Disclaimer: Yup, yup, don't own Harry Potter and all that.

Sirius had never had a problem with his bike until now. All the times he had ridden it with James, it had performed admirably, accelerating to lightning speed with the slightest urge. Tonight, it was simply too slow.

"Come on, come on," he muttered as houses and cars sped along beneath him. Reckless, impulsive, McGonagoll would have said, but he didn't care if his flying motorbike ended up splashed on the front page of every Muggle newspaper in Britain. All he cared about was getting to Godric's Hollow.

Worthless, worthless Peter Pettigrew! Sirius thought, a fresh surge of hatred charging his veins with fire. Some reasonable voice in the back of his mind was telling him that he could be wrong, there might be no sign of a struggle because Peter was a pitiful duelist, Voldemort could have simply finished him off quickly – but that wasn't right. He would not have taken the body, because he would know that someone would come to the very conclusion that Sirius had, and race towards the Potters. His fault, all his fault, Lily and James and little Harry could all be dead now—

His stomach lurched as Godric's Hollow finally came into view. Smoking wooden wreckage had replaced the Potters' home, and a familiar bulky frame was facing it, great bushy head bowed. Sirius' bike landed on what had been the trim front lawn and he stumbled off it. His lungs would not work, air would not come, and from beneath a splinter of the door protruded a single pale hand, too big to be Lily's. Sirius choked, and the one in front of the house turned around.

"Hagrid," croaked Sirius, some amount of relief making its presence known. "Hagrid, Lily – James – the baby—"

But the baby was wailing in one massive hand, tiny fists pumping madly.

"Baby's fine," grunted Hagrid unnecessarily, tears audible in his voice. "Jus' got ter – ter get him ter Dumbledore. He'll sort him out. Yeh'd best not hang round here, Sirius."

Harry was okay. Harry was screaming, crying, and fighting to get free, but he was alive. Sirius took half a step towards him.

"He's alive," he said breathlessly, drowning a hysterical urge to laugh. "He's – he's okay." Sirius turned to Hagrid. "What about – what about Lily?" he asked. James' hand, lying half-concealed, gave him enough incentive not to ask after him… his best friend… his very best friend…

"D-dead," Hagrid stuttered, obviously about to burst into tears himself.

Sirius' knees nearly gave out. He forced himself to remain standing. "Dead," he repeated weakly. "Lily and James, dead, how could I… how could I let this—"

"Don'," said Hagrid firmly, his Harry-free hand coming down unusually gently on Sirius' shoulder. "Don' blame yourself, Sirius. How could yeh've stopped it?"

So many things he could have done – remained Secret-Keeper – gotten there sooner – but Sirius kept his mouth closed for fear of vomiting.

"Yer all righ'," Hagrid said warmly. "Yer all righ' now, aren' yeh? Think James'd want yeh blamin' yourself?"

The honest answer was no, and that only made Sirius feel worse. He let out a choked sob, pressing his arm across his eyes, feeling like he had when he was a teenager, seeing hurt and betrayal in Remus Lupin's eyes after he had learned of Sirius' failed attempt to lead Snape down the tunnel to the Shrieking Shack. He had let Remus down that night and it could have cost their friendship; he had let the Potters down tonight, and it had cost their lives.

It seemed like hours before he was able to open his eyes and remove his arm from his face, and no sooner had he done just that than he noticed a new addition to little Harry's face.

"What is that?" he asked, approaching Hagrid and examining the baby's forehead. A scar shaped like a bolt of lightning was etched into the smooth, young skin. "How did…?"

And then it was clear to him.

"No!" he cried, looking from Hagrid's hairy, tearful face back to Harry's red one. He had stopped wailing, but was still sniffling. "Voldemort – he didn't – try—" And then he cut himself off again, inhaling deeply.

"Give Harry to me, Hagrid," he said, noting that his voice was far steadier than he actually felt. "I'm his godfather, I'll look after him."

"Can' do that," Hagrid said gruffly. James' hand was still visible beneath the door. Sirius was trying his hardest not to look at it. "Harry's ter go stay with his aunt an' uncle, Lily's sister an' her husband."

"Them?" Sirius cried. "No! I've heard horror stories about them, Hagrid, they abhor magic, they hate Lily, the sister used to run from us as we got off the train from Hogwarts! He can't go there, he can't live with them!"

"Dumbledore's orders," Hagrid said sadly. "He's ter grow up – away from the Wizarding world. On Dumbledore's orders."

Sirius swallowed his rebuttal. Had he listened to Dumbledore about switching Secret-Keepers, Lily and James would still be alive, Harry's forehead would be unblemished, and he would not be facing a life with Lily's wretched sister.

"Right," Sirius said rather wildly, his eyes darting to James' hand and back again. "Dumbledore's orders. Here—" he rushed over to stand his bike up, clumsily performing an Engorgement Charm so Hagrid could ride it. "Take this, I won't – I won't need it anymore." Tears had rushed to his eyes again. He was speaking the truth. Could he ever ride it without remembering James?

Hagrid's beetle eyes crinkled and he pulled Sirius into a bone-breaking hug. "Always had a good heart, yeh did," he said thickly, and Sirius could feel himself trembling against Hagrid's bulk. "I'll get this back to yeh, Sirius. Yeh'll want it again, no matter what yeh think righ' now. Sorry I've got ter rush, but Dumbledore's waitin' an' this little one needs – needs a nap."

Hagrid released him and he nodded frantically, wiping his eyes again. Harry had now recognized Sirius and was holding out his arms expectantly, smiling his baby's smile. Sirius wanted to hug him and kiss his head and tell him everything would be all right – he'd look after him, he'd keep him safe – James had always teased him about not wanting kids, but now there was nothing Sirius wanted more.

He turned away instead, seeing in his mind's eye Harry's face crumple as the wailing started up again, until the noise was lost amidst the bike's roar as Hagrid took off into the night and Sirius was left standing alone in front of the ruins of his best friend's house.

At first, he didn't know what to say. The autumn air was crisp and sweet smelling, and it shifted his hair as it blew. His eyes were again drawn to James' hand.

Briefly he thought of burying them, and then another thought drove the first completely from his head: Get Pettigrew.

Sirius' mouth twitched up at one corner, feeling a sort of manic happiness. Get Pettigrew.

Before embarking on the chase that would result in a dozen Muggles' deaths and his own arrest and twelve-year incarceration, Sirius bowed his head. They were simple, almost meaningless words, and there was so very much he wanted to say, but he knew James understood.

"Happy Halloween, Prongs."

And then he was gone.