(A/N: Prepare to cry, and possibly scream at characters and/or author.)

Chapter 4: What's Left to Take?

October was about half-over, and Aletha was in the kitchen, burning dinner.

Two people who can't cook should never marry each other.

I miss Danger.

The thought led inevitably to more thoughts. David and Rose tortured and killed, Hermione missing... the Prewetts, dead because of her... Lily's parents, and James'...

She had very few thoughts these days that didn't lead to some kind of sorrow. So many deaths, so much pain and suffering...

So we have to find the humor where we can.

Like right now.

She grabbed her wand and put out the fire which had erupted in the oven while she'd been thinking.

Looks like pizza for dinner again.

The Floo went off in the music room while she was clearing the smoke out of the kitchen. She left the rest of it to clear out on its own and went in to greet Sirius.

The look on his face stopped her. "All right, who died now?" she asked resignedly.

"Huh?"

"Who died?"

"Oh – no one. Everyone's fine. I was just... thinking."

Aletha crossed her arms suspiciously.

"Would I lie to you?"

"Yes."

"About something important?"

"Well... no," Aletha had to admit. Sirius might tell fibs, but he had never lied to her about a subject of importance. Bent the truth, misguided and misled her, and told her what she wanted to hear, yes. But he had never flat out lied.

"I had a talk with James and Lily," said Sirius in a tone that was trying to be casual.

"About what?"

Sirius sat down on the couch, resting his arm along its back in a clear invitation for her to join him. "Letha, I'd do anything to end this war."

"So would I."

"But there's a problem."

"Yes. The main cause for the war doesn't want to be ended. I mean, with a name like Vol-de-mort – flies-from-death – who would ever think that?"

"How'd you know that about his name?"

Aletha sighed. "Remus broke it down for me once."

"All right. Letha, there's a chance someone we know could end the war."

"You mean, kill Voldemort? Is this a mission or something?"

"Not quite. See..." Sirius frowned, thinking. Aletha refrained from making the obvious joke about it looking like hard work.

Aloud.

"Dumbledore witnessed a prophecy," said Sirius finally. "About 'the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord'."

"That's good. Did the prophecy say who this one might be?"

"Yeah. It did. Kind of. It gave two possibilities."

"Are you going to tell me, or are you enjoying dragging it out like this?"

"Would you please quit hassling me? I'm trying to decide how much I'm allowed to tell you!"

Aletha's eyebrows went up. "Allowed?"

"Letha, James and Lily swore me to secrecy six different ways before they'd tell me a word of this. The thing is, Voldemort only knows a part of it. And he'd do anything to get his hands on the rest. Every person who knows is another risk, and we do have a spy in the Order. Please understand, I don't mean it personally, not at all – I know you'd never tell a living soul, and there's not a chance in hell you're the spy – but..."

"I do understand." Aletha forced down her first reaction of anger and humiliation – wasn't she good enough? – and reminded herself that Sirius was talking sense. Anyone could be broken under torture, but what she didn't know, she couldn't tell, not even by accident.

"I can tell you the part he already knows, then," said Sirius with some relief. "'The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches. Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies...'"

"Born?"

"It was made a little over a year ago," said Sirius quietly. "Late June or early July, I'm not really sure which."

Born as the seventh month dies... at the end of July... A cold weight settled into Aletha's chest. "Harry."

"Yes. Possibly."

"Or it could be Neville, I suppose – was there anything else? Anything that might tell you which one it was?"

Sirius shook his head. "Nothing I can tell you about. I'm sorry."

"All right." Aletha frowned. "Hang on. If it was made over a year ago, why are we just hearing about it now?"

"Because Dumbledore's spy in the Death Eaters has just warned him that Voldemort is gearing up to do something about it. So Dumbledore wants James and Lily and Harry, and Frank and Alice and Neville, to go into hiding right away, or as soon as they can manage it. We were discussing what kinds of spells and things to use to hide them, and if they're going to have to move, or if we can just safeguard their houses..."

Frank and Alice chose to move into a secret safehouse in the countryside, so secret that no one in the Order even knew where it was. They had been living with Frank's parents, and didn't want to expose them to unnecessary danger. James and Lily, on the other hand, had their house in Godric's Hollow, which could be safeguarded adequately. They hoped.

"They want to use the Fidelius Charm," said Sirius to Aletha at dinner. "And they've asked me to be Secret-Keeper."

Aletha smiled, allowing her pride to show while carefully hiding her fear. Being the only man between Lord Voldemort and what he wanted was horribly dangerous, there was every probability that he'd be killed...

But they have to come through me first.

"No one better," she answered without revealing her inner determination.

"Are you sure? Dumbledore volunteered for it himself."

"Yes, I'm sure. Dumbledore's a great man and a great wizard, but if anyone deserves to have those three lives in his hands, it's you."

Sirius blushed and mumbled something inaudible through a mouthful of curry (they were having Indian take-out tonight, as a change from pizza). Aletha decided she'd complimented him enough for one night and changed the subject slightly. "You'll have to make sure to tell me where they are, so I can go and visit."

"Don't worry, I will. But not for a week or so after it's performed – we want to make sure it's working out right before we disrupt it any more than we have to."

"Fine." Aletha sighed. "Any luck finding the spy?"

Sirius shook his head dismally. "None at all. Dumbledore's been trying to seed information – tell things to only certain people and see if they turn up in Death Eater communications – but so far, no luck. Whoever he is, he's clever."

The Charm was performed on 24 October. Aletha was not present – third and fourth year Healer students had to take their turns at the on-call booth, and her shift had come up at just the wrong time. She would have loved to see the intricate spellcasting of the Fidelius at work, but her duty came first.

The next week was a jumpy one. Order Headquarters seemed very empty without the Potters or the Longbottoms there. Aletha missed the babies especially, with their cheerful babbling and infectious giggles. Sirius, of course, visited the Potters daily and reported copiously, and she and Lily were owling back and forth all the time. Still, it wasn't the same.

She found herself wondering how much more the war could take away from her. People she'd loved as parents had been brutally murdered, their child stolen to suffer heaven only knew what fate. Three of her best friends were gone forever, a fourth returned but nothing like himself, two more hiding from the world because a madman wanted to murder their son...

What's left to take?

It was a question she would rue asking forever.

The Potters were sitting by their fire on Halloween night, not really talking or doing anything, just being together. Harry was grabbing at a Golden Snitch which James had charmed to fly slowly and within his reach. He was catching it a remarkable amount of the time, Lily noticed with pride. Perhaps he'd be a Seeker someday...

A shadow fell briefly across the window, then vanished. "That's odd," said James, getting up to look.

"What?"

"No one should be able to get close enough to us to cast a shadow... not unless it's Peter or Sirius, not even Dumbledore's been told yet..."

Lily turned, surprised at James' sudden silence. Her husband was frozen in the act of peering out the window. "It's him," he breathed. "It's him..."

He spun, naked fear in his eyes. "Lily, take Harry and go! It's him!"

Lily snatched up Harry and scrambled to her feet. James was pointing at the staircase, fumbling out his wand. "Go! Run! I'll hold him off!"

She stumbled up the stairs, hearing the door burst open, and a high-pitched laugh which chilled her blood.

"So, Potter, face to face once again," said Lord Voldemort, smirking. "You have defied me three times. No one has ever survived a fourth."

"Go on, then, kill me," taunted James, praying Lily would think to run, to get out the back window and down the tree which grew there, she could be in town in a few minutes, lose herself there, anything to keep her and Harry alive...

"I take no orders from the likes of you," said Voldemort silkily. "Dumbledore is always telling me that there are worse things than death. Perhaps I shall test that. On you."

A flurry of spellcasting ensued. James managed to block several spells, even getting in one hit on Voldemort, before the Dark wizard disarmed him and threw him into a wall, leaving him on the floor, drained and gasping for breath.

"A fate worse than death," said Voldemort, advancing on him. "Yes, I believe I have the perfect lot for you..."

James pulled himself up, glaring. Death, torture, or whatever this evil excuse for a man was about to do to him, he wasn't going to go out lying on his back like a bug.

Then the spell hit him, and all he could do was scream.

Lily lowered Harry into his crib and quickly covered her son's ears as James began to scream on the floor below. The sound tore into her heart with fangs and claws.

He's dying. And Harry's going to die.

She would have given anything to stop the sound.

And then it did stop.

There. He's dead. He can't suffer any more now.

She took her hands away from Harry's ears, not bothering to wipe the tears from her eyes, since more would come in an instant to take their place. Her son looked up at her, confused. "Mama?" he asked.

Unable to say anything, Lily merely kissed her son's smooth forehead, then carefully raised the side of the crib so that Harry couldn't see anything that went on in the room.

I won't let you die, she vowed silently. Not if it lies in my power to stop it.

All that she might be able to do was delay his death. But she would still do it.

The door crashed open. Lily whirled, heart in her mouth.

Lord Voldemort stood framed by the doorway. "Stand aside," he said, motioning with his wand.

"Not Harry," babbled Lily, knowing he wouldn't listen, but compelled to try – it was possible, just barely marginally possible, that he might... "Not Harry, please not Harry..."

"Stand aside, you silly girl." Voldemort's eyes bored into her. "Stand aside, now."

"Not Harry, please no, take me, kill me instead..."

"I have no interest in you," said Voldemort icily. "Only in him."

Lily tightened her hands on the crib's bars behind her.

"And now it is time to send him to his dear father."

"Not Harry!" Lily screamed as a force pushed her aside. "Please – have mercy – have mercy..."

Voldemort laughed, pointed his wand at Harry, and spoke two words. Lily didn't listen to them. All her being was focused on pushing through the magic holding her against the wall.

She broke through it just in time to take the curse on herself.

And then she knew why James had screamed.

Lord Voldemort (he never forgot his title in his own thoughts) looked with distaste at the place where the woman had been standing. Filthy Mudblood – she deserved what she'd gotten.

He stepped closer to the crib. The child inside eyed him curiously. He changed his plans in that instant. The brat would only become a greater danger to him with every passing year, no matter how strong he himself became. Killing him now was the safest way to go.

He pointed his wand at the green-eyed boy.

"Avada Kedavra!"

Sirius was doing rounds of central London, disguised as just another Muggle motorcyclist, thinking idly of other things while watching for trouble.

Letha actually made something tasty last night. Maybe she found Danger's secret stash of recipes.

Tea was nice this afternoon. We should have Peter over more often.

Wonder how soon before James or Frank and Alice can come back to work? We're getting a bit swamped without them...

He was stopped at a red light when something small and silvery caught his eye. He pulled off at the next parking lot to have a look.

It was Dumbledore's Order signal, and the small silver phoenix fluttered in a pattern which meant it contained a message. Sirius pulled off one of his gloves and held out his hand. The phoenix landed on his wrist and sank in, and a thought began to form dimly in Sirius' mind. He held back, waiting for it to materialize fully, but it was hard.

Doubly hard, as the content of the message made itself known.

Disturbance in Godric's Hollow. Please investigate immediately.

He was back on the motorcycle in an instant, kicking it started, throwing in the flying gear and secrecy be damned. His friends needed him.

He spotted the village long before he should have been able to. There was a green glow marking it. As he got closer, he realized with sinking horror that the glow was coming from Lily and James' part of town... from their street... from their house...

Which wasn't there any more.

An enormous figure was climbing out of the ruins of the house, a small bundle in his arms. Shaking so hard he could barely steer, Sirius landed, staring at what had once been one of his favorite places in the world.

"Sirius?" Hagrid loomed over him. "Yeh got th'message, then?"

Sirius nodded. "How'd you get here?" he asked in a voice he didn't recognize as his own, looking up at Hagrid's face rather than at the bundle in his arms, the bundle which could be only one thing.

His godson's body.

The words of the prophecy rang in his head.

"Either must die at the hand of the other..."

Hagrid was about to answer, when a sound from the bundle made them both look at it, Hagrid sadly, Sirius in shock.

Harry was starting to cry.

"Hagrid... he's not..."

Hagrid unfolded the blanket he had wrapped around the child so that Sirius could see his godson, wide-eyed, trembling, and with blood streaking his face, but very much alive.

"What's that from?" Sirius demanded, pointing at the blood.

"Cut on his forehead. Dunno how he got it. Funny, too – no sign'f anyone else in the house, alive nor dead. Not James, not Lily, not even You-Know-Who, and Dumbledore said it musta bin him in the house, since all his alarms went off at once – I was closest, he made me a Portkey ta get here quick..."

"He probably killed them," said Sirius, staring at the ruins of the house. "Vanished their bodies or something, so we'd have to wonder..."

Hagrid patted him awkwardly on the back, nearly sending him sprawling. "'S awful," he agreed, sniffling with a noise like a foghorn. "But strange, too – You-Know-Who never left anyone alive if he meant ter kill them – so what's little Harry doin' alive? An' where is he?"

Sirius shook his head. "Don't know. You said there's no sign of him?"

"None. An' no good askin' the neighbors, with the house bein' under Fidelius an' all..."

Harry's cries were starting to escalate. "Here, give him to me," said Sirius, holding out his arms. "I'm his godfather, I'll look after him."

"Well... only fer a little while." Hagrid's whiskery face was grave as he handed Harry over. "Orders, yeh know."

"Orders? From who?"

"Dumbledore, o'course. He told me jus' what ter do if I found Harry alive."

"Give him to me," said Sirius, rocking his godson, trying to soothe him. "I'm his guardian now, with James and Lily... gone." He forced the thought to the back of his mind. Harry needed him now.

Hagrid shook his head. "No, Dumbledore said it wouldn' be safe fer Harry ter go ter you an' Letha. Not right yet, in any case. He said Harry'd be safest with his own flesh an' blood."

"His own... Hagrid, you're not honestly suggesting taking Harry to live with Lily's sister?" Sirius stared up at the gamekeeper, aghast. "That's the only 'flesh and blood' he has left now, and that's just insane! They hate Lily, they hate magic, there's no way they'd take him in!"

"Tha's what Dumbledore told me," Hagrid reiterated. "Harry's gotta go ter his aunt and uncle."

"Bad idea," said Sirius vigorously. "Very bad idea." Then he stopped. Something had just triggered in his mind.

Peter Pettigrew, saying those very words, shaking his head.

"Bad idea, Sirius. Very bad idea."

Memory rushed over him.

"How is it a bad idea?" demanded Sirius, stung.

"Everyone knows you and James. You're like brothers, the inseparables. Everyone knows James would trust you above anyone else. You're too obvious to be the Secret-Keeper. They'd be on your doorstep within an hour after the charm was cast." Sirius hadn't seen Peter this animated about anything since Evanie had been lost. This must mean a lot to him.

"So what would you suggest?" he asked, perversely enjoying the sight of Peter excited about something for once. Maybe he was finally starting to recover.

"Do a swap. Secretly. You keep telling people you're going to be the Secret-Keeper, while someone else actually is. Lily's doing the charm herself, right? So no one else needs to know about it. Just you and James and Lily, and whoever else you pick to be Secret-Keeper."

Sirius nodded, thinking about it. It was a simple plan, but very effective. The Death Eaters could torture him all they liked, but he couldn't tell them anything except the name of the actual Secret-Keeper. Another level of security, so to speak. "I like that."

"I thought you would." Peter actually smiled.

"Would you do it?"

Peter was caught off-guard. "M-me?"

"It was your idea. You should have first refusal. Besides, this way we keep it nice and close. Just the four of us. No one else needs to know. Well, besides Letha, of course."

Peter looked alarmed. "No, wait – I'll do it on one condition."

"What?"

"Don't tell Letha."

"What? Why not? She's my wife, I tell her everything." Everything except that damned prophecy...

"Padfoot, every person who knows is another person who can tell," argued Peter, in words eerily like Sirius' own argument about the prophecy. "And do you want to see Letha get tortured or killed?" His eyes were haunted. "If they hurt someone you love, or even threaten them, you do anything you can to make them stop. Trust me. I know."

"All right, Wormtail, you win. If James and Lily agree, you're the Secret-Keeper."

They shook on it.

I have to find Peter. I have to find him. What could they have done since five o'clock this afternoon to make him spill his guts like this? How did they even know?

Harry will be all right with Lily's sister for a few days. Just until I find Peter and get everything cleared up. I know James and Lily named me guardian, Dumbledore can't very well deny him to me...

But I have to find Peter first.

"Hagrid, you can't Apparate, can you?"

Hagrid shook his head. "Nope."

"And it's not safe with a baby anyway." Sirius shifted his weight, rocking Harry, who was looking up at him with such devotion and trust that it was hard to look away. "Here, take my motorcycle. You can ride it with Harry. Get him where he has to go."

"Aw, thanks – yer sure?"

"I'm sure. You just take good care of Harry."

"I will," Hagrid promised, mounting the motorcycle, which magically expanded to fit his frame.

Sirius Vanished his helmet, sending it back to its home under the seat, and looked down at Harry again. He pulled out his handkerchief and wiped the blood from his godson's face, looking at the cut on his forehead, shaped like a bolt of lightning. "Padfoot has to go bye-bye for a little while, Harry," he said quietly. "But don't you worry too much. I'll be back for you soon."

Harry babbled something in reply, from which Sirius caught only "Pa-fuh" and "Bye-bye".

"Here, you go to Hagrid," he said, handing the child over. "You be a good boy for him, all right?"

Hagrid nodded to him, then kicked the starter and took off, steering the bike very well, Sirius thought, with only using one hand. Harry's squeal of delight was just audible over the roar of the motor.

James' son all over. Loves to fly, any way possible.

Thoughts of James and Lily threatened to take him over. Resolutely, he forced them down.

I have to find Peter. I have to see what happened to him.

He started running, moving away from the disturbed magic he could sense hanging around what had once been James and Lily's home. Let the Muggles make what they would of the destruction. Sirius Black had more important things to do tonight.

The flat where Peter lived was deserted. There were no signs of a struggle. In fact, the place was cleaner than Sirius had seen it in a long time.

Was he expecting guests?

The wedding picture of Peter and Evanie, which had been put away in a cupboard for nearly two years now, was back to its place of honor on the mantelpiece. Sirius looked at it, watching himself and his friends talking, laughing, toasting each other...

Why would he take that out?

He frowned. He was getting close to an answer of some kind, but his mind kept sheering away from it, insisting he wouldn't like it and didn't want to see it. Sirius forced himself back to it and thought hard about his friend Wormtail, Peter Pettigrew, and everything he'd done since...

Since he escaped the Death Eaters.

Or since he said he escaped. There's a bunch of holes in his story – for one thing, he could never transform under pressure. No pun intended. How would he have managed it, scared for his life? And how did a rat get away from all those snakes? He should have been lunch.

He's been missing an awful lot lately. Not with us, not with the Meads, not anywhere that we can find him. But he always comes to Order meetings.

And he suggested the switch of Secret-Keepers. It was his idea. And he acted surprised that I offered it to him, but he had to know that was coming.

And now James and Lily are dead, he's the only one who could have told anyone where they were, and he's missing...

It hit him like a slap in the dark.

He's the spy.

He's the spy we've all been looking for. He's perfect. Little, inconsequential, we look right past him...

But why? Why would he turn to the people who killed his wife?

He looked again at the picture, around at the clean flat...

You clean when you're expecting someone. Someone you haven't seen in a long time.

And we have no idea what happened to Evanie. We just tend to think she's dead, because it's easier on us that way.

What if she's not?

What if they've been using her as some kind of leverage on him?

"Tell us these little, inconsequential things, or your wife dies..."

And then little things turn into big things...

He was breathing hard now, his hands clenched around his robes. Dammit, why couldn't he just have told us they were blackmailing him?

Because then Evanie would have died, as soon as they found out he'd sold them out.

His memory provided him with Peter's bleak face, and the words that had gone with it.

"If they hurt someone you love, or even threaten them, you do anything you can to make them stop. Trust me. I know."

Sirius stared once more at the picture, at the tiny Peter and Evanie kissing over their champagne flutes.

He was expecting her home. That's what this all means. They must have told him, if he could give them something big, he'd get her back.

And he gave them the Potters.

He started looking around the flat, looking for something, anything, that was uniquely and personally Peter's. He finally settled on a small piece from a half-finished model, a small metal rod with a hole bored in one end. He quickly conjured a string, passed it through the hole, tied it off, and hung the thing around his neck. "Induco Erum," he said, tapping it with his wand.

The small thing tugged at its cord, showing him which direction to go.

Sirius left the building, a red haze clouding his vision more and more, only one thought in his mind.

He would find Wormtail.

And he would show his former friend more mercy than Voldemort had showed to James and Lily.

He would make sure that Evanie was somewhere safe before he killed Peter.

(A/N: There you are. One slightly nasty cliffy for everyone. Please do review, and be prepared for exceedingly high angst levels next chapter. But after that, things start getting ever so slightly better... though it's going to take a while for stuff to get all better, the way everyone wants... just be patient, I promise it will be OK in the end!)