Hello lovelies!
Only a few more chapters left until we get to part III. I know some people are getting tired of the POV's, but I have a plan...so I'm not going to cut any of them out cause they are all important imo. If you get me. And if you don't want to read anymore of the POV's, then part III starts at chapter 189. Regardless, I hope you do continue to enjoy the POV's.
Please leave a review and let me know what you think x
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Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling, and only the storyline and any OC's belong to me.
"We are all broken,
that's how the light gets in."
- Ernest Hemingway
The war was horrific. It drained him more than he could have ever anticipated.
There was one constant in Sirius's life; the Potters. Whenever he wasn't at work, Sirius was at the cottage in Godric's Hollow. Although, he occasionally stayed in his flat in Diagon Alley that he shared with Peter.
Mad-Eye's suspicious nature was rubbing off on him, and Sirius grew distrustful of most people. Unfortunately, Remus made the list since he was gone for months at a time, claiming he was with the werewolf packs, but something was off about him whenever they crossed paths. Sirius detested the feeling, but he couldn't shake it.
Order missions were exhausting, gruelling, and not everyone returned. The body count on both sides kept growing, and growing, and growing.
Lily and James were antsy, frustrated beyond relief: they couldn't assist in any shape or form, they couldn't even leave their house. The house in Godric's Hollow was 'a comfy prison' as Lily had bitterly dubbed it with a tight smile on her face.
James and Sirius often sat on the porch alone, late at night. One clear, summer night when the stars twinkled and bashfully whispered their secrets, James confessed how powerless he felt. "I understand that we don't have a choice…but I often feel like I am breathing and going through the motions, but not living."
Sirius hadn't said a word. There wasn't anything he could say, so the two men sat in relative silence and occasionally James would expound on his feelings. Sirius listened, because that's what his best mate needed.
"After this war is over, we should all leave England for a while. Go live somewhere far away."
"We could travel like gypsies for a while. Become nomadic. Stay places when it suited us, and leave when we want to."
"I just feel so trapped, Pads. My thoughts are tripping over themselves, and my mind goes dark places in the middle of the night. Truthfully, Lily, Harry, you and Remus are the only thing keeping me sane."
They were left in lurch over Remus's fate and welfare whenever he left to go spy on the werewolf packs. Sometimes he wrote, but his letters were infrequent, and short. The disconnect between them had never felt greater, and Sirius mourned for this friend across the chasm that had been unwittingly created.
The war trod on. Death engulfed them. Deaths of people they knew, of people whose names rung a bell, and of people they'd never even heard of.
News came of Walburga's passing, and Sirius was numb to the loss. He found out three weeks after she died; she'd passed away in the ancestral home she prided above all else. Moody passed him the case file with the full investigative report, and he refused to look at it. He didn't want to know how she died. For some reason he was peeved at himself for not feeling anything, but he didn't know why that bothered him.
Sirius mulled it over, and considered that perhaps it was all his pent-up frustration leaking through, or he'd turned it inwards for an arbitrary reason. Or, maybe, he did care, and that was something he would never willingly admit.
Some days, Sirius wondered if there was a point to any of the suffering they were enduring. On those days, he avoided leaving the flat in Diagon Alley. He half expected Death Eaters to storm the door at any moment, but they never did. He would drink Firewhisky till his head spun and his limbs went numb. It was a strange state of limbo where he was numb, yet he felt everything.
(Sirius'd added intricate, complex layers of wards to the flat, and if anyone was able to get through them—and they wished to harm him—he might welcome it at this point.)
Sometimes he woke up, and swore there were slender fingers combing his hair back, and he saw a single hazel eye, partially covered by a shock of white hair, and a pretty smile. He felt lips moving against his skin, whispering sweet nothings. Then, he opened his eyes and he was alone.
Sirius had a hard time sleeping. Prickly nettles rolled across his skin as he tried to sleep, keeping him painfully awake for hours. Whenever he did manage to drift off, he would wake up in the dead of night, in a cold sweat, hair sticking to his forehead and his nape. Sirius's limbs would be tightly wound up in his bedsheets from thrashing in his unconscious state.
The sensation of someone running their fingers through his hair would return. If he closed his eyes in the darkness—chest heaving as he tried to wrassle his heart rate into submission—their fingers grew more tangible, and it was that small comfort that tugged him back to sleep.
There were pieces of him missing, their loss was devastating, but there was no reason for it. It was maddening. He craved those pieces so fervently, that it hollowed out a vast hole in his chest. He needed to find the puzzle pieces and try to shove them back into place.
Sirius's role as an Auror was reduced significantly so he could focus on Order missions. His Commander-in-Chief hastily switched from Mad-Eye to Dumbledore in a matter of days. Dumbledore's demands were top priority. Sirius went where he was told. On more than one occasion he ended up at Godric's Hollow, bleeding and in utter agony as Lily and James patched him up on their living room carpet.
There was a lull between missions and Sirius found himself getting pissed in a new muggle bar each night. Often he would drink so much that the next morning he'd have a pounding headache. Sirius knew something had to change when he woke up in strange environs, and the girl's eyes weren't hazel brown like he originally thought they were. The stench of their nightly activities had overwhelmed him in the light of day. Shame and guilt were leaden balls rolling around his gut.
It would suffice to say, he got drunk in the comfort of his own home from then on.
One Saturday, Sirius went over to Godric's Hollow in the early morning hours, and he found James in the kitchen. He was bent over, his forearms resting on the lip of the sink, and he was rolling his golden snitch between his fingers. His head was bowed.
Sirius went over, and cautiously whispered James's name, his hand hovering over his friend's back. James bolted upright, and to his left; away from his friend. James relaxed when he noticed who it was, but there was a skittishness to the way he held himself.
"What's going on, Prongs? Everything okay?"
"Something has been stolen away from us, Pads. Something vital that's left me bereft and confused. Like a phantom limb, it's been chopped off, but it's still there."
Sirius understood what James meant. They all felt it, even thought they couldn't elucidate to one another the source of their hollowness.
Thus, Harry's first year passed faster than they'd imagined it would. The War was in full swing. At some point, Remus came back to stay for good. Sirius strolled into the living room and found him finger-painting on a large piece of paper with James and Harry. It was a strange sight after not having seen him for months.
Remus's face was gaunt, dark smudges were under his eyes. Sirius could see how thin he'd gotten, as the jumper that used to fit him nicely was now having off his frame. Remus looked up, unsurprised by Sirius's entrance due to his heightened senses, and he smiled softly. The man rose, the corners of his eyes crinkling with happiness as he strode over to Sirius. Sirius was rooted to the spot.
Sirius caught sight of Remus's eyes before the man drew his friend in for an embrace; they were weary and burdened with fatigue that ran down to his core.
James, Remus, and Sirius; the three Marauders reunited once more. No one had really heard from their fourth member in months. When they did, his correspondence was short and concise; there wasn't any emotional attachment to the words.
Remus and Sirius had to learn how to act around one another again. Despite the distance between them, Remus decided to make sure Sirius didn't drink himself to death. To which, Sirius giddily exclaimed—drunk off his arse—that that was next to impossible. (Death via alcohol poisoning was an extremely difficult feat for wizarding kind.)
"Not for lack of trying on your part." Remus replied.
The Marauders were reunited for Harry's first birthday celebration, and they were all so glad that he was there, they didn't realise he was acting strangely. Peter looked uncomfortable when Lily hugged him, and there was no affection or tenderness in his demeanor as he took a turn holding the birthday boy. Harry seemed to sense that as he burst into tears until Sirius scooped him from Peter's arms.
"He just needs to get used to you. Don't worry about it, Pete. You two will be good friends in no time," James said.
Peter went on as many Order missions as he could, mostly dangerous ones. The next time they saw him it was October, more specifically, October Seventeenth; Sirius's birthday. It was his last good day for a long, bleak and hopeless time.
Sirius and Remus were mending their relationship, and they were just getting the hang of being around one another when Sirius's birthday arrived. The war had changed both of them, but fundamentally they were still them. However, when they looked at each other, they knew they were not the boys they used to be.
James and Lily were playfully bickering over who would cut Sirius's cake with him, gently elbowing each other with massive grins on their faces. Remus and Harry were on the floor with some wax crayons and a large sheet of paper. Remus was drawing, and Harry was watching him, mesmerised.
Peter arrived four hours late—well after the cake had been cut, and James was in the kitchen cleaning up dishes—with a flimsy excuse that no one paid much attention to. They were just happy to have him there.
The house was soon filled to the brim with laughter. It was like old times. An errant thought sprinted through Sirius's mind, mid-laugh, as he lifted Harry up into the air. Not exactly like old times. Then it was louder, because they were here. Sirius didn't get a chance to mull over his thoughts, and who they were before Harry's high-pitched giggling brought him back to reality.
Harry Potter was Sirius's hope. They waded through all the death, frustration, pain and suffering the War had wrought, towards the beacon of a brighter future; Harry. There was more ahead, more to life on the horizon. Harry was a concrete reason to continue fighting.
Sirius had been fighting for his friends—his family—but he had started to get bogged down in all the loss, and he'd wondered if he could carry on. But Harry'd rekindled the flames within his heart. Sirius felt more like himself, like everything wasn't hopeless.
Everything was finally good again. Although, the perpetual thought that something was missing pressed in on Sirius's mind. Sirius ignored it, preferring to focus on Harry, and spending as much time with him as possible.
A fortnight later, on Saturday, October thirty-first, Sirius life changed forever. Halloween had always been a night for mischief, raucous parties, and celebration for the Marauders. That night, that was cruelly ripped away from them forevermore.
Sirius felt the loss of his bonds in his chest. A hand pierced through his chest, its sharp fingers gripping the strings of his bonds, curling them around its hand before snapping them viciously. A pained, animalistic cry roared from Sirius's mouth and he fell to his knees in his flat.
(Sirius left his room, and searched the flat for Peter, but he was nowhere to be found. Most of his things had been cleared out as well. Fear drove his subsequent movements.)
Sirius's next moments were a blur. He blinked and he was standing on the front stoop of James and Lily's house in Godric's Hollow. His hand was outstretched towards the front door—which was hanging off its hinges. The interior was plunged in darkness. There was hardly any moonlight tonight, the world was black.
Fear constricted his heart as he trepidatiously entered the house. He thought his first encounter with Voldemort had given him a taste of real fear, however that paled in comparison to the feeling currently seeded in Sirius's chest. The air was thin, and he was suffocating, gasping for oxygen as he crossed over the threshold.
Sirius whimpered as he saw James's body strewn awkwardly to the side in the Foyer. Bits and pieces of rubble surrounded him. Half of the house had collapsed in on itself. Sirius can't breathe.
"No. Prongs. No, no, n— no. Not you. I can't do this without you," Sirius said shakily as he crept over to his best mate's still body. Sirius slid onto his knees, his hands hovering over James. "PRONGS!"
James's lips were turned upwards, as if he'd died smiling. Sirius choked on a sob as he rested his hands on James's chest. There was none of his usual warmth, and Sirius clutched fistfuls of James's shirt. Sirius caught sight of James's hands, they were empty, and his wand was nowhere in sight. However, there were tiny flecks of blue and red paint on his fingertips. Harry's favourite pastime as of late was fingerpainting.
Sirius lowered his forehead onto his hands, and he wept. Prongs was dead.
All hope was lost, until it wasn't, until out of the darkness came soft cries from upstairs. Harry.
Sirius pulled back to look at his best mate one final time, and relinquished his hold on him. Sirius scrambled to his feet, and bolted for the mostly intact staircase.
Sirius reached the open door to Harry's bedroom, and his knees buckled under him at what he saw. He managed to catch himself against the doorframe. Lily was lying on her side, as if she'd jumped in front of Harry's crib, her crimson hair covered her face and spread out across the cream carpet.
"Lilypad?" Sirius whispered hollowly, half expecting her to get up and smile at him. When she didn't, and the room's coldness clawed at his senses, he snapped back to reality. Harry was sitting upright in his crib, tears streaming down his face, his hands raised to his crib bars. He'd quieted when he saw his Godfather.
As Sirius made his way across the room, he spotted another body shrouded in a dark cloak, but he couldn't make out who it was properly, and Sirius didn't give it a second look. The small boy in the crib was his priority.
Sirius bent down beside Lily, shifted enough of her hair to press his fingers to her neck, and when he failed to find a pulse, his breath wobbled out of him as he tried to steady himself. He couldn't break down right now, Harry needed him.
Harry began crying again. Sirius gave Lily's body a wide berth as he approached the crib from the side, bent over the top rail, and scooped the boy into his arms. Sirius couldn't bear to get close to the witch's body again, because if he did, he knew he would lose it. Sirius felt oddly numb.
"It's okay, Harry. Shh, Little Fawn," Sirius said, rocking the boy back and forth whilst rubbing his back. Sirius quietly walked out of the room. He paused in the doorway. A flash of laughter rebounded through his head; Lily's laughter. Sirius and Lily twirling around the kitchen, dancing to Bowie in between cooking breakfast.
"Uncle Sirius is going to keep you safe," Sirius whispered to Harry when Lily wasn't paying attention. "So, I can't be the secret keeper. Otherwise, you won't be safe."
Sirius closed his eyes and was lost in a memory.
Sirius rounded the corner, and found James trying to coax a teetering Lily down off of one of the stone handrails on either side of the moving stairs.
Lily giggled, her mouth twisted to the side with determination. She turned her—now bare—feet inwards towards the stairs, and twisted her upper body to face the bottom of the stairs, and before anyone could say or do anything, she launched herself forwards, and somehow skated down the handrail and flipped off the end onto the landing. Without a scratch.
Lily spun around to look up at them, her hands thrust upwards and with immense pride she bellowed, "did you fucking SEE that?!"
At some point, a switch flicked back on inside of James, his body unstuck, and his limbs kicked into action once more; he rushed down the stairs, taking them two at a time. Lily threw herself at him when he reached the bottom, her feet digging into him as she attempted to scale his body. James didn't know what to do with his hands, leaving one to rest on her waist in some effort to support her weight.
"Mate, she is trying to climb you like she's Jack and you're the beanstalk." Sirius commented.
Sirius snapped back to the present when Harry's fingers touched his face. The boy was still crying, and squirming. He was calling out, "Mummy," and it broke Sirius's heart.
They would never have breakfast together again. Prongs would never stumble down the stairs half-asleep again. James would be rubbing his face, his hair everywhere. He'd then wrap his arms around Lily from behind, and pepper the side of her head with kisses. She would laugh, protesting that she was cooking, but would melt backwards into him anyways; her nose crinkled in happiness.
A part of Sirius died in that moment, a section of his soul was ripped away.
"It's okay, Little Fawn. We're going to take you somewhere safe," Sirius promised, rubbing the boy's back, holding him close as they made their way back through the grim, dark house. The stench of dark magic had latched onto everything.
The strangest sight greeted Sirius when he stepped outside. Hagrid was outside the gate, with Sirius's motorcycle behind him, the engine purring. Sirius had lent it to the Half-giant a couple weeks ago.
"Sirius?"
"Hagrid? What are you doing here?"
"Dumbledore sent me. Said the Fidelus charm was lifted."
Dumbledore sent Hagrid cause the Fidelus charm was…lifted. Sirius's thoughts whirred in a sickening circle. "Are you sure those were his exact words?" If they were, then Sirius's original assessment of the situation was accurate.
"Dumbledore didn't say much. He jus' said it had been taken down?" Hagrid said thoughtfully, stroking his wiry mane of a beard. Sirius stared up at the vast man, and the pieces began to fall into place.
"It wasn't broken." Sirius said aloud. clarifying his worst fears to himself. He'd partly tried to convince himself that Peter was dead; that the Fidelus charm was rendered useless with his death. Horror mounted inside his gut as he digested the truth about the tragedy that occured in the house behind him.
"Sirius?"
"Take Harry, Hagrid."
"That's why Dumbledore sent me. He sent me to get Harry and take the wee lad to 'im." Hagrid replied grimly. He was staring past Sirius at the partially collapsed house with a sad twist of his lips.
Sirius wasn't in his right mind. If he was, he would have taken Harry and he would have fled as far away as he could. However, he wasn't in his right mind. The Black madness reared its ugly head and took the reins.
"Take Harry to Remus, Hagrid. I know Dumbledore asked you to bring Harry to him, but don't. Please, Hagrid. I am begging you, take him to Remus." Peter may have betrayed them, but for some reason, Sirius still inexplicably trusted Remus.
A male's voice was in Sirius's ear, "yes, Sirius! Trust Remus. Always trust Remus. He will keep Harry safe now that James and Lily are gone." Sirius recognised the voice but couldn't place it. "Don't send him to Dumbledore. He won't have Harry's best interests at heart. Only Remus can keep Harry safe now."
"But—" Hagrid started.
Sirius handed the boy over to Hagrid, and the man immediately cradled Harry to his chest, tucking him away so that he was shielded from the cold October wind by Hagrid's large, brown leather coat. "Remus will keep him safe, Hagrid. Please."
Sirius gazed up at the boy who had resumed crying, and was reaching down for him. Sirius smiled gently at the boy, "don't worry, Little Fawn. I'll be back soon. I promise."
And with that Sirius took off into the night, his mind turned upside down.
Sirius found Peter trying to blend into the shadows. The man wasn't too far away from the scene of the crime, and there wasn't a scratch on him. It confirmed the worst. Peter had sold James and Lily to Voldemort.
"PETTIGREW!"
Peter didn't deserve the nickname James had given him. The nickname he'd been given by a boy with rowdy dark hair, and hazel eyes shining with pride. James had smiled down at the meek boy, his pearly white teeth on display. Sirius saw none of that boy in the man in front of him.
Peter was a husk of his former self, there was no light in his eyes, but there was panic on his face. "Sirius. Pad—"
"YOU DARE CALL MY NAME?" Sirius screamed. He ceded control to his raw instincts, and he let the Black Madness run rampant. The edges of his vision were spotted with black and white. He stalked vengefully towards Peter.
Peter seemed to sense he couldn't reason with his former friend, and drew his wand from his robes whilst backing away. Peter sliced off his pinky finger, and his teeth sank into his bottom lip to hold back his scream. Sirius frowned.
Sirius's screaming had attracted several muggles. A fact Sirius realised too late, as he drew his own wand and saw Peter mouth the words, "I'm sorry."
Sirius was befuddled by the action, until something exploded. Sirius was blown back, and he landed harshly on the pavement behind him.
Crimson swam in the streets, there were scorch marks across the pavement, and Sirius was standing amongst a sea of disfigured body parts, but his vision was blurry so he couldn't make sense of anything around him. He fell to the ground, and sat in the middle of it. One thing he was sure of, was that Peter had gotten away. The man was too cowardly to take his own life.
James and Lily were gone. Nothing else mattered. Hagrid had Harry, and he was taking him to Remus. Sirius's ears rang. "It was all my fault," kept repeating in his head like a mantra until he realised he'd been speaking aloud.
Harsh yelling slammed across the fuzzy barriers in his ears, and everything was muted, barely legible. Hands were roughly grasping at him, and then it all went dark.
When Sirius roused from a sluggish slumber, the darkness converged on all his senses. He can't see, hear, and even breathing seems foreign and odd. Time ran along without an end, he doesn't know if it's morning or night. He doesn't know if it's been days, weeks or months.
Sirius figured out where he was when he'd crept forward enough to accidentally touch his cell bars. They scalded his hand, and he'd retreated backwards until his back smacked against a cold, uneven stone wall.
One day the guards came. They opened his cell, kicked him, stomped on him, and there was enough meagre light for him to see one of the guards eyeing him hungrily. Another stopped him, said it wasn't worth it, no matter how pretty he was. They would starve him, he wouldn't last the year.
Sirius lasted twelve years; twelve. Sirius's only reference for the passage of time was when Cornelius Fudge, the ruddy Minister of Magic popped in for his annual visit. He didn't speak to any of the other inmates, only Sirius. He'd overheard the guards talking about it once when they passed by on their weekly rounds, the pale blue glow from their wandlight hurting Sirius's eyes.
Fudge loved to taunt him. Why, Sirius would never understand. He wrote it off as narcissism and an inferiority complex all rolled up into a delightful package. Or perhaps, he was trying to break Sirius, but Fudge didn't understand that nothing mattered anymore. Remus had their boy, and was looking after Sirius's hope, so it didn't matter what happened to him. Sirius could waste away.
Over the years, with his endless time to think, Sirius found his mind running in circles. Which is why he spent most of his time as Padfoot; he didn't need to think and could just give into his instincts. It also helped with the Dementors, they couldn't sense him in his animagus form, so he was relatively safe.
After the first few years, Sirius no longer felt human. He forgot what his loved ones looked like, but James, Lily, Remus and Harry never stopped running through his mind during the moments he was cognisant of what was going on. Their faces may have been blurred, but their voices lingered.
There were times when he simply gave up, ready to waste away into nothingness. To not eat the slop that appeared in the corner of his cell every other day, or drink his daily cup of water. However, this light voice would tease him and prod him, tell him he wasn't allowed to give up. Another feminine voice would caress his ear, and stroke his fur. Finally, a deeper, more polished voice would snap and growl at him, encouraging him and berating him in the same breath for even considering giving up. Those three familiar voices that he couldn't place kept him going.
Then, came the errant laughter, it swirled around his cell like a distant, buoyant memory. Figures with blurred faces would dance around his cell, and the laughter would trail after them. At some point, he concluded they must exist only in his mind. Regardless, he craved it.
Some days he wished for death so he could see them again, a woman with crimson hair would stroke his cheek and tell him it wasn't his time yet, and a small boy's giggle would engulf him. He had to survive, if only to see his hope once more. Survive despite the odds stacked kilometres high against him.
Twelve years passed, and one day, something strange and unexpected happened. She came out of the darkness, dressed head-to-toe in pink; the pale light from her wand illuminating her face. It took him several minutes to get a grasp of her toad-like features, and when he did, he instantly knew who she was. The filth witch who had headed all the Anti-Beasts and Beings legislation—particularly against Werewolves—when he'd worked at the Ministry.
Dolores Umbridge played a big part in taking away most of Remus's basic rights. Sirius hoped that they hadn't affected him too terribly whilst he raised Harry. Sirius wanted to rip her throat out, and he said so aloud.
"Why I never. Cornelius was right when he said you were a filthy mongrel with a foul mouth. A blood traitor as well." Her prim, snooty voice grated on his nerves.
Sirius couldn't remember the last time he was spoken aloud, so it was no surprise to him when his voice sounded foreign to his own ears. The words were painful, his throat rusty from disuse, his tongue as dry as sandpaper. "Darling, you're going to need to come up with better insults than that. My Mother was screaming things like filth and blood traitor from the time I became a Gryffindor."
Sirius cleared his throat, his head cocked to the side. "Why would you call me a blood traitor if you lot are convinced that I was a spy for Voldemort? That I betrayed…" Sirius couldn't finish the sentence. There was a throbbing pain in his left temple.
Umbridge's eyes flashed sinisterly, and Sirius narrowed his own at that. The witch decided to ignore his latter comments. "Your Mother was very smart then," she cleared her throat in the most obnoxious way, and with a distinct crackling noise she straightened out the newspaper in her hands.
"My Mother was a vindictive bitch as far as my real Mum was concerned and I'm inclined to agree," Sirius drawled hoarsely.
"Your real Mother?"
"Dorea Potter."
"After what you did to her son, you dare call Dorea Potter—" Dolores Umbridge didn't get to finish whatever she was going to say before Sirius flung himself against the bars. Snarling loudly at the frightened woman. He ignored the pain.
"Shut your nasty mouth, toad face," Sirius spat in her direction. Any inhibitions he had were gone, there was no need for them in here. He was less human than animal these days, combined with the fact that she was a despicable lady, and here they were. "The likes of you is nowhere near worthy of even uttering her name."
It took everything in him to focus on stringing coherent sentences together. His emotions drove his words, his brain was slow and sluggish on processing everything he'd said.
Dolores threw the newspaper at the bars in front of his face, a horrified expression currently splayed across her features. "Cornelius had urgent ministry business, so he decided to let me visit with you today. Never again." Dolores promised, pointing a thick finger at him in warning.
Umbridge seemingly forgot about her newspaper as she stormed away, the clicking of her heels echoing throughout the uneven hallways; they seemed more like tunnels that had been carved roughly out of stone.
Sirius hastily retreating back from the bars, there were no physical marks left behind, but it still felt as if his skin had been seared off. Sirius crouched down on the other side of the bars, inches away, eyes narrowed at the paper she'd left behind. Curiosity prickled across his nape.
Sirius cautiously reached between the vertical bars, and picked up the paper. He took extra care not to let his arm touch the rusty, metal bars; otherwise more pain would surely follow. A tiny part of him wondered what was going on in the outside world.
The last couple years, they'd taken to lighting a single torch outside each inmate's cell, and he used that light, and shifted his eyes to read the words. It'd been so long since he'd seen words that the characters were alien-like to his eyes. So, he opted to look at the pictures instead.
The Weasleys? Hmm, Her— Sirius frowned. Her what? Not important. They were good people. Sure did breed a lot though. He saw the youngest son. He must be Harry's age. Then he spotted it. The rat. The rat with a missing toe.
The next day when the guard went to shove Sirius's gruel into his cell, it was empty; shrouded in darkness that didn't quite hit the back wall.
"What the hell?" The man cursed. Escape was impossible. If Sirius Black had managed to escape, the warden would have his head.. No one escaped. No one.
Swinging open the door, he was filled with dread, he was going to lose his job and most likely die by the Warden's hand. He turned his back, and then he heard it. The primal, low growl. The poor guard didn't even fully turn back around before the large, black dog launched itself at him, knocking him out with the impact of his skull against the ground.
Thankfully, there weren't too many Dementors on the loose, patrolling the corridors. The day guards were responsible with making sure the prisoners were fed and everything was in order, and at night the Dementors roamed freely, sucking happiness and sanity from the cells when they felt like.
The pitch-black dog trotted carefully down the corridors, slinking into the shadows when it came across a Dementor. Thankful that he was all skin and bones now from years of neglect, starvation and having the happiness drained away from him.
The dog stood on the edge of one of the rare spaces which was open to the sky, with raging black water below. Fear was a word that meant little to the dog now. Familiar words that he himself used to say came to mind. "What's life without a little risk?"
With that idea firmly in hand, he saw James and Lily. Their smiling faces were in front of him; as clearly as if he was staring at them in the flesh. He was going to protect their son like he had promised all those years ago.
Fuck it. The dog took a few steps back before bounding forward and leaping off the edge. Sailing through the air like he used to on a broom—Merlin it felt like another lifetime ago now.
The impact of the waves was like hurtling towards a brick wall, and shards of agony rippled through him. He was grateful that he'd been on one of the lower levels. Cold. The water was unbearably cold, icicles clinging to his fur.
Padfoot kicked his limbs in spite of the pain, pure willpower urging his paws forth; it was enough to keep his head above water and his body moving. He gave into his survival instincts, into his primal being.
Padfoot didn't know how long it took, he didn't know how he hadn't been preyed on by something in the dark abyss of the unknown surrounding him.
The water grew warmer, he spotted land in the distance. He kept kicking until he eventually found himself in the shallows, and foolishly he allowed hope to bloom in his chest.
The grim trudged onto the shore, his back-left paw dragging limply—it was not responding as it should. He crawled onto the greyish sand and collapsed. Blackness claimed him, and he morphed back into a man, his pathetic excuse for prisoner's garb sticking to his skin. The night air was almost warm, so perhaps he would not freeze to death; it would be tragic to make it all this way, only to succumb to the elements.
The stars in the night sky gazed upon him pitifully. Sirius woke with the dawn. He twisted onto his back, and blearily watched the sunrise for the first time in twelve years. A single tear rolled down his cheek as the oranges and yellows began their timeless dance with the dark blues of the night. Something so beautiful and filled with hope, he'd taken for granted most of his life.
Sand coated his skin, his clothes, and was wedged into every crevice it could find. Sharp pain stabbed between his ribs as he sat up; Sirius held himself cautiously.
Harry. Sirius was that much closer to seeing his Godson again. He must have had a good childhood with Remus raising him, Sirius thought. Remus would have raised him with stories of his Father, his Mother, and their friends.
The idea of seeing his fellow Marauder caused a warmth to slide through his limbs, but there was the harsh pain and truth of knowing that Remus was under the impression that he'd betrayed the Potters, not Pettigrew.
Peter was a bitter thought that coagulated on the underside of Sirius's tongue. In frustration, he dug up a handful of sand, and with a war-like cry hurled it at the sea. There was no time to lose, Sirius had to warn them. He had to protect them from Pettigrew.
Disapparating without a wand in his condition proved to be a dreadful idea; he almost splinched himself when he arrived on the outskirts of Lupin Den. Only to find it rundown, and seemingly abandoned. He shifted into Padfoot, and with his animagus eyes he was able to see his pack bond better. There was only one thread attached to it in the near vicinity, and it was faint, weak. He recognized it—Remus.
Approaching Remus in his current state would probably not be wise. He didn't have a wand and subduing him without one in order to get him to listen to what actually happened that night would be nigh impossible. Sirius also did not have enough strength to do wandless magic. He would be surprised if he could levitate a feather upon command in his state.
The grim lingered amongst the trees, sitting on his haunches. Remus would have to wait, Sirius decided after some time.
Sirius was drawn away from the Den, by another thread. And it confused him. Although it was thin and frail the thread tying him to Harry guided him towards the boy. How long it took for him to find Harry he was not sure.
Eventually, he found himself in a plain, perfectly ordinary muggle neighbourhood; all the hedges were uniform and cut with meticulous care. He felt like he travelled the entirety of England when he arrived. He was pushing himself past his limits, surviving off scraps of food that he managed to find; digging through trash was a new low for him, but it was a necessary evil.
Privet Drive. Familiarity rang in his mind as he mulled over the street name. The reason why became abundantly clear shortly. Sirius staked out the house, keeping to the bushes and shadows. No one noticed him. A fact he was proud of. He didn't take up too much space in his current state, either as a dog or human.
The Dursleys. Harry was with the horse-faced Petunia, her robust, puce-faced husband, and their round child. Sirius opted not to make any rash movements, decided to observe the house, and attempt to formulate a plan.
One night, Padfoot was on the brink of falling asleep when Harry stormed out of the plain-looking house, tugging his large trunk behind him (a snowy white owl was in a cage in his other hand). So far, Sirius had only gotten glimpses of the boy through windows. Not enough to form a proper image of the lad. Tonight was different. There was some light from the moon, and it shone across Harry.
It hurt how much he looked like James. It hurt even more with how different they were. Sirius had not been prepared for this. Sirius told himself he was, but he wasn't.
The pain surged through his body and clawed at his heart when he saw Lily's eyes peering at him through the bush. Sirius never got a chance to approach him, as the Knightbus appeared suddenly, and Harry was whisked away. He was ripped from Sirius's grasp once more.
Sirius had a guess as to where he would be soon. Once more, Sirius made his way cross-country to Hogwarts. Getting to Scotland was a pain in his arse: he got better at scrounging up food and was slowly gaining enough strength to use small spells without his wand like warming charms for the frigid nights. The border was the biggest issue, but for the most part the days blended; it was an arduous, strenuous journey. Sirius had long since pushed himself past his limits. But something burned in him, pushing him harder.
Hogwarts. The majesty of the castle floored him when he lay eyes on it for the first time in what felt like eons. Bitter anger built up inside of him suddenly as he gazed at it.
Dumbledore knew: he knew that Pettigrew was the secret-keeper and he'd left Sirius in Azkaban to rot anyway. It had slipped his mind until now, Harry being his only coherent thought most of the time. The rest filled either by boiling hatred for Peter or being numb. Nothing else had mattered.
The Forbidden Forest was a dangerous place, but to Sirius it became his safe haven. He avoided all the magical entities that he could. A centaur saw him, but barely acknowledged him before she went on her way.
Sirius found a rock formation with a ledge at the top, and the front curved in on itself. It created a little pocket where he could squeeze himself into, stay relatively hidden and was also protected from the elements. He stayed there for days. Slumbering away, trying to recuperate from his long journey.
Fall began.
A strange development occurred. Sirius could vaguely sense Remus once again through their bond. Something he eventually convinced himself was all in his head. Their connection was weak and frayed: years apart, coupled with Sirius's fragile magical state, on top of that, Remus had probably forsaken it.
One hazy afternoon, leaves skittered across the forest floor and an orange ball of fur with a smushed face found him. A half-kneazle. At least that's what he thought it was.
Sirius made his first friend in years. His little hiding place was big enough that when he shifted back into a human, he could sit up straight, and half-raise his hands above his head before he touched its ceiling. It was about six feet wide in diameter. It was a small space, but it became his. The orange beast could fit inside as well, and it visited him at least once every other day.
The half-kneazle started stealing food and bringing it to him. The feline smelled of chamomile and vanilla, and Sirius wondered why the scent was so nostalgic and familiar.
"Okay, kneazle. I have a favour to ask. There's a particular rat I need you to bring me. It belongs to a ginger boy—" It mewled incessantly, rubbing its head against his knee. Sirius supposed that meant they had reached an accord, and or that the kneazle knew exactly which rat he spoke of. They were known for being highly intelligent beasts, so he wouldn't be surprised in the slightest.
The year passed fairly quickly. Sirius's new ally continued to bring him enough food to sustain him, and every now and then Padfoot would stretch his legs in the forest.
Sirius made a couple attempts to breach the Castle himself. Both unsuccessful. The first on Halloween when he knew all the students would be in the Great Hall, and the second time was after his half-kneazle friend brought him a piece of parchment with a list of passwords to the Gryffindor Tower.
Once, Padfoot had been strolling around the Forbidden forest's grounds, when he sensed Harry's presence. He hid behind some foliage, and he caught a glimpse of Harry with the Weasley boy, and a bushy-haired female. She stared openly into the forest with a furrowed brow, and Sirius couldn't breathe. Time slowed, and somehow he forgot about Harry for the briefest of moments.
Who is she? Why does she look—Sirius caught himself thinking, but then she was gone. Immediately, thoughts of her fled his mind.
Security with the Dementors was tightened after his failed attempts to get to Peter; there was an excessive number of the creatures roaming the outskirts of Hogwarts.
Then, fate intervened. Sirius could sense that tonight was to be a full moon. He rubbed at the tattoo of the moon that used to follow the moon cycle's when he was stronger. All his tattoos were dull and lifeless.
They came to him, Peter came to him. It was marvellous. Sirius got a hold of the Weasley boy's leg and dragged him through the Whomping Willow's tunnel. Hurting the boy wasn't his intention, but he couldn't let Peter go again.
The Weasley boy was whinging, and banging on about how he couldn't hurt Harry.
Why would I hurt my Godson? Why would I hurt my hope? Then Sirius recalled to all of them, he was the evil one, he was the one who had killed James and Lily, and in a way, he supposed he had. He should have been the secret keeper.
The bushy-haired girl and Harry came. Harry was spewing vitriol and talking about revenge for his parents. The hatred in his eyes hurt. A flash of a little boy giggling and playing with Sirius's hair came to mind, but he shook it off.
The Weasley boy was standing up on his injured leg, saying that if he wanted Harry he'd have to go through them first. His guilt at injuring the boy multiplied, but he couldn't let go of the rat, the traitor, Pettigrew.
Sirius tried to explain, but it wasn't working.
Then, Remus appeared; he was older with a melancholic gaze in his eyes. Remus would fix it, he would fix everything, he always did, and Sirius knew Remus knew the truth when their eyes met.
My sweet, sweet Moon, a feminine voice said lovingly in Sirius's head. He'd heard the voice many a time during his stint on the hellish island that stole everything you had to offer; it sounded clearer now, and bright hazel eyes materialised in his mind, but the image was gone as quickly as it had come.
"Remus."
Sirius soon learned that the girl's name was Hermione. Now it was her turn for a bout of exposition. She didn't want to let Remus speak, she kept talking about keeping his secret safe. But then, she spilled the truth to the room, and her friends were stunned into silence. She called him 'Professor Lupin'.
How Moony-like is it to become a Professor, Sirius snorted internally.
The icing on the cake was when Snape showed up, insisting that Remus and Sirius were in cahoots. That he knew Remus couldn't be trusted. The greasy git was talking about it as if he'd unravelled some master scheme, when the real culprit was squirming in the Weasley boy's hands.
After a clamant clusterfuck of confusion—including Snape being stunned by his students—the truth was revealed. However, Harry was a honourable boy, and insisted they not kill Peter.
Thus, they went back down the tunnel, and exited out by the Whomping Willow, only to realise that night was about to fall, and the moon was shortly full in the sky. Remus hadn't taken his dose of Wolfsbane for the night, and Moony took over. The bloody rat escaped again during the commotion.
Sirius briefly recalled being by the Black Lake, and having a sky full of Dementors diving down and sucking pieces of his soul away from him. When a luminescent stag appeared on the opposite side of the lake, and rippling waves of light drove the Dementors away. It all faded to black after that.
When Sirius roused sometime later, he found himself locked in a small office. His entire body was aching and he was so tired. He managed to sit upright and leant back against a wall. He stared around, and quickly concluded that he was in Fitwick's office. He hadn't been inside the man's office much during his tutelage, but remarkably it hadn't changed that much over the years.
There was a pure white feather floating inside a glass dome, gently moving up and down. Sirius stared at it listlessly, and wondered if his final moments would be spent here. Surely, the ultimate punishment—a Dementor's Kiss—was on its way.
Sirius hoped Harry was okay. However, he's glad he'd been able to see and talk to Harry at all. He was eternally grateful that Harry had learned the truth, and he wished he got more time with the boy. Sirius closed his eyes and was prepared for the inevitable.
Moments later, Harry and Hermione were yelling his name from Flitwick's office window, and they were on the back of a bloody Hippogriff. Sirius would have laughed at the absurdity of the situation if not for its urgency.
You really are so like your Father, Sirius thought as he scrambled onto the Hippogriff behind Hermione.
There wasn't enough time to say what he wanted to, but Sirius promised Harry he would be in touch, and then he and Buckbeak took to the skies, and left his Godson and his friend on top of the West Tower.
The first thing Sirius did was write Harry a letter explaining that it had been him that sent the Firebolt, and he also gave Harry permission to visit Hogsmeade for the next year.
The second thing Sirius did was fly Buckbeak cross-country—stopping to rest and recuperate occasionally—to Lupin Den. Sirius made himself at home, had a proper shower for the first time in years, and cobbled together a meal from the dried preservatives in one of Remus's kitchen cupboards. It wasn't fancy, but it was delicious in comparison to what he'd been fed for years.
Sirius was waiting for Remus when the man arrived home. Their bond warmed his chest when Remus apparated onto the premises.
Sirius's first question for Remus after he'd settled in, and placed his things in his room was, "who is the young witch that Harry's friends with?"
Remus was seemingly taken aback by the question. "Hermione Granger, a young Muggleborn witch. She's brilliant actually, one of the smartest wix I've ever met, which is saying something considering her age."
"Poppycock," Sirius countered, rubbing at his temples.
"Which part? Her brilliance? I hardly think that brief interaction you had when she thought you were a murderer can be indicative of her intelligence, Pads."
"No. The Muggleborn part," Sirius muttered, squeezing his eyes shut. "It's unfathomable that I would feel such an intense connection to some random witch, Remus. There's more to her story."
"You felt connected to her?" Remus asked quietly, massaging the back of his neck absently, his gaze lowered; he was staring at his cup of tea on the table in front of him. The man shifted uncomfortably in his chair.
"It makes no ruddy sense, it's almost like we share a—"
"Bond?" Remus finished, and Sirius's head snapped up to look at him.
"Exactly!" Sirius exclaimed, eyes wide. "But, how is that possible, Remus? How in Merlin's name would we both share a bond with a thirteen—fourteen year old witch?"
"I've been trying to figure it out all school year, but it tends to give me a migraine…" Remus paused thoughtfully, his lips pursed.
"What?"
"There's someone else at Hogwarts who also evoked a similar, undeniable familiarity with me," Remus confessed. "And, it's not Harry."
"Who is it?" Sirius asked, leaning forward in his seat, legs spread wide, his hands in between them and gripping the lip of his seat tightly.
"Draco Malfoy."
Sirius's subsequent year was not a glamorous one. He and Buckbeak camped out in a cave not far from Hogwarts so that Sirius could be close in case Harry needed him. He would sneak out as Padfoot to gather intel on the outside world, and how the TriWizard Tournament was progressing. Trust Harry to find himself mixed up in such a perilous, troublesome competition at the ripe age of fourteen. It seemed their knack for getting in trouble had not only been passed down to him, but had multiplied tenfold.
Sirius traded letters with Remus and Harry throughout the year. He used a variety of exotic birds. At one point he was considering using a toucan, and Lily's voice reverberated through his skull, "a bloody toucan." He couldn't recall what they'd been discussing at the time.
Then, the tournament ended with murder. Cedric Diggory was killed, Voldemort returned, and Harry almost died.
The war that had been put on hold for over a decade was about to resume. Most of their society including the Minister of Magic didn't want to admit it, but Sirius could taste it in the air. Things had shifted.
Sirius ended up in the last place he thought he ever would again. Dumbledore was a blasted menace as far as Sirius was concerned, and he'd willingly allowed him to rot in Azkaban for years. He'd purposefully kept Harry away from Remus, and all of his ties in the Wizarding World until he was eleven, and no one could convince Sirius any differently.
Sirius outright refused to go back to Grimmauld Place at first. "Hounds from the depths of hell couldn't drag me back," Sirius snarled at the man. Unfortunately, he ended up walking back into the dreary place of his own accord.
Sirius was miserable. Outwardly, the structure appeared normal if not grim and dinghy with all the dust, but because of his ties to the Black ancestral magic he was more in tune with the state of the place. It was contorted and warped with dark magic. No to mention the dust, filth, and the way it'd fallen into disrepair from years of neglect. There were no happy memories Sirius could recall within its walls.
Truthfully, it was another year of imprisonment, and he kept thinking that he would have preferred Azkaban. At least his Mother's portrait didn't holler at him all the time there.
Thankfully, Sirius wasn't alone. Remus moved in with him, and if not for his company, Sirius would have lost the plot. An interesting development that occurred was Moody sent Little Tonks to Grimmauld Place one afternoon, and he could sense a shift in Remus through their bond the moment he laid eyes on the younger witch. It was marvellous watching them dance around one another.
Sirius invited Tonks over to spend as much time there as she was able to stand. She could also sense the darkness in the house through her magic, and she shuddered in some of the rooms that were more tainted than others. Tonks readily agreed, and he could tell she enjoyed his company, but also she really wanted to see Moony.
Sirius was unsure exactly what happened, but at some point Remus screwed up, decided to run away and take on all kinds of dangerous missions. As a result, Tonks came round less often. Sirius was left mostly alone again, and it was torture. It was during those days that he found himself in Regulus's old room, and it was embarrassing how many days he'd fallen asleep in his younger brother's room. It still kind of smelled like him. It made him feel closer to the sibling he'd failed so spectacularly.
Sirius reluctantly admitted that the only good memories at Grimmauld Place from his childhood revolved around Regulus. I failed him, I didn't protect him like I should have, Sirius thought morosely, clutching at Regulus's sheets and crying himself to sleep.
One day, Dumbledore came to visit. Sirius had had enough. Kreacher was being a miserable beast, and had been whinging all bloody morning. Dumbledore had the audacity to ask Sirius how he was holding up. Sirius laid into the man, telling him exactly what he thought of him.
The man's pale blue eyes twinkled. Dumbledore smiled gently, and said, "one day you shall understand, Mister Black. It had to be this way—you'll see."
A hair's breadth. The Department of Mysteries. Bellatrix's stupefy missed him by a hair's breadth, and in the split second later he realised how close he was to the towering, wispy veil that appeared to be withholding innumerable secrets.
Another year, Remus got his head out of his arse and officially started to court Tonks. Sirius never passed on an opportunity to tease him relentlessly about it. At first, how well Remus and Tonks fit together was shocking; they were exactly what the other needed.
Sirius liked to imagine he'd had something to do with their reconciliation. He was the one who told Remus that his reasons for not being with the witch were puerile. They were both miserable without the other. So, Sirius subtly reminded Remus that he was good enough for Tonks, and he wouldn't be ruining her life by being with her. Remus deserved to be happy, as did the younger witch.
Another year passed. Dumbledore died, and Sirius's feelings about the matter were unresolved. He wouldn't have wished death on the man, and he did mourn his loss in a way, but a small part of him was glad he was gone. Glad that Dumbledore could no longer outright lie to him or manipulate his life. A lie by omission was still a lie, and Dumbledore had those spilling from every orifice. He never revealed the whole chess board, simply toying with people's lives as it suited him.
It turned out that Lucius and Narcissa's son, Draco, was the one who let the Death Eaters into the Castle. He joined their ranks the previous summer. However, it was Snivellus that delivered the final blow. Sirius told anyone who would listen that he knew Snape couldn't be trusted.
The strangest part was how bothered Sirius was when he heard about what Draco did. Sirius'd never met the boy, but yet, hearing about him made his heart clench painfully; as if gripped by tremendous sorrow.
Sirius's pain priority after Dumbledore's passing was being a pillar of stability and support for Harry. Sirius may not have cared for the man, but Harry was extraordinarily attached to him. Harry had admired him. So, Sirius stayed with him until he was forced to go back to the accursed Dursleys.
Mad-Eye had taken over the mantle of the Order's leader with Kingsley as his right-hand man. He commanded that Harry go back to Privet Drive until he became of age. "The magical protection from his Mother will remain in effect until his seventeenth birthday. It's the safest place for him considering everything that's happened. Grimmauld Place is no longer safe for him, Black. And where else will you go?"
Potter Manor, Sirius thought once, but as soon as he did, the idea fled. Harry would be able to cross the wards, but he'd never been there, so it would only make matters more difficult.
Sirius, Remus, and Tonks relied on the Black family's ancestral wards to hide them away at Grimmauld Place. They weren't at their strongest since they hadn't been renewed in over a century, but none of them cared much.
The trio often found themselves at the Burrow that summer. Molly was happy to have them stay for as long as they wished. The Weasley twins kept Sirius entertained, and he sneakily gave them suggestions for future projects when their parents weren't paying attention. They were of age wizards, but he knew it wouldn't be wise to speak aloud of mischief-making in Molly Weasley's presence. (Sirius could tell that it wasn't the first career she would have chosen for her boys, but she was still proud of them.)
A fierce lioness came to stay at the Burrow at the beginning of July. He'd taken to calling her, 'Kitten'. She abhorred the nickname, but riling her up and teasing her brought a slice of unbridled joy into his life. 'Hermione' was too much of a mouthful.
Sirius acknowledged that Hermione was a nice girl, who cared deeply about his Godson. He was beyond elated that Harry had found friends like her and Ron. However, something about her never sat right with him. Not in a bad way, moreso, he perpetually felt as if he was trying to remember something important around her, but could never put his finger on it.
Sirius's life transformed into a rollercoaster of quick-paced events where he would be on an upward curve only to nosedive into tragedy. Bill and Fleur's wedding was meant to be a joyous event, but it morphed into a panic when Kingsley's patronus arrived to inform them that Scrimgeour was dead, and the Ministry had fallen. In the midst of all the mayhem, Harry, Ron and Hermione disappeared.
Remus, Tonks and Sirius headed to Lupin Den as quickly as they could. Remus refused to let her fight in her condition. Instead, the bloody werewolf merely freaked out and tried to run away. Remus left Sirius and his pregnant wife behind as he headed to Grimmauld Place to try and join the Golden Trio on whatever mission Dumbledore had given them.
Sirius laid into him when he came back, and he was glad that Harry had given him a talking to as well. He despised that he wasn't by Harry's side for the days ahead, but he knew that they all had their parts to play, and Sirius's was to fight on the front lines.
Sirius prayed that this time the war wouldn't end with more people important to him dying. Many did, but he happened to be in the right place at the right time when an explosion almost killed Fred Weasley. He also managed to save Tonks when Bellatrix went after her.
The world froze. Harry was dead. Sirius wanted to destroy everything in sight, Remus was the only thing holding him back. Hermione's broken cry snapped him out of it. Silently he walked over to her, slipping in right behind her and Ron. Hermione sensed him, turned and clung to him, sobbing into his chest. Sirius held her protectively with one arm. An odd warmth flared to life in his chest. The bond they shared, the one he didn't understand.
Sirius loosely wrapped his other arm around Ron's shoulder. The ginger nodded wanly in his direction, silent tears flowing from his eyes; a dullness had smoothed out the electricity in the bright blue orbs.
Sirius understood their pain. He had lived it. It had broken him. Now it shattered him once more. Harry was his hope and now he was gone.
Alice and Frank's boy—Neville—was not broken. He stood up and brazenly said it was not over. Harry was gone, but not what he stood for. Harry was their friend and his death would not be in vain. Hagrid's quiet sobbing filled the courtyard.
In a moment of brilliance, Sirius watched in awe as Neville drew the Sword of Gryffindor from the sorting hat, and cleaved Nagini's head off in one fell swoop. It was marvellous, and Voldemort was screaming in anger.
The world began to spin on its axis again, because Harry was alive. Harry was alive and Sirius could breathe again, euphoria filling him.
Bellatrix was duelling Hermione, Luna and Ginny, and as Sirius headed over to help, Molly swept in when a nasty spell soared too close to her youngest.
Magical words left her mouth, "NOT MY DAUGHTER, YOU BITCH!". It was Molly Weasley who dispatched the wicked witch in the end.
Surprisingly, moments later Narcissa appeared out of thin air, snatched up the wand her sister was using, and recoiled as it rejected her. None of them moved. Narcissa sighed heavily, snapped the wand, and ran into the fray; defenceless. Sirius later learned she was searching for her son.
Everything they'd been fighting for came to a head, and Sirius saw Lily's ferocity, and James's courage as Harry defeated Voldemort once and for all. They might be gone, but they lived on in other ways. Unwitting tears streamed down his face.
"Your parents would be so proud," Sirius told him afterwards, hugging him tightly, relieved when he felt Harry's chest rising and falling against him as he breathed.
In the next moment, Sirius pulled back and lightly whacked Harry on the back of the head. "Don't do that kind of reckless shite again! What were you thinking, going into the forest alone to meet a madman?"
"I was probably thinking about me being the 'Chosen One'," Harry drawled. Sirius simultaneously wanted to smother him, and laugh at his cheek. James would be immensely proud of his son's sassy commentary. Sirius chose to hug him tightly once more instead. His boy was alive, and he was so proud of him.
Months passed. The seasons tilted and changed. Snow came. It was December first. It was quiet. Sirius was asleep on Molly's couch. As much as she said she wanted to get rid of him, she still welcomed him with open arms whenever he came to visit. Molly was bustling about when she suddenly stumbled and dropped the dishes she was carrying. The crash sent Sirius rushing to her aid.
Sirius found her kneeling on the floor, hands on her cheeks. With wide eyes Molly looked up at him and said the words that changed everything. The words that made everything fit back into place. "Hermione and Draco Potter."
Remus. Sirius needed to go to Remus. It was the wee hours of the morning but he didn't care. Remus didn't remember at first, but when he did they rushed to Hogwarts.
Only for it to be too late. Hermione and Draco were gone.