Secret to Death
"Let this secret stay within yourself, within your magic, within your intellect, Peter Isaac Pettigrew, and let this secret stay with you to death, past the crumbling of your gravestone and your grace. Let this secret stay with you to death."
And Peter watched as Dumbledore looked upon him solemnly, eyes a sober blue color, and wand held up to the sky in proclamation.
And Peter watched as the magic gathered in front of the house circled with ash, and Peter's own blood, then was jabbed into him, only his. He felt pride grow in him; this was his, and only his. The pride ebbed into a great sensation of power, one that stemmed at his tattooed forearm and into his very soul. He was the keeper, the only one who could ever have this specific power.
Then came an ecstatic glee, as he was ushered into the dwelling he was proclaimed too, and met by cheers and sorrowful looks. Sirius looked more worried than anybody had ever seen him, pulling at the threads at the hem of his leather jacket, eyes drawn and face weary. Remus was missing, at the second-book shop he had managed to get a job in. The crows of Lilly and Harry upstairs crowned the event and something dropped in his stomach. He didn't want this responsibility! The people in front of him were to be killed, by his own word. This secret would not follow him to his grave! He wanted to shout at them, the foolish idiots. What are you doing? This isn't my job! Give it to him!
"Wormtail…Wormtail….PETER! why are you pointing at Sirius?" The rat looked up into hazel eyes, and saw them glazed and dead. And for some reason, though he meant, he longed to tell them, to show them the mask that hid bellow his socks in his nightstand, he simply smiled and gave a wheezy laugh "Erm…you don't look do good Padfoot, are you okay?"
And a few hours later, after he walked away from his responsibilities and poured his heart into a crucio-crowned lord, and after he flopped onto his empty room in his mother's house, when he looked into the mirror he felt free. He had no responsibilities, no master but the snake burned to his arm. He was on the winning field.