53 Things You Never Knew About Peter Pettigrew
1. Throughout his early life, there were two things that really bothered Peter Pettigrew.
2. The first was his height. Being short did not make life easy, especially when it came to standing up to the bigger kids in his neighbourhood or reaching for that particular leather-bound book on the top shelf of his father's bookcase. It didn't much help at Hogwarts either, where he came to be identified as the short one who goes around with Potter and Black. This, in Peter's opinion, was grossly unfair, particularly as Remus got away with the prefect who always looks like he's ill with no bloody mention of James and Sirius whatsoever.
3. His height also gave the Slytherins a wealth of insult opportunities; Avery once tripped him in the corridor and followed it up with Oh, sorry Pettigrew. I just didn't think anyone would notice if you fell over.
4. The second thing that bothered Peter was his pitiful ineptitude at magic.
5. It was not through lack of effort that he blew up his cauldron in Potions at least once a week, or that it took him the whole lesson to master a charm that everyone else picked up in minutes. But no matter how hard he struggled or how many books he snuck out of the library, nothing clicked the way it seemed to with his friends. Remus got the best grades. Sirius could've got the best grades if he hadn't been so lazy. James thought pretending not to care would win Evans over and so spent a lot of time pointedly not trying rather than easily achieving, but that was different to Peter's situation. James had made the choice to look like a stupid idiot, and no one knew better than Peter that not everyone had the luxury of such a choice.
6. Still, Peter tried not to compare himself to his fellow Marauders. And even if he did, he could safely say that he won over the others when it came to NOT crashing motorbikes into the Black Lake, NOT humiliating himself in front of girls by trying way too hard, and NOT falling asleep in the library face down in a packet of dark chocolate. Each of which, Sirius, James and Remus desperately needed schooling in.
7. If there's one thing Peter remembers of his childhood, it's the treehouse at the bottom of his garden.
8. It was nothing special, nothing to rival the underground World War Two bomb shelter that Sirius once happened upon while burying a bone in Remus's garden, but it was the one place that Peter felt he truly belonged. For starters, he had painted it himself. A lonely nine-year-old hauling pots of paint twice his weight up a creaking step ladder, wiping away the blood collecting on his scraped knees, dragging the brush slow across the wood with a certain satisfaction, breathing in the smell that filled his nostrils and eyes and forgetting to breathe out.
9. The treehouse was voted official HQ of the Marauders, with the bomb shelter used for emergencies. Peter was secretly more pleased about this than he was about getting his Hogwarts letter.
10. However, this arrangement was later cancelled by Peter's parents when James and Sirius (who were staying at Peter's over the summer to work on the Animagi plans) broke three vases, trod mud across the white carpet, caused five power cuts, put a Sirius-shaped hole in the wall and very nearly blew up the whole street with their attempt to brew fire-whiskey in the basement. After that, Mr and Mrs Pettigrew banned them from visiting ever again, claiming that their presence was critically lowering their life spans. Under the circumstances, all parties had to admit they had a point.
11. It was up in the treehouse that Peter first discovered he had magic.
12. He could tell his parents were beginning to worry when his tenth birthday came around and still he had shown no signs of magical ability; the word 'squib' was whispered anxiously across the table at dinner while Peter tried his hardest to make the salt move without touching it and stop the tears that were threatening to roll down his red cheeks.
13. A week later, next door's cat pounced on him from a low-hanging branch that had tangled itself through the treehouse roof. This took Peter so completely by surprise that he yelled and lashed out with his arms in attempt to protect himself; when he glanced up a second later, the cat was yowling in pain and thrashing about on the floor like a creature possessed while its fur sizzled in angry orange flames. Sparks had shot from his fingertips. Pretty soon, the cat was nothing more than a pile of soot, ash, air.
14. Far from being angry, his father clapped him on the back and his mother bought him a toy broomstick to celebrate, but Peter never forgot the terror in the cat's eyes; the ease of life snuffed out.
15. Peter was an only child, and more than anything, he craved a brother. Other families passed his in the street, two young boys laughing and fighting with baguettes stolen from their mother's shopping bag, or trailing behind whispering conspiracies in each other's ears. Peter walked numb beside his parents.
16. But Peter's childhood was not unhappy. Or, at least, it wasn't compared to Sirius's. They all got drunk one night in sixth year and Peter found Sirius outside in the dark corridor, shivering and crying and alone. He saw Peter and grabbed him, clung to him like he feared Peter would throw him off, and whispered that he couldn't go back home. I can't go back to that madhouse, Wormtail. I can't do it anymore. When Peter asked why not, Sirius's answers made Peter more grateful than he had ever been for the parents that loved him, for the memories he had, for the life he had lived that was free of hate and fear and misery.
17. Peter originally wanted to be sorted into Hufflepuff.
18. Waiting in the queue to be sorted, there was a boy with glasses right behind Peter who kept running a casual hand through his hair and saying loudly how he would rather die than be sorted into Slytherin. A black-haired greasy looking boy told him Slytherin didn't want conceited prats so he needn't worry. Before the other boy could reply, Peter blurted out that they didn't want walking grease factories either. The boy snarled and Peter braced himself for a tirade of abuse, but then Professor McGonagall read out the first name and the whole hall fell silent. A minute later, Peter felt a tap on his shoulder. It was the boy with glasses, grinning at him. Nice one. That greasy slimeball had it coming to him. I'm James, James Potter. What's your name?
19. The walk up to the stool where the Sorting Hat waited was the longest walk of Peter's life. Every eye was a burning needle boring into his flesh and, as he got closer, inch by inch, it became increasingly difficult to ignore the urge to turn tail and run.
20. It didn't help matters that he tripped over his shoe lace and had to be helped up by Professor McGonagall.
21. The Sorting itself was a blur. All Peter can remember with any real distinction is the word Slytherin whispered in his ear, upward, soft, like a question and then a very long pause in which Peter had a sudden flashback of the burning cat, writhing on his treehouse floor, its eyes standing out, his own eyes hot and stinging with the smoke. Suddenly the whole hall was clapping, the Gryffindor table loudest, and Peter breathed a sigh of relief. He heard warmth and acceptance in the applause and didn't want it to end when the echo of the last clap had died. The spotlight moved on to the next first-year, treading in his footprints, taking up his seat on the small wooden stool.
22. He tripped over again on the way to the Gryffindor table, but he likes to tell himself no one saw. Well, except Sirius that is, who teased him about it for the whole of that year.
23. Peter's honest first impression of Sirius Black was not good. In fact, he made a mental note to keep well away from that loud boy who emptied a tureen of soup on Peter's head and then wore the empty tureen himself like a helmet, hollering some kind of Amazonian war cry with accompanying dance moves that he performed on top of the table while everyone else wildly cheered him on.
24. The food fight that later commenced was started by James flicking a carrot at the head of the greasy black-haired boy from the queue. Sirius also had a hand in it; a literal hand in a bowl of mashed potato, scooping up as much as he could before hurling it at the Slytherin table.
25. This fact, however, did not stop all four of the Marauders serving detention. On the way out of McGonagall's office, Peter overheard one of the portraits saying to its neighbour that it was the first time in history that four first-years had been given detention on their very first night.
26. In between the madness of Sirius's laugh and the wit of James's comebacks, Remus Lupin was Peter's safety net. He was quiet. He listened. He worked hard. Most importantly, he didn't laugh at you if you asked for help. In fact, Remus was happy to give help, unlike Sirius who deliberately gave him wrong answers just to see the look on Binns's face when Peter told him that the wizard who defeated the goblin armies in the 13th century had been Albus Dumbledore.
27. It was Peter, then, who was most shocked when James pointed to a section entitled Lycanthropy in a dusty old textbook with his mouth hanging open. Sirius wouldn't believe it. James was furious that they'd had to find out from a bloody textbook in the first place and not from Remus himself.
28. Peter, though he's ashamed to admit it now, was silent and fearful as the ever-present darkness in Remus's eyes suddenly began to look threatening with the realisation of what his monthly absences concealed. The next day, Peter went to McGonagall's office, laid his hand on the knocker. He paced backwards and forwards, needing to get the secret out of his system, torn between loyalty and instinct, no longer able to tell which was which.
29. The confrontation was one of the worst days of Peter's life. Sirius locked the dormitory door, James cornered the trembling Remus against the wall and Peter stood as still as possible, wanting to get out of the deafening quiet and the fear in Remus's naked eyes. Tell us the truth. James's voice was low and cold. Are you or are you not a werewolf? Peter wanted the lie and it was like a slap in the face when Remus's head tipped forwards. He looked like he was going to cry. Then James started shouting, harsh things that no one heard. Sirius was uncharacteristically silent. And Peter moved behind them because Remus wasn't the same anymore.
30. If asked what he is proud of in life, Peter will not hesitate to answer the idea of becoming Animagi.
31. If asked what he regrets, the list will be much longer but eventually he'll say giving three bottles of Fire-whiskey to Sirius to hold while he went to the toilet at the Quidditch after party. Suffice to say that the bottles were empty when he got back and so was the nearest broom cupboard, the fruit bowl in the kitchen and a whole box of Zonko's fireworks.
32. Peter wasn't stupid: he knew deep down that people wondered. Sirius and James had their wit, their looks, their wicked sense of humour, with Remus as their long-suffering older brother. And then there was Peter. How come that short kid is friends with Black and Potter? Why do they put up with him? The whispers were like sharp nails scraping at his skin. Sirius and James hexed anyone that tried to make them more than whispers, but still they were there behind cupped hands, putting sweat on the back of his neck as he walked to class and pretended not to hear.
33. Though no one in the group would ever say so, Peter often felt that if it hadn't been for that first day in the sorting queue, he would have been just another of the unpopulars whose lives James and Sirius liked to make a living hell.
34. Peter never liked Quidditch.
35. Even when he tried out for the team in sixth year, he was only doing it because he wanted in on James and Sirius's heated debates about whether Edgar Bones should play as Seeker or Chaser, or whether Gryffindor should be improving their tactics or their teamwork.
36. This was right before James accused Sirius of being a backseat driver and Sirius shouted that James was a rubbish Captain anyway and James punched him in the nose and Sirius put James in a headlock. Remus rolled his eyes at Peter. I'll bet you two sickles on Sirius. Peter grinned. You're on. Sirius and James were too busy rolling on the floor to hear. So it's true what the Slytherins are saying; you really do fight like a bloody Muggle, Prongs. Or maybe it's just that I'm making you look that bad. As if, Padfoot! Have you looked in a mirror recently? I'm proud of that black eye I've given you. Really brings out your eyes.
37. Sirius was Peter's first kiss, but that isn't really the kind of thing one wants advertised.
38. At a party in seventh year, Peter glanced around to find Mary MacDonald too close to him, her arms sticky around his neck, her lips parted and getting closer. It lasted a few seconds, after which he realised the churning in his stomach, the churning that he had thought was nerves, was actually something far more offensive. He wrenched away from Mary just in time.
39. In time to avoid throwing up all over her, that is. Not in time to get to a quiet cubicle where no one could see (and by no one he meant Sirius) and consequently have no grounds on which to make up the nickname Pettispew.
40. Sirius's prank on Snape changed things for Peter. Up until then, he had been the only one with fear for the wolf inside Remus, the wolf that could not be controlled, the wolf that he had only recently learnt to separate from his quiet bookish best friend. But Snape cringing on the floor with his eyes bulging out in terror made him forget all that. What had they been thinking? A werewolf is a bloody werewolf. He didn't realise he was crying until James muttered Quit snivelling Wormtail. I'm the one who's gonna have to miss Quidditch tomorrow.
41. Peter hated the Order of the Phoenix.
42. Day by day their plans grew vague, their defences became weak and all the while the Dark Mark was waiting outside their doors, brighter than the stars in the night sky. Once he asked Remus why they weren't joining You Know Who, and the look Remus gave him made Peter feel smaller than ever. Because he's killing people, Peter. More and more innocent people every day, and all he cares about is power and pureblood. If he had his way, do you think I'd be allowed to live a normal life? Do you think they'd spare Lily? I'd rather die than join him. Peter agreed and apologised, said he was only speculating, but inside, everything was turmoil.
43. It was the death of Marlene McKinnon and her family that drove Peter to hold out his left arm and whimper at the pain of that skeletal white wand etching betrayal into his skin. This was the only way to end the war: to join him, to let him know that he had power, to show him that he did not have to kill. There was no point pretending otherwise. But in that moment, in the darkness of the graveyard surrounded by cold eyes and with blood trickling down his arm, Peter needed his friends beside him more than ever. The crowd of Deatheaters laughed at the tears that he tried to blink back.
44. Peter would not have said that betraying James and Lily was a choice. On the contrary, he would have said that they left him with no choice.
45. As James opened his mouth to reveal the secret the Dark Lord wanted, Peter had the sudden urge to put his hands over his ears and turn away. Sirius was supposed to be the Secret Keeper, Sirius who could fight off three Deatheaters at once and merely laughed when Mad Eye warned them not to do anything reckless. Peter had never wanted blood on his hands, but each word from James was another seal on both their fates.
46. The Dark Lord only had to use Crucio once before the words were spilling from Peter's mouth as he knew they would. He was weak and pathetic, and he has never hated himself so much as he did in that second when Voldemort's eyes narrowed to a smile and the high cold voice, worse than any curse, rang out in Peter's ears. So you have been useful after all, Wormtail.
47. Even when Voldemort had left and Peter was alone again, he clung to the idea that James could still forget his loyalty and courage and, for once in his life, just run. Forget being a Gryffindor. Forget Lily. Forget the baby. He could still get the hell out of there before it was too late. Moony and Padfoot, too. All sins would be forgiven, washed like a prayer over Peter's blood-stained hands, and the four of them would run and keep running, away from this darkness that was beginning to close in around him.
48. Cutting off the finger was something that happened in the moment. Sirius was before him, looking more broken than Peter had thought possible and his voice shook with anger. They were your friends; they would've died for you. Peter was seeing stars, Voldemort's cold smile twisting his mouth, the ugly truth of the situation filling up his head and clouding his judgement. But Mulciber had given him a knife. Kill Black with this so you can make it look like a Muggle attack. Just don't fuck it up, Pettigrew. Peter saw the empty soup tureen, the wrong answers, the teasing, the nicknames and he shouted lies blindly, like a defence. Then the knife moved and his finger was gone, and the pain was only matched by the trust shattering in Sirius's eyes.
49. Given the choice again, Peter would have gladly faced Azkaban in Sirius's place. At least it was better than spending twelve years as a fat, mistreated rodent.
50. Those twelve years trapped in that tiny mind turned him bitter. Sirius and James had never noticed him. Remus…well, Remus was an outcast, a half breed. Always Peter had been overlooked, never above average, his efforts amounting to nothing, and in the end, he forgot. He forgot what Sirius's laugh sounded like. He forgot the colour of James's eyes. He forgot how Remus used to smile when Peter got an answer right in class, and how that smile was worth more than all the house points in the world.
51. He forgot, until he saw them all again; two out of three, that is. Then the memories came flooding back, because the Shrieking Shack had not changed at all when Peter finally became himself once more: there was still blood on the walls, Moony's blood, and the window on the left was smashed from where James had punched it in a fit of anger after Evans's forty-eighth rejection. When Moony and Padfoot turned their wands on him with murder written on their faces, Peter wondered that they could not remember their first night as Animagi, the failed Honeyduke's raid, cutting their palms in the moonlight and gripping each other's hands as their blood mingled and made them brothers.
Harry, Peter did not look at.
52. After that night, Peter became Wormtail. Not the Wormtail who had signed his name with a flourish on the Marauder's Map, not the Wormtail who had felt guilty about stealing from Honeyduke's, not the Wormtail who had spent hours in the library researching lycanthropy to see if he could make his friend's transformations even the tiniest bit easier. This Wormtail was cold. He killed and slept at night. He obeyed orders unquestioningly.
Peter's nickname had once meant belonging and though it still meant belonging, now he belonged to something very different.
53. Harry's eyes were clouding over and his face was turning blue as Wormtail's fingers squeezed his throat tighter, forcing the life out, hearing applause in his head, but then something happened. Not the choked words that Harry gasped out next: You're going to kill me? After I saved your life? But something else, something that reached deep inside Wormtail and found Peter crouching in the shadows.
In that second, Harry looked exactly like James.
And Peter glanced down at the silver hand, the hand that had always seemed so beautiful and now looked false, ugly, lethal, and he woke up from the bad dream he had been living in for so long. Harry's face, James's face, laughing as he flung an arm around Peter's shoulders. Harry's eyes, Lily's eyes, warm and smiling at him from beneath the wedding arch. The silver hand relaxed its grip almost in shock. Peter looked up at Harry and opened his mouth to tell him it was all going to be okay, but the hand was creeping towards his own throat now and he was far, far too late.
He wasn't surprised when James and Sirius struggled to wrench the hand away. They had always looked out for Peter, always, whenever anyone had said a word against him, there they would be, standing up in his defence, always ready with an insult Peter could never have thought of or a hex he could never have got right. From the corner of the room, Remus smiled at him, a smile that told stories of detentions and full moons and midnight feasts and four brothers, and Peter tried to smile back but the life was leaving him. The blood was burning on his hands. James and Sirius and Remus were dead. It was all his fault.
The last thing he saw was Harry and he looked so much like James, so much like Lily. Then the darkness finally closed in.
A/N Just thought I'd leave a quick note: this fic is a sequel of sorts to my first fic 53 Things You Never Knew About Sirius Black. I know Sirius is a lot more popular as a character in the grand scheme of things, but, to me, Peter is always forgotten, or else completely demonized. I wanted to explore the Peter that we never really got to see, the Peter that loved his friends and the Peter that may have just regretted everything that went wrong.
Thank you so much for reading! It really means the world to me :) if you enjoyed this, be sure to check out my other one-shot 53 Things You Never Knew About Sirius Black, or leave me a review telling me what you thought - reviews make my day :) I'll hopefully be uploading Remus's and James's 53 Things shortly... let me know if you'll be reading those as well :)
Thanks again!
Christy x