The magical world stood on the brink of destructionânot because of the return of an old evil, but due to the rise of a new one. Peter Pettigrew, once the forgotten friend of the Marauders, was now a figure both feared and revered.
He had risen to power through cunning, betraying allies, manipulating enemies, and playing a crucial role in Voldemortâs downfall. Yet he had not done it for nobility but for ambition. Voldemort was an icon of the past; Peter saw himself as the symbol of a new era.
As he walked down the main hall of his fortress, the walls echoed with the chants of his followers:
âFor the Immortal Lord! For Pettigrew!â
The echo of his title filled the air, but Peter did not smile. He looked at the wand in his handâan extension of his will, a weapon that had cast more curses than he could remember.
âSo, you wanna start a war?
So, you wanna be immortal?
Those words echoed in his mind, a constant reminder of what he had done to get here. He had started a warânot just against the magical world but against his own humanity.
That night, in front of the ruined Ministry of Magic, Peter waited. There was a gleam of madness in his eyes as he looked out at the destroyed streets. The rebel forces had gathered against him, led by James Potter and the few who still resisted.
James emerged from the shadows, his cloak torn and his face hardened by battle.
âPeter,â he said coldly, his wand pointing directly at the heart of his former friend. âHow did we get here?â
Peter laughed, a bitter and hollow sound.
âHow did we get here?â he repeated mockingly. âDo you really not know, James? It was easy. I got tired of being the lapdog, the weak one, the one always left behind.â
âThat doesnât justify what youâve done. You⌠you killed Sirius, betrayed Lily, and all of us.â
The words cut through the air like blades, but Peter did not waver.
âHistory is dead, James. The icons of the past are dust. I am the future.â
If history is dead and gone,
Then how did we get here, my God?â
Jamesâs spell was the first to fly, a beam of light that Peter deflected with ease. The battlefield lit up with flashes of magic as the two dueled, each strike loaded with rage, pain, and broken memories.
At the climax of the battle, Peter managed to bring James down, his wand aimed directly at his former friendâs chest.
âIs this what you wanted, Peter?â James asked, panting. âTo become what you swore to destroy?â
For a moment, something in Peterâs eyes shifted. A flicker of doubt, a memory of who he had been. But it was fleeting.
âNo. What I wanted was to be seen.â
With a final movement, Peter unleashed a burst of magic that sent them both flying, leaving James wounded and the world in darkness.
As Peter walked away, his words echoed in the air like a haunting refrain.
âSo, you wanna start a war?
So, you wanna be immortal?