A/N- Well, Another chapter is here. I like to think that maybe friendship
will rule the day. This is my reasoning to Dumbledore's 'One day you may be
very glad that you saved Pettigrew's life.'
Harry choked a bit, and tried to contain the rage, the terrible happiness, and the debilitating grief he felt as he opened the next letter. Unlike the other two, it was not delayed delivery. It was sent sometime in the last week, and the parchment it carried allowed for hopes and dreams, grief and despair. Ron and Hermione looked at each other worriedly, and attempted to comfort their friend until he could go on. The envelope gave no clue as to the author, on it was Harry J. Potter written in block letters. Nothing else.
Dear Harry,
You turn seventeen today. It's hard for me to believe that the infant I held in my arms, the little boy that I watched cry in his aunts garden, the best friend of my adopted family, is now an adult. You will have many trials to go through in these next few years. More then I would wish on anybody. I did what I thought I had to, to gain power and respect. Did you know that your mother and father were the only two who gave that to me? It didn't matter that I was different. It didn't matter to them at all. Which is why betraying them was so difficult.
All those years ago, when I held you, I was already on my path to what I perceived as greatness. Now I know better, but it is too late to stop. I would have you know that I will forever hear their dying screams in my sleep. I, too, am scarred from that night, though mine do not make me famous. Mine merely make me ashamed.
I am quite frankly surprised that you have even read this far into the letter. I expect that you will probably throw it on the fire, and call Sirius to help you track me down, so that you can prove his innocence once and for all. You will not be able to find me. I am heavily guarded now, since the Dark Lord does not want his most efficient lackey killed by those that he once called friends. It won't do any good.
I am sending along an interesting sheet of parchment. You will discover that it is a full confession, signed, dated and witnessed. It was written with Severus Snape's help, three days after the fall of your parents. It should free Sirius. As well, I have enclosed a very old spell, found by my Lord September last. It was of no use to him since it can only be performed by the pure of heart, and even then only to be used on someone who has gone far before their time. It can only be used three times. Use it well.
I will be dead by the time you have received this letter. You were right to stop Moony and Padfoot from killing me, Harry. James wouldn't have wanted to know that his best friends, his LOYAL friends, had turned into murders. But I can not turn myself in to face the Dementors, and my due, so I will kill myself and be done with it, a coward in the end. Believe it or not, I do love you in my strange and twisted way. You are the next generation of the Marauders, but you had so much more to worry about then pranks.
Sincerely, for I doubt you'd appreciate love,
Peter Pettigrew,
AKA Wormtail
Once again, Harry had silvery trials running down his face. He could bring his parents back. Sirius would be free. And everything would be how it should have been thirteen years before, except that the fourth member of the quartet known as the Marauders would be dead, alone and in misery for his final hours. Some would say that was how it should be. The next letter in the pile included.
Harry choked a bit, and tried to contain the rage, the terrible happiness, and the debilitating grief he felt as he opened the next letter. Unlike the other two, it was not delayed delivery. It was sent sometime in the last week, and the parchment it carried allowed for hopes and dreams, grief and despair. Ron and Hermione looked at each other worriedly, and attempted to comfort their friend until he could go on. The envelope gave no clue as to the author, on it was Harry J. Potter written in block letters. Nothing else.
Dear Harry,
You turn seventeen today. It's hard for me to believe that the infant I held in my arms, the little boy that I watched cry in his aunts garden, the best friend of my adopted family, is now an adult. You will have many trials to go through in these next few years. More then I would wish on anybody. I did what I thought I had to, to gain power and respect. Did you know that your mother and father were the only two who gave that to me? It didn't matter that I was different. It didn't matter to them at all. Which is why betraying them was so difficult.
All those years ago, when I held you, I was already on my path to what I perceived as greatness. Now I know better, but it is too late to stop. I would have you know that I will forever hear their dying screams in my sleep. I, too, am scarred from that night, though mine do not make me famous. Mine merely make me ashamed.
I am quite frankly surprised that you have even read this far into the letter. I expect that you will probably throw it on the fire, and call Sirius to help you track me down, so that you can prove his innocence once and for all. You will not be able to find me. I am heavily guarded now, since the Dark Lord does not want his most efficient lackey killed by those that he once called friends. It won't do any good.
I am sending along an interesting sheet of parchment. You will discover that it is a full confession, signed, dated and witnessed. It was written with Severus Snape's help, three days after the fall of your parents. It should free Sirius. As well, I have enclosed a very old spell, found by my Lord September last. It was of no use to him since it can only be performed by the pure of heart, and even then only to be used on someone who has gone far before their time. It can only be used three times. Use it well.
I will be dead by the time you have received this letter. You were right to stop Moony and Padfoot from killing me, Harry. James wouldn't have wanted to know that his best friends, his LOYAL friends, had turned into murders. But I can not turn myself in to face the Dementors, and my due, so I will kill myself and be done with it, a coward in the end. Believe it or not, I do love you in my strange and twisted way. You are the next generation of the Marauders, but you had so much more to worry about then pranks.
Sincerely, for I doubt you'd appreciate love,
Peter Pettigrew,
AKA Wormtail
Once again, Harry had silvery trials running down his face. He could bring his parents back. Sirius would be free. And everything would be how it should have been thirteen years before, except that the fourth member of the quartet known as the Marauders would be dead, alone and in misery for his final hours. Some would say that was how it should be. The next letter in the pile included.