The Marauders: Year Seven Part One

Find the Tricksters

For the life of him, James Potter couldn't figure out what happened to his watch. "I had it on," he said, remembering checking the time at the Auror Centre for Training when they'd been leaving for Diagon Alley, and he dragged Lily Evans all the way back to Fortescue's to check if Jasper Odair had found it anywhere after they'd left, but Jasper hadn't seen any watches at all, not to mention watches with Mickey Mouse on the face of them. He did promise James, though that he'd send him an owl the moment he found it, if he did. James put in similar inquiries to all of the shops in Diagon Alley that they'd visited that day before he noticed it was missing while sitting at the Leaky Cauldron, sharing a pint of Butterbeer with Lily Evans.

James dreaded telling his mum and dad - especially his dad - that he'd lost the watch, so he made sure to keep his sleeves low on his arms that night at dinner. "We've got to go and find another one somehow," he told Sirius that night, as James, Sirius, and Remus sat on the floor of Remus's old bedroom, taking it in turns to play wizard chess. It was James and Sirius against Remus - and somehow they were still losing. "I've got to replace it before they notice. Would love to know where it went though."

"You bloody hated that watch anyway," Sirius said, watching as one of his pieces was violently knocking one of Remus's pieces off the board. "Maybe you should just tell them and make them get you a better watch that isn't so ridiculous."

"Checkmate," Remus murmured, making the deadly move on the board.

"The fuck - HOW?" Sirius cried.

Even though Peter had the watch, he didn't dare to do what he had to. He stopped answering his friends' inquiries altogether, hiding the mirror in the bottom of his Hogwarts trunk. He wanted to hang out with them - and some nights, he could hear James calling his name from between all his books and robes and broken quills and he would cry, laying on the bed, staring at the trunk, shaking from the burning of his wrist. He knew he didn't have much longer before the Dark Lord would have had enough, but he was frightened. Whatever Peter had told himself about the watch being not a big deal, he knew deep down that it had to be. It had to be or else Voldemort would not be after it in the first place.

Finally, a day and a half after stealing the watch from James in Flourish & Blott's, Peter could take it no more. The burning in his wrist was so strong that he had a fever and a sweat had broken out over his forehead... He fell out of the bed and crawled across the room. The drawer of his desk was shaking, too, and when he pulled it opened, there was James's watch, laying flat in the otherwise empty space. He grabbed hold on it, and, tears in his eyes, he headed downstairs.

"I'm - I'm going out - for ... a bit," Peter stammered, barely standing upright in the doorway of the kitchen.

It spoke volumes for the attention his parents gave that they did not notice the state he was in.

"Be back in time for dinner," his father barely muttered.

Peter nodded, and went outside. He stumbled down the sidewalk, his tears freely flowing over his round cheeks now, sick to his stomach and trying very hard not to be sick all over. He clutched the watch in his fist as he made his way to the playground, and looked around, making sure there weren't any kids outside to see whatever might be about to happen, didn't want them knowing that he was communicating with Voldemort, didn't want them thinking he was dark...

He wasn't dark.

He wasn't.

Was he?

And Peter cried all the harder.

Convinced he was alone, he took a deep breath, trying to steady himself and focus like he needed to. 

CRACK!