Peter Pettigrew
Peter Pettigrew.
A boy whose sorting had once seemed so simple. The Hat had sensed his eagerness to belong, his yearning for friendship and acceptance.
Gryffindor, it had decided. Peter’s loyalty to his friends had been clear, and the Hat believed that courage would follow where loyalty led.
But courage had not been Peter’s strength. Fear had been stronger. The Hat had seen it later, how fear had twisted Peter’s loyalty into betrayal. He had chosen survival over honor, cowardice over courage, and the consequences of that choice had rippled through the wizarding world.
The Hat didn’t dwell on blame—it wasn’t its place to judge.
But it couldn’t help wondering if another house might have guided Peter differently.
Hufflepuff, perhaps, where loyalty was tempered with steadfastness.
Or Slytherin, where ambition could have given him the confidence to stand on his own.
But no, Peter had been a Gryffindor, and he had made his choices.
The Hat could only hope that, in the end, he had found a shred of the bravery it had once seen in him.