Outtake: Peter
Peter's POV
I knew there was something wrong as soon as walked through the door. My mum's house was too quiet, but even then my thought for the worst case scenario was that my mum was dead. I didn't get a chance to think about anything before I was disarmed and lying on the floor. Shaking with fear, I looked up to see the Dark Lord standing in front of me.
"Where are the Potters?" He asked quietly, staring at me in a way that promised pain if I didn't answer.
"I-I d-don't know!" I pleaded, desperate to get away. There were no doubts in my mind that he was going to kill me, and that he'd probably already killed my mum. "S-Sirius is the Secret Keeper!"
"Crucio," I screamed as my body was set on fire and pulled apart. It was like unlike anything I'd ever felt before. I felt seconds away from losing my mind; I begged and cried for it to stop, anything to make it stop.
"Don't lie to me again, rat," the Dark Lord hissed. "Where are the Potters?"
"Please," I begged, loyalty to my adoptive family warring with the promise of torture. "I don't know!"
This time the curse was held on for longer, until my screams had turned to soundless cries and I was willing to do anything to make it stop. Traitorous thoughts began to appear in my mind; how they would expect me to betray them, I had never been as strong as them. Would they really expect me to hold up under this torture? Could anyone really endure?
"Don't hurt them," I pleaded, my endurance pushed past its limits. The thought of my friends being hurt was nearly as bad as the torture. I hated the venomous thoughts of betraying them; I'd rather die. However, I knew death wasn't an option; Voldemort would keep me alive until I gave him what he wanted. "Swear you won't kill them."
My mind was clearer and my fear was turning to acceptance. I wasn't strong enough to endure forever, sooner or later I would break and confess everything; I would endanger the only family I had left. If I was going to be a traitor, then I was going to assure that my friends would live; even if they lived to hate me.
"I'll tell you," I promised, sorrow causing tears to fall from my eyes. "But you have to promise not to kill them. Swear it." The Dark Lord must have seen something in my eyes that showed my resolution.
"I won't spill any magical blood that doesn't get in my way," he told me.
It was the most I was going to get. With a final thought to my friends, my family, I whispered out the secret I'd been trusted with. The Killing Curse was a welcome sight; I didn't want to live in a world where I betrayed the once I loved. No one would care about the death of a traitor.