Peter Pettigrew stared in the mirror of his dorm, the evening after the first day of school at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He stared at the rafters of his single dorm (no one needed the single so he offered to take it). His Northern-Hawk-Owl, Zyro stared at Peter out of his left eye, its right eye closed, as it almost always was.

Peter sighed, staring at his reflection. This pale, watery body that he was sorry to say was his revolted him. His watery blue eyes, his eternally runny nose, all this he loathed. But, it was part of his plan that he stay this way, at least when he was around others. Slowly, he screwed up his eyes, and slowly his eyes returned to their natural state (or just how he was born; for a Metamorphagus, all human forms then are natural), a color of brown so dark that you had to squint and look at them to figure out where his irises ended and his pupils began. They were nearly and almost entirely black. Slowly, he grew taller, his watery frame taking a definite form, a solidified shape. Finally, when he was done, he stared at himself.

Any female onlooker observing this transformation would have to admit that now Peter was not so bad looking. Smooth, shiny blue-black hair the color of a beetle's shell was spiked up in every which way. If Veruca Ann was watching she probably would have said the following-

"Ooh, that boy is (like) so cute! He has (like) the cutest smile!" She probably would have commented on his well-muscled figure, too, but let's not go into details, I just wanted to give you a basic overview of his appearance.

Now, let's get some history on our favorite Petty (no, not that one)!

Peter's father was a wizard. He did not alert his mother of that when they married, insisting complete normalcy, and indeed it took a badly scheduled Floo fireplace meeting (Peter's dad was meeting with an old friend when Peter's mother was supposed to be at the library) to convince her otherwise. Though she was in fact very annoyed that he had lied to her, she still loved him, and two years later Peter was born. Peter's mother was Asian, and it was reflected in young Peter, and for this he got beaten around a whole lot at their more racist area of England. His parents lived in a perfectly normal muggle village. He discovered his Metamorphagus power when one day he screwed up his eyes and pictured himself as "normal" when the bully came to call. He had shielded this from his parents, because he thought that he was some mutant. (He knew that he was a wizard because his parents had told them, but he didn't know about Metamorphagi.)

Though now he knew a bit more, assuming that it was normal, he still thought for some reason that he should keep it a secret. Actually, it wasn't just for any reason. He had the Sight, Peter did, and he knew exactly what lay in the future. His future. Hisfuture.

Peter recalled the memory flashes, the Sights he could See, which sounded more like a Voice than a Sight.

You shall be great. You shall stand tall, though it shall look as if you stand small. For long shall you toil, performing noble deeds in the dark of the night, but none shall know. You shall be scolded of your cowardice by the very person whose life you save. It is your fate to be ignored, loathed, even despised, though you do more than they. It is your fate, to; just before you will be given the credit due, a man with your face shall kill those you love. One of your best friends will suffer years of countless torture because of this man that they think is you. Another friend will die at what they believe is your hand. Though many will think you dead, a hero, it is a false thought, with no glory or niceness meant. "You" shall get an award, but it is naught but the extension of a stiff hand. The son of your brother shall turn from false pity to hate and disgust for you. He shall try to kill you, to want you dead. Your friends will seek to murder the man with your face, who in a way will become you. You will hide, and you will live. This will all occur by a choice that you must make in the land of your dreams. You have a choice between what is here and something else. Your other path will lead to your eternal happiness. The whole world will serve you on bended hand and knee. Make a choice, o Peter to be ignored… In the land of dreams shall you make your choice.

Peter was jolted from his darkened reverie by a knock on his door. Instantly, his true form receded, and the pale watery form he had used as his own returned. Shaking his head groggily, as if he had woken up from a dream, he said mournfully, "Come in."