#torder

Mundungus Fletcher was born the illegitimate son of a trashy British pureblood wizard, and a French muggleborn witch. They met when he was on a years-long business trip for the ministry, and when they discovered she was pregnant she moved back to Britain with him. After returning home to a disapproving family, Fletcher’s father abandoned his mum before Fletcher was even born. His mum did her best to manage without him but despite her efforts they were poor, and she became sick. She died when Fletcher was seven, and from then on he grew up in a wixen orphanage. He didn’t remember ever knowing his father’s name, and couldn’t remember much about his mother either. Fletcher learned quickly not to put too much trust in any person, that it was safest to think only of his own needs. No matter where he went, he always felt displaced. The orphanage never felt like home, it was never able to feel permanent in any way, with other kids regularly coming and going. He was enrolled in Hogwarts through a random lottery offered by the orphanage, but even after he was sorted and settled into his dorm room, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he didn’t belong where he was. He couldn’t trust anyone other than himself to take care of him. He caused a lot of trouble during his time at the school, and he was inept at his studies. He failed out in the middle of his seventh year, choosing to drop out rather than take any more remedial studies. As hard as he’d tried, his mind had never taken well to schoolwork. He didn’t return to the orphanage, instead setting out on his own. From the age of seventeen, Fletcher’s life was solidly lived on the streets. Resourceful, small and quick on his feet as he was, and with a keen eye for valuable items, he found himself adept in the acquisition and trade of illegal goods. He crashed on friend’s couches and in the back rooms of various businesses who somehow managed to trust him while he worked on renovating a busted old train car that had happened into his possession, moving into it immediately once it was finished.

People who ran in the same circles as Fletcher knew how selfish and unreliable he was. Early on in his time on the streets, he’d had a partner who he had loved. He had claimed that he would do anything to keep them safe, but when it came down to it he threw them under the bus to save his own skin. They were caught doing a B&E job on a pureblood family estate that should have been empty at the time, with minimal magic in place to prevent any theft. When confronted, Fletcher ran. His partner was killed, a murder which would never see justice after the pureblood claimed it as self defense against a violent burglary. It was by sheer dumb luck that Albus Dumbledore happened to be investigating the property for what would later become the Order, and that he happened upon the scene in time to save Fletcher from meeting the same fate, or being thrown into Azkaban for it. After being saved by Dumbledore, Fletcher then owed the man his life.

Alastor knew what was expected of him from the moment he was born. He was a protector, much like his parents before him, and their parents before them. He was to be strong, but never malicious, harsh, but not unkind. Help when help was needed but never expect anything in return. Be cautious and vigilant. It had been drilled into his head since the moment he opened his eyes. As the eldest son, Alastor took his role as a protector very seriously, especially towards his younger sister.

But when he failed to protect her, when Skoll had attacked her at only aged six, Alastor wasn't sure if he would ever be able to protect anybody. It was the most difficult day of his life, but nobody could be upset with him. What kind of eight year old would be able to protect somebody from a werewolf, anyway?

Hogwarts was an interesting experience for him, anybody who knew Alastor would have assumed he'd end up in Gryffindor. The hat wasn't entirely sure where to put him. Brave, courageous and bold like a Gryffindor, but ultimately his loyalty, dedication and hard-working spirit shone through, and he'd ended up in Hufflepuff. It wasn't what he expected, but he embraced it wholeheartedly and was a very proud Hufflepuff. It's what his sister would have wanted from him. Alastor lacked friends, he was a bit socially awkward and extremely studious, always opting to be in the library over attending quidditch games or after parties. His lack of friends didn't mean he wasn't well respected, though. He was the person to seek out when being bullied, Alastor would stand up for anybody who couldn't stand up for themselves.

Alastor had received Exceeds Expectations in all of his N.E.W.T.s and immediately joined the Auror Training Program. Despite earning top grades and being known to be incredible at defensive magic, he couldn't help but to feel as though he still wasn't good enough. That day replayed itself in his head every time he closed his eyes. But he had a job to do, it was his job to protect the innocent, it always had been.

He served the Ministry as an Auror for nearly a decade before the war broke out. Although it had officially started in 1970, the war had been going on much longer, in his own opinion. There had always been a war between the pureblooded elitists and anybody they felt were below them. Alastor had put away many Dark Wixen, risking his life nearly daily, losing a leg, and eventually becoming head Auror. The previous department head had spent most of his time behind the desk and ordering others around. Alastor vowed to be different, wanting to show why he'd been selected as department head by always being out on the field and doing what he could to protect citizens.

One of the original Order Members, Alastor was responsible for putting away the most Death Eaters, followed closely behind with Alice and Frank. It wasn't a competition but seeing the growing numbers was quite motivating to himself as well as the other aurors in the office. He spent as much time as possible hunting down Death Eaters, choosing not to kill unless absolutely necessary. He'd come close to killing Evan Rosier after he disfigured Alastor's face, but Edmond Wilkes ended up in the way, taking the hit while Evan apparate away. It wasn't long after until the horcruxes were destroyed, ending the war and thus allowing Evan to walk away freely.

At a young age Mary had that inkling feeling that she didn't necessarily fit in. Not quite sure what it meant at the time, but as the years passed, it became evident on what made her stand out. There was magic in her and to some, it appeared to be a death sentence; at least that is what it felt like to her. She hated the sneers and muttered slurs that mocked her, despite having done nothing wrong, boiling down to the simple fact she was muggleborn.

Her parents were simple, her father falling in love with his college girlfriend, it was love at first sight. It was a love story that she could only hope to have one day of her own. Naive and innocent, believing the best in everyone until she attended Hogwarts. The first year, a blur that left her in a daze, but it was the friendships that were bonded that made the experience worthwhile. The second year, shattered her into a million pieces, a part of her tainted by evil that lingered with the rising of the Dark Lord's power.

A night that haunts her, waking up in sweats, despite convincing herself that she had moved on, was the night of her attack by Micah Mucliber. The excruciating pain that hit her suddenly, and unexpectedly, in her chest, tore at her skin, burning flesh. All she remembered was the sudden hit, pain and then everything went black. Her parents wanted the Mucilier head for what was done, but no justice would come for them. Her parents were adamant to keep Mary home, she refused, and once healed, a scar left permanently across her chest, she was back in classes.  

From there, she never did walk the halls alone, always a friend at her side, and she kept to her very tight circle up until the day it came from them to finish at Hogwarts. With the increased pressure with the rise of the war, Mary took a stance with the Order, wanting to protect those like her from the monsters out there. She continued her education to become a healer and when the war finally did break out, she did not back down. Now with it over, victorious that the Dark Lord is gone, and she felt that relief hit her; that she was free. 

Molly Prewett was welcomed into the world on a chilly autumn evening, October 30, 1949, in a picturesque wizarding cottage nestled in the heart of the English countryside. Her birth brought an indescribable joy to Charles and Eleanor Prewett, who had longed for a child to share their magical world. Molly was not just their firstborn; she embodied their hopes and dreams.

The Prewett family name resonated throughout the wizarding world, renowned for their prodigious talent in magic, particularly in the intricate arts of charms and enchantments. Molly's father, Charles Prewett was celebrated as a Charms Master extraordinaire. His lectures at the Wizarding Academy were legendary, and his scholarly pursuits often took him to distant corners of the magical world. His knowledge and expertise in charm work were revered, making him a respected figure amongst his peers.

On the other hand, Eleanor Prewett, Molly's mother, was a skilled potion-maker whose concoctions were sought after by potionmasters and healers alike. Her delicate touch and intuitive understanding of ingredients made her a wizarding artisan, and her potions graced the shelves of apothecaries across Britain. Eleanor's love for potion-making was only surpassed by her love for her family.

From an early age, Charles and Eleanor instilled in their children a profound sense of duty, responsibility, and the unshakable importance of family bonds. Their charming cottage was always filled with the aroma of brewing potions and the whispers of incantations. Molly grew up surrounded by magical tomes, cauldrons, and enchanted objects that made their home feel like a living, breathing extension of the wizarding world.

Molly's early years were also graced by the presence of her younger twin brothers, Gideon and Fabian Prewett, born a few years after her. These rambunctious twins possessed an insatiable appetite for life and an utterly infectious penchant for mischief. Despite Molly's initial reluctance to partake in their wild escapades, she was drawn into their world of exploration and adventure.

The siblings shared an unbreakable bond that went beyond ordinary family bonds. Together, they learned the value of loyalty as they defended each other from playground bullies and imaginary creatures lurking in the woods. They discovered the importance of standing up for what was right when they uncovered a forbidden charm accidentally practiced by some older students. These shared experiences, filled with laughter, lessons, and a touch of mayhem, played a crucial role in shaping Molly's character.

In this enchanting and loving environment, Molly Prewett grew into a young witch with a heart as warm as her family's hearth and fierce as her father's most potent charms. Her journey from this idyllic childhood to becoming Molly Weasley, a central figure in the fight against the darkness that threatened the wizarding world, was one paved with love, resilience, and a commitment to the values she had learned from her extraordinary family.

Growing up in the Prewett household was not without its challenges. The First Wizarding War was on the horizon, and tensions within the wizarding world were escalating. Being well-versed in the political climate, Molly's parents taught their children the importance of fighting against dark forces and standing up for those who could not defend themselves.

Molly was filled with excitement and apprehension as she embarked on her journey to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. In its wise and ancient wisdom, the Sorting Hat found her a perfect fit for Gryffindor, the House known for its courage, bravery, and chivalry values. It was within the scarlet and gold banners of Gryffindor that Molly's character continued to flourish.

Academically, Molly continued to excel, just as she had back home. Her proficiency in Charms and Defense Against the Dark Arts became even more apparent at Hogwarts, and she quickly earned a reputation as a student who could always be counted on to master spells with precision and courage. Her determination to protect herself and her friends was evident in her dueling skills, which she honed tirelessly during her years at the school.

Molly's kindness and welcoming demeanor made her a beloved figure among her peers. She had a unique talent for bringing people together, often organizing impromptu gatherings in the Gryffindor common room or lending a sympathetic ear to those who needed it. Her innate ability to create a sense of belonging made her the go-to person for advice and camaraderie. 

But amid the bustling life of Hogwarts, there was another aspect of Molly's identity that was slowly becoming clear to her: her sexuality. As she grew older and more self-aware, Molly realized that she was attracted to both boys and girls. This discovery came gradually as she navigated through friendships and early romantic interests. Molly found herself drawn to individuals of all genders, and her heart didn't discriminate based on gender.

During her fifth year, Molly had a particularly enlightening and heartwarming experience with a close friend, Abigail Blackwood, another fellow Gryffindor. Their friendship had always been characterized by openness and trust. Then, one evening, as they sat by the fireplace in the common room, the topic of relationships and attraction came up. Abigail, who identified as bisexual, shared her experiences and the beauty of embracing one's authentic self.

As their conversation deepened, Molly realized that her feelings for Abigail were more than friendship. They shared a connection that transcended the boundaries of gender, and it became clear that their hearts were entwined. They soon embarked on a loving and supportive relationship, which became a source of comfort and strength for both. Molly found solace in Abigail's embrace and the realization that she wasn't alone in her feelings. The acceptance and understanding she received from her friend-turned-lover made it easier for her to embrace her identity as a bisexual witch. Their relationship blossomed, creating a safe space for Molly to fully explore her emotions and desires.

From that moment on, Molly felt more comfortable with herself and her attractions. She became an advocate for acceptance and diversity within the wizarding community and a living example of love transcending societal norms. This aspect of Molly's life, her journey of self-discovery, acceptance, and the love she shared with Abigail would later inform her commitment to inclusivity and love in her role as a mother and a member of the wizarding world. It was yet another layer of her character, a testament to her capacity for empathy, her unwavering belief in embracing one's true self, and the beauty of love in all its forms.

After a year of a loving and supportive relationship with Abigail Blackwood, Molly faced a difficult truth. The intense connection they once shared began to wane, and it became apparent that their paths were diverging. It was a heart-wrenching decision, but Molly and Abigail agreed it was time to part ways. Their breakup was amicable, filled with tears and bittersweet farewells, but it was also a testament to their mutual respect for each other's journey.

During the following period, Molly leaned on her friendships for support, particularly her deep bond with Arthur Weasley. Arthur had been her best friend for years, a confidant with whom she had shared countless dreams, aspirations, and laughter. They had grown up together, faced the challenges of adolescence side by side, celebrated each other's victories, and consoled each other in times of loss.

As Molly navigated the complexities of her post-breakup emotions, she found comfort in Arthur's unwavering presence. He was not just her best friend; he was her anchor. Over time, their friendship evolved into something deeper and more profound. They discovered that their love and understanding for each other had transcended the boundaries of friendship.

One evening, under the starry skies of Hogwarts, with the scent of flowers in bloom and the magic of the wizarding world all around them, Arthur finally mustered the courage to express his feelings to Molly. He confessed that he had fallen deeply in love with her, and he had been harboring these emotions for years. Molly, touched by his sincerity and overwhelmed by her own realization that her heart had found its true match, reciprocated his feelings.

Their love story was like a phoenix rising from the ashes of past relationships, and it was as beautiful and enduring as the magic that surrounded them. Molly and Arthur Weasley became a couple, bound not only by their love for each other but also by their shared values, dreams, and the enduring friendship that laid the foundation for their love.

Shortly after Molly and Arthur Weasley officially became a couple, they graduated from Hogwarts, leaving behind the cherished halls of Gryffindor House and stepping out into the world as young adults filled with dreams and aspirations.

Molly was drawn to a career that reflected her compassionate nature and desire to impact the wizarding world positively. She decided to pursue a path in social work, focusing on working with disadvantaged children. Her determination to protect and nurture those in need was a driving force behind her decision.

As Molly dedicated herself to her studies and career, she and Arthur's love deepened. Their relationship was filled with shared laughter, dreams of the future, and countless hours spent discussing their plans. On a beautiful spring day, with the Burrow as the backdrop and their closest friends and family in attendance, Molly and Arthur exchanged vows and were married in a heartfelt ceremony.

Their marriage marked the beginning of a new chapter in their lives. Together, they faced the joys and challenges that life had in store for them. They were soon blessed with the arrival of their firstborn, Bill Weasley, who brought immeasurable joy to their lives.

Charlie, Percy, and the mischievous twins, Fred and George, followed rapidly, filling the Burrow with laughter and chaos. Molly and Arthur embraced the chaos with open hearts, raising their children with love, discipline, and the values instilled in them from their childhoods.

As the calendar flipped to January 1980, the Burrow buzzed with excitement again. Molly was expecting another addition to their already bustling household. The prospect of welcoming another child filled their hearts with anticipation and joy. Molly's nurturing nature would undoubtedly extend to this new member of their family, continuing the tradition of love and support that defined the Weasley household.

Dorcas Arden Meadowes was born on a crisp autumn evening to Atticus and Audrey Meadowes. She was a welcome addition to their son, Reginald, and a few years later a third child was born, a daughter named Marin. The Meadowes family was firmly upper middle class, with Atticus working in the Ministry as a barrister in the International Magical Office of Law, and her mother working as a private tutor, employed by plenty of families in London. They lived in a perfectly nice townhouse in the wealthier section of London, and the Meadowes children were provided with plenty of opportunities to learn about different cultures. It had always been important to Atticus and Audrey that their children were well-rounded but never spoiled. Dorcas and her siblings spent hours playing at a nearby park with wixen and muggle children alike. Her parents had always prided that their family was open-minded and accepting of everyone–Audrey’s father had been a muggle, after all, and the children spent plenty of time in the country with her parents. 

She always felt lucky that she had an idyllic childhood and she had no complaints about it. She and her siblings were close and she had plenty of friends growing up. They spent most of their childhood playing in the streets of London or at her grandparent's country house. Dorcas had always been the brave one, the one that they would rely on to come up with the games or to jump into the pond to rescue a lost toy. Her mother always said that Dorcas was too fearless for her own good, but Dorcas never saw it that way. She just did what was needed to be done.

On her eleventh birthday, she received her Hogwarts letter, and she was excited to attend Hogwarts. Dorcas famously had her trunk ready to go in May, a story that her parents often told to their friends at dinner parties, much to her chagrin. That September, Dorcas got to join Reginald on the Hogwarts Express, quite certain that she would join him in Ravenclaw, so it was quite a surprise when the Sorting Hat was placed on her head and almost immediately called out Gryffindor. But Gryffindor fit her in a way that Ravenclaw never would have. In Gryffindor, she made a close group of friends, and she excelled at her classes when she attended them (she was not against skipping class here and there on a particularly beautiful day). 

Her parents had never been the type to hide something from their kids, so she had been aware of the growing tensions in their world from a young age. When war broke out, her father encouraged his kids to do the right thing, whatever that meant for them. For Dorcas it meant joining the Order after graduation. She worked at the Ministry as an obliviator by day and did missions for the Order at night. Sometimes she got tidbits of important information through her work at the Ministry (nobody ever noticed the young girl hanging around), which she always passed along to Dumbledore and the Order. 

In the early fall of 1980 Dorcas went missing. Dorcas had been on an Order mission and when she didn’t show up at the safe house they feared that the Death Eaters had gotten to her. When she didn’t turn up after a few days and no word came from her, she was officially declared missing. Her father blamed himself for what happened, and as the months went on the people closest to her started to fear that she had been killed. But Dorcas wasn’t dead. On the day of her kidnapping, she woke up in a dark dungeon with another girl that was taken out of the dungeon and murdered before she could ever get her name. From that moment on, Dorcas’s life went dark and she was subjected to torture and near starvation. On one occasion she was brought in front of Voldemort himself and she was so sure that that was it, she was going to die. But she didn’t.

The day after Christmas Dorcas was found unconscious in Knockturn Alley and was rushed to St. Mungo’s. When she woke up she told the Aurors about the torture she had endured, but she couldn’t remember faces or identify anybody that had been there. Dorcas couldn’t remember how she had gotten into Knockturn Alley, her memory was hazy. The torture that she had endured nearly broke her. It made her angry and lost and she wasn’t the same person she had been before. She was acting recklessly and Dumbledore told her to sit things out for a little while, heal, and then she could return to the Order.

None of them realized how quickly things would change and the war would end in what felt like the blink of an eye. Dorcas should have been relieved. Her captors would be punished, whoever they were, and Voldemort was dead. She still could hear his voice in her nightmares. But instead of feeling relieved she was angry. Angry that she didn’t get to take part in taking them down, angry that she had been tortured, angry that everyone didn’t seem to understand her. After a particularly bad breakdown that resulted in Dorcas being put on leave at work, her parents sat her down and told her she needed to take a leave from work and get out of England. It was decided that Dorcas and Marin would travel to America to visit some distant relatives and to get to see the world. It was a relief, leaving England.

Alicia Selwyn was born on a sunny day in July. The day was hot, and long, and one that her parents would never forget.  Alice was the youngest of four, and the only girl. One would have thought she would have hated this, but she didn’t. Alice got on really well with her siblings. Being the youngest could have easily led to Alice being spoiled, but whilst she never really had to wait to get anything, her parents didn’t allow her to get spoiled. They ensured that she was grateful, kind and respectful. But Alice was far from the lady-like pureblood little girl that most traditional families probably wanted. Alice was boisterous, loud, and free spirited. 

Of course her parents tried to get her to behave, and be more of a lady at society events, but even that was hard. Everyone knew what Alice was like, and she struggled to fit into that box that her world wanted her to be. She knew from a young age that she was different from the others, that she didn’t quite fit in. Whilst the other pureblooded girls her age liked to sit and drink tea, paint, and sew, Alice much preferred to be in the garden, or to be flying. Although she knew this, it didn’t make her feel insecure at all. Alice was happy with who she was, and wasn’t going to let someone’s ideas of who or what she should be change her.

When her Hogwarts letter came Alice literally had never been more excited. Her brothers had huge tales to tell about the school and she couldn’t wait to start exploring it herself. She wasn’t really shocked when she got sorted into Gryffindor. Gryffindor was like a second home for Alice though. She finally began to have a group of friends that actually appreciated her for who she was and didn’t tease her about not being like them. Her school friends loved her for who she was, and praised her for her achievements.  Alice wasn’t academic in the slightest, and didn’t really know what she wanted to do with her life. She got through classes, studied hard, because she wanted to get good grades. She didn’t want to risk flunking any classes, just in case they came in useful in the future. 

It was a sunny day in the middle of fifth year when the aurors came to visit. It was a career informing class, and the class left an impact on Alice. She’d not considered being an auror before, but she fell in love with the career that day. The two aurors that came were awe-inspiring, and Alice left that class with only one goal in life; to become an auror. From that day forward she worked hard, making sure that she would pass all her classes and make it onto the auror program. She knew the program hadn’t taken anyone straight from Hogwarts in a few years, and she was determined to change that. Most of her NEWT years were spent studying, though her friends occasionally could get her to come to a quidditch match, or do something social. Her hard work paid off though, because Alice got a place on the auror program straight after graduating Hogwarts. It was the proudest moment of her life.

People had their doubts when Alice entered the auror program. They didn’t think the little pureblood girl could do it. But she was determined to prove all her doubters wrong. She worked hard. She barely had a social life really, but she was just focused upon getting through auror school. It was hard, but she was finally doing something she loved. She felt like she was doing something right in the world. She excelled. Alice had natural raw talent that was great for the Auror program. She was courageous. She was hard working, and she was excellent at dueling.  Three years later Alice graduated the auror program. It had been three long years, and Alice was tired. But she was so proud of herself. Now the hard work started. She got a job at the British Ministry of Magic. And she loved it. She’d proved all her doubters wrong. Alice was doing something good, and it felt great.

There was something in the background though. She remembered her parents talking about this pureblood elite, and frankly she hated it. She hated that people thought they were better because of their blood. She didn’t see it. The difference in beliefs had caused a lot of tension in the family, and although Alice had never officially been disowned, she knew that did not approve of her thoughts and beliefs. But Alice would always be against these forces, and the choice to join the Order when she was invited was an easy one. It felt right to be fighting against the dark forces in the world

So she fought. And they won. And the Wixen world was supposed to be better. The need to constantly look over her shoulder was gone. The worry that her choice to leave her family had put a target on her back lessened. Alice feels like she can finally relax.

Almost.

  Dirk was no stranger to being different, he’d felt singled out since the moment he was old enough to realise the other kids in his school looked different. His mother was British, his father Japanese and he’d spent the first four years of his life being raised in Tokyo. His father was a prominent businessman and when he was transferred to London he and his mother didn’t hesitate to immigrate, the pay and benefits too good to pass up. They’d only been in London for a few months before Dirk was enrolled in nursery and already his linguistic skills were starting to show themselves. He picked up English quicker than some of his native schoolmates and had thought they’d all be good friends until another boy in his class told him to ‘go back to China.’ He’d been confused, he was Japanese? And upset. Running home after school he cried to his mother who sat him down and explained some people, small minded, cruel people, wouldn’t accept him simply because he was born somewhere different. But, despite their cruelty, he needed to stay kind. It was a lesson he strove to never forget.

  So, Dirk continued to grow as a happy, healthy boy. His passions were, Akido, which his father taught him every evening (with a bo staff and without), and languages, which his mother taught him more when he got home from school. By the time he was eleven Dirk he’d earned his first dan grade (entry black belt) in Akido and spoke fluent English, Japanese, Mandarin and some French. It had been a usual afternoon in the summer holidays when a knock came to their door and a strangely dressed man came in to speak to his parents. It turned out he had magic! Strange as it seemed some things made sense to Dirk now… a time he’d swore a cup moved before he touched it, or when a bad fall in a sparring match didn’t seem to hurt him at all. But, having it confirmed in such a way was shocking. His parents, ever practical, had a million questions and Dirk sat quietly and politely, drinking in as much as he could.

  Hogwarts was… amazing and terrifying in equal measure. He’d followed the other kids, though ended up standing with the more nervous looking ones as a stern woman held a hat out then placed it on his head. A voice told him he showed great intelligence, and a kindness and understanding beyond his years. It asked him if he’d rather be smart or kind and remembering his mother’s words he’d answered ‘kind.’ “Hufflepuff!” Was yelled to the hall and he stood on wobbly legs to go over to his new table, seeing several friendly faces greeting him. Turns out, he’d chosen wisely, by the end of the feast he had several friends who seemed as interested in his muggle life as he was in their magical ones. Even better, a girl in his year came from normal- muggle- parents as well!

  He excelled in school but was saddened when he saw no languages on his timetable. Dirk held back after a Herbology lesson to speak with Professor Sprout and tried to explain to her how much he loved languages and all the different ones he could speak. She listened and thrilled with his passion passed on his request to Professor Dumbledore. Within a week he was pulled from a class to meet Arlor, a goblin from Gringotts and Vorsel Udek, a member of the mertribe in Hogwarts’ Great Lake. His face lit up as he learned both were willing to teach him their languages and Dirk’s time in school became set. By his fifth year he’d mastered both languages and was close friends with the mertribe of the Great Lake and several members of Gringotts, chatting fluent Gobbledegook when he stopped by every August with his parents. He left Hogwarts with O’s and E’s in his Newts and (partly thanks to a very strong reference from Arlor) a job training with the Goblin Liaison Office under the department’s head, Cuthbert Mockridge. Despite his age he fit in well and carried out as much work as he could, other departments even asking to borrow him on occasion for his polyglot abilities.

Peter was born to a woefully unprepared teenaged couple in a small mining village in Wales. His father worked every day and his mother too as soon as she was able. They explained to Peter that they couldn’t be with him if they wanted food or even to live so Peter got very good at keeping quiet and keeping to himself. He also got very good at being scared; monsters under the bed, boogie-men in the wardrobe, demons in the woods… Every sound was something to be scared of. As worried as he was of all the creatures in his mind his blood ran cold and remained that way when his mother collapsed at work and was never the same again. A heart attack at twenty-four… apparently weak-hearts ran in the family.

His mother’s ill-health rendered her unable to work and his father was devastated, unable to cope with the change in his wife. Peter, aged six, became a caretaker of sorts. While his father, who grew less happy in himself, shuffled to work and back, Peter cooked simple food, cleaned the house, left his mother with all she needed and walked to school and back, always running past the scary parts. He and his father… They were never close to begin with but by this point? They just didn’t talk to one another; they didn’t know how to. So, Peter went into himself more and more and the world grew more frightening. His mother tried to bring him out of his shell but… She rarely had the strength to put in much effort.

 At age eleven a woman in strange clothes came to the door with a letter in hand… Magic? Peter’s mother spoke in slow sentences, saying she’d confided to his father about herself, that she’d never had any talent for magic and had been left behind by her family for it, guessing Peter wouldn’t have the gift either and yet… there it was. His father scraped together what money he could and Peter ambled onto the Hogwarts Express in a uniform two sizes too big (he’d grow into it and it would last longer) expecting to have a heart attack himself before he even reached the school. 

Then came the sorting. He stalled the process, cheeks bright red as the hat hmm’d and harr’d into his ear suggesting how he was a fit for all the houses and none at the same time. In the end the hat had simply asked him what he wanted and Peter had whispered, ‘I want to be brave.’ The hat yelled Gryffindor and he was pretty sure everyone in the Great Hall did a double take, himself included. But he trembled off to his table and off to his dorm soon after, not muttering a word to anyone. 

He had a nightmare and woke up in cold sweat in his dorm. Some of the other boys were still awake and talking; they’d stared at him, he at them and somehow, they’d all ended up talking. From there he ended up finding three of the most talented people he’d ever met; ones he could never live up too yet they seemed to want him around anyway. So, he clung to their coat-tails and prayed to whoever would listen not to be left behind.

Slowly, he came out of himself and was able to joke and smile with them, he didn’t gain confidence in himself, not really, but with their relentless encouragement he surprised himself, and others, time and time again, even mastering a spell he’d nearly fainted at when James first suggested it. Being a rat had only made him feel awful at first, but once again his friends made it seem to have worth. 

Then it was over, they left Hogwarts and Peter felt like any stability he had vanished from under him. With good grades he got a clerical position at the ministry, a job he hoped would leave him overlooked, and joined the Order mainly because he couldn’t bear to be without his friends. Missions were undertaken and again he clung to the backs of his friends and prayed. Eventually, his prayers failed him.

He didn’t know how the Death Eaters discovered his alliance; it didn’t matter. He came face to face with the Dark Lord himself and it barely took a few rounds of the cruciatus curse before he was ready to tell the man whatever he needed to know but- Dumbledore appeared, Horcruxes destroyed, and the war came to an end. The Dark Lord was dead, but he left Peter a parting gift, a vicious slash to his back from left shoulder to right hip. He’d been dumped, bleeding out, with the bodies of a few other ministry workers; their dead faces the last thing he remembered before passing out…