When Peter Pettigrew joined the death eaters, he thought of it as his grand act.
He was seventeen, and Mulciber left a note inside his robes, a note which burnt itself to cinder as soon as he read it. He knew it was Mulciber because, well, Peter had sort of seen him do it: Snape, Barty and him had trapped the marauders in a lonely corridor between classes, and, with everyone else too busy fighting each other until the professors came to separate them, Peter simply chose to stand there, useless, and hadn't resisted the young death eater when Mulciber shoved him to the ground.
"What is wrong with you?!" James had yelled at him afterwards. "Bloody hell, Pete, we are at war, or we will be very soon, and we won't always be there to defend you."
"James, don't talk to him like that," Lily immediately told him off.
It didn't matter, the damage was already done.
And so, Peter chose not to get rid of the note, he read it, and even considered attending the meeting.
James is right, he realised, there is a war, and they aren't going to be by my side unconditionally. There is a war, and the muggle fairytales dad told us were wrong: the good guys do not always win; there is a war, and they all think of me as too weak to protect myself.
On his way to the meeting, at noon, Peter pictured Dumbledore's reaction, certainly, but his friends' most of all, when he shared with them the information he'd acquired spying his way into their ranks.
They all would respect him then. Finally, James, Sirius and Remus would see Peter and immediately think of him as someone worth keeping around.
That day, however, the day of his first meeting, turned out to be a big disappointment. It made sense, of course, it made perfect sense that the youngest death eaters, still at Hogwarts and thus, tasked on recruiting new (and half-pure at the very least) blood, abstained themselves from giving too many details away: the initiates did not belong in their group yet, they were not sworn to secrecy and could do as they pleased before they were reached outside of school and killed.
Now, do not think wrong of the death eaters, not in this sense: they may be evil, yes, but since when is evil a synonym of stupid? There are, for sure, closed-minded people whose evil ideas come from ignorance and stupidity, but this is not the only possible scenario, not by far. These death eaters in particular did have an unbreakable vow scheduled, only that for the second meeting, which Peter attended under the premise of it being his last one.
One more, then I'll go to the headmaster, and demand protection for me and my family in exchange for listing their names, and giving up my memories. He told himself in a loop that day. One more day and I'll become a war hero.
When they were informed of this condition, Peter was close to morphing into a rat and running away. Wormtail would have helped him, he knew that, if only momentarily. He listened to the first person to make a vow though, and understood it did not have to be his downfall, that it merely meant the decision had been taken for him, and this would be the work of months, if not years.
"I, Peter Pettigrew, swear on my life and on my magic I won't reveal the secrets trusted to me before the Dark Lord marks me as one of his own."
Really, it was a very convenient thing to swear, because Peter, whose muggle father was a linguistics professor in Manchester University, and had instructed him and his older sister to understand the fascinating world of languages from a young age, knew there were two ways of taking that last sentence (one where he was never able to reveal the secrets of this time, and a second one where he was unable to do so only until he got the mark), and the magic would make no distinction between the two.
Regulus Black came to their third meeting. He turned up this one time and did not ever return: he explained he had no interest in teaching them the ropes, that the Dark Lord knew he was worth more. Peter wondered if that was the reason he hadn’t seen Snape in any of the meetings, if he was already one of them, or if his friends simply considered their humble presence by his side provided him with everything he needed to know. Anyway, it all made sense when Sirius’ brother lifted his sleeve.
For god’s sake, he was younger than them all! Not that Peter particularly fancied becoming a Death Eater, of course, he was bothered merely on principle.
Contrary to what his father may have thought when he was a child, Peter did care about some people: his family, for starters, the marauders, of course, and Lily Evans, surprisingly (not in the creepy way Snivellus seemed to care about her, Peter simply appreciated how she would always stand up for him, and defend him even from his own best friends, how she was kind to him without anyone asking her to, no matter what). Lily's friends, however… Meh.
And Regulus, curiously, was a very similar case, a case of "meh." If Regulus Black died tomorrow, Peter would not shed a tear, he would go on with his day and never feel anything deeper than a profound disinterest; yet, because of who he was to Sirius, Peter did care, of course he did! Not about the brat, no, but about how the brat's tragic fate would affect his damn brother.
Above anyone else, of course, Peter cared about himself. Not about how wealthy he would become, or how successful a career he'd have, and not even about his sentimental life, since Peter had not really felt the need to get involved with anyone else before, not romantically, and not sexually either. He would obsess for hours at a time about what others thought of him, and abouts his safety, he cared about not being scared—because yes, Peter could indeed feel fear, he was drowning in it, and had been all his life.
One thing he'd struggled with during that seventh year was, at first, spending time with Sirius and being unable to warn him about his brother. This was until, one day, Sirius burst through their bedroom door, broke into tears, and confessed he'd bumped into Regulus, and the boy had proudly showed him the mark on his arm.
Peter was not even sure why he had let himself be affected by it at all, since Sirius and Peter were part of the same friend group, but their relationship wasn't all that great when alone. He had cared, though, and, when it all passed, he thought of writing to his father and telling him he was finally developing feelings. "Right now, for example, I'm incredibly relieved," he'd say in the letter.
This is how, where others saw a trap, Peter found an opportunity.
It took him less than a year to be marked, but only after graduation would he be welcomed into the Order, which, in all honesty, said it all.
Peter's mother and father would often argue about muggle things. Psychology, for example: Annabel Pettigrew, a pureblood from head to toe, did not believe in such a thing. Magical mind healers were a different case, but muggles ?! She thought of this science as a bunch of guess work, similar to muggle Astrology or muggle tarot readings.
The problem was that, despite recognising the value of mind healers, Mrs Pettigrew, if anything else, was proud. She would not admit to having a son gone wrong, not even to professionals. What would people think of the Ancient house of Pettigrew otherwise?
To this, Peter's father once replied:
"The same shit they've been thinking since our wedding day."
"That's different," his mother explained on that occasion. "They are wrong in their beliefs, and I'm right, so I refuse to bother with them."
Now, Peter may not have minded beating that squirrel in the garden tree to death after it tried to attack his sister, but this, he did. His parents must have been wrong (or so he assumed), because it hurt like hell.
Despite the episode with the squirrel, Peter was not cruel, not for the sake of it: he did not condone pointless violence, and so he told the muggle doctor when his mother finally caved in, and allowed his father to book an appointment (one, and only one).
"I only did it because it jumped on Vera and almost bit her in the neck. In the end, it couldn't because it got tangled in her hair."
"Ah," the bald man put his glasses on, and sighed out of relief. "So you saved her? That's understandable, it must have been very scary."
"No, my dad did," Peter corrected him, "I came back the next day to teach it a lesson."
"How do you even know it was the same squirrel?"
"It wasn't the same squirrel." Eight-year-old Peter was getting very exasperated at this man. "We have a family of squirrels on the tree. The one which attacked my sister was female, so I grabbed the male one, its partner."
"Why?"
"I told you so already! To make them learn their lesson!"
"And because you love your sister, and would do anything to keep her and your mum and dad from being harmed, or to avenge them were this to happen," the doctor guessed
"Well, duh."
"Anything at all?" he insisted.
"Why are you acting dumb Mr Doctor? Of course! Wouldn't anyone?"
"Er…"
This had shocked Peter profoundly.
"Why not?!"
"People, most people that is, don't like to cause harm to others. It's a bad thing, even in times when we may think they deserve it, our conscience tells us not to," the doctor explained.
It was at that moment that he realised he was feeling shame. Shame! A new feeling! And he didn't like it at all.
"I wouldn't cause harm for fun," he felt the need to clarify. "I mean, what's the point? It's better to be, err, nice, I think, I like that better. But if it saved my family, or my friends were I to have them, and obviously if it saved my own life… Or if someone or something, like the squirrel, harmed me and my loved ones, then they deserve what they get."
The man hummed, and focused on his notes for a bit.
"And if you had to choose between your family and yourself? Would you prefer them to be in pain?"
"That's not fair!" Peter complained. "I would try and stop the pain another way!"
"That's right, now imagine you had no choice." He smiled at Peter, although, quite frankly, Peter thought this was superficial at best. "Remember this is a safe space, young Pete, there is no judgment here."
Peter swallowed.
"I would always put myself first, and honestly, Doc, I'm not sure why that's bad," he admitted. "What do ‘right’ and ‘wrong’ mean anyway?"
In some contexts, Peter had been told that this sentence could be inspiring and rebellious. Like when an eleven-year-old Sirius flushed his parents' letter after getting sorted into Gryffindor down the toilet, looked at them, with tears in his eyes, and said the same thing.
In this one, however, the muggle mind healer defined it for his dad as "terrifying." Peter Pettigrew Senior, who took his wife's last name for the sake of nobility perpetuation (mind you, his mother did not call it that, but Peter's father argued that's what it was, and Peter agreed), was quick to ask the mind doctor the question.
"Is he a psychopath?"
"Mr Pettigrew, I'm sorry, but It's illegal to diagnose anyone under 18."
Mr Pettigrew passed fifty pounds under the table, and the doctor saw red.
"YOU THINK YOU CAN BRIDE ME?!"
He grabbed another fifty pound bill.
"This is unacceptable!"
One last bill seemed to do the trick.
"I don't think so." The doctor sighed, and looked fearful at his father's expression. "I'm not saying it because it is what you want to hear, Mr Pettigrew. Peter can feel restrictive emotions, and he has trouble differentiating right from wrong, but he loves you and your family, and he is very young. He shows psychopathic traits, but with therapy, he can certainly improve. His brain is still developing, and quite honestly, this should be good news: we caught it early, we will work on it."
Yes, well, Mrs Pettigrew did not like the plan so much, let's leave it at that.
The initiation ritual before taking the mark involved the killing curse, and that's all Peter is ever going to say on the matter. It was pointless to dwell on it, since he did not regret it: killing a hundred innocents was worth it if it meant saving millions, don't you think? It made perfect sense, in his mind: fresh out of Hogwarts, this Peter still thought of joining the Death Eaters as his grand act, except that, contrary to what the Sorting Hat may have guessed, it was not only about himself.
It's all about you, Peter Pettigrew. You put yourself first no matter what, and that can be a good thing at times, Merlin knows there are people out there who could use a bit of that same philosophy. You may be one of the easiest students to sort I've ever encountered: self-preservation, ambition and, in your case, cruelty, make you a worthy member of the house of Salazar. And yet, there is something… There is bravery in you—and yes, Peter, you are brave, especially because you are frightened all the time. There is something in what you would dare to do to protect those you love that contradict every dogma Mr Slytherin ever promoted.
That was how he ended up in the "something," with three new roommates, one of whom he already knew quite well (James Potter, his childhood friend, son of Fleamont Potter, Annabelle Pettigrew's school friend). They were the same boys he had sat on the train with, the same people he took as his protectors, and befriended solely for his own needs, until he learnt how to love them by the end of his first year.
It had only taken him a bloody school year, and, for some time after the realisation, Peter assumed himself cured.
Lily and James' wedding was the last occasion in a while he thought of himself as a spy for the Order. Not only because the Death Eaters began taking the upper hand in the conflict straight after it, and Order members (including casualties like Lily's muggle parents, and old members like James' parents, whose tragic passings made his mum quit the fight and go into hiding with his dad) were dying out like fleas; but also because, to put it simply: did it count as spying if the person you were doing it for was entirely unaware of the situation, and never given any crucial information?
Of course, Peter used to tell himself he would soon reveal the truth and quit, even if it had not happened yet, and, up until that point, he had yet to share any information that put an important Order member in danger, all under the premise of being low enough in the ranking to not even be allowed to attend a meeting (which was bullshit, every Order member had a right to attend them).
Still, despite the inconsistencies, it worked: he hadn't met The Dark Lord once since the day he took the mark, and most Death Eaters would never be granted the honour a second time. Peter was glad, honestly, because he'd felt so afraid when kneeling in front of the man (yes, he often reminded himself The Dark Lord was just a man), that he was close to peeing his pants.
In any case, Lucius Malfoy, his superior, constantly assured him The Dark Lord would be informed when he held a position important enough not to waste his precious time. Peter naturally wondered how likely it was that they both ended up being killed for hiding such a thing from him , but the week after describing to Malfoy the entirety of an Order meeting for the first time (conveniently skipping Sirius' secrets reunions in a café with his brother, who he was trying to convince to get out, and Remus infiltrating some of the werewolf packs working for them), Dumbledore announced his suspicions about the existence of a spy, and it became obvious how much more tragic his fate would be, were they to find out it was him.
The Dark Lord, after all, would lose his spy if he killed Peter, contrary to Dumbledore, who had no reasons to let him live. Besides, even if, at times, he forgot of the way normal people processed emotions, he was a grown man now, and he did know all about the theory: Dumbledore, his friends and, most of all, Molly Weasley, contrary to him, would remain forever affected by the information he had just leaked being responsible for the death of the Prewett brothers, whose location he gave up.
Peter felt genuinely sorry the Wizarding World had lost two more competent wizards for this war, but he had not known Gideon and Fabian all that well, and his life was at risk, so it was worth it.
And, just like he had guessed, The Dark Lord didn't punish him and Malfoy to death: one more proof he'd made the right call. The Cruciatus still stung days later, but it was okay: James and Lily invited them for dinner after Moony returned from a mission, they ate home-made pasta, Lily announced she was pregnant and Sirius and Remus immediately went for a hug.
Honestly, Peter failed to understand why this was a good thing… They were at war, for fuck’s sake! Normal people were so fucking dumb.
In any case, that was the day he began hating the fetus inside Lily's belly. Before the pregnancy, He Who Must Not Be Named was mentioned James Potter's name here and there, in passing, but it wasn't until he fought for a second time "a brown-skinned boy and a redhead girl" he'd recognised from when, in Peter's seventh year, there was an attack in Hogsmeade and Lily and James were able to block his stunt and apparate all of his friends away, that it all clicked.
"She is a mudblood bearing a pureblood's child, do you say?" he mused. "I did wonder, back then, of course, and none of you were able to say from my description. James and Lily Potter. I shall remember those names, for they already defied me twice, and maybe he is worthy enough to be granted the possibility of redemption. He will take it, if he wants his half-blood bastard to survive our glorious victory. "
"Of course, my lord! That's such a good take on it my lord!" Bellatrix and Lucius squealed, practically at the same time.
It was embarrassing. He was not sure who of the two of them was more in love with him.
"My lord," Lucius followed, probably desperate to outsmart his sister-in-law. "You know, young Wormtail here is considered a close friend of the Potters, and held in high-esteem."
“Is he?” How was it possible that someone’s voice sounded so delighted and furious at the same time? “You’ve been withholding information from me, Wormtail.”
“Not on purpose, my lord,” Peter squealed, as he reinforced his mind barriers. “They were indeed my friends at Hogwarts, up until Mulciber invited me to a meeting of young aspirants to join the Death Eaters, and showed me the truth. After that, I only kept in contact for the sake of appearances, because I knew they were joining the Order, and it would come in handy. Mulciber was made aware of this.”
“I see, and how come you weren’t with them that day?” The Dark Lord asked, referring to the Hogsmeade attack, and, for once, Peter relaxed, realising he could finally offer him a piece of truth.
“I was in the library, my lord, studying for my NEWTs.”
“Keep them close, young Pettigrew,” he said to him before concluding the meeting. “I have a feeling you will be very useful to the cause.”
Lucius accompanied him to the door. There was barely anyone inside, since now he had come out as a spy, Petter belonged to the most exclusive group of Death Eaters, and rarely got mixed with anyone else besides the Malfoys, the Nots, the Lestranges, the Yaxleys and a few others.
Sirius' brother died somewhere in 1979, Peter was not really sure since he disappeared very suddenly, and not even the Dark Lord knew what became of his most trusted researcher, only that he was dead. Honestly, all Peter had seen of him since Hogwarts were the Potion papers he co-signed with Snape, whose application they would later discuss in some of the meetings Peter attended.
Snape was considered kind of a wallflower among the Death Eaters, all because, from what Lucius had mentioned to him, he was ill-advised at Hogwarts, and did not attend the initiation meetings even though, as it turned out, by seventh year, he hadn't been marked just yet. Regulus Black, however, chose his position: his family name and pureblood status granted him the privilege to do so. In fact, Peter was an acquaintance of a friend of his, Barty Crouch Jr, who, thanks to his dad's influence in the ministry, the Dark Lord liked to keep close (and quite honestly, so did Peter—for similar reasons too), and Barty would not stop whining about Regulus refusing to "get out there" and make some "real change…" It was getting annoying.
It was also the reason Peter had at first assumed he had deserted, and was hiding somewhere in the unknown. It was the reason his alarm bells did not set off when Sirius ranted his ear off about Regulus asking him to meet, and never turning up—not until You-Know-Who confirmed his death a week after his disappearance, and the Blacks buried an empty coffin.
Sirius learnt the news in December, he was very drunk when Dumbledore told him, and his first response was "no he isn't."
Dumbledore sighed, and patted his shoulder.
"I'm afraid he is," he confirmed. Sirius clutched Remus' forearm, and shook his head. "Your parents are celebrating an intimate funeral. My sources tell me that he may have tried to desert, but again, there is nothing confirmed, only that, well, rumours say…"
"What?" Sirius snapped. "Pray tell, what are people saying?"
"They say there is no body."
The headmaster exchanged some more pleasantries, asked Peter how he was doing at his ministry job (and with his mission, which basically consisted in monitoring his co-workers closely, to check they were not imperiused), and went off.
"He did not desert," Sirius said when they were left alone.
"Huh?" Lily asked, rubbing his small pregnant belly, with clear tears running down her cheeks. Tears! For someone she had barely met! For a Death Eater who fought against her very existence!
"He would have told me so, I've been asking him to get out for, well, since we began meeting, I've been— He did not— I will not believe he did, because if that's so, did I kill him? Did I kill him, even though I always thought I considered him already dead?"
There was a flicker of betrayal in Remus' eyes. Peter was the only one who saw it, with the rest of them busy hugging Sirius (Prongs most of all).
"What? You didn't know?"
Remus jumped at the sudden sound of his voice. He was a scary, fragil man, those days.
"You did?"
"Eye," Peter bragged, despite how inappropriate it was. He had finally been included in something.
The hurt passed quickly. Peter forced himself to hug Sirius, who insisted he "was fine" and "couldn't care less." There were so many things he knew, and Sirius didn't… He couldn't tell, though, his personal safety was at risk.
Remus insisted on taking Sirius home.
"Don't let him drink," James whispered to him.
Remus nodded.
Peter asked for dessert, but for some reason, Lily scoffed at him.
Seven months passed, and, by Harry Potter's birth, Peter Pettigrew was a convinced member of the cause. Not because of their beliefs (only Merlin knew how smart his muggle dad was in comparison to some of those lincels), but because of how much his chances of survival increased. It was bad, real bad: some people said the Dark Lord taking the Ministry was imminent, and Peter agreed.
As annoying as it was, Peter had been forced to check some people off his "protect-at-all-cost-except-my-own-death" list. Marls and Dorcas, for example, he had never minded them, they could die tomorrow for all he cared, but he hated the idea of making Lily sad. Still, he decided the next time he was told their whereabouts, he would not protect them.
By that point, Peter already had a masterplan: he needed to accomplish something, something big, which, when the Dark Lord won and a new regime was implanted, would grant his half-blood sister, blood-traitor mother and muggle father immunity.
Once upon a time, Peter had tortured a squirrel to avenge his older sister, and comparing the current situation to that one, he wondered what he would be capable of doing now, where the limit was.
The answer came to him in the form of a revelation: there was none.
When Harry was three months old, James and Lily had their first date night after the baby's birth. Sirius was asked to babysit (Remus was off on a mission again, which was causing strain between the couple), and, because of his stupid fear of being alone, he asked Peter to stay with him.
James and Lily's house was lovely, and very messy of course. Peter arrived at 7 PM, and knocked on the door hesitantly, shuddering at the mental image of the crying baby.
Harry was tiny and ugly, like a piece of cloth shrunken after a bad wash.
"At last! I need you to help me change him!"
"Do you really?" Peter teased. "You need me to change your godson? Aren't you capable of—"
"How dare you?" Sirius pretended to be offended. "Harry and I make a fantastic team, don't we pup?"
Harry didn't respond.
He continued crying, like the useless being he was, and Sirius rocked him, and broke singing some David Bowie song he instantly recognised.
"My father taught you that one," Peter blurted out as he stepped inside.
Sirius' face broke into a grin.
"Oh I love your father, I had such a crush on him when I was a teen."
Peter grimaced.
"Please, don't remind me."
"How is he? Is he…"
Now, that was a sentence he didn't need to hear come to an end.
"Safe? Yeah, they are hiding under fidelius, my sister is the secret keeper, and I… I have forgotten where they live."
Sirius deposited the baby on the changing table, and began to undo his onesie.
"Oh Peter, I'm so sorry."
Peter hated it, he hated that that was the moment he had felt the most vulnerable in in a long time, and all of Sirius' attention was stolen by that fucking baby, he hated that he had put his sister in danger by refusing to be secret keeper (not that his father would have let him anyway) because he did not trust himself enough not to reveal their location in a life-or-death situation, because he was not normal, and every day, he woke up hoping differently.
The third attack happened four months away from Harry's first birthday. Lily was helping heal the wounded (only those who couldn't risk it at Saint Mungus) in a safe house under the Order's protection. Peter was there, and so was James, and it took him a few moments to realise he had accidently given up their location the night before.
The Dark Lord had asked for an update on the Order's plans, and he had gone through Peter's memories, of course. Peter had thought nothing of it, since those who needed to be protected were safe behind his mental shields. But then again, the secret keeper had handed him a written note with the location Peter had forgotten to burn, and later found in his pocket. Had he given up the secret by memorizing the location?
“You did good, Wormtail,” The Dark Lord had praised him.
And Peter, unsure of what he was referring to, had let it be. One day later, Death Eaters knocked on their door, on James’, Lily's, Peter's and so many others’ door. Not Marlene's! Not Dorcas’, may she rest in peace! But Peter's! He had compromised his friends’ safety, and more importantly, his own.
He fought as much as he could without killing any valuable asset for his lord. His lord! He did not know when he had started to think of You-Know-Who by that name, but it was the truth, wasn't it? And doing so was fairly easy, since these were the ones Peter was able to recognise by their bodies and voices.
It lasted a couple of minutes, and it was over. He went to sleep, laying on the floor and surrounded by corpses, and the last thing he heard was Lucius’ voice.
“Sweet dreams,” the man whispered, and he realised Malfoy thought he was doing Peter a favour.
He woke up in a comfortable bed, with Sirius by his side.
“Oh thank Merlin! You are awake!” He went in for a hug, and Peter let him.
“Are they…?”
“They fought him off, Pete, they managed to escape,” Sirius gushed.
He didn't even need to ask who, it was written all over Sirius’ face.
“We didn't know what type of spell had gotten to you, or if you would make it, Andy came to take a look at you and said it seemed that someone had put you to sleep.”
“Right.” Peter chuckled. “What about Moony, do you know where he is? Or what he's been doing?”
Sirius’ face stiffened.
“He is still on that bloody mision,” he cursed. “Dumbledore says there is a spy, you know? It's… Fucking crazy is what it is. Prongs refuses to believe it.”
Peter's heartbeats got louder, and his hands, sweaty.
“And you? What do you believe?”
“I don't know Wormy, there have been too many coincidences, haven't there been?”
“Indeed” Peter replied, because it was the truth, because he couldn't bring himself to lie.
Life went on, it would never stop, not even for the day Severus Snape interrupted the death eaters’ meeting, and forced Peter to turn into a rat to avoid his eye. (It may be foolish to you, but Snape was unpredictable, Peter had memorised the way normal minds worked, and knew that buffoon was capable of betraying The Dark Lord if he thought Peter was putting Lily in danger. And so, he tried to hide from him as much as he could, and had even dared to talk about the topic with his lord, who agreed, as a precaution, they mustn't let Severus Snape know Peter was a Death Eater).
In any case, Peter's experience, in order to do what Snivellus had just done and live to tell the tale, you had to either be sure what you were about to tell was worth their lord's anger, or desperate enough not to care whether you lived or died in the first place. Personally, he had trouble imagining the second option, it made no sense, it had no room inside his head, but he knew most humans tended to do that, and Severus had always been on the emotional side…
“Severus Snape,” Peter's lord recognised him. “What are you doing here, boy?”
“It's Dumbledore, my lord, he was interviewing this divination teacher, Trelawney was her family name.”
His fellow death eaters laughed, and so did Peter, laying in rat form under his own, empty chair.
“You fool,” The Dark Lord grunted. “Who do you think you are?”
He raised his wand, and Snape backed down.
“No!” he begged. “I mean, please let me finish, this is important.”
His lord nodded.
“Go on, then.”
“As I said, he took her to a private room,” Snape recalled. “We were at Hog Head Inn, you see, I was minding my own business, but well, it caught my attention.”
“I remained at the other side of the door, and heard a regular, very mediocre job interview” he continued. “Dumbledore told her there would be no vacancies after all, she got desperate and went into a sort of trance.”
“A real prophecy,” The Dark Lord murmured.
“Yes,” Snape confirmed, “and it was about you, my lord. You and a boy destined to fight you, born as the month of July died from parents who faced you thrice.”
The room fell silent.
“You did good, Severus, now give me the memory.”
“Thank you, my lord.”
“NOW!” he bellowed.
Peter trembled, and for the first time, it was not because of his lord's angered voice, which wasn't even directed at him. He yearned to kill Severus Snape with his bare hands, to take limp by limp until there was nothing left.
He would have done it, had he had the chance, and all because his mind, freed from the weight of feelings, was capable of solving the mystery before everyone else's, and Severus Snape, who was still in love with Lily Evans for all Peter knew, had unknowingly handed her head in a silver plate.
A boy born at the end of July, a boy like Harry, from parents to defeat him thrice, parents like James and Lily. Alice and Frank would not even cross his mind until after The Dark Lord had reached a decision, months later, and he was informed what he had been musing about.
No, at that moment, he hated Voldemort, his own master, with a favour powerful enough to save Peter and his family when the Order lost the war; he hated Severus Snape and, most of all, he despised Harry James Potter.
“But this is fantastic news” said his lord the day Peter informed him the Potters were planning to go into hiding—mind you, they had been hiding for months, but now, somehow (Peter suspected how, of course) the prophecy reached them and made them finally opt for the fidelius spell.
“Is it, my lord?” Peter asked.
“Of course! You'll have it easy to extract their location, I expect.”
Peter had not even let his mind go there, not just yet. All he knew was that the Order was losing the war and James and Lily were keen on using a fidelius to hide themselves and their prophetic child.
“I expect Sirius Black will be the secret keeper,” he added when he confessed the truth to his lord.
Lucius Malfoy sneered.
“You simply ought to convince them otherwise, Wormtail” Lord Voldemort said.
“I will, and soon.”
It was not an empty promise. His analytical mind had no time to process the worst scenario possible was turning true, that the decision he never expected to take was about to fall upon him, and his life would always come before his friends’. Instead, it went to how he had used Sirius and Remus’ distrust in each other to go unnoticed as the spy in the Order.
He thought about all this, and came up with a plan.
A plan he would have followed to the book, had Snape not almost caught him red-handed on his way out. What the hell was he doing in the house again?! Snape now belonged to the closest circle, but Lord Voldemort had still ordered him not to bother him unless they called him, not yet trusting him enough with Peter's presence.
“I have a confession to make my lord, a private one,” Peter had heard him say.
“Oh?” Lord Voldemort's voice had turned hungry, and Peter did the unthinkable staying inside the room, in his rat form. He even found other rats in one corner, and went to join them.
Oh, if you could look at me right now, James , he thought to himself. I have suddenly embodied the person you hoped I'd become. If things go according to plan and your whole family is killed, you can't curse me from heaven and say I didn't look at every possibility. I went as far as risking my life to save yours.
“I have come to… care for the mudblood.” Snape's voice sounded full of venom, even more than usual.
“ Care ?” Now, that was pure disgust in its truest form. Peter's lord was like him in a way, he had always known that, from the day he met the powerful wizard. There was, however, one substantial difference: Peter had grown up wishing he was normal, and had worked hard to care like normal people did—hell! He had a mental list of family members and friends he aimed to protect unless they cost him his own life! Lord Voldemort, however, who shared with Peter the fear of his own mortal ending and desire to do well, took pride in his lack of ability to develop emotional bonds, and Peter guessed there was a sort of internal pride in him, which came with loving oneself.
“I am weak, my lord,” Snape admitted. “I am still fond of her. And it is for that reason that I implore you to spare her. Spare her so that I can have her. She is a mudblood, yes, but you have heard what the rumours say, she would be of great use to us.”
You are weak, Snivellus , Peter thought, but not for the reasons you think. There was no other muggleborn Severus Snape had ever come to care about but Lily Evans, now Potter, and one of Peter's best friends.
Peter understood Snape was normal, that he was begging their lord for Lily's life and not James’, who was not to blame for the prophetic child being his son anymore than her and would be just as valuable for the death eaters, precisely because he was normal. He loved her and hated him , in the same way Peter loved James and Lily as much as he could and despised the one called Harry James Potter.
What he honestly never expected was for the second most powerful wizard alive to agree.
“Very well,” he said. “I will give her a chance, but Severus, if she doesn't take it…”
“I know, my lord, I understand.”
That moment in time, that conversation… People often wonder what it is that could have changed what they came up to be, and in Peter's case, he was sure there had to be a world, somewhere else, where he didn't hear it, he went along with the plan and killed his friends. In this one, though, a more powerful wizard than everyone considered him to be learnt there was a chance, Lily had a chance (it was a shame, his death would cause him sorrow, but he was sure this would be what James would choose for himself given the option). If everything went well, Lily Potter might be able to save herself that ugly baby of theirs, and it was all thanks to Severus fucking Snape, who gave him the idea.
Yet, there was something much more important than his friends, something his sister cared more about than her brother's well-being, judging the letters she would send him from America every once in a while, and which Peter had not dared to hope.
He allowed himself to picture it in his head, just this one time:
Peter Pettigrew, the unknown spy who defeated The Dark Lord.
Oh dear, they better give me the Order of Merlin for what I'm about to do , he thought before apparating to The Potters’ house, the day they were supposed to do the Fidelius spell. Peter greeted his friends, Sirius was also there, ready to become the Secret Keeper, and Remus, like most of the time these days, was on a mission.
“Do you know when he is coming back?” Sirius scoffed at the question.
“No idea, mate,” he said. “We… We broke up, actually.”
A sombre silence followed.
Peter wondered if it had been his fault, blaming Sirius for Remus’ suspicions and vice versa. He had merely been working on instinct, it was the natural thing to do: he did not want to get caught, did he? And out of all the Order members, those two bastards were the ones obsessed with the traitor, unknowingly set on catching Peter.
And if that was so, Peter did not feel guilty, no, how could he have known? Sirius and Remus were the couple, in love since they were kids, together back when people their age simply did not get together. Them breaking apart was no more likely than earth splitting itself, the moon never coming close to the sun and the stars dying out before their time.
James, though, looked hunted, and so did Lily.
“Let’s begin, shall we?” James prompted him
Peter got ready, he was about to…
Sirius cleared his throat.
“Actually, I changed my mind.”
“You don’t want to be our secret keeper?” Lily frowned.
Sirius scoffed.
“I want nothing more, Lils,” he said. “I… Apparently I’m one of their main targets (after Harry and you two, obviously). Everyone knew you were gonna choose me, it’s kind of obvious, really. If I die, the spell would break apart on its own.”
Now, this was what Peter, tasked with performing the spell, had been waiting for. He had been prepared to make his case and, in the end, such a thing had not even been necessary.
“You can’t die,” James intervened, his hand tight on Lily’s shoulder, his expression aghast.
“I would,” said Sirius, “if I knew the spell would stick around, I would gladly die for you two and my godson.”
“We’ve lost enough ,” Prongs raised his voice, with tears around his eyes. “Don’t say that, don’t you dare to die before me, Pads, I’m serious.”
Lily said nothing, she studied her son, having a nap on his crib.
“I can do it,” interceded Peter. “I will be your secret keeper. Nobody has ever thought I was worthy of anything in life, they won’t expect you to choose me .”
“You are my friend, Peter Pettigrew,” James affirmed, firmly. “You are intelligent and kind-hearted, and I have always seen your worth, which is why I can’t let you do it.”
It hurt Peter how little James knew him. He supposed by “intelligent” he could mean Peter knew his way around life, that he was a survivor, but that was too much of a Slytherin trait for James to name. What Peter could never be, however, was “kind-hearted,” it simply wasn’t in his nature. James and Lily—who nodded at her husband’s words and hugged Peter by surprise—mistook by compassion Peter’s efforts of staying on their good side.
Sirius said nothing, his eyes met Peter’s, and he knew he had him.
“Are you sure?”
“What?” James protested. “Sirius, no!”
“You will be the bait, Sirius, and I will be the Secret Keeper,” he insisted. “You’ve got to let me do this, James, Lils, please .”
Silence followed.
After a few seconds, James and Lily nodded. Sirius performed the spell, and said goodbye to his brother and godson, who had just woken up from his nap.
“It’s possible I won't see you for a while, Prongslet,” he whispered.
The baby’s ugly face contracted in confusion.
“Pads?” he babbled.
Sirius sobbed, and brought him closer to his chest.
“Yes, that’s me,” he whispered. “I can’t promise to return, but I will promise to do everything in my power for you to grow up safe, and happy, with your mummy and daddy, eh?”
James, by Peter’s side, could not hold back his tears. Peter kept himself from rolling his eyes.
At that moment, while James and Lily said their goodbyes, Peter made a decision. He had leverage, he was the Secret Keeper, if he spoke to James outside the house… He remembered his first meeting at Hogwarts, how proud he felt he was spying for the Order, that finally, his friends would consider his company worthy.
Harry broke crying, Lily hugged Peter goodbye and took her baby out of the room. James stayed with him, and Peter took his chance.
“Do you still have the cloak?” he whispered.
James’ eyes widened.
“I was going to send it to Dumbledore, he asked for it.”
“Send it to tomorrow,” said Peter. “There is a spell, a combination of an invisibility spell I will use and a notice-me-not with an alternation that allows you to hear the people under it. It’s what Aurors use, we will be safe to speak outside.”
“What? Why not here? Say what you wanna say.”
“Those are my conditions, James,” he insisted.
His friend nodded, and Peter sighed out of relief.
The Potters’ home, like most wizarding homes, was impossible to apparate from or into, and that would have put Peter in danger. He was still in danger, mind you, if James did not react as he hoped he would, Peter would have barely a few minutes to reach The Dark Lord, give up their location and hope for the best.
For the first time in his life, and against all instincts, Peter was putting himself in a dangerous position, and it had been his own idea, nobody forced him into it.
They did the necessary spells, with James opting for the cloak and not for the invisibility spell (which most wizards were unable to manage, anyway), sat on a bench near the Godric Hollow cemetery and both reached for their wands, an instinct his friend immediately corrected.
Peter didn’t.
“Pete…”
“ I am the spy.”
James got up, pointed at him with his wand and shook his head.
“No, no…”
“Easy, James, I would not be telling you this if I was not on your side, would I?” Peter patted the seat next to him. “You know what I care the most about in the whole world? Self-preservation. Sure, after that goes my family, and you guys, but I come first. Do you think I am risking my position in this astonishingly stupid new world he is building just for the sake of it?”
James sat back.
“You are not going to give up our location, are you? God, what have we done?” He broke into sobs. “Please, my son, Pete…”
Something within him broke to see his friend in such a state, Peter did not think it was possible, but it did.
“Harry has already been saved, James,” Peter revealed, “and there is a possibility Lily knows.”
James quietened.
“What? How?”
Peter had been musing over it for a while, over the possibility of Lily knowing old magic—because well, she was Lily. He knew Snivellus had begged her to change sides, Lily had told the Order as soon as it happened. There was a chance she was hoping for the same ending Peter was hoping for.
The difference? Lily did not know Severus had begged The Dark Lord to spare her, she only suspected. Peter knew, just like he knew James would go face him before she could stop him, he would die for no reason whatsoever.
Yet, he avoided answering.
“Why don’t we start at the beginning? Ask me why, how and when, James. I’ve been waiting for this since I was seventeen. Don’t deny me that, will you?”
James gulped, and nodded.
And then, after years of waiting, Peter got to tell his story.
“You wanted to spy for us ,” he said at the end of it. “That’s… Why didn’t you tell us, Wormtail?”
“After that first meeting, I couldn’t.”
“But you… You are not a blood purist.”
Peter snorted.
“James, my father is significantly smarter than half of the people I work with.”
“Right.”
“You did not have to prove yourself, you know,” James added. “You are wrong, you were always wrong. We are gentler with you than you are with yourself, Peter, the only person who has always put you down is sat right by my side, telling me he is a Death Eater.”
Peter felt like a kid being reprimanded, and it was so stupid because it was him who had James’ life in his hand.
“I was never a spy for your cause,” he reminded his friend, “I only intended to be. I have done… things I cannot tell you, I’ve given up people you cared about to protect you four and, most of all, myself. I beg you to listen, because I have a plan to end this once and for all, and it involves…, it involves you. But first, you need to know how Snivellus accidentally saved your child’s life.”
That got James’ attention alright.
Peter summarised Severus’ meeting with The Dark Lord.
“Of course he cares only about Lily.” He scoffed. “I don’t understand, how…?”
“Old magic, magic Lily probably is well aware of, that I imagine she is hoping for,” said Peter. “When a witch or wizard is faced with the option of sacrificing themself to save someone they love (the key being in the word “option”, your life has to be initially spared by the killer), their loved one acquires an invincible protection, resistant to the killing curse and any kind of harmful spell that might come their way.”
“Now,” he added, “it is not known if it lasts forever, or just the one. Maybe Harry will have a life-long protection, maybe the spell will rebound on the attacker and that’s it. There is a ritual to strengthen the effect involving blood magic, but it’s not needed, it works fine on its own. Look for a rune in Harry’s door if you are curious, maybe Lily is one step ahead of us.”
“What are you saying?” James Potter, by that point, was asking for the sake of it. He had understood perfectly well what Peter meant. The truth was that neither him nor Peter had the courage to say it out loud.
“If I had told you nothing,” Peter revealed, “you would have probably faced The Dark Lord as soon as he barged into your home, wouldn’t you have? Lily is absolutely planning to step in front of Harry’s crib and sacrifice herself, but again, she is just hoping Snape begged for her life, she is not aware he already did. You will die , pointlessly, Lily will defeat The Dark Lord and nobody will ever give her credit for it. You know how it is, for witches, she will be one more victim.”
James’ eyes light up. Peter did not think it was possible, for someone wanting to live to be that excited about his own tragic fate.
“If you beg for my life,” he understood, “I will be the one sacrificing myself, Lily will still defeat You-Know-Who, yes, but she will live. ”
Peter nodded.
“As long as you make sure to face him first, just… I was planning to lie to him about today, he will not know the spell is already done. You chose Sirius, you see, and I am going to be trying to convince you. This way, you can say your goodbyes.”
James gulped.
“For how long?”
“Halloween night.”
“How do you know I won’t write to Dumbledore as soon as you apparate, Pete?”
Indeed, how did he know?
“You? Turning down the chance to defeat The Dark Lord, to have your child grow up in a world which values not who he is, but what he’s done? I won’t beg for your life until the day before Halloween, James, write to that old hag at your own risk.”
Peter apparated, and spent the last fifteen days of the war locked inside his home, waiting for an attack which never came. James did not break the pact, and he heard back from Sirius he was specially ‘clingy’ to those he loved, that he would not waste a moment by their side.
The Dark Lord believed every word he said, and when the day before Halloween came, Peter sought him out, kneeled in front of him and announced they were changing secret keepers on the very next day.
“I will finally know their location, my lord.”
Voldemort smiled.
“Very well, Wormtail, you’ve done me proud.”
These words did not have any effect on him, but he pretended they did.
“My lord, I… I am worried about what’s to come.”
“In what way?”
“I believe in the new regime with all my soul, my lord, but I worry there won’t be enough pureblood wizards left.”
Voldemort nodded.
“A reasonable worry, Wormtail, even if unnecessary. They will surrender when the time comes, most wizarding families will survive and learn their place.”
“I think, maybe, if pureblood wizards were given the option of joining before meeting their end from now on, when your victory is consolidated, they…”
The Dark Lord snorted.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” he mocked him. “Those set on joining will beg, and those endangering The Wizarding World would never accept that offer.”
“Aurors and Order members wouldn’t, my most sincere apologies, my lord. I only meant it would reinforce the idea of how it is their own fault to end this way, they chose it, they had a choice. If you spare James Potter’s life, once he chooses to get killed, it will set a precedent. Many pureblood families of the light will expect the same offer and, contrary to the man I was tasked to pretend to be friends with, they will take it.”
The Dark Lord hummed.
“You have given me a lot to think about, Wormtail.”
Halloween night in the Potters’ home began with a happy meal. Peter spied them through the window, and noticed James’ twitchy moves under the table. He was nervous, he did not want to die, and Peter did not want him to either. There was just no other option, was there? When the dark mark appeared in the sky, everything happened the way it was supposed to: Lily ran with Harry upstairs, and James waited for him by the door, his wand stuck between the sofa cushions.
Peter did not think about the consequences, he acted.
He pictured what people would say of him, his parents, proud for the first time in their lives, his name in history books, calling him a hero. Most of all, he imagined his friends a few years from now, happy, together, with the love and respect they had never had for him deep inside their chests.
He stepped in front of the door, and made himself visible.
“Wormtail,” The Dark Lord greeted him, “have you come to watch?”
Peter met his eyes and strengthened his mind barriers.
“I cannot let you do this.”
Voldemort frowned.
“What?”
“I will not let you do this.”
“Wormtail, I am going to ask you to step aside, we will talk about this later.”
“No!”
“Step aside!" he barked. “Now!”
Peter closed his eyes, evened his breathing and counted to three.
He never made it to two.
A body fell on Voldemort’s feet. What a shame, he thought, another good wizard wasted. ‘Must have been his half-pure blood.
He stepped inside, and proceeded to give James Potter what Pettigrew had denied for himself, a life of greatness, knowing full well Potter was too much of a traitor to even phantom the idea of a world where wizards ruled and muggles obeyed.
James prepared himself to die, his eyes focused on Voldemort from the moment he walked inside.
“Join me, Potter, don’t waste your lineage this way.”
He almost sighed in relief. Peter had done it, he had convinced the most evil person on the planet to spare him.
“I will die a noble wizard,” he said, “rather than living like a coward.”
He closed his eyes, heard the spell and was hit by a rapid wave of pain.
James waited.
And waited.
And waited.
He felt it crawl inside his skin.
Come on… What is taking so long?
A body hit the ground, and it wasn’t his.
With the door half-closed, he opened his eyes fast enough to see a faint, grey spirit flee through the window. In death, Voldemort looked no more than a wrinkled, nose-lacking man. Behind him, was one of his best friends.
There was something peaceful in Wormtail’s glassy eyes, a different kind of depth they had missed in life.
“Lily!” he sobbed. “Lily!”
And James, who was nothing if forgiving of his best-friends, decided he would not stop until everyone in the wizarding world knew Peter Pettigrew’s name. Needless to say, he was the only one to ever feel this way.