July 31, 1980
"He's an ugly little thing, isn't he?"
"Most people lie, you know, to the person who's just spent thirteen hours in labor."
"Oh, relax, Lily," Sirius replied, glancing up from looking at the newborn, "I can already tell he takes after cry baby over there. Your pretty genes couldn't survive past his, I'm afraid."
"That's not funny, Padfoot," James muttered from his chair next to Lily. He'd been crying (manly, fatherly tears) since Harry had been born and didn't appreciate the stab. Lily squeezed his hand, smiling at her husband.
"He's small," Sirius commented. Of course he knew why- Harry was early by a full three weeks. And of course Sirius knew why he was born early- Lily and James had only left the cottage for lunch in Diagon Alley when the explosion happened and the stress triggered Lily into labor, forcing James to rush Lily to the nearest fireplace to Floo away. The Healers assured Lily and James that the baby would be alright, but the unexpectedness of his birth caught them off guard. James was still more shaken than he would care to admit by how close he had been to losing both Lily and Harry all at once.
So of course Sirius understood James' tears. But he still had to take the mickey on him.
"Harry James," Lily told him, her voice soft. Sirius could hear the pride in her tone practically shining through the gentleness with which she spoke.
"That's a good name," he nodded, staring intently at the baby in his arms. This little thing, this child, scared Sirius. Scared him because he loved it. Him. Sirius loved Harry. Sirius loved that Harry was James' son and Sirius loved that Harry was his godson. This little bundle of a baby was now everything that James was going to fight for, and so Sirius would put in the same effort to protect his godson. Harry was born in the worst possible time and worst possible scenario, yet here he was.
"I'm sorry Remus and Peter aren't here," Sirius told James, who lifted his head. "Leave it to your offspring to ruin our carefully laid plans." Prongs smiled.
"When do you think they'll be able to come around?" James asked. He had half his mind wanting to hide Harry away, keep him safe until after the war while the other half told him to go prancing through the wards with his son. The absence of two of the Marauders brought him down, but he understood that Order business made everything difficult.
"Moony doesn't plan on coming back from under until the day before Harry's actual due date," Sirius explained, "but I couldn't get in touch with Peter. I was in a rush to get here myself, see." Sirius had left his post as soon as he got word from James through the mirror, reconnaissance be damned.
"They'll come around," Lily assured James with another squeeze of her hand. There was a brief silence in which all that could be heard was the muffled voices through the door and the distant cry of other infants through the ward. Sirius stood up carefully so as not to wake Harry, who had been sleeping the entire time Sirius held him. James stood too, reaching for his son.
"You really think he looks like me?" James asked, a wide smile plastered on his face. Sirius grinned too. When was the last time they'd had the chance to be this happy?
"My poor godson will have to look like you all his life," Sirius replied, clapping James on shoulder. "I have to go back before anyone notices how long I've been missing," he told them. James nodded and Lily made a pitying face. Sirius moved to kiss her on the cheek, then walked towards the door.
"Stay safe, kids," he gave as his farewell, glancing once more back at the room. Lily, exhausted but glowing, and James, beaming back and forth between wife and son. Then there was Harry, who would never realize that his first encounter with Death Eaters would happen before he was even born.
Sirius Black found rare occasion to be truly happy, but July 31, 1980 had managed to surprise him. His best friend had a son and he was the godfather and that was enough. Harry's birth had put the war back into perspective for Sirius. There was a reason to fight and there was hope and all of this could be found in Harry James Potter.
July 31, 1981
"Where's Harry?" Sirius burst through the door, striding right past James who had opened it to welcome him in.
"Yes, welcome, Sirius," James drawled, "I'll take your coat, Sirius. Oh, the Puddlemere match was fantastic, wasn't it?"
Sirius simply ignored him and walked on into the living room, placing a package in the corner of the room before plopping down onto the floor next to Peter, who was watching Harry walk across the floor in his baby buggy shaped like a hippogryff. The moment Sirius passed the threshold, Harry cried, "Doggy!" and reached his arms up.
"I swear it's like we don't even live here," Lily told Remus in the kitchen as she grabbed another Butterbeer from the fridge, "just Harry."
"I think I used to be friends with Sirius," James chimed, "but I don't remember."
"Oh, quit your complaining," came Sirius' defense as he now strolled in the kitchen, complete with Harry sitting happily in his arms. "Here," he walked to the fridge and gave Lily a kiss on the cheek, "better?" She rolled her eyes but smiled.
"I think you owe James more than me, Padfoot."
"Right!" Sirius exclaimed, spinning to see James stand leaning against the kitchen door frame with his eyebrows raised. "Give us a kiss, won't you, mate?" James ducked, quickly getting out of the way as Sirius dipped, mostly for Harry's sake. His efforts were paid off when Harry gave a shriek of delight.
"Kiss, Daddy, kiss!"
"Can't believe it's been a whole year," Remus told Lily who now sat with him as they watched James run comically away from Sirius and Harry. Children, all three of them, Lily thought. Remus spoke again, looking away from Lily. "I couldn't get Harry a present, I'm sorry. You know how things are..." The guilt in his voice pained Lily.
"We couldn't even get out to shop," Lily confessed. "I'm sure Harry will understand. So don't be sorry," she told him, reaching her hand over to his. "Things will get better for you, I promise. Dumbledore's work has you more under than anyone expected. You know we're always here," Lily added, knowing he understood the reminder that James had offered Remus financial help more times than he could count.
Remus' lips tugged in what he wanted to be a meek grin that turned into more of a grimace. His weeks spent with the werewolf underground showed in his thin and scarred face. "I know," he said, "but I'm okay. I just can't necessarily spend what Sirius spent."
Lilly's eyes widened. "I didn't even see what he brought." This time Remus' smile was true, the corners of his eyes creasing.
"James'll love it. Harry will love it. You... maybe not so much." Remus laughed as he watched Lily's eyes darken and narrow.
"What did that lunatic bring into my home?" She seethed. Remus, always the bright one, didn't answer.
After James and Sirius grew tired of their game and Harry was entertained, Lily called everyone into the kitchen and James placed Harry in his Quidditch stands shaped high chair for their small birthday dinner. She laid a miniature Treacle Tart in front of him, the number one candle on top burning a happy purple flame.
Maybe laying low wasn't all that bad for the Potter's, Sirius considered. He knew Prongs was restless and Lily trapped, but if staying holed up in Godric's Hollow was the price to pay for their safety, it was worth it.
"So," Sirius piqued as dinner came to a lull and Harry sat quietly, syrup and crumbs littered across his face, "is everyone properly prepared for this?"
"No."
"Rhetorical question, Lily," he muttered, getting up.
James' eyes widened as Sirius came back into the room towing the sloppily wrapped gift in his arm. "You didn't," he whispered, excitement etched across his features. Lily, on the other hand, eyed her husband, then Sirius, then the package. Realization made her glare.
"You didn't," she nearly hissed.
"What did Padfoot do?" Peter asked, confused. Remus simply laughed.
James brought Harry in the living room ("No, give Daddy back his glasses,") and Sirius tore the wrapping paper off to reveal the miniature Cleansweep toy racing broom. Lily, Remus, and Peter followed in.
"Broom!" Harry clapped. "Broom, broom!"
"If this kills my son, Sirius, I swear on your motorbike I will hunt you down," Lily threatened before taking a seat on the armchair.
"He's my son," James said as they removed the packaging around the broom, "the flying genes will kick in." Harry crawled onto James' lap, trying to grab the broom. James laughed. "Moony, come take Harry so we can get this set up."
With Remus holding Harry, looking slightly uncomfortable as the baby ran his fingers alongside the scars on his face, and Peter watching quietly as he and James worked on the safety charms required, and Lily reading while attempting to look disinterested, Sirius was happy. These days, he was only happy and safe when with the Potter's. The Order wasn't much fun without them, and the strain of the war weighed him down more than he'd even admit to James.
When he placed Harry on the broom and watched James hold him steady as Lily gave a reluctant smile at the pair, it struck Sirius with how much he'd do, how much he'd give, for this little family to live.
October 31, 1981
He decided it'd be best to check on Wormtail before heading over to the cottage that night. Stepping out of his flat, Sirius zipped up his jacket, the October air growing chillier by the day. It was, after all, Halloween, meaning that the fall warmth all but vanished into November cold. He could feel the miniature Snitch he'd found for Harry buzzing round his pocket, and he smiled. It would almost be like the one Prongs had nicked just to impress Evans back in school. Harry loved his broom, after all. It only seemed fitting to help him along in his future Quidditch career. Who knows, maybe Harry would be able to take the professional route that James was forced off of in Seventh Year when they decided to join the resistance. Certainly by the time Harry would be in school, he'd have the freedom to make the choices they'd never been able to make.
Once he was certain he surpassed the Apparation block of his flat, Sirius turned on his heel and landed outside the Muggle complex that Peter was hiding out in.
It wasn't much, and that was the idea. Wormtail could easily blend in with the nobody-Muggles, either as himself or as a rat. It didn't have to be permanent- just until the threat on the Potter's passed or they found a way to flee the country. It was another idea Sirius had that he hoped to run by James this evening. If there was a way with minimal danger, he'd tell them to flee. There were safe havens in the Alps the Order knew of. If they could get past this initial threat, the Potter's could be safe. They'd all live.
The lantern meant to light the sidewalk was flickering feebly, making the path to the stairwell nearly pitch black. He resisted using his wand tip for light, remembering his surroundings. Besides, Wormtail's flat wasn't far. Just around the corner.
When Sirius turned and saw the door still intact, nothing out of the ordinary, he let out a breath he didn't know he was holding in. The plan was working. Peter hadn't been found.
He knocked on the door twice, then once, then twice. "It's me," Sirius said.
Peter didn't answer the door. Maybe he was sleeping? He tested the lock.
The door was open.
"Peter? Peter!" The one room flat was empty, with no sign of a struggle.
And all at once, Sirius knew.
He Apparates directly on their property, but that shouldn't happen. He sees the house and oh it's not supposed to look like that.
Through the door is a body, a pile on the floor. He knows who it is, but it's not possible because James can't be dead. That corpse has James' face and hair and glasses but it can't be James because James can't be dead.
But he is and Sirius knows it. James is dead. Dead. James, who had brought Sirius life when there was none in his past. Dead.
There's no point or logic to it, but he won't let go of James. If he could just embrace him, will the life back into him, even trade places with him, it'd be done in a heartbeat. But he can't.
There is nothing else in the world except for the knowledge that this was his family, these Potter's in Godric's Hollow, and that they are dead. Brother and sister and nephew, gone.
He stands up because he has to, because he knows that the path of destruction leads directly up to the nursery, and he has to see Lily and Harry. He has to see what he has done, what Pettigrew has done.
There are boxes scattered on the floor. He and James were supposed to move those into the attic months ago. Lily's on the floor, too. Dead, like her husband. Sirius takes no comfort that they are together, because he is alone. And something else, some mound of black cloak-
"Harry?" The baby's standing up in his crib and he's alive. Harry's eyes are greener than usual, the exact color of a Killing Curse. "Harry, it's okay, I'm here," there's cut on his forehead but he's alive while his parents are dead on the floor. "C'mon, Harry," he picks him up, grabbing the bedding and holding his head so he doesn't see anything. Harry isn't crying, but maybe that's because Sirius has shed enough tears for the both of them. He doesn't know where they're going, just away, out of here. He pretends that he didn't just step over Lily's body to head to the stairs, but he can't go back out through the front door. He can't see James. He leaves through the back.
Outside now, a voice growls, "Whose there?" but Sirius isn't startled. It's only Hagrid. "Ay, Sirius," the gamekeeper mutters, looking at the cottage with water in his eyes, "Dumbledore sent me, he says- it can't be true- he said-"
"It's true," he replies. There is no emotion in his voice. He's a void of space, nothing.
"And Harry?"
"Safe," he replies, still holding his nephew tight.
Hagrid still looks at the cottage, whose upstairs is nothing but destruction. "Professor Dumbledore'll be expecting me and Harry soon," he manages to get out before blowing his nose.
"No," Sirius hears his voice say, "I'll take Harry. I need to get him out of here, out of-"
"I'm sorry, Sirius," Hagrid replies, "but I've got orders from Dumbledore. I'm sure you could talk to him after."
Right. Talk to Dumbledore. Dumbledore who didn't know that Sirius' greatest stroke of genius cost the lives of the two greatest people in his life. Dumbledore who didn't know that Pettigrew was the Secret Keeper and not him.
James was dead. He could not take his godson.
Sirius Black was left with one option.
So he gives Hagrid his nephew and his motorbike- the one he and James would go on and on about, the one Lily hated more than anything- because he has no need for it. Hagrid has Sirius' last treasures and he's glad they'll be taken care of. He looks one last time into his godchild's face. The eyes, his mother's, but the rest is so distinctly James that he can't bear to look any longer. Harry reaches his arms out, protesting and whimpering against his blankets for Sirius to hold him one last time like he used to. He wants his uncle to run around with him and play with him like always, but Sirius won't, he won't. He's walking away when he hears Harry wail once more, but he is a dead man walking.
Inside he is nothing but his one new purpose in life. He's never felt more powerful than in this moment. Maybe his family was right. Maybe there was pleasure in the Unforgivable.
Those are a lot of maybe's, but Sirius Black is sure of one thing.
Murdering Peter Pettigrew will be the best and greatest thing he's ever done.