The Man who Lived.
Peter couldn't be sure when it started. The web of the Dark Lord was spreading all over wizarding society. He couldn't be sure when he had stopped fighting, stopped believing that he could fight, him, You-Know-Who. The most powerful wizard ever.
Well, maybe Dumbledore was more powerful. But Dumbledore couldn't protect him. He couldn't protect. Peter knew that. Dumbledore was powerful. But he hesitated to use his power.
Peter knew he was weak.
Knew his talents were limited.
He spent all his years in Hogwarts under the shadows of James and Sirius. How they teased him for his slower mind. How they mocked him when he didn't grasp a situation as sharply as they did.
It was all in good fun, Peter knew that. And it was unintentional. James Potter would never hurt his friends.
But, sometimes, what you don't know can hurt you, James.
In spite of all this, Peter knew what he was doing was absolutely wrong. He was a Gryffindor!
He was supposed to be brave, noble, and chivalrous.
But all he wanted to do was survive.
How very…Slytherin.
No, no, he wasn't a snake. He didn't want to get James and Lily and Harry killed.
It was…he was taking care of himself. You had to do that. With He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named rising to power, one had to protect oneself.
His first meeting with the Dark Lord didn't go anything like he expected.
He expected a monster. What he got was a kind, compassionate man, who the wizarding world hated and reviled for false views of him.
It is for the greater good. Surely we all make sacrifices, Peter?
You-Know-Who was not evil. Just misunderstood.
In the months that followed, Peter learned just how evil the Dark Lord was.
But escape was impossible. Peter had willing joined the lair of the serpent. Was now wrapped and woven into a web of lies.
Inwardly, he hated himself. Hated his cowardice, his talentlessness.
But outwardly, he, Peter Pettigrew, was good for something at last.
He manipulated his friends. Slowly, slowly, he turned Remus and Sirius against each other. Both fiercely loyal, and both knowing of the others backgrounds. Werewolf. Son of one of the Darkest families in Britain.
Of course, no one realised that he was controlling them. How could they. In their arrogance, they never believed that he could be a spy, working for the other side. He was, after all, weak. Talentless.
But spy he did. Sirius, the oblivious fool, suggested that he, Peter, would be the secret keeper.
He was successful in the Dark Lord's plan. But Peter couldn't shake the feeling that if his life had taken a different path, one where he remained loyal to his closest friends. His brothers.
He would have guarded this secret, the life of the Potters, with his own.
But that was not the life. Peter was trapped. He had nowhere to go. He was a traitor. He had to serve the Dark Lord until death.
Once a Death Eater, always a Death Eater.
Peter remembered one of Lily Potter's phrases.
Hindsight is 20/20.
Yes, Peter could see that. Now, as he sat on the floor, head between his knees, he didn't cry. Peter was too far gone for grief. The Dark Lord's last hurdle to domination would be gone in a few moments.
The Dark Lord would rule the world.
And Peter would survive.
What kind of a life would that be? Would it be any better than death? He would be looked down upon. Scum. The worthier followers of the Dark Lord would sneer at him with disdain. He had served his purpose. He would have no further use.
And the survivors, the resistance. Peter knew the other side would come after him.
Black, especially.
But, but, he still hadn't joined the enemy completely. Not while James still lived. Not while Lily still lived. And not while Harry survived.
Peter knew he could never be whole in life, and as he twisted into nothingness, appearing outside the gates leading into Potter Manor. Voldemort was gliding, silently over the autumn leaves.
But now, the cowardice that haunted him in life, vanished as he went to face his death.
He was brave. He would face up to the whitest dark wizard that ever lived. Without his wand, with his life about to end, he would be a hero.
The wand landed on the ground as Peter's tiny paws bounded across the yard. He didn't need it. The Dark Lord was oblivious to the Rat at his feet.
Peter transformed into a human right in front of the Dark Lord, who was a little shocked, to say the least.
"Don't kill them, Voldemort. Please, kill me, instead." Inwardly shaking in terror, Peter outwardly was the vision of calm defiance. James would be proud.
Well, not proud of everything, but proud of what he was doing now.
"Lily, take Harry and go! It's him! Go! Run! I'll hold him off!" James Potter was aware of the white skinned intruder, and he was coming to face him.
"Out of the way, Pettigrew." Voldemort wanted Peter to suffer. Death would be an escape.
"Please, no. Kill me!"
Potter was coming closer. Voldemort couldn't risk Pettigrew and Potter holding him off long enough for the mudblood and her spawn to escape. If Peter wanted to die, the merciful Lord Voldemort would oblige.
"Go, Peter."
Peter stood his ground.
"Avada Kedavra." Peter fell to the ground, lifeless and crumpled. Voldemort opened the front door with a wave of his hand. There stood James Potter, wandless.
Voldemort laughed as he cast the curse.
"Avada Kedavra!"
Voldemort vanished. James was blasted backwards, bleeding from a gash on his forehead. And Harry Potter's little body was host to Voldemort's soul.
The Dark Lord had marked him as his equal.