Author's Notes

We're gonna play a game called guess-the-POV! See how quickly you can figure out who's POV this was written in. Fastest person gets a cookie!

(This is the kind of stuff I write when I listen to way too much Coldplay.)

Disclaimer: All the characters are owned by the lovely J. K. Rowling.

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There was something about him.

There was something there, but he couldn't place it, and it was driving him mad.

He watched him. He watched, and learned, and yet he saw nothing. He was just another boy, just another seventh year, anxiously awaiting his graduation, and yet clinging to the few remaining days of his youth. He wanted to leave so badly, to go ahead and take his NEWTs and get out of there… and at the same time he never wanted to grow up. He wanted to stay right where he was, right now, sitting under a tree by the lake without a care in the world.

But he and his friends were one of the strongest forces he had encountered. Perhaps it was because the kid already had such influence, at only seventeen. Perhaps it was his astounding magical talent… his brilliance. If he was to join, he would be nearly unstoppable, but if not…

He needed to get closer to the kid. He needed to know exactly what made him tick.

And he knew exactly where to look.

There were three of them. Three boys, all the same age, who were closest to him. So he watched them each in turn.

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The first boy would never do, despite his background.

He was the closest out of all of them, and the two were practically twins. They knew exactly what the other was thinking during any situation, which was exactly what he needed. If there was something unique about the boy, then this one – his best friend – would know it.

He was impressed by their loyalty to each other. Such loyalty, he thought, paired with such talent, would be a huge asset in his cause.

But this one was too strong of heart. Breaking him would be near impossible and take far too long. He didn't even bother trying.

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The second boy took a little longer to decipher. He was the quiet one, the studious and forever calm part of their group that kept them in check. He shrouded himself in mystery and stubbornly refused to let anything slip from behind that straight-faced mask. It was frustrating.

But he still got to know the boy, however slowly. He haunted his dreams, manipulated them, and discovered his greatest fear: loss of control. Losing control and hurting his friends.

It was understandable once he discovered just what the kid was hiding. He wouldn't work. The loyalty he had for his friends was far too strong… that was the problem with these damned Gryffindors.

Besides, his kind were the ones he aimed to kill, not recruit. He let the idea die and moved on.

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It was in the third that he finally found weakness.

He was just as loyal as his three friends, but he was far more insecure then the others. He was a bright boy, really, even if his grades didn't show it. He was quick thinking, and a fabulous liar… an admired – perhaps even necessary – trait.

But he was so overshadowed by the other three that he went virtually unnoticed. It would be so simple to use him as his key to their lives. All three of the others would grow to be powerful… but divided, he sensed, they would fall quickly.

He would be the weak link in the chain. Just a little pressure, and he could break the whole thing.

-----

Peter Pettigrew let out a sharp gasp as yet another curse was lifted from his shaking body. Tears streamed silently down his paled cheeks, and he slowly uncurled from his little ball on the floor. The pain was unimaginable.

"I don't want to," he whispered hoarsely, as soon as he was able to speak. "I'm not going to!"

"Don't be a fool, boy, I think you've had enough already," a hissing voice responded.

Peter didn't argue. He had had enough.

"Now that we've gotten that out of the way, let me ask you… what is stopping you? Why won't you do as I ask?" the voice demanded, but in a gentler tone.

"They're my friends," Peter muttered, sitting up as the pain slowly subsided. "They've always been there. I can't."

"Always been there? They've always been above you, boy. They were never with you, you've just been following them for the last seven years. Can you remember even one time when they took you seriously?"

"They always helped me… all of them… they never -- "

"Never let you think for yourself. They helped you only because you were stupider than they were. You were hindering them, that's all."

Peter gritted his teeth angrily, shutting his eyes. "That's not true," he hissed.

"You were just as capable as any of them and yet they thwarted you. They kept you down so they could stay up top. They made you feel small and insignificant and utterly useless."

"That's not true!" Peter shouted it this time, rising to his feet.

"Crucio."

The torture did not cease for what felt like hours, but was only a few minutes. The spell was ended, mercifully, and Peter was once again curled up on the floor, shaking uncontrollably.

The figure at the other end of the dark room stood up and walked towards the sobbing teenager slowly. "You are here because you are not useless, Pettigrew. You are here because I can see the potential in you and I can put it to use."

The man's pale face and bright red eyes had a message in them that was not kindness… but it might have been something close to it. "I'm going to make you the winner for once. You can be smarter and stronger and more important than all of the others. That's all you've ever wanted, after all, isn't it?" he finished.

Peter stared up at him for a few moments, then choked back another sob, standing up again slowly.

"I'll do it."