Wormtail was in trouble --- and Wormtail knew it.

He could only thank his stars that it was Jenna White who was speaking to him. right now; Jenna who had found out his treachery, and not the Dark Lord himself.

Treachery. He shivered again, just thinking of the word. That, indeed, the Dark Lord punished most severely.

“You can’t have been naïve enough to think you could get away with not killing him,” Jenna was saying, now. Peter forced himself to look up at her. Her wide, silver eyes were boring into his mind. He tried to shut it out, all the memories, then looked away.

“What do you want to know?” he asked feebly.

“What did you do with Mason?” she said, at once.

“You could figure it out without my telling you.”

“Yeah. I could also use poison and the Cruciatus Curse to make you spill.”

Wormtail shivered again - it was no use, beating about the bush. “I wiped his memory clean.”

Jenna swore under her breath. The idiot. He had been told to kill Roger Mason, not – not this. Wiped Mason’s memory clean? Of course, she had expected something of this sort from him. Before morning, the Ministry would know something was wrong with Mason and, knowing Peter’s feeble memory charms, before morning they would have figured out what had happened to the Unspeakable, too.

“Wormtail, you’re an idiot,” she said, slapping her forehead in frustration. “Can you imagine what you’ve done? By tomorrow, the Ministry will find him. And they know plenty enough methods to get him to recover his memory or, at least, to make him remember who modified it. And all the knowledge he has - when the Dark Lord finds out -”

“Don’t tell him!” Peter squealed, throwing himself at her feet.

Jenna took a step back, clearly exasperated. “Don’t try that stunt on me, Wormtail, it won’t get you anywhere. Here’s the deal: I’m giving you two hours. Two hours, and that’s it. Go kill Mason. And if you don’t – I’ll tell the Dark Lord.”

“No!” Peter squealed. “No, please, Jenna – he –”

“I’m not telling him, Wormtail. Not if you kill Mason within these two hours.” She backed away another step, as he attempted once more to get hold of her feet, then shrugged. “If, for whatever reason, you don’t, I’ll do the job myself. But it’s not going to be good for you. Now get up. Please.”

Peter got to his feet, still a little shaky. “You won’t tell? Please?”

There was something so wretched about his tone, Jenna felt almost sorry. Almost, but not quite. Foolish kid… He wasn’t meant for the Dark Arts, but here he was. A traitor.

- A traitor to every side that did not seem the winning side.

Almost with an effort, she nodded. “No, Peter, I won’t tell. Not if you can kill Mason in the next two hours.”