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PROLOGUE: Peter

Why can’t I get this spell? It should be simple, easy, a piece of cake, but I simply can’t do it. What am I supposed to be doing? Transfiguring a piece of wood into a chipmunk, thanks for asking. Take a deep breath, Peter. Just because you have absolutely no one to vent to, doesn’t mean you should start acting twitchy. Oh, great. I’m talking to myself. And yet the only thing I can concentrate on is that stupid rhyme James was saying in class just after his wood was Transfigured as perfectly as always. How much wood could a woodchuck chuck, if a woodchuck could chuck wood?

How much? This was driving me crazy. I’m a curious fellow by nature, but this little rhyme had me stumped. Usually I was too lazy to follow up on my curiosities, but this was much more interesting than chipmunks and blocks of wood. Well, it still was about wood, but the point remains.

I — am going — absolutely — mental!

First, I suppose I should say where I am or how everything started to happen. It all started with McGonagall’s Transfiguration class. To start out the class she gave yet another lecture on our O.W.L.s and said to be sure to study hard for them over the Easter holidays. Then she gave us our blocks of wood that we should have been able to Transfigure easily enough. James, of course, was the first to do it followed closely by Sirius. Then James started to teach Sirius that little riddle. I think it has something to do with Muggles because Lily Evans turned around in her chair and glared at James.

Somehow James always manages to get on Evans’s bad side. Anyway, this rhyme or riddle thing had me stumped the rest of the hour and I made absolutely no progress on my block of wood. Thankfully, that was our last class before the holidays, so I looked forward to collapsing on my bed to make up for the lack of sleep the night before.

James and Sirius had different ideas. They wouldn’t let me sleep, and constantly took the mickey out of me for failing to complete my Transfiguration homework during class. Just because I’m an Animagus doesn’t mean I am as perfect as those two at every Transfiguration. It was all I could do to finally become one, and, as they constantly remind me, it was only with their superior help that I even became an Animagus.

Remus was stuck in the hospital wing for the day, recovering from last night. Thankfully he didn’t do as much damage to himself as in times past, so he should be out by tomorrow morning if Madam Pomfrey sees sense. So, as James and Sirius snuck down to the kitchens for their usual before-supper snack, I went to the library to try and do the transfiguration homework.

So that is where I am stuck now. Still trying to do the transfiguration, and still being totally distracted by the riddle. What does it mean? If a woodchuck could chuck wood? Does that mean that they don’t chuck wood? Why would they be called woodchucks then? What is chucking wood, anyway?

“Pettigrew? What are you doing here alone? Where’s Remus?”

The voice I dread came from behind me. How in the world had she snuck up on me? I swear she is a cat sometimes. Actually, that would probably explain my unreasoning fear of her.

“E-Evans?” I said, turning slightly to see the green eyes and red hair that filled James’s dreams. I’m not exaggerating. He talks in his sleep.

Lily Evans was looking at me with a curiosity that would have to go unfulfilled. I would not betray my friends to her. But — her question was reasonable. Usually Remus did study with me when I came in here.

“Er — Remus is up in the dormitory,” I blurted out. Thankfully it was a plausible answer. I absolutely hate it when she makes me blurt out an answer that is not even possible.

I turned back to my block of wood, only to hear her say something that made my blood freeze.

“Oh, good. I need to remind him about our patrols tonight.”

I swiftly turned and saw her gathering up her things at a nearby table. “He has patrols tonight?” I asked, my anxiety showing through.

She paused and looked at me. “Of course. Professor McGonagall reminded me right after class.”

“Professor McGonagall?” I squeaked. I mentally winced. If I didn’t act enough like a rat already, I just have to squeak when I get nervous.

Evans regarded me curiously. Curiosity killed the Kneazle, I thought malevolently. “Why? Is something the matter?” she asked.

I'm loving this story! ^_^ write more soon okay.