Peter Pettigrew was dumbstruck. This had most definitely not been covered in the plan. He stared down at the empty shell of the former Dark Lord Voldemort with acute panic.

The plan had been to…kill…the boy while the Potter's were out so that when they came back they would find their only son dead in his crib.

It was thought by the Dark Lord that their grieving would make them weaker than ever before and thereby eliminate them as a potential threat, or so he told Wormtail.

Wormtail had heard rumor of a prophesy that involved a child with the power to defeat the Dark Lord. When he had first heard the story he had believed it to be nothing but wishful gossiping among the frightened wizards of England. Now, he wasn't so sure. After all the body of his master lying not two feet away indicated that this supposed prophesy might have been real.

If Peter had not seen it with his own eyes he would not have believed it.

Well the boy definitely had James' knack for doing the unexpected…James. He couldn't let his old friend know his part in this. It was one thing if the Dark Lord was around to protect him, but it was a whole other scenario to face the wrath of the Potters and all of their friends on his own. They are quite popular after all…

He could lie about it but in the end there was too many ways to dig it out of him-no it was best to run.

But then, what about Harry? When Lily and James came home to find him gone, the Dark Lord's body, and a wounded Harry, they would surely investigate. All it would take is a decent legilimens to find out what happened and they were certain to contact Dumbledore about the situation.

There was nothing else for it, he would have to…kill him…

He raised his wand to the boy's forehead and tried not to think about what he was about to do.

The young boy had just stopped his wailing over his encounter with Voldemort and looked up at him with those great green eyes, perplexed. "Wummy?" he said.

He couldn't do it. There was no way in hell he would ever be able to kill a child, especially not this child. He was the only being he could ever remember that looked at him without pity or disgust. This child, young though he might be, had always looked at him with those wide green eyes as if he was someone worth knowing.

He still couldn't stay here though, and Peter wasn't about to raise the boy. The kid might like him now, but he would find out what happened and when that day came he would surely murder him in his sleep.

He knew what to do; he would just drop the boy off at some random house and he would never be found.

Peter scooped up the child gently and apparated to London. This was a mistake.

The moment he touched ground the only sound that could be heard was Harry's screaming. He forced his shaky hand over the kid's mouth to quiet the cries and set off looking for the biggest, most well-kept, and expensive looking house he could find.

He skittered along the dark streets until he spied a large white brick building that had flower boxes mounted on every window. This will do just fine.

He placed baby Harry down on the ground and rapped loudly on the door three times before scampering off as a rat to watch what happened from the street.

A light came on immediately and soon a man had the door cracked to show one wary brown eye and the barrel of a gleaming silver handgun.

Maybe this wasn't the best house to leave him at.

Seeing no-one the man opened the door further and revealed a tall, muscular physique absolutely covered in tattoos. In his inspection of the street outside he eventually looked down to see baby Harry at his sock-clad feet.

The child giggled at his bewildered face and did not protest when the man stooped to pick him up.

As the man walked in and closed the door behind him, he yelled; "Elisha, come look what I found!"

His work done, Peter scurried down an exposed sewage pipe and began his new lonely life as a fugitive.