30th October 1981
Peter walked quickly down the winding streets of London, stumbling at various intervals on the loose cobblestones. His breathing was laboured and his heart was thumping painfully against his ribcage, however, he powered on trying to ignore the voice in his head telling him to turn back.
The evening was none like he had ever experienced. A storm was brewing, taking its time to unleash its full fury and rage when those underneath were least expecting it. The sky was an indicator to that as it was a deep black, covered it seemed with clouds so thick that not even the brightness of the moon could penetrate its dense canopy.
Peter lowered his head against the wind, which was howling and wailing like a wounded beast, screaming at Peter to turn back while he still could. However, its pleas were disregarded by the small, rat-like man who continued to stumble forwards on the cobbled and uneven pavement.
Finally, turning a sharp corner, he reached his destination, which stood big and foreboding at the end of the Muggle Street. Its walls were blackened with what seemed to be a thin layer of dust and its windows were grey and grimy. Coming to a halt, he paused in front of the large doors which looked broken to the common Muggle, however, large and daunting to a wizard.
Interesting place for a meeting thought Peter using all of his willpower to stop himself from running away. Breathing in deeply, he lifted his hand, now balled into a shaking fist, and knocked three times on the door. However there was no need for knocking as the second his skin touched the varnished door it swung open, creaking on its no doubt old hinges.
Peter gulped and stared into the mouth of the cavernous beast he needed to penetrate. It was dark and musty, however, well furnished. Peter, being a wizard, could see straight through the glamour and he dreaded to think of what it looked like to muggles.
Inhaling deeply he straightened his bent back and clenched his fists to stop his fingers from twitching. Puffing his chest out, he tried to look more confident than he felt: he was Peter Pettigrew and no matter what people said about him, he was still a Gryffindor and could still be brave if he wanted to.
Laughter filled the Great Hall. It was cruel and harsh and Peter wished for the floor to swallow him whole, gulp him down in one go where he would not have to face what felt like a thousand people laughing and pointing at him.
He felt like curling up into a ball however, he pushed himself up from the cold and hard tiles trying his best not to let the tears, which were forming in the corner of his eyes, fall and trickle down his burning cheeks. If he was to survive six more years of this then he had better put on a brave face and try to look unaffected.
With one last heave, he managed to get to his feet, bumping his head on the edge of a bench as he did so. Clutching his head, Peter pressed his hand against the newly formed cut hidden beneath his mop of hair and tried his best not to look as though he was in pain.
Deciding that he was not in the mood to finish breakfast, he got to his feet and tried to keep his head held up high. Starting to walk down the aisles of tables he scrunched up his eyes and pretending he could not see the hundreds of people laughing and pointing at him. He tried to ignore Sirius and James joining in the laughter, which seemed to echo in the Hall and marched on, head held up high, high.
Just as he neared the large oak doors, Peter thought he had made it. He had managed to get through the sea of monsters, cackling and shrieking at him like they had since the first day he had first started a Hogwarts. However, he was wrong.
"Watch your step, Pettigrew. Don't want to fall!"
Peter spun around, eyes pinpointing the young Slytherin who had shouted at him. Looking wildly around the Hall for someone to defend him, his eyes landed on James, Sirius and Remus again, however, they made no attempt to stand up for the person who was meant to be their friend.
Skin bubbling with anger he felt a fury he never knew existed within him, boil in the pit of his stomach. The words on the brink of his tongue fought to come out however, he bit them back. Unlike actions, he knew words meant nothing.
Peter clenched his fists, looked back at the Slytherin and stared daggers at the boy before spinning around and stomping out of the hall, hatred coursing through him. He would show them one day, show them all that he was not one to be made a fool of. One day he would be the one laughing at them while they stood in shame, at the brunt of his anger.
He was now at the top of the stairs, the floorboards creaking under his weight and dust flying from under his feet.
Reaching a door at the end of the corridor, he knocked and entered now sweating profusely.
"I did not tell you to enter, Pettigrew," said a cold, harsh voice, coming from behind a black leather chair.
Peter gulped. "I-I'm s-so sorr-ry my L-Lord," he spluttered, cowering and creeping back into the shadows he had come from.
"Do you have the information, Wormtail or do I need to send somebody else?" came the cold reply.
"They are a-at Godric's H-Hollow, my L-Lord," whimpered Wormtail, holding his bare left arm tightly between his shaking fingers.
The chair spun around and Voldemort, cold and wax-like in the candlelight stood up. His robes billowing around him, Peter could feel the power radiate off him in waves.
"You have done well, Wormtail. Now come here and show me your arm," said Voldemort, his red eyes glinting maliciously.
"Of course, my Lord," Peter took a few steps forward.
"Nah, old Wormy will never get her," shrugged James, biting the head off a sugar mouse, "No offence, mate," he added.
"Oh it's," Peter tried to say fine, however, the words would not come out of his mouth so instead he shrugged and jerked his head trying to look unbothered.
"Aw, I think you've upset him Prongs," said Sirius, ruffling Peter's hair and pretending to look concerned.
"Guys stop it, you're being mean. Leave him alone," said Remus lamely.
"Oh he's fine, aren't you Wormy? He knows we're just having a laugh," answered Sirius, nudging Peter hard on the arm.
Peter twisted his head towards Sirius and nodded, however, he was not fine with it. He was far from fine with it.
"See!" said Sirius indignantly to Remus, who just shrugged and continued to read his book.
"Lily Evans is too beautiful and clever for Wormy. She's out of his league. But he'll get someone on his own level one day," said James casually, "Only two more years of school left," he added.
Peter swallowed deeply, feeling his cheeks burn up with the embarrassment of it all. Suddenly he felt the urge to jump up and yell at them. He had enough of being mocked for his size for his looks, his weight… They were meant to be his friends, not his tormentors.
"I think Prongs has Evans anyway," said Sirius, "She likes you, I just know it!"
James smirked and Peter noticed a hopeful look in his eyes.
"Roll up your sleeve, Wormtail. Here it is…" hissed Voldemort, unsheathing his wand from its leather cover.
Peter rolled up his sleeve sweat pouring down his face. This would do it. This would show them that they couldn't mess with him anymore.
The tip of the deathly white wand came in contact with Peter's skin and a warming sensation filled his arm. What seemed to be black ink seeped through his pink flesh, staining it and killing it as it writhed and moved to form a snake coming out of a skull.
"Your reward."
Written for the Weekly Challenge - #1 Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
Prompt 3: Write a drabble for an instance where you believe that Wormtail's resentment towards his friends began, and consequently, turned him against them.
I hope this story fits the requirements, I'm not sure if it does. Anyway, I hope you enjoy and have a nice day!