You can be assured that Bellatrix was as shocked as anyone about my sudden desire to be a Death Eater. But after some consideration, she gave her approval. And thus I signed away my life to some Dark Lord I had never even met and whose beliefs I only partially shared, all for the sake of family and pride.

I didn't know it at the time, but Sirius had done a little side-choosing of his own. I might have expected it; he had taken up with Headmaster Dumbledore and his rebels. This made me even more miserable, as it theoretically made us enemies, and I dreaded being confronted with some task which involved him.

Speaking of tasks, being a Death Eater was not my cup of tea. Rather, I spent a lot of time shivering in my room or meekly sitting in the corner listening to other Death Eaters discuss their plans. I don't need to tell you, I wasn't very trusted by the others, and I was as low in the ranks as it is possible to be. On top of that, I was still in school. I tried to carry out my orders as carefully and devotedly as possible, but I didn't feel at all good about spying on the other students, secretly recording their conversations with an enchanted quill, or delivering messages to the waiting Death Eater officers. Yes, I wanted to keep my family alive, what was left of it. I wanted to bring all of us honor. But the whole thing felt so dirty and low, and I got no pleasure anymore out of seeing Bellatrix, who was officious and altogether too eager to cause pain, or Narcissa, who was more interested in her fling with Lucius Malfoy.

Every day I eagerly read the list of people who had been murdered. It looked just as though I were a devoted follower, happily tracking the progress of my Lord. In reality, I was mostly checking for Sirius' name. Every day that his name didn't appear, I breathed a sigh of relief and bit back tears. Every day I wondered what the hell my stupid brother was up to now. He and his friends were becoming more active in the resistance. That James, in fact, had become a prominent figure, roundly hated by all. Perhaps some of the Death Eaters were Slytherins young enough to remember his school tyranny. I was among the youngest, but some others were not so much older. I didn't really know why this James Potter was so important, since I wasn't privy to such information, but I heard him spoken of often enough to worry about my brother's connection to him.

November 23rd, 1980.

Sirius' Flat, London

He was getting so big, my little godson. I could still remember when he was barely able to wrap his wrinkled fingers around my pinkie. Now, he was grabbing fistfuls of my hair and yanking. I knew I should have worn it back. To distract him, I bounced up and down a few times on my knee and stuck my tongue out at him, to which he shrieked in delight.

"You're not really going to take him away from me, are you, Jim?" I protested, pushing my lower lip out at my best mate in my best imitation of one of Narcissa's pouts.

"Well, now you put it that way, I guess we'll just leave him here with you," came the response. "Lily was never all that fond of him anyway."

I grinned cheekily up at James, and he waggled his eyebrows back. We were joking and laughing because we were desperately trying to avoid talking about the real issues at hand. Which, unfortunately, really did include taking my little godson away. Even worse, they included taking my best mate in all the world away. I could barely keep up my façade of idle neutrality as I stared at him.

Apparently, the façade was pretty transparent anyway, because James' smile weakened a bit and he said softly, "Don't get all down now, mate. It's not like we'll never be back." He lowered himself thoughtfully down onto the sofa beside me and made a few googly-eyes at Harry. It really was shameful how much we doted on him. Even Lily said so. "It's only in talks. We haven't even told anyone else yet." Here he gave a decidedly naughty grin and leaned in closer, conspiratorially. "I'm not even supposed to have told you, you know. Dumbledore's request. But you know how I feel about that, keeping secrets from my best mate…"

"Don't," I said suddenly and harshly. It came out a lot gruffer than I meant it, and James inhaled in surprise.

He narrowed his eyes at me quizzically. "Don't what? I thought you'd be pleased. Can you think of a time I've ever held back from you?" He was all offended and throwing his nose haughtily in the air. It was an act; I'd seen it enough times to know that James acted the snobbiest when he felt the least at ease. "I even told you about that crush I had on Agnes Isbente, and boy was that a stupid phase…"

"No," I interrupted his bantering again. "I meant, don't tell anyone else about your plan. Keep it to yourself." I could see he was about to protest again, so I beat him to it. "Not anyone!"

That gave James pause. Harry was too little to know what was going on, but he may have noticed that I'd stopped bouncing him, and neither of us was paying him the slightest attention. He put a slimy hand—he'd been sucking on it—on my cheek and gurgled. I was hoping that, when he learned how to speak, my name would be among his first words. With a name like 'Si-ri-us' though, it was a stretch.

"Well, I wasn't going to broadcast it over the Floo Network, was I?" James muttered, poking absently at the sofa cushions.

I shook my head and gave him a pleading look. "Don't you realize there are spies, Jim?" The pouting innocence in his face aroused a desire somewhere between wanting to slap him and wanting to embrace him. After all, James' tireless acceptance and cheerful energy had been what initially drew me to him, and part of what held me all these years. And yet, I shuddered to think it might also mean his downfall. "Not just any spies. They're among us, among your closest friends. Don't you see? One of your own mates is betraying you!"

James stared at me blankly a moment, then he brought his fist down hard on the sofa's armrest. The whole sofa felt the vibration and Harry squirmed in my arms. I stroked his hair, what hair he had. It wasn't much, but it was soft and black like James' hair. James, himself, meanwhile, stood with irritation and paced a bit on the rug.

"You think I don't know that? Everybody keeps telling me…" James shook his head and came to a halt, glaring at me. He pushed his glasses further up his nose. For a moment, his brows were all drawn and he looked like he wanted to spit. Then, suddenly, his whole body just collapsed and he fell to his knees. "Everybody keeps telling me, but I just can't believe it," he said weakly. "Am I supposed to accept that one of my best mates is stabbing me in the back? You don't really think that, do you, Sirius? You don't really mean to say you think Remus could be the traitor? Or Frank? Or anyone?"

His look implored me to deny my own suspicions, and, pathetically, I kept silent. What was I supposed to say to him? That I really did think our longtime mate and bosom companion, Remus, might be tempted if the enemy offered him the right thing—a cure for his curse, say? That Frank might be more interested in keeping his own young son safe than James's son? James never wanted to look at the bad in people, the truly hideous. But I had seen it face to face. I knew the evil and hatred which that hideous part could produce, had seen it in action, enough to know that it ought never to be underestimated. Yes, I knew it. I had come from its bloodline.

James took my silence as encouragement. "They'd never betray me," he stated firmly, nodding his head as though the world bent submissively to his word.

"I don't want to think so, either," I acceded. "But what if they would? Just what if? Somebody's betraying you, isn't he?" I was getting a bit heated up now, half rising from my seat, Harry clutched too tightly in my arms. "It's only a matter of who! You only have to be wrong once to lose everything, you know! That's a chance you can't afford to take!" Blood was rushing to my cheeks and my teeth clenched involuntarily. I'd rather assume the whole bloody lot of them, every member in the damn Order, were traitors than risk losing him on a dumb move!

Harry was whining. James was bristling. I wasn't getting through to him. "I could be the traitor!" I shouted, trying to drive the desperation of his situation home.

"Now that," he said with a quiet menace, "is the fucking dumbest thing you've said all day. And you know it as well as I."

There was a pause while I sat back down, defeated.

"Just… just don't tell anyone, alright?" I sighed at last. Harry was chewing on my shirt button. James was still scowling. Closing my eyes in exhaustion, I added, "I'm worried about you, James."

There was a snuffling sort of sob. I don't know if it came from Harry or James, but in a minute James was kneeling in front of me and putting his hand around my shoulder. "I know, Sirius," he said simply. He patted Harry's head. Patronizingly, he patted my head, too. I narrowed my eyes at him darkly, which made him guffaw. "You're a good dog, aren't you?" he chuckled. "Just looking out for your master."

"Keep it up and I'll bite you," I warned, but the tension had evaporated and we could laugh at each other again. Of course, it would only be a matter of time before the topic came up again, and I had confront the very real danger of losing James and Lily and Harry. But just now, just for a minute, I put it all out of my head and enjoyed just being there with them.