Elizabeth Culmer (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
edenfalling) wrote2004-04-25 09:49 pm
edenfalling) wrote2004-04-25 09:49 pm
Entry tags:
[Fic] "Trust" -- Harry Potter
Peter reflects after PoA.
[ETA: The AO3 crosspost is now up!]
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Trust
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Peter, post-PoA
I remember when the Death Eaters first approached me, first hinted at the possibility of power. I was working at the Ministry in those days, in Magical Catastrophes, and I knew we were losing the war. I knew only a miracle could save us, and, unlike James and Sirius, I knew how unlikely miracles are. If they were common, after all, they wouldn't be miracles.
So I said yes. At the time, I suppose I hoped that I could learn enough to create a miracle -- that or parlay a bit of information here and there into enough favour to keep my friends alive after the Dark Lord won. There was no other way they'd survive his victory, not with the way they recklessly defied him. They never had an ounce of foresight between the two of them, and Remus never had the backbone to stand up to them.
I thought the world of them at Hogwarts -- golden boys, always knowing the answers, always witty, always charming enough to slip free from trouble. But in the real world? No, they had no idea how to get by. They were frozen at seventeen, I think, stopped at the age when everything was going their way, when the world was their oyster. Dashing, handsome, laughing bastards, not a drop of real concern or fellow-feeling for anyone.
They would have died for me, Sirius said, rather than betray me. Perhaps they would have. But would they ever have given me the slightest bit of respect? Would they have treated me as Peter, as a man, rather than as good old Wormtail, the tagalong, the short, bumbling idiot we're always slowing down to help? No, I think not.
Remus told me that I should have known they would kill me for my betrayal. Well. Some friendship that is. Seven years of school, and then an adulthood where I at least spent some thought on how to save their lives rather than how to die avenging their noble, useless deaths, where I walked headfirst into the darkness to see what I could learn, and all I get is a lecture on the nature of friendship and the business end of a wand.
I really don't think they quite understood how a friendship is supposed to work. Sirius and James possibly had a real relationship -- they listened to each other, at any rate. I was just a useful minion and Remus the one they felt noble for liking, the one who provided an excuse to look down on others who disliked him.
Ah well. I digress.
I served Voldemort with no particular qualms until the Fidelius fiasco. Shortly before they cast the spell, I received my first personal summons and was ordered, point blank, to find where the Potters were hiding and give that location to the Dark Lord. And that was the sticking point.
I'd told myself I was trying to keep my friends safe, but now I had a choice, stark as winter. Either I betrayed James or I didn't. Whichever option I chose, I might very likely die. Whichever option I chose, I betrayed somebody.
So I looked at who had truly been my friend. James? What had he ever done for me, really? Looked down on me, treated me like dirt. And the Dark Lord? Well, his influence had helped me advance in my career, get a larger salary, and earn my safety after the war.
Why are people so surprised to learn which option I chose? I consider that the true betrayal wasn't mine. It was James who betrayed me years earlier, when he took my admiration and instead of returning it with genuine friendship, treated me as a disposable, faithful dog, one whom he could kick and mistreat and insult, but who would always return to heel.
I am not a dog. I am a man. And I can judge how I'm treated and discern truth from lies. I am not faithful without returned faith.
And if Sirius and Remus can't see that, it's their failing, not mine.
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Inspired by the 5/25/04![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
15minuteficlets word #52: disaster
---------------------------------------------
I am now inspired to write another Peter monologue, this one post-GoF, to explain why he didn't leave Voldemort and what exactly he thought about the ridiculously involved plan to snatch Harry from Hogwarts. I mean, why not just nab him during a Hogsmeade weekend, for goodness' sake? Or at night during detention? False-Moody was there all year long!
I know, I know, there wouldn't have been a story otherwise, but still. Voldemort's psycho, as was Crouch, but this version of Peter very much isn't. So why did he go along with that mess?
[ETA: The AO3 crosspost is now up!]
---------------------------------------------
Trust
---------------------------------------------
Peter, post-PoA
I remember when the Death Eaters first approached me, first hinted at the possibility of power. I was working at the Ministry in those days, in Magical Catastrophes, and I knew we were losing the war. I knew only a miracle could save us, and, unlike James and Sirius, I knew how unlikely miracles are. If they were common, after all, they wouldn't be miracles.
So I said yes. At the time, I suppose I hoped that I could learn enough to create a miracle -- that or parlay a bit of information here and there into enough favour to keep my friends alive after the Dark Lord won. There was no other way they'd survive his victory, not with the way they recklessly defied him. They never had an ounce of foresight between the two of them, and Remus never had the backbone to stand up to them.
I thought the world of them at Hogwarts -- golden boys, always knowing the answers, always witty, always charming enough to slip free from trouble. But in the real world? No, they had no idea how to get by. They were frozen at seventeen, I think, stopped at the age when everything was going their way, when the world was their oyster. Dashing, handsome, laughing bastards, not a drop of real concern or fellow-feeling for anyone.
They would have died for me, Sirius said, rather than betray me. Perhaps they would have. But would they ever have given me the slightest bit of respect? Would they have treated me as Peter, as a man, rather than as good old Wormtail, the tagalong, the short, bumbling idiot we're always slowing down to help? No, I think not.
Remus told me that I should have known they would kill me for my betrayal. Well. Some friendship that is. Seven years of school, and then an adulthood where I at least spent some thought on how to save their lives rather than how to die avenging their noble, useless deaths, where I walked headfirst into the darkness to see what I could learn, and all I get is a lecture on the nature of friendship and the business end of a wand.
I really don't think they quite understood how a friendship is supposed to work. Sirius and James possibly had a real relationship -- they listened to each other, at any rate. I was just a useful minion and Remus the one they felt noble for liking, the one who provided an excuse to look down on others who disliked him.
Ah well. I digress.
I served Voldemort with no particular qualms until the Fidelius fiasco. Shortly before they cast the spell, I received my first personal summons and was ordered, point blank, to find where the Potters were hiding and give that location to the Dark Lord. And that was the sticking point.
I'd told myself I was trying to keep my friends safe, but now I had a choice, stark as winter. Either I betrayed James or I didn't. Whichever option I chose, I might very likely die. Whichever option I chose, I betrayed somebody.
So I looked at who had truly been my friend. James? What had he ever done for me, really? Looked down on me, treated me like dirt. And the Dark Lord? Well, his influence had helped me advance in my career, get a larger salary, and earn my safety after the war.
Why are people so surprised to learn which option I chose? I consider that the true betrayal wasn't mine. It was James who betrayed me years earlier, when he took my admiration and instead of returning it with genuine friendship, treated me as a disposable, faithful dog, one whom he could kick and mistreat and insult, but who would always return to heel.
I am not a dog. I am a man. And I can judge how I'm treated and discern truth from lies. I am not faithful without returned faith.
And if Sirius and Remus can't see that, it's their failing, not mine.
---------------------------------------------
Inspired by the 5/25/04
15minuteficlets word #52: disaster---------------------------------------------
I am now inspired to write another Peter monologue, this one post-GoF, to explain why he didn't leave Voldemort and what exactly he thought about the ridiculously involved plan to snatch Harry from Hogwarts. I mean, why not just nab him during a Hogsmeade weekend, for goodness' sake? Or at night during detention? False-Moody was there all year long!
I know, I know, there wouldn't have been a story otherwise, but still. Voldemort's psycho, as was Crouch, but this version of Peter very much isn't. So why did he go along with that mess?
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