A Call from Conscience

Little Peter, friend-turned-traitor,
look at what you’ve done.
James Potter, mischief-maker,
and sweet Lily are both gone.

The once happy house lies in ruins,
thanks to your evil deeds.
By telling your knowledge, you’ve displayed your ignorance;
my heart, for you, bleeds.

But I’m sure you don’t repent,
once trustworthy friend.
For you care for nothing more
than your life, which you adore.

Think for a moment,
what you meant to the dead couple!
You were their best friend,
and now they lie beneath the rubble.

You face death, my dear Peter –
not only of life, but even of soul.
There is a difference, and that’s no sweeter
than the blackest coal.

Understand, Peter Pettigrew,
however dim you may be.
The mischief you begin to brew
will find you in the end, so flee!