Peter POV - Part 2
Peter ran as fast as he could. Faster than he had ever run before. He rounded the corner and transformed into Wormtail. Merlin how he had always hated that name. Why didn’t he get a cool nickname like James did? Prongs. Padfoot. Even Moony was better. Wormtail just sounded disgusting. Why was Peter the lame animagus? Why couldn’t he have been the dog? Why didn’t he get to be the one big enough to wrestle with the werewolf? Why was his only job to press the stupid knot on the tree? Why was he always the one that got chased when the wolf was upset with the dog? It wasn’t fair.
And even now it didn’t seem fair as Wormtail scurried into an alley, not thinking to check his surroundings before he did. Before he could even register the pounding footsteps behind him, there were hands wrapped around him, squeezing tightly.
“You fucking arsehole!” Sirius shouted. Wormtail struggled to breathe, screaming for air as he struggled in Sirius’ grasp. “How could you?” he yelled. His grip loosened slightly and Peter took the chance and transformed back, desperately gasping for the air that Sirius didn’t let him have. Before he could catch his breath, Sirius slammed him back against the wall.
“There you are,” he spat.
“Are you going to kill me too, Sirius?” Peter choked, feeling helpless against Sirius yet not wanting to show it.
“You sold James and Lily to Voldemort! You should be grateful if I kill you!” Sirius shouted, tightening his grip on Peter’s throat. Peter’s eyes searched his surroundings, desperately looking for a way out. Maybe the Dark Lord would come to help him? No, there was no sight of him. There was a growing crowd of muggles though, gasping and pointing at them. “You’re insane, Sirius. You sold James and Lily out, not me!” Peter muttered, his mind racing. He could pin this on Sirius! Sirius was James’ best friend. Dumbledore thought Sirius was still secret keeper! He could get out of this! Maybe Peter wasn’t the dumb one after all.
Sirius let him go and punched Peter right in the face. Peter winced but took the opportunity to pull his wand from his pocket. Sirius must’ve been two steps ahead, however, as he too had drawn his wand and had it pointing right at Peter’s face.
“Don’t bother, Pettigrew,” Sirius spat at him, a malicious grin spreading across his face. “You and I both know you could never beat me. Ever.”
“Is that right?” Peter sneered. He did know he could never beat Sirius. Not even if he put all of his effort into it. Sirius had always been better. At everything. He was stronger, smarter, and quicker. But what he wasn’t expecting was what Peter did.
With one last grin at Sirius, he pointed his wand at the floor near where the muggles stood and blew it up. Sirius’ eyes widened and he whipped around in panic, but it was too late for the dirty muggles. All of them had been blown into the sky. A shop window had also smashed and Peter rushed towards it, giving Sirius the flip. He picked up a piece of glass and bit down on his lip to stifle the shriek of pain as he brought the glass to his hand. With trembling fingers, he cut his index finger off his right hand. Then without another glance at Sirius, he transformed into Wormtail and disappeared into the sewers where he changed back into his human form.
The only thing distracting him from the stench was the throbbing pain in his hand and the deranged laughter that came from above. Sirius Black really was insane. Peter would have laughed if his hand wasn’t hurting so much. He tore a patch of his cloak off and wrapped his hand in it, which proved to be more difficult than he expected.
Assumed dead.
He repeated the words in his head like a chant, a promise. He had done it. He had pulled it off. The world believed Peter Pettigrew was dead.
He could start a new life as Wormtail, hidden plain in sight. No one would suspect a rat. They wouldn’t be able to prove it anyway. Nobody knew about his animagus. No one apart from James (dead), Sirius (locked up) and Remus (probably drowning himself in alcohol).
Maybe he could get adopted by a nice family. A stupid family that didn’t realise their rat wasn’t getting any older. Maybe he would get a better name than Wormtail. Something respectable, perhaps.
The thought of a cosy, safe life momentarily eased the tightness in his chest. Peter imagined living out his days as a pet, watching the world from behind the safety of his cage, untouchable, invisible. He wouldn’t have to worry about the war, or Voldemort, or the horrible consequences of his betrayal. He’d vanish into the cracks, like the rat he was.
Peter hissed through clenched teeth as he tightened the makeshift bandage, the rough fabric digging into the wound. Blood soaked through almost immediately, but he couldn’t afford to stop now. He had to take care of his hand, had to stop the bleeding before it attracted attention. Before someone realized he was still alive.
He could deal with the rest later—the lies, the guilt, the haunting image of James’ trusting face, the echo of Lily’s scream as she died. For now, all that mattered was surviving.
Surviving, and disappearing, never to be found again.