Peter Christopher Pettigrew [wormtail]

[pete]

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{ A B O U T . Y O U }

Name: princess fief.
Gender: femme.
Age: eighteen. sheeeyut i’m old.
E-mail: xoxo
Twitter: xoxo
Years of RPG Experience: six.
Other: removed by staff.

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{ Q U I C K . Q U I Z }

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What about ISS inspired you to join? xoxo
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{ A B O U T . T H E . C H A R A C T E R }

Name: Peter Christopher Pettigrew.
Age: Eighteen.
Gender: Male.
Year: Graduate.
Face Claim: Jamie Bell.

Canon or Original? Canon.

Facial Properties:

in comparison to J A M E S

Though James isn’t necessarily the handsomest of their little foursome in Peter’s opinion, Peter knows that he is definitely less attractive than him. Where James’s face is slim and smooth, Peter’s is round and stubbly, covered in faded acne marks as a branded reminder of his youth. Probably one of the most alluring features on James’s face is his wonderful bone structure, which Peter has always coveted. Peter’s face is, in his opinion, rather flabby, and even though the Order training has helped him lose some weight, he still feels as though the residue of his obesity linger in traces on his cheeks. Even if he had good bone structure, his cheeks would obscure it. James can wear stubble so well, and even a beard if he wanted! But Peter just looks silly when he tries––silly, or unkempt, either equally unfavorable. He tries to remain clean-shaven but sometimes it’s just too much of a chore to shave with his dull little razor. That, and part of him is wanting to be just like James with his small about of stubble. And another part of him hopes that maybe one time it will actually grow out right. He’s not really holding out for that one but he’s stubborn and he will keep trying. James is probably the most manly-looking out of the entire group––Sirius pulls off the scruffy look the best, but there’s no doubt that James looks good no matter what state of hair growth he’s in. Peter wishes he could be more like them.

in comparison to S I R I U S

Speaking of Sirius, Peter envies him his eyes. Sirius’s eyes are dark and brown and perfectly fringed, whereas Peter’s are watery and blue and too large and in an odd almond-shape. Sirius is the charmer. He’s always got a girl on his (perfectly muscled) arm. His lips are kissable, unlike Peter’s. His face is caress-able, unlike Peter’s. Everything about him is better than Peter. Peter never had much luck with girls, probably because the latter part of puberty he spent in an extra-large uniform, but he’s also thought it had a lot to do with the overall flatness and strange shape of his face. His nose is twisted to the side and very flat on the top, giving off the appearance of a shovel or spatula. He has too many eyelashes and consequently looks a little feminine, and his lips are too puffy and girlish. No wonder no girl wants to kiss him; even if he was fat, if he’d had a handsome face at least maybe he could have gotten a girl. But he doesn’t. He’s doughy and flat and effeminate––everything about his face is delicate and those few aspects that aren’t are too much in the other direction. In short, his face is a total disaster and its single redeeming quality is his ears, just because they’re to the side and you can’t see them that well at first.

in comparison to R E M U S

And then there’s Remus. Remus, who has the grace of the freaking gods, so much so that it even shows in his face. He’s got these thick, gorgeous eyebrows that Peter envies so much. See, normally, thick eyebrows are sort of gross. But somehow, even when a feature of Remus’s is supposed to be unflattering, it’s manly and hot. Which Peter thinks is terribly unfair. Peter’s own eyebrows are pathetically thinned out toward the ends and aren’t nearly as thick as he’d like them to be. Remus looks just so much like a man, and in every way that he looks like a man, Peter resembles a little girl. And then there’s Remus’s teeth––perfect, white, shapely, comely. But Peter’s of course are small and crooked, and as much as he tries to clean them they still give off a slightly yellow appearance. Remus’s hair, too, is dark and tidy and responds well to any kind of styling, whereas Peter’s is stiff and too light and is constantly in a mess no matter what he tries to do with it. In fact, if Peter tries to fix it, it just looks worse. With Remus, everything is effortless. With Peter, nothing comes without hours of trying and failing. As usual.


Physique:

in comparison to J A M E S

Maybe James isn’t as buff as Remus or Sirius, but let’s face it: in comparison to Peter, the guy’s stacked. At first glance, Peter may look a little burly. Well. Let me let you in on a little not-so-secret. That’s not muscle, that’s the remnants of fat. Pete used to be a bit on the… well, chubby side, but since he graduated he’s been trying to lose some weight (puberty helped him out a bit too). Okay, well, not really actively trying so much as experiencing weight loss as a rather positive side effect of helping his friends out with their ‘missions’ from Professor Dumbledore. He can’t be falling all over himself due to his blubber while trying to put out dark wizards, can he? So he’s been doing a little bit more physical activity than he’d like, and consequently has shaped up a little bit but by no means gained any actual muscle. Eliminated fat, yes. But still, he’s very soft. All his strength is in his lower body. What… little strength he has. Even James, though he’s on the thinner side, has some muscle to his name, and is definitely a strong and active wizard. Peter envies him that. But he doubts that even if he tried to work out, like hardcore, and actually get some muscle on his bones, anything would improve his appearance. Yeah. Nothing would do that short of a miracle.

in comparison to S I R I U S

And Sirius is buff too, totally freaking wrapped in muscles that Peter wishes he could have. Is it bad that Peter has also noticed Sirius has a really great ass? Like, he does, it’s insane. It’s not that Peter… looks at it like that, as much as it is that he’s overhead girls giggling about it before and then decided to see for himself. And sure enough, yep, Sirius has a great set of buns. Peter, being as endowed with flubber as he once was, never really knew what it would be like to have an attractive ass, but now that he’s seen Sirius’s he has yet another thing to be envious of. Peter doesn’t like to spend too much time in front of a mirror, but it’s not like he can avoid it when he’s getting dressed in the morning, so he’s noticed that yeah, his ass just isn’t that great. It’s better than it used to be, since he’s lost weight, but it’s still not… like Sirius’s. Sirius’s legs are great too, lean but with the proper amount of thickness. Peter’s are just short and stocky, because unfortunately Sirius is the size of a Roman and Peter is the size of a pre-pubescent Spartan. He stands at 5’11” and weighs… more than he’d like to say, and so he comes off as really just short and stocky, which he’s always been. At least he’s been getting better about it now that he’s exercising more.

in comparison to R E M U S

Remus doesn’t even work out and yet he’s taller and slimmer than Peter, which Peter also insists is totally unfair. Peter’s metabolism evidently works slower than Remus’s because even though he isn’t half as active as Quidditch-playing Sirius and James, he’s still much better looking and much better built than Peter, who is just as inactive as their other two friends. Peter tried to play Quidditch, but he can barely stay on a broom let alone pilot one around a field in pursuit of a ball or worse, balancing a stick with which to hit balls whizzing at him at speeds much too fast for being heavy and covered with leather. And yet, Remus still possesses this sort of unparalleled grace that perhaps even Sirius and James are too brutish for. Girls adore Remus too, of course, but for highly different reasons than those for which they go crazy over James and Sirius. The point is, though, that sadly Peter has none of the required characteristics found in his friends required for being handsome, and is often left out of giggling girls’ gossip gaggles, unless of course they’re mocking him for being ‘the ugly, fat one.’ He’s lumbering and loud and totally ungraceful; Remus’s polar opposite in every way, shape, and form.


Wand Type: Chestnut, 9¼", dragon heartstring core.
Wand Expertise: Potioneering, dueling. Very versatile.
Patronus: Rat.
Boggart: Lord Voldemort.

Personality:

Ever since he was a little boy, Peter was… different, from his parents’ ideals. Of course, they wanted a large, strapping son who went out to conquer the wizarding world form Hogwarts to the Ministry, and instead… they got a little pipsqueak who ran away at the first inklings of danger. He’s afraid of spiders, of wolves, of big dogs, of elephants, of dark wizards, of broomsticks… essentially, Peter is just about afraid of everything. His parents aren’t quite sure how he ended up this way, seeing as they tried their very best to instill in him all the qualities of a brave wizard, but sadly it seems their efforts were wasted as Peter is definitely nothing more than a frightened little ninny. Despite spending his seven years at Hogwarts with the trouble-making Marauders, he never quite outgrew his cowardliness, even when every month he confronted a werewolf as a mere rat. Young Mr. Pettigrew was constantly in terror of his dear pal Remus during those long nights, though he did his best to obscure his fear and focus more on somebody other than himself. Not an easy task for Peter, but then again it isn’t really optional when you’re trying to pacify an enormous fuzzy beast with large teeth. At any rate, despite his attempts to try and be brave (as he promised the Sorting Hat he would when he begged to be in Gryffindor) everyone knew Peter as the coward of the foursome. He assumed James, Sirius, and Remus all knew it too, only perhaps never said anything out of courtesy for him. A few jabs here and there was all in good fun, but Peter never took ridicule very well at the hands of his three best friends. He isn’t a very sensitive guy, at least not as much as he had been when he was very young, but it’s probably a fair assumption that nobody wants to be put down by their friends. Little jokes he could take in stride, in fact he often put himself down in order for his friends to be amused––but anything more than a harmless little remark might be enough to send Peter into a downward spiral of self-pity. Which… you don’t want witness if you aren’t in the mood to have your ear talked off. Peter doesn’t defend himself because he’s too afraid it will upset the offender and lead to worse trouble, so he merely withdraws into himself and wallows. He rarely sticks up for himself, so every wrong anyone’s ever done him just festers within. He would snap, if he wasn’t afraid to. When he finally can’t take anymore he merely writes a hateful entry in his diary or whines to anyone who will listen to him.

His parents wanted him to be something, do something meaningful to someone other than himself. They had such high aspirations of him that poor Peter grew up having his future pounded into his head every which way he turned––he was treated like an adult from the day he was born and so truthfully lacked a significant childhood. And what was the effect of this treatment? Well, he felt as though anything he ever did wouldn’t be good enough for his parents anyway, so… he just didn’t do anything. They wanted him to join the Ministry as some kind of high-class employee, such as an Auror or Unspeakable, but all of that required him to get nearly perfect marks on nearly everything, and that was totally out of his reach, if we’re being painfully honest. The poor kid’s not in Ravenclaw for a reason, if you catch my drift. His parents would drill him and drill him on everything to such an extent that he began to loathe every little thing they had set up for him to achieve in his future––working at the Ministry, marrying a nice witch, settling down and being wealthy and doing them proud while making dozens of adorable grandchildren for them to dote upon. It was a nice life, or seemed so at one point in his younger years, but it was not meant for Peter. He slacked in school, had absolutely no luck with the ladies, and spent money before he even had it. His parents wanted him to join the Quidditch team, too, in order to build up his muscle, but Peter ate and ate and ate so much out of stress, mostly, that when it came time for the try-outs he could hardly balance himself on his broom let alone pilot it steadily. It was then that Peter decided, the hell with his parents’ expectations and plans for him: he just wasn’t good enough. All he wanted to do was relax for once in his life, and it was with James, Sirius, and Remus that Peter finally found his desired respite. Sirius and James were notorious for causing trouble in school and for slacking in their homework, so Peter of course quickly meshed with them and their lifestyle and despite the influence of Remus being constantly smarter than all of them, Peter hadn’t ever been happier. He finally fit in and was able to exercise a life of laziness to his liking, bathing when he pleased, not doing his homework, eating whatever he wanted, and watching Quidditch without having to worry an ulcer into his stomach about having to be able to get up there and do it for his parents. What became an indulgence in a sedentary lifestyle, though, soon because a permanent habit, and it was then that Peter gained more and more weight and eventually earned the distinction of the ‘short, fat one’ in reference to his Marauding friends group. The only time when Peter showed the least bit motivation at all was when he and his friends dedicated themselves to the study of becoming Animagi in order to keep Remus company when he transformed into a werewolf once every month. Even though he was mildly disappointed when he discovered his animal form was a rodent, he quickly became proud of himself for at least mastering one of the hardest abilities in the wizarding world, and at such a young age too. If only he could have told his parents, they’d be proud.

This quality of Peter’s really only surfaced when he joined Gryffindor House officially and struck up a friendship with Remus, James, and Sirius. He had been fueled with desperation to get into Gryffindor House, seeing as that was the single one his parents would accept him being Sorted into, and was also fueled with terror when the hat was placed on his head and informed him he belonged in Slytherin. Peter had begged––pleaded––with the Hat, and vowed he would do his best to be brave and strong and smart like all the other Gryffindors. As the Hat has been known to take the students’ requests before, so did it listen to Peter and grant his plea. But it was quite clear that the poor boy was in over his head, seeing as he was absolutely the most un-Gryffindor-like Gryffindor Hogwarts had ever seen. He needed to learn how to be better, how to improve himself, how to live up to his promise to the Sorting Hat. And that is when he met James Potter, Remus Lupin, and Sirius Black, the most amazing three lads he had ever had the fortune to encounter. They were so handsome and so strong and so brave and so funny and Peter was obsessed with them nearly before he had ever learned their names. The obsession he would later cultivate seemed to have begun as a sort of survival tactic of Peter’s; watch Remus and James and Sirius and learn to be the kind of person, the kind of son, you are expected to be as a Gryffindor. At first he didn’t think they liked him much, but it didn’t matter, he followed them around day and night and could not be stopped. He recorded their movements and their habits and their mannerisms and tried to replicate them himself, though he didn’t have much luck. He wasn’t as graceful as Remus or as handsome as Sirius or as witty as James––he was just plain old Peter. But soon enough they began to catch on to Peter’s hero-worship of them and the foursome quickly formed. As friends should do, they only strengthened the qualities that were intrinsic to Peter, rather than those that he desired to gain from their influence. Still, he was as happy as ever, because he was finally included in a group that seemed to value him. However, he has often been confused by his feelings for his three best friends. At times, his obsession and envy has reached such heights that he actually feels sexually attracted to them. He doesn’t understand it, because he’s been into girls since he was little and likes them still. But there are those flickers of the next level of obsession that spark around his friends and he is both frightened and disgusted by them. Peter has difficulty expressing his emotions, and even though he does love his friends dearly, he has no idea how to say so. Having been raised as a detached adult from his parents, Peter never knew how to form healthy bonds with people and consequently struggles with his feelings for his friends, unsure as to what feelings mean what and what boundaries are established where. In many ways emotionally he is very much a child.




Everything exists for Peter’s benefit, if only he can figure out how to get people to do what he wants them to. Peter isn’t smart. But he can be good at using people due to his lack of guilt and empathy. But his opportunism doesn’t just come from his interpersonal relations. He measures everything in terms of its worth to him. He’s calculating and cunning in that way, however daft he can be in every other direction. Even when he may benefit at the cost of somebody else Peter is willing to take action for himself. It doesn’t matter. He can deal with half-hearted apologies and pleads for forgiveness later, as long as he gets what he wants in the end. This is in part what makes him a true Slytherin. He is entirely self-serving and is more than willing to sacrifice even his closest friends in order to either protect himself or achieve his own desires. Does this make him a bad person? Partially. This trait of his wasn’t so pronounced at first but was only strengthened by the rubbish parenting of Mr. and Mrs. Pettigrew, causing Peter not only to believe it was acceptable to use people as such but also to enjoy himself while doing it. He was a selfish boy and is now a selfish man and though it is entirely within his control now the enabling of such behavior was hardly his fault. Most of all, though, Peter just knows a good opportunity when he sees one and does not understand how loyalty could possibly prevent you from seizing the day, so to speak. Why should you have to be tethered down to your friends and be forced to choose between them and something that could be truly profitable? It doesn’t make sense, really––your friends are supposed to support you, supposed to help you get what you want no matter if they disagree with it or not. So loyalty shouldn’t prevent opportunism, in fact it should promote it. And again, Peter assumes that everyone either thinks or should think this way. As for himself, he has never known an existence where he wasn’t thinking of himself and his own needs first. That’s how it’s always been and how it always will be: what benefits Peter, and how can he get it?

Peter has a talent for morphing himself. Because he does not form very many significant emotion attachments and lacks some abilities in generating the feeling of empathy or remorse, he is able to become what people need him to be in certain situations. Even though there’s still that underlying self-serving and cowardly layer, Peter is able to sense what people want from him and attempt to give it to them, sometimes successfully and sometimes not. He also knows which sides of himself to show to certain people and which not, adding to his talent of manipulation. He may not be book smart, but Peter is exceptionally good at reading people and fitting the mold of their beliefs when he feels sufficiently motivated enough. Most of his true self comes out around the Marauders, but with everyone else there’s no telling which side they’ll see: sensitive Peter, hurt Peter, comforting Peter, dumb Peter, mean Peter, etc. His multiple ‘sides’ are determined by the particular situation or person that demands them. For instance, Severus Snape often draws out the more menacing and antagonistic Peter (under the shelter of his friends, of course), whereas Lily Evans inspires Peter to show a more sensitive and tender side of himself, often in need of her sweet comfort and pity. But this all boils down to once principle: Peter knows how to show himself to people in order to get what he wants out of them. This isn’t some altruistic method of Peter’s to help people––ha, no. This is how he manipulates those who he can read, because Peter has a tendency of tapping into the emotions of those who he knows well. To him it’s all a game of who he can use to his own benefit and when. Peter doesn’t feel bad, Peter doesn’t feel guilt, Peter doesn’t feel shame. It’s every man for himself, right? And sadly enough, Peter thinks this is the way most people function as well––he feels it is normal, that everyone uses each other and therefore he shouldn’t feel bad. Obviously his parents used him in order to live vicariously through him. So he has the right to use everyone and anyone who he pleases. That’s just how the world works.



Likes:

+ Potions.

“I guess it was the only subject I was ever good at.”

+ Popularity.

“Oh, come on now. Everyone wants to be known by everyone else. It’s only natural.”

+ Dark magic.

“If my friends found out I’d be toast, but it’s sort of a fascinating topic to me. Might want to try it someday. Is that bad?”

+ His nickname, ‘Wormtail.’

“Reminds me of who my real family is.”

+ Remus, James, and Sirius.

“…speak of the Devils, here they are, my real family.”

+ Chocolate covered frogs.

“Tasty little things. I could eat twenty of ‘em in one sitting I’d wager.”

+ Being talked about.

“It shows someone’s thinking about you, or that someone cares enough to bring you up in conversation. Means something, y’know?”

+ Having friends.

“No one likes to be alone, after all, and school’s no good without your best mates.”

+ Talking about himself.

“Not that anyone ever listens.”

+ Impressing people.

“I like people to think well of me, I reckon.”

Dislikes:

– Homework.

“Bloody boring and useless is you ask me. Never did a lick of it in my life and still managed to graduate.”

– Severus Snape.

“Annoying little creep, ain’t he?”

– Being left out.

“’S not fun to hear people talking about stuff when you’re not invited to know what it is they’re talking about.”

– His appearance.

“Let’s be honest, here; I’m ugly as a Gorgon on a bad day.”

– Slytherin House.

“Nothing good has ever come of those blokes if you ask me.”

– The Order.

“Disorganized. They’ll never get anything taken care of.”

– Quidditch.

“Watching it is fine, but being pressured to make the team and failing miserably sorta saps the amusement right out of it no matter who’s playing.”

– Detention.

“Darn waste of time.”

– His parents.

“Nothing was ever good enough for them except my leaving.”

– Secrets.

“Don’t like to be kept in the dark.”

History:

Peter Christopher Pettigrew was born to Christopher James Pettigrew and his lovely wife Elizabeth Ann Pettigrew on the fifteenth of August, 1959, at ten o’clock in the evening on the tail end of what had been an exceptionally ordinary day. Elizabeth had risen at midday, which she was prone to do in the later stages of her pregnancy, and had enjoyed a nice brunch with her husband in the morning room accompanied by a spot of tea and her favorite crumpets. Christopher read the newspaper to her aloud and the two cuddled in front of the fireplace under their favorite patched quilt that Elizabeth’s mother had made for them two Christmases ago. Yes, things were all quite, quite usual in the Pettigrew household that day, with of course the exception of Mrs. Pettigrew’s labor pains and water breaking just before she was about to take her evening bath at precisely seven o’clock, the same time which she took it everyday. Her husband had rushed her to St. Mungo’s and within three hours their beautiful little blue-eyed, fair-haired son was born, clearly inheriting the traits of both parents in what seemed to be a perfect unison. They called him Peter, after Elizabeth’s father, and gave him the middle name Christopher in honor of his father. Elizabeth recovered very well and was sent off the following morning with her baby son and proud husband in tow. They had arrived at their old renovated Victorian home to the gleeful welcoming of their small staff and had quickly retired to Elizabeth and Christopher’s bedroom in order to rest and feed their son. He was absolutely immaculate, they’d fondly concluded, with his tufts of blond hair and bright azure eyes. His skin was fair like his father’s and his mouth was wonderfully pert like his mother’s. The Pettigrews could not have been more delighted with their prize of an offspring, and quietly told themselves so as they put their son to bed in his neat little crib set in the perfectly masculine blue nursery they’d fashioned for him last month.

Yes. Everything about that day was exceptionally ordinary, and it would only be a few short years before the young Pettigrew couple discovered that their son was exceptionally ordinary too. Only that would not be as much to their taste.

You see, Elizabeth and Christopher had both come from exceptionally ordinary lives themselves. Elizabeth’s mother was a half-blood and her father a muggleborn. Both had been members of Gryffindor House and went on to work for the Ministry in the Magical Maintenance Department, where they met, fell in love, settled down, and had one daughter whom they named Elizabeth. Elizabeth had a lovely childhood in which she was indulged her every wish and attended Hogwarts as, again, a Gryffindor. Upon graduation she was employed at the Ministry just like her parents before her in the Department of International Magical Cooperation, having been skilled in the acquisition of various languages and taking pleasure in learning about other cultures. There, she met a ordinary-looking young man called Christopher Pettigrew, who was also employed at the Ministry and whom she had encountered during her time at Hogwarts, as well––in, of course, Gryffindor House. She’d always had a crush on the muggle-born wizard but had never had the courage to act upon it til they had both graduated and been working in the Ministry for over two years. Christopher worked in the Department of Magical Transportation, and though he had never really taken much notice of Miss Elizabeth during their time at Hogwarts, he did notice how much she had blossomed into her confidence after graduation and couldn’t stop himself from asking her out. Their courtship was excessively ordinary. He was a perfect gentleman and she was the complete picture of a lady. After a respectable two years of dating steadily, they were married in all pomp and circumstance that Elizabeth’s family could afford, and moved in to a nice little house in Surrey. Their life was stunningly convenient; it was easy to get in and out of London to the Ministry from Surrey, easy to get home, and easy to establish a very ordinary routine. They would meet up every day at the end of hours and would travel home together and Christopher would recline in the sitting room while Elizabeth prepared supper, and afterward they’d dine in the kitchen and then retire to the sitting room where they’d light a fire no matter what season it was and cuddle in front of it, reading the Daily Prophet aloud together so they could keep up on the times. All in all, it was wonderfully, blissfully ordinary, until Elizabeth discovered she was pregnant and the child she bore had absolutely no semblance to the ordinary whatsoever.

He was a weakling child, very frail and sickly during the first few rocky months of his life. His parents struggled to keep him alive. Ordinarily, their son would have been fine and strong with a loud pair of lungs on him. Ordinarily, he wouldn’t have had so many brushes with death at the slightest head cold. Ordinarily, they wouldn’t be disappointed in him for things beyond his control. But again, this is where the lives of the Pettigrews became anything but ordinary.

Peter’s childhood was relatively unexciting. His parents seemed to go off the deep-end, though, in their attempts to encourage him toward normalcy and ordinary-hood––he constantly had to deal with their insistences that he be in Gryffindor House, that he do them proud and get a nice job in the Ministry and make lots and lots of grandchildren, that he had to be brave and smart and interesting and essentially all the things he couldn’t be. Peter was timid and shy and quiet and bottled things up. He was afraid of all kinds of bugs, even butterflies. He hated the dark and couldn’t sleep without a night-light and ate so much that he couldn’t motivate himself to exercise. His parents tried to get him into Quidditch before he went off to Hogwarts, so that perhaps they could inspire him to try out for the team. But Peter was terribly fearful of heights and so riding a broomstick while multitasking with trying to play a strategic sport was totally out of the question. Still, his dad drilled him every day with moves and techniques and forced him to go ride in their backyard (of course when there weren’t any Muggles around). But Peter hardly retained any of this information and rarely applied himself to these lessons. He tried, the first few times… but when it became clear that he would wet himself when he got too high, he just stopped trying. But he was pitifully sad about it, for every child wants to impress his parents, and it seemed as though that was the one thing totally out of Peter’s reach. His parents treated him with an odd combination of required affection and poorly masked disdain, the latter of which only heightening when it was discovered that Elizabeth could no longer have children. It seemed as though their only child, then, was their pathetic little Peter, and that was quite, quite the opposite of how it should have been. They wanted a son who would do them proud and make a name for himself in the wizarding world, not some little ninny who jumped at things that went bump in the night. Truth be told, they were ashamed of Peter. And Peter’s tragedy was that he knew it and didn’t know how to change it. For a while he tried, really tried, to live up to his parents’ expectations of him––tried to be brave, tried to be strong, tried to be everything they wanted him to be and more. But he just couldn’t. The son they wanted and the son he was were two completely different people and in his child’s mind he didn’t know how to fix that. There were a few simple things he knew he had to achieve: get his Hogwarts letter, get Sorted into Gryffindor House, and get a job at the Ministry.

Peter only accomplished two of the above.

His Hogwarts letter came promptly on his eleventh birthday, as it ordinarily should, and his parents were pleased that he had managed to do something right. Peter was terrified. The idea of going to a huge school where there were hundreds of students and hard Professors who wouldn’t accept his lax behavior and slow mental ways was absolutely petrifying to the boy, and he almost contemplated running away. But he knew that would catch up with him eventually because he was rubbish at hide and seek, so he decided to tough it out. His parents got him all the most standard items he needed for his time there, including a little tawny owl which Peter dubbed Feathers. He clung to that owl cage like his life depended on it while he boarded the Hogwarts Express, choosing to isolate himself in a cabin alone for fear of interacting with anyone. What if he said the wrong thing? Or did something foolish? Or embarrassed himself in some way? He didn’t want to deal with any of it, so he shut himself in alone, clung to his owl cage, and cried. He wanted so desperately to get off the train and go home. Or not home, maybe just somewhere where he could be alone forever and never have to deal with anyone ever again. He was still thinking of ways to escape when he got off the train and headed toward the Great Hall to be Sorted. As the Hat fell on his head, Peter’s thoughts began to race––I have to be in Gryffindor or mummy and daddy will hate me, please put me in Gryffindor, I promise I’ll try very, very hard to be brave and strong, please put me in Gryffindor, please oh, please, oh please. The Sorting Hat voiced its opinion that Peter belonged in Slytherin, but Peter shuddered so violently at that that the Hat had no choice but to take into account Peter’s pleas and sort him into Gryffindor.

Peter would never be sure whether he or the Hat regretted it more.




It was clear from the start that Peter Pettigrew was not at all a Gryffindor. He was irresponsible, lazy, clumsy, unintelligent, fearful, cowardly, and self-oriented. He would lay in bed at night after writing his parents and cry to himself, wondering why the other Houses weren’t good enough, why he couldn’t just be put in Slytherin where he belonged, why it wasn’t acceptable for his parents. He just wanted to fit in, to blend, to be ordinary like everybody else. But now the deed was done and he was stuck with all the perfect little Gryffindors and he was faced with his inadequacy day after day after day. What he needed was to find someone to leech off, to learn how to be brave via mimicry. Peter needed someone. And that someone materialized in the forms of James Potter, Remus Lupin, and Sirius Black. They were Gryffindors in his year, too, and they were absolutely perfect. Everything they were was exactly what Peter wanted––needed––to be. So he watched them, observed them, and soon enough it became an obsession. Peter trailed after them like a shadow all day, every day, to record their every moment and to try and mimic them himself. They were so confident and sharp and funny and charismatic––so popular. Peter wanted to be just like them. And maybe if he followed them around enough, he could be. Only soon enough, they started to catch on to him. At first they made fun of Peter, laughed at his bumbling ways and his seeming obsession with them. But eventually they got kinder and kinder because well, Peter was just around so much and Peter assumed they got bored with mocking him and actually discovered the benefits in having their own personal groupie. They became fast friends, the four of them, and it soon held true that nothing could break those bonds of friendship. Not even, for instance, when Remus Lupin told them he was a werewolf and every month on the full moon he went down to the Shrieking Shack to hide his transformation. At first there was pity and fear––Peter of course felt sorry for Remus, but mostly feared for his own well-being. But Remus was still just as much of an idol to him as the other two, so he stayed by him just as James and Sirius had and in their fifth year with a lot of help from them managed to gain an Animagus form so that the four of them would transform together and help to pacify Remus in his wolf form. James was a large stag, Sirius was a shaggy dog, and Peter?

…well, Peter was a rat.

Of course it was embarrassing. But he took it in stride and allowed himself to be the butt of jokes among them. Eventually Peter felt more at ease about his Animagus ability and even more included in the group when they all devised clever nicknames for themselves in accordance with their animal forms: Remus was Moony, James was Prongs, Sirius was Padfoot, and Peter was Wormtail. Or, ‘Wormy’ for short. Peter for once felt like he had a true family in the three boys, who took to calling themselves the Marauders due to their prank-pulling ways. They were golden, though, the four of them––and Peter, though he was still a poor student and had not made his parents very proud of him, was happy. His seven years passed very quickly, and eventually when he graduated, Peter found himself mourning the loss of his school years. Sure, he’d hated the homework and the responsibilities and expectations, but the years spent with his friends were absolutely the best of his life and he was hesitant to let them go. His parents were disappointed with him, of course, for his troublemaking ways and his lax behavior, his bad grades and his lackluster attitude toward getting a job at the Ministry, but he didn’t care. He practically rejoiced when his parents eventually disowned him for being an embarrassment of a son, and gladly packed up his belongings and moved them to a little apartment he’d purchased in Southwark with the remainder of his savings. He got a job as a janitor at The Leaky Cauldron and worked nights cleaning it up for small pay that was just enough to sustain him. During the day he spent his time either visiting Sirius at Hogsmeade or training to be part of the organization against some new dark wizard obsessed with blood purity, which Lily and James had convinced him to join. He’d used to have a crush on Lily, because James had. He also used to have a crush on Marlene McKinnon, since Sirius had. At any rate, Peter isn’t so sure about this new ‘Order’ that’s starting to form. Sure, he’ll be a part of it for now and see where it goes, but from what’s he picked up on his evenings cleaning when the more shady guests come to the Cauldron, the dark wizard has a lot more power and a lot more support. He may not be ethically right, but he may be winning, and Peter doesn’t like to lose. He plays follow the leader with whoever’s leading fastest, after all.

And it remains to be seen who that will be.


Sample Post: please refer to posts made by regulus black, severus snape, theodore tonks, serena lovelace, and vanessa vaughn. <3

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{ C O N T R A C T }

I solemnly swear that I, teh fiefs, have read the rules, understand clearly what my responsibilities are now that I am joining ISS, and will abide by these standards set by the staff.

[Imogen Sauveterre]

accepted!