A/N: Hi kiddies! Well, I don't know where this came from, I think mostly
it's pity on my part for Pete's character. Enjoy!
I never wanted to hurt Lily and James. That must be hard to believe, laughable even, considering the way I betrayed them. But it's the truth! Sure, I was jealous of James, so was every other boy in our year. The way he flew, you'd think he was a shooting star, and even though he was always getting into trouble most of the teachers adored him. Plus, he had Lily. There wasn't a straight guy in the school who hadn't ogled her at least once.
But James and Lily were my friends. I can see that now, even though I couldn't then. Every time I look at this silver hand, or hear the Dark Lord's sickening voice calling me, I realise just how badly I managed to bungle things. Honestly, I don't know how I got sorted into Gryffindor. There isn't an ounce of courage in me! I think most of it started later on in the school years. When James and Sirius grew to be tall, handsome, and athletic, and even poor Remus earned himself quite a few admirers. But me? Who wanted to go out with fat, short, sneaky Wormtail? Even my animagus form was depressing. I was so sure it would be something cool, something rewarding. I never held out much hope for a lion or tiger, but, maybe a cat? Or some kind of a monkey? Yeah, a monkey would have been cool. But a rat?!? A RAT?!?! That was when things took a turn for the worst. When I started sulking, brooding, started resenting James' popularity and skill.
Still, I wouldn't have hurt him then, not really. We graduated and he married Lily, and everyone was so happy. Sirius got to Best Man. Not much of a shock I guess, it was either him or Remus, and Remus always did get to be nauseous at social events. Still, sometimes I wonder, if Voldemort had been after him instead of James and Lily I don't know if I would have still turned traitor. Probably, but there's a little chance not, since Remus actually treated me like an equal. Sirius was probably the most overbearing, but I think he was born that way.
I do know why I started working for Voldemort. You have to understand what it was like back then, for wizards like me, little more than squibs really. I wasn't strong like the Potters, or particularly amazing. In those days there hadn't been a ray of hope. No young baby who snuffed out the Dark Lord's powers, proving he wasn't infallible. It just seemed inevitable that the world would fall to his grasp. I'll say it again, I don't know why I was sorted into Gryffindor. Or maybe I just changed so much since I was eleven that the Peter who was ceased to be long ago. Either way, by the time You-Know-Who had taken control, I wasn't what anyone would call courageous. I wanted to live, and more than that, wanted to make a name for myself. Part of me believed that maybe once the Dark Lord got what he wanted, the killing would stop. Now I know that it will never stop, because he is mad. Powerful, but mad beyond comparison. Still, it seemed. The only thing left. So like the coward I am I joined in his ranks, became one of his followers. I never thought Lily and James would make me their Secret Keeper! Sirius always filled roles like that, or if he wasn't around, it was Remus. I never thought I would ever have the opportunity to betray my friends. I believed that eventually, they would all see reason and do what I had done. I was just lying to myself. Telling myself things to hide the guilt, to pretend that what I'd done wasn't the shameful, horrible thing it really was.
Of course, the time came, that Lily and James made me their Keeper at Sirius' request. Years ago, perhaps this act would have been enough. But that was before I joined You-Know-Who. Still, it wasn't all that bad, since no one but myself, James, Lily, and Sirius knew that I'd been given Sirius' job. The Dark Lord wasn't going to drill me for information. So, now you're wondering, if I didn't want to hurt my former friends why did I betray them then?
Have you ever felt the cruciatus curse? Your whole body is literally riddled with pain. Every nerve ending goes off like a siren, and while no damage is done, the sensation is so excruciating you'd wish for death. It's a very effective way to crush one's courage. To turn even the bravest souls into snivelling, horrible cowards, who curl upon the ground and scream for death as you bombard them with pain. So you can imagine what it did to a weak fool like me. I began to believe that there was nothing the Dark Lord couldn't see, no act I could commit he wouldn't know of, no secret he couldn't find. He took such sadistic pleasure in torturing his follows over the smallest infractions. Of course, it was nothing compared to what he did with his enemies. But after spending several minutes a week in complete agony, for reasons like 'you were late' and 'the tea is too cold', I was all but ready to anything to make him happy. To end the suffering.
I said he was mad? Well, that was nothing to what I became. I was desperate for something, anything, a piece of acceptance or a shred of real power. So I offered up Lily and James to him on a plate. Surely, they would escape? Those two, they'd done everything, they were powerful and respected wizards. Not as powerful as the Dark Lord, definitely, but they'd find a way! Especially with their child. Lily and James always found a way.
But they didn't. They died, and my reward never came, since for whatever reason their baby boy defeated You-Know-Who. I was stretched to my limits. I was alive, but powerless, two of my greatest friends dead because of my damnable weakness, and all for nothing. Then Sirius figured it out. He was never the brightest bulb in the box, but then, I wasn't either. It didn't take a genius to realise I was the only who could have (pardon the pun) ratted them out.
Again, whatever courage had gotten me into Gryffindor failed me, that day my former friend confronted me. He was a mess. Grief-stricken, devastated, a broken man. Like me. Only unlike me, he hadn't lost his sense of dignity, still had things he stood for. Things he was willing to die for. All I had left was my cowardice. I didn't want to die by his wand, or go to Azkaban. Even though it was what I deserved. Still, to this day, the thought of Azkaban. Yes, I would send him back there again in my stead. I'm not so deluded that I don't know my own evils. Fear. In order to be brave, you must first have something you're afraid of, something to stand against. I've always had the fear. But, like so many things, the bravery died with youth. With eyes that had seen too many stronger wizards fall to gruesome deaths. That day, all I knew was fear. It was my fear that framed Sirius. My fear that ruled my life ever after.
Perhaps the true irony of it is that the best trick I ever performed was when I faked my own death. Fooled even Black, I did, and he was the closest to me when it happened. Sirius went to Azkaban. And I, I hid away like the rat I am, and have always been.
It was fear that sent me back to the Dark Lord after I managed to escape those I had betrayed, thanks to some of Snape's ill thought-out actions. Count on him to ruin things for Black. I know what you're thinking. Return to the monster who tortured you? The man who sent fear through all around him? Why, Peter, it doesn't make any sense!
Well, I'll tell you why. The same thing that's responsible for this whole mess made me do it. Fear. I couldn't hide anymore; Sirius would find me some day, and when he did, I would either die or go to Azkaban. The same fate I had spent years living in a cage with the Weasley family to avoid. But at least if I returned to him, helped him, I had a chance. Redemption was impossible by now. No, I was doomed to be on the side of 'evil', and my battered mind could only think that if it was to be, perhaps I could still have some of what I'd wanted. Power or glory. Perhaps the Dark Lord would accept me.
I wish I'd never gone back to the bastard.
Once I had, however, there was no turning back. He wasn't as strong as he had been, but he was more powerful than me, and that was enough to keep me trapped. Oh, how I regretted helping him. How I wished he would just die! That James Potter had been strong enough to kill him on his doorstep. Many nights, I lay, and I wondered if Azkaban might actually be preferable to this. At least then I would feel I had paid some price.
Again, fear stayed those thoughts. So, I helped this man, no, this creature I so loathed, that he might regain his power. I deepened my betrayal by helping him restore himself with young Potter's blood. I didn't want it to be Harry. Enough had happened to Lily and James, and the boy had, after all, spared my life. He was a better man than I. But, the Dark Lord could not be swayed, and I dared not press upon the issue.
You must see how greatly I feared him, to cut off my own hand rather than displease him. The most painful, revolting thing I have ever done to myself, aside from becoming his servant in the first place. I restored him, and after making sure I suffered in pain, waving in and out f nausea as he gave his little speech to the Death Eaters who returned, he repaid my sacrifice. By giving me a fake hand.
Does no one else see how much that reward bites?
A fake hand. I had a real hand, thank you, the least he could have done was give me a super-strong hand or something. Not that chilling iron extension that sent revulsion through my spine. Still, I didn't dare show it, didn't dare display my disappointment. Harry Potter got away. And I, I still follow in You-Know-Who's shadow, a twisted lump of hate and fear who was once a man. Or maybe I can't even go so far as that. But at the very least, I was once a boy, a boy who long ago had friends he wouldn't dare betray. So much changed. So many regrets. All there is left now is my fear, the Gryffindor courage has failed me, abandoned me to Slytherin guile long ago.
So, take this advice, from a man who's not worth a second glance. A man who you should never turn your back to, and never get involved with. Friendship is a rare, radiant trust. Never betray it, because believe me, it's not worth it if you live to regret it.
~Wormtail
I never wanted to hurt Lily and James. That must be hard to believe, laughable even, considering the way I betrayed them. But it's the truth! Sure, I was jealous of James, so was every other boy in our year. The way he flew, you'd think he was a shooting star, and even though he was always getting into trouble most of the teachers adored him. Plus, he had Lily. There wasn't a straight guy in the school who hadn't ogled her at least once.
But James and Lily were my friends. I can see that now, even though I couldn't then. Every time I look at this silver hand, or hear the Dark Lord's sickening voice calling me, I realise just how badly I managed to bungle things. Honestly, I don't know how I got sorted into Gryffindor. There isn't an ounce of courage in me! I think most of it started later on in the school years. When James and Sirius grew to be tall, handsome, and athletic, and even poor Remus earned himself quite a few admirers. But me? Who wanted to go out with fat, short, sneaky Wormtail? Even my animagus form was depressing. I was so sure it would be something cool, something rewarding. I never held out much hope for a lion or tiger, but, maybe a cat? Or some kind of a monkey? Yeah, a monkey would have been cool. But a rat?!? A RAT?!?! That was when things took a turn for the worst. When I started sulking, brooding, started resenting James' popularity and skill.
Still, I wouldn't have hurt him then, not really. We graduated and he married Lily, and everyone was so happy. Sirius got to Best Man. Not much of a shock I guess, it was either him or Remus, and Remus always did get to be nauseous at social events. Still, sometimes I wonder, if Voldemort had been after him instead of James and Lily I don't know if I would have still turned traitor. Probably, but there's a little chance not, since Remus actually treated me like an equal. Sirius was probably the most overbearing, but I think he was born that way.
I do know why I started working for Voldemort. You have to understand what it was like back then, for wizards like me, little more than squibs really. I wasn't strong like the Potters, or particularly amazing. In those days there hadn't been a ray of hope. No young baby who snuffed out the Dark Lord's powers, proving he wasn't infallible. It just seemed inevitable that the world would fall to his grasp. I'll say it again, I don't know why I was sorted into Gryffindor. Or maybe I just changed so much since I was eleven that the Peter who was ceased to be long ago. Either way, by the time You-Know-Who had taken control, I wasn't what anyone would call courageous. I wanted to live, and more than that, wanted to make a name for myself. Part of me believed that maybe once the Dark Lord got what he wanted, the killing would stop. Now I know that it will never stop, because he is mad. Powerful, but mad beyond comparison. Still, it seemed. The only thing left. So like the coward I am I joined in his ranks, became one of his followers. I never thought Lily and James would make me their Secret Keeper! Sirius always filled roles like that, or if he wasn't around, it was Remus. I never thought I would ever have the opportunity to betray my friends. I believed that eventually, they would all see reason and do what I had done. I was just lying to myself. Telling myself things to hide the guilt, to pretend that what I'd done wasn't the shameful, horrible thing it really was.
Of course, the time came, that Lily and James made me their Keeper at Sirius' request. Years ago, perhaps this act would have been enough. But that was before I joined You-Know-Who. Still, it wasn't all that bad, since no one but myself, James, Lily, and Sirius knew that I'd been given Sirius' job. The Dark Lord wasn't going to drill me for information. So, now you're wondering, if I didn't want to hurt my former friends why did I betray them then?
Have you ever felt the cruciatus curse? Your whole body is literally riddled with pain. Every nerve ending goes off like a siren, and while no damage is done, the sensation is so excruciating you'd wish for death. It's a very effective way to crush one's courage. To turn even the bravest souls into snivelling, horrible cowards, who curl upon the ground and scream for death as you bombard them with pain. So you can imagine what it did to a weak fool like me. I began to believe that there was nothing the Dark Lord couldn't see, no act I could commit he wouldn't know of, no secret he couldn't find. He took such sadistic pleasure in torturing his follows over the smallest infractions. Of course, it was nothing compared to what he did with his enemies. But after spending several minutes a week in complete agony, for reasons like 'you were late' and 'the tea is too cold', I was all but ready to anything to make him happy. To end the suffering.
I said he was mad? Well, that was nothing to what I became. I was desperate for something, anything, a piece of acceptance or a shred of real power. So I offered up Lily and James to him on a plate. Surely, they would escape? Those two, they'd done everything, they were powerful and respected wizards. Not as powerful as the Dark Lord, definitely, but they'd find a way! Especially with their child. Lily and James always found a way.
But they didn't. They died, and my reward never came, since for whatever reason their baby boy defeated You-Know-Who. I was stretched to my limits. I was alive, but powerless, two of my greatest friends dead because of my damnable weakness, and all for nothing. Then Sirius figured it out. He was never the brightest bulb in the box, but then, I wasn't either. It didn't take a genius to realise I was the only who could have (pardon the pun) ratted them out.
Again, whatever courage had gotten me into Gryffindor failed me, that day my former friend confronted me. He was a mess. Grief-stricken, devastated, a broken man. Like me. Only unlike me, he hadn't lost his sense of dignity, still had things he stood for. Things he was willing to die for. All I had left was my cowardice. I didn't want to die by his wand, or go to Azkaban. Even though it was what I deserved. Still, to this day, the thought of Azkaban. Yes, I would send him back there again in my stead. I'm not so deluded that I don't know my own evils. Fear. In order to be brave, you must first have something you're afraid of, something to stand against. I've always had the fear. But, like so many things, the bravery died with youth. With eyes that had seen too many stronger wizards fall to gruesome deaths. That day, all I knew was fear. It was my fear that framed Sirius. My fear that ruled my life ever after.
Perhaps the true irony of it is that the best trick I ever performed was when I faked my own death. Fooled even Black, I did, and he was the closest to me when it happened. Sirius went to Azkaban. And I, I hid away like the rat I am, and have always been.
It was fear that sent me back to the Dark Lord after I managed to escape those I had betrayed, thanks to some of Snape's ill thought-out actions. Count on him to ruin things for Black. I know what you're thinking. Return to the monster who tortured you? The man who sent fear through all around him? Why, Peter, it doesn't make any sense!
Well, I'll tell you why. The same thing that's responsible for this whole mess made me do it. Fear. I couldn't hide anymore; Sirius would find me some day, and when he did, I would either die or go to Azkaban. The same fate I had spent years living in a cage with the Weasley family to avoid. But at least if I returned to him, helped him, I had a chance. Redemption was impossible by now. No, I was doomed to be on the side of 'evil', and my battered mind could only think that if it was to be, perhaps I could still have some of what I'd wanted. Power or glory. Perhaps the Dark Lord would accept me.
I wish I'd never gone back to the bastard.
Once I had, however, there was no turning back. He wasn't as strong as he had been, but he was more powerful than me, and that was enough to keep me trapped. Oh, how I regretted helping him. How I wished he would just die! That James Potter had been strong enough to kill him on his doorstep. Many nights, I lay, and I wondered if Azkaban might actually be preferable to this. At least then I would feel I had paid some price.
Again, fear stayed those thoughts. So, I helped this man, no, this creature I so loathed, that he might regain his power. I deepened my betrayal by helping him restore himself with young Potter's blood. I didn't want it to be Harry. Enough had happened to Lily and James, and the boy had, after all, spared my life. He was a better man than I. But, the Dark Lord could not be swayed, and I dared not press upon the issue.
You must see how greatly I feared him, to cut off my own hand rather than displease him. The most painful, revolting thing I have ever done to myself, aside from becoming his servant in the first place. I restored him, and after making sure I suffered in pain, waving in and out f nausea as he gave his little speech to the Death Eaters who returned, he repaid my sacrifice. By giving me a fake hand.
Does no one else see how much that reward bites?
A fake hand. I had a real hand, thank you, the least he could have done was give me a super-strong hand or something. Not that chilling iron extension that sent revulsion through my spine. Still, I didn't dare show it, didn't dare display my disappointment. Harry Potter got away. And I, I still follow in You-Know-Who's shadow, a twisted lump of hate and fear who was once a man. Or maybe I can't even go so far as that. But at the very least, I was once a boy, a boy who long ago had friends he wouldn't dare betray. So much changed. So many regrets. All there is left now is my fear, the Gryffindor courage has failed me, abandoned me to Slytherin guile long ago.
So, take this advice, from a man who's not worth a second glance. A man who you should never turn your back to, and never get involved with. Friendship is a rare, radiant trust. Never betray it, because believe me, it's not worth it if you live to regret it.
~Wormtail