Harry Potter 1. Prologue 1: The Destroyer

The Destroyer

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Disclaimer: I own nothing. Harry Potter, and all of the characters belong to J. K. Rowlings and some book 

companies.

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A/N: This is my first HP fic, and, as a matter of fact, the first fic I've ever finished. However, _Don't_ hold back on the flames. The more reviews, the more people who have read the fic.

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I am become Death, the Destroyer of worlds

Dr. J Robert Oppenheimer, one of the creators of the Atomic Bomb

Quoted from the Bhagavad-Gita

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I am become Death…

The man smiled grimly, blood dripping off of his arm into a small chalice.

**__**

"Lily and James, Sirius, how could you?"

I am become Death…

Burning herbs, their stench flowing through the air, as a hand reaches in without any apparent pain.

**__**

The blast rippled through the air as twelve Muggles were swiftly extinguished. A lone finger in the street…

I am become Death…

A vortex of energy, connecting the man's life force directly to the power swirling around his fingertips.

**__**

"You don't understand! He would have killed me, Sirius!"

"THEN YOU SHOULD HAVE DIED! DIED RATHER THAN BETRAY YOUR FRIENDS, AS WE WOULD HAVE DONE FOR YOU!"

I am become Death…

The man smiled again, his thoughts rooted in the last words to him of his once-closest friends. His hand was raised, and he cried out, with all of his strength, "_Avada Kedavra Hostis Totalus!" _The power which had gathered around his hands flowed into the air with a green flash. All over the world, a cry rose as thousands of Death Eaters died. Lord Voldemort himself crashed to his knees, then fell, no longer living. Peter Pettigrew also fell, his life force drained to push the spell over the entire planet.

**__**

Lily and James Potter, dead…

I am become Death…

I am become Death…

I am become Death, the Destroyer of worlds.

A/N2: I had an idea for a story centered on Wormtail, and I'm thinking about using this as a prologue. Review, and tell me what you think of the idea!


	2. Gryffindor

Gryffindor

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Disclaimer: I own nothing. Harry Potter and all of the characters belong to J. K. Rowlings and some book companies.

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A/N: What I am about to say will probably shock you. Peter Pettigrew is one of my favorite characters. His reaction to possible torture and death is so much more realistic than most of the other characters (don't even try to tell me you wouldn't do the same thing in his place).

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Italics for thoughts.

"GRYFFINDOR!"

The kid put down the ragged old hat that had rested on his head, and began moving slowly toward a table covered in gold and burgundy. His movements were slow and deliberate, and his rolling walk could almost be called a waddle. The limp, stringy hair on his head could technically be called blond, but had a certain quality that left people unsure. Individually any of his features, from his light blue eyes to his slightly rounded shape, could have been distinctive. Together, they created a person who you would not recognize five seconds after talking to him. 

There was little cheering at the table, almost as if nobody realized that he had been sorted at all. In fact, there were only three people at the table who even seemed to notice him. He looked back and forth, noticing first the grinning boy who was holding a dungbomb behind his back, then the serious-looking kid with a haunted look in his eyes; he also noted a girl with long red hair, and a stern look on her face. _Teachers pet,_ his mind noted. 

The kid finally reached the table, and he sat by the boy with the dungbomb. _He looks a cheerful sort._ He watched as the boy swiftly snuck the dungbomb beneath the redhead's chair, then…

"Oi, Sirius!"

The kid looked up, as did the boy, obviously Sirius. The kid realized that somebody had been sorted, and watched as the new Gryffindor walked confidently toward the table.

He was skinny, and short, and his hair had a messy look that made you want to laugh; however, a glance at his sapphire eyes would stop the mockery. It was almost as if the very air around him crackled with energy, and instantly you felt as though you were in the presence of a greatly superior life form, something beyond human comprehension. This sense was offset by the easy grin that had spread across his face. "Sirius, come on, not five minutes and you're already messing with the other students. I pity our professors." 

"Right, like you wouldn't have done the same thing in my position…" Sirius grinned wickedly. "Oh, right… this is Evans we're talking about. You wouldn't do anything to harm _Lily dearest_ would you, James?"

James spluttered. "W-what? You're deluded! I just met her on the train and thought she seemed interesting!" Ignoring Sirius's continued smirk, he turned to the boy with the serious look on his face. "Hi, I'm James Potter, and this idiot is Sirius Black."

The boy looked up and smiled politely. "I'm Remus Lupin. Pleased to meet you." 

The short kid gathered his courage. "H-hi, I'm Peter Pettigrew."

The other three looked at him, smiled, and introduced themselves, then went on with their conversation as if he wasn't there. Suddenly Remus stopped, and looked at him. "Oh, I'm sorry, that was rude of us… what was your name again? Peter? Please join the conversation, by all means."

Peter smiled at the unusually polite eleven-year-old and joined in the animated chatter, officially sealing himself as "part of the gang." After the ceremony, the four of them went, together, to the Gryffindor dorms, each silently promising loyalty to the rest of the group. 

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A/N: Yeah, I know, it was short, but that's life. I don't really like to do stuff on the first year, so that was sort of a second Prologue.

To all who reviewed: Thanks! I live off of your words. They keep me alive. GIVE ME MORE!!! 

Thanks,

StupidX


	3. Journal: Day 1

Disclaimer: This is hereby disclaimed. Is not belong me.

A/N: Yes, I know, _far_ to long since last update... typical of me though... well, the next chapter is already written. It, at least, will not be more than a year in coming.

Day one

"Day one of what?" you might ask… day one of my new life. Today is the day when I begin to restore myself to humanity. It's definite. I cannot endure any longer.

I served the Lord Voldemort for a time, lived as a rat for thirteen years, and am now back in his service… but no more.

I can't live with the guilt any longer—I will fix my mistakes.

There has to be a way. I've always been good at research… Lord Voldemort will never see it coming.

To be honest, there were reasons I served him. First I was jealous of my friends. Despicable, huh? I could tell you long tales about how I was put down, cast out, looked down on… I am as vile as they come. I deserved all of it, but my friends actually condescended to be around me—and how did I repay them? With betrayal, of course. How else does a rat behave?

There was an anger involved too… see there was a girl, and…

Heh, it's an interesting story… yeah, bad stuff happened involving her, too.

That's all really beside the point though, isn't it? I _betrayed_ my _friends!_

Slime, all I am is slime. I'm worthless, stupid… I deserve to die a painful death…

Which makes me think. I did hear about something that might just help destroy Him. There is a book somewhere, a wonderful glorious book of dark curses… I really do love dark curses… anyway, this book is filled with the most powerful dark curses ever created.

There is a catch: the one who uses the curse will die. Not "might die," or "will die at some point in the future," but _"will die right then."_ Since most dark users are out for power, wealth, and lots of beautiful women (or men, depending on the dark user), it kinda defeats the purpose of using a powerful dark curse.

But this—this _magnificent_ book would be absolutely perfect for me… I just need a reason to find it. Something that could get His eyes off me for a while so that I could get my hands on its leather cover… I'm sure I'll come up with something. I always do.

First though… first I'm going to visit someone I should have visited long ago. Two people, actually.

* * *

Peter Pettigrew stood in a graveyard, alone under the moon. He held a single rose in his hand. 

A tear fell as he dropped the rose on a grave. "I'm so sorry, James. I wish I had done better… but I'm going to turn things around. Just watch and see."

He turned, sobbing now, his breath to broken for him to continue his monologue. He looked through tearful eyes at the grave of Lily Potter for a moment, then apparated away with a crack.


	4. Maria

The Marauders

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing. Harry Potter and all of the characters belong to J. K. Rowlings and some book companies.

**A/N:** Here is where the story really begins. And I do realize that this image of Peter Pettigrew will be extremely different than the one you've seen in most other fics. I like to be different.

_Italics for thoughts.

* * *

_

As the years had passed, Peter had grown closer to the other three, having a slightly different, yet distinct, relationship with each of them. James was a leader. The other three looked up to him, and accepted his decisions almost without question. Sirius was witty, charming, handsome, funny, intelligent… he was James's closest friend, and Peter very nearly worshiped the ground he walked on. Remus was their conscience, and their brain. He restrained their plans, and helped work out details. Peter… Peter was a shadow. His influence, though strong, went unnoticed by almost everybody. He was, seemingly, just a loser riding on the tail of his friends' popularity and cleverness. In fact, however, he was possessed of an almost Slytherin cleverness, and his plans were the ones they used to get Snape without being caught. He had a remarkable ability to evade notice; thus he also was the actual executor of many schemes which were credited to James or Sirius.

In the first year, he discovered Remus's lycanthropy. In the fourth year, he was the one who first had the idea to become animagi. The day after, while they were celebrating their accomplishment, Peter had an epiphany.

"You know, now that we have this done, we ought to have nicknames, something that goes with our animagus forms… for our first, I submit to you 'Moony' for Remus."

Remus nodded. "Good idea… hmm… Wormtail?"

Peter grinned.

James looked at Sirius. "What do you think? Padfoot?"

Sirius grumbled, his smile belying his irritated words. "…Sounds stupid…" He trailed off, then raised an eyebrow at James. "Prongs?"

James nodded, then spoke. "That works… but if we all have nicknames, we should have one for our little group as well. Something… dashing, and roguish."

Peter snorted. "You make us sound like pirates."

Remus, however, looked thoughtful. "Pirates? No. How about… Marauders?"

The other three looked at each other. Sirius grinned. "Sounds good."

James nodded. "Marauders it is."

* * *

Peter lay in his bed, staring at the ceiling, dark thoughts pouring through his head. Words ran through his head… _Avada Kedavra… Crucio… Imperio… _Something about those words just felt so _sweet_. As if they were the ultimate high, a narcotic to the emotions… A way to forget the people who called him 'That fat boy who follows around Sirius and James.' The worst part was the sheer _innocence_ with which they said it. If it had been meant to hurt, it would be different; but that was simply how they thought of him since no one could remember his name. He daydreamed about killing them, torturing them, making them all bleed… _That would show them, they have no fucking clue what they're doing to me. _

He reached over to his nightstand, where a small dagger rested. He grabbed it gently, feeling it's weight, then holding it to his wrist. _Hell, that would show them too… _He shook his head, knowing he didn't have the guts to do anything like that. Cursing his cowardice, he put the dagger back, then rolled over and fell into a fitful sleep.

* * *

The next day was a Hogsmeade weekend, and The Marauders were sitting in the Three Broomsticks, deep in conversation, when Peter suddenly stopped, grinned, and pulled an envelope out of his pocket.

"I just remembered, Mum sent these this morning!" And he pulled four pieces of paper out with a flourish. "Tickets to go see Cruciatus in concert!"

Remus' eyes lit up. "Ah, the greatest rock band ever."

Sirius smirked. "Yeah, they sound good… of course," He got a dreamy look in his eyes and continued. "Of course the best part is their _motorbikes_."

James chuckled at Sirius, then turned to Peter. "Say, Wormtail, when is the concert?"

Peter grinned and spoke one word, getting all their attention. "_Tonight"

* * *

_

That night, during the concert, Peter looked up at the stage, and just listened to the lyrics. On one side of him Sirius was talking to a large group of girls, promising each of them in turn at 'The Big Dog' as he seemed to have started calling himself. Stupid, really, but none of the girls seemed to care. On the other side, Remus was laying back, as if sleeping, but if you watched, he was rocking his head slightly from side to side, losing himself entirely in the sounds pouring from the stage. James had a group of girls similar to Sirius's, but he seemed to be trying to get rid of them.

Peter's attention drifted. So many people had sort of _floated_ toward the four, but nobody had even said a word to 'the fat boy who followed Sirius and James around.' He set his head back and closed his eyes for a depressed evening, but then heard a wonderful voice.

"Hey"

That voice was so beautiful… he assumed that the owner of the voice was trying to get Sirius's attention, but it persisted. He opened his eyes and looked. The owner of the voice was a girl his age… not a great beauty, despite her voice, but pretty nonetheless.

"Yeah?"

She looked at him for a second. "You look familiar… aren't you--?"

He cut her off. "Yeah, yeah, the fat boy who follows Sirius and James around. No, I won't talk to either of them for you, or Remus for that matter."

She looked affronted. "That's not what I wanted!"

"Oh?" His face showed his surprise. "Not a lot of people want to talk to me."

She started to answer, but then took a longer look at him. Over the years, he had built up from the dumpy little boy he had been, and though he was short, he was actually well muscled and not at all bad looking. He had merely picked the three most handsome guys to enter Hogwarts since Dumbledore was a student as his closest friends. Also, he had that _aura_ around him which seemed to force people to ignore him.

She smiled. "Why not? You seem okay to me…"

"I don't know, really… people just don't seem to notice me." He shrugged. "That's just the way things are."

She shook her head. "Well, now you have a friend. I'm Maria Wood. I'm in Ravenclaw."

"Peter Pettigrew, Gryffindor."

"Nice to meet you… so, you like Cruciatus?"

"Yeah… they're pretty awesome. Some of those Muggle bands are better, but try telling that to anybody at Hogwarts."

She grinned. "I know. I'm Muggle-born, so I have first hand experience… my favorite band is Queen. Nothing beats "Bohemian Rhapsody."

Peter nodded, then smiled… "I dunno, there are some American bands that—"

She cut him off. "That is _sacrilege_. What do the Yanks know about rock?"

Peter quirked an eyebrow. "One might almost consider claiming that they invented it…"

Maria shook her head adamantly. "That's just what _they_ want you to believe." She shifted her eyes around in mock-suspicion.

Peter laughed. Then he remembered something. "What did you want to talk about in the first place?"

Maria started to say something… then stopped. "You know, I honestly don't remember…" She shrugged. "Must not have been important… I'll probably remember some time later."

Peter grinned. "Yeah, we all forget things. Here, come sit with us. We don't bite…" He snickered slightly, thinking of Remus, then explained it away when Maria looked at him. "Inside joke."

The two of them continued to joke and mess around for the rest of the concert… and by the end, they had a date scheduled for the next Friday.

* * *

That night, Peter kissed his dagger before bed, then locked it away in a drawer. His thoughts were untainted by dark curses as he laid his head down, and went to sleep. 


	5. Journal :Days 5 and 7

Disclaimer: Consider this disclaimed 

A/N: A little long a wait… but not as bad as last time.

Shading in Grey—I see what you're saying… there's just such limited space for a summary, and I'd rather devote it to talking about the fic. Of course, my summary as it stands isn't that great… and teenagers _now_ might not use the term "yanks," but this is some thirty years ago. Of course, they might not've then either… I dunno.

E-tent-girl3355—Beautiful, huh? Thanks, I think that's the biggest compliment anybody's ever given any of my stories. And it's nice to see another fan of Wormtail.

Day five 

The Dark Lord has granted me permission to search out and find a book of the darkest dark curses… gods bless my skills at occlumency. He has no idea that he's going to die soon.

Of course, the search is going poorly. I have spent hours in libraries, looking for a clue of any sort… I've worked over ancient texts, read hieroglyphs, scoured legends…

But I've come to the conclusion that to find the book, I need to go to the source: the tombs. The book has been linked to ancient Egypt, which makes sense, since they were the inventors of the world's greatest curses. I've also heard rumors of a connection to Rome… possibly through the Ptolemys, the Greek rulers of Egypt during the Roman Empire. Cleopatra herself was apparently a witch… and Mark Antony may have been a wizard.

So first I'll search the tombs of the Pharaohs… they may contain some information. I'll contact the Dark Lord's followers in Africa, maybe they'll have a way into the best tombs…

* * *

Peter Pettigrew entered a bar, then looked around. A man sat at a table in the corner, wearing a cloak, with a hood over his head. The bottom edge of a pale face was barely visible.

Pettigrew moved over to him. "You have the information I need?"

"I certainly do, friend… if you have what _I _want, that is." A grimy hand reached out, opening as if to accept something. A sizeable bag of galleons later, his mouth opened again. "Right, then. Here're your maps, friend, though what you want them for I can't imagine. The locals all say that nothing bigger than a small dog could manage to get through all the traps."

Pettigrew shrugged. "That's my problem though, isn't it? I'll cross that bridge when I come to it."

He stood then ,and quickly left the bar. Outside, he apparated away with a sharp _crack_.

* * *

Day 7 

I think I may have found something! It's a stretch, but according to these maps, one of the tombs belonged to a rather powerful sorceror… his tomb will likely contain information on the whereabouts of the book.

It took many hours to translate the map thus far, and it's still not far gone… nevertheless, I'm feeling rather encouraged. This is the first real progress, if it pans out.

Just think! If I can pull this off, my revenge will be swift, and complete. I can only hope it will happen as planned.


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Harry Potter, Angst