The boy had nothing on his mind in particular, only a vague hope that the feast would really be as good as his older brother had promised him, and that only made it more obvious that there was nothing much too him. Not particularly intelligent, hard-working, or daring; and with no ambition of any kind that would carry him past the little concerns of his school years, Peter Pettigrew had always coasted through life.
It was the Hat's duty to stop that. It sorted the students based on the traits they possessed, the traits they valued, and the traits that they could develop with a little nudge in the right direction. The last was what Pettigrew truly needed, but it was always difficult and time consuming to sort out what might be when there was nothing currently present to anchor it.
Hufflepuff was the easy choice– that was where the boy's much admired older brother had been sorted three years previously and no student left Hufflepuff without the ability to work hard at whatever task faced them. Helga might have been willing to take the students that none of the others wanted to bother with, but she had been a stern taskmistress who had never settled for anything less than her student's full capabilities.
The effort required would make the boy grow and he might manage best academically in the House that put more importance on the work required to complete an assignment than on the grade the assignment earned. Failure was never tolerated, but most students could scrape at least an Acceptable in all of their courses if they were willing to study and practice enough. Pettigrew certainly could.
"Does it matter much to you, which House you're placed in?" the Hat asked. It already knew that Pettigrew couldn't care less which House he was sorted into, the result of parents who had worked very hard during his childhood to make sure that he knew that all of the Houses were equally good.
"It would be nice to be in Hufflepuff with Andrew." There was an undercurrent in the boy's mind that suggested it would be equally nice to be in one of the other Houses without Andrew Pettigrew– so that Peter could have some trait to boast of that his brother did not. The Hat might have considered it enough ambition for Slytherin, if the thought had been voiced– or if it had remained unvoiced because the boy was concerned enough with what the Hat thought of it to deliberately lie– but Pettigrew had voiced a desire to be in his brother's house because he truly preferred it over going his own way.
And not because he had any great attachment to his brother. Oh, he loved him as much as most brothers did and he had been lonely with Andrew at Hogwarts because Peter had never really managed to make friends on his own, but when it came to a choice of what House to be in Pettigrew the younger was primarily thinking of the many benefits that came of having someone else blaze the trail for him.
There would be no need to make friends of his own, he could simply tag along with Andrew's gang. He would not have the usual first-year difficulties with traversing the castle with his older brother to show him around and the recent decline in his grades was sure to turn around if Andrew only helped him study a little and used his experience of the teachers to let Peter know what bits were really important and what bits could be safely ignored.
The worst part was the Andrew Pettigrew– at least the Andrew Pettigrew of three years ago– was a kindly soul (if not an especially bright one) who might very well spend the next four years doing everything his little brother ought to do for himself out of the misguided notion that he was genuinely helping.
If it had been a proper plan, the Sorting Hat would have considered it evidence of a cunning streak and simply put the boy in Slytherin, but it was not really a plan so much as the knowledge that being without Andrew would be harder than being with him, coupled with a rather strong aversion to anything remotely difficult.
That, in and of itself, was enough to make the Hat dislike the idea of putting this Pettigrew in Hufflepuff.
It was supposed to help students grow, not enable their dependency. Oh, Pettigrew would be perfectly content coasting through life, but it meant that his character would remain permanently undeveloped– a far worse fate than remaining academically underdeveloped, as Peter might do if not given a strong push to study by his peers.
That push could not come from Ravenclaw. Pettigrew did not have the intellect or creativity necessary to survive in Ravenclaw, even if he could have benefited from the studiousness the House encouraged.
"You aren't going to put me in Hufflepuff, are you? You would have already shouted if you were."
"I am probably not going to put you in Hufflepuff," the Hat told him.
"I don't know why you won't. I'm not clever or brave or cunning." The first two were true, but the mention of the third stirred up quite a bit of counter-evidence. Nothing big, or the Hat would have noticed it already, but a number of little things.
Claiming that his mother had told him that he could have sweets when she had not, blaming the broken vase on the family dog rather than admitting to practicing with a quaffle in the house– although Andrew Pettigrew had gone along with it, he had not been the one who thought of it– sneaking a handful of marbles out of a muggle shop by putting them down his socks. No more than a handful of incidents a year, not enough to bear consideration for a student with more defined characteristics than Pettigrew.
He didn't have the skills to pull most of his attempts off, even the marbles had had to have been returned when he had been unable to come up with a convincing lie as to where he had gotten them from, but Slytherin would nurture those skills, would turn Peter Pettigrew into an accomplished liar simply because he had no other skills with which to survive the somewhat cutthroat social environment that Slytherin produced.
All the same, the Hat would prefer not to put the boy there. He didn't have the ability to differentiate between genuine friends and people who merely wanted to use him and so– unless he was able to get close to one or more of his fellow students rather quickly– he would end up as an easy target that no one wanted to be friends with.
Unadulterated cunning was also a dangerous trait. It tended to result in people who were incapable of accomplishing anything of value, yet were very good and making those around them miserable.
"There is more to sorting than being brave, or clever, or cunning, or none of these things."
The Sorting Hat waited, but Pettigrew did not bring up any characteristics that he had (or thought he had) that might be relevant to his sorting. Nor did he ask for further clarification as to what this 'more' was and why it had never been mentioned to him before, further confirmation that he didn't belong in Ravenclaw.
Hufflepuff might be best after all. The boy would probably coast through his first four years, but things might change when he reached fifth year and his brother was no longer at Hogwarts with him. Besides N.E.W.T.s and career decisions would have to be made from the perspective of what Peter Pettigrew was personally capable of, not what his older brother had done.
But that was a risky business when both of the Pettigrew brothers seemed to be generalists– decent at everything, but not particularly good at anything. If Pettigrew the younger was determined to coast, then Hufflepuff would not be able to prevent it.
"And it is not true that you aren't brave or clever or cunning."
"Really?" The boy made a squeaking sound that sent the hall tittering. It was only for a few seconds and at least as much of a reaction to how long this particular sorting was taking than actual mockery, but the Sorting Hat was aware of how deeply embarrassed Pettigrew was by drawing attention of this sort.
He hated being made fun of, Peter did. He even hated other people being made fun of, and while he had never quite been brave enough to stand up for anyone being bullied, he had made his displeasure known in other ways. More cunning ways.
The memory was quite clear, although Pettigrew seemed to have shoved it to the bottom of his mind, either because he was afraid the Sorting Hat would notice it or because he wanted to forget it himself, but the laughter from around the Hall brought it to the top of the boy's mind and easy reach of the Hat.
Pettigrew had gone to muggle primary school. He had been one of the slower students, and his parents had never bothered to learn much about the muggle world before sending their child through the school door so he had generally been considered a little strange as well as a teller of tall tales. He had not managed to make any friends and had been the main target for teasing his first couple of years at school.
Then a girl had moved in. A very clever girl who produced more than the usual quantity of saliva and seemed incapable of swallowing it. Pettigrew had not been happy with his reprieve when the class ignored him in favor of teasing her– both for drooling and for her difficulty pronouncing most words– but he had not been brave enough to stand up for her.
Instead he had brought several balls of mud to school, secreted in his pockets, with the intent of lobbing them at anyone who dared make fun during recess. This had ended, as any other student of the school would no doubt have predicted, with Pettigrew covered in mud and in serious trouble for picking fights. It was almost gallant, and at this point almost was enough for the Sorting Hat.
"Yes," the Sorting Hat said. "You certainly have some cunning, but your chivalry places you in GRYFFINDOR."