A/N: Hey y'all! This was written for Hogwarts. Writing Club prompts are listed below. :)
Charms Task 5: Write about someone feeling small.
Word Count: 1771
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. Those rights go to JK Rowling.
Thank you Kim for beta'ing!
Enjoy!
Peter Pettigrew watched in resignation as his books tumbled to the floor. The older Slytherins laughed cruelly, and the Gryffindor first-year struggled to hide the tears in his eyes. This harassment had been going on since the beginning of the school year, nearly three months ago.
Since then, he'd had to order three new school bags, and he wasn't looking forward to the lecture his mother was sure to give him when he told her he'd split yet another one. Peter was now terrified of leaving his bed in the morning. He felt so alone at school, and was beginning to believe his bullies when they said that he was a laughable excuse for a wizard. His confidence had been shot so badly that he was failing all his classes.
Still, there was an inkling of hope inside him—he'd been Sorted into Gryffindor, the House of the brave. Maybe there was a reason. Peter glanced down at the red and gold tie hanging from his neck. He didn't feel very courageous, but he thought that maybe bravery was a choice—maybe it wasn't necessarily a trait.
He looked up at his tormentors and tried to gather every scrap of courage he could find.
"Y-you can't do that," he said as loudly as he dared. "Th-the teachers will—"
One of the Slytherins—Malfoy, Peter thought his name was—sneered coldly at him, all amusement gone. "Watch yourself, little Gryffindor," he began coldly. "If you tell a soul about any of this, then it will be more than school books spilling from you."
This was getting serious. He really knew that he should tell an authoritative figure, but the Slytherins' threats seemed much too real to be trifled with.
Peter paled, nodding frantically. So much for bravery. After his bullies walked away, Peter bent down and began gathering up his textbooks. The new parchment he had bought for the school year was crinkled badly, and one of his inkwells had broken. Since the Slytherins had broken his bag, he could only gather what he could into his arms and try to balance it all as he walked to his next class.
He felt as though it were impossible to be anything more than the small boy with the broken bag that he was. As he looked around at the groups of friends laughing and complaining about classes, he felt incredibly lonely. Two of the boys in the dorm had banded together on the first day of school, and recently they had adopted the third boy into their ranks. Peter was a bit jealous, but he didn't hold it against them; he was one of those people who blended in with the crowd. In fact, at the moment, no one could distinguish him from the next student—he didn't have a memorable face or personality, and it showed in the number of people who liked to hang around with him.
His little body trembled as he approached the Potions classroom. The regular Potions Master, Horace Slughorn, was taking a break that year—Peter hoped that he would be nicer than the man who was filling in. Calhoun Yaxley—the uncle of Corban Yaxley, one of Peter's harassers and four years above the young boy—was known for being a particularly unpleasant man. He seemed to have a strong hatred for Peter, probably because the poor boy had spilled the contents of his cauldron in class in the first week of school. Whatever the case, though, Peter was terrified of going to class.
He hated that so many people could make him feel this way; like he was worthless. Teachers, classmates, it didn't matter—Peter always felt like something one scraped off the bottom of their shoe. He didn't want to be afraid of going to class. He wanted to walk into a room with the same confidence that his dorm mates had. No matter how hard he tried, though, he couldn't still his trembling hands or slow his quick breathing. His heart pounded as he stared at the door to the dungeons, wondering if he could get away with skipping the lesson altogether; he certainly felt sick enough to go to the Hospital Wing.
When he realized that if he skipped this lesson he'd be tempted to skip all Potions classes in the future, Peter pushed aside his terror and opened the door. He walked in slowly, taking his seat at the back of the class. His partner, a Ravenclaw (there were an odd number of Gryffindors in the class), didn't much like him. So Peter sat, ignored, during most of the class, desperately wishing he were somewhere else.
Professor Yaxley passed by Peter's table with a sneer. "Pettigrew, you idiot boy, the directions clearly said to turn counter-clockwise. And which way did you stir?"
Peter stared miserably at his potion, which was lumpy instead of the glassy smoothness it was supposed to have. "Clockwise, sir," he whispered.
With a wave of his wand, Yaxley vanished the contents of Peter's cauldron, causing his Ravenclaw partner to snigger. Peter wilted as the professor bit out, "Start again, and actually read this time."
Slowly, Peter got up to get new ingredients. When he arrived back at his table, he sat down and stared at the empty cauldron. A wave of anguish overtook him. He shouldn't be there; he was practically a Squib—what business did he have learning magic? Head bent, Peter began working again, his brain whirling with every insult that had ever been thrown at him in a self-depreciating hurricane.
When Professor Yaxley walked by a few minutes later, Peter held his breath, ready for the criticism that was to come; to his surprise, however, the teacher wasn't addressing him when he spoke.
"You should know not to mess with me," Yaxley growled, his cold black eyes flashing. "Potter, Black, Lupin, I'm splitting you up. Lupin, with Pettigrew. Black, with Oswald. And Potter, you join up with Matthews."
Sirius Black and James Potter—two of the boys Peter roomed with—went to switch partners. The Ravenclaw beside Peter stood up to move, and Remus Lupin, the last boy in Peter's dorm, took their place.
Remus offered him a small smile, looking a bit shy. His amber eyes looked just as nervous as Peter's own blue ones. "Hi."
Peter tried a smile of his own. "Hi." After a moment's hesitation, he asked, "Why were you moved?"
Remus flushed slightly, looking both pleased and embarrassed. "James and Sirius tried to set off a dungbomb. I got caught in the crossfire."
Peter couldn't help but laugh, and when the two began to work, instead of doing the assignment independently, like Peter had thought they would, Remus happily helped Peter out.
At one point during the lesson, Remus whispered, "Sorry you got stuck with me. I'm pants at Potions—this is as far as I know how to go."
Peter looked at the ingredients that the two of them had so meticulously cut up, and felt a wave of determination wash over him. Remus had already done so much for him; he wanted to prove his worth to the boy, even if he had to fake it. As he reached for the first ingredient, however, a thought stopped him. He'd probably only make things worse. He was terrible at school in general, not just Potions, and he'd never accomplished anything in his life. If Remus, whom Peter knew to be a quiet genius, couldn't figure out the steps, then how could someone as mundane as himself ever hope to do differently?
Peter glanced at the boy beside him once more. There were three thin scars across the young boy's jaw, and Peter watched as a student from a table nearby pointed at him and whispered to their friend. He was mildly surprised when Remus saw this and hunched his shoulders.
Maybe he wasn't the only one who preferred to stick to the shadows.
Perhaps the two of them didn't need to stand above the others—maybe they just needed someone to give them a hand up when they were forced to their knees.
Peter began working on their potions. He followed the book step by step, and watched as awe took over Remus' face when their potion, for the first time ever, ended up exactly as it was supposed to. Pride overtook the boy, and his cheeks flushed with pleasure. Remus was grinning at him, obviously rejoicing in having a potion that looked as it should.
"I bet that Yaxley will still fail us," Remus murmured suddenly.
Peter grinned. "I'll take that bet."
They didn't put money on it, of course, but they decided that the winner would get help with any assignment of their choosing—and Remus warned that he would choose Potions every time.
Remus laughed, and Peter felt almost normal. Was this what it was like to be around friends? He didn't know, but it was nice to have someone pay attention to him for once—attention that didn't end with his books on the floor.
A strange look took over Remus' face as he regarded Peter. "Do you… want to hang out with me, James, and Sirius sometime, Peter?"
Peter blinked in surprise. Did he? Why was Remus offering—was it only out of pity? As he looked at the other boy, however, he only saw an honest curiosity, and maybe even a little bit of hope. Still a bit wary, Peter said, "You don't have to do that. I don't want to be included just because you feel sorry for me."
Remus looked surprised, then understanding dawned in his eyes. "That's not why I'm doing this, Peter. I like you, and I have a feeling James and Sirius will too. I think you'll have fun with us."
Peter wanted that so badly. Still, he couldn't help but ask, "How do you know?"
Peter could see that Remus had been in the same boat; he knew what it was like to question his self-worth. But here he was, saying that James and Sirius had changed that for him, and that he thought they could change it for Peter as well.
Remus smiled reassuringly. "Just trust me."
Warmth blooming throughout his body, and Peter beamed He couldn't help but obey—the hope inside him, just an ember for so long, was finally blossoming into a full-out blaze. "Yeah, I… I guess I will."
Remus grinned, looking delighted. "There's no going back now, I hope you know," he teased. "We won't let go of you now that you're one of us."
Peter found that he really didn't mind. One of us.
He could get used to that.
A/N: Writing Club Prompts:
Character Appreciation: Hermione: (Item) book
Disney Challenge: Kaa — use the dialogue "Just trust me."
Dark Lady's Diabolical Lair — Parchment
Book Club: Wade: (word) harassment, (word) serious, (plot point) threatening someone.
Showtime: The Point of No Return — (dialogue) "No going back now."
Lyric Alley: I do not deserve
Ami's Audio Admirations: The Boiler Room — write about something seemingly normal being terrifying
Angel's Arcade: Espio the Chameleon — (plot point) blending into the crowd, (word) independent, (dialogue) "You should know not to mess with me."
Lo's Lowdown: Toph — write about someone being underestimated.
Bex's Basement: George's Marvellous Medicine — write about an adult bullying a child
Film Festival: (plot point) someone making a bet