the rooms. Curious, he eavesdrops.
"-t do you think this means, Narcissa? Were we wrong to do what we did ten years ago?"
"Not at all, my love. Come what may, it shall be a better fate than what would've been in store for us had we remained loyal," Narcissa replies. Peter can't help but scoff mentally. Being on the losing side can't be better than standing by the Dark Lord. It can't be, not when you'll be dead. "Besides, we've already given the book to Dumbledore. We can't exactly back out now, can we?"
That makes Peter freeze. Book? What book? Surely not the one Peter has been tasked to retrieve.
Lucius sighs. "You are, of course, right, my love. I just worry. I want the best for Draco and I'm unsure if I made the right choice."
"You did. I'm very proud of you. And I'm glad you got rid of that ghastly book, too, if only because I could sense the darkest of magics radiating off of it. It's a good thing it's not in the same Manor as Draco anymore."
Peter doesn't stay to listen after that. He starts searching for the library frantically, thoughts jumbled in his head and heart threatening to rip out of his ribcage. When he finds it, he scours it from top to bottom, even turning back to a human to perform the summoning spell his Lord taught him to use to find it faster.
Nothing.
The book isn't there.
He transforms back then leaves the Manor as fast as he can, and Apparates back to Albania. A stupid move, as he's soon to find out, but a necessary one.
"Master, I- it's gone! Malfoy gave the book to Dumbledore!" he wails as soon as he's back inside the house. Peter falls to his knees, head bowed before the Dark Lord, and awaits punishment. It comes swiftly.
After the Cruciatus is over, Peter lifts his head at his Master's command and looks into the red eyes blazing with fury.
"That traitorous, little scum. He gave it to the old fool, did he? Oh how you'll suffer, Lucius. You and your family both," his Master rants, grip deathly strong on his wand. "Wormtail!"
Peter flinches at the wizard's bark.
"Y-yes, M-Master."
"Go back to Britain. Get into Hogwarts - I do not know how, nor do I care - and get that book back . If you fail, don't even bother coming back. When I'm myself again, I will find you and kill you anyway. Slowly and painfully."
"Yes, yes, Master. I will do so, I won't fail, I promise," Peter babbles nervously.
"Be gone!"
Peter is outside and Apparating before he can even blink.
Hogwarts is the same as it's always been. Peter can't even feel the usual welcome he senses every time he crosses the line between Hogsmeade and Hogwarts, busy as he is with traversing the length of the grounds. He slips inside the castle, blissfully devoid of children and staff alike, and he makes quick work of running on little feet across the hallways and staircases of the school, taking all the shortcuts he can remember until he finds himself in front of the gargoyles guarding the Headmaster's office.
Now what?
Peter runs around the stone statues, trying to find a crack through which to reach the stairs leading to the office, but to no avail. He wants to turn back into a man and rip his hair out.
Can he afford to wait around in the hopes of someone coming in or out of the office? Then again, can he afford not to?
Peter settles down somewhere in a corner and starts waiting. He really hopes Dumbledore isn't on vacation.
Four hours later, someone finally approaches the gargoyles. Peter sits up straight and peeks around the corner then breathes a sigh of relief when it's Dumbledore himself walking towards his office. He utters the password - Fizzing Whizzbees - then the stone guardians jump aside to allow him access. Peter slips through at the last moment, and makes sure to remain a decent distance away from the old wizard and to remain quiet while they ascend. When Dumbledore opens the door and goes inside, so does Peter.
The office looks just as cluttered and whimsical as it did during Peter's school years. He can remember many hours spent here over the seven years of his schooling, getting admonished for the marauders' various pranks and misdeeds. Looks like he's here to pull another one today.
Peter dives under a cabinet and watches carefully to see what Dumbledore is doing. The old man first goes up to the bird cage holding that Phoenix of his, and runs his fingers along the bird's feathers for a long time, expression thoughtful and seemingly far away. After he's had his fill, he walks over to his desk and takes a seat, sinking into the chair heavily and with a tired sigh, before he starts reading documents and signing them. Peter thinks that he shouldn't even bother fearing his death at the Dark Lord's wand - surely this boredom will kill him first.
After what feels like an eternity of nothing but the shuffling of parchment and the scratching of a quill, Dumbledore finally puts them all away. He leans back in his chair, closing his eyes for a moment before he opens them again - a grim determination in his blue eyes. Becoming more alert now, Peter carefully observes as Dumbledore picks up his wand and waves it at a desk drawer. He then opens it and takes out a-
A black book!
Master's black book!
Peter could jump for joy if the space under the cabinet allowed it and he wasn't on a stealth mission.
Dumbledore examines the book in his hands carefully, holding it almost gingerly - like he's afraid to touch it too much. He runs spell after spell on it, each time his brow furrowing more, and Peter wonders what he's doing or looking for. After ten minutes of continuous casting, the old wizard puts his wand away and sighs.
"Well, Fawkes, it doesn't look like I'll discover this book's secrets today either," Dumbledore speaks, making Peter nearly jump out of his skin. "I suppose I could try some more spells but first… a cup of tea is in order, I think. And I could stretch my legs too, I've been sitting here for hours."
The Phoenix trills as if in agreement. Dumbledore nods and gets out of his chair. He looks down at the book for a moment, debating, then shrugs.
"You'll still be here when I return," he tells the book, then rounds the desk to pick up the bird. "Come along, Fawkes. I'm sure the elves will have something for you too." He strides to the door then opens and closes it behind him as he leaves the office.
Peter waits for a beat or two, making sure that the Headmaster hasn't forgotten anything or changed his mind about leaving the book unattended, then hurries towards the desk and changes back into a man. He picks up the book, yelps and almost drops it back down when he feels the Dark aura radiating off of it, then turns it around to check the name on the back.
'Tom Marvolo Riddle' the engraved lettering on the back informs him.
Smiling triumphantly, Peter pockets the book and turns back into a rat then slips away once more. He doesn't stop running until he's through the gates of the castle, then he finds a secluded spot, turns back, and Apparates out of there.
He has two children to find - one to sacrifice to a book, one to offer as host to his Master. First, the book.
***
Peter spends about a week in Diagon Alley. It makes him twitchy and on edge, jumping every time he spies red robes and thinks it's the Aurors, coming to take him into custody and throw him in Azkaban. The search for him following Sirius' trial and release has decreased significantly, but he's still a wanted man in Britain, and the Aurors know about his animagus form. Truly, Peter doesn't know how he got so lucky to be taken in by the Weasleys and not get discovered for ten years.
During his stay, Peter observes. He takes note of all the children coming and going, eavesdrops on conversations here and there, and tries to determine which child is the perfect target. He knows it must be a Hogwarts aged one, so that he can keep an eye on them throughout the year as Ron's pet, and preferably a bullied or lonely one, so that they will find solace in an empty book and write in it as in a diary - Peter's inferred that much.
But who to pick?
"Watch it, Loony," a boy who looks to be in his first year - or preparing to enter it - spits, shoving a diminutive girl with white blonde hair and wide blue eyes. The girl stumbles and falls right in front of Madam Malkin's, while the boy laughs and continues walking with his friends. Peter zeroes in on her, seeing the barely masked hurt in the girl's eyes and the scraped knee she's acquired and decides to tail her.
He follows her around the Alley as she does her shopping - at first, he thinks she's here alone, which is common for parentless or neglected children, but about halfway through her errands she is joined by an older man with the same blonde hair and wide eyes. That must be her father. Peter scrutinizes him, feeling he knows him from somewhere, and it isn't until ten minutes later that he realizes why the man is so familiar - that's Xenophilius Lovegood! He was a few years older than Peter when he was at Hogwarts.
Now that he thinks about it, Peter remembers seeing the pair around in the past. If he isn't mistaken, the Lovegoods live somewhere near the Burrow, though he isn't sure if any of the Weasley children are friends with the girl.
He continues to follow them around and it doesn't take long to realize two things: little Luna is the loneliest kid he's seen since Remus Lupin arrived at Hogwarts, and she's the perfect fit for his Master's plan.
Peter doesn't have time to feel sorry for her - she's just another pawn that stands in the way of the Dark Lord's success - nor to waste any more than he already has. The second the pair turn their attention elsewhere as they stop in front of a stall selling homemade jewelry charms, Peter ducks into an empty alleyway, transforms, takes out the book and transforms back. The newly turned rat takes the book in his mouth with some difficulty and drags it across the pavement until he reaches the girl's unattended satchel full of school supplies. Quick as can be, Peter dumps the book inside her bag and scurries away and out of sight. He watches for a moment or two longer, then turns away once Luna picks up her bag and continues following her father through the shops.
One down, one to go.
As soon as he exits the Leaky Cauldron and finds an empty alley, Peter Apparates back to Albania and starts searching. He tries a town several miles away from the one his Lord is living in, as there is no sense in snatching a random child in the same town as him.
It really shouldn't be as easy as it is.
As he runs around as a rat, Peter's eyes get caught by a rather poorly dressed woman holding a poorly wrapped baby in her arms, standing around and begging people for money. The passers-by ignore her pleas, even going so far as to throw insults at her or spit in her direction - Peter doesn't need a translator for that.
Knowing he's got his target, he waits until the woman finally gets tired of being abused in broad daylight and starts walking home. He follows steadily, then when she turns a corner towards a disreputable part of town with long shadows and no witnesses, Peter transforms and jabs his wand in her eyes.
"Obliviate," he whispers. He doesn't try to be gentle - as long as she forgets she has a child, he couldn't care less if she forgets the rest of her life along with it - and once he's satisfied with the results, yanks the baby from her arms and puts her to sleep with a softly muttered, 'Somnus'.
The baby is curiously quiet, and when he looks down at it he can see that its lips - he doesn't know if it's a boy or a girl, nor does he care - are slightly blue from being out in the air all day while wrapped badly in a thin blanket. Not wanting the baby to die before he can give it to his Master, Peter Apparates to the Dark Lord's house and enters quickly.
"I have fulfilled my tasks, Master," Peter says as he enters and kneels on the ground, baby clutched in his arms.
"Bring it here, Wormtail," the wizard says without any other form of acknowledgement.
Peter rises to his feet and shuffles close to the man then presents the baby - almost a toddler really.
"It will suffice. I will transfer into this body tonight and you can go back to the Weasleys tomorrow. Before that, you will need to prepare meals and lay them under stasis charms to last me until the Yule Holidays, when you will return with updates. Understood?"
"Yes, Master," Peter says quietly, swallowing harshly. He really hopes he doesn't fuck it up.
"Very well. Go and place the child near the fireplace to warm up then prepare dinner."
Peter nods and does as he's told. Later, after dinner has been served and his Master is ready for bed, he brings him the child and watches as the wraith leaves the woman's body - she falls limply to the floor like a marionette with her strings severed - and enters the child's. Seeing those red eyes and evil expression on the innocent face of a toddler is more than a little jarring.
When he goes to bed that night, that's all he dreams about.
The following morning, Peter rises early and takes care of the meal prep, stocking as much food as he can and hoping it'll be enough - he doesn't doubt that his Master will call for him if it isn't, though, plan or no plan. Once everything is done, he bears through another round of the Cruciatus - a reminder of what's to come should he fail his task - then Disapparates once more, this time near the Burrow.
Peter transforms for the last time for the foreseeable future, then crosses the distance between the road and the Weasleys' property and starts running towards the house right when Ron stumbles outside with a basket full of laundry.
"Scabbers!" the redhead exclaims, dropping the basket in the grass without a moment's hesitation, then scoops Peter up from the ground and brings him up to his chest for a cuddle.
Peter can't wait until he can stop this charade and strike down all the Weasleys.