Six Years Ago
Riddle Manor
He crouched behind a bloodied suit of armour, his rotund form squeezed against the cold stone wall of the hallway. His beady eyes were fixed upon the relaxed form of Lucius Malfoy who was leaning against wall next to a large, moving portrait of Salazar Slytherin, flicking idly through an old yellow-paged tomb. As quickly as he dared, Peter Pettigrew withdrew from his hiding place, careful not to make any noise, and crept towards the other man.
"I know you're there, Pettigrew" Lucius said, not looking up from his book.
Peter stopped, frozen like a deer caught in a car's headlights.
"I've been given orders to kill you, you know?" Lucius asked conversationally, still absorbed in his book, "One should know better than to creep about the manor of the Dark Lord after swearing one's allegiance to the light, Pettigrew. I've heard that such actions can lead to disastrous consequences." Lucius stopped to look at the man. "Then again, you've never been known for your brains have you?"
Peter could not answer. Instead, he stared at the blonde haired man unblinkingly, trembling with such vigour that he could feel his several chins wobbling independently of each other.
"Disgusting creature" Lucius observed, lip curling in disdain as he noticed the rivets of sweat running down the face of the man who, rather disturbingly, resembled an overgrown, furless rat.
"P-p-please Lucius!" Peter gasped, struggling to breathe as his anxiety took over his body, denying him air. "Please! You don't want to kill me! I'll do anything! I'll, I'll be your servant! I-I could be your spy! I could help you! You don't want to kill me!"
"Don't you dare presume to know what I do or do not want! You're pathetic Pettigrew! Always clinging to the nearest wizard for protection and favour. Too weak to stand up for yourself. Willing to betray your so called friends to save your miserable excuse for a hide. It's idiots like you that give purebloods a bad name. I shall enjoy killing you, Pettigrew. I shall enjoy it very much."
With wide eyes Peter watched as Lucius flung the book to the side uncaringly where it flew towards the wall but disappeared before it could collide. Peter's eyes flicked back to Lucius quickly, his face aghast with awe and fear at the man's indifferent use of wandless and wordless magic.
Advancing slowly, Lucius drew his wand and pointed it at Peter who had regained the use of his limbs and was scrambling backwards.
"There's no use running Peter! You've no where to go. Nowhere to hide." Lucius smiled sadistically, drawing his arm back in order to cast a spell.
Peter curled into himself, huddling on the ground covering his face with his arm in a useless attempt to shield himself.
"Avada Kedav-"
"Stupefy!" Peter shrieked, having sneakily withdrawn his wand whilst cowering on the ground.
A huge crash resounded throughout the corridor as Lucius was thrown backwards into the portrait behind him and…made a hole in the concrete wall?
Peter frowned. The strength of his spell had not been great enough to send a body hurtling stone and concrete. Peter crept forward slowly, keeping his wand raised in case Lucius was still conscious. 'Doubtful', Peter thought smugly. Cautiously, Peter poked his head through the hole and examined the space beyond.
It was a room, Peter decided. But more than a room, as there were several doors lining the large stretch of wall that Peter suspected led to more rooms.
Peter stepped through the portrait hole daintily, careful to grind his foot into the unconscious Lucius' hand, who was draped half in and half out of the huge gaping hole in the wall.
The room, Peter noted, was probably a lounge of some kind. It was elegantly decorated with expensive looking couches and one of the largest fireplaces Peter had ever seen. One wall was lined with bookcases and what looked like thousands of books. Having never been interested in reading Peter continued his inspections elsewhere.
One wall was covered with paintings. Several of which were of wriggling, hissing snakes as was to be expected in the house which once belonged to Salazar Slytherin. However, it was the large portrait hanging above the marble mantelpiece that caught Peter's eye.
It was obviously a family portrait. There were three of them, the man, probably the father, was standing imposingly behind the two boys, one almost a teenager and the other much younger. Just like every pureblood family portrait, none of them were smiling.
Pettigrew grew closer to the fireplace to inspect the painting a little more. All three had jet black hair, the older two had theirs long, at least to their shoulders, whilst the youngest had his shorter and more curly.
Peter's attention was drawn to the father's hand that clutched the shoulder of his supposed older son. On the index finger sat a ring. Peter squinted and leaned towards the picture even more, struggling with his bad eyesight to make out the ring's details.
When Peter finally saw the ring clearly his heart stopped. His breath became short and the blood drained from his face.
The ring was adorned with the emblem of a snake.
Peter scurried back from the painting hurriedly and stared at its occupant's faces once more. The man and the older son- he recognized them. The man's face was less lined with age and less intimidating whilst the almost-teenager had grown dramatically but Peter was sure he knew what he saw and those piercing emerald eyes were further evidence.
It was a family portrait of Lord Voldemort and his son, Salazar Marvolo the well known and much feared heir to the Dark throne. He was standing in the Dark Lord's private quarters. And stupidly, Peter Pettigrew was pleased.
Whilst any normal person would have considered turning and running for their lives, Peter did not even think to consider the fact that Lord Voldemort would most certainly have wards surrounding his home to alert him if there were intruders.
No, Peter was too busy cackling internally with glee at the knowledge that he had stumbled upon what was probably one of the Dark Lord's greatest secrets.
Lord Voldemort had two sons.
The Dark Lord's eldest, Salazar Marvolo, was well known throughout both the Dark and Light communities. He had first been introduced to his father's Death Eaters at the age of fifteen and had from then on waged a personal war of terror on his father's Light sided enemies. Light wizards and witches feared him while Death Eaters were terrified of him.
However, the youngest son who, in the portrait, was clutching his brother's robes and staring adoringly up at his father before staring ahead stoically, was unheard of. Perhaps he had died or maybe he had run away but, personally, Peter did not care about the fate of the slight looking boy in the picture. All Peter cared about was that he had found his ticket to freedom.
For some time now, Peter had been of the opinion that being dark was rather tedious. Betraying his friends to aid the Dark Lord had not made him very popular amongst the man's forces. Purebloods, however twisted, respected honor and Peter's actions reflected no such thing. Thus, for the last decade, Peter had found himself at the bottom of the Dark side ladder so to speak and was stuck having to perform the most tedious and often unsavory tasks.
Peter, fed up with his lot in life had gone to Dumbledore and had begged him to take him back. The man had hesitantly agreed but had offered his protection only if Pettigrew returned to Voldemort and spied for a short while.
Unfortunately, Peter, who could not be considered the savviest of spies by any means, had been discovered red handed stealing information from the Dark Lord and, prior to his encounter with Lucius Malfoy, had been attempting to escape the Dark Lord's headquarters.
Now Peter felt confident about his return to Dumbledore. With information like this the Light side would have to accept him back. James, Lilly, Sirius and Remus may be a little reluctant at first but Peter was sure that Dumbledore would protect him from them should they take vengeful action!
A slight sneezing noise from behind him distracted Peter from the celebratory parade he was conducting in his head. Peter whirled around, having only just remembered that he was still in dangerous territory and that he should be careful. Peter raised his wand once more, trying to find the source. It had come from the couch but there was no one sitting on it. Peter had the sudden suspicion that he was not alone.
Walking slowly towards the leather couch set, Peter could have sworn he saw a hand appear for only a second before being whipped out of sight again. Yes, someone was hiding under the couch.
Slowly Peter began to lower himself onto his knees.
"PETTIGREW!" A cold, horrible voice thundered behind him. Peter's heart jumped into his throat and he almost soiled himself. Lord Voldemort had arrived and was standing just in front of where the portrait had once been, Lucius still lying behind him.
"M-M-Master!" Peter screeched in shock.
Stupidly, idiotically, moronically, fatally Peter Pettigrew had forgotten whose house he was in, whose personal quarters he had invaded, whose enemy he was. Then and there, Peter knew that he was dead.
"You've gone to far this time Pettigrew!" Voldemort hissed in anger, "I've nothing to say to you! Avada Kedavra!"
The oddly pretty green light careened through the air and hit Peter square in the chest.
Had he still been alive when he hit the ground, Peter Pettigrew would have seen young Harry Potter hiding, eyes wide with fear, under the black leather couch.