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Peter hadn't answered his owl.
Sirius gripped the handlebars of his motorcycle tighter as he flew, trying to keep his unease at bay. He'd arranged with Peter to check in today and had sent the owl the day before as a reminder, but the lack of an answer bothered him. Peter might be slow at answering mail, but this was important.
The motorbike descended over a field of overgrown grass next to an old, decrepit farmhouse. Sometimes Sirius thought Peter's hiding spot, though seemingly abandoned, was a bit obvious. Better to hide in one house among many, Sirius thought, than a place that could very clearly be used as a hideout. But it was well-enough protected, and Dumbledore had approved, so Sirius couldn't really argue.
Sirius left the bike in the middle of the field and knocked on the door. "Peter, open up! It's me!"
There was no reply.
"Come on, Wormtail, first you don't reply to my owl, now this? Don't leave a friend standing in the cold!" He tried to keep his tone light, joking, but the unease was beginning to turn into true worry. When there was still no reply he raised his wand and pushed open the door.
The house was dark and cold. This in itself wasn't completely unusual, but everything seemed almost too neat. Peter was a messy person by nature, and there were usually mugs stacked near the sink, or plates sitting on the table. There was none of that now.
"Lumos," Sirius whispered. With his wand lit, he searched through the kitchen more carefully. The only thing that seemed out of place was that nothing was out of place. The cleanliness sent shivers crawling up Sirius's spine.
He moved onto the little living room. Here, too, everything was neat. The blanket was folded up on the couch, the coffee table straightened out in front of it.
Worry was turning to dread as Sirius turned and bounded up the stairs. The bed in the bedroom was made, the bathroom counter neat and devoid of the usual toiletries. Sirius stood there staring at the sink and tried to control his breathing.
Something was horribly wrong. Peter was gone – had left, it appeared, as there was no sign of a struggle. It looked like he wasn't planning on coming back. Where had he gone?
And the scarier question – why?
Sirius looked at himself in the mirror. His face was pale, and the blue light of his wand made his skin look waxy.
James and Lily, he thought. He rushed back down the stairs and out of the house, nearly knocking his bike over as he leapt onto it. He took off and pushed it as fast as it would go. They had agreed not to Apparate in and out of Godric's Hollow, since they suspected the Death Eaters might be watching Bathilda under the suspicion that she was working with the Order. Sirius wasn't about to put her in danger as well.
He landed a bit faster than was strictly safe on the street where James and Lily lived. He stumbled off the bike, turned toward the house, and stopped dead.
It was destroyed. The right side of the top floor – where Harry's nursery had been, Sirius realized with a jolt – had been blown apart.
Sirius fell to his knees. Something was breaking inside him. He didn't want to go in, didn't want to find what he knew he would find… his best friends, dead, his godson…
Something moved in the entrance to the house. Sirius jumped to his feet and rushed forward on shaky legs. It was a moment before he recognized it was Hagrid emerging from the rubble, carrying a small, wailing bundle in his arms.
"Hagrid," Sirius said hoarsely, "what –" his eyes fell on the bundle. "Is that Harry?"
Hagrid nodded. His eyes were red and watery, his face tear-streaked.
"James and Lily," Sirius began, and Hagrid shook his head.
"Dead," Hagrid croaked. "But Harry survived, an' – well, somethin' happened, 'cause You-Know-Who's dead too, or as good as."
Sirius crumpled. Hagrid supported him with one arm, clumsily patting his back. Sirius clung on to him, trying in vain to control his ragged breathing. After several minutes, he forced himself to straighten. Harry was still crying, and Sirius stared at him for a moment. A deep sadness washed through him for Harry, that he would never know his parents. The weight of responsibility settled on him, but it was a responsibility he would take gladly.
"Where are you taking him, Hagrid? I'm his godfather, I can look after him."
Hagrid shook his head. "Dumbledore said he's to go ter his aunt and uncle's house."
Sirius frowned. "Aunt and uncle's – you mean Petunia? Lily hasn't spoken to her in ages! They hate each other!"
"I'm sorry, Sirius, it's Dumbledore's orders."
"Look," Sirius began, "he can't go to Petunia's, she hated Lily for having magic. She'll hate Harry, too!"
Hagrid shifted uncomfortably. "I don' know if that's true… but if it is, you can talk to Dumbledore about it. I reckon he knows what he's doin'."
Sirius stared at Harry for another moment, and then the reason he had come rushing here, the reason for all of this came back to him.
Wormtail. Peter. One of their best friends had betrayed them.
The anger blossomed inside of him, hot and bright, and Sirius knew then that he would be no good to Harry in this state. He was the only one who knew the truth. He had to find Wormtail.
"Fine," he said, and this time it was rage he tried to keep from his voice rather than fear or grief. "Fine – take my motorbike, why don't you? I won't need it anymore."
Hagrid looked at him, concerned, but Sirius kept staring resolutely at Harry, refusing to meet his gaze. "What're you talkin' about? You love that bike."
"I don't need it," Sirius insisted. "Please, just take it."
Hagrid was silent for a moment. "All right," he said finally. "You take care of yourself, Sirius, ya hear?"
Sirius nodded dumbly as Hagrid clapped him on the shoulder. He leaned forward and kissed Harry's forehead, noticing the strange scar that had appeared there. Harry quieted a little at his touch.
"Goodbye, Harry," Sirius whispered, so quietly he wasn't sure even Hagrid had heard. "I'll see you soon, I hope." He nodded up at Hagrid, whose eyes had filled with tears again, and then Hagrid was walking away, a softly crying Harry in his arms. Sirius didn't watch as Hagrid climbed on the bike and started it, as it rose into the sky. When at last the rumbling of the engine had faded into nothingness, Sirius turned toward the house.
The front door was ajar. Sirius stared at it, wishing he could see through it, prepare himself somehow for the devastation that lay beyond. Finally, he forced himself forward, and with a trembling hand, pushed open the door.
James lay in the hallway, face turned to the ceiling, his arm flung out to the side. Sirius fell to his knees, trying and failing to keep the sob from escaping him as he crawled to James' side. His face was frozen in fear, his eyes staring blankly upward, his wand nowhere to be found.
"James…" Sirius whispered.
The guilt washed over him then, the realization that it had been he who'd done this, who'd sentenced his best friend to death. He'd put his trust in the wrong person, and James and Lily had died for his mistake. He clutched James' shirt, shouting and sobbing and shaking him, but no matter how much he begged, James didn't stir.
After what felt like hours, he sat up. He looked at James for a long time, wanting to memorize every detail of his face and at the same time hating himself for it, because he knew this was not how James would want to be remembered. Finally he reached out and closed James' eyes under his glasses.
Then he stood. There was one more friend to say goodbye to.
He glanced into the kitchen and sitting room, but Lily wasn't there. He knew she wouldn't be, but it felt wrong not to check, not to walk through this house one last time. He spotted James' wand lying on the couch. If he'd had it…
It had been Voldemort he was up against, Sirius reminded himself. It probably wouldn't have made much of a difference. He left the wand where it was and made his way upstairs.
Lily was lying in front of the crib. Sirius could see it in his mind's eye, Voldemort coming up the stairs after murdering James, Lily with nowhere to run, putting Harry down and trying to protect him. Sirius wondered if it was her who had, somehow, defeated Voldemort, killing herself in the process as well. But that scar… no, Harry had most certainly been attacked, and that could only have happened after Lily was already dead.
The floor was mostly intact, but a large portion of the wall and ceiling was gone. Was this what a rebounding Killing Curse did?
Sirius knelt by Lily. Her face too was desperate and afraid, and Sirius knew that whatever had happened here, by whatever miracle Harry had survived, it hadn't been planned. There had been no hope, for Lily. Even as she tried to protect her son, she had known that he would be killed right along with her.
Sirius swallowed painfully as he reached out and slid her eyes closed. Then he stood, and made his way back downstairs. He paused next to James' body, and looked at his best friend one last time. Then he walked out into the night. Dumbledore would be here soon, he was sure. He would take care of everything else.
In the meantime, Sirius had a rat to find.
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