When Sirius heard the news, he died.
Not literally, of course, for he was still technically alive.
His brain was functioning.
And his heart was working.
Just.
But he did, in fact, die in another, more tragic, way.
You see, when Sirius heard the news, his heart broke in two.
It was if a piece of his own soul had been cruelly torn from his body.
For gone was the first friend he had ever truly made.
Gone was the young man who welcomed him into his home when he had nowhere else to go.
Gone was the friend who became a brother.
Sirius cried.
Of that, he was not afraid to admit.
He had loved James Potter with all his heart.
In that perfect, unselfish way in which one loves a sibling.
And it pained him to learn that he was gone.
Along with his wife Lily, whom Sirius had also thought the world of.
Because now, even though he did have other friends who he could turn to, Sirius felt very much alone.
He had not felt this alone since he was ten.
Since he was a scared little boy, sitting in his house, the odd one out in a crowd of people who he despised deeply.
And now he was like that yet again.
Amongst people who could not understand who he truly was.
Brother-less and emotionless.
For Sirius did not see the point in feelings anymore.
He did not see the point in living without his brother.
So when Sirius heard the news, he wished that he had died too.