Peter had been talking to me rather regularly, at the time. Far more than the rest of the Order. There was this place we'd meet... Peter had been telling me, he didn't think James and Lily were safe. He thought Dumbledore was planning to use them as bait, somehow, and

When they died, when he was right that they weren't safe, that rather

I honestly didn't

I didn't go to the Order the way Sirius did, after your parents died. I didn't try to clear my name. Because I didn't trust any of them, anymore. Even Sirius. And I got a note warning me that they thought it was my fault, which seemed so utterly mad to me given that they'd kept me from knowing any of the plans to protect James and Lily. You know? They'd kept me out, out of distrust, and then blamed me anyway, and

I guess I decided they could all go hang themselves. They'd let James die, they'd let Lily die, and they'd decided somehow it was my fault because I was a werewolf. I was supposed to be trying to persuade the other werewolves that we were better off under the status quot than we would be under Voldemort, and I couldn't do that. Because I wasn't sure I still believed it myself.