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All My Friends


Mopsus - dead. Peter wrenched out of Voldemort’s grasp, his eyes blinded by tears as he realized he had control of himself again, but he needn’t have wrenched so hard, for Voldemort, in his anger, had all but lapsed his grip anyway, and the pull was too much, and Peter fell, sprawling to the ground. Voldemort turned to him, “Colloportus!” and the door clicked locked just as Peter managed to scramble up and to it. His body slammed heavily against the door and he twisted the handle to no result.

Peter turned to look at Voldemort, cramming himself as close to the corner of the room as possible, cowering. “Please… no… I don’t want to die… Please…”

Voldemort’s wand was raised.

Peter trembled something awful, “I don’t want to die, I don’t want to die, I don’t want to die.”

“Shame,” Voldemort whispered, “That we don’t always get what we want.”

Peter’s chubby little hands went up, his palms to the Dark Lord, “Please. I - I’ll do anything, I’ll do anything. Just don’t kill me or my mother. Please. Spare us, your - your Lordship.” The words tasted terrible in his mouth, even as he said them. But they gave Voldemort pause, as he stared at Peter with interested eyes.

The Dark Lord chuckled, “Didn’t take much, did it?”

Peter looked up at him through the cracks between his fingers, his fat cheeks flushed with fear. “S - S - Sir?”

“To bring you to your knees before me,” the Dark Lord whispered. “You’ll do anything, you say?”

Peter didn’t know how to answer. He’d only been saying words. Empty promises. Anything to make the Dark Lord lower his wand at the present moment. Anything to buy him time for Frank or Dumbledore or somebody - bloody anybody - to save him. He swallowed and nodded fearfully - he had Voldemort’s attention, every moment he spent burning the Dark Lord’s fancy like this, the longer he had for something to happen to stop this from being the end of it all...

The Dark Lord’s face split into a terrible grin. “Oh Peter. You shouldn’t make promises you don’t intend to keep.”

It was as though the Dark Lord could hear his thoughts… knew his intentions…

“Why don’t we make one that you will keep?” And the Dark Lord grabbed onto Peter’s wrist.

Peter struggled to pull away.

“If I let you go… if I let you live today… then one day, I shall ask something of you… and whatever it is… you will give me what I want. Do you swear it?” He tapped his own wrist with his wand.

“Yes, yes anything,” Peter whimpered and tried to pull away. A thick black whisp of smoke wound its way around Voldemort’s wrist… around Peter’s wrist… like a snake… or a rope that seemed to tie them together.

Voldemort’s eyes gleamed evilly. “No matter what it is… no matter when I ask it from you… no matter what threats you face… you will give to me what I want.” He leaned closer, “Do you swear it?”

“Please, yes, anything,” Peter whimpered, hating having Voldemort leaning so close to him, his body trembling. Please, he thought, Somebody please save me.

A flash of dark red pupil and Voldemort’s teeth in a smile that was probably once quite charming… another ghostly black snake or rope or whatever it was spun from Voldemort’s wrist and onto Peter’s… tightening the bond.

“Anything,” Voldemort hissed, “Even if it is something you hold dear? Do you swear it?”

“Yes!” Peter cried sobbing as a third smokey-snake wove its way about their arms.

Voldemort cackled loudly… and he dropped Peter’s wrist, the snake-ropes turning to mist and disappearing, and he turned away, looking at the body of Mopsus, laying across the floor. “I didn’t need you in the end, you filthy old man… Filthy, disappointing old man…” and he raised his wand - to do what, Peter had no idea, after all, the old man was dead already - but before Voldemort could do anything -- the door blasted off it’s hinges, great pieces of wood flying across the room, and Voldemort turned, “PROTEGO!” he shouted, and a shield went up only just in time, for a thick spike of wood had been headed directly for him, and was blocked by the charm.

“YEEEEEEEESSSSSSSS!” came a loud, reckless voice that sent Peter’s heart leaping. “THAT WAS BLOODY AWESOMMMEEE!”

“SIRIUS?” Peter squealed desperately, “SIRIUS!!!”

Through the smoke that billowed in from the hallway, thick and black, came three forms - and Peter’s heart leaped with the sight of each one. First was Sirius Black, whose shouts had preceded him through the smoke… and Frank Longbottom, whose face was a bloody mess (in every sense of the words)... and then James Potter, his glasses fogged with smoke as he coughed, wand pointed blindly into the room.

“My friends!” cried Peter, “All my friends!” He was near to tears.

“Look alive, Pete! We’re going to get you out of here!” Sirius called, barking with mad laughter as he extended a hand to Peter Pettigrew and pulled him to his feet.

Voldemort waved his wand, clearing the smoke and falling dust and hissed as his eyes fell on the three before him… now four as Peter stood and reached into his pocket for his wand. The Dark Lord’s eyes gleamed as he laughed, “Oh… you want to talk about friends that appear in black smoke?” He lowered his wand to his wrist - to the Dark Mark on his forearm - and the snake and skull burned into the skin there flashed brilliant red as he pressed it…

“Oh hell,” groaned Sirius, who remembered all too well what pressing the Dark Mark did when it came to Voldemort’s friends.

There were loud cracks all about the room, puffs of great black smoke, so many that Sirius lost count, and he, Frank, Peter, and James stumbled into the middle of the room, a cluster, all back-to-back-to-back-to-back.

“My friends!” said Voldemort, cackling, mocking Peter, “All my friends!”

Sirius felt James’s shoulder thump against his and they both glanced back, their eyes meeting. Both their thoughts seemed to be about the same as when they’d fallen from the motorbike. If they were going to face the Dark Lord and all of his Death Eaters… they were glad it was going to be with each other. And then they both turned back, facing the men and women surrounding them.

Half the Death Eaters wore masks, horrible skull-like features beneath dark cloaks… Bellatrix Lestrange cackled and danced, spinning merrily, her palms clasped as she looked at Sirius, her eyes flashing, baring her teeth at him nastily. “Ickle wittle Siri-poo, ickle wittle fing…” she cooed and cackled.

James saw Orion Black and his wife standing a bit to his right, luckily out of Sirius’s view, though he couldn’t help but see that Walburga Black’s eyes were trained on her son’s back, a sort of wide expression on her face that he couldn’t quite read… Orion sneered at Frank, who faced him, and Rudolphus stood beside Orion, wand raised, “You’re dead this time, Longbottom, you hear me?” he hissed. “No more bloody games…”

There was Greyback, leaning against the frame of the door, looking pale his sharpened teeth hanging over his closed lip, staring at Peter with a sort of vile hatred… beside him, the wild haired Druella Black, nearly a duplicate of her psychotic daughter…

Peter whimpered.

“It’s alright, Pete,” said Sirius, “We’ve got your back, mate…”

Voldemort laughed, “Still so cocky, Sirius Black? Even surrounded as you are by your enemies?” He stepped forward, walking around the space between the four boys and the ring of Death Eaters that surrounded them… “Even as you face death, you’re acting so bloody cocky…” he shook his head and reached out a hand, grabbing onto Sirius’s chin, wrenching it up to look into his eyes, “You could still be great… if you join the Dark Lord.”

“Bugger off, you great bully,” snapped Sirius, “I’d die first.”

“And so you will,” Voldemort said lightly, dropping Sirius’s chin roughly, as though tossing his face away.

Sirius squared his shoulders. Voldemort turned to James. “And of course… I know what you’ve to say, foul little piece of work you are…” he sneered. “I’ll have a great deal of enjoyment in murdering you.”

“Not nearly as much as I’ll have murdering you,” James responded in a sneer nearly as great as Voldemort’s.

The Dark Lord cackled. “First, I’ll put out that nasty little spark you’ve got…” Then a grin spread across his face, “Oh. Well. That is most interesting. It seems your little spark… has the same red hair and eyes as another boy I know… One day, I will need to meet this Lily Evans that keeps bewitching all the boys your age.”

James’s face paled. How had he known of Lily?

Voldemort laughed as he walked on, “The Dark Lord sees all now, Potter…” he hissed the words and James felt a cold shiver run through him. “And you…” Voldemort stopped before Frank, grinning. “You - I’m afraid I’ve never met you before.” He looked him over carefully. “Not much to see.”

Frank stared up at him defiantly. “Neither are you.”

Several surprised gasps went up through the Death Eaters.

“What’s your name boy?” Voldemort hissed.

“Longbottom. Frank Longbottom.”

“Unfortunate one, that is,” Voldemort cackled. And a couple of the Death Eaters laughed, too.

Rudolphus spoke up, “Kill him, my Lord, it’s what he’s earned! He’s a blighter, that one…”

“All in good time, Rudolphus… all in good time…” And Voldemort moved around to stare down at Peter. “And of course… Mr. Pettigrew… my newest friend.”

Peter, suddenly quite brave with his friends to his back, spat out, “I’m no friend to you… you - you -- snake.”

Voldemort chuckled. “Say what you like, I’ve got the vow.” And he walked back around to look at Sirius. “Hello again,” he said, leaning close.

“LET ME BE THE ONE TO KILL HIM MY LORD!” shrieked Bellatrix, “HE IS MY COUSIN AND SPEAKS WITH DISRESPECT TO MY MASTER AND I WANT DESPERATELY TO BE THE ONE TO KILL SIRIUS BLACK!”

“Quiet, Bella,” Voldemort hissed.

She shrunk back.

He stared into Sirius’s eyes. “You say you’ll die before you follow my commands? Well… let’s see about that, shall we? …Imperio.”