A/N: This is actually a rewrite of one of my old stories. I have deleted the original, and made some changes and updates. I still believe that Peter Pettigrew is a more complex person than the readers give him credit for, so this is my take. Enjoy!
The small, watery-eyed man stands in front of a tall, cloaked figure, trembling at both the fear of being in the presence of such a powerful man and excitement of what is about to happen.
As he waits for his new master to speak, he remembers his reasons for being here today.
He was bullied. He was teased. He was the stupid one. Poor pathetic Peter, they called him. Too stupid to do anything. The fat, useless boy who hung around the perfect James, Sirius and Remus. Never going to amount to anything, they said. Even the teachers had nothing nice to say about him. He was nothing to them; an insignificant pest.
Occasionally, he supposed, people were nice. But that was only because he hung around with the Marauders. But he knew what people said behind his back. That nobody really liked him. That he didn't belong in Gryffindor. That the Marauders were only friends with him out of pity. Perhaps it was true. Because even within the Marauders he was the outcast; the butt of all the jokes. He was the constant victim of pranks and teasing.
"It's all in good fun, Wormy." Sirius or James would say whenever Peter voiced his complaints. He hated that nickname. They others all got to be something cool, but he was stuck with Wormtail. On occasion, Remus would stand up for him, he supposes. But not often enough for it to make a difference. Anyways, Remus laughed at the mean jokes too.
Now James is being hunted by The Dark Lord. Good riddance. Who's the powerful one now, he thinks. I am. He's the one who is feeding The Dark Lord all James' secrets. Once they find out who was doing it the whole time, maybe they'll see the error in their ways. That they underestimated him. That he's the one in power now. He will get his revenge for putting him through hell during school. Now, The Dark Lord will put them through the fear and torture that he felt every day at school.
"Do you, Peter Pettigrew, accept to work for our cause?" The cold, high voice says.
"Yes, my lord." Peter squeaks.
"Will you do everything in your power to support the cause?" The voice continues.
Peter dares not look into the red slits The Dark Lord has for eyes and instead stares at the floor.
"Yes, my lord."
"Will you let any man, woman or child stand in your way?"
"No, my lord."
"Very well." The Dark Lord taps Peter's wrist with his wand.
Peter feels a searing pain on his wrist. It's like red-hot pokers stabbing from the inside of his veins while simultaneously having a sword slash at the skin. There are pins and needles in his arm.
He falls to the ground, writhing in pain. Trying to control himself, he keeps his mouth shut, but the pain is just too much. His ears are ringing, and The Dark Lord is laughing his cold laugh.
Then, as quickly as it had begun, the pain is gone. He looks at his wrist in disbelief. There it is. The Dark Mark. His mind races with triumph. Now he is more powerful than James, Sirius and Remus put together. He has the protection of The Dark Lord. Poor pathetic Peter is gone.
Peter Pettigrew smiles as he kneels in front of The Dark Lord's feet, kissing the hem of his robes.
Poor, pathetic Peter is gone. Gone at last.
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