I’d followed him silently, and only made my presence known when he was nearly out the door. “Wormtail? Where are you going?”

He squeaked. Slowly, he turned around to face me, and I noticed with a jolt that he was carrying a bag. “I--I need some time, Remus.”

“We are at war, Peter. And you’re escaping, leaving your friends. And what about your mother? Are you leaving her, too?"

The defiant look that sparkled on his eyes for a split of second should have clued me in, right then.

It didn't.

Less than a year later, they were dead.