"Go on. Open it," James said, voice barely above a whisper.

He and Lily were crowded about her desk, staring down at the green and silver box. Lily's hand shook as he reached for the latch, her fingers touched the silver and she hesitated, and quickly pulled back. "What if it's something really terrible?" she asked, "What if it's a dementor or a boggart or --"

"We know how to defeat boggarts," James pointed out, "And dementors, too. And why would Voldemort consider either of those things as valuable?"

"What would he consider valuable?" Lily challenged, drawing her hand back.

"Whatever it is, it's been in there at least three days, yeah? Without food or water or anything. It can't be anything alive, can it?"

Lily shivered, "I don't know, James. You didn't hear it when it was hissing like a snake. It's... it's awful." She stared at it with her eyebrows cinched in concern. "I think whatever it is could be living."

James thought for a moment, studying the box.

"Could be some dark insect or something?" Lily suggested. "Doxies or --"

"Again. Doxies aren't valuable."

"Perhaps they're venomous doxies. Like more venomous than usual. Perhaps they're... killer doxies."

"Alright," James said, "Enough sci-fi for you." He chuckled and when she looked upset he bent to look in her eyes, "Hey. It's going to be alright, okay? We're going to open it and whatever it is that's in there, we're both going to be here to fight it, okay? And -- just think how much it'll really piss that old wanker off we destroyed his things."

Lily laughed at the vulgar phrase. "James."

He smirked and tilted his head to look at her, "I know I for one am not afraid, I'm facing whatever it is with the brightest witch I know."

Lily's eyes met his.

James smiled. His lip hung up on his tooth.

"Oh alright," Lily said, her heart fluttering. "Alright. Let's do it then." She turned back to the box, reached out for the latch and paused. "Ready?"

James drew his wand, aimed for the box, and prepared himself. "On with it," he advised.

Lily drew a deep breath, her fist clutched around her wand, too, and flipped opened the latch.

The box sprang open and they both jumped backward, expecting terrible things to emerge from the box but nothing happened. They stood, panting, a couple steps away from i desk, both wands aimed steadily at the open box. They could just see that it was lined with black velvet. James glanced at Lily, and she looked back at him, and he nodded toward it, and she nodded, and they both stepped closer until they were looking down into the pentagon shaped box and found, laying in the bottom on a cushion like base, the chain wrapped into the pillow it sat upon, a locket.

Lily reached for it but James caught her hand, "Don't touch it," he said, pulling it back and releasing his grip immediately. For once, she wouldn't have minded if he'd kept his hand there. Even with the anxiety of the moment, she'd felt her heart nearly stop when his skin had made contact with hers. "It could be cursed," he whispered. "I heard about this necklace once that instantly kills anyone who touches it. And there's loads like that, replicas and copycats and the like. This could be one of those. You Know Who would consider something like that valuable, I reckon."

"What do we do?" Lily asked, looking up at him.

James took hold of a sheath of paper that the box sat upon and pulled it even closer, staring directly down onto it.

The locket was angular-cut, made of amber, and seemed to have trapped within a small - perhaps even shrunken - snake, curved in the shape of an S, deep in the amber. Runes of an untellable language curled and wrapped around several times from the snake, filling the rest of the amber with spidery black inky writing that James couldn't read. The fastenings were silver, as was the chain, and there was something black and dark that seemed to undulate from deep in the heart of the locket.

"Stand back," he said quietly.

"What're you going to do?" Lily whispered, eyes widening.

"I'm going to try to destroy it," James answered.

Lily argued, "What if whatever you do just ...just makes it angry?"

"It's a necklace, what's it going to do? Bite me?" James asked.

Lily said, "You never know. I've seen stranger."

"Yes, well," James said, and he rolled up his sleeves, "All the same." He took aim, took a deep breath, and said, "Reducto!"

The spell struck the amber, which made a sound like a thousand snakes screaming, and bounced back. He ducked and it hit Lily's dresser, exploding the corner off the top of it, sending socks and underpants flying about the room. Lily's face went crimson and she covered her eyes as the lacy things fluttered through the air like private butterflies.

James looked at the tip of his wand, where a particularly lacy pair of lavender-colored underpants hand landed, hanging off the tip. He swallowed back a lump in his throat and shook the panty off the wand and onto the ground, watching it as it fell.

"Sorry," he muttered.

Lily shook her head.

James cleared his throat, "Um... reparo," he cast and the wood that had shattered returned to it's state as a dresser, but the panties were still strewn about them. "I'll, um, you can pick those up, I'll - I'll not look," he suggested.

Lily hurried to get them and shoved them back in her newly repaired drawer as James stared resolutely at the necklace, his eyes rolling up to the ceiling now and then as he heard Lily collecting them, willing himself not to look or think about those lacy lavender ones that had hung there on his wand... about what they'd look like on her, on those hips, over those legs...

"Alright," Lily said. "Good enough for now." She stepped up beside James, laughed at the way his eyes were diverted and poked him, "At ease, soldier," she said.

James looked at her, then looked away, a flush rising in his face because his imagination had gone a bit wild and he was shy of her now, and he cleared his throat, jabbing his wand toward the locket. "Okay, so a spell doesn't destroy it," he murmured, contemplating it.

"Did you hear it, though?" Lily asked.

"Yeah," James nodded. "And I reckon your right. I think it is alive."

Lily nodded.

James hesitated, then leaned forward and clapped the box shut, letting the latch swing down to seal it. "And I reckon also that we need some help."

Lily, still nodding, said, "I agree."

Suddenly the bedroom door opened and Petunia was standing in the frame. "Mother wanted me to see if you were alright. She says he heard a bang." Her eyes met James's and she sneered and looked to Lily.

"Yeah, we're alright," Lily answered.

"Just practicing," James replied. "For school. Spells and what have you."

Petunia looked feebly interested.

"Wanna see one?" James raised his wand, aiming or her.

Petunia's hand went to her neck and she dodged out of the room.

Lily laughed heartily, "Oh you wicked thing."

James smirked.

Peter Pettigrew sat on a swing in a park down the road from his house, but the swing was barely moving, and he did not look to be having very much fun. He was staring down at the toes of his trainers, dragging through the gravel, arms about the chains, holding on. He sighed as the sun beat down on him. A dark cloud was rolling in, though, and he could see the hazy, blurriness below it, coming closer - rain.

He'd been waiting since the end of term to hear from James or Remus or Lily or even Sirius. But not a single owl had come, save for the registration form for his disapparation lessons, which his father had only reluctantly agreed to sign, muttering that they taught disapparation far too young...

Peter sighed.

The rain started to fall and hard, too, and Peter got up to head home and realized by the time he got there he'd be soaked through. "Umbrella!" he said, shaking his wand and the tip burst out with a little red umbrella and he held it over his head as he ran across the quickly muddying, uneven ground, being careful not to trip. He was paying such a good deal of attention to his footing that he didn't realize there was another person there until he quite literally ran right into them.

He fell on his bottom in a puddle, staring up, squinting through the rain, to see none other than Voldemort himself. Peter squeaked in shock. Of all the places in all the world, this was the last that he had ever, ever expected to find Voldemort at. His stomach turned and he cowered away from him.

Voldemort looked down on Peter, judging him for having fallen over, thinking him weak and pathetic and easily scared.

"P-please," Peter stammered.

The Dark Lord had cast some sort of charm that hovered 'round him like an umbrella but was fully invisible and kept the water even from pooling around his feet, as though he were in a sort of bell jar of dryness. He wore an extremely sharp black suit, buttoned high up his throat. "I have need of you, Wormtail," he said lowly.

"I - I won't h - help you," Peter said, gathering every ounce of bravery he had.

Voldemort raised an eyebrow. "Oh but Wormtail," he murmured, and he raised his hand and balled it into a fist, "I do believe you will." And he squeezed his fist tighter as though pulling on a rope and as he did, the place on Peter's wrist where the ropes of golden fire had tied - years ago now - lit up as red-hot as they'd always been. Peter let out a cry of pain as Voldemort raised his fist and Peter was pulled up by his wrist from the ground to hover a small way above it until Voldemort lowered his fist and set him down on his feet before him. "Come, Wormtail. The task I have for you isn't that bad."

He shivered, tears pouring down his face as he rubbed the spot on his wrist that had been alight, his body shaking internally, every muscle quivering.

Voldemort studied him a long moment, his hands behind his back, rocking gently on his feet from the ball to the heel and back, a small quirk of a smile on the corner of his mouth as he watched Peter's shock and pain. "Compared to what I could ask of you, it's actually very simple."

Peter looked up at the Dark Lord, his eyes wet with the threat of tears.

"There is a watch, Wormtail," Voldemort said. He cracked his neck to one side and then the other, and Peter thought for a moment that, compared to how he'd appeared last time, the Dark Lord seemed different. Weaker, perhaps.

"A w-w-watch?" Peter asked.

"A very particular watch. It has a mouse on the face. I am not sure which of the Potters has it, but  I have a very, very reliable source that tells me one of them has it in their possession."

Peter twitched at the name Potter and shivered as the rain continued falling on him, though it didn't touch Voldemort at all.

Voldemort said, "You will bring me this watch. You'll know how to find me to deliver the watch once you've got it in your possession" He released his fist and Peter felt the skin on his wrist flash once again and in the time it took Peter to react to the pain, Voldemort had vanished.

Peter shook and he felt tears running down his face. Clutching his wrist, the pain of it still blindingly sharp, as though the lacerations had been made of molten gold. He ran through the rain, his hair matted down, puddles splashing and dirtying his trousers as he went until he got to his home, pushed open the front door and firmly pressed it closed behind, leaning against it as though to keep it shut, and closed his eyes, his heart pounding very, very hard so that his ears seemed to throb with the sound of it.

He looked at his had.

Sure enough, the faded pink scars on his wrist were now bright and hot red once again, and he ran up the stairs, clutching his arm, to his bedroom, where he lay upon his bed, sobbing.