Disclaimer: I do not own anything of this all, sadly.
A/N: So, I wrote this at 1 AM, because that's when it came up in my head, and I was too lazy to reread all of it - there are probably some mistakes. Please review.
A loud rumble sounded through Godric's Hollow. The light of the giant flying motorcycle fell on a half-destroyed house, and with a thump, the motorcycle landed in front of the ruins.
"No," the man on the motorcycle whispered, upon seeing the house. He turned off the motor, and he stepped down with shaking legs. "James! Lily! Oh, Merlin, please…"
"Sirius?" A man – no, a giant – came towards him, leaving the ruins of the house in his enormous shadows. "Whatcha doin' here? Are you alrigh'?"
"Fine. Why are you here, Hagrid?" Sirius didn't even look at the giant. He could only stare at the house, the house where his best mate lived.
"Dumbledore's orders. Had to pick up young Harry. Gotta bring him to his aunt and uncle," Hagrid answered.
"So he's alive then?" The mention of his godson, one-year-old Harry Potter, brought a little bit of hope to Sirius, soon to be crushed again by the fact that he had to be taken away. "Wait – his aunt and uncle, you said? You mean Lily's sister?" When Hagrid nodded, Sirius continued. "You can't, Hagrid! Lily doesn't even speak to her sister anymore! Give him to me, Hagrid. I'm his Godfather; I'll take care of him. That's how Lily and James planned it."
"Can't, Sirius. Dumbledore told me to bring him to Surrey. Maybe ye'll be able to visit him sometime. I'm really sorry, but it'll be alrigh'. Ye'll see." Sirius stared into Hagrid's hairy, but friendly, face. Seeing that there was no hope, he sighed.
"Take my motorcycle, Hagrid. I won't need it anymore." Hagrid hesitated. "Take it. It'll be the easiest way to get Harry there." He didn't know why he was getting rid of the motorcycle – he had polished it just this morning, it was his life – he just knew he couldn't have it anymore.
"Alrigh', then. See ye 'round, Sirius." Hagrid slapped him on the back, and left, leaving a shaking Sirius behind.
With slow, terrified steps, Sirius neared the house, afraid of what he would find there. He opened the door he'd opened so many times before, not knowing what he would find, what he would see. All he knew was that it wouldn't be the smell of Lily's cooking, that it wouldn't be James' enthusiastic greeting, that it wouldn't be Harry's giggling.
Sirius stepped into the hall, the hall he had painted just two years ago, together with James. He looked over it, the stairs, and the spots of paint that were the result of a paint war, which occurred once they were done. Over the door to the living room - and the body that lay in front of it. Sirius' heart stopped.
There he laid, James Potter, his best mate, the boy – man now – who had accepted him into his home when his own didn't suffice anymore, who was his brother more so than his real brother ever would be. His hazel eyes were wide open; his glasses had slid off his face. He was still wearing the same clothes he had worn when Sirius had visited them earlier that day. His limbs were sprawled out, and it was a general position that Sirius had hoped to never, ever see his best mate in.
A fury started bubbling in Sirius' stomach, but before he could act on it, he ran up the stairs, to the nursery, that seemed to have exploded. He knew for sure that Lily Potter would have stayed with her son until she died, so he knew for sure that was where she would be, if she was-.
He carefully opened the door to the nursery, afraid the ceiling would fall down on him. Now that he thought about it, he wasn't sure why – he would have welcomed death.
A black cloak laid right next to another body; a body with red hair sprawled out on top of it, emerald green eyes wide open and terrified. There was no mistaking it: Lily Potter, once Lily Evans, the love of his best mate's life.
The black cloak was probably Voldemort's – what had happened to him? Why had Harry survived? What kind of magic did the kid possess that a wizard like Voldemort couldn't kill Harry Potter?
Suddenly, Sirius couldn't suppress the rage anymore. He had to avenge his best mate – an eye for an eye, it would only be fair. And he knew exactly where to get revenge.
It didn't take long to find Peter Pettigrew – the Potter's Secret Keeper, supposedly their friend. The traitor.
"You," Sirius snarled, pulling out his wand. The small man obviously jumped at the sound of the growl, but then he smirked. Peter turned toward Sirius, who was standing in a corner of the street. To Sirius' surprise, he didn't hold his wand out in front of him – instead, he held it behind his back.
"Lily and James, Sirius! How could you?" Peter yelled, and before Sirius could comprehend what had happened, the street behind Peter blew up. When Sirius tried to see where Peter had gone, all he saw was a finger, and a group of rats fleeing into the sewers. Understanding what Peter had done, something inside of Sirius broke. He started laughing. And laughing. And laughing.
He was still laughing when the Aurors came, still laughing when they brought him to the Ministry, still laughing when he was told he wouldn't get a trial, still laughing when they brought him to Azkaban. He laughed, and laughed, and laughed – until his cell door clanged shut behind him.
Hysterical sobs broke the silence that normally consumed Fort Azkaban, and Sirius couldn't help but wonder how it had all gone so horribly wrong.