A/N: After reading fanfiction after fanfiction, I have come to realize that there is always one person sorely left out. I am quite certain that he is as intellectual, philosophical, and emotional as the next fictional character. Well, I, for one, am tired of this injustice. Therefore, I, Blossom the Mighty, have taken on the arduous task of…
My Name is Peter Pettigrew
Part 1: I am a perpetual loser.
(In which we realize that Petie is, in fact, a perpetual loser)
Peter Polonius Pettigrew, that's my name. Peter for my grandfather, Polonius for my mother's love of Shakespeare, Pettigrew for…Pettigrew. Family name, you know. Funny sort of last name, isn't it? Pet-I-Grew. Pet-IIIIIIIIIIIII-grew. Petty-grew. I prefer Pete.
When I was but a wee boy, not quite knee high to a grasshopper, I performed my first magic spell. I made my fifty year old, balding dad turn into a young blonde woman. At least, that's what my mother told me. I was very proud, so I told all my school friends. For some reason, they laughed at me. I think they were just jealous that I was a wizard and they were just stupid Muggles. I tried turning this kid Jason into a young blonde woman, but it didn't work. Instead, I wet my pants and ran home crying. All in all, not such a bad day.
I never had many friends growing up. Mum called me a loner. Meghan-daddy called me a doofus. The kids at school called me Wet-Pants Pete. Once, though, there was this girl…Her name was Allie. She had short blonde hair and eyes like the grass, only…well; they were eyes, not grass. And I don't mean grass in the winter, when it's all brown and icky - I mean spring grass, green and fresh and pretty. She was very pretty.
The first time I saw her, I fell in love. She was eating cheese at the time. Cheddar, I believe. I really like cheese, even at that early age, so I decided to talk to her.
"Hello," I wheedled. "My name is Pete Pettigrew. Can we be friends?"
She looked me over with a discriminating glare in those grass-green eyes. "Pettigrew?" Her voice was the music of angels. "Mum told me to stay away from the Pettigrews. She says that they're weird folks; keep hamsters in the basement or something. I don't think we can be friends, Pete. I'm sorry."
My jaw dropped. We did NOT have hamsters in the basement, just slugs and boxes of thing labeled MUM'S TOYS. No gerbils whatsoever. I wanted desperately to tell her this, but by the time my jaw was back in its proper place, she was gone, my heart and her cheese gone with her.
Well. Nice old wound to open up.
* * *
When I was eleven, my mum told me that I would be attending Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry come September 1st. "But mum," I responded in my oh-so innocent squeal, "I didn't get a letter! I can't go unless I have a letter!" She'd told me all about Hogwarts, of course, she and Meghan-daddy had attended in their youth. That's where they had met, and fallen in love, and (in mum's words) lost the will to live. Apparently, though, when I turned dad into Meghan, they both found their will to live again.
"No matter, Petie dear," said my mum as she pulled up her stockings and painted her lips and ungodly shade of red. "Your father and I are going to talk to Headmaster Dippet right now. We'll be back in a few hours – don't wait up, love!" She kissed me on the forehead, tied dad's corset, and dissaparated without another word.
They'd left me all alone in the house, without any sort of human companionship or even a lollypop. I was heartbroken. I was lonely. I was hungry.
So, I slipped into a pair of my mum's panties, fished some candy from the pantry, and danced around the house with my cat Schnookums, singing my self-made theme song
I am PETER PETTIGREW
And everybody loves me!
I am PETER PETTIGREW
La da da, la da di!
Then, I fell asleep, spread-eagle on the couch, while Schnookums clawed at my limbs. That was, by far, the best day of my childhood.
When I woke up, Mum was back. He lipstick was smudged, and she and Meghan-daddy were completely naked, but that was not an uncommon occurrence in the Pettigrew house, so I overlooked it. She handed me a ripped, messy piece of parchment, which I eagerly unfolded. It was a letter!
The letter was handwritten, and sloppily at that, but it said:
Dear Mr. Peter Polonius Pettigrew:
You're lucky you have such loving parents. Hogwarts' term begins September 1st. Your supplies will be waiting for you. Tell your mothers that Dippie says hi, and that they are welcome any time they'd care to stop by.
Sincerely,
Armando T. Dippet.
Headmaster and Love Slave, Hogwarts.
I was a bit put off by the wording of the letter, but all that mattered was that I was going to Hogwarts! My heart sang! My stomach leaped! My intestines gamboled! I had never felt such so wonderful, so uplifted as I did then!
Then mum told me to take off her panties and stop being a pansy-boy.
Coming soon: Part Two: I am a Human Cheese-Vacuum.
(In which Peter goes to Hogwarts, meets the other Marauders, and finally eats some cheese)
P.S. Thankies, Frog Fad, for the delicious idear! You are Frog-faddiling good!