Misses Americana || Golden Trio Era

33-The Lost Marauder

"PETER!" a familiar female voice reverberates off the walls of a massive windowless room. There's a draft coming from somewhere, but it's impossible to tell where or if it's pleasant or not.

Suddenly, there's a strange flash of a moving photograph. Four boys standing and laughing arm-in-arm in front of Hogwarts. The picture is crumpled and wet. The shortest boy's face has been burned off, a permanent hole in the picture. A permanent hole in a life.

"PETER!" a collection of voices hisses. All grown men. Their tone reveals the sting of a recent betrayal.

The woman's voice resurfaces once again, calmer this time around. Persuasive and reassuring, even. "Peter. I can promise you great things. You have access to just what I need. You can help me and I can do the same for you. You will never be overlooked again."

"What do you want with me?!" another voice, weak and wavering, squeaks into the dark room. Everything is through this man's eyes.

The disembodied voice hums playfully, content that she got a response of interest. "Three things. A map. A child. And information."

"About what?"

"You mean who. The Quadruplex, Peter. The very bane of the Wizarding World's existence."

"The little girls who killed the Dark Lord?"

"My dear Wormtail." The lady chuckles as her voice circles the room, casting undeniable fear into the man standing alone in the room. "Those little girls ruined everything, and that's what you should concern yourself with. We are the Defecapo."

At that moment, light flashes into the room, illuminating a few dozen, iron-masked figures. Once the light goes, so do the figures. The man is left alone in the room once more, his heart racing miles a second.

The lady's sonorous, cackling voice grows louder with each sentence. "We are the servants of the Dark Lord, dedicated to undoing the damage done by four, silly, little girls who had the audacity to mess with matters that they did not understand. We, wizards and witches, were robbed of a new world. One that would have made the world better. We shall bring the Dark Lord back. You shall be rewarded for your service greatly."

"I... I don't want anything to do with this."

"Oh," the lady sighs exasperatedly. "How... unfortunate for you, Wormtail."

"How do you know that name?! What's that supposed to mean?!"

The lady ignores his first question and proceeds as she wished. "It's just... well, don't feel guilty, dear. You wouldn't be the first to deny our... generous offer. Not many people receive this honor, you know."

"What happens to those who decline it?"

"To put it nicely, they meet a very... sorry end. Filled with pain and, inevitably, death."

There's silence for a while as the man's breath hitches in his throat and he considers his options. Eventually he breaks the silence. "What—" he chokes on his words. He coughs away the apparent fear and manages to ask, "What do you want me to do and when do you want me to do it?"

Black fog takes the scene away until three other men and a woman with fiery red hair corner the original man in some sort of nursery. The woman is red-faced and sobbing, holding a black-haired child close to her chest as if she's protecting him from the entire world. All of the men wear identical shame-inducing faces and the only noise he can hear is a screaming toddler and his own heartbeat. Then, he actually dares to speak and face the people he used to call his friends. "I'm so sorry, Prongs."