Another Man's Courage
By: P.E.E.V.S.Y.
Courage doesn't always roar. Sometimes courage is the little voice at the end of the day that says I'll try again tomorrow. ~Mary Anne Radmacher
When Peter had put on the Sorting Hat, he'd known he wasn't brave. Bees and spiders scared him, he was terrified that people wouldn't like him and he'd always walked away from bullies instead of standing up to them. So when the hat had said, "Well, well, well! Would you look at all that courage?" Peter had been shocked, to say the least.
What do you mean? Peter had tentatively asked. And the hat had gone off talking about how he'd taken care of his mother and held her together when his dad had died. This had only confused Peter more.
That wasn't brave, Peter had tried to reason with it, I was so scared when he died. I still am, Peter had admitted, feeling low and cowardly. She loved him so much and there's no way I can ever make it better. And that scares me.
"And that's why you're brave. Because you're still trying," The hat had told him, before shouting "GRYFFINDOR" to the hall.
Peter had run to the Gryffindor table feeling so proud and happy—he'd always wanted to be in the House of the Brave—and a little bit guilty, too. Because the Sorting Hat had made its first mistake—Peter knew he wasn't brave enough to be in Gryffindor.
When Peter and James and Sirius had found out that Remus was a werewolf, Peter had known he wasn't brave. James and Sirius had been the ones to confront Remus about it. They were the ones who hadn't cared and said it didn't matter. Peter had been scared.
It had taken everything he had to stand there with James and Sirius when they told Remus that they knew. It'd taken even more than that to smile at Remus convincingly and say, "Don't be stupid, Remus. Of course it doesn't matter. You're still Remus, that git that poured porridge on my head when I accidentally mispronounced your last name, right?"
And when Remus had blushed and mumbled something about it being an accident, Peter had still had to use all of his practice lying to his Mum—"No, nobody bullies me at school," and "Yes Mum, I'm fine"—to say, "Then of course you're still my friend. Sheesh. And I thought you were supposed to be the smart one." And when Remus had smiled at the three of them looking just so relieved, Peter had felt a small part of him die.
Because of course Remus was still Remus and why couldn't he have realized that before, like James and Sirius had?
All throughout his years at Hogwarts, Peter had known he wasn't brave. Sirius and James were the ones who'd gotten back at the people bullying him. Peter had only been able to roll his eyes and walk away, because he was too scared to move much less actually say anything.
Remus was the one who had to undergo a horrible transformation every month. Peter had only been terrified of being eaten every time he went with James and Sirius to keep one of their best friends more comfortable and happy on the worst nights of his life.
When James had asked Lily Evans out, even though he knew he'd be insulted, and when Sirius had ran away from home, and when Remus had admitted that he probably wouldn't be able to get a job after Hogwarts but that he'd be trying anyway, Peter had wished that he was more like his friends. That he'd had their courage.
When Peter was asked to join the Order of the Phoenix, he'd known he wasn't brave. James and Sirius had looked so excited when Dumbledore had told them.
"Yes, I want to join! Taking down bad people? Sounds like my kind of job!" James had beamed.
Peter had just wanted to go home, curl up in a ball and disappear for the rest of the war. He was scared of getting killed.
The only thing that got him to force out, "Okay, I'm in," was the thought of his half-blood mother, and Lily's parents and that funny little muggleborn first year who insisted on telling bad jokes to anyone who would listen. After all, it wouldn't be fair if anyone hurt them, Peter had thought. And so he'd joined, even though he was scared stiff, like no Gryffindor should be.
When You-Know-Who had asked Peter to betray his friends, Peter had known he wasn't brave. Not like Sirius, or James or Remus or Lily or any real Gryffindor. None of them would have joined. Not ever. They would have rather died. But all Peter could think of was the fact that You-Know-Who was going to hurt his mum if Peter said no. All Peter could think of was that if he became a nameless causality like he would be if he said no, his mum, who was barely hanging onto her sanity as if was, would completely lose it. So even though he didn't want to, even though he was terrified for his friends, Peter joined the Death Eaters, like no real Gryffindor ever would.
Peter Pettigrew had known he wasn't brave. Not when he'd broken James and Lily's trust (Because what else could you expect from a coward? Peter had thought miserably), not when he'd faked his own death (At least his mum would get something then, instead of just an owl saying her precious son was in Azkaban), not when he'd helped You-Know-Who rise from the dead.
When Peter eased his grip on Harry Potter's neck, Peter knew he wasn't brave. If he was, he never would have tried to strangle Harry in the first place. And if he'd been really brave, he would have finished the job, instead of taking the easy way out and loosing his grip. Even though Peter knew he'd be strangled instead, and was almost as terrified of dying as of living.
And so Peter Pettigrew had died, not knowing that there were many kinds of bravery, and that just because his was a quieter, simpler sort, didn't mean he didn't have it.
Every man has his own courage and is betrayed because he seeks in himself the courage of another person. ~Ralph Waldo Emerson
A/N: Say what you will about Peter, I've always thought he was a true Gryffindor. Always. And when I found the Emerson quote, this story just popped into my head, and I had to write it. Thanks for taking the time to read this, and please review!
-P.E.E.V.S.Y.
