"Peter?" His voice rang out into the dark, musty hallway. One hand was on the open door, the other holding his wand aloft, illuminating the peeling wallpaper on the bare walls in front of him. An empty silence echoed back at him.

Cold dread crept down into his stomach, his throat clenching with fear. Sirius took another step into the flat, letting the door swing close behind him.

"Peter, I swear to God, you better not be fucking messing with me," he growled into the silence. He swung his wand arm towards the nearest wall, and a shining blue thread of light appeared where his wand tip met the flaking wallpaper. The light thread stretched away from the wand, forming a long line that seemed to run the length of the wall before disappearing around the first corner. Within moments the light came streaking back down the hallway on the opposite wall, having run the perimeter of the flat to rejoin the wand.

So the security charm was still intact. No one had forced entry into this flat since he himself had cast the protective charms only a week ago. He strode hurriedly down the hallway, glancing quickly into each of the rooms. Everything was in order, with no sign of a struggle. And yet Peter was gone.

They had gone through this so carefully. Selected the house, cast the charms, agreed he was to remain inside no matter what, and send word to Sirius if anything was needed. For his safety. For the safety of Lily and James.

Sirius could feel his ears ringing. The growing suspicion born from months of stress and failed plans and death gnawed mercilessly at his gut. Catches of past conversations flickered through his brain. "Death Eaters ambushed us, they knew our plans. Don't know how, but they knew we would be there." "How could he have known, Sirius? How did he know Harry was born in July?" "The McKinnons are dead. Dumbledore believes a traitor is among us."

He turned towards the door, pounding the wall with his fist. Everything seemed so clear in retrospect. How could he have missed it? The quiet, nervous, sweating face of Peter Pettigrew filled his vision. He had written him off as too weak, too spineless. Too attached to James and himself. Pudgy, blubbering, agreeable Wormtail. He was their friend. Their brother. Despite his faults, they cared for him. Trusted him. When he ragged on himself, who brought him back to his feet? Who made him laugh? Who made sure he was never left behind, even when they so often moved faster than Peter could keep up?

This was supposed to have been a brilliant move. The perfect bluff. Everyone expected Sirius to be the Potters' secret-keeper. Guilt flooded his mind as he remembered his reasoning for the switch. He couldn't bear the thought of being cooped up in a safe house, not when there was so much fighting left to do. He would have died for James – but why be locked up when Peter was such an excellent alternative? Who would have guessed Peter? The weakest dueler, the most frightened when called up for a mission. Pulling him off fieldwork to protect his best mate seemed like the perfect scenario.

And James had agreed whole-heartedly. It was a brilliant plan, he had said. Wished he had thought of it himself. Only Lily had been hesitant. A small frown and a worried sigh. "It isn't that I don't trust him," she had said anxiously, "but I'm worried it may be too much. He seems so nervous lately." But they had all been more tired, more stressed. And in the end, she had no doubt that Wormtail would keep them safe. None of them did.

Sirius flung open the front door, and fled out into the night. Apparition would be faster…but he needed to clear his head. Despite the panic bubbling inside of him, he didn't want to startle Lily and James with a sudden midnight appearance. He didn't even know if his growing fears were true. He would take his motorbike to Godric's Hollow, and if Peter wasn't there simply making an unplanned visit, he would send a hasty note to headquarters and let James know the worst.

After all, it might be someone else in the Order, he thought to himself as he vaulted onto his bike and started up the engine. He urged the bike forward and accelerated quickly into the starry sky.

Just last week he had wrestled with the fear that Moony was the traitor. It had been weeks since they had heard from him, and startling accusations were starting to form among the Order. Remus had been privy to several of the key information leaks before leaving to spy among the werewolves, and there had been little useful information incoming from his undercover work. Sirius hadn't brought these recent rumors up to James, knowing James' fervent loyalty. But it had been hard for Sirius to ignore the whispers, and the seeds of doubt were planted deeper than he would have admitted. If Voldemort had come calling, was he really so sure that Moony would refuse to crack? After months of life among the lowest and cruelest company, living off rats and listening to the ceaseless blaming of wizards for their miserable lot in life…would he betray his friends, if the time came?

No…with the revelations of the last hour, Sirius felt sure the truth had been revealed at last. The traitor had never been Remus – it was Peter from the start. And as this conviction grew stronger, the fear and dread of what he might find at Godric's Hollow became more urgent.

Just a few more minutes, almost there. Merlin, let me be wrong. Show me I have this all fucked up. This can't be it.

Faster he flew, passing over village after village. Lights twinkled up at him from light posts and frosted windows. So many families, fast asleep and blissfully unaware of any danger imposed by the war waging in the world hidden from them.

Guilt welled up inside of him, fighting for space among the fear and anger. This had been his idea. His bloody, stupid idea. He shouldn't have let the safety of his best mate's family fall on anyone else's shoulders. James had come to him. Dumbledore had agreed. He had been the best choice. He would do anything to protect the Potters. And now he had failed them.

He began his swift descent towards Godric's Hollow. Clouds had drifted across the moon, making it difficult to see what lay ahead of him. He thought he could make out tendrils of smoke – but no, those could easily be smoke from neighboring chimneys.

The motorbike touched down a few houses away, and sped across the pavement, around the curve that led to the Potters' driveway.

His heart stopped. The top floor of the home had a large, gaping hole in it, as if something had blasted it away from the inside. Debris was scattered across the front lawn and a small fire had crept up the roof, emitting gray, smoky ash into the sky.

His worst fears were confirmed. The Potters had been betrayed.

Wand clenched tightly in his fist, he flew off the motorbike and headed towards the home. They can't be dead. They can't be dead. The blood had drained from his face, a hollow ringing in his ears deafened the surroundings into an unearthly silence.

A large figure came bursting out the front door and down the drive. Sirius had a half-formed spell on his lips before realizing with a jolt that he recognized the figure. It was Hagrid, and he was carrying something in his arms.

Oh no. Oh god, they can't be dead.

"Hagrid!" he croaked. The figure jumped.

"Bloody 'ell, Sirius. Ye gave me a fright." The moon broke through the clouds, illuminating Hagrid. Tears streaked his bearded faced, and his voice cracked as he spoke.

No, no, no! This can't be happening.

Pale faced, Sirius approached Hagrid and saw his godson in Hagrid's arms.

"Harry – is he —" He couldn't finish, couldn't think the words let alone say them out loud.

The baby stirred, letting out a small cry. Hagrid bent over the bundle, his whiskers quivering as he shushed the baby back to sleep.

"He's alright now, isn't he?" Hagrid grumbled softly. The momentary relief was immediately replaced by dread. There was only one reason Hagrid would be standing here with Harry in his arms. He turned towards the ruined house, ready to burst through the doors and find the worst.

Hagrid suddenly gripped his arm, stopping him from approaching the house. "Yeh shouldn't go in ther'," he said roughly. The look on his face told Sirius everything he needed to know. Lily and James were dead.

"NO!" It came out as a strangled cry. An unrivaled fire burst into his heart. He had never felt this angry before, nothing could match this: the years of manipulation and scorn at the hands of his family, the burning hatred he had for those power-hungry pureblood elitists, the anger he had felt as he watched the Order members dwindling, slowly being picked off by Death Eaters. Nothing could compare to this rage.

His best mates, dead. Killed by the worthless Peter Pettigrew, their friend.

The rat was going to pay for this. He was going to die a long, slow death for what he did.

"That fucking son-of-a-bitch!" he snarled. Sparks flew from Sirius' wand. His breathing was heavy, his mind racing.

Hagrid tightened his grip on Sirius' arm.

"He's gone. You-Know-Who is gone - dead I reckon," Hagrid said slowly. "His spell agains' the boy backfired, blew tha' hole in the house."

The baby began to fuss again, flailing among the blankets. The noise stopped Sirius, and with great effort he turned away from the smoking house, where his closest friends, more family to him than his family had ever been, lay dead.

"But – how?" Sirius said in a quiet fury, his eyes drawn to the fresh scar shining on his godson's forehead. "How is that possible?"

Hagrid shook his head, incredulously. Something inside Sirius stirred. Lily and James were dead; but Harry was right here in front of him – alive, but helpless and alone. This was his responsibility, his last chance to get things right.

He reached out for the boy. "Give him to me, Hagrid. Please. I'm his godfather."

Hagrid adjusted the blankets around Harry before saying gently, "I'm t' take him away, Sirius. Dumbledore's orders." Sirius' heart sank again. How much more frustration could he handle? The anger flared up inside him again.

"Where are you taking him?"

"He's to live with his Aunt 'n Uncle."

He was Harry's godfather. He should take Harry. But there was no use protesting, Sirius knew, not when Dumbledore was involved. Hagrid would never go against the Headmaster's wishes. Lily and James dead, Harry being taken away.

Tears burned at the corner of his eyes. This was worse than his worst nightmare.

He felt Hagrid's large hand grip him by the shoulder. "Lily an' James – they died as heroes. No better people I've ever known." Sirius nodded. They stood there in the silence of the night, in mutual grief, neither knowing what else to say.

Suddenly Sirius squared his shoulders and gritted his teeth. The fear, dread, and guilt had disappeared as quickly as it had come, replaced by a burning purpose. It had been a feeble chance, really. He was in no position to care for Harry, and he knew it. There was no place for a baby where he was going.

His path forward was clear: kill Peter Pettigrew.