The Rat's Gift |Peter Pettigrew| (Completed) #harrypotterawards2019

1

The first thing he became aware of was the stench. It was so intense that it made him sick in the stomach. As his senses gradually picked up, he realized he was lying down flat on his face. He turned to the side, resting his back on the ground and opened his eyes. It was pitch black.

He suddenly realized that he was drenched and felt completely cold. The ground beneath him was damp and the earthen smell mixed with the stench further heightened his feeling of nausea. He gingerly got on to his feet and looked around, his eyes finally having adjusted to the darkness.

As he stood up, he became aware of the pain around his neck. He ran his fingers around the front of his neck and could almost feel the bruising. He wondered what had happened to him.

As soon as he thought that, it all came back in a flash. The flight of steps, the seemingly empty cellar set alight by three what he thought were fireballs, the weight of two people as they launched themselves on to him, his mouth being covered to prevent him from alerting the others, his silver hand around Harry's throat.

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

Peter Pettigrew fell on his knees, the tears flowing profusely down his cheeks. His sobs echoed inside wherever he was, but he did not care for he believed that the one thing he wanted to prevent, the one thing he had been afraid of, the one thing for which he had betrayed his friends, had finally happened.

He was dead.

He was sure he was in hell, after all, that was where all the sinners went. As soon as that thought crossed his mind, the surroundings began to lighten up. The stench miraculously disappeared and he found himself in a room of sorts. With a jolt, he realized that he was inside the Shrieking Shack. The memories of his school days rushed through his mind. Funnily enough, it wasn't the memory of a full moon that came to him.

It was another memory he had forgotten over time.

It was midnight and he was asleep on his bed, in the dorm, when suddenly he felt two people grab him. He felt his hands and legs being tied and they even stuffed a cloth in to his mouth to prevent him from screaming. Then, he was stuffed in to a sack and he felt himself floating away. After what seemed to be a lifetime, he was finally put down.

When the sack was removed, he saw the three faces of his dorm mates peering down at him.

"You complete idiots! You just had to kidnap him, didn't you? You couldn't think of anything else?" Remus looked deeply disturbed and was chiding the other two.

"Moony, calm down! It's his birthday. We had to do something to make it memorable," chirped Sirius, looking indignant.

James however, was looking slightly sheepish, and was untying his hands and legs."Umm, sorry mate! We just-Well it is your birthday and we just wanted to surprise you."

James removed the cloth from Peter's mouth as he gasped for air. He looked around to see that his friends had decorated the Shrieking Shack in what looked like a rat theme. There was huge banner dangling beside the far wall which read 'Happy Sixteenth Wormy' and chunks of cheese were hovering about, in mid air, all around the room. In the centre was a huge cake that was shaped like a triangular block of cheese and had sixteen candles on it, arranged in a manner to look like his face.

Peter felt tears spring up in his eyes. Even though he had been a part of the Marauders for the past six years, he always had a nagging feeling inside him that he was just a tag along. That the boys didn't care for him as they cared for themselves but to see them do this for him, he couldn't believe it at all. Part of him felt like it was a dream.

He looked at his friends, whose faces (even Sirius') wore slightly concerned looks, at his silence. He beamed at them.

"This is the best birthday ever!" he exclaimed.

They broke in to relieved smiles which then turned in to laughter as they began explaining in to detail their whole scheme and how funny it had been. They hugged him, wishing him a happy birthday and started to plan how to spend the rest of the day. Peter looked around at all three of them. They were his friends and no matter what happened, they would always be together. He promised himself that he would make sure of that.

And he hadn't lived up to that promise. He had betrayed them all and made their lives a whole disaster.

His thoughts were interrupted by the creaking of the door. He immediately reached inside his robes for his wand but it wasn't there. Slowly, he moved towards the door, which he knew would lead to the tunnel towards the Whomping Willow. For a moment, he hesitated. If he was indeed dead, what was he doing in the Shrieking Shack? Had he become a ghost? He pushed those thoughts aside and walked towards the door.

As he passed through it, suddenly, the surroundings changed. He seemed to be inside some kind of a pit and he was blinded by the light from above. Moreover, he was also knee deep in water and the level was increasing. He struggled frantically to find a way out of it. He turned to go back in to the Shrieking Shack but it had disappeared. Slowly it dawned on him that, he was probably going to drown to death.

He moved as fast as his legs could carry him, through the water, to the side of the pit figuring that maybe he would be able to climb up. He placed both his hands on the side of the pit and realized that his hand had been restored in the flesh.

'I am not in hell. If I had been there, then I probably would never have had my hand back,' he thought.

Unfortunately, his elation was short lived. The side walls of the pit were too slippery and he couldn't get a grip. As if on cue, the water level in the pit started to increase rapidly. Within seconds, Peter found himself underwater and he slashed and writhed to pull himself to the surface.

But however hard he tried, he just couldn't get to the surface. He could see the sunlight shining down through the water indicating that the surface was near, but the nearer he got, the farther it seemed to be.

When he felt that he no longer could hold his breath, he felt himself pulled out of the water and on to the ground. He gasped for breath and felt strangely calm as the fresh air flowed through his lungs.

"You alright, Wormtail? You look like you've been through hell!"

Upon hearing the voice, Peter felt his heart skip a beat.

He looked up to see a tall, thin man with messy black hair that stuck up at the back. He was wearing the same clothes he had died in. His face was obscured by the sunlight but Peter was sure that the hazel eyes behind the spectacles were scrutinizing him.

Peter slowly stood up but could not look at the face. The face that was so familiar to him. The face that had been haunting him every night for nearly seventeen years. The face which he had been reminded of, as a result of which, his grip had slackened around Harry's throat.

"Hey! Are you alright?" It was his voice again and Peter felt a chill down his spine.

He raised his head slowly and gazed in to James Potter's face. When their eyes met, Peter couldn't hold it any longer. His knees buckled and he cried out in regret.

He cried as he had never before.