Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.
Fear's Beauty
Fear was a beautiful thing.
It would show the true nature of a person. Selfish, only caring for their own life. Pettigrew proved that.
When one's eyes would widen with terror, he could see straight into their soul, see the desire for life, the uncertainty of the unknown ahead.
Many of the women he killed looked their most beautiful just before they breathed their last. He still remembered that little girl, Myrtle, the ugly duckling of the whole school, looking so unlike herself, so unearthly as she fell backwards with her life leaving her.
He took so much delight in that brief moment when people would seem glorious as they slipped into death.
But there was that one family that blasted Potter family that was different.
When James confronted death, there had only been protective rage in his eyes, in his soul. A stupidly loyal and loving husband and father to the end. Voldemort found no pleasure in killing him.
Then it was Lily's turn. Her stunning green eyes had been full of fear, but not for herself, only for her son, who was shielded behind her. He found even less pleasure in her death.
And then the son, little Harry. He couldn't show fear, he was simply a baby, he was unable to understand anything.
Voldemort found killing small children boring, but there was no other choice.
He said the spell. Felt it rebound.
And then he knew fear.
End