A/N: I don't know whether this has been done before, but it kept nagging at me and I just had to write it =)

She exits the shop with a bottle of wine in her hand and pirouettes across the street, heedless of the strange looks thrown her way by the Muggles passing by. Her dress swirls around her feet as she crosses and a laugh bubbles out of her throat. She knows she looks a right sight, but You-Know-Who is dead, the Potters had something to do with it and little Neville will grow up in a safe world, a happy world. Tonight, she will make Frank his favourite pasta and dessert and they will celebrate in style.

A high-pitched scream rends the air and she is jolted back into reality, where a large crowd of Muggles is forming. Her eyes widen as she sees a trail of red sparks shooting across the sky and she apparates to a spot nearer the front where she will be able to see better. A deathly silence has settled on the scene as every man, woman and child warily watches the two men standing opposite each other, wands raised and at the ready.

It takes her a moment to recognize Peter Pettigrew, even though she was at school with him for seven years of her life, and it has only been a few years since. He has gained weight and his posture is even worse than before, hunched over and lacking in the confidence that his friends always exuded. His mousy brown hair looks limp and unhealthy, and there is a fairly large bald spot on the crown of his head. A look of sheer terror is evident on his sallow face as he stares at the other man.

Her breath catches in her throat as she looks at Sirius Black. Him she recognizes at once – it is impossible not to, really. He has changed very little, except perhaps that he is a little thinner. His dark hair still falls into his face with that careless elegance that even most women cannot achieve without much fuss and bother. His aristocratic, rather arrogant features are contorted with so much fury that it seems to radiate off him in waves, but what strikes her most forcibly are his eyes: stormy grey, holding a world of anger and pain and yes, a hint of madness in them as they never leave Peter Pettigrew's face.

Peter is shouting something about James and Lily, accusing Sirius of an unspeakable crime, and it dawns on her that the Potters are dead. Her heart drops into her feet.

And then, Sirius's eyes are flaming and he has raised his wand and is shouting something, and there is a massive explosion, and for a few moments, the world is filled with smoke. And when it clears, several people are lying motionless on the ground and there is a severed finger at her feet. She gazes at it wordlessly for what seems like an eternity, and then raises her eyes to the man responsible. He looks, for an instant, just as shocked as she is, face drained of all colour.

And then he starts to laugh.

She hardly blinks as the people around her erupt into horrified screams, never letting her gaze waver as black-robed Ministry officials with badges on their chests bear down on the near-hysterical wizard responsible for this. He is bent over, hands resting on his knees, cold, maniacal laughter issuing from his lips, eyes now strangely dead and empty. She hears him gasp out the words "That – clever – bastard" as his arms are taken and he is pulled upright.

He is still laughing as he is borne away, and she knows this image will be branded in her mind forever: Somber-faced Ministry officials flanking this wild, rebellious, passionate, beautiful boy who has never looked less Black than he does now despite the insanity lacing every bark of laughter, and a single finger lying twisted and shriveled in the grass a foot away from her. And somehow, even though she has witnessed the murder firsthand, she cannot bring herself to believe that Sirius Black has killed three of his best friends in the world.

…

Later that night, she sits across the table from Frank, her hands clasped in his, blue eyes wide and glistening as she mourns the loss of her friends. His lips are pursed and he, like her, is still reeling from shock. A thunderous banging on the front door snaps them out of their individual trances.

"I'll get it," she says, and her voice is thin and small, not at all like it usually is. She passes Neville, comfortably ensconced in a blanket on the couch with a row of pillows hemming him in and preventing him from rolling off, on the way to the front door.

However, when she reaches, it is already open. Several people stand in the doorway, but the one who catches her eye first is a tall hooded woman, blessed with the same kind of beauty as the man who was arrested earlier on today. Dark hair falls over her shoulders and her eyes are heavy-lidded and bottomless as she leers at her, revealing white, even teeth.

"Hello," she says, her voice like velvet and honey, yet oddly disconcerting. "I'm here to ask you a few questions." She ends her sentence with a crazed giggle.

Back in the living room, little Neville starts to cry.

A/N: I'm actually pretty happy with this one. Reviews would be much appreciated, seeing as they'll help me improve as a writer. =) Also, I'm not very good with titles. This one is a reference to the fact that Harry Potter's story pretty much starts from this point.