It was supposed to be a joke.
Sirius had convinced himself that this would be the ultimate prank—the one that would leave Severus humiliated and broken, but ultimately unharmed. After all, what could go wrong with just another harmless trap? He’d lured Severus into the Shrieking Shack under the guise of a secret meeting, promising him that James had something important to say.
James and Peter had hesitated when Sirius first suggested it. James, in particular, had been reluctant. "This is getting out of hand," he had warned. "We’ve pushed him enough." But Sirius was adamant, his eyes gleaming with excitement. He wanted Severus to suffer—to feel the weight of their years of bullying—but he assured James and Peter that it would end with a good laugh.
But they never understood the danger that came with it.
Severus had no idea what was waiting for him when he entered the shack. He was used to the Marauders' antics, to their cruel tricks. But nothing could have prepared him for what was about to unfold.
Sirius had miscalculated one critical thing: Severus was braver than he thought.
That night, the full moon had risen high in the sky, and Remus, having locked himself in the Shrieking Shack as usual, was undergoing his painful transformation into the werewolf. He’d been struggling with it for weeks now, his condition getting harder to control each month, but tonight, there was no chance of holding the beast back.
Sirius, in his frantic energy, had failed to realize that Remus might still be affected by the change. His werewolf instincts had kicked in, and as soon as Severus entered the shack, Remus’ heightened senses immediately detected the intruder.
Remus lunged, the transformation happening too fast for Sirius to stop it.
“No!” Sirius shouted in horror as he turned to see the werewolf charging. “Remus, no! Don’t—!”
But it was too late.
Severus barely had time to react. The werewolf’s claws slashed at his chest, and before Sirius could even make it to him, Remus sank his teeth into Severus’ throat with brutal force. Severus screamed, but the sound was swallowed by the chaos. Blood poured from the wound, and the light left Severus’ eyes too quickly.
Sirius watched in horror as Severus collapsed, the life draining from his body.
It was over in an instant. The prank, meant to break Severus emotionally, had shattered him completely. But the consequences were far worse than anyone could have imagined.
Remus, still in the throes of his transformation, staggered back in confusion as the reality of what had just happened began to sink in. He had killed Severus, and he had no control over it. His body trembled, his breathing shallow, as he turned to Sirius, eyes wide with terror.
“What have I done? What have I done?” Remus whispered, shaking his head in disbelief.
Sirius was frozen, his face ashen with horror. He felt the weight of what he had done—he had led Severus into this, and now Severus was dead because of it.
Peter had been left outside, unaware of what was unfolding inside the shack, and James had been too far behind to reach them in time. By the time they arrived, all they found was a broken, bloodied body.
Sirius knelt beside Severus, his hands trembling as he reached out to touch the still body. “I didn’t… I didn’t mean for this to happen,” he whispered, his voice hoarse. “I thought it was just a prank…”
But it wasn’t. Severus was dead, and there was no taking it back.
James arrived first, his eyes wild with panic. “Sirius! What happened? I heard—what is this?” He froze as he saw Severus’ body, and the look of shock on his face was quickly replaced by a deep, bone-chilling realization.
“No,” James whispered, stepping back. “You… You didn’t—”
“I didn’t mean to!” Sirius pleaded, his voice cracking. “It wasn’t supposed to go like this, James. It wasn’t supposed to end like this. I swear to you, it was a joke!”
Remus, his body shaking violently, collapsed to his knees next to Sirius. “I—I didn’t mean to hurt him. I didn’t mean to kill him… but I couldn’t control it. I couldn’t—”
James, still reeling, turned on Sirius. “You—you did this! You pushed him into it! You dragged him here. You put him in danger!” His voice rose in anger. “This is your fault, Sirius! You killed him.”
Sirius recoiled, his hands reaching out in vain. “I didn’t mean to! It was a joke! Just a joke!” His voice was raw with emotion, but James wasn’t listening anymore. The anger in James’ eyes was unmistakable. There was nothing to say to ease the pain.
Peter arrived moments later, his face pale. “What… What happened?” he asked weakly, but upon seeing the body, his face crumpled in shock.
Sirius stood up, stepping back, his chest heaving. “It’s too late. He’s gone.”
For the first time in his life, Sirius felt truly alone. The bond he had with his friends, the Marauders’ shared laughter, the carefree days of their youth—all of it seemed meaningless now. The weight of the death of Severus Snape crushed him, but the loss of his friends’ trust, of his bond with James and Remus, felt far worse.
James’ words echoed in his head: You killed him.
In the days that followed, the reality of the situation became clear. The news of Severus’ death spread quickly, but the circumstances surrounding it remained a whisper among students. The Marauders tried to carry on with their school lives, but everything had changed.
James couldn’t look at Sirius without seeing the cold, lifeless form of Severus. Their friendship had been founded on years of shared experiences, but this—this was too much. James couldn’t forgive him. The anger he had suppressed for so long had finally exploded, and he no longer knew how to be around Sirius.
“You were the one who dragged him into this, Sirius,” James said one day, voice trembling with suppressed fury. “You pushed him, and now he’s dead. How could you not see what you were doing? How could you not realize the line you were crossing?”
Sirius tried to argue, tried to make James understand that it was never meant to go this far, but nothing he said would make it better. Nothing could fix what had happened.
Remus, too, had withdrawn, consumed by his guilt. “I killed him,” he said quietly, his voice hollow. “It doesn’t matter that I didn’t mean to. I did it.”
Sirius, broken and grieving, could only watch as his two closest friends turned their backs on him. Remus was lost in his own self-loathing, and James, once a brother, was a stranger now. Peter, too, had withdrawn, unsure how to navigate the mess they had created.
In the days that followed, the reality of the situation became clear. The news of Severus’ death spread quickly, but the circumstances surrounding it remained a whisper among students. The Marauders tried to carry on with their school lives, but everything had changed.
James couldn’t look at Sirius without seeing the cold, lifeless form of Severus. Their friendship had been founded on years of shared experiences, but this—this was too much. James couldn’t forgive him. The anger he had suppressed for so long had finally exploded, and he no longer knew how to be around Sirius.
“You were the one who dragged him into this, Sirius,” James said one day, voice trembling with suppressed fury. “You pushed him, and now he’s dead. How could you not see what you were doing? How could you not realize the line you were crossing?”
Sirius tried to argue, tried to make James understand that it was never meant to go this far, but nothing he said would make it better. Nothing could fix what had happened.
Remus, too, had withdrawn, consumed by his guilt. “I killed him,” he said quietly, his voice hollow. “It doesn’t matter that I didn’t mean to. I did it.”
Sirius, broken and grieving, could only watch as his two closest friends turned their backs on him. Remus was lost in his own self-loathing, and James, once a brother, was a stranger now. Peter, too, had withdrawn, unsure how to navigate the mess they had created.
James and Remus, who had been unaware of Sirius’ involvement in the prank until the horrible result, are reeling. Their emotions fluctuate between fury and disbelief. They can’t understand how Sirius, their friend and brother, could have let it go this far. They blame him entirely for the events that led to Severus’ death. James, who had once been Sirius’ closest friend, is now full of anger, the sight of Severus’ dead body a reminder of how much trust has been broken between them.
But it’s not just their anger that hits Sirius. What hurts more is the coldness he feels from them, the emotional wall that has built between them. Remus’ eyes are full of pain and self-loathing, but there’s also resentment towards Sirius, as though he believes Sirius pushed Severus to his death with no regard for the consequences. For his part, Sirius tries to explain himself, but his words fall flat—he’s left speechless, unable to make them understand the magnitude of his regret.
Sirius feels like he’s drowning.
In the days that follow, Sirius withdraws entirely. The Marauder dorm is silent. He doesn’t sleep or eat much, barely speaking to anyone, and when he does, it’s only to apologize in broken, hollow words. But the more he tries to explain himself, the more distant and unreachable his friends seem.
His usual fiery personality is extinguished. Where once he had been the first to crack a joke or lead a scheme, now he’s consumed by thoughts of how he killed Severus. In the quiet moments, he replays that night in his mind—the way he had laughed as Severus had walked into the trap, the way he had called out for him to enter, all with no thought of what it could lead to.
But it was never supposed to go this way. He never meant for Severus to die. He never meant for Remus to lose control.
Every time Sirius closes his eyes, he hears Severus’ last scream. Every time he passes by a mirror, he sees not his own face but Severus’ bloodied, pale one. He cannot escape the guilt. It’s like a weight crushing his chest, making every breath difficult, every step heavier.
The worst part of all this is Remus.
Sirius knows that Remus is equally torn. The guilt of having killed Severus, the pain of his transformation taking someone’s life, weighs heavily on him too. But Remus is also angry—angry at the situation, angry at himself, but also angry at Sirius. He knows that the prank had been Sirius’ idea. He knows that Sirius had gone ahead with it, despite the warnings.
“I… I didn’t mean for this to happen,” Sirius whispers one evening, eyes vacant, as he stares at the floor. Remus, sitting opposite him, doesn’t respond immediately. The silence hangs heavy between them.
Remus finally speaks, his voice low but full of sorrow. “I didn’t mean to hurt him either, Sirius.” His eyes flicker to the floor. “But it wasn’t just me. You pushed him into this. You pushed him into the trap knowing what could happen. If you hadn’t done that—if you hadn’t insisted—it would never have gotten this far.”
Sirius winces, his chest tightening at Remus’ words. “I know,” he mutters. “I know. I’m sorry. I never thought it would go like this. It was just supposed to be a prank.”
But Remus can’t forgive him—not yet.
“I wish I could believe that,” Remus says, standing up. His voice cracks slightly as he continues. “But he’s dead, Sirius. He’s dead, and there’s no going back.”
Sirius’ face hardens with self-loathing. “I killed him. I… I killed him.”
The words seem to hang in the air, even as Remus walks away, leaving Sirius alone in the silence of their shared dorm. He feels a sickening emptiness in the pit of his stomach. For the first time, he wonders if Remus might never speak to him again. How could he, after everything?
James is the hardest to face.
His fury is uncontainable when he confronts Sirius about what happened. The room is thick with tension, and the air feels like it’s crackling with the weight of James’ anger.
“You did this,” James spits, voice trembling with emotion. “You pushed him into that situation. You led him straight to his death.” His words cut into Sirius like daggers. “You didn’t even think for a second what might happen, did you? You just… acted without care.”
Sirius tries to speak, but his throat is tight, and nothing seems to come out. He can’t argue. He can’t justify it. He knows James is right.
“I didn’t mean to—” Sirius begins, but James cuts him off.
“You never mean to do anything, Sirius,” James snaps, pacing. “It’s always some stupid prank, always some stupid game to you. But people die when you play games like that. You think I’m supposed to just forgive you? You think Remus is supposed to just forget? Severus is dead, and we don’t get to just move on.”
Sirius’ head lowers as if he’s been struck. He can’t bring himself to look James in the eye. All he can feel is the weight of his own actions crushing him from the inside.
James continues, voice faltering with sadness, “I don’t even know who you are anymore.”
The next few days are a blur. Sirius barely leaves his room, save for when it’s necessary. His friends have pulled away, and the weight of their rejection, coupled with the guilt of Severus’ death, leaves him numb.
He doesn’t eat, doesn’t sleep. There are nights where he just lies in bed, staring at the ceiling, wishing he could undo the past. But it’s too late for that. He can’t change what happened. He can’t bring Severus back.
The depression sets in. He becomes withdrawn, isolated, and his usual mischievous nature fades completely. The other Marauders don’t know what to do with him. They can’t fix this. They don’t know how to deal with the broken version of Sirius that has emerged.
One night, after a particularly intense argument with Remus, Sirius locks himself in his room. He sits by the window, staring blankly out at the dark sky. His thoughts turn darker, and the weight of everything feels like it’s suffocating him. What good is he? What’s left for him to live for?
His hands shake as he reaches for the small, almost forgotten razor in the corner of his desk, but before he can do anything, he hears a voice—James’ voice, faint and worried—calling from the hall.
"Sirius? Are you alright?"
For the first time in days, Sirius doesn’t feel completely alone. He lowers the razor, shuddering as tears fill his eyes. Maybe it’s not too late. Maybe he can still fix this.