The Many Failures of Peter Pettigrew

[A/N at the end]

* Thanks to CP, AJ, and 2D for the betas *

There were only four people that Peter Pettigrew had ever looked up to in his life: Remus, James, and Sirius. He had admired each one because they had qualities that he himself didn't possess but craved nonetheless.

Remus had always been the 'brains' of their group of friends, exceedingly intelligent and with a sharp tongue, he was the consummate Hogwarts student. James had been the kindest of them all, extremely witty, and the leader behind all their greatest pranks and plans, not to mention one of Hogwarts' greatest Quidditch players.

And then there was Sirius. For some reason, Peter had always felt the most similar to him. He wasn't as brilliant as Sirius, nowhere near as handsome, and he certainly wasn't as cunning but there was something in his friend that made him gravitate towards him like a moth to a flame. It was Sirius he went to in times of stress and trouble. It was Sirius whom he told when he'd accidentally spilt magical ink on their map. And it was Sirius whom he looked up to the most.

Sirius was the only person that he had ever truly tried to embody, yet, despite his attempts, Peter would never even be half of what his friend was. Despite wanting to embody Sirius, he had become the antithesis of everything his friend was, and is. He had spent all his adolescent, and early adulthood, trying to embody Remus' intelligence, James' wittiness and planning, and Sirius' brilliance. But no matter what he did, he was always just Peter. Always the helper and never being the hero or the one that people looked up to. He was always the average Marauder. And now, he was a coward and a traitor. A person who would do anything to survive another day.

When Peter had crossed paths with the Death Eaters during an Order mission, he had found that suddenly, he wasn't under his friends' shadows anymore. He was his own person and comparable to nobody but himself. The people he had looked up to, his friends, were replaced by the Dark Lord. Remus' intelligence and James' wittiness was nothing compared to the Dark Lord's unyielding vision for a better world, his immense magical prowess, and his ability to command power.

His desire to become an amalgamation of all his friend's best qualities disappeared and was replaced with an unquenchable thirst for power, glory, and a chance to prove himself. To prove that he was more than who his friends were. To be more than an average wizard.

And yet, there would always be that infuriating voice in the back of his mind. This niggling feeling that would appear whenever he did something against his true moral code. Sirius' voice would always question his actions and Peter, no matter how hard he tried, could never get him to leave.

x

The sewers were dank with rot and Peter scurried along the edge of the pipe, making sure to stay away from the murky water where questionable objects floated around.

Above him he could hear the muffled hysterical laughter through the gutter and the unmistakable sounds of people apparating, and he was relieved as he turned back into a man and leaned against the wall. His body was covered in dust and ash, and he wondered what do now.

He fought the feelings that bubbled up in his chest as he thought of his friends. Lily and James were dead because of him; and now Sirius was going to spend the rest of his life in Azkaban. Harry was going to grow up an orphan, and Remus was going to spend the rest of his transformations alone. But it was all worth it if he could just manage to survive for another day.

His master was dead and his followers were probably fleeing the country or going into hiding. There was nothing left for him to do and nowhere he could go. Peter nursed his hand as he walked deeper into the pipes.

x

The iron gate creaked as he opened it and looked at the ruined house. Half of Lily and James' cottage was blown apart and he could hear a muffled cry of a baby as he crossed the lawn and entered their home.

Peter's heart clenched with pain while he moved over the threshold and was met with James' lifeless body. His eyes were wide open and his glasses were cracked. He was in striped blue pyjamas – a Christmas gift from him – and his wand was nowhere near him. Had he died without his wand?

Peter bent down and shut James' hazel eyes, fighting the guilt that threatened to surface. Why should he feel guilty for looking out for himself? He paused at the cracked door of Harry's nursery; bracing himself for whatever he might see. With tentative steps, Peter stepped around the door and gasped at the sight of the nursery.

The room was completely ruined; the ceiling had been blasted away and there was a gaping hole where there was supposed to be a window. Shards of wood, glass, and thatch were strewn across the brown carpet, and Peter paused as he saw a mass of black.

His master's pale face peeked out from underneath his cloak and Peter's hands shook as he took the white bone-like wand from his lifeless hands and stuffed it in his pocket. He didn't know what he'd do with it but he had a feeling it would be useful eventually. If not, he could use it for his own purposes.

Across from the Dark Lord was Lily. Her hair splayed out behind her as she lay with her legs bent and her torso facing upward. Peter stepped closer and noticed that she didn't have her wand on her either. Her blank emerald eyes were wide open and Peter turned to the crying baby in the cot before he could remind himself of all the other times he'd looked into those eyes.

Harry looked a little bigger and taller than when he had last seen him. His hair was as wild as James' and his eyes as green as Lily's. His little face was streaked with tears and covered in dirt and dust; and Peter noticed the raw red scar on his forehead. Harry gripped onto the bars of his crib and cried for his mum as she lay dead on the floor. His mobile, decorated with golden snitches, broomsticks, and quaffles rotating and twinkling softly with music.

A thought occurred to Peter and he realised that he could end his master's deed right now. He could kill this boy and be done with it. If the Dark Lord ever came back, he would be hailed as a hero for killing the baby. For vanquishing the only threat to the Dark Lord and his vision for a better world. All it would take was one curse.

This is it, he thought. Two words, a movement of his wand and all of it would be over. Now it was he who was the powerful one. Powerful enough to do what his master couldn't. Now was his chance to prove himself to be more than just another average wizard. James' blank eyes and Sirius' voice of reason echoed and flashed in his mind but he tamped it down with a coldness that wasn't unlike his master.

Power, glory, and the opportunity to prove himself was there, right at the tip of his fingers. A green flash of light and it would be all over, the threat would be defeated. Peter pressed the tip of his wand against the baby's forehead, a cold chill creep into his heart as he took a deep breath and prepared to cast the curse.

"Avada – "

Peter lowered his wand as the thundering sound of a motorbike roared outside and fear chilled his muscles and ceased his movements. There was only one person with a motorbike that loud and Peter's heart beat furiously as he heard heavy footsteps bound into the house.

He looked frantically around the room and realised there was nowhere to hide. So as the footsteps made their way up the stairs, Peter turned on the spot and apparated with a loud pop.

The last thing he saw was Sirius's wide eyed stare as he entered the room.

x

"Peter fucking Pettigrew, as I live and breathe."

Peter thought he had picked the safest place in the world to hide from Sirius. But as the black haired menace stepped closer to him, he smiled nervously and whimpered as he stepped back and away from him.

Sirius had a mad glint in his eyes and there was something terribly unhinged about him. He was thinner than the last time he'd seen him, he had grown a patchy beard and there were deep bags under his eyes. He looked older and his face and neck were marred by fresh cuts and wounds.

"What a surprise to see you, Padfoot!" Peter choked out.

Sirius laughed maniacally and darted forward before Peter could move. His hand wrapped around his throat painfully and a few muggles stared cautiously at the exchange between them. "Don't you dare call me that. You're a dirty rotten coward, Peter, and I ought to kill you for what you did." His hand tightened around Peter's throat and he struggled to breathe as the edges of Sirius' head blurred. His old friend loosened his grip as both of them took a few deep breaths; Sirius glared at Peter with disdain and disgust. "Why did you do it, Peter?"

Peter clawed at Sirius' hands around his throat and the man removed his vice grip from his neck. He had never fully appreciated how refreshing the air entering his lungs were until it had been cut off.

"I didn't do anything!" Sirius scoffed at him and stepped closer with his finger twitching as he pulled out his wand. "You're mad!"

"I'm mad? You betrayed Lily and James. You sold them to Voldemort. You killed your friends, and for what Peter? For glory? For power?" Sirius raised his wand and aimed it at Peter's chest resolutely. "I always knew you were a coward, but I didn't think you were a traitor. Why did you do it?"

Something snapped in Peter's body when Sirius called him a coward. Was it cowardice to want to live? To want some recognition and power? Was it cowardice to save your own neck?

"You don't know anything. It was me or them; I made my choice. You would've done the same." At this point, Peter registered a crowd of muggles assembling close by, whispering quietly to themselves and staring wondrously at the odd looking pair.

"Do you really think I'd have done the same?" Sirius chuckled darkly and jabbed the tip of his wand into Peter's collarbone. "I would have died rather than betray Lily and James. Do you know what you've done? Do you know how much pain you've caused?" Peter grunted in pain as Sirius dug his wand deeper into his skin. "Lily and James are dead because of you. I know you saw them. I saw you leave." Peter shook his head as the images resurfaced. "Harry's going to grow up without them because of you."

"SHUT UP!" Peter wheezed as the wand made it harder to breathe the deeper it sunk onto the surface of his skin. "

"No, you're going to fucking listen to me, Peter, because you owe me, you owe Lily and James. You're pathetic. You're a spineless coward. You were our friend. We trusted you with everything, we loved you, Peter. We would have protected you if the tables were turned." Peter shook his head and felt hatred and resentment bubble underneath his skin as he thought of a way to escape. "I never understood why you picked a rat for an animagus. There were a hundred different options and you picked a rat." Sirius's eyes flashed with violence and not for the first time did Peter feel fear. "And now I get it. Rats are the most resourceful animals on earth, they have an uncanny talent for staying alive, and turn on their families if they're desperate enough. Now, who does that sound like Peter?"

Sirius pressed his wand tip further into Peter's throat, and a few tears escaped and cascaded down his face as the truth of Sirius' words settled into his head. The bubbles of anger grew and consumed his heart and Peter suddenly wanted to kill this man he had once considered a friend. "You d-don't know how powerful the Dark Lord is S-Sirius. I had no choice."

"No choice? You always had a choice, but you chose wrong." Sirius momentarily took his wand away from Peter's throat and used it to push the sleeve up along his arm. A dark tattoo was branded on his skin. "You betrayed all of us the second you got this, this thing. You're a disease, Peter, you don't deserve to live." As Sirius withdrew his wand from his arm and aimed at his chest, Peter pulled his own wand out from his pocket and cast a curse that he'd heard Rosier mention during a Death Eater meeting.

An enormous boom roared through the little street and a blinding purple light exploded from the tip his wand. Smoke, dust, and rubble flew everywhere around him, and before the dust settled, Peter sliced his right index finger off and transfigured himself into a rat. He scuttled into a nearby grate and landed into cloudy brown water.

x

Peter had been on the run for months, scurrying around as a rat on the surface and stealing food. He would bring back it back to the pipes and eat underground as a human.

He had grown accustomed to the rotten smell of the sewers and felt more at home underground than on the surface. Earlier he had transformed into a human above ground and caught a peek of his reflection in a shop window. His hair was straggly and covered in brown muck; his eyes had gotten narrower since he had last looked in a mirror and his skin was pale and dirty. He looked on the verge of death and felt like it, too.

But being on the verge of death was better than actually being dead. Survival had always been his prerogative, and anything was acceptable if it meant he would live.

He hadn't spoken to anyone since the incident with Sirius, and he felt less than human. In fact, he was sure that his features were slowly becoming more rat-like the more he spent his time as one.

A few weeks later, someone picked him up as he scurried to a nearby bin, and he struggled in the man's hand until they entered the Leaky Cauldron. Peter never thought he'd be able to return to this world, to their world.

He committed the sight, smells, and sounds of Diagon Alley to his memory as he was taken to the Magical Menagerie and handed to the shopkeeper who cast a few spells on him and made him drink some type of foul tasting tonic.

Peter didn't have a clue how long he spent in the shop, sitting in his cage and watching children look through the different creatures in the store. He was being fed and kept warm so he had nothing to complain about. Every now and then he'd hear little tidbits of news about the Death Eaters; all of them were in hiding, imprisoned, or back in their normal lives.

A newspaper headline told him that Sirius had been imprisoned to life in Azkaban and Peter's heart felt heavy as he processed the news. For the first time in months, that familiar voice spoke up again and Peter tried to quash down the guilt he felt.

It was summer when a curly ginger haired boy bought him and took him home to an odd looking house where he lived for the next twelve years.

x

Lucius Malfoy dropped his coat into his arms and Narcissa followed suit, neither of them sparing a glance or word to him while their shoes clicked as they walked towards a archway at the end of the cavernous hallway.

It had been two years since he'd crossed paths with Sirius at Hogwarts, and a year since his master had returned. He had thought that he would be welcomed back with open arms for finding the Dark Lord and helping him become whole and powerful again, but he was sorely mistaken.

After the remaining Death Eaters had broken out of Azkaban, he had become completely invisible, and, at best, was treated like a servant.

"Wormtail!" Peter winced at the deadly voice speaking in his mind as he hung the Malfoy's coats up haphazardly and walked towards the room at the end of the hall. A long table was seated with Death Eater's from all around the country, and Peter cowered as they sneered and glared at him. "Where is our guest?"

"I-I'm s-s-sorry my lord, I'll go and get her now."

His master's red eyes gleamed in the dark room and Peter scurried to the dungeon and retrieved the prisoner.

"Peter," she wept. "Peter, please help me." She grabbed his wrist and she flinched as he glared back at her. "You can't take me to them, please." He hissed at her to be quiet and grabbed her wrist with his silver hand. "If you let me go I'll help you escape. Sirius and Remus will help me, they're your friends aren't they?"

With his silver hand firmly wrapped around her thin wrist, Peter waved his wand with the other and Emmeline's begs turned into nothing more than meek grunts. He shoved her into the meeting room and the rest of the Death Eaters laughed as her knees hit the floor.

"Ahh! Here's our guest now," his master chided as he suspended the woman in the air to everyone's delight. Peter felt sick as Bellatrix slashed her wand and a bloody patch materialised against Emmeline's ribs. "Now, now, Bella, we mustn't get too ahead of ourselves." The Dark Lord's snake, Nagini, coiled herself around her master's neck and shoulders, her beady black eyes staring hungrily at the witch. "Wormtail, would you care to enlighten us as to who our guest is tonight."

Peter felt sick as the Dark Lord jeered at him.

"Th-this is Emmeline Vance."

"And why is Miss Vance important?" Bellatrix cackled with laughter and the others followed suit as Peter avoided the Dark Lord's penetrating glare.

"She's a m-member of the Order of the Phoenix."

"Right you are. Wormtail. You festering piece of flesh." Everyone laughed at him except for Narcissa and Severus, both of whom looked at him with disdain. Peter bowed and turned his back on the group before a chilling voice breathed from the other side of the room. "I did not say you could leave, Wormtail."

"My lord?" Peter bowed low to the pale figure and shivered as a chair scraped and soft footsteps padded closer to him. He kept his eyes to the floor and took a deep breath as a pale pair of feet materialised on the ground.

"You will help me discipline Miss Vance."

Ice cold dread froze his veins and he knew what he had to do. That familiar voice in his head pleaded for him not to do anything, to fight and to preserve life, but he was too far gone. He would die if he didn't do what he was asked; but a persistent voice in his head pleaded for him to stop. To see sense and have the courage to step away. He had once thought of leaving, when the voice in his head – Sirius' voice – had given him a surge of rare courage.

He had been ready to leave it all behind, and yet, there was a stronger voice, a burning feeling in his stomach that had urged him to stay. It had urged him to stay because if he didn't, he would be average again; all the chances he'd have of being powerful and glorious would be swiftly taken away from him. So he had stayed. He had tortured, maimed, killed, and mutilated innocent people for his survival and fragile hold on power.

He had joined the Death Eaters for his protection. He had been on the losing side of a deadly war, and the odds of the Dark Lord winning out were high. But as he pulled out his wand mechanically and cast a dark curse on his former classmate, an unfamiliar feeling - perhaps remorse? - settled into his stomach; eventually, when Emmeline was completely bruised and bloody, a bright green light erupted from the end of his wand and the snake swallowed the woman whole.

x

"Stand back, stand away from the door." Peter gripped the door handle and hesitated for a moment. "I am coming in."

Three glowing balls of light floated around the seemingly empty cellar and Peter's hairs stood on the back of his neck. He took a few tentative steps forward before he was attacked by two heavy bodies, one hand was struggling to grab his wand and the other was clamped shut over his mouth. The orbs of light drew nearer, and Peter got a glimpse of messy black hair before he reached out and clamped his silver hand around the boy's throat.

Lucius shouted and his former owner as a rat yelled back in a startlingly good impression of him. Peter considered biting the boy's hand so he could call for help but his silver hand only closed tighter around his scrawny neck. He could break it right now and be done with it.

"You're going to kill me?" Even as he was choking out his words, Peter could hear the similarity in his voice and James'. "After I saved your life? You owe me, Wormtail!"

And without any warning, his silver fingers loosened around the boy's neck and Harry stumbled backwards, breathing deeply and massaging his now red throat as his other hand remained clamped around Peter's mouth.

Peter was at a loss on why his hand had acted of its own accord. He had had no power over it. It twitched at his side and Peter couldn't stop looking at the shiny metal with wonder.

"And we'll have that," Ron whispered as Peter felt the wand being tugged out of his other hand.

Wandless and confused, Peter watched in horror as the silver hand – his hand – creeped towards his throat. Peter tried to move his head away from it but could do nothing as the silvery appendage clamped around his throat with a vice grip.

Peter had heard of people's lives flashing before their eyes when they died, and as he struggled to breathe, he realised that they were all right. Images of his life flashed in his mind. The faces of his friends, the fun they used to have together, and his betrayal replayed over and over in what seemed like an endless expanse of time.

His vision became blurry and he heard the frantic shouts and attempts at pulling his hand away from his throat, but to no avail.

He had told Sirius, and himself, that he had betrayed his friends for survival. But that was a lie.

He had betrayed Lily and James and sold them to Voldemort for the promise of praise and power among the Death Eaters. He had been ready to kill their son for the glory of completing his master's work. For years, he had helped the Death Eaters ruin good and honest people's lives, the true extent of his actions were never felt by him until now.

He was spineless for never even trying to break away from it all and was even more contemptible for relishing in other people's pain. Until he had been given a taste of their treatment.

He had done unspeakable things; betrayed and lied for gain; and sold his soul to the proverbial, perhaps actual, devil for a miniscule slice of power. But the thing about power was that it was easily taken, and all the vile things he'd done were for naught. He had been treated as their servant and was a creature less than human. Sirius was right, he was always right. He was a rat.

He gasped desperately for air, and all the while, Sirius' words to him all those years ago repeated themselves in his head like a broken record…

You're a disease Peter, you don't deserve to live…

Peter clawed at his throat and desperately tried to pry the hand away with a sudden surge of adrenaline. His legs and arms twitched as he gasped breathlessly.

I deserve this, he thought.

He was a disease and if he was left alive, he knew himself well enough to know that he would betray someone else; ruin someone else's life. He would corrupt himself, and everyone around him, in his desire for power and it was a poetic justice that he should die by his own hand. Especially after everything he'd done.

You're a disease Peter…

Hundreds of faces flashed through his mind. Faces of people he had killed and tortured. The faces of people he had betrayed and conned. And the faces of his friends, the people that he should have stood by loyally and fought for.

The last face was Sirius', repeating his words to him with the same malice and venom that he'd had all those years ago in that street.

You don't deserve to live.

Exhausted, Peter dropped to his knees and he heard a terrible scream as his eyes rolled behind his head.

Author's Note

Word Count: 4,319

Written for the Houses Competition

House: Ravenclaw

Category: Themed

Prompt: [Character] Sirius Black

I hope you all enjoyed this story x

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Until next time, Andy x