"Peter."
James's voice sounded hoarse and it was concerning once Peter picked up the phone.
"Sorry, the phone line isn't really too good. . ." Peter said.
"It's not the phone." James said.
Peter frowned.
"What is it?"
From over the end, there was silence.
"It's about Sirius." And there was a sob. "Voldemort got to him."
"Oh." Peter's voice lowered. "How awful."
"He is in the hospital." James said.
His voice was soft with a sniffle. From the other end, James breathed in a sigh then let it go. The sigh sounded shaky coming from James. It was the shakiest that he had ever heard from someone who's voice wasn't too disturbed, too broken, too shattered, too sad, to sorrow-it was jarring to hear him that way. It was jarring to hear at all and unusual. It sounded unlike him.
"Are you going?" Peter asked.
He had another sob.
"I can't see him right now." James replied. "Lily and I. . . We are leaving Britain. We should have done that. We should have-"
"Hey, it's okay, you're alive, Prongs."
"Wormtail-" his voice shattered as he could visualize his old friend put a hand on his forehead and beginning to cry. "Oh my god. Oh my god."
And the phone line went dead.
And Peter grew terrified as he put the phone down.
But, he was curious (and afraid at once of what scars he might see); Sirius Black lived after a encounter with Voldemort.
How? How? How did he seal his fate in the hospital?