"Wormtail,"called the icy voice a room over.
Peter Pettigrew winced as he heard his master summon him. That and he was using his nickname. A nickname the Dark Lord had no right to call him. But Peter wouldn't complain. If he did, he'd be dead.
Peter remembered the people who came up with that name. His best friends from school. Well, ex-friends. The ones who were still alive, hated him. But then again, who didn't?
He even loathed himself. Sometimes he'd look into the mirror and get repulsed by what he saw. A short, balding man with watery eyes, but there was so much more. He saw the face of a man who had betrayed his friends, the face of the young boy who was always ridiculed, the face of a wizard who had nothing to live for.
Nothing to live for...Peter shuddered. I don't want to die.
Death was the end. Peter understood that. And he did his best to stay alive. His friends never understood that. They all were willing to die to save others and everyone thought they were brave. But Peter knew that they were just stupid.
I am the smart one. James was reckless. He shouldn't have tried to stand up against the Dark Lord. He should have joined him. Then he would be alive. But James is dead. After death was nothing. I am alive. I am alive.
"Wormtail,"came that icy voice once again, impatience seeping into its cool tone.
Peter sighed heavily and went to the Dark Lord. He would do anything to stay alive. Even if it meant helping that deranged, disgusting thing he called master. He reminded himself as he opened the decomposing wooden door.
I am alive.