The night was silent in the aftermath of the shocking ordeal that night in Godric's Hollow.
Sirius cried shamelessly, tears running down his face, surveying the world with a new kind of perspective now that Lily and James were gone.
Were there more clouds, now that his best friend was gone? Were the stars less bright, and more subdued, now that little Harry Potter was an orphan? Was everything darker, now that the world was less two great human beings?
Sirius wandered through the ruins of their house, picking up fragments of china he'd eaten off of a thousand times, photographs he'd taken, or ones he was in, and bits of furniture he'd lounged on a hundred million days.
A tall wide giant with a bushy beard picked his way through the rubble and laid a hand on skinny young sad Sirius Black's shoulder in a show of his empathy.
'Hagrid,' Sirius said dully, not even slightly embarrassed about his sniffling and sobbing.
Hagrid shuffled around the rubble toward the young man, his beetle eyes crinkled up, his lips pursed for fear he might start wailing in the street. In his arms he held a little bundle of warmth.
Harry Potter. The Boy Who Lived.
Sirius surveyed his godson, his eyes shining with adoration. He didn't know much about babies, but as far as babies went, he thought this one was pretty awesome. 'Hi, Harry,' he said quietly. 'I don't know about you, but the last time I saw you, I didn't think we'd meet again like this.'
Harry looked up at him dolefully, his baby eyes seeming to understand too much.
Sirius who was wiping his eyes on the back of his hand, cursed himself. Voldemort was gone! He should be happy! In the long run, two more people lost shouldn't be such a big deal.
But on the other hand, Sirius could not be convinced. Lily and James were gone. Gone. Because they were so close, it seemed like a monumental loss, and Sirius couldn't find the balance between celebratory and grieving.
Sirius reached out with a shaking hand and stroked the scar on the child's forehead.