DIARY OF A MURDERER

Chapter 1 - I had Values... Once

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My name is Peter Donald Pettigrew.

I am twenty years old, and I am ashamed of myself. Scared, and ashamed. 'What are you going on about?', you say? Perhaps it would be a good idea if I started at the beginning? Yes, I think it would.

Eleven years old. That was my age when I began at Hogwarts. Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I knew my letter was coming. Although I was a bit of a dunce when it came to spells and wands, I knew I was magic. I was a wizard. True, I was a poorly upbrung wizard, with very little money, but I was a Wizard all the same. And I had values. Notice the word had? I had values. Perhaps not any more, but it is comforting to know that they were there once.

I prided myself on being sorted into the most prestigious of all houses: Gryffindor the Great. I prided myself even more with the company I kept. James Potter, Sirius Black and Remus Lupin. James Potter, messy black hair, loving brown eyes and incredibly handsome. Much like myself. Who am I kidding? I am writing this journal to be true to myself, no one else. I am scrawny and pale, chubby and rather mousey looking. Or at least I am now.

Sirius Black. Black hair, handsome smile, incredible sense of humor and he could make even a stone burst into fits of laughter. Then there was Remus. Strong but silent type is what the girls would call him. Incredibly smart, handsome, but in that sweet, almost boring kind of way. Very sensitive and kind. And there it was. The group. There was the sweet sensual intellectual, the kind, funny joker, the handsome sought after almost pretty boy, and me. The scrawny, ugly one that everyone assumed they only hung out with because they felt sorry for me.

But they didn't. Or at least I didn't think they did. We had such good times. The best days of my life. Until it all went wrong. Oh, and how wrong it went. I may well tell you the outcome of the story, mightn't I? No, I think I will carry on. Jumping about to different times in my story will only confuse me. Notice I said me, not you? That is because everything confuses me these days. Everything except one thing; I am a murderer.

You have my introductions, my descriptions of all in my story up to date. I plan on writing more in this journal, but the mark burns upon my arm. Most will not understand yet, but I assure you, it will come out in the end. For now, I must hide away the Christmas present to myself; this journal. Undated, unsigned. Perhaps it was not such a good idea to place my name at the top? If anyone should find this, then all is lost.

I will write more, explain more.

Wormtail.

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R/R