A/N: This is just a little thing I wrote one day in Biology class to go with a drawing a friend of mine did, which explains the line about the mark on the wall, if she ever gets the picture up on her website I'll add a link. Reviews are greatly appreciated. I don't own Harry Potter or any of the characters, they Belong to J.K. Rowling.
It seems almost sick to me know, how easily we forget. A few tears shed and suddenly it is all over, we forget. I don't want to forget, and I don't want the world to either, but it is, it had forgotten long ago.
Sometimes I want to run outside and scream to the world that Sirius was here, just so someone can remember that a man named Sirius once lived. But I can't because to the world a man named Sirius was never supposed to be heard of again, a name condemned to some list of dark wizards and nothing more.
Death seems such a final thing, I guess it is really. He was no coward and his spirit would not linger, but sometimes I wish he had been afraid, so maybe I could at least say goodbye. I guess that makes me the coward, scared of going onward and forgetting.
I always wonder if there was something more I could have done for him, and I could tell you a million things. I could have believed him, tried harder to help him, or have just not left him by himself in the end. But I didn't, and I can't change that, no matter how much I want to.
But is it not uplifting to know that he will suffer no more. No longer bound to these hated hall and memories. Bound to a fate he should never have been dealt, while the true traitor waited those long years without the torture of guilt.
A single mark on a lonesome wall in the back alley of an unknown London street is all that will tell of his existence. Sirius was here.
And he was, once. Even if you don't know it.