Regrettigrew

A/N: This scene is a re-write of Peter Pettigrew's death in The Deathly Hallows, from his point-of-view. Written for Challenge One of the Hunger Games.

Prompt: Write a short story from the POV of your favorite Villain.

~*~

I have spent my entire life surrounded by shadows.

The uncanny thought slipped into my mind like a snake that is out to breathe venom through my veins. It surprised me, yes, but I couldn't help but think of it as true as I stepped down the steep flight of stairs, trying not to slip in the half-light.

Lumos, I thought automatically as the darkness enveloped me. The non-verbal spell caused my wand tip to ignite and cast shadows along the dark, stone walls; I watched them skate around, like invisible ghosts. But there are no ghosts at Malfoy Manor, I reminded myself. There are only prisoners.

I placed a metallic hand against the musty wall and squinted at the heavy, wooden door at the bottom of the stairs. Potter and his friends were quiet now. I knew I should check up on them, though, not merely because Lucius requested me to do so, but because we had heard a loud sound come from here: a sound similar to that made by one who has just Disapparated. I swore lightly under my breath. Slipping and sliding and tripping over my feet, I reached the bottom of the stairs. I hesitated for a second, my wand held aloft, its tip grazing the old oak. Something was wrong. I could feel it. It wasn't the darkness playing tricks on me, but more of a sense of ... intuition. I had never been thought of as an intuitive person, but having spent half my life a rat, I was smarter, faster and more cunning than anyone would believe.

I was also much more afraid to act.

Just open the damn door, a voice yelled inside my head. Do you really want to get into trouble with the Dark Lord?

I gulped as his face streaked through my brain. His scarlet pupils were staring through me, like shallow pools of blood. His face was gaunt; his laugh sent trails of fire cartwheeling down my spine and an icy fear settled in my heart. 'Open the door, Wormtail.' His cold voice resonated in my skull before crashing down in the pit of my stomach like hot-but-cold-yet-hot iron. 'Or if you want, Nagini could take care of it, instead ...' The Dark Lord snapped his fingers once, his face twisting into a cruel smile, and I heard a tell-tale hiss before the world plunged into darkness.

I shivered, drawing my breath in deeply as the vision faded. I knew it wasn't real, but it certainly felt so. This cellar always gave me the creeps. Here, seconds felt like months, and minutes felt like years. I didn't know how long I'd been standing there, but it couldn't have been more than a few seconds at most. I bit down on my lip anxiously. Everyone was waiting for me upstairs; I had to hurry.

Get over with this, Wormtail, and get out of this cellar. I needed to be firm with myself.

Carefully, I pressed my ear to the door. There was silence, except for the sound of heavy breathing on the other side; it was obvious that Potter and his cronies were still inside, trapped in the cellar. Just as they should've been.

'Stand back,' I called loudly. 'Stand away from the door.' A pause. Then: 'I'm coming in.'

I waved my wand at the door once; it flew open almost immediately.

The first thing I saw as I stepped into the dank, smelly room was the light. Three floating whirlpools of incandescence bounced off the tips of their owners' wands--one of them being mine--and I had to squint to see properly; it was too bright. Then, two heavy bodies came crashing down on me like sacks of potatoes, except with arms and legs. I struggled, but Potter and his blood-traitor friend, Weasley, succeeded in pinning me against the wall. Weasley seized my wand arm and forced it upwards. Hard. I squealed with surprise. Potter immediately covered my mouth with his hand, succeeding in muffling my voice so I could do no more than struggle in silence. I thought of spells to cast, my mind working furiously, but all hexes, jinxes and curses seemed to have been wiped away from my memory; it was no more than a clean slate. My wand belched; sparks flew out of its tip, but did my assailants no harm. I grunted and, with some effort, slipped my hand from Weasley's grasp. In one swift movement, I closed my silver fingers around Potter's throat. I was so intent on pressing down on his skinny neck that I barely registered the fact that we'd probably made a hell lot of noise.

'What is it, Wormtail?' I heard Lucius Malfoy call from above.

'Nothing!' Weasley wheezed; stuffing his fingers in my mouth, he attempted to mimic my voice. 'All fine!' he said.

My eyes were bulging out of their sockets from the strain, but I did not give in. My fingers tightened around Potter's throat, and satisfaction coursed through me as he gasped for breath. His face, previously flushed, was now clammy and white. He attempted to prise my metallic fingers from his throat, and somehow managed to choke out the words:

'You're going to kill me? After I saved your life?' He gagged. 'You owe me, Wormtail!'

Suddenly, the world stopped making any sense. My mind felt numb and Potter's words etched themselves like black lettering in my mind.

You owe me, Wormtail.

I saved your life.

You owe me.

You owe me, you owe me, youowemeyouowemeyou--

My fingers slackened and Potter immediately wrenched himself from my grasp; he blinked with surprise. Obviously, he had not expected this.

And neither had I.

My world was veering out of control. Unwanted emotions swept over me, like a tidal wave of molten lava, draping my senses with carpets of ash.

What are you doing?! I screamed mentally. You weak--weak, foolish--

I struggled against the two boys more powerfully. Undo your actions, Pettigrew!

I felt someone pulling my wand from my hand; a quiet mutter, but I couldn't make out the words. I could feel my eyes widening with terror. I was helpless. I had lost my wand. I had betrayed the Dark Lord.

I had betrayed--

My eyes focused on Potter's face: his thin, sallow face; mouth open in surprise, his green eyes were wide. And at that moment, I was reminded of a laughing boy with messy black hair; a girl with green eyes that seemed to peer into your soul. I was reminded of a cottage: a village on a cold October night. Betrayal. I could taste it on my lips. I could sense it seething through my skin and creeping up my arteries.

Lily and James, I thought. Lily and James.

Sparks flew. Dawn and dusk became one. I knew no time; I knew no space. My eyes left Potter's and traveled downwards towards my silver fingers which were moving towards my own throat.

'No,' I croaked weakly, but my own hand had turned against me. I was being punished for my moment of weakness, of pity.

~ I lust for light, and yet I am frightened of it. I long to be powerful, yet power is what has destroyed me.

Don't give in, Peter. Don't give in.~

My fingers were gripping my throat, crushing it. I wheezed, I gasped, I sputtered for breath, but already I could feel life slipping away ...

Betrayal, I thought before my vision gave way.

And all was still.