A/N – Hello. I started writing this before then lost motivation and stopped. I came back to it nearly a year later and realised it was kind of rubbish so I completely edited it and re-uploaded. Any comments, support and constructive criticism would be greatly appreciated. I hope you enjoy!

Disclaimer: For the whole story, everything is J.K Rowling unless you've never heard of it in which case it comes from the depth of my imagination.

Prologue

Long live the reckless and the brave

Or

The end of the beginning

Sirius Black always had always known he would die fighting. All his life he had been more likely to settle a feud with a duel, or in some cases his fists, than with a reasoned argument. He could not count the number of brawls and altercations he had managed to get into during his life but had always managed to come away on top. Yet he knew there would come a day when he would not be so lucky.

Unfortunately today was that day.

Sirius Black and Harry Potter fought side by side, the godfather and his godson. To a few people, who had known Sirius in his youth, the scene would have been tragically familiar but with some equally tragic differences. For one thing Sirius had become old, there were lines appearing on his face around the mouth that used to constantly hold a roguish smile and his eyes once bright with a look of inherent mischief now revealed pain and the shadows of the horrors of Askaban. The boy next to him with his untamed hair and spectacles was the spitting image of his father, it could just have easily have been Sirius and James battling together has they had so often done before; from petty duels at school against the Slytherins to when they joined the Order together, the inseparable duo united against Voldemort. It should have been perfect.

The Department of Mysteries was teeming with Death Eaters and members of the Order of the Phoenix, so bright jets of light were flying in all directions around them. Despite the imminent danger Sirius was alive with adrenaline, the weeks he had spent doing nothing trapped inside Grimmauld Place, the childhood home he despised, had left him feeling useless and highly strung. He shot hexes and jinxes with meticulous accuracy whilst defending Harry, although his godson was doing a decent job of protecting himself.

"Petrificus totalus" Harry yelled and his spell hit one a Death Eater who had been sending out a steady flow of unforgivable curses but was now lying incapacitated on the ground. Sirius felt a swell of pride, "Nice one James!" He shouted over the noise of the fight, sending a spell over his companion's shoulder which hit a particularly elusive Death Eater he had been trying to hex for some time now.

Sirius realised his mistake as soon as he'd said it and the nostalgia and regret pulled him from his adrenaline induced buzz. He grabbed Harry's arm and pulled him behind a statue to provide them with some cover from the continuing battle.

"Listen Harry, I want you to get out of here. Get the others and go, you've done more than enough already." Said Sirius, his voice low and urgent but Harry just shook his head.

"I'll leave when you leave." He told the older man, his stubbornness and disobedience reminded Sirius of James again but he forced the thought from his mind. Ghosts would not help them now.

"Harry please-"But before he could go on he was interrupted by a shrill, mocking voice and Sirius turned to see the formidable figure of Bellatrix Lestrange approaching their temporary hiding place.

"Sirius dear, come out and play" She crooned, her painted lips split into a malicious grin and Sirius felt a stab of contempt for his cousin. He sent Harry another pleading but his look of defiance remained and he had raised his wand in preparation of an attack, Sirius cursed the Potters' obstinate streak (not for the first time) and pushed the younger man behind him.

Sirius stepped forward his adrenaline kick returning for the ensuing duel. Anger and resentment had become common feelings for Sirius during recent years and his wand hand itched to curse the woman in front of him who he felt so much abhorrence for.

"Bellatrix," He said, trying to inject as much loathing into those three syllables as he could, whilst maintaining an air of mock politeness "So wonderful of you to join us." Sirius drew closer to Bellatrix, his eyes fixed on hers and she steered them into the middle of the hall where the black veil fluttered eerily in a non-existent wind.

"Wouldn't miss it for the world," Said Bellatrix, and she began circling slowly like a wolf hunting its prey, "You know I always kill for an opportunity to see you, cousin."

Sirius quickly tired of Bellatrix's taunts and as always resorted to action and violence as a way out. He fired a curse at her which she deflected carelessly.

"You're getting slow" She sneered. Sirius sent another spell at her, followed in quick succession with another but she deflected both easily whilst laughing derisively. Then she started to reciprocate, sending an onslaught of her own curses upon Sirius which he deflected and returned with equal gusto.

Bellatrix shrieked with irritation as Sirius continued to evade her attack and now it was Sirius' turn to laugh, "Come on, you can do better than that!" He yelled. Sirius felt reckless and alive for the first time in a long time. Probably for the first time since the Halloween of 1981.

He grinned as infuriatingly as possible and raised his wand above his head for another jinx, but before he had formed the spell in his head Sirius felt a sharp cold pain in his chest and he stumbled backwards.

The agony lasted only momentarily but the numb sensation that was spreading through his body disconcerted Sirius much more. He looked down to try and ascertain what damage had been done and saw that wispy tendrils had begun snaking over his torso. The veil he realised. A deafening roar was pulsing in his ears and it took Sirius a few seconds to understand what this meant – the pain, the numbness, the veil.

He was dying.

Sirius' first thought was for Harry. His godson had already lost so many loved ones and though Sirius believed he was a poor excuse for a guardian he did realise the paternity he had brought to Harry's life that the boy had never experienced before. James would have been a good father Sirius realised and the unfairness of it all made him sick. The selfless part of him wanted to stay for Harry.

Part of him embraced the coils that would around his chest. Their icy grip would provide a bitter refuge from the suffering in his life. He had always been an outcast and a hindrance. He had lost one of his best friends and been betrayed by another and spent 12 years having the happiness sucked out of him. The weak, tired part of him would be thankful for this painless escape.

And yet, another part of him didn't want to die. Who knew what lay beyond the veil and what the afterlife would bring. Did the afterlife even exist? Would he be alone? The unknown was daunting at the best of times but the unavoidable finality of the situation was terrifying. Sirius Black didn't want to die afraid.

Despite his preference on the circumstanceshowever, he could not escapethe inevitable. Sirius felt the pressure on his chest increase and he began to fall back into the archway but a strange sense of calm had overcome him. Distantly, he heard Harry scream as he realised what was happening. Sirius wanted to tell him that everything was going to be okay, he was fine, not even scared any more. But when he opened his mouth to give his reassurance no sound came out, he tried breathe but only managed to inhale the surreal smokiness of whatever lay behind the veil.

Sirius' body arched gracefully back into the mist, his hair long and unruly as always flying back and his eyes wide. He looked strangely youthful as he completed his swan dive into oblivion. Then without further ado, Sirius Black became another victim claimed by death.

Sirius Black. Padfoot. A Marauder. A godfather. A friend. A criminal. Was no more.

We've begun the tale of Sirius Black's life when it ends. After all the good and bad decisions, the pranks, the parties, the heartbreaks, the suffering and the memories.

We've opened, one may say, at the close.