March 4th, 1972"I'm gonna hex Peter next time I see him," James said firmly as he stood in the
trophy room with the other three Gryffindors, each with a worn rag in their hands, cleaning
and polishing every surface, medal, cup, crown, and prize until they gleamed brightly.
They were supposed to have been separated for their detention, but Filch was not
around to supervise, as he had been called away to deal with something on the third-floor
corridor, mumbling "... bloody Prewett brats."
Frank had been excused from detention due to his cauldron melting the day before,
where he ended up in the hospital wing with bandages on both hands.
"I'll do it," Mia offered. "Peter already knows I don't like him."
"Why is that?" Sirius turned around from the other side of the room to look at Mia,
who was busy polishing the last Quidditch Cup to have been won by Gryffindors. "What'd
Peter ever do to you?"
Mia glowered, wanting to stomp her feet in frustration. "I don't have to like
everyone, you know. Besides, he didn't stand up for his friends."
"Yeah," Remus said thoughtfully, "but you've never taken a shine to Pete."
"I... I don't know," Mia snapped, not wanting to talk about it.
It was one thing to ignore the short, watery-eyed boy or set him up for a little jinx
from time to time, but the boys were asking her to divulge the origin of her distaste for
Peter Pettigrew, and she could not do it. Thinking about her hatred for the boy only
brought up a sickening anger inside of her. Everything was Peter's fault. James and Lily's
death, Harry becoming an orphan, Sirius getting locked up in Azkaban, and Remus being
left alone for twelve years.
"Did he do something to you? Say something?" James asked, his gaze filled with
sudden concern.
"No. He just... I don't know. I don't trust him," she said with a tone of finality,
hoping none of them pushed the issue any further.