Disclaimer: this is so archaic but I do them out of habit.
Thirteen, Harry decided, was a terrible age. He didn't like his voice changing octave at the strangest of times and he didn't like the clumsiness that came with increased height but most of all he hated the thoughts that would come to him at the strangest times. He also hated the sense of difference that he felt from his family. He wasn't stupid, not a genius but not stupid, and he could notice difference between himself and his family. He was tall while his father and sister were shortish, he needed glasses, and his face was different from his father. He remembered being told when he was very young that he was sired by his father and his mother was a different woman. Maybe that was why his two year old brother wore the heirs ring and not him.
He hated certain things about his home and by extension his country. Oh yes, Remordere was separate from the English Ministry and counted as their own country but nobody seemed to feel the need to state it. He hated the social rules the governed his every public action as a young man of breeding. He hated the stuffiness that was Spellwicks academy with nothing but the same people having a million variations of the same conversation and the endless lessons about how what they were learning made them better than everyone else. He missed Hogwarts with its lesson and changing staircases and teachers with extra evil heads that made his scar hurt.
He sometimes even hated them. No, hated was too strong a word. He was sick of the being friends with the same three girls and only the same three girls. He noticed that this was normal with families and that may have contributed to the inbreeding. He would talk to some of the Hillspare children but they similarly introverted. He sometimes hated how Portia was his age but never thought things through. He hated how she would plan wild, world wind, adventures that never came to fruition. He sometimes hated Persephone who sometimes spoke of terrible things to herself and did more than she safely could. He was grateful that she was home trained, it was getting harder and harder to be around her. He hated how Galatea made him feel. She was older, prettier, nicer to look at. She was really nice looking. He wished that her skirt didn't touch the ground, he missed her legs. Why? He didn't know. It brought him back to the wands and sleeves discussion he had with his father all those years ago.
His father. He loved his father more than Quiddich and planning adventures. He loved how he was saved from the muggles he barely remembered and he loved having a family. He sometimes hated them but at the end of the day he loved them. He hated what his father had explained to him though. He had let slip his thoughts on Galatea to his father and was told point blank that he was a good marriage candidate to him. He knew that cousins often married but he couldn't see himself married to Galatea. She was nice to look at but incredibly bossy. She was secretive as of late but about what he didn't know.
Thirteen, Peter Pettigrew decided, was possibly the worst age that anyone could possibly be. It was the start of that horrible time in life when you weren't a boy anymore but not a man either. He hated it then and he hates how Harry is going through it now. He shuddered at how he was going to have to deal with this when Beedle Bard in eleven years. He hoped that the child Addie was carrying was a girl, then it wouldn't be his problem.
He had more problems than a man his age had any business having. He wasn't a big player on Remordere and he liked it that way. Dumbledore had come far too close for his liking. If he hid on Remordere than nobody, not even Sirius could find him. He wondered why they hadn't caught Sirius yet, he was never subtle. He wished that he had been a stronger man in his youth, that he was a smarter man, that he hadn't decided to play secret agent man.
He knew, through the amazing ability of hindsight that he developed when his youthful exuberance was cruelly destroyed, that most of his ideas were very bad. Looking back he wished that he had paid more attention to class and not depended on Paulette to teach him. She was a great witch but a terrible teacher. He could charm and disillusion but not create a potion or perform several shields. He could curse with the best of them, all Pettigrew children could, considering the way they lived, but he knew only one shield. He wished that he paid more attention in divination. If he had he would have been able to tell that he would need to deflect more than his sibling's curses.
He wished that he had a better relationship with his siblings. They were all mean, rotten, spoiled little things. They fought with fists and magic but were good to their small groups of friends. He was grateful for Paulette who at least taught him that he needed to make a good first impression on everybody, not just people he needed. That was how he made friends with Sirius, James, and Remus. Only Sirius, James, and Remus. It was sad, he could count the number of friends he had on one hand and still have a thumb to spare. Paulette didn't count because she was in charge of him.
He didn't want this new generation to go down that path as well. He knew however that he could stop their adventures but there was not much he could do against tradition. At least they were good to their cousins on Addie's side. He regretted telling Harry that Galatea would be a good marriage prospect but they often married their cousins, up until the last half century they often married their siblings but that caused even more problems. That was the only reason he was grateful that Sirius Black sired Galatea.
Sirius Black had settled with a Wizarding family, the Weasleys, shortly after escaping. He had tracked Peter's scent to their home. It was stale but there, apparently he had been living as a rat there and escaped seven years before he even escaped. He was grateful for his magically enhanced sense of smell. He didn't know where to go from there, Peter could have been in India or Africa for all he knew! He resigned himself to his fate until his escape boiled over and they found their newest story. It didn't though. He had even been implicated in the disappearance of Harry Potter! He knew that Peter was behind it. After he found Peter he was going to pay those muggles that let him be stolen a visit. All he could do now was wait and allow himself to be scratched behind the ears.