A/N: This has been rolling around in my head for a while, I'm pretty impatient and couldn't wait any longer. Please let me know what you think (in a kind way).
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.
October 31st, 1981
Sirius Black was not an idiot. Despite what many believe. And that's exactly how he likes it.
He was also on edge.
He always found satisfaction in puzzles, especially in strategizing a solution. It was a skill his father taught him when he was young. Before everything turned to shit.
"As my heir, you must be smarter than the masses," His father told him. "That doesn't mean reciting facts or memorizing history or even observing traditions. It means out maneuvering your opponent."
He vividly remembered every time his father called for him. There was a pattern in that too, in observation. His father never taught him about the concept of blood purity that his mother spouted like a leaky faucet. All instruction was about how to observe, how to strategize, how to think. When he refused to bow down and become a Death Eater, he continuously put these lessons to use. He needed to win if he wanted to live.
He noticed patterns from the self-proclaimed Dark Lord and his minions. Attacks weren't random, propaganda had a common thread, and Sirius learned that Voldemort wasn't who he portrayed himself to be.
He noticed how old, unspoken, traditions were whispered about again. They weren't spoken as a traditionalist wanting to return to the roots of Wizard-kind, rather of an outsider desperately wanting to belong. The fervidity and generally instability of those like his cousin told him exactly what kind of person Lord Voldemort was. He was a psychopath.
Once Prongs told him about his meeting with Dumbledore, about the prophecy, he knew his friends were in trouble. James and Lily, like the majority of the Wizarding world, wrote off the warning as nothing more than the ramblings of a madman. Sirius had tried for weeks to persuade them into taking extra precautions, but those two were as hard headed as they come. They called him superstitious, but Sirius wouldn't be swayed. He told the prophecy seriously, because a psychopath would take it seriously.
Hence, why he was on edge.
It was Samhain, a traditionalist observation. The first since the delivery of the prophecy. Sirius believed Voldemort would figure it as poetic day to attempt to thwart his undoing.
Which is why he was back in his London flat, instead of the grimy pub in Bulgaria the Order set him up with. Just in case.
He had his two-way mirror in the front pocket of his jeans, and made sure his floor was open for calls. He even enacted his Blood-Wards in case he needed a safe house quickly. He also planned on calling James the second the clock struck midnight, and Samhain had passed. Just to be sure.
He sat on his settee- the awful blue one that he and James had knicked from an alley in muggle London and Lily scourgified within an inch of its life- bouncing his leg rapidly, hands clasped in front of his face, elbows resting on his knees, planning and strategizing his nexts moves. Planning for multiple outcomes was crucial, his father taught him, it kept you ahead. But he couldn't bare the thought of a worst case scenario. He exhaled from his mouth sharply, trying to calm his nerves when he felt a violent shove against the wards. His eyes snapped open, vaulting off the couch, wand drawn and pointed at the door. His heart faltered for a split second when he felt the base wards shatter, his blood wards still intact, and his door flew open. His stomach sank.
"Lily?" He called softly to the hysterical redhead who burst in. A wailing baby clutched to her chest, blood dripping from her head, mingling with the tears running down her face. Her eyes were bloodshot, her clothes were dirty and torn, and she appeared to have a coating of grey and black powder all over. He raised his wand, "What did I say to you after Christmas dinner in 6th year?"
"You- you said you were afraid of being like them," she said vaguely between sobs. He calmed slightly, and in the next moment she had her palm pointed outward, directly towards his heart. He felt the crackling in the air around it as she asked, "What was my response?"
"That I wouldn't be anything other than what fate intended for me," he responded. He lowered his wand and choked out, "James?"
She gripped Harry tighter, allowing the sobs to completely overtake her as she slid down to the floor.
Sirius rushed to her, holding them both tightly while they cried. They stayed there for the remainder of the night, there was nothing else to do.
He wasn't prepared for this.