Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.
I was in a bar when it happened. I was trying to chat someone up and then, suddenly, the knowledge was there in my mind; Jim and Lily live in Godric's Hollow. I got up and ran, ignoring the calls of "What's wrong?". I'd left my bike a block and a half away, and I cursed myself for wasting time by leaving it there. My mind ran in circles, and I kept reaching the horrifying conclusion that the Secret had been told. I tried to think of another way that the Fidelius could have broken but couldn't, no matter how desperately I tried. I could not believe that I had delivered them into Voldemort's hands. I got there, and half the house was a burned out shell. I fell to my knees and screamed my grief and loss and rage until my vocal cords began to shred. And then I heard an echo, a faint shriek, from the house. I got to my feet and ran into the house, refusing to look anywhere but dead ahead for fear of what I might see. I nearly flew up the stairs, ignoring the grating whine of boards beginning to give way and burst into the nursery. He was sitting in his crib, the tears pouring down his face mixing with blood from a gash on his forehead. I grabbed him and held him close.
"It'll be alright, Harry." I lied to him. "Your Uncle Sirius is here. I'll take care of you."