Disclaimer
Obviously, anything you recognize is not mine, it is J.K. Rowlings, but anything you don't recognize is mine, yeah that's right, PETERS DAD IS MINE.
Sorry, my brain isn't functioning properly.
It really was better this way, for him anyways; better that no one could see his betrayal. He did not want this to be any harder than it had to be. He had been shifting through his options for months before he realized that there were no options. No matter what He said, there had never been any options, not if he wanted to survive, he always did whatever it took to survive, and some people said he had good survival instincts, others called it selfishness.
That was why he had to keep fighting against his friends and his family, he had no other choice, and it was as simple as that. Becoming a spy was all that was left, he knew after tonight his loyalties would no longer be with the Order, but with the Death Eaters. He would keep pretending, no one would suspect him, little Peter Pettigrew, of betrayal, the thought made his stomach burn with anxiety. He did not want to do this, he truly did love his friends, and he did not want to be the reason for their deaths.
His thoughts were suddenly cut off by a bright light zooming in his direction.
"To the bottoms of hell you filthy, dirty Death Eaters" screamed a voice in the darkness.
Peter recognized that voice, it was a voice so familiar to him he knew he would always be able to recognize it, no matter where they were. It was Charlie Pettigrew, his father and one of his best friends. The voice kept on yelling and coming closer and Peter could find no safe escape for there were curses flying from every direction and there was no way to see where they were coming from. Pointing his wand in the direction he thought his father was approaching him from, he skillfully cast a spell without uttering a word. The Dark Lord had made them practice their non-verbal spells constantly, making sure that his Death Eaters had the upper hand in the majority of duels.
There came a cry of pain and Peter knew the spell had hit the intended target, he also knew, had there been light in the great room he would not of been able to pull such a thing over on Charlie.
"You foul, loathsome, cruel monster, you'll see what happens when you mess with me or my family! STUPEFY!" his dad cried, furious.
Had his father been capable of non-verbal spells, Peter would have been knocked out on the spot, discovered for his treachery, and sent to Azkaban, but seeing as Charlie was not able to do non-verbal spells, his cry had given Peter all the warning he needed to be able to jump out of the way of the oncoming red light. It deeply hurt Peter; battling against his flesh and blood, his own father. He kept remembering all of the times they had, had together, their father and son talks, their strolls in the park, throwing a ball back and forth. He kept picturing Charlie's face, what it would look like if he knew it was Peter he was fighting against.
Having thought that his spell had hit his target his father growled, sounding slightly triumphant, "That's what you deserve; I hope one of the killing curses your chums are firing manages to hit you. Maybe then you'll realize just how worthless you really are."
Scrunching up his face in concentration, trying to hold back all the guilt he was feeling, Peter cast another spell off at the arrogant man, causing him to double over wheezing to catch his breath. It was not as if Peter wanted to cause his father pain, but he had no choice, his master would know if he stopped the attack, it was his initiation, his desensitization, and if he stopped the Dark Lord would know why, for he was extremely capable of seeing into Peter's head. As soon as Voldemort knew Peter was feeling compassion for his former family that would be the end of Peter. Voldemort did not let men of compassion join the ranks of his Death Eaters.
Though he knew Charlie never would, he fervently hoped that his father would give up and go find someone else to duel. Peter knew his dads dueling style too well, and it was not that he was a horrid dueler; he only ever lost when he let his emotions get in the way, and it was obvious now, by the way he was bad mouthing Peter, his emotions were getting out of hand. Peter knew from the very moment the lights went out he was going to have to kill someone, he had hoped it would not be family, but the Dark Lord had probably made sure his dad was the first to find him during the duel. He knew he was going to have to kill his own father.
Tightly closing his eyes the young boy pointed his wand at Charlie and muttered quietly under his breath "sectumsempra".
He knew before he said the curse that there would be no cure the people in the Order could give the wounded man before he bled out. There was no way to search for help, it was a sure death for his father, and there was no hope for anymore of a future. Peter would no longer be able to look his father in the eyes, or to ask him for guidance about his friends or girls and it was all Peter's fault.
He had killed his own father.
He had killed his own father.
He kept repeating that in his head, and every time he said it, it cut a new piece off of his heart until there was nothing left. Now when he said it he felt nothing, he saw nothing, his Masters plan had worked and Peter had been desensitized. Nothing mattered; he knew that from that moment on he would be capable of doing anything the Dark Lord asked of him. It would no longer be a problem, nor would it cause him any pain.
Peter was running out of the building with his fellow Death Eaters, none of whom felt any remorse over the fact that they had all killed, and Peter could now understand why. There really was nothing worse than killing one of your creators, there was nothing worse than killing your father. It was hard to feel any emotion, let alone remorse.
Before Peter left the grounds for good he turned and pointed his wand at the sky and whispered "Morsmordre".
Out of his wand shot a slithering green light that flew into the sky above the house, and it twisted and warped into a green skull with a serpentine tongue crawling from its mouth.
Taking in a big gulp of air Peter turned his back on the tiny house and disapparted on the spot, leaving his old life behind so he could commence his new one.
AN: So, this was for EveryShadeOfDeath's Character and scene challenge on the HPFC, my character was Peter Pettigrew, my scene was dueling in the dark.
What did you think of it? Good, bad, mediocre? Let me know through a review!
Forever yours,
Molly Short