Padfoot


Like any young wizard in England, I'd always wondered how Harry Potter, could withstand Voldemort. But, then again; I'm not just a young witch in London. Because, I knew. I was there. I knew what happened to Siruis Black, Peter Pettigrew, and James and Lily Potter, and little Harry. That is because Siruis, is my father.

On March Fourth Nineteen Eighty, I was born. Just four months before Harry Potter was born. Siruis Black had a short marriage with, Cornelia Watershue; they had a daughter, two years after their marriage. Black, being Potter's best friend, never told James about Cornelia, until her death. Four days after my birth, was her death. And left Sirius with a four-day-old baby daughter. Lily had agreed to take me in, but Remus Lupin, insisted he had kept me. The Potter's disagreed. And after Harry was born, a year and two months later, exactly, they were murdered.

And today. Fifteen years later, I am roaming the streets of London. An outlaw is I. Looking down at my shabby robes, I continue to walk. I had just woke up. My destination is Hogsmeade. Or at least Diagon Alley, some Wizard Community, that'll take me in.

The muggles around here know not to mess with me. Though they don't know me. Just as the descriptions on the "Wanted" signs in the Muggle jails. I bet Azkaban's better than this place. At least, I'll be with Wizards. My father was there, he got out.

My Wizarding Schooling isn't true. Hogwarts, I can't find. But I know where the Headmaster is. And next month, I'll be there. But I've got a month, and thousands of Galleons to spend on school. But, first. My father. I know not whether to convict him of leaving me, for an outlawed life. He's as lucky as unlucky that I have a natural talent for magic. I can still beat the crap out of him, to blame him. But I won't. I know he did the best he could.

The day after the Potter's house was blown up, practically, I went Marauder like my father. I found a book that had described everything of my past, present, and future.

Luckily, I have my secret to my survivor. But I don't loathe over it in Muggle England. For. Like my father, and his friends. I am an Animagus. And that's why I'm the Padfoot. Or, at least, if Padfoot was light on his feet. I don't care, really. That's me. Padfoot.

A/N- oui vey! Terrible! Anyways, I'm writing more! Oh, and about "The Padfoot"; she's got a real name. You'll find that next. I need some reviews first. I'll say five. Usually it's ten, but I don't get many reviews, and I don't depend on it.