errorYou must be logged in to review this story.
End of All Hope
folder
Harry Potter › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
6
Views:
2,332
Reviews:
3
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Harry Potter › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
6
Views:
2,332
Reviews:
3
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Peter
Dedication: For Tara...here you go, the chapter you\'ve been waiting for! I promised, and here it is...
Author\'s Note: I am full of good food and humor. All is well in the world today. I have three days off
of work, and I\'m going to catch the midnight showing of Die Hard this Friday. To celebrate, I\'m
catching up on my fics.
End of All Hope
Peter
Why are the followers, the workers, those who build the empires, always forgotten? Without them,
nothing would ever be done. But they were ignored, insignificant, uncared for once their task was
done. They were tossed aside, no longer needed. A tool whose purpose was done was cast to the
side.
Peter had no illusions. Not anymore. They had all been broken, along with his will. He had once
believed himself to be needed, important. Those thoughts were dead, cast aside much as he himself
had been.
How long had it been, since they called upon him? How long since they sought him out, enlisted his
aide? He was nothing. Forgotten. They didn\'t even know his name. Where would they be, without
him? Hadn\'t it been he who raised their lord and master back to strength? He had toiled and
sacrificed, and they had done nothing. Waited, watched, sat in their safe palaces, lying to the world
until the time was right. They rode on the blood, sweat and tears that Peter had shed.
They say that the broken are useless, but that is not true. The broken, once mended, can be quite
dangerous. Peter had cultivated his resentment, nurturing it until it grew to fulosslossomed hatred. He
carried it with him, cared for it as he would a child. It was the only thing he was certain of. They had
used him.
He had spent his life being used, but not like this. Those he harkened to before had never abandoned
him quite like this. He had been a fool. He had made a grave mistake, and he was paying tenfold for it
now.
Even the broken can break.
No one took any note of him. They did not see when he gathered is meager belongings together. They
did not see when he slipped off into the night. They didn\'t see when he removed the Mark that would
allow their lord to find him. He had lost one arm already, what was one more?
Peter was used to pain. And he knew what to do, to stop the bleeding. He could ignore it, push it
aside as he made his way across the countryside. He spent his life in misery, in hatred. The focus of
those feelings just shifted. From vengeance to vengeance he flittered, like some twisted gift giver.
They had used him. He hated being used. Why did no one ever take him for what he was? Why was
he seen as only a tool, a means to an end. They had filled him with promises, strung him along, and
never followed through. And what could he do?
That was their mistake. It is far, *far* better to be underestimated. Low expectations can always be
caught by surprise. Peter doubted a single member of the Dark Lords forces saw him as a threat.
They forgot he was a wizard, and a powerful one. Powerful enough, in his own mind. He had a wand,
and a will. And a burning drive inside of him.
Even a dog that is beaten will eventually snap at it\'s master. Peter would be ignored no longer. They
would see him for what he truly was, and they would learn their lesson the hard way. He was not to be
taken lightly. To promise him power, glory, and give him nothing but obscurity.
He knew their secrets. He knew things he probably shouldn\'t know. Things they had thought hidden
from the likes of him. And he would deliver that information right into the hands of those whoiredired it
most...
Voldemort *would* pay.
~~~~~~~~~~~
Author\'s Note: I am full of good food and humor. All is well in the world today. I have three days off
of work, and I\'m going to catch the midnight showing of Die Hard this Friday. To celebrate, I\'m
catching up on my fics.
End of All Hope
Peter
Why are the followers, the workers, those who build the empires, always forgotten? Without them,
nothing would ever be done. But they were ignored, insignificant, uncared for once their task was
done. They were tossed aside, no longer needed. A tool whose purpose was done was cast to the
side.
Peter had no illusions. Not anymore. They had all been broken, along with his will. He had once
believed himself to be needed, important. Those thoughts were dead, cast aside much as he himself
had been.
How long had it been, since they called upon him? How long since they sought him out, enlisted his
aide? He was nothing. Forgotten. They didn\'t even know his name. Where would they be, without
him? Hadn\'t it been he who raised their lord and master back to strength? He had toiled and
sacrificed, and they had done nothing. Waited, watched, sat in their safe palaces, lying to the world
until the time was right. They rode on the blood, sweat and tears that Peter had shed.
They say that the broken are useless, but that is not true. The broken, once mended, can be quite
dangerous. Peter had cultivated his resentment, nurturing it until it grew to fulosslossomed hatred. He
carried it with him, cared for it as he would a child. It was the only thing he was certain of. They had
used him.
He had spent his life being used, but not like this. Those he harkened to before had never abandoned
him quite like this. He had been a fool. He had made a grave mistake, and he was paying tenfold for it
now.
Even the broken can break.
No one took any note of him. They did not see when he gathered is meager belongings together. They
did not see when he slipped off into the night. They didn\'t see when he removed the Mark that would
allow their lord to find him. He had lost one arm already, what was one more?
Peter was used to pain. And he knew what to do, to stop the bleeding. He could ignore it, push it
aside as he made his way across the countryside. He spent his life in misery, in hatred. The focus of
those feelings just shifted. From vengeance to vengeance he flittered, like some twisted gift giver.
They had used him. He hated being used. Why did no one ever take him for what he was? Why was
he seen as only a tool, a means to an end. They had filled him with promises, strung him along, and
never followed through. And what could he do?
That was their mistake. It is far, *far* better to be underestimated. Low expectations can always be
caught by surprise. Peter doubted a single member of the Dark Lords forces saw him as a threat.
They forgot he was a wizard, and a powerful one. Powerful enough, in his own mind. He had a wand,
and a will. And a burning drive inside of him.
Even a dog that is beaten will eventually snap at it\'s master. Peter would be ignored no longer. They
would see him for what he truly was, and they would learn their lesson the hard way. He was not to be
taken lightly. To promise him power, glory, and give him nothing but obscurity.
He knew their secrets. He knew things he probably shouldn\'t know. Things they had thought hidden
from the likes of him. And he would deliver that information right into the hands of those whoiredired it
most...
Voldemort *would* pay.
~~~~~~~~~~~