It is amazing how much junk Albus managed to accumulate that used to belong to other people. Shaking his head, Severus Snape clears out a cupboard that holds a box marked ‘Black Family – better not to look’, a set of leather-bound books with the name ‘Marlene McKinnon’ inscribed on the title page of each, a set of flowerpots all tied up in a neat bundle with a label that says ‘To Albus, Merry Christmas, from Frank, Alice and Neville’, a scroll that is sealed with the Dearborn family crest, a floppy straw hat with daisies around the brim that he vaguely remembers Dorcas Meadowes wearing to Order meetings before the Dark Lord killed her, and a set of small vials filled with a silvery liquid and labelled simply ‘Pettigrew’.

Puzzled, Severus sits back on his heels and studies the vials curiously. There are two mysteries here. First of all, why does Albus have anything belonging to Peter Pettigrew? He can understand items from families that have died out – the mangy mutt Sirius Black was the last living Black, Caradoc Dearborn was an only child who had no family of his own when he disappeared, and Dorcas Meadowes had a younger sister who was also killed some years later. But Pettigrew’s mother was still alive at the time he was supposedly killed by Black, if Severus is remembering correctly – everything he owned should have been returned to her.

And secondly . . . these look like pensieve memories. What memories could Pettigrew have had back in those days that would have necessitated him keeping them safe and away from himself? And how did Albus end up with them?

Severus glances up at Albus’ portrait, but it is empty. Albus is no doubt off somewhere meddling in some other poor blighter’s life. Still, he can at least satisfy part of his curiosity. After all these years, it’s not as if Pettigrew could object.

Lurching to his feet, Severus moves across the office to where the Headmaster’s pensieve is shut away. Tapping a certain sequence on the cabinet door with his fingers and whispering the password – Lily died for him – he removes the pensieve and carries it over to his desk, placing it on top of a pile of papers sent to him by the Ministry. He doesn’t care if anything gets spilt on the papers; there isn’t anything important about them.

Selecting a vial at random, he uncorks it and pours it into the pensieve. Allowing it time to settle into the clay bowl, Severus then lowers his head until he feels the familiar sensation of falling.

He lands in a room that is so sickeningly crimson and gold it can only be the Gryffindor common room. Bright sunshine floods through the windows, and yet the room is strangely empty, so Severus can only guess that it is either the middle of a weekday and everyone is in class, or it is the weekend, and everyone is outside enjoying the sun.

A sniffle comes from behind him. He jerks around to face the direction it came from, and then freezes, his heart leaping up into his throat. Curled up in one of the overstuffed armchairs in a corner near the fire is Lily Evans, her friend Alice Longbottom (although, of course, she hadn’t married Frank yet in this time) sitting on the arm, stroking Lily’s hair every so often in what appears to be a vain attempt at comfort.

“Oh, Alice, why would he say such a thing to me?” Lily sobs.

“Because he’s been hanging around Mulciber and Avery too long,” Alice says, frankly. Then she scowls. “And because he’s just a stupid boy.”

Severus’ blood runs cold. Obviously this is very shortly after their disastrous Defence Against the Dark Arts O.W.L., shortly after he ruined everything by striking out at Lily and allowing that unforgivable word to leave his mouth. He should never have let his anger and embarrassment get the better of him like that, no matter how much the Marauders bullied him . . .

That thought reminds Severus that this is Pettigrew’s memory he is in. Pettigrew must be somewhere nearby, but the two girls obviously think they are alone in the common room. Spinning around again, he searches every nook and cranny. Finally, he discovers a large rat, huddled in a dark corner near the portrait entrance. Why is Pettigrew up here, sneaking, when he should be outside somewhere with the rest of the Marauders, crowing about their victory over Snivellus?

Severus frowns to himself as Alice finally convinces Lily to go outside with her. Once Pettigrew is sure they’re gone, he creeps out from his hiding place and shimmers upwards into his human form. He has a very strange look on his face – even for him – a mixture of gleeful and contempt. Wringing his hands together, he stumbles off towards the staircase that must lead up to the dormitories, and the memory starts going grey, before fading to black.

Severus finds himself back in his office, straightening up away from the pensieve. He is still confused. Why would Pettigrew need to remove that memory from his head? And why would someone consider it worth keeping?

Scooping the memory back into its vial, Severus writes a quick label for it, just a few words that will remind him if he needs to find the memory again later. He then places it to one side, away from the ones that he has yet to see. He glances up again at Albus’ portrait, which is still empty. Then again, maybe it wouldn’t be able to help him anyway. Albus might not have known what it was he had. It appears that a lot of items were sent to him after people passed on. He had probably been too busy to look at everything.

Pouring the next vial into the pensieve, Severus considers it as it settles. This memory strand has a slightly darker tint than the previous one did. He wonders if this has any bearing on the type of memory it is. Cautiously, he tips his head forward and falls in.

This time, he lands in the library. Surprisingly, considering just whose memory this is, he is in the Restricted Section. And – judging by the clock that he can see on the far wall – during the daytime, no less. Severus finds this very strange. He can’t imagine Pettigrew asking any of the Professors for a pass, nor them granting one. And it would be the height of folly to try and sneak into the Restricted Section when Madam Pince is hovering, ready to swoop down on anyone who is not following the rules of the library.

And unauthorised access to the Restricted Section is definitely not following the rules.

Severus glances around himself. Surely this journey must have been precipitated by Black and Potter. This is just the kind of thing they’d enjoy attempting to get away with. But, unless they’re somewhere nearby underneath Potter’s Invisibility Cloak, there seems to be no sign of either Potter or Black.

Of course, there’s no sign of Pettigrew, either.

“Here, what d’you think about this one?” he hears a voice ask from somewhere nearby. It does not sound like Pettigrew. Severus strides toward the voice, secure in the knowledge that the people involved cannot see him now.

“Nah, too good for ‘em,” another voice replies, and now Severus’ stride falters. That voice he remembers. Evan Rosier. So his companion must be either Mulciber or Avery, or perhaps Wilkes. The four of them had been inseparable. “We want something that will make them think twice about encroaching on our world.”

Alarmed now, even if there is nothing he can do about it, Severus turns a corner, and realises just what part of the Restricted Section the four Slytherin boys are in. Not just the Dark Arts section, but the Black Arts section. Here, there are books holding spells that have no justification for use at all. Even attempting one of the milder spells can lose a person their soul if they are not careful . . . if they have one to lose at all.

Rosier, Avery, Mulciber and Wilkes are critically examining the books, which are not bound with leather, but skin. One book is even surrounded by a cage of bones, which are obviously human, but too small to be an adult’s. Severus desperately hopes this particular section is not still at Hogwarts. He resolves to find out immediately, and remove it if necessary. Perhaps he can claim he is making a gift of it to the Dark Lord.

A small sound from the other side of the bookcase reminds Severus that Pettigrew is here somewhere. His old roommates appear not to have heard anything. He leaves them to it and goes in search of the rat.

He finds Pettigrew in the Mind section. What in Merlin’s name can Pettigrew be up to, Severus wonders. Perhaps he is looking for something to cast on himself? If so, he obviously failed, since the Pettigrew that Severus has seen just recently is as useless and worthless as ever.

Pettigrew clambers onto a nearby desk and reaches up for a book that is bound in dark-green silk, edged in solid silver. Based on the colours, Severus can’t help but wonder if Salazar Slytherin himself wrote it. Pettigrew is having trouble actually touching the book – it is buzzing, and blurring as it appears to jump around all over the shelf, making it hard to judge where it is to physically take hold of it. Pettigrew is obviously getting angry, as well as flustered and embarrassed, and he snaps out a phrase that Severus does not hear. Instantly, the book stills with a tiny squeak, and Pettigrew finally grabs it. He glares at the book as he clambers back off the desk, and slams the book down on the desktop. The book appears to sigh, and falls open obediently.

For some reason, Severus is unable to get close enough to see what book it is that Pettigrew is studying. He can’t tell if it’s something gone wrong with the memory, or whether that particular book doesn’t want anybody else finding it. Eventually, however, Pettigrew seems to find what he wanted, and he shoves the book back onto the nearest shelf, nowhere near where he first found it. The book shakes itself, irritably, and blurs back into position on the higher shelf.

Pettigrew, meanwhile, is hurrying away from the Mind section, heading for the entrance to the Restricted Section. He passes two bookcases away from the Slytherin boys, and pauses, shrinking down into his rat form before creeping closer. Severus’ old school friends are still looking for various spells. From their conversation, they are looking for spells to hurt Muggles, or perhaps even Muggleborns.

Severus watches as Pettigrew scuttles backwards, and presses a small paw to the spine of a book. The book floats down to open itself in front of the rat, who brushes it with his whiskers. Pages flip, and then, with a nudge of Pettigrew’s nose, the book rises into the air, and floats over the bookcase to land with a thud! in front of the Slytherins.

“Look!” Avery cries, grabbing hold of the book. “Oh, this one is perfect!”

“Let me see,” Mulciber demands, snatching the book from him and scanning the page. He chuckles, and it sends a shiver down Severus’ spine. There is nothing good about that laugh. “Oh, yes. This one will do for that McDonald cow.” The boys huddle around the book and begin whispering.

Severus is tugged away from them as Pettigrew exits the library.

He blinks, and finds himself back in his office again. Staggering over to the chair behind his desk, he falls into it and rubs a hand over his face. Dear Merlin, that must have been the spell cast on Mary McDonald, one of Lily’s Gryffindor friends. The poor girl’s insides had been rearranged, so that her vocal cords and digestive tract were reversed. Severus himself had not found that particular ‘prank’ funny in the slightest, but with Lily angry with him, he had not wanted to set himself against his entire House, either.

And now he knows where Avery and Mulciber had found the spell. He would never have guessed that Pettigrew, of all people, would have known it, or where to find it, never mind actually show it to anyone in Slytherin.

It appears the Dark Lord turned Pettigrew well before anyone suspected.

Removing and labelling this memory, Severus spends some time staring at the remaining vial. This, too, is darker than the others, and he is unsure whether his curiosity is deep enough for him to stand seeing whatever it may be.

Eventually, he persuades himself that if it was anything approaching the activities of a Dark Revel, the memory strand would be much, much darker than it is. And considering how many Revels Severus has been forced to attend – and pretend to enjoy – he can surely cope with this.

He discovers himself back in the Gryffindor common room. Once again, it is all but empty. Pettigrew is slumped in a chair near the dormitory staircase, pretending to be deeply absorbed in a thick Charms book, but in actual fact he is peering intensely over the top of it at the figure hunched over the desk underneath the window that overlooks the Quidditch pitch.

Once again, the figure is Lily Evans. She is scribbling madly on a piece of parchment, but it appears that whatever she is attempting to write is not going well, as she frequently huffs in exasperation, scratches out a word or a sentence, or simply screws the parchment up into a ball, tosses it over her shoulder towards the fire, and starts again.

“Argh!” Lily suddenly utters a growl of frustration, and buries her head in her arms on the desk. “Why is this so hard?”

“P-p-problem, Lily?” Pettigrew asks, and for a horrible moment, his slight stutter reminds Severus of Quirrell from six years before.

Lily jerks upright as though she had forgotten she wasn’t alone – or maybe she hadn’t noticed Pettigrew in the first place. She sighs when she sees who it is.

“I’m trying to write a letter to Severus,” she says, and Severus’ heart practically stops beating. If this memory is after their O.W.L.s, he never received any letter from her. “But I just can’t get the wording right.”

“What do you have so far?” Pettigrew asks, and moves closer to where Lily is sitting. Severus notices that his book is held oddly – perfectly level in front of Pettigrew, the top edge of it facing Lily, not quite closed, as though Pettigrew has used a quill as a bookmark.

Or is hiding his wand, Severus realises with a jolt! He is swamped with panic, before realising that whatever Pettigrew does – did – it obviously doesn’t harm Lily that much. She was not in the Hospital Wing for any length of time during the remainder of their fifth year, nor any of their sixth.

Lily sighs and gathers up the scraps of parchment in front of her. She clears her throat and begins to read out loud. “Dear Severus,” she begins. “First of all, I want to say that I am still disgusted by that word that you used. I won’t sully myself by saying it again – we both know what word I mean. I honestly don’t know how you could even think of calling me that. I thought you were better than that, Sev. I thought you believed all that nonsense about blood purity was just that – nonsense.

“But if you can call me that, then maybe I don’t know you as well as I thought I did. And that hurts, Sev. Because if you lied to me about that, then what else have you lied about?

“I know I said I was never going to talk to you again. But I think we do need to talk. And maybe you’ll be able to come up with one hell of a good reason for using that word. Notice I said reason, not excuse!

“I do miss you, Severus. Or at least, I miss the person I thought you were. I hope you still are that person, somewhere inside.

“If you agree to speak with me, I’ll be by the Lake, at our spot, on Saturday, during the last Quidditch match. Nobody will miss us then . . .”

Lily’s voice trails off into a wistful sigh. Unseen behind her, Pettigrew’s face twists into a disgusted grimace.

“I see why you’re having problems,” he murmurs, quietly. “But don’t worry, it’s not like Snivellus will ever get to read the thing.” His wand is suddenly poking out from the end of the book, aimed at the back of Lily’s head. Severus attempts to jump in between them, but it is a fruitless endeavour. Nothing he can do can change this now.

“Obliviate totalis familiaris Snape!” Pettigrew suddenly says, sharply, and a flash of bright light envelops Lily. She slumps forward onto the desk with a sigh. Pettigrew snatches up all the scraps of parchment and throws them into the fire.

Severus finds himself back in his office, reeling away from the pensieve with a choked cry. He ricochets off a cabinet beside his desk, and his knees buckle, dumping him to the floor, where he kneels, his face buried in his hands, gasping for air.

Lily had been going to forgive him! Lily had wanted to meet him, to make up with him. All these years, he had thought that he had destroyed everything himself, that something in him – whatever it was that had caused that word to slip out – had disgusted Lily so much that she had turned her back on all their years of friendship.

And instead it was Pettigrew! Pettigrew had stolen all the warmth Lily had ever felt towards Severus – obliviated it from her mind and her heart. Severus can’t wrap his mind around it. He’s fairly certain Pettigrew didn’t like Lily that way. Was he perhaps hoping to gain favour with Potter by removing Severus from the picture? Except it appears that Pettigrew had already been turned at that point, so why . . .

Severus suddenly wonders if the Dark Lord instructed Pettigrew to do it because of him. His attachment to Lily had been well known, and it was only her friendship that had prevented the Dark Lord from successfully recruiting him – once she’d withdrawn that friendship, it had been ridiculously easy for the other Slytherins to swoop in and draw him in.

Severus shudders deeply. This is all the grief he can allow himself, despite the fact he wishes to rail and scream and cry. The Dark Lord believes he got over his ‘infatuation’ with the ‘mudblood’ once he learned that she’d rather die to protect her baby than live for him. Severus can never let on that his love for the red-haired girl burns just as brightly inside him now as it did twenty years ago.

He staggers to his feet. He will deeply occlude seeing those memories, so that he all but forgets that he has, then he will dispose of Pettigrew’s memories. Goodness knows why Albus kept them anyway.