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Chapter 20: Pettigrew Interlude.
🕑 Added 2025-01-16 08:46:57 +0000 UTCCelestial Ascendancy
Chapter 20: Pettigrew Interlude.
Little Hangleton.
Peter Pettigrew.
Before chapter 19.
I scurried into the dilapidated house where my Master stayed before his revival. Six weeks had passed since I reunited with him in Albania, but we had reached the British shores a month ago.
He had been furious at being left in such a degraded state, but I found solace in being the only servant he could rely on. Though I was threatened and tortured, I knew my life was useful to him. That assurance was enough to keep me clinging to my fragile semblance of safety.
The Riddle House in Little Hangleton had seen better days. The residents of the small community considered the house haunted and avoided it entirely. The only person who had continued to visit was the family’s old gardener, but even that loose end had been dealt with by the snake—or whatever Nagini really was.
"Those were better times," I thought with a shake of my head, feeling the start of a nervous sweat. That was before the arrival of that demon in human skin.
The memory of her haunted me and would remain etched in my mind until the day of my death. I knew I was a coward; I always had been. Even during my school years, I had latched onto a group of friends who could protect me. After graduating, I betrayed that group when it suited my best interests. And I didn’t regret it, not one bit.
It had been the wisest course of action during the war. My Master had been winning, and all my friends had chosen to oppose him like fools. They had refused to see how much more powerful he was than anyone else, including the great Albus Dumbledore. But I had seen it. That was why I made the wise decision to sell out my friends for my own survival.
But that woman… That woman terrified me in ways Master never could.
As the wise often say, "Ignorance is bliss." When I believed Voldemort to be the strongest being, I was content as his follower, feeling that his name and strength would protect me while I was in danger. But learning that the world was far larger and more terrifying than I imagined had shattered that illusion.
Discovering that gods, devils, angels, and all manner of mythical beings were real had shaken me to my core. It had threatened the fragile confidence I once had and left me feeling smaller than ever before. Knowing how insignificant one really was in the grand scheme of things was... scary. My Master was barely able to obtain a glance from some organizations in the supernatural world, and he was a legendary person in the Wizarding Community.
The woman in question claimed to be a human magician, but I had my doubts. She was stronger than Voldemort, I thought with a shiver. And not by a small margin.
Walburga of the Hexennacht, that’s how she introduced herself. A human magician, not a witch. I didn’t fully understand the distinction, but my Master appeared to, considering his widened eyes. Now that I think about it, it seemed that he already knew of their existence, though he’d had no connection with them during the war, judging by how surprised he was during that woman’s visit.
She appeared the same night Barty Crouch Jr. joined us after we had liberated him from his father’s control. Her arrival had been as sudden as it was unnerving; none of us, not even my Master, had noticed her before she showed herself. Neither Barty nor I could stop her from entering the house, and Voldemort himself could not fight her, given his current form. She had walked through our feeble attempts to block her path as though we were nothing more than toddlers. Even he was forced to hear her out after she threatened to burn Nagini alive.
It was no surprise—my Master barely had any support at this moment, and every single one of his followers was important.
It was the first time I had seen him scared. Mind you, he was weakened, but even at his prime, the feeling of danger that woman exuded would have been impossible to ignore.
Flashback start.
"I am not here to destroy you, Lord Voldemort," she said, her tone a mix of amusement and contempt. “Quite the opposite, in fact. I bring you an offer from my organization.”
Her words carried the weight of absolute confidence as if she held all the cards and knew it. I watched my Master listen, his crimson eyes narrowing, but there was no hiding the flicker of unease in them. Walburga had not come to grovel or submit; she had come to dictate terms. And the all-powerful Dark Lord could do nothing to stop her.
It opened my eyes in a way nothing else ever had. Seeing him being so careful around someone was unimaginable for the past me. It was the first time I had ever witnessed such a thing: a moment where he didn’t have the upper hand. He had been forced to listen, knowing full well that this young woman could erase us from existence without so much as a struggle.
I remembered how his voice, usually dripping with venom and force, had sounded restrained when he finally replied. “Speak your terms, then. I will consider the offer.”
“It’s simple,” she said, brushing a strand of dark hair from her face. “Due to the Ancient Pact, Hexennacht cannot bring the Wizarding World to heel to obtain what we want. We cannot be under the scrutiny of the whole world. But I…” She paused, her lips curling into a wicked smile, “proposed a different method to obtain what we desire. The Ancient Pact forces us to stay away from your pathetic community, but I thought I would give you some support to bring the Wizarding World under you. That way, we can get what we want without obtaining the ire of multiple pantheons. If the leader of the wizards decides to break the pact themselves, the pantheons won't be able to blame us.”
Voldemort’s expression remained stoic, but I could see the tension in his diminished frame. She had come uninvited and forced him to listen if he wanted to keep living. I knew, as well as anyone else, that my Master boasted of his immortality, but even with that, another death would be a significant setback for his plans. And from the way she carried herself, I doubted his immortality would offer much protection against her.
“Why me?” Voldemort asked, his voice quieter than usual.
Walburga’s smile widened, a chill creeping up my spine. “Because you are a man willing to defy even death. That makes you… interesting. I don’t know a single person brave or foolish enough to follow that crazy bastard Herpo’s teachings, and that makes you… useful. Also, your ambitions amuse me. And to be honest, the other one in a position to help us would abhor our methods.” She let out a derisive laugh before continuing. “No, I, and the other leaders of Hexennacht, believe that you are the one we need to progress with our plans.”
Silence filled the room after her words, and I couldn’t stop the unease twisting in my stomach. It was unnerving to see Master so out of his element. He was always the strongest, always in control, but not now. It showed in how he stopped to seriously consider her offer.
Walburga leaned in slightly, her eyes gleaming with a madness worse than Bellatrix’s on her worst days. “The Hexennacht can offer you knowledge beyond your imagination. We could be the allies who give you what you need to win. But I know your kind. Asking for your loyalty would be a fool’s errand. Instead, we ask for five unconditional favors, and you will have our support, knowledge, artifacts, whatever you need to bring the wizards to heel.”
“Loyalty?” Voldemort repeated, his voice sharp, his pride pricked.
“You and your fickle pride,” scoffed Walburga. “I said that it would be foolish to ask for your loyalty. Only five unconditional favors.”
Flashback end
My mind raced, returning to the moment her presence first changed everything. Barty and I had been forced to leave the room as they talked.
The Dark Lord and Walburga had spoken in hushed tones for hours, leaving Barty and me to stew in anxiousness. Master's plans shifted after her arrival, and when she returned only weeks later, it became painfully clear: Voldemort had accepted her mysterious offer.
Walburga did whatever she wanted, whenever she wanted. Her arrival always left an uncomfortable feeling gnawing at me, and it lingered long after she was gone.
I suspected she reveled in the disquiet she caused, a subtle reminder that even Voldemort’s authority held limits in her eyes. Though she had yet to demand anything in return for her “assistance,” her visits had grown alarmingly frequent recently.
“I don’t care what you want, Voldemort,” came her sharp, uncaring voice from beyond the door.
I paused mid-step, my heart pounding in curiosity and fear. Drawing closer, I strained to catch the conversation. I had been summoned by my Master, but I was feeling bad about what would happen.
“You are meddling in my plans, woman,” Voldemort hissed, his anger obvious even from where I was. Shivering, I continued to listen to their conversation.
“And I don’t care about your plans,” Walburga countered with a derisive laugh. “If not for my intervention, that fool of a headmaster would already know every detail of your pathetic schemes.”
Steeling myself, I dabbed the cold sweat from my brow with a trembling hand before cautiously pushing the door open. “My lord,” I began in a quivering voice, bowing low. “You summoned me.”
“Wormtail,” Voldemort’s voice was a venomous hiss. “It seems Barty was incapable of completing his task. He was discovered.” The Dark Lord’s red eyes burned into me as he continued. “Dumbledore, several professors, and… Iris Potter confronted him within the school.”
My breath hitched. If Barty had failed, the burden of salvaging the plan would undoubtedly fall on me.
Walburga had already made it clear she could offer no manpower, citing the ancient pact between the leaders of multiple pantheons. She had not explained the pact, but she was adamant that they could not do anything overt.
“What… What happened to Barty, my lord?” My voice trembled with barely contained panic.
Walburga’s laughter rang out, cold and mocking. “He’s ash now,” she sneered. “You should have seen his last moments, whimpering and sniveling like the worm he was.”
My knees nearly buckled. “What can I do, my lord? How can I serve you?” I stammered, desperate to prove my usefulness. It was the only reason Voldemort endured my presence. I was no fool; I understood I was expendable. Many of his followers could have been more helpful to him, but I was all he had.
“That is what we were discussing before you interrupted, Wormtail,” Voldemort’s tone dripped with disdain. “Now, remain silent until I decide your usefulness.”
“I need Iris Potter for the ritual, woman,” Voldemort spat, returning his attention to Walburga. “I don’t know why that boy piques your interest, but I will not tolerate your interference in my plans.”
Walburga’s expression turned cold in an instant. Purple flames flickered to life around her, and the weight of her power crashed over the room like a tidal wave.
My legs gave out beneath me, and I was forced to the ground, struggling to breathe. A bright purple cross materialized behind her, its ominous glow amplifying the crushing force. I pressed my face to the floor, barely able to lift my head.
Shrouded in his own magic, Voldemort stood defiant, though his labored breaths betrayed the strain of resisting her overwhelming aura.
“He’s different from the rest of your miserable lot,” Walburga said icily, her gaze piercing. “And I know the ritual you intend to perform. It requires only the blood of an enemy. That girl is not essential.”
The purple cross vanished as Walburga reined in her power, the suffocating pressure lifting. She exhaled slowly, her voice turning almost conversational as if she hadn’t been so close to killing us all. “Let’s make a deal. Place him in the tournament. I want to observe his development. There’s something unique about him,” Walburga mused, “not a Sacred Gear, but something… else. As for the girl, we can devise another way to bring her to the ritual site. Consider this my organization’s first formal request.”
Voldemort fell silent at that. He had already called for several favors from the Hexennacht, and they had delivered without question. Potions to maintain his body for longer periods, rare ingredients, even tomes of dark magic to enhance his strength. From what I knew, they had not asked for anything in return, until now.
I held my breath in nervous anticipation. Master was not one to accept such things quickly, but I couldn’t lie to myself: he was gaining more than he was giving. He was on the back foot in these negotiations.
Finally, Master exhaled. “We will do as you say, Walburga,” he conceded, then glared at her. “But I want Iris Potter to be present at the ritual location. I wish to kill her before my followers.”
Walburga grinned, a crazed look in her eyes. “I cannot wait to see him in action. I want to learn everything about him.” Then she bit her lower lip as she blinked. “It helps that he is so easy on the eyes.”
Voldemort’s glare hardened, but he sighed. “Begone, woman. I tire of your presence.”
Sticking out her tongue, Walburga left the room with a skip in her step.
I would not get used to this. Ever. How she could force my Master to listen, how her mood switched in a moment. Honestly, I already regretted searching for him. If I had not known that I would be erased if I turned traitor, I would have already done so.
Staying on my knees, I lowered my head toward my Master.
“What do you need me to do, master?” I asked with a trembling voice. I hated this, feeling so powerless and unsure of my future. Had everything I had done since my youth for nothing? Or would the Hexennacht really give my Master the wizarding world? I had no answer to those questions, and that worried me. If I stayed loyal until the end and my Master won, I was sure that I would obtain riches and he would reward me, but… was it worth it? Or was I dooming the Wizarding World with my actions?
“Silence, Wormtail,” My Master hissed, his displeasure easy to see. He always got like this whenever Walburga leaves. She was amazingly good at riling up my Master.
After five minutes of silence and a lot of fidgeting in my place, Voldemort finally continued, “We will do as she asked. " His glare hardened, and his magic blanketed the room, making it hard to breathe. “Their support is useful, and I cannot afford to lose it, not in the situation that I am in.”
I stayed silent, knowing that my opinion would be ignored either way.
“It's good that you are good at potions, wormtail. I want you to make this one specifically,” Voldemort hissed, using wandless magic to attract a book on the bookshelf. I did not recognize it, meaning it was provided by Walburga.
Standing up quickly to avoid angering my Master, I took the book with trembling hands.
My eyes widened in realization when I read the first paragraph, “My lord, I'm afraid that their methods are quite different from what I know; I don't know if I am capable of making it.”
With nervous sweat, I waited for an answer, but when it did not come, I continued, “Should I contact Snape for this?”
“Crucio,” Voldemort hissed in anger, and I felt my body tremble as the pain hit me. It was the worst one yet, and as the days passed, I noticed they were becoming more recurrent. My Master hated feeling weak and fixed that by making me suffer.
“Apologies, my lord,” I gasped as I fell to the floor. I will get to it as soon as I can.”
“Make sure of it, Wormtail. You are useful, but make no mistake, you will die if you continue to anger me.” My Master said in a deadly whisper.
Nodding rapidly, I dragged my painful body out of the room.
Now… how the fuck can I make this fast.
October 30.
After being able to stay in my human form for so long, returning to be a rat once more made me nauseous. I hated Sirius for forcing me to do that in the first place; it was all his fault.
Staying hidden with the Weasleys was… a good idea at the time. It made it possible to learn of the happenings in the wizarding world, but I also regretted it so much. It was one of the worst things to do as an Animagus. Staying in your animal form for years without stopping made your human form get characteristics from your animal form. It was one of the reasons I looked the way I did.
I would never boast of being handsome, but I was not this ugly during my youth.
Hogsmeade was filled with Aurors, and I could not afford to mess this mission up. My Master was in a worse mood than usual, thanks to the repeated appearance of the magicians, and I did not doubt that he would kill me if I failed.
Seeing the entrance of the Hog’s Head, I went behind some bushes to start the plan.
My Master had been specific in what I needed to do, and it would be best to follow his instructions.
Uncorking the first potion, I drank it in one go, grimacing at the taste.
It was the equivalent of Polyjuice for the supernatural world, and I doubted the wizards had a way to see something wrong. It was the form of a random muggle, but this would work to my advantage.
Standing up, I cleaned my robes with a swish of my wand and nodded in satisfaction, the first step completed.
Walking confidently to the pub, I opened the door firmly, smiling at seeing my target drinking at a table.
He was alone, just as I suspected. My Master had told me to learn everything I could about him, and I had followed him for weeks to learn about his habits.
Argus Filch was a known alcoholic. Taking care of the mess of hundreds of kids without magic made the reason obvious, but he was the perfect pawn for my master plan.
“Hello,” I smiled, “By any chance, are you Argus Filch? It's been so many years that I did not recognize you.” I asked in a nervous tone.
“And who’s askin’?” Filch muttered, squinting at me through bleary, bloodshot eyes. His voice was a low growl, but I expected that. I knew the kind of person he was, a spiteful man jealous of the gifts of others. “If you’re here to bother me ‘bout somethin’ stupid, you can turn yourself ‘round and march right back out that door.”
I offered a nervous chuckle, keeping my expression open and unassuming. “Oh, no, sir, I didn’t mean to bother you. I just, well, seeing you reminded me of all the effort you do to keep Hogwarts functioning.”
Filch straightened slightly, pride easy to see in his new posture. “That right?” he said, his tone still gruff but softened a fair bit. “Not often someone’s got the sense to recognize real work. That school’d fall to ruin without me, mark my words.”
“Absolutely,” I said, nodding eagerly. “No one else could handle the chaos of so many students, especially without… you know.” I gestured vaguely, and his lips twisted into a scowl.
“Magic,” he spat, the word leaving his mouth like venom. “Damn kids don’t appreciate a thing. Think they’re so clever with their spells, always makin’ a mess. And I’m the one left to clean up after ‘em, day in, day out. But no one notices, do they?”
“They should,” I replied quickly. “You’re the backbone of that school, Mister Filch. It’s why I came to find you. I… well, I wanted to apologize for the mess the kids make at school, and… I felt it would be a nice thing to do to invite you for a drink.”
Filch eyed me warily, taking a long swig from his tankard before setting it down with a clatter. “What’re you gettin’ at? Did you go to Hogwarts too?”
I laughed nervously, “Yes, in the seventies,” I nodded. Filch did not care for the students, and I doubted he would remember not seeing this face at the school.”
“You have magic, then? Were you the type of student that made messes for me to clean?” Filch asked gruffly, and I tried to hide the laughter inside. Oh… the things I had done with the rest of the Marauders. I think that he would try to kill me if he found out about my identity, magic or no magic.
“No, no,” I waved quickly, “I was a little Ravenclaw; I spent most of my time in the library.”
Filch rolled his eyes, “A bookworm, then?”
Nodding with a fake laugh, I continued, “So, would it be okay if I invited you for a drink?”
“Fine,” He huffed, “But I want the good stuff.”
Laughing, I nodded, “Whatever you want, mister Filch. You deserve it.”
“Damn right, I do,” Filch nodded proudly.
One hour later.
“I need to piss,” Argus Filch was drunk enough to worry even me, but this was the best moment to act.
“I should accompany you,” I faked my slurring, having not drunk enough to make me more than a bit tipsy.
“Lightweight,” Filch spat before laughing, “Magic doesn't help with that, aye?”
“Not for me,” I smiled, “Let's go,”
Walking, or more like tumbling in the case of Filch, we reached the bath. It was away from Abeforth Dumbledore, and I knew there was no magic here. It would be the perfect place to continue with the plan.
As soon as I checked, we were alone, and Abeforth was looking for another client I started.
“Stupefy,” I said as I pointed my wand at Filch’s back. Seeing him crumble into the urinal brought me joy.
“Fucking squib,” I laughed.
Getting to work, I uncorked the second potion, which was the hardest to make.
It was an imperious in a bottle, unidentifiable for any wizard. The orders given as soon as the victim drank it would stay in their subconscious until the exact moment.
Forcing him to drink it, I grimaced at the smell of piss clinging to his body.
“Pathetic,” I shook my head, “Now, Filch… your orders are to put this specific parchment into the Goblet of Fire without anyone suspecting you; after that, you will go to your chambers and commit suicide.”
It was needed. Even if they knew who was responsible for putting the extra name, they would not be able to learn how. Hogwarts had enough Aurors inside to check if someone was under the spell, but this potion would work wonders. This way, everyone would know who did this, but not who forced him or how.
Seeing him opening his eyes blearily, I smiled.
“Mister Filch, are you okay?” I asked him, helping him to stand up.
“I think I drank too much,” he hiccupped. "I think I should go back to school.”
“Let me help you out,” I nodded, laughing softly as he wobbled.
Master would be happy.
