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BOOM!
The street ruptured. Houses crumpled. Lumps of tarmac and brick flew in all directions. Smoke filled the air, seeping into sewers and pipes exposed by the blast. Muggles ran, screaming and shouting, calling out for their relatives and friends. Chaos fell upon Godric's Hollow as the afternoon sunlight was lost to airborne dust.
Sirius stood, mouth agape as he watched Peter lower Voldemort's wand, the dark mark on his arm visible but fading. He could not comprehend what had just happened. Peter, who was always a loyal friend. Peter, who he himself had suggested as the Potter's Secret-Keeper. Peter, who had betrayed his friends to the Dark Lord. Peter, who had just blown a street apart after accusing Sirius of murder.
Before his very eyes, Sirius watched his old school friend pick up a shard of broken glass and slash it across his hand. A finger dropped into the wreckage on the ground and with a small pop! Peter transformed into a grubby-looking rat and disappeared into the sewers.
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Peter's claws scratched on the brickwork of the sewers. His whiskers and nose detected every foul smell. When Sirius had arrived, he'd had no choice but to fake his own death. He had betrayed all of his friends and the Dark Lord was gone - beaten by a child. He would be sent to Azkaban. He would have to go into hiding.
As a rat he could go anywhere - nobody besides Sirius, who would be blamed for the murders, Remus, who was considered unreliable as a Werewolf and James, who was now dead, knew that he was an illegal animagus - but he needed to stay within the Magic world. He needed to be somewhere he could hear news of the Dark Lord. He needed to find a family that would take him in as a rat and keep him informed.
He wandered through the pipes, too scared to surface. He had no idea where he was in the pitch blackness that consumed the pipeways. Now and then he heard voices echoing down from muggle toilets or basins - children saying goodnight to their parents, parents discussing the recent gas explosion that killed 13 people, one being the poor man who was blown to bits with only his finger remaining.
He scuttled further and further, right through the night until his tiny paws could carry him no more. He needed food and a drink - the filthy sewage water would do his insides no good. Finding a grate leading into a river, he emerged back into the morning sunrise and fled into a field of long grass.
Before long he heard children's voices.
"No Percy, you're too young to play Quidditch."
"Go home, Percy. You might get hit by the Bludger."
Peter's ears pricked up at the mention of the Wizarding sport - perhaps he had found his refuge already! In the distance he could see a slightly ramshackle house that could only be standing with the aid of magic. He began scurrying towards the house, tail flailing behind him, taking great bounds, when suddenly:
"GOT DE SNITCH, GOT DE SNITCH!"
Peter found himself encased in the small hands of a skinny young boy with flaming red hair. He could see two other boys, also with red hair though slightly older in age, flying on tatty brooms and throwing a Quaffle to one another. The smaller boy gripped Peter by the tail and swung him around above his head, running towards his brothers.
"I GOT DE SNITCH!"
The older boys landed heavily.
"Percy, that's not the Snitch. That's a rat."
"Eww, disgusting. Drop it, Percy, you don't where it's been!"
"No. My rat." The small boy clutched Peter to his chest and stuck his bottom lip out. One of the older boys knelt in front of Percy and peeled one of his hands from around Peter.
"Percy, he's filthy. He's a wild rat. Look he's all dirty and scabby."
Peter took his chance and ran up the little boys arm to perch on his shoulder. He couldn't take the chance of the older boy throwing him in the river. He tickled the little boys freckled cheeks with his whiskers, making him laugh.
"Scabbers! Scabbers! My Scabbers!" Percy laughed, and began a waddling run towards the house. Looking back behind him Peter saw the older boys shrug to one another and launch back into the air on their brooms.
Still clinging to the toddlers shoulders, he surveyed the surroundings of the kitchen inside the house. Pots and pans were cleaning themselves in the sink and knives were chopping and dicing vegetables on the sideboard. A plump woman who looked heavily pregnant walked into the room, carrying another infant in her arms.
"Percy, darling what is all this racket about?"
"Scabbers!" Percy shouted, thrusting the rat towards his Mother with a grin on his face. "My Scabbers!"
The woman shrieked and two smaller boys, also with flaming red hair, toddled into the kitchen to see what the noise was about. They grinned with glee at the sight of Peter and the rat.
"Wat, Wat!" They both shouted, jumping around. "Keepies?" They looked at their mother with big, watery brown eyes and Percy grasped Peter back to his chest.
The mother looked a little disgusted but called out, "Arthur, your sons have found a rat. A scabby, filthy old thing. Come clean it up and find an old owl cage for it."
Resting happily in the small boys’ hand, nibbling on some cabbage that the twin boys had stolen from the sideboard, Peter surveyed his new family. Yes, they would do nicely. A large Wizarding family would easily know the Wizarding gossip. He would enjoy his life as a rat, waiting for the Dark Lord to rise again. Waiting for his chance to redeem himself.