The Tale of a Despicable, Slimy Turncoat

The Tale of a Despicable, Slimy Turncoat.

Knockturn Alley caters to all kinds of crowds, even to 'Turncoat Rats' which is, I believe, my new psudonym.

Merlin knows it's better than Wormtail. Have I ever mentioned how much I hate that name? James thought it up, hell, he thought up all our nicknames- Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs- and I, cowardly git that I am, didn't speak up.

So now I'm stuck with it.

What they hell's wrong with calling me Peter? It's a good name for pity's sake, simple, not hard to remember, and, well, it's mine.

Ah grief, here I am again, dwelling on my past again. I really have to stop doing that. Nostalgia or not it was a bloody miserable time of my life, and I should say I'm well rid of it, save that my current existance isn't much better.

Great, let's just wallow in self-pity Peter, like that's going to make us feel better or change things.

It's just that I keep feeling like I'm up shit creek and I've left my wand at home.

No, scratch that, it's not really that bad, it's just that I feel kind of hopeless. Don't get me wrong, being a Death Eater's okay, there are worse things to be in my mind and it's one up from how it was at Hogwarts.

But see, the roof and crown of things is that I'm a coward.

A rotten, stinking coward and Sirius yelled at me that day, fifteen years ago when James died.

He was right, not that I was rotten or stinking (I'd had a bath that morning), but that I was a coward.

Look out for number one, very unpopular these days, but just think it over for a moment, imagine that you're going to die. You're never going to do anything again, never going to fall asleep in your bed again, never feel the sun on your face or watch the stars, you're never going to do all those little things that seem so unimportant in the grand scheme of things but oh so good to you.

Never going to read that new book, never going to get a new music album from your favourite band and crank the sound up so loud the whole house shakes.

Never going to visit all the places you've always wanted to go to, never to get drunk with friends and sing dumb songs off key.

Never going to do ANYTHING again.

Suddenly feel like begging your killer to take out the other bloke? Feel like begging, promising anything, just to keep that little, miserable spark of light inside you alive?

Suddenly scared of that dark rising up around you?

Join the club.

I want to live, you see, my life might be a bit grotty but at least I'm living it, and anyway, it might get better later, you never can know.

And yes, I did join because of protection, Sirius (r.i.p. old friend) was right about that. But then, I am a coward.

He should know.

Gods, why else would I have hung around with Potter and his merry band of idiots? It was either that or I would have ended up being bullied as bad as Snape, right little bully magnet, that's me.

Even that, they never seemed to do anything save put me down, pathetic little being that I am- oh, here I go again.

Now Sirius, please tell me why in the seven hell of chaos I should have died rather that tell Voldemort where James and Lily were hiding?

All very well for him to tell me they'd have died for me, jolly good, their lives to waste.

I guess they did die for me, in a way. Their lives or mine.

The life of someone I hated and a child I hardly knew for my own.

I'm really despictable.

I don't just think it, I know it. So it's stopped bothering me.

I'm a coward.

I don't miss them exactly, I don't know if I felt guilty for so long it's become part of me or if it just wore off after a while.

I guess the latter, it just got forced out due to everything around me, life.

Waste of time feeling guilty, in my opinion. It's happened? Can't change it? Why bother about it? I have better things to do.

I have done some pretty horrible things in order to stay alive, but they have worked, look at me, alive.

Cowardly, yes.

Double-crossing, yes.

Trecherous, yes.

But alive.

And that make it worth it, for me. But then again I'm not anyone else, so I'm the only one who matters, for me.

Add selfish to the list.

This is Peter Pettigrew, Wormtail, turncoat, coward, selfish, Death Eater, Marauder, failure, murderer and an all round despicable individual.

Still alive.

And planning to keep it that way.