To be honest, there wasn’t much to say about Peter Pettigrew’s story.
In short, he was a cowardly wretch who, to save his own skin, chose to betray his friends and defect to the Dark Lord.
During Voldemort’s peak, many wizards in the magical world made the same choice, becoming his lackeys—the Death Eaters.
In the end, these people either ended up in Azkaban, like Bellatrix Lestrange, or managed to escape justice through various means and continued to wield power in the wizarding world, like Lucius Malfoy.
But Peter Pettigrew was different.
Because the friend he betrayed was the father of the famous Harry Potter.
It was precisely because Voldemort believed his information that he decided to kill Harry Potter—the child destined to defeat the Dark Lord, according to the prophecy.
The result, as everyone knew.
Voldemort failed.
This left Peter Pettigrew in an awkward position.
Having betrayed his friends, he was shunned by the side of light, while the remaining Death Eaters believed his false information had caused Voldemort’s downfall.
In short, he was caught between a rock and a hard place.
Thus, he had no choice but to disguise himself as a rat for over a decade, hiding in the Weasley household.
“My Lord…
no!
Master, please spare me,” Peter Pettigrew pleaded.
“The entire British wizarding world has no place for me now.
You can trust my loyalty.
Furthermore, I am an Animagus.
I am absolutely of value to you.” “A great figure like you is destined to achieve great things in the wizarding world.
Please give me a chance to follow you.” Peter Pettigrew’s soul knelt before Daimon, looking as though he wanted nothing more than to kiss his boots.
Daimon stared intently at Pettigrew.
He could tell this was an extremely cowardly man who valued his life above all else.
As long as he held the power of life and death over him, there was no need to worry about betrayal.
Having been in this world for some time, Daimon indeed wanted to recruit a servant—a servant who could use magic.
Although the guy in front of him had an eyesore of an appearance, his abilities were decent.
“Your humility has earned you a chance.” Daimon threw Peter Pettigrew’s body onto the floor.
“Thank you, merciful and great Master!” Tears of gratitude welled up in Pettigrew’s eyes.
His soul quickly returned to his physical body, and Scabbers the rat instantly transformed back into his human form.
“Do not be so quick to thank me.” Daimon conjured a ball of fire in his right hand and violently forced it into Peter Pettigrew’s body.
“Aaaagh!” Peter Pettigrew shrieked in agony, but out of fear of being heard by others, he clamped his hands tightly over his mouth.
After a while, the pain subsided.
Drenched in sweat, Peter Pettigrew looked at his hands, his pupils shrinking in terror.
“Master, what is this?” Pettigrew asked in horror.
He discovered that his hands were covered in dense green scales.
Not just his arms—in fact, his entire body was covered in scales.
“This is my gift to you, and also my dominion over you,” Daimon said meaningfully.
“From now on, you will possess the power to control fire, but at the same time, your life is in my hands.” Daimon snapped his fingers, and Peter Pettigrew immediately let out a painful scream.
Pettigrew felt as though a raging fire was burning fiercely within his body, ready to reduce his life to ashes at any moment.
This method was even more terrifying than the Dark Lord’s Dark Mark used to control others.
Pettigrew’s heart was instantly filled with nothing but dread.
He could not believe that an eleven-year-old wizard could possess such power and intellect.
He even felt that the boy in front of him was not human at all, but a monster—a demon.
“Please rest assured, Master.
My loyalty to you is unquestionable,” Peter Pettigrew said, pressing his forehead firmly against the floor.
Daimon remained noncommittal, merely waving his hand to dismiss him.
“For now, you may continue to stay by Ron Weasley’s side.
Do not take any other actions unless summoned by me.” “Yes, Master.” Pettigrew turned back into a rat, returned to Ron’s bed, and closed his eyes.
However, there was no way he could sleep now.
The dormitory fell silent once more, as if nothing had happened.
—————– The next morning, by the time Daimon had finished washing up, the other boys in the dormitory finally woke up groggily.
“Man, that was a comfortable sleep.
I haven’t slept this soundly in ages,” Harry said cheerfully.
When he lived with his aunt, he had stayed in the storage cupboard under the stairs, sleeping on a crude camp bed.
Compared to that, his life now was absolute heaven.
“I slept really well last night too.
I didn’t even dream,” Ron agreed, equally happy.
He dressed quickly.
Out of habit, he reached for Scabbers by the bed and indeed found him right next to the pillow.
“That’s weird.
Harry, do you think Scabbers looks a bit green?” Ron picked up Scabbers and held him up to Harry’s face.
Harry squinted at the rat.
It really was green.
“Maybe he’s not adjusting to the change in environment?” Harry guessed.
“What does that mean?” Ron asked, puzzled.
As a pure-blood, he knew nothing about these concepts from the Muggle world.
“It means your body feels a bit off after entering a new environment,” Seamus Finnigan chimed in.
He was a half-blood wizard.
His mother was a witch, and his father was a Muggle, so he had grown up in Muggle society.
“But Scabbers used to be Percy’s rat.
He’s been to Hogwarts before,” Ron countered.
“Then maybe he’s sick.
I heard the school has a hospital wing.
You could take him there, and I can go with you,” Harry quickly suggested.
“Hey, guys, I don’t mean to interrupt, but I just checked the time, and if we don’t leave now, we’re probably going to be late,” Neville said timidly, having been quiet until now.
Harry and the others snapped awake.
Grabbing their textbooks, they rushed out of the dormitory, not even sparing a moment for breakfast.
They certainly didn’t want to be late for their very first class on their first day of school.
Meanwhile, Daimon, the instigator of all this, was still enjoying his breakfast in the Great Hall.
Even though British cuisine was hardly anything to write home about, he still ate with great relish.
During his centuries spent as a statue, he could neither eat nor move.
Living like that for nine hundred years was even more miserable than Sun Wukong trapped under the Mountain of Five Elements.
At that time, he had sworn that once he regained a physical body, he would indulge himself thoroughly.
As Daimon finished his breakfast, the Weasley twins approached him with conspiratorial grins.
“Daimon, remember what we talked about yesterday?” George asked.
“We have a magical item we’re putting up as a wager,” Fred said.
“And now, we’re going to show it to you.” George glanced around.
Making sure no one was paying attention, he pulled a blank piece of parchment from his pocket.
“And now, prepare to witness a miracle,” Fred joked.
George tapped the parchment lightly with his wand and said, “I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.” Instantly, thin ink lines spread across the parchment like a spider’s web, connecting and crisscrossing to gradually form a map.
At the top of the parchment, fancy green cursive letters appeared: Messrs.
Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs Purveyors of Aids to Magical Mischief-Makers are proud to present The Marauder’s Map This was a map that included nearly every detail of Hogwarts Castle.
But if that was all, it wouldn’t be so extraordinary.
The most incredible part was the numerous tiny black dots moving across the map, each labeled with a name in microscopic writing.
Daimon noticed that Harry, Ron, and the others were still in the dormitory; it seemed these guys were indeed going to be late today.
Meanwhile, Hermione had arrived early at the Transfiguration classroom, sitting there completely alone.
This was, in essence, a magical tracking and positioning map of Hogwarts.
“How’s that?
Not bad, eh?” George said, beaming with pride.
“We reckon it’s worth at least ten Gold Galleons…
right?” Fred said, his voice lacking a bit of confidence.
After all, at the end of every month, they always saw their mother fretting over even a single Galleon.
Ten Gold Galleons was an unimaginably massive sum of money to them.
“No,” Daimon shook his head solemnly.
“It’s not worth ten Galleons.” George and Fred exchanged a look, their smiles faltering slightly.
They stammered, “Well, in that case, we also have some other magical prank creations.
We think they should be worth…” “No,” Daimon interrupted them.
“My point is that it is worth far more than ten Gold Galleons.
How about twenty Gold Galleons?
I’ve decided to raise the wager to twenty Galleons.” In truth, this map, which could even reveal the whereabouts of Albus Dumbledore, was worth far more than twenty Galleons.
But the twins didn’t care about that; twenty Gold Galleons was more than enough to make them ecstatic.
“Daimon, you are truly a generous and wonderful guy.” “We are absolutely friends for life now.
Not even the Dark Lord himself could stop us.” The two of them almost jumped onto the long table to dance.
“Don’t thank me too early.
How do you know for sure that you’ll win this bet?” Daimon said with a smile, taking a sip of his pumpkin juice.
“We’ll see!” “To twenty Gold Galleons, and to our friendship!”