We were meant to live for so much more
I smelled the smoke before anything else; the reek drifted up to me as I hurried down from the clouds on my motorcycle. Then I saw the silhouette against the half moon, not one of the all too familiar one story house that stored within its walls a million happy memories; but a pile of splintered fragments and a man, a huge man, standing over the rubble and clutching a wailing bundle. Harry! Landing I stopped hurriedly, leaving the bike where it had stopped, I ran the last few feet wand drawn.
"Who, what!" I yelled, breathless, as I pulled along side. The large figure turned and I recognized, it as Hagrid, my body relaxed slightly- at least Harry was safe. But what about James and Lily, where were they? "Where are James and Lily, what happened here?" I asked bending over and trying to catch my breath, surveying the ruin, the battlefield before me. When I had found Peter's house deserted I had expected foul play, but this was beyond anything I could have imagined.
"Dead," Hagrid replied, as a large tear rolled down his giant's face. "Voldemort killed them..." he trailed off as another sob chocked out.
"What?" I stammered out. My head had shot up at the first word, looking at him incredulously. He couldn't really mean dead, the big blundering oaf had it all wrong. We had worked so hard so he wouldn't get them. How could Peter have found it in his rat heart to hurt his friends like this, to kill his friends!
"And then for some reason the spell bounced off Harry and destroyed You-Know-Who." I pulled out of my raving mind to realize that Hagrid had been explaining further. There were other times for explanation though; right now my mind was brimming over with grief. My best friend was dead; my world felt like it was crashing in around my ears. Taking one shaky step forward I set out into the rubble, tears of shock and anguish rolling down my face, soaking it in seconds. I had some trouble getting past the front gate, my hands trembling and weak just couldn't push past the discarded wood material and the lightly jammed mettle rack that stood in my way. Finally getting through I searched the house from floor to broken rafters till I found them. Then I simply collapse over their bodies; faces frozen forever in the look of a person who knows they will soon die a horrific death.
I don't know how much time passed, it felt like millenniums, but I was finally was pulled forcefully back to the here and now by Hagrid's worried cries, and the renewed wailings of the now orphaned Harry. My head and hands slightly steadier I was then able to pull them one by one out of the rubble and out to the torn sidewalk, and back to Hagrid.
"There wasn't anything you could have done." Hagrid no doubt meant comfort by these words, but I knew the sad grueling reality. There had been something I could have done, not push my responsibility off to that traitorous scum could have been a good start.
"Give Harry to me Hagrid." I stated softly reaching up for him. If there was anything I could do to partially rectify my mistake was to raise Harry, he was my godson after all, and this mess of a life he had now was all my fault. "I'm his godfather, and I'll look after him."
"I have orders; I'm supposed to take him to his aunt and uncle's." Hagrid replied, regretfully. "Dumbledore." He added as ways of explanation.
"Can't I at least hold him?" I almost whimpered; how could Dumbledore steal him from me, to drop him with a bunch of muggles?
"I guess so." Hagrid replied gruffly, gently, handing the bundle down to me from his great height.
Poor boy; his face was red with wailing, now though he seemed too weak to continue. My tears returned afresh and I wept profusely, my tears falling onto his face. At the feeling of my tears on his face he looked up, and no doubt recognizing me, he smiled. He didn't know what had happened, that his life had changed forever, that after only a year in this cruel world of ours he had lost his parents.
"I better be going then." Hagrid half mumbled reaching once more to take my last remnant of James from me. I relented, to weak to protest, Dumbledore knew what he was doing; he knew I would die of regret and remorse, and I could have taken care of Harry.
"Take my motorcycle," I replied; now that I couldn't offer him a home, this was the next best thing, to get there quickly and safely. The Death Eaters no doubt would be after him for this. "I won't need it any more."
The cold dark walls of stone were all that greeted my eyes as I slowly opened them. That memory, the memory of James' and Lily's death was one of the few memories that was still sharp; it haunted me, even when my head was so fogged up with despair that I sometimes considered killing myself. At these times I took refuge in my other self, the mangy dog I could become. Dementors couldn't sense an animal's feelings, so in that form I was safe. But I knew I could never be happy, not without my friends around me, and even if one hadn't been dead and one a traitor, it wasn't even likely I would ever get out to see even Remus again.
Remus... He probably hates me, because like the rest of the wizarding world he thinks I betrayed James. But then the reason for that is because I doubted his loyalties. After all a werewolf is a prime subject when considering who could have been the spy for Voldemort. I should have known, though, that it was Peter, weak little slimy git that he is. I let the world's view of werewolves cloud my judgment.
I was disturbed from my reverie by a voice, a human voice, right outside my cell. Scrambling up as quickly as I could, my body shaking from weakness and malnutrition, I was able to stand up only slightly hunched as the heavy door swung open. In stepped the minister, no doubt checking up on the prisoners. He seemed surprised to see me standing, he had after all been looking in, no doubt to make sure I hadn't cheated out on sentience by dieing; a newspaper clutched under one arm. He turned to go, he had after seen more then what he had expected, but I was, after all, safely locked up, so what did it truly matter.
"Are you finished with that?" I asked pointing to his newspaper. As soon as my eyes had focused on the paper my mind had craved news of the outside world; even if my voice didn't reveal it, I was a desperate man.
"Why?" the minister was apparently very surprised by my seeming sane behavior. He thought had every right to be surprised, if it hadn't been for my transformation powers I would have gone mad years ago.
"I miss the crossword.' I replied with a shrug, deriving some kind of fiendish pleasure from his look of confusion. A rustle of cloth, signaling some movement of the guard outside and my joy had disappeared.
The minister shivered at the same instant, a look of apprehension on his face. "Sure, here." He hurriedly dropped the paper, turning, he departed quickly. The combination of my sanity and the Dementor's effect on him was unsettling and he no doubt wanted to leave as quickly as possible.
The first thing that I looked at after I had gone, calmly, picked up the newspaper and went to go sit on my bed was the date. How long had I been in here anyway? Little less than twelve years... Was that all? It felt more like fifty years.
Crouching on the floor over my bed I turned into my dog form, determined to enjoy any feeling other then dark maddening despair that I could. I was also determined to make it last, so I slowly, reverently, turned to the first front page article.
I didn't get very far though; only a little ways in, my roving probing eyes where caught by a familiar rat, an all too familiar rat. So Peter hadn't deserted wizard company completely. There he was, practically staring me back right in the face. My eyes quickly darted down to the caption.
"MINISTRY OF MAGIC EMPLOYEE SCOOPS GRAND PRIZE.
"Arthur Weasley, Head of the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts office at the Ministry of Magic, has won the annual Daily Prophet Grand Prize Galleon draw.
"A delighted Mr. Weasley told the Daily Prophet, 'We will be spending the gold on a summer holiday in Egypt, where our eldest son, Bill, works as a curse breaker for Gringotts Wizarding Bank.'
The Weasley family will be spending a month in Egypt, returning for the start of the new school year at Hogwarts, which five of the Weasley children currently attend."
Sirius' mind raced. If all the facts set forth by the photo and article were to be believed, Peter would be going to Hogwarts this next year. Never mind that he had probably been going for at least a year now, now Sirius knew that, he couldn't help but feel he must act. He had to get to Harry before Peter decided to act, before he went to finish his work. But how could he get out?
I had never, after the first few days, contemplated escape. What was it worth setting my life on the line, just to escape into world that hated me? Then after a week even if I was still sane, it was simply easier to let myself fall into the pits of despair.
That night, when my daily meal was served, I decided I had no choice; I made a dash for it. It seemed that the ministry believed that no one in the prison was sane enough to try and escape. Because in my dog form I found it easy then to huddle into the shadows by the gate until the next prisoner arrived.
So close to escape I watched the man marched past. I didn't know his name, or if he even deserved to be in here. But so close to escape I couldn't help but have my heart go out to the man, knowing that his sentient existence would stop in just a few days. Reducing him, no doubt, to a mumbling mass of rags.
After this I only had a few seconds to dash out of the great gates, my black shaggy back mingling with the dark fog that shrouded the island. My memories of my trip here were no where close to happy and so were still intact, embossed into my memory; I knew exactly what direction to go in.
With determination I set out on what would prove to be a long and strenuous swim. I, however, wasn't daunted. I had to save Harry. Most importantly though I must have my revenge! Revenge for all the hearts Peter had broken, up to and including his mother's. The poor women hadn't deserved to have a son like Peter turned out to be. My mind was set, and there was nothing and no one who was going to get in the way of my mission.