I DON'T BELONG HERE: INTRO

Summary: Petter Pettigrew: Stupid boy, foolish boy, coward, hero-worshipper, and rat. Except there is always so much more. A look into Peter's life, because fanfic authors are quite like Vonnegut's Tralfamadorians - we see in four dimensions. rated for language. COMPLETE

Disclaimer: Yeah, because JKR would ever try and vindicate Pettigrew in any way. as per usual, I own nothing. big surprise!

What this project is: so I have always been absolutely fascinated by the character of Peter Pettigrew and rather pissed off by both his treatment in canon and fandom because it's painfully under-developed and flat. Naturally, then, I spend a lot of time pondering the question "Who was Wormtail?" This is an attempt at that answer, in a way that hopefully depicts the journey of how one character goes from being the best of friends/brothers with some of the most beloved members of the HPverse to emerge as one of the most hated and poorly depicted characters in said 'verse.


Greetings - welcome to the gypsy of fortunes!

Your coin was very much appreciated, and now I shall grant you your future.

I seems my cards of tarot have dealt you a very odd hand:

a hand of six jokers, this is very rare.

I suggest something more hideous is approaching you;

You should be visited by a dark circus, a circus of horror pain and anguish.

This travelling mass of evil will leave your lifeless corpse to rot

while entrapping your soul to be displayed at future stops.

Oh yes, you must also be aware that it is your own evil doings

that have brought about this dreaded carnival's visit!

-Insane Clown Posse, "Wax Museum"


"Hero-worshipped Black and Potter. Never quite in their league, talent-wise. I was often rather sharp with him... Stupid boy... Foolish boy..." -Minerva McGonnagal, 1993

"Sirius, Sirius, what could I have done? The Dark Lord… you have no idea… he has weapons you can't imagine…. I was scared, Sirius, I was never brave like you and Remus and James. I never meant it to happen…. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named forced me — He — he was taking over everywhere! Wh — what was there to be gained by refusing him?" -Peter Pettigrew, 1994


Those born under the Hawthorn Tree are never what they appear to be, putting the ever-popular phrase, "don't judge a book by it's cover," to the test. On the outside is just an average person, living an average life...but on the inside? There is a person who has the burning desire and passion, an inexhaustible flame, which would frighten most people.

And for kids like Peter Pettigrew, who live most of their average lives keeping those flame quiet - because your life teaches you all sorts of things about yourself and who you should be, and they are both painful and hurtful- somewhere along the line, it will have to come out. It will rage, rage, rage, stronger and more dangerous because they have drawn the short end of the stick. The world has this funny habit, you see, of telling you who you are. It doesn't like to let you stick up for yourself, either...and so kids like Peter often end up becoming nothing more, no matter how much it kills them.

Except, ironically, Peter. Who would've thought he'd become an exception? Not him, certainly.

But no one ever prepares you for the consequences, do they? Nor the realities or the costs; they never tell you that things go horribly, horribly wrong - or that when your mum used to say "you've made your bed, now you've got to lie in it," she meant it.

Peter Pettigrew: Stupid boy, foolish boy, coward, hero-worshipper, tag-along, and rat. Except there is so much more.

As easy as it is to believe that is not true, there is always always a story. Maybe it begins with a poorly dealt hand, maybe it doesn't. Maybe the deck is stacked against you, maybe it isn't. Does it matter? Are some stories simply not worth telling, no matter how intricate they may be?

Once you take a step back, and another, and another, and another - once you can see the whole picture - it's not about stories being worth telling. In fact, things make more sense in that they don't make sense at all. Petty questions like "why me?" have answers like "why not you?" When you can see in four dimensions, once you have total access to the past, present, and future, a comfortable fatalism develops. So no, the story doesn't really matter, and none of it means a thing, but it's still a story.

Every domino, every link in the chain, laid before your eyes, and suddenly, you realise...

there is no past. there is no present. there is no future. there just is.

and so it goes.


Yeah, I know the intro's a bit kooky. But this isn't a fully-fleshed out fic, it's a series of snippets and things. It's experimental. So goddamnit my intro is too!