The Marauders: Year Two | #Wattys2016

Loads of Chocolate Frogs

The tunnel was slightly sloped and led to a staircase that seemed to go down, down, down forever and ever until he was sure he had to be somewhere in the dungeons of the castle. It leveled out and became a long, twisting hallway - the walls bare except for a few exposed roots here or there, and the occasional spider's web. Peter ducked away from those - he didn't much care for spiders. It did seem as though it was never ending, though, even longer than the tunnel Remus had shown them that went to the Shrieking Shack, it seemed. He was starting to think perhaps the tunnel didn't go anywhere at all when he found himself at another set of stairs, these ones leading up a short way and he could just see the outline of a trap door at the very top.

Anything could be beyond that door, he thought nervously, and he stood at the foot of the stairs, afraid of that door for a moment. What if it was a second entrance to the Shrieking Shack and he pushed it open to find the fierce face of the werewolf, as Sirius had? Sure, Sirius had gotten out of the experience, but he was much faster-thinking than Peter was, and Peter knew the odds of his getting out with just a scratch was far less than Sirius's was.

Peter glanced back the way he'd come.

It did seem a shame to have come all this way just to turn back now, without knowing where it led. Besides, the Shrieking Shack had been so gloomy and dark and the light around the edge of this trap door was bright. It couldn't possibly be the same place.

Perhaps if he just peeked...

So Peter talked himself into climbing the steps and he reached for the door with quavering hands and stood, hesitating, trying to pep-talk himself into making the push he needed to open up the door. And then he did it. Before he could talk himself out of it.

He found himself in some sort of storeroom, he thought, by the look of it. Great crates and barrels surrounded the door that his torso now protruded from. He was in some sort of basement room - this he figured because of narrow, high windows at the top of the room, where the sunlight was streaming in. Outside, he could see snow framing the edge of the low windows and people's legs as they went by. A staircase led up along one wall to a dark purple door at the top.

Peter pulled himself up out of the trap door, leaving it open incase he needed to make a quick escape, and moved slowly through the piles of boxes. There was an open one on top of a stack and he inched over, pulling the flap low so he could see inside, and his eyes widened.

Chocolate frogs.

Loads of chocolate frogs.

Greedily, he reached in and grabbed several handfuls of the frogs, excitement filling him. He stuffed his pockets with them eagerly.

When he'd emptied the box into his pockets, he turned and spotted another opened box and he lunged for it, eager to get even more chocolate frogs. But in that box was licorice wands and he greedily snapped up a bunch of those before running a little ways and opening yet another box and another and another, finding Sugar Mice and Jelly Slugs and Cockroach Clusters and Drooble's Best Blowing Gumballs and Fantastic Beast Biscuits and all kinds of delicious things to eat in every box.

Surely this was heaven.

Somewhere along the way, Peter had died and this was the afterlife, he was sure of it.

He stuffed his cheeks full of Glacial Snow Flakes and grabbed fistfulls of Hocus Pocus Pops and hoisted a bag of Fizzing Whizbees over his shoulder.

When he was absolutely certain there was no way that he could possibly carry anymore of it in his pockets or in his hands, he lumbered back to the hole in the floor and dropped himself through, pulling the door closed behind him, whispering a promise to come back to this magical world of sugar and sweets. "I won't forget you, ever," he swore.

It was quite a lot harder making his way back through the tunnel than it had been before, weighted down as he was by all the lollies and treats, but he managed. There was a gentle slope to the passageway, slowly he moved upward and upward, which he hadn't noticed going down but he certainly noticed it now. He was quite winded by the time he reached those stairs and he stood at the base of them, staring up at their height, remembering how long he'd climbed down and did not relish the thought of going up.

Peter sat at the bottom of the stairs and took a break in his journey, sucking on a Hocus Pocus Pop in the dim light as he caught his breath and thought about what he would tell James and Sirius about his discovery. A selfish part of him wanted to hide all the candy and not tell them about it at all, to dissuade them from ever figuring out about the spell they needed to cast on the witch to get back there. Who knew how long the sweets would last in the storeroom there if he brought along three other hungry teenage boys? And what if Remus got the brilliant idea to show Lily Evans this passageway too? Knowing Lily, she'd want to bring back sweets for all the Gryffindors! Soon this lovely heaven he'd found would be emptied and there'd be no more sweets for him, Peter, to enjoy. And after all, he'd found them first. He had a right to them!

He started the trek up the long stairs, telling himself that this passageway and the storehouse it led to would be his secret - his own private place to go when James and Sirius and Remus deserted him and made him feel left out. Now they could be left out, too.

But then again, he thought, if he did tell them, they'd think him very brave for having gone down the tunnel alone. Not only that, but they might think him cool for having done it, and maybe they'd appreciate him for finding all the sweets - like they did when he came back from the kitchens getting the butterbeer from the House Elves.

He rather liked the idea of them thinking him brave.

Peter finally reached the top of the stairs and struggled to fit up the chute to the lever in the top of the witch's hump, pulled on it, and stuck his head out, looking about the deserted hallway. He was afraid he might've squashed some of the chocolate frogs by the time he'd got himself squeezed out of the witch's hump - but he managed to get himself down to the carpet and watched as the hump slid closed behind him.

Quickly, he turned and ran for Gryffindor Tower. "They better be back by now," he muttered as he ran. He had no idea what time it was, but he was certain he'd been gone for hours and hours on his journey... He looked up as he ran at a high window and saw the dark and the moon and his heart leaped into his throat. Could he truly have been gone that long that it was night time? He hoped he wouldn't run into anyone! How would he explain being on the Third Floor at a late hour? And even as he had the thought of it, he suddenly he came around a corner and found himself face-to-face with Argus Filch.

"Naughty, naughty, naughty... A student out of bed," muttered Filch, grabbing hold on Peter's wrist before he could run off. "Come with me, you little sneak."