A.N. Yes, well, yet again I should be sleeping. Whether it is the shadow of things that haunt me or excitement of what will be delivered to the door on Saturday for me to read, I know not. However, here it is long past the time I should be sleeping and I've tossed together this story.

Disclaimer: Alas I do not own these characters. Merely a reflection on the world created by JKR.

In your history courses you read of the turning points. The moment when the war shifted, the society developed, the civilization collapsed. A battle, a work of art, a siege, these are the familiar stories of momentous occasions. They are wrong, though.

This is what I know.

The true moment of unimaginable importance is not found in one of the major battles of the Great Wizarding War. Rather it begins long before.

Yes, I know you must be thinking of when Harry Potter received his letter. You are wrong.

When Lily sacrificed herself for her son? No, sorry, again you are mistaken.

When Lily finally agreed to go on that fateful first date with James? No, my you are a romantic.

When Dumbledore became Headmaster? No, important though he is to the story of the War, this is not the true moment.

You are all young, you have so much yet to face. Yet you too have faced the same moment that proved to be an incredible force for good.

You see, within us all lie an entanglement of influences, decisions, histories and futures. It is left to our own selves to determine what we are to become. There are a few moments in each life that are pivotal; moments where a turn to the left instead of right means the difference between hope and despair.

For many it comes when you take on a significant role as Headmaster Dumbledore did. For others it is the moment when you finally see good in the person you considered your foe. For some it comes in a sacrifice that gives all you have for the sake of another. For a few it may be thrust upon them by circumstances, leaving them to find a path in a new world. And yes, some find their moment in the field of battle.

However, the moment that allowed me to be standing here today in this simple classroom was not any of those.

The moment that won the war was a moment you are all familiar with. A young boy stepped off a crimson train. Shepherded along with all the other smallest children he was taken to a hall with the night sky echoing. The storm displayed in the rafters belied the fate this boy would live. Clustered with the other new students he stood, waiting for his name.

At a table along the wall, some of his family sat waiting. They knew what was coming. Then the boy's name was called. A decrepit old hat was placed on his head. A conversation lost to history occurred between the boy and the hat. The hat bounced on the raven haired boy's head.

Time seemingly stopped. Later some would remember the moment as unusual; others would dismiss it as imaginary testimony to a fallen hero. For a moment suspense hung as the students and professors waited for the young man to be sorted. One of the professors, the same one we all look to as a hero, he sat with a familiar twinkle. Likely the dear headmaster already knew change was present, stirring up the air.

The hat took longer to sort the boy than any other child in the memory or records of the school. Finally, in its clear voice, the hat declared, "Gryffindor!"

Here usually applause occurs. All the tables politely clap, the house named hollers in appreciation. This moment was different.

This boy would be the inspiration for more trouble than any combination of the Weasley family ever could offer. This boy would become so crucial to the Order, the life of Harry Potter. This boy would inspire others to live what is right instead of what is expected. This boy would show that who you are is more than where you came from, but rather who you choose to be.

This moment showed the silence of the Great Hall. This boy stood up from the stool and looked slightly nervous as he glanced around him. Then his natural bravado, a family trait, kicked in and he began to saunter to the Gryffindor table. Another raven haired boy waved him over and pulled him into the empty seat next to him. A sandy haired boy, long of limb and heavily burdened introduced himself to the two sitting across from him. Finally the rest of the table began to cheer.

The boy's family, sitting on a table so close in distance, yet so far in sprit hardened. Divisions were made that day that affected those, even in this generation. The animosity was formed that resulted in the boy's death all those years later.

A bond was formed. In the openness of childish friendship three boys became friends. Yes, a fourth would join them; and betray them. However the friendship of these three would lead to great deeds of loyalty and bravery. Their deeds would offer hope to the world and victories in battle.

For you see, the moment that this boy was sorted into the House of Gryffindor, the War against Voldemort was lost. Though it was a shadow on the horizon, likely seen by few others than Dumbledore, it was in this moment that the light would win.

For Sirius Black, in ways the history books never can recount, changed the very fiber of those around him. James Potter found a brother, strength in times of trial and tragedy. The two conspired together to determine how to help James finally win Lily Evans. Remus Lupin found someone who understood what it was like to be haunted by a beast within that threatens to hurt others. Lily found a kindred spirit, someone who knew the betrayal of family yet could laugh and love still. Harry Potter found a link to his parents, an understanding of family, and a sense of love. Cousins found strength to follow his lead, choosing right over family tradition and horrific pressures. Yes, each person that played a key role in all those missions, battles, and schemes you daily study was influenced by this one man. I know he is but a footnote in chapter 22, "Hogwarts Before the First Rising." In Sirius Black we see what can happen when cynicism is over come, loyalty reigns, and selfless love dictates actions. Imagine for a moment what it would be like if we all more fully embodied those characteristics. Toss in a few of his marvelous pranks and you have a fairly idyllic existence.

I am not belittling the role of the brave witches and wizards who fought. I am not belying the ingenious planning of the Order. I am not dismissing all the efforts that went into the War. I am not idealizing a hero. He had his faults, I have witnessed them myself.

Rather I wish for you to see that history is comprised of a million souls, each with great power. And within each soul lies the capacity for greatness. Be it terrible or beautiful.

The question I leave for you is what will you choose?