Sirius POV - Part 1
London looked beautiful from above. Sirius loved it. The wind in his face, the sparkling lights below him. It all made him feel alive. He missed the boy that would sit behind him though, always nattering on about something. Remus wouldn’t go out with him and Sirius had given up asking him to ages ago. Instead, he went out alone and often lost track of time. He should probably go out to buy some more groceries, they were running low on a few things, but the shops had already closed. He would go tomorrow, just before he went to surprise James. They hadn’t seen each other in a while now, Moody had told them off. He had said it was only putting the Potters in more danger than they were already in. And that was the last thing Sirius wanted to do.
It was getting quite cold now and Sirius should probably go back to his home. He liked it there, or he used to. It felt less and less like a home nowadays. There was no laughter that filled the air like there used to be, no music playing when he got home. There was a feeling of emptiness about the place. Sirius couldn’t remember the last time they had sat down for a meal together.
Still, Sirius went home every night. Where else could he go? It’s not like he could go to James’ anymore. Effie and Monty were dead. Marlene was dead. Peter… he didn’t particularly fancy spending some quality time with Peter. It’s not that he didn’t like Peter, it was just awkward. Peter would talk about Sirius’ motorbike, Sirius would ask about Peter’s job at the ministry, they would talk about the good old days back at school and then they would sit in silence twiddling their thumbs.
So he went back to his shared flat. It was dark and quiet when he got there, the only tell-tale sign that Remus was even there was his shoes by the door. Not that it mattered anyway. Remus was a grown man, he could take care of himself and do as he pleased.
Sirius sighed and hung up his coat, then walked to the sofa he had turned into his bed. Remus hadn’t seemed to mind his new sleeping location, he had only nodded silently before turning back to read the daily prophet. It was like he didn’t even care if Sirius was there or not. He didn’t seem to care that James and Lily and Harry were all in danger.
Because he’s the spy and he’s mad he wasn’t made secret-keeper.
Sirius shook the thought from his head. Peter was the best decision. And although Sirius knew the Potter’s location, he couldn’t tell anyone. He was certain that if he was the secret keeper, Remus would have easily been able to coax the answers from him. Remus still thought it was Sirius, yet he hadn’t asked for the location.
That was probably just a hoax. He wanted Sirius to believe he was innocent and then when the time was right he would go for the kill.
Sirus noticed the empty bottle on the floor and rolled his eyes before kicking it away. Then he lay down and tried to go to sleep.
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Sirius woke early and the flat was still dark. It was Halloween. Sirius couldn’t help but think of James and how disappointed he must be that he couldn’t take Harry out. Sirius would have to buy lots of treats for him to take around this evening. He could make it a surprise, James loved surprises.
He got dressed and left the flat without even glancing at Remus. He couldn’t remember the last time they had spoken properly. They had probably fought about something and Sirius probably marched out. He spent a lot of his time out of the house, flying over London or browsing the stores in Diagon Alley or even muggle London. His favorite store was just down the street next to a fish and chips shop. That’s where he was heading. It was a music shop, filled with various records and band-tees and merchandise. Marlene loved it here, the two of them spent some time here together.
Sirius didn’t buy anything, he just flicked through the records and went on his way. The next stop was the flower shop where he bought a few of the most beautiful, best-smelling flower bouquets he could find.
“You’re in here often,” the cashier remarked. She was a middle-aged chubby, friendly-looking woman. They had never really spoken before. “Are these for the missus?”
Sirius looked at her, puzzled. “Oh, no, I’m not…” he said.
“Oh! I’m sorry! I just thought a handsome young fellow like you would… Nevermind. Who are they for, if you don’t mind me asking?” she asked hurriedly, her face turning red with embarrassment.
“Just some friends,” Sirius sighed.
“That’s so sweet of you! You sound like such a lovely friend to-”
“They’re dead. These are for their graves,” Sirius interrupted her. They both fell silent, staring at each other awkwardly.
“Well, some are for my best mate and his wife, though. I’m going to see them later, they have the cutest kid,” Sirius tried to lighten the mood.
“That’s… That’s lovely! How old is he?” the woman asked, a smile spreading across her face.
“Oh, he’s 21,” Sirius answered, passing her a few notes and picking up the flowers.
“I meant the kid!” She laughed, “But 21 is a bit young, isn’t it? How old’s the wife?”
“She’s 21 too. Their son, Harry, is 15 months old. I thought it was young too but, well, they seem really happy and Harry is amazing,” Sirius told her. “Well, thanks for the flowers, I best be off now. Have a lovely day!”
“You too!”
And with that, Sirius left the shop, carrying more flowers than he should be for people who shouldn’t be dead. He had lied, he hadn’t planned on buying flowers for James and Lily, but the woman seemed so distraught by the reality, he had to say something. And talking about James always perked him up, so it was a win-win, really.
He made his way to the graveyard and slowly walked through the lanes of graves until he found what he was looking for.
Marlene McKinnon, 1960-1981
Dorcas Meadows, 1959-1981
Fabian and Giddeon Prewett, 1947-1981
Fleamont Potter, 1909-1979 and Euphemia Potter, 1908-1979
The Bones Family
Sirius placed a bouquet on each of their graves and sat on the floor beside Marlene’s. They had become close during their last years at Hogwarts and went on many missions for the order together. Marlene always found ways to make you laugh and she was a great fighter. She was probably Sirius’ favourite mission partner, after James of course. He never went on any with Remus. And that was probably for the best.
Marlene’s life was cut too short, she deserved to live a long, long life full of laughter and love. She never did confess her love to Dorcas. It was a shame because Sirius could tell by the way Dorcas looked at Marlene that she felt the same way. Unfortunately, they were both oblivious, just like he and Remus had been. James was the one who had pushed them. Sirius should have pushed Marlene. But he didn’t. And now she was dead, and Dorcas was dead, both of them buried in the ground next to each other.
Just like Effie and Monty. Sirius never let their flowers die. He remembered how James would sit by their grave for hours and hours, wordlessly sobbing until someone would drag him home. Sirius sat with him most days. Although they weren’t his parents, they felt more like home than Walburga and Orion ever did. It should be them dead, not the Potters. Anyone but the Potters.
Sirius stayed at the graveyard for a while before deciding to go to the shops for the groceries. He could pick some up for James at the same time. Peter might have already done that, but it wouldn’t hurt if he did too.
He picked up his own groceries and a few treats for Harry, some wine for Lily (seeing as dealing with James all day every day couldn’t be easy) and he went all the way to Diagon Alley for some quidditch magazines for James.
It was nearing evening when Sirius got back to the empty flat. Remus was Merlin knew where. He started unpacking the shopping and then made himself some cheese on toast for dinner.
Then he picked up his keys and went to his Motorbike. He knew the way to the Potters like the back of his hand by now and took his time getting there. There was no rush, James and Lily usually stayed up late. He parked his bike down an alley a few streets down from James’ house. It was a lovely house, big and spacious with a large back garden.
He turned the last corner and the Potter’s house came into view.
Or, what was left of it.
There, where the Potter’s beautiful house with its beautiful garden once stood, no stood an unrecognizable building. Sirius froze at the sight, dropping all of the things he had brought for the Potters.
This had to be the wrong house. Had he taken a wrong turn somewhere? He couldn’t have. Those were Lily’s rose bushes, now destroyed and dead. Harry’s little bike was still outside. The windows were smashed in and half of the roof in the upper right of the house had been blasted off.
It was all wrong. So, so wrong. This couldn’t be James’ home.
James.
That’s all it took for Sirius to sprint up to the open door, legs shaking and heart racing. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. He slipped his wand into his hand, clutching onto it to ground himself. He held it at the ready, just in case.
The house was dark. It was never dark. Lily always left a light on, just in case Harry got up at night so he didn’t fall over anything.
“Lumos,” Sirius whispered into the still air. The Potter’s house was never quiet. There was always something making noise, be it the buzz of the fridge, the squeals of delight from Harry, James laughing or Lily mocking him.
Sirius' hands were shaking. James. Where the hell was James??
His heart plummeted, and his knees buckled as he collapsed to the floor. Right there in front of him lay a boy. No, not just any boy—James. Lifeless, sprawled on the cold, unforgiving ground.
“James?” Sirius’s voice quivered, barely above a whisper, strangled by the lump in his throat. The silence that followed was deafening, an echo of a thousand unspoken words he’d never get to say. With trembling hands, he inched forward, fingers brushing the edges of James's sleeve as if afraid touch alone might shatter what was left of him. His hands slipped beneath James’s shoulder, and with agonizing slowness, he turned him over.
“James—” His voice cracked, the sound caught between a whimper and a howl. It was James. He was gone. Gone. Taken. Betrayed. Dead. Lying cold and empty on the floor. Not James. He couldn’t be—it couldn’t be James. The universe would never be so cruel.
A choked sob clawed its way out of Sirius’s chest as he pulled James's body into his arms, pressing his best friend’s head to his heart, hoping somehow that he could share its beat, hoping he could will it to beat for them both. He rocked back and forth, his fingers tangled in James's hair, as if holding him tighter would keep him from slipping further away.
No. NotJames. Please, anyone else. But not James. Not his James.
And then rage surged up, hot and unforgiving, colliding with the grief as his vision blurred. Fucking Peter. The rat. That traitorous, vile, cowardly rat who had sold them out, who had left James here, alone and defenceless.
His gaze fell on the shattered pieces of James's glasses scattered on the floor. James’s glasses—he needed them. He couldn’t see without his glasses. Carefully, Sirius picked up the bent frames, aligning them with shaking hands before placing them back on James’s face. There. As if it could make him look like himself again. But it didn’t. It couldn’t.
“I’ve got you, you’re going to be okay—I can help. I will help. I’ll fix this. I have to.” The words spilt out between sobs as his tears fell onto James's face, mixing with the dirt and coldness of death. He clung to the fragile hope that if he could just get him to St. Mungo’s, everything could be undone. It was James. James couldn’t die. He wasn’t allowed to die. Not like this. Not here. Not so young.
Sirius pulled him closer, cradling James in his arms like he could protect him even now like he could shield him from what had already taken him. “This isn’t funny, James,” he choked out, rocking him gently. “Tell me this is one of your stupid pranks. You can’t… you wouldn’t.” But there was no warm laugh, no punchline. Only the cold, final silence.
And reality settled over him, heavy and brutal: James was gone. Really gone. And there was nothing left but Sirius’s broken heart and his best friend’s still form, lying cold and lifeless in his arms.
A faint, fragile cry echoed through the hollow silence of the house, but it barely registered in Sirius’s mind. His world lay broken at his feet, shattered beyond repair. The one person he could always go to, the one who had been his unwavering constant, was dead. Gone. Forever.
He’d never hear James’s laugh again, that loud, infectious cackle that lifted even his darkest days. Never watch him soar over the Quidditch pitch, the wind tangling in his wild hair as he tried to show off in front of Lily. They’d never have another wordless conversation, reading each other's thoughts with a single glance. Never bump shoulders in passing, never argue about ridiculous things just for the fun of it, never sneak into each other’s beds to whisper about everything and nothing at all.
His best friend was gone. His world, his anchor, his light in the darkness. James Potter. Gryffindor’s golden boy, whose confidence and charm brightened every room. The one who had been top of their class and yet the one always caught pulling pranks. Quidditch star, Head Boy, the James Potter. His James Potter.
James Potter, who had risked everything and became an Animagus at fifteen, just to help Remus through his darkest nights. The boy who loved fiercely, cared deeply, and gave every part of himself to the people he held close. A son, cherished by his parents. Now a husband and father, loved beyond measure.
James Potter, his brother. His one and only. His family when his own had left him alone. His ride-or-die, his forever.
Gone. The light in those hazel eyes was gone. Sirius would never see that bright, mischievous grin again. It was over. James was dead. And a part of Sirius died with him.
The crying continued and painfully pulled Sirius back to reality, back to the silence of the house and the weight of his own breath.
Lily. Harry.
With painstaking care, he laid James gently back on the floor, his fingers lingering on his friend’s cold shoulder for one last, reluctant second. Then he turned and bolted up the stairs.
In the doorway of the nursery, he stumbled to a halt, his heart breaking all over again. Lily. She lay crumpled on the floor, her arms outstretched toward Harry's crib, her body frozen in her final act of love. She had fought for him, given everything for him. She’d died trying to protect her son.
Gone. Both of them—just like that. Sirius’s mind swirled with memories of her laughing, of her eyes lighting up when she looked at James or held Harry. Lily. Lily wasn’t supposed to die. Neither of them deserved this.
Harry’s cries became more frantic. Sirius stumbled forward, reaching into the crib and lifting the baby into his arms, rocking him softly. “Shh… I’m here, Harry,” he whispered, voice raw. “I’m here. You’re safe.” Harry clung to him, his tiny fists clutching Sirius’s shirt, unaware of the terrible, empty space around them.
But Sirius’s numbness soon gave way to a seething, red-hot fury that ignited in his chest. He gritted his teeth, his jaw clenched so tightly it hurt.
Peter. Peter, who’d spent years idolising James, who James had trusted with his life. Peter, who had looked him in the eyes just days ago and reassured him they were safe. Peter was the traitor.
Sirius’ grip tightened as the realization washed over him. Peter, the rat—the coward—who had sold them out.
An icy determination steadied him as he gently placed Harry back in the crib, whispering, “I’ll be back, I promise.” He turned and moved quickly down the stairs, pausing only for a moment by James’s side. The reality of it struck him all over again. He didn’t move, didn’t breathe. Because he was dead.
James was dead. Lily was dead. And it was because of Peter.
Sirius swallowed hard, forcing down the rage and grief, forging them into one fierce purpose. His hands balled into fists, trembling with barely contained anger as he marched toward the door.
“What on earth’s goin’ on ‘ere?” Hagrid’s deep voice rang out, catching sight of him in the doorway.
Sirius didn’t answer. He shoved past Hagrid, mind consumed with a single thought.
Peter.