On October 31, 1981, Lord Voldemort attacked the Potter's, set on a mission to kill Harry Potter, the baby boy who would ruin his plans and bring his downfall. Underestimating the young boy and his family, Voldemort is vanquished, never to be heard...
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October 31, 1981. 11:30 PM.
As Pettigrew made his way through the small town of Godric's Hollow, his frantic footsteps forming uneven patterns in the heavy snow, he cradled the sleeping infant in his trembling arms.
His heart ached for what he was about to do, but the mousey boy had convinced himself it had to be done. Since the war had started, Peter was always fearful of what would become of him and his friends. Only a few weeks after leaving Hogwarts, he was cornered by Lucius Malfoy, a rich pureblood, and one of Voldemort's right hands. Malfoy offered Pettigrew to be a mole in the Order, a spy for the Dark Lord, and in return they would honor him heavily. If not... Well, you get the idea.
Not wanting yet to meet his fate, Peter accepted the offer and thus began his life as a double agent. The turmoil within him was agonizing, the guilt nearly leading him to Death's door himself, but the fear for his own life outshone that of his Gryffindor courage.
He was told to keep an eye on the twins, to watch over them until Lord Voldemort was ready to enact his treacherous plan. Being so close to the Potter family was perfect, he was able to tell the Dark Lord the whereabouts without the monster even having to lift a single, bony finger.
And now, the time had finally come.
He looked down at the small beauty in his jacket clad arms, the daughter of two of his best friends. How could he do this to them? Betray them and lead their daughter to her death?
As he racked his brain with regret, his eyes raked over the young girl, taking in all of her features that would soon be lost to the unforgiving arms of death. Her rosy pink cheeks, her raven black locks, the freckles that were placed like stars upon her nose and cheeks, and as he fiddled with her small fingers, a small flash of silver caught his eye.
The charm bracelet.
As his eyes roamed over the charms, he couldn't help but notice a small silver set of mouse ears gleaming in the pale moonlight.
His charm.
Disgusted by the charm, a symbol meant to protect her, to show her his love that was now being betrayed, he carefully unhooked the first small band containing the symbols of the Marauders, hastily shoving it in his pocket. As he toyed with the other charm on her wrist, the small heart with her initials etched in, a small tear shed from his eyes and landed on the sleeping girl's face, startling her awake. When she saw Peter, her eyes lit up, and his heart wrenched at the little girl's happy reaction.
"Wormy!" The young girl exclaimed, her syllables barely making any sense, but Peter knew she was calling to him. And as her tiny palms reached up for his face all he could muster the courage to do was look away, unable to face the smiling child whom he was about to kill.
He reached the meeting point that had been sent to him earlier that night, a small bridge hidden near the forest of Godric's Hollow, the freezing river below shining with a thin sheet of ice laying overtop. The night was quiet, eerily so, as Wormtail looked to the stars dancing above, waiting for his master. A cool winter breeze sent shivers down Pettigrew's spine, and a darkness spread through his soul as he felt frozen in place, the little girl now weighing down his arms like a ton of bricks.
