i had slipped into a sort of forgetful doze, a skewed, dreamlike version of my former life where i walked familiar streets yet lived in unfamiliar circumstances, among different faces. peter 'wormtail' pettigrew. twenty. he/they. marauders era. former gryffindor. rat. comic book and chocolate frog card collector. card game extraordinaire. traitor.
WHERE: The place Remus dwells, or a public place like a cafe, or Peter’s hideout, TBD to be honest.
WHEN: August 22, 2029
WHO: Peter & @rjupin
It appeared that he had forgotten how to breathe. As Peter’s eyes laid themselves on Remus, he thought that he’d collapse, crumble, fall apart, limb by limb. His lungs were failing him, squeezing together until there was nothing left, until suddenly, out of nowhere --- he took a breath, deep yet shaky, his eyes no longer focused on Remus but instead on the world behind him.
“Please let me explain,” he said, eyes still failing to meet his best friend. ( Was that term still correct? Was Remus still his friend, let alone one of his best ones? Or was that history, now? Peter let all those question tumble through his mind and felt his lungs collapse once again. ) “I ---- listen, Re, I haven’t done the shit they’re all saying I did yet, right? I did some shit, and I want to explain, just ... just let me explain, yeah?”
He looked back at Remus, his eyes pleading. Peter felt small, smaller than a rat --- like a dirty bug on a wall, observing, only looking in. Like a pest. He was prepared for anything, but hoped for the best. ( Always relying on the goodness of your friends to save the day, aren’t you? Hoping that they’ll save you, that they’ll still your inner demons, that they will love you, unlike yourself? How foolish. ) “I can explain.”
@betratyal
( setting: a small bakery in muggle london.
date: september 5, 2029 ).
she’s in her element. a chewed up pencil rests comfortably between her fingers, a slight smile plays on her lips, and her hand is placed under her chin. reassurance and understanding radiates off her, a ploy at making her subject feel at ease. as if they aren’t a cat and a mouse, right now. as if she isn’t trying to wreck his life, one lie at a time. “ so, peter, “ she says. her voice is warm, like honey, the one she reserves for when she really, really wants something. rita is like a blood hound, and around peter pettigrew, she can smell something newsworthy ( which she finds…. odd, given that he is peter pettigrew, after all ) —- and besides, she has spied enough on the people around him for the past couple of days to know that something is going on. “ have some tea, will you? you look like you could use something to take the edge off. “ at that, she breaks into a crooked grin, her eyes crinkling. she’s poking, prodding. trying to find a way in. “ how are you doing, pete? you settled in yet? in the future? this brave new world… “
Let’s get one thing straight: Peter Pettigrew does NOT trust Rita Skeeter. But he’s desperate, and he’s hoping that she’ll treat him on his cup of tea and a muffin at least ( and if she doesn’t, he’ll leave her with the bill anyway --- it’s not like his reputation can get any worse ) and maybe tell his side of the story. It’s also just an opportunity to get out of the house. “Tea doesn’t take the edge of, you know,” he says. Still he pulls his cuppa closer, only to quickly pour some whiskey in it from a flask he nicked off some pureblood. If he has to deal with Rita Skeeter, he’s not doing it sober. He watches her for a moment. Maybe this is a mistake. Scratch that --- this is definitely a mistake. But Peter’s always been good at changing topics, at rambling endlessly and keeping the raw truths inside him well hidden. “Right, yeah. Getting used to all the new media, for one. Have you seen the new Star Wars? I had six new movies to catch up, it’s been madness. The prequels are quite shit, and then the most recent ones ... well, the special effects are really sick, at least. Or lit, as they say nowadays.”
She wanted to yell, tell him she cared about him and what he was going through, that he was one of her best friends, but she held herself back from doing so. She couldn’t. Part of her didn’t trust him.. Oh, how she hated this feeling of doubt, but she couldn’t help it. Knowing now what he was going to do in the future made her see him in a new light. Re-examine everything she thought she knew about him. Caught between loyalty for an old friend and loyalty to her own morals, she didn’t know what to do. It wasn’t an easy situation to be in. Greta ran her hands through her hair, distress obvious in the expression on her face. Tears welled up in her eyes as he raised his voice, she didn’t want to think about him or anyone getting tortured by those monsters. Nobody deserved that. She was about to say something but stopped herself again, letting what he just said play again in her mind.“What do you mean as far as you remember? So you’ve already told them, back in our time? The Death Eaters? Or did it not happen yet?” There were three sides to every story, what A said, what B said and the truth of what actually happened. The truth was what she was craving, she needed to know the facts from an unbiased source, but in something like this an unbiased source didn’t exist. It couldn’t. “Don’t say that you wish you were dead. You don’t mean that.” Seeing him talk like that hurt her, she didn’t want to see him dead. If he hadn’t said anything yet in their time, maybe this could still be fixed. Peter realising he made a mistake could change things. Or at least she hoped that it could.
“I’m not saying that you wanted them to die, but your actions are in direct connection with what happened to them and you know that. I’m not trying to make you feel guiltier than you already are at the moment. You’re smart, you knew what would happen if you let him know where James and Lily were. Don’t try to say that you didn’t figure out what he was going to do with that information.” She couldn’t claim that she would be able to understand why he did what he did, even with the motives he had. “Everyone makes mistakes. We’re human. But how we deal with them is what defines us. From everything I’ve heard, you didn’t warn them. You told You Know Who their whereabouts and you didn’t say anything to them. Didn’t tip them off, nothing. You just let it happen. They didn’t have a fighting chance. And then you let Sirius go to Azkaban for your actions. He spent years there while you were in hiding. I don’t know the reason you become like this in the future, but the Peter I know wouldn’t act like that.” Her father filled her in on how distraught she had felt at the time, how angry and upset she’d been when she found out about Peter’s betrayal in the papers. Apparently she had mourned his death, had gone to his grave for years, only for him to turn out to be the one at blame all along.
He felt bad, as he looked at Greta --- she didn’t deserve his anger ( and he now knew it’d not been directed at her, but at himself ), and yet he couldn’t stop it from flowing freely. He tried to swallow it down, bury it somewhere in his stomach, but he was trembling with it. How could people expect him to explain why he did what he did when he didn’t know it himself? When he had sat alone with his thoughts for almost a month, trying to understand what was wrong with him to make him do something so heinous? He forced himself to calm down, at least a little --- eyes closed for a second, lips pressed together --- before he spoke again. “Of course I’ve not given them up yet, no --- I didn’t mean it like that. I meant it like ... I -- as in, this me, the one with my memories -- I’ve been tortured and threatened, and all that shit, so who the hell knows what happened, right? I don’t --- I sure as fuck don’t, besides what people are telling me.” He was frustrated --- Peter had never been immensely articulate, and he didn’t have the energy to deal with his own social shortcomings on top of everything. At Greta’s next words, he could only scoff. “It was me or them, I know that much, and yeah, I wish it’d been me. Fucking hell, everyone does --- you do too, don’t you? I should’ve died for them, we all bleeding know it. So I fucking wish I was dead. Or had died. Or whatever the fuck.”
He buried his teeth in his lip for a moment. “I know what I did, Greta, I fucking know. I know that I’m responsible for their death, but it wasn’t me, yeah? Don’t you get that? I can’t fucking tell you what I was thinking or why I did what I did or why I chose to save my own skin over my friends, I wish I fucking could, because maybe then I could make sure I don’t end up doing something that shitty again.” Peter felt defeat, now. His anger wasn’t gone ( and he was sure that it wouldn’t leave, not for days and weeks and months ). Head buried in hands, he let Greta’s words echo through his mind. “What I did, or what I end up doing ... it’s --- I can’t begin to fucking understand it. I --- I know I’m not a good person, I know that. I’ve done really shitty things, but something that heinous?” He shook his head. “I don’t fucking get it and it terrifies me, you know that? Because even if I don’t get it, I did do it. In a way. It’s so fucked.” Peter looked up at Greta. “I don’t want to be that person. Fuck, I don’t even want to be this person, and I’m ... I’m trying to fix this, Greta, I am, I just don’t know how yet.”
Greta crossed her arms, only considering to listen to him because of how long they were friends. Almost nine years. Nearly a decade. Were they still friends now? She didn’t think so. If she couldn’t trust him how could she be his friend? Were they ever friends? In a million years she wouldn’t have thought that Peter, sweet sweet Peter, was capable of such heinous things. But he was. He’d betrayed his best friends, was the cause that their child grew up without their parents. Knowing what it was like to grow up without her mother, her heart ached for Harry. Without her father around she doesn’t know how she would have turned out. He made her into the person she was today, he was always here for her, whenever she needed him, even when she didn’t say it out loud. He was an old man now, shocked and confused when he saw his daughter as a 20 year old, for a moment thinking he was imagining his wife standing there, her appearance so similar to his daughter’s. Greta couldn’t imagine what her life would’ve been like without any parent. But this was what Peter did. He took away Harry’s parents to save his own skin. He ratted out his best friend. How was she supposed to believe anything he said now?
Greta scoffed, shaking her head. “What is there to explain? Something like that doesn’t happen overnight. I know what they said. You weren’t tortured, they didn’t threaten you. You went to that monster and ratted out your best friend to save your own skin. Just because you haven’t done it yet doesn’t mean you haven’t told them anything else. Even if I asked you now, how am I supposed to trust what you say? You’re the reason Harry was orphaned. A sweet little baby. How could you do that?” She knows he hadn’t technically done it yet, but the future version of him did. When did he do it, in their timeline? A few days from now? Weeks? She couldn’t know. “Sorry doesn’t fix what you did. It’s not even me you should be apologising to. God, I don’t even know if anything you say could make them forgive you. I couldn’t if I was Lily and James. I didn’t think you were capable of something like that, but I obviously don’t know you as well as I thought…”
Peter listened to Greta and he wasn’t sure how he wished to respond, but he knew that this burning anger he felt at the pit of his stomach wasn’t it. And yet, there it was, overwhelming and sickening --- a sort of outrage. He wanted to yell at her, to let this fire loose, to scream that he didn’t fucking do it yet, so save your anger. As if he wasn’t disgusted with himself! As if he didn’t hate the things his future self did! Peter wasn’t unfamiliar to self hate --- it had always flowed through his veins alongside his blood, had always made his mind a treacherous thing, and now it had grown so much that it felt like he had no blood left: just venomous self hate.
And yet, he felt like he didn’t deserve this. Still, he was angry at Greta. ( Or maybe not at her, maybe just at himself, or Voldemort, or the entire fucking world for spinning the way it did. )
“I wasn’t tortured? I wasn’t threatened? Who the fuck have you been talking to, to know what I went through, Greta? To other Death Eaters? You think that You Know Who handed me a cuppa and a biscuit and that we all sipped tea together and had a little chat about the Order, and that I just let shit slip? That it was one big fucking tea party? Jesus Christ, no --- for as far as I remember, I was threatened, I was fucking tortured --- but that’s besides the point, innit? Those are just fucking details, who cares about what the fuck Peter’s gone through.” He was close to shouting, his body vibrating with anger and powerlessness. “How the fuck do you think I feel? Don’t you think that I wish that I was dead? That I’d died? I never meant to hurt anyone, I never --- I just wanted to be safe, and I miscalculated my options, and I made a big fucking mistake, and apparently it then all went off the rails, and I can’t tell you why or how, because I --- I would never want to hurt Harry, I would never want James or Lily to die. Why would I want that? They’re my family. I know I fucked up, but I didn’t fucking do that.”
How dare he speak her name. As if he were worthy of the sound. As if he deserved to stand close enough that she might hear. As if he deserved the right to even speak at all. Peter Pettigrew was a coward, first and foremost, and it came as a shock to Lily that he might have the backbone enough to be near her. Every muscle in her body was on edge, tensed and itching to pounce, her lion instincts taking control of any kindness she might’ve possessed. Oh, Peter Pettigrew. Vermin scum.
It had not been so long since Lily had been willing to hear the story of Peter and his closest friends. For a while, all she had known was he had betrayed her, he’d betrayed the love of her life, and that had been enough. But the whole story - now that was much, much worse. Peter had not just betrayed Lily and James - he had tried to have their son killed. Little Harry Potter, her own baby boy, the exact little boy that her heart had ached for ever since they’d been thrust into this mess. She cried every morning for she was not with him, and Peter in his actions would soon solidify that she never saw him again - he would kill her before she’d even had two years with her son.
And now he was here, cussing as if his pain were equal to hers. What a cowardly little fuck. It was in times like this, when her emotions were so strong and her heart beat rapidly with a wave of unparalleled anger, that she was reminded of how truly muggle she was. When her eyes settled on the scum before her, when he muttered his second word, it was not for her wand that she reached. Instead her fists curled, her ears rang and pulsed and her eyes flashed red and in an instant her knuckles had collided with his cheek, a punch thrown in such a muggle fashion that she hoped the force would knock him out. “How dare you speak to me!” She shrieked, now unable to contain her trembling fury, the lion in her going for the kill. “You awful little RAT.” Her fists uncurled and she leaned forward, this time to place her hands on his shoulders and shove him back into the small crowd that had now gathered to watch them. If any of them tried to interfere, she would kill them. “You need to stay far away from me, Peter Pettigrew - far away from everyone. Lest you try to have my son murdered again.” She couldn’t see straight. She couldn’t even hear anything above the ringing in her ears. When she stepped forward to spit at Peter’s feet, she wasn’t even sure if she has mustered up enough saliva to warrant a ‘spit’. All she could feel, see, hear was her burning hatred for the dastard that dared to stand before her.
You deserve this. You deserve this. Peter forced those words to echo through his mind as Lily’s fist connected with his face, when she shoved him back, when she yelled and spit at him. Part of him believed him --- part of him thought that he deserved all this and more. Part of him thought he deserved to die, that he should just leave the earth and leave it better. ( But he knew by now, that his survival instincts always won, for better or worse. Mostly worse. ) He wanted to yell at Lily to hit him again and again, to punch and kick him until there was nothing left to do --- he wanted her to pour all her hate and rage out, and make some room for the love she’d once felt for him, that she maybe still felt for him. He wanted to suffer.
Another part of him did not believe that he deserve this, though. A selfish part. The part that one day, apparently, gained the upper hand --- the part that believed that his life was too short and young to waste, the part that had valued his own short and worthless life above that of his friends, of that of his friends’ son. ( Peter didn’t understand that part of himself, but it was there, in a corner of his being, whether he liked it or not --- he felt the darkness of it pull at him. ) That part of him wanted to fight Lily back, wanted to yell at her that this was unfair, that she couldn’t blame him for something he had not yet done, that she had to understand that he had done the things he had already done out of crippling fear, not because he didn’t love her or their friends, that she was being rash and blind and cruel and that he had done what seemed best, and fuck, maybe he’d been wrong --- but how could you know what was right when everyone around you was fucking dying? That part of him wanted to beg for forgiveness, not only because he wanted it, but because he felt he deserved it. That part of him had no shame left to feel --- it just wanted acceptance and security and the promise that he wouldn’t die tonight. That part of him felt like he hadn’t done anything wrong. Not yet, at least.
He was stuck, frozen. Peter felt Lily’s fist on his cheek still and he looked at her now, meeting her eyes. What was he supposed to say, now? Nothing, right --- that’s what she wanted, and yet --- his mouth was opening, and he looked with pleading eyes. ( Pathetic, pathetic, pathetic --- you should just leave, there’s no use in trying to fix something that’s this broken, why should she forgive you when you’ve never been able to forgive yourself? ) “I didn’t do it yet.” His voice was close to a whisper. Or was it a whimper? Either way, he swallowed, tried to think of Lily and Lily alone, and not all these people around them, tried not to give in to his ever powerful instinct of running away. “That --- that person who did that, that’s not me. Don’t you get that? I --- I would never hurt Harry, I don’t want to. I don’t want to be that person. Please Lily, please just listen to me.” Peter thought for a moment, trying to think about what words would impact Lily most, how he could make her see, how he could convince her. He knew he wouldn’t today, but maybe he could get her to think --- right? Maybe he could make her see? Make her want to listen? “Please,” he pleaded. He considered going down on his knees, begging her --- maybe he should cry. Merlin, he did want to cry. His voice trembled already, his throat thick with tears of fear and anger and disgust. “I don’t want to be that person --- please, I can change.”
Attending Hogwarts without having known anyone there before was lonely. She met Peter in the Kitchens a few months into first year and they became fast friends after that. He kept her company when she stress baked and was always happy to eat whatever she made. They listened to each others problems and helped each other out when they could. Whenever she had questions about the Wizarding world he answered them, not judging her or making her feel embarrassed because she didn’t know. He became a confidant and one of her closet friends over the years. Hearing he made it here too brought great comfort to her. Until she found out about what he did. Greta didn’t want to believe it at first, being sure that the person telling her this was lying, but after doing her own research she realised they were being honest with her. Peter betrayed his best friends. He was the reason for their deaths. How could she even look at him right now? She took a step back when he approached her, shaking her head.
“Don’t you dare come any closer. I don’t want to see you.”
A naive, foolish part of him had hoped that maybe Greta would understand. That she’d see that he hadn’t done it yet, that maybe he -- this version of himself -- had already fucked up, but not as royally as the Peter people kept speaking about. That she could forgive him. But forgiveness wasn’t easy, and part of him knew that ( he remembered fifth year, and never forgiving Sirius for what he’d done to Remus, and that was nothing compared to all the things he’d somehow end up doing ), but another part of him could not stop hoping. This was Greta, with whom friendship had always come easy --- easier than with anyone else, if he was honest, because it had started so naturally, and there had never been expectations or seeds of doubt when it came to him and her. Until time had clashed and his secrets had been laid bare and all his friends had fallen away.
He didn’t blame them. He froze for a moment when he heard Greta’s words, took a step back. Swallowed. Considered turning on his heel and walking away, but how would that fix anything?
“I --- I get that, Greta, but let me explain, yeah? Just ... that that wasn’t me, who did all that, you know that right? I don’t know who did that, but it wasn’t me, I haven’t done what they said, that was someone else --- another me. I don’t fucking want to do that. I’m sorry, I’m -----” He inhaled, swallowed all the other words he was going to say. His eyes were shifty, hands trembling, voice shaky. “I’m sorry.”
“Well, I suppose cat is out of the bag now. Or rat in this case I suppose. Not sure how we are going to fix this little situation.” He sighed, shaking his hair. “Don’t worry. I will make sure they don’t rip you apart. After all, you got the job done, didn’t you?” As a former Hufflepuff, Evan appreciated loyalty. At least when it was directed towards him.
“Tell me about it,” he said, voice somewhat of a murmur. Peter wanted to get away as soon as possible, but didn’t want to make that all too obvious. No need to raise any suspicions, no need to have Evan Rosier think that he had a reason to be skittish around him. “Cheers, appreciate that. It’s been a bit hard, to get out and about, with so many people ... wanting to rip me apart. And yeah, yeah, I guess I did, didn’t I?” A pause. “Was sorry to hear about how you end up. Must be fuckin’ strange, learning that.” Not as strange as what Peter learned about his future, surely, but still --- he’d rather talk about Evan Rosier’s tragic death than the blood on his future hands.
“I got into a bit of an altercation; apparently, I am not quite popular here. Who would have thought?”
Peter looked at Evan for a moment, unsure if he’d been addressed --- he was trying to blend into the background, with his hood up and shoulders high and head bowed, not trying to mingle in conversation with former colleague Death Eaters, and yet: here he was. “Yeah, me neither. Kind of makes sense, I suppose.”
WHERE: TBD
WHEN: August 22, 2029
WHO: Peter & @liilyjane
Peter had to admit that he had always been a little bit scared of Lily Evans ( now Potter ). Blazing eyes, blazing hair, blazing spirit --- he had always looked at her with both immense admiration and a healthy amount of not-wanting-to-step-on-her-toes-too-much. Somehow, though, that combination and a whole lot of luck and coincidence had led to the two of them to be friends, and while through that kinship Peter had always reserved a healthy bit of fear towards Lily ( he’d seen her punch someone before, after all ), that fear had been outweighed by a lot of good.
That was, up until a few weeks ago, when Lily’s future fate and Peter’s role in it, had suddenly become common knowledge.
And since then, Peter had not just been a little bit scared of Lily --- he’d been terrified. And as he looked at her, he froze. He wanted to say something, but it was harder to speak to her than it had been to speak to Marlene or Remus, because they hadn’t died because of something he had done. ( Or, well, hadn’t yet done, but one day would do --- but then, he wasn’t planning on doing it any more, now that he knew. It was confusing. )
“Lily ---,” he began, but he felt sickened even speaking her name. Peter noticed how his fingers were curling around his wand, and he realised that part of him wanted to apparate away from this situation. Maybe he should give up this course of self-improvement and just accept that everyone was better off without him and disappear into obscurity, maybe that would just be better. He considered his options for a moment, staring at Lily’s hair ( and not those damned green eyes ) and swallowed. He would not run. Not yet, at least. “Fuck.”
WHERE: The place Marlene dwells
WHEN: August 20, 2029
WHO: Peter & @mcrlenes
He wished his hoodie gave him more coverage. Peter tugged at the strings of his hood, receding into the darkness of it, hesitating, hesitating, hesitating. He should turn around --- he should try and find someone who could arrange a portkey for him and leave, like he should have years ago. He should run. ( But that would be the cowardly thing, and wasn’t he trying to be better? Braver? )
Peter swallowed, tongue and teeth dry, eyes shifting around him. He either had to knock now or go --- he closed his eyes, pretended he was back at Hogwarts, about to do something incredibly stupid. The trick is to not think at all, he’d once said, and then do it. Head clear, heart hammering, fist raised --- and then a rap on the wood, Peter’s knock a melody he knew Marlene would recognise.
It had taken a while to figure out where she was, but not too long. Peter had grown quite good at sneaking around in his marauders days, and now with his new role as spy, his skills had developed into something greater. Something destructive, apparently. He waited for what seemed years -- though it could have just been seconds -- and when the door opened, he didn’t wait before speaking ----- “I need your help.”
the first clear thought in years:
I REFUSE TO DIE.
JACOB BATALON? No, that’s actually PETER PETTIGREW from the MARAUDERS ERA. You know, the child of AMBROSIA PETTIGREW and ALISTER MCALISTER? Only 20 years old, this GRYFFINDOR alumni works as a DISH WASHER and is sided with HIMSELF. HE/THEY identifies as AGENDER and is a HALFBLOOD who is known to be CUNNING, HUMOROUS and ALLOCENTRIC but also OBSESSIVE, PASSIVE and COWARDLY.
LINKS – pinboard, stats, app.
CHARACTER PARALLELS – winston bishop ( new girl ), sid jenkins ( skins ), charles boyle ( b99 ), edmund pevensie ( narnia ), eric forman ( that 70s show ), bunny corcoran ( the secret history )
AESTHETIC – ketchup stains on band shirts, an incomprehensible minute long string of curses, tracing the veins in your wrist, the smell of breakfast and fresh coffee, card tricks at three in the morning, freddie mercury impersonations, lying on the floor of the kitchen staring a the ceiling for three hours, trembling hands holding a joint, a guilty grin.
HEADS UP – this intro contains mentions of bullying, death, mental illness (eating disorders (bed & bulimia) and depression and anxiety), self destructive tendencies and weed. ive trigger warned each bullet point where it comes up.
history ( 1960 - 1978 )
peter was born to ambrosia pettigrew, a halfblooded scottish-filipino witch. his father -- a muggle -- was not in the picture and hadn’t been ever since he’d learned of ambrosia’s pregnancy; he would sent her money every now and then, in the first years of peter’s life, but was never in the picture. ( and that was for the best, thought ambrosia; she didn’t love him, and he was a muggle, but still --- she was heartbroken and wished that she could give more to her son ).
peter grew up living with his mother in a small flat in glasgow. his grandparents lived nearby, and he spent a lot of time with them. peter learned how to be alone from a young age, with his mother working a lot and he himself lacking friends and peers to waste the days with --- as a child, he delved into fictional worlds ( superhero comics, roald dahl novels, animated tv shows ) and found friends there.
bullying tw / went to muggle elementary as well, but never felt at home there. he was the odd one out: his clothes didn’t fit well, his nervous habits were annoying to his classmates, his words were too clumsy and his eyes too shifty. he didn’t mind not having friends ( or so he thought, until he did have them ) but he did mind being picked on and teased. end of tw
death tw / his grandmother died when he was seven and it was devastating; peter’s family was so small and compact, his social world so limited, that it had a huge impact. his relationship with his grandfather did grow much stronger through it. end of tw
and then peter finally went to hogwarts! and peter made friends for the FIRST TIME. and he found a second home! ah, my god --- peter was so happy, he was really so hyped and in awe of his life and his friends. it all felt a bit surreal; especially because he looked up to james and sirius and remus so much --- james, mainly, but all of them were so amazing, and he was so amazed that they liked him, too.
peter always loved heroes. he loves comic books and people who save the day and get the girl and do it all. i think he kind of … projected that onto james and sirius especially? did not know how to do this friendship thing as an 11 year old tbh, was a mess, was blinded by their amazingness damn, and thus kind of hero worshipped them, didn’t see their flaws and faults.
re: peter being a gryffindor; peter admires heroism and bravery and chivalry, and it’s your values that get you sorted some place. and he always did try to be brave, and he WAS in a lot of moments, because he became a damn animagus for his bud! i mean! he was not a hatstall btw — i choose to ignore that stupid bit of post canon. it took a while for the hat, sure, but no more than two minutes.
peter was a pretty bad student, to be honest. not because he was stupid, but because he’s just not build for school. deadlines? exams? homework? no thank you --- those were both sources of stress and horribly tedious things and peter was much too occupied with shenanigans and having fun. peter learned better in different settings: he got very good at certain charms because they allowed him to be lazy ( hello, accio! ) and was able to put his mind to becoming an animagus because there was a necessity and a proper motivation, and became better at potions because of all the hangover potions he brew.
becoming an animagus for remus was ! important ! to peter ! he did it for remus, not because of peer pressure, or anything else — he did it because it was right, and his friend deserved it and ! he did it, too, because he could. sure, his transfig grades may have been more than poor, but the kid did have some skill. he just needed motivation, which mcgonagall didn’t give (bc. she scared him.) and this situation? motivated the hell out of him.
peter would be lying if he said he wasn’t taken a bit aback when he learned about remus’ lycanthropy — not because he was scared of him, to be honest, but he was just ? shocked ? he was more scared for remus, and so sad? so fucking sad for him? : ( he cried
he also loved spending his time at hogwarts playing games; from muggle card games to chess to gobstones. collected chocolate frogs Very Seriously as well, and still does tbh.
weed & anxiety tw / peter started smoking pot in the summer between his fourth and fifth year, and never really stopped. it made him slack more at school, but also eased his anxiety, which had started to develop in his fourth year. as months passed, peter became more and more of a stoner, which made him both more relaxed and funnier, but also … a whole of a lot lazier. end of weed tw
peter had always been a bit … fidgety, easily on edge, a bit nervous, but he’d never really known anxiety until around fourteen years old. his insecurities grew, as he started comparing himself more to his friends and finding nothing but things he lacked in comparison to them, and questions as to why they put up with him. end of anxiety tw
so his schooldays mostly looked like … doing nothing, playing games, having fun with his mates, getting high, forgetting his homework, stressing about homework, and somewhere, in a tiny corner of his being, worrying about the war. whenever those worries started coming up, though, he was able to push them away, because the war was not yet there, not for him at least. there was graduation to worry about first, and once that was done, then he could worry about the war.
post graduation - now ( 1978 - 1980 )
peter joins the order along with his friends, because it was what was right. peter believes in their cause, hates the death eaters, hates discrimination and racism and terrorism --- of course he fucking does, and so he joins, even though he feels incompetent. i have written a lot about this in his app too, which is linked above!
he starts working as a dishwasher in muggle glasgow, preferring a bit of a break from the wizarding world every now and then. peter’s not unambitious, per se, but he doesn’t have enough faith in himself to try and pursue a career ( and besides, what’s the point in the midst of a war? ). plus, peter doesnt need any more stress on his plate, and dish washing is laidback and at least kind of fun.
depression & weed & eating disorder (bed/bulimia) tw | peter feels useless in the order, though. he seems to lack the skills, the guts, the everything that the people around him have. before, their heroics mightve inspired him; now they just make him feel like a shitty person, like a burden. peter starts secluding himself a little, hiding in his mother’s home. he smokes more pot. he sometimes goes almost week without seeing someone besides his mum and his coworkers. he watches too much telly and reads comics and drowns in fictional worlds and he becomes depressed. he sinks into it without noticing and can’t come back from it. his eating habits ( which have always bordered on unhealthy ) turn worse; peter binges, and then restricts, falls into a cycle. it’s the only routine he has.
when he’s around his friends, he lives up a little. he cracks jokes and wants to play games and laughs and feels a bit more alive, but he always craves his time on his own. that’s his new way to feel safe: to stick to his newly found routine, hidden in his room, away from reality. | end of tw
the idea to join the death eaters comes out of fear. peter feels like the order is losing, and feels like death is inevitable. i dont know how true this is, but the fact is that the death eaters are ruthless and that his life is on the line because of his position. i wrote a Lot about this in his app too, so if u want a more comprehensive explanation i’d def read it here, its the second hc!
he joins, because he thinks it will give him a saver position. play both sides, play for the winning side --- he’s always had a bit of an opportunistic streak, which definitely helps sway his decision. in the end he’s just afraid of dying, and that’s why he joins; he’s twenty, his life has hardly started --- he doesn’t want to die, no cause is worth that, none at all. ( he should have just ran )
he joins in may 1978, for timeline reasons, so he’s been a death eater for only a few months. it’s been a lot different than he imagined ----- peter thought he’d blend in the background quietly, that he’d have to do shitty jobs ( which is true ) and that he’d be left alone. he underestimated it, because well --- he was desperate when he joined, and he didn’t think about the consequences, and he didn’t think about how voldemort’s cruelty wasn’t just reserved for his enemies but for his followers, too. there’s no stepping out of line with the death eaters; mistakes are not treated lightly and peter --- afraid, a bit of a bumbling idiot, learns this quite soon.
his function is mostly just to be a spy; relay information and share plans, name members, etcetera. he’s not very active because he’s a spy, but i imagine that he is present at the bigger meetings. AND FML HE’S GOOD AT IT! he’s good at lying and sneaking and being a sly bastard --- he used those skills for pranks, once. now he uses it to betray his fellow prankers : D
peter, at that point, hates himself. he’s always had a bit of self loathing, but it’s gained the upper hand now and he’s drowning in it; it does allow for him to ignore his conscience, though, for him to ignore the reality and just stew in his negativity. he’s got a woe is me mentality, for sure, and he’s so god damn passive about his situation.
timeclash reaction.
peter’s reaction to the timeclash was ... a lot. i wrote about it in his app, so if u want to read my whole ass rambling, i rec that. but tldr: he’s shocked, at what he becomes. the peter he is now is a traitor, yes, but he’s not yet the person who ends up betraying james and lily and harry, who frames sirius --- and it’s ground shattering to find out that he’s on the road to become such a person.
self destructiveness, weed, alcohol tw / his self loathing grows more. peter wasn’t doing very well before, but the timeclash makes something snap inside him --- he abandons his needs, punishes himself in small ways, loses sight of himself. he drinks and smokes too much. he’s so scared of himself. he’s in hiding, when he first finds out, scared of his friends and the death eaters and the order members and the people from the future who have met a worse version of him end of tws
part of peter is also like “i havent done any of these things yet, i know i am not the BEST person but i am still . not That Bad! stop being mad for something i havent done yet!”
around this time, he’s realising that he can either keep hiding, that he can completely destroy himself and all the ties he has, or he can take this opportunity to change his course. to not become the person all these people from the future know, to change change change, to make up for the wrongs he has committed and the wrongs he will commit if he keeps on going the way he is --- and that’s where he’s at now.
on another hand, he definitely watched all the star wars movies that came out over the past 50 yrs and hates kylo ren and cried when han died!!! he is in awe of the mcu movies but also thinks they did the comics dirty. i wish someone would introduce him to video games bc he would cry from happiness.
personality & details
OKAY onto the fun stuff, that was way too depressing and peter is usually a comedic icon
peter parker is his favourite superhero just because … they share a first name and because peter parker is a bit of an underdog too and peter is just like! amazing! he named his owl parker.
he hates cats. used to love them — he was allowed to take the cat from home with him to hogwarts when he was eleven, but he brought him back home after an unfortunate incident where his cat nearly ate him while he was in his animagus form. “sorry ma, i don’t love him any more. here. have him.”
peter is actually a solid cook. this is because he learned to make some basic food when he was still a kid, first with his grandma, and later on his own. he liked doing it for his mother and he was. .. good at it? peter is also just passionate about food and finds comfort in cooking. breakfast food and baked goods are Prime Food Categories.
he is asexual af, panromantic. has kissed both guys and gals and nb pals but did not like it??? confused. does not understand sexuality and all that jazz but tries not to think abt it because like! he’s got enough stress! doesnt need to think abt this!
peter is also agender, but i think he’s a lot less aware about this, because it’s confusing and so he just tries not to think about it. he does feel okay with he/him pronouns, but just doesn’t feel connected at all to being a boy/man
peter has abandonment issues because his dad, well, never even bothered to be there. not even for a second. he’s just constantly scared that people will leave and it’s funny, because he will probably end up abandoning all of his loved ones KDJFHSDF.
peter is quite non confrontational but also not … meek? he just avoids it, either by physically staying out of people’s way or by dismissing most of the things said and getting out of there. a Passive Kid.
he’s such a fucking dork i swear to god. but he’s funny! peter is really funny. i deeply believe in this. he makes great puns and is able to just come out of nowhere and make a comment that just. hits the nail right on its head.
peter curses a lot and has a scottish accent and sometimes he will have a minute long cursing session that no one rly understands.
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