Author's Note: Okay, so I wrote this a looooong time ago (around the time the third movie came out), and the writing is frankly pretty horrible. But I thought I might as well post it up anyway. I like the concept, but I probably won't revamp it because it would take too much work '

Dead Sirius

'Black, Sirius!'

Sirius stepped reluctantly forward, set the Sorting Hat on his head, and perched on the stool. The pointed black hat slipped down over his eyes and all he could see was darkness. He waited, and then came a voice, old, leathery, and exactly what you would expect a hat to sound like.

'Ah, a good mind, I see.'

Sirius gripped the edge of the stool and waited.

'Hmm. Ravenclaw? No, no, wouldn't do, wouldn't do.'

He gritted his teeth and thought viciously, If you're going to put me in Slytherin, get on with it.

'Slytherin, eh? Ah, yes, I see your reasoning. Let me see...' The Sorting Hat's mouth opened as a rip in the brim, and shouted for all those present to hear, 'GRYFFINDOR!'

Stunned, it was all Sirius could do to pull the tattered old hat off his head, set it back on the stool, and stumble over to the table that was clapping for him. He sank onto a bench and stared dazedly up at the Hat as it sorted through the other first-years. It had put him in Gryffindor. Gryffindor! Sirius had been so sure that he would end up in Slytherin. The Blacks had always been Slytherins, ever since the founding of Hogwarts. Their very name suggested it. A slow smile found its way onto Sirius's face. He was in Gryffindor.

But suddenly a thought occured to him as the Sorting Hat shouted out 'GRYFFINDOR!' and a gangly, black-haired boy scurried over to the Gryffindor table. Sirius groaned. 'Mum's going to kill me.'

'What's up?' Remus asked, his brow furrowing.

Sirius's breath caught in excitement. They stood in a corner of the courtyard during break, slightly apart from any of the other groups. James glanced in all directions to be sure they could not be overheard, and then turned back to Remus. A sudden grin covered his features. 'Remus, I do believe we have a solution to your...furry little problem.'

Remus's eyes narrowed suspiciously. 'What do you mean?'

'You tell him, Sirius.'

Sirius grinned as well, and said casually, 'Well, it's like this: we're Animagi.'

For a moment, Remus stared back blankly. 'You're pulling my leg.'

James shook his head with a wide grin. 'If it weren't for all these people, we'd prove it to you now.'

Sirius suddenly had an idea. 'Peter can prove it. He's small enough.'

James brightened instantly. 'Yeah, Peter, show us.'

Peter's face turned bright red as the others turned expectantly to him, and his eyes darted around as though for an escape. But they were waiting, so he took a deep breath and began to transform. In barely two seconds, a small grubby rat stood where their friend had been. Remus could only gape as Peter hastily sprouted up as a human once more, flushed with his success.

Finally Remus found his voice. 'But...why? You could have been expelled! You could have been arrested! Animagi are supposed to be registered!'

James snorted. 'They won't find out! We'll be careful.'

'We thought you must be pretty lonely in that old shack,' Sirius added. 'So we figured if we can't be with you as humans, we'll stay with you as animals.'

Remus couldn't keep back a smile. 'Thanks, Sirius.'

'Is my tie straight?' James asked for the fifth time.

'Yes,' Sirius replied patiently.

'And my hair? How's it look?'

Sirius grinned. 'Terrible.'

James sighed and tried to flatten his unkempt black hair, but it stubbornly refused to comply. Finally, he gave up and looked anxiously down the aisle. 'She's late.'

'She's not late, James,' Sirius said, checking his watch.

'Well, what's taking her so long?'

'James, this is how it's supposed to be. See, the organist's starting.'

But James no longer heard him. At that moment, the doors of the church opened and in floated a young woman. She had been aptly named; wearing the flowing white dress, she looked like a white flower floating along in a gentle stream.

Sirius stood by James and watched the proceedings with a smile on his face. Just a few years ago, no one who knew them would have thought Lily Evans would ever accept James Potter's proposal. Yet now...Just look at them! Lily's bright green eyes sparkled as James slid a diamond ring on her finger. Sirius was close enough to feel James trembling with suppressed joy. And as James leaned down to kiss her lightly on the lips, Sirius felt like cheering.

The smile and laugh never faded from his face that entire day. Remus took dozens of photos, promising to send them by owl as soon as they were developed. There was cake and punch, treacle tarts and puddings of every variety. James and Lily danced at least ten times. The smile never faded, not even when the day was done and he strode happily over to his motorbike.

A shout brought him up short. 'Padfoot!'

Sirius turned around. It was James and Lily, preparing to Disapparate to their new home. In these dangerous times, newlyweds were forced to dispense with the customary honeymoon.

'Thanks for coming,' James said quietly.

Sirius grinned as he swung a leg over his motorbike. 'Prongs, I wouldn't have missed it for the world.' With a laugh, he gunned the motor and his flying vehicle roared off into the distant sky.

'Cute little tyke, isn't he?' Sirius beamed down at the newborn baby, lying asleep in his arms. He looked up at Lily. 'What's his name?'

'Harry,' she replied. 'I've always liked that name.'

'Harry,' he mused. 'Harry Potter. Has a ring to it, doesn't it?'

He handed small Harry back to his mother, who moved into the other room to lay him back in his cradle. James turned from gazing meditatively out the window. 'I've a favor to ask, Padfoot,' he said.

'What is it?'

'Well...it's like this. Being in the Order and everything, life can be rather...surprising, shall we say.' He awkwardly shifted his weight from one foot to the other. 'If anything were to happen to us...'

'Nothing will happen,' Sirius cut in harshly, but the next moment he was grinning again. 'But I'll take care of your son. I promise.'

James's hazel eyes burned with gratitude. 'Thank you, Sirius. It means a lot to us.'

Sirius clapped a hand on his friend's shoulder. 'What're friends for, if not to look out for each other?'

'What?' James whispered, his face white, clutching Lily's hand.

'He's after you,' Dumbledore repeated carefully. 'You must go into hiding - immediately. It won't be long before he gets word of where you live.'

Lily bit her lip. 'How can we hide from him? Others tried...and failed.'

'The Fidelius Charm,' Dumbledore replied, gazing at them over his half-moon spectacles. 'You must choose a Secret-Keeper. I, for one, volunteer.'

Sirius found himself on his feet. 'No. I'll do it,' he announced. He saw the slightest of frowns appear between Dumbledore's eyes, but shifted his gaze to look at James.

For a long moment, the two friends stared into each other's eyes. 'You'll be in great danger,' James finally said.

'Better my dead body than yours.'

Slowly, reluctantly, James nodded. 'All right.'

'Peter? Peter!' Sirius rushed through the rooms of Peter's hiding place. But he was nowhere to be found. Nothing was smashed or overturned; everything was in its place. Something just didn't smell right. Sirius slowly turned around on the spot, wondering where Peter could have gone. And suddenly it hit him. 'No!' He began to run.

Sirius could see the damage from the sky, as he brought his flying motorbike steadily closer to the land. He leapt off almost before it touched the ground, and raced for the house. But it was too late; he could tell. He skidded to a halt directly before the Potters' house. All the glass in the windows was shattered, the front door hung off its hinges, and the roof was smashed in.

Sirius began to tremble. His tongue stuck to the roof of his dry mouth. They were gone. Gone! He had been too late. There was nothing he could do to bring them back. He bowed his head and hugged his arms close to his chest. Though it was a relatively warm night, he was as cold inside as if it had been snowing. A sob forced its way out of his throat, and he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to keep back the tears.

A muffled crash from the house brought Sirius back to the present. A gigantic hand curled around the lopsided door and broke it off. The door fell with a clatter onto the front steps, and Hagrid squeezed through the doorframe. He held a bundle of cloths in his arms, and as he drew nearer, Sirius could see that it was a baby. The Potters' baby. James's son. Harry.

'Hagrid,' Sirius said brokenly as the giant man thumped closer. But a lump stuck in his throat and he could say no more.

Hagrid came to a halt before him, looking down on him with compassion in his gigantic black eyes.

Sirius looked back down at his feet. A shiver ran through him, and tears flowed down his face faster than he could count. He covered his face with his hands. James was gone, and all that was left was a gaping emptiness in his heart. Suddenly, a great weight settled onto one shoulder. He looked up and saw Hagrid's face close to his.

'I know,' he said gruffly. 'I know how yeh feel. Lily and James...gone...' His voice began to wobble. 'Bu' they would've wanted ter go like that, fightin' You-Know-Who. Protectin' their son. Poor bloke.'

Sirius ran his sleeve over his eyes and looked at the tiny face peeping out of the blankets. Lily's green eyes blinked inquisitively out of his round face. A thin red cut, shaped like a lightning bolt, was flanked on his forehead by locks of jet-black hair. 'Give Harry to me, Hagrid,' he said in a heavy voice. 'I'm his godfather, I'll look after him.'

Hagrid took his heavy hand off Sirius's shoulder. 'Sorry, Black, can' do that. I've had me orders from Dumbledore himself. Harry's ter go off ter live with his aunt and uncle.'

'But I'm his godfather!' Sirius protested. 'He's my responsibility! I can give him a better home than those Muggle relations of his!'

'Sorry, Black,' Hagrid said again. 'But Dumbledore says ter get Harry ter his aunt and uncle's place, soon as possible.'

'Hagrid, I...' Sirius trailed off. Now he saw it: Dumbledore suspected him. Why else would he have volunteered to become the Potters' Secret-Keeper? Why else would he have young Harry live with Muggles, rather than his wizard godfather? Slowly, he nodded. 'All right. Use my motorbike. It'll get you there faster. I won't need it any more.'

Hagrid nodded his thanks and made for the motorbike. Sirius turned back to look at the house. He could hear the roar of the engine behind him, as Hagrid lifted off into the sky. But Sirius didn't move. He had to see them. Just one last time.

Slowly, he stepped into the front hallway. Quite unlike Peter's hiding place, overturned chairs and tables littered the floor, the curtains were ripped, and the large mirror that usually hung on the wall was lying shattered on the ground. Glass crunched under his feet as he strode into the front room. Scorch marks dotted the walls. A path had been cleared through the rubble, cleared by something heavy dragged across the ground. At the end of this pathway, half propped up against an overturned table, lay a body. Sirius's knees crashed to the ground beside it. Oblivious to the glass cutting into his knees, he reached out a hand and touched the cheek. It was cold, like ice. The hazel eyes stared blankly up at him. Shaking with sobs, Sirius clasped James's dead body to his chest. He buried his face in the unruly black hair, and wept and wept and wept.

He never knew how long he stayed there, weeping over his best friend's body. But finally he roused himself, laid James flat on the ground, and closed his eyelids. Sirius staggered to his feet and made his way numbly up the stairs, following the path of destruction that spoke of Voldemort's passing. It led into the bedroom, but Sirius came to a halt in the doorway. Lily lay there, her red hair strewn over her face. One arm was linked loosely about a bar of Harry's playpen. The other was stretched out as though in one last, desperate plea. Sirius shivered. This whole house spoke of death, sudden and terrifying. Harry would never know his parents. He would never know what great wizards they were. And all because of one man...

Rage filled Sirius's mind. 'Ready or not, Wormtail,' he snarled. 'Here I come.'

'Lily and James, Sirius! How could you?'

Sirius couldn't choke out the fury pounding against his eyes. With an animal-like snarl, he whipped out his wand and started for Peter.

But Peter was faster. A loud bang echoed around the street. The houses on either side exploded. Magic, flying glass, and falling rubble killed almost all the Muggles in the entire street. Sirius hastily cast the Shield Charm, and all the destruction swerved away from him, leaving him unscathed. As the smoke cleared, a bald tail slipped away into the sewers below. Sirius turned back to where Peter had been standing. A few scorched rags of his robes were scattered about, and off to one side lay...

'A finger,' Sirius muttered to himself. 'Now they'll believe I killed you.' He tipped back his head and laughed, loud and long. Wasn't it ironic? The man who had caused the Potters' death would be considered dead himself, killed by the one man who could have prevented all this from happening. He did deserve to go to Azkaban, he decided, as Ministry officials began to Apparate all about him. He had misjudged Peter, and because of it, his best friends were now dead.

Ministry wizards shackled his arms and led him off to Azkaban, off to the magical prison where no one could escape. And as he was dragged away, Sirius only laughed.

'Please, Dumbledore. Believe me.'

Dumbledore nodded gravely. 'I do. Forgive me for suspecting you. I should have seen through Pettigrew all along.'

'He gave us all the slip,' Sirius growled. 'I don't hold it against you.'

Dumbledore rose, his robes swishing about. 'There is not much time. Cornelius will soon be back. Yet you may still have a chance. Wait here.' With that, he swept out of the room, the lock clicking shut after him.

Sirius sat back heavily in his chair. Another chance? Not likely. The Minister would never give him up that easily. He ran a hand over his face. So much had happened in the past few hours! He had come face-to-face with three old school friends he had never expected to see again. He had convinced five people that he was innocent. And he had spoken for the first time with his godson. Harry looked exactly like James. Everything but the eyes. Hearing Harry's accusations was worse than hearing it from anyone else, because it was as though his best friend was shouting at him. It was as though James was blaming him for his death.

Suddenly there came a sharp tap at the window behind him. He whirled around, leaping out of his chair, and his jaw dropped. There, rising and falling on the back of a great grey Hippogriff, sat Harry and Hermione, looking in at him. He rushed to the window and tugged at it, but it was locked. Hermione pulled out her wand and motioned him back, then pointed her wand at the lock. It sprang open and Sirius rushed forward again. 'How...how...?'

'Get on,' Harry cut in urgently. 'There's not much time. You've got to get out of here - the Dementors are coming. Macnair's gone to get them.'

Sirius poked himself to make sure he wasn't dreaming, and pulled himself through the window. He swung one lanky leg over the Hippogriff's side, just as he used to with his flying motorbike, and found himself holding onto the back of Hermione's robes. Harry murmured to their mount and they rose above the roof of the castle. It felt wonderful to be flying again. He hadn't been able to for twelve years. Now memories of flying his motorbike rushed back to him as they headed for West Tower. Soon - too soon - the Hippogriff's hooves and talons were clattering down onto the tower, and the two children were sliding off in front of him. Sirius slid forward and clutched the rope that was used as reins. But he couldn't take his eyes off Harry.

'Sirius, you'd better go, quick,' Harry said. 'They'll reach Flitwick's office any moment, they'll find out you've gone.'

But Sirius could barely think of that now, dazed as he was. 'What happened to the other boy? Ron?'

'He's going to be OK,' Harry replied, his face screwed up in anxiety. 'He's still out of it, but Madam Pomfrey says she'll be able to make him better. Quick - go!'

Sirius wondered what difficulties the two of them must have had to go through to rescue him, with the Dementors lurking about and the Minister there as well. 'How can I ever thank -'

'GO!' Harry and Hermione cried earnestly.

Sirius wheeled the Hippogriff around, and took one last, longing look at his godson. 'We'll see each other again. You are...truly your father's son, Harry...' He squeezed the Hippogriff's sides and they shot up into the air. Sirius didn't look back. He couldn't. His heart weighed too heavily in his chest, knowing he had deserted perhaps the only person in the world who could truly understand him. He turned his gaze to the full moon and repeated his promise. 'Yes, Harry, we shall see each other again.'

'Let's go, then,' Sirius urged, clapping Harry on the shoulder. They hurried up the stairs to the front hall, where dozens of people milled about, all talking at once. Today the children were returning to Hogwarts after their Christmas break. Sirius wished they could stay forever, but of course they had to get back to school. Grimmauld Place would definitely be quieter without the noisy Weasleys running all over the place. But Sirius rather liked the noise, and all the red heads bobbing about.

Admit it, he snarled to himself. You're lonely.

Well, who wouldn't be, with only Buckbeak and Kreacher for company? he retaliated.

You miss James. The voice in the back of his head was soft, but it cut deeper than the loudest shout or the most stinging insult. You want Harry to be just like him. But he can't be. You know he can't. Just because he looks exactly like his father doesn't mean he's the same person. Harry has to be his own man. You can't tell him what to be. You aren't his father.

I'm his godfather! he protested. Isn't that good enough? I'm all he has!

That may be so, but he won't thank you for trying to rule his life.

Sirius knew the voice was right. Harry had to live his own life. He wasn't James, nor would he ever be. Sirius looked on as Molly and Arthur each said their farewells. Harry seemed distracted, eager to get back to Hogwarts. He has to live his own life.

James turned around and met his gaze with Lily's vivid eyes. Sirius blinked. He has to live his own life. James opened his mouth to speak, to bid him farewell, to make some fleeting joke to ease the pain of their parting. He has to live his own life.

Sirius hugged him tight before he could speak a word. James's rebellious black hair tickled his face, but he hardly cared. James hugged him back. They were more than friends. They were brothers. He has to live his own life. Sirius could feel the scar on James's forehead, pressed close against his cheek. He has to live his own life. James was itching to go; he never had liked long farewells. Sirius broke their embrace and clapped his hand on James's shoulder. There stood James, with Lily's eyes and a lightning-bolt scar on his forehead. He has to live his own life.

'Take care of yourself, Harry.'

The cold stone room stuttered back into focus. Everything seemed frozen - Bellatrix, in the very act of cursing him; Dumbledore, standing in the middle of the room, occupied with the other Death Eaters; the various members of the Order scattered around the room...Yet more frozen than any other, it seemed, was the shocked, gaping form of his godson, halfway up the great stone steps.

Their eyes connected, even across this distance. Sirius wanted to lay his hand upon the boy's shoulder, to tell him it was all right. But his life was ebbing away, and he knew he had scant seconds left before it was all over. Those few seconds stretched into hours, into lifetimes. Musings he had long held at bay now came floating to the top of his mind. He now had all the time in the world to consider them.

How would Harry take this? How would he cope? He was well acquainted with death, but he had never experienced the death of someone he had been close to for many years. Sirius wondered how James would have reacted. Yet that was a question he had no answer for.

James...James! He would see James very soon. How he had longed, these past fourteen years, to see his old friend's face! It was some consolation to see Harry, similar as they were. But nothing could substitute for the real thing, the actual James. He longed to look into James's hazel eyes and tell him how great his son was. He longed to see his friend beaming with pride when he heard those words. He longed to see the tears sparkling in Lily's vivid green eyes.

He wanted to stay, to watch Harry grow up. But he knew this was impossible. His time had come. Death was calling his name. Harry would have to learn to live without him. He could not be everything the boy needed, much as he wished it were so. He could not be father, mother, brother, and friend, not when he was forever destined to be parted from Harry. You will have to find others, he whispered in his mind to Harry. Another father, another mother. Another family. He knew he would stay in Harry's heart, forever. There was no fear of his being forgotten. He had enjoyed his duty as a godfather while it lasted. Harry was so different from his father! Perhaps some could not see it, but he, Sirius Black, had. Harry was not his father. Harry was not James. He has to live his own life.

And as he gazed on his best friend's son one last time, the curtain fell on Sirius Black's life.

Author's Note: You might be wondering what in the world this one-shot's supposed to be. Well, it's not just a conglomeration of short little scenes slapped haphazardly together. It's Sirius's life flashing before his eyes, right as Bellatrix Lestrange's curse hits him in the chest. This whole thing was something of an experiment for me; I've never even READ a one-shot that's the main character's life flashing before their eyes. Another part of the experiment is the second to last scene, where Sirius keeps on saying He has to live his own life. This was the first time I had to write about how someone looks and acts almost exactly like his father, except for minor differences.