Author: Logarith.Aveon

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Summary: A one shot fic; the subject is the night that Lily and James were killed by Lord Voldemort. The story is told from the perspective of Sirius Black, and is written in third person. It has various other bits, however, that are from the perspective of others.

A/N: Just a little thing that I wrote while I struggled with writers block on 'The Spirit Tome'. It's a ploy to keep you from stoning me to death while I attempt to push out the next chapter.

Read and Enjoy.

Warning: R, for violent imagery. Not that much,

Plead: Generic review beg, etc., etc.


The moon was high in the sky, shining a sinister light down onto the Forbidden Forest. The silvery light illuminated the dampened floor of the Forest, wetted by an evening rainfall. Small creatures hopped back and forth upon the muddy earth, eating food and unknowingly preparing for the day when they would be eaten by larger predators.

This deep in the forest, the trees had managed to grow to an enormous height, often surpassing two hundred feet. A small pond surrounded the base of one of these massive trees. A few feet away was an unassuming flat wall of earth, which was also the side of a small hillock.

The moonlight shone, unimpeded by any of the lofty trees of the forest, across this rock face that was hidden deep in the middle of the forest. In the middle of the sheer wall of the embankment was a small cave; it looked as though a giant wielding a pickax gouged it out of the stone. This cave was not an ordinary cave, however. It had a special magical enchantment upon it, so that only the few who knew the counterspell could actually see it. Those who did not would only see an ordinary cliff, overgrown with vines.

One of the few who did know of the cave was approaching the area, speeding along towards a long strip of shorn grass atop of a large motorcycle, in which the engine rumbled loud enough to be heard for miles. The rider's long black hair flew out behind him, flapping about dramatically in the wind, and he winced as dust blew into his handsome face.

Sirius Black knew it was risky to travel to Peter's hideout with such an obvious mode of transportation, but with the anti-Apparition barrier erected around the area, it was the fastest way to get to the cave.

Sirius had never cared much about risks.

He touched down lightly upon the ground; the landing made barely the slightest noise as it hit the ground, which was unexpected for such a large vehicle. After turning off the engine, Sirius hopped off the motorcycle, brushing his hair back behind his ears as it dropped in front of his eyes.

Lightly kicking the balancing brace into place, Sirius strode across the field towards where he knew the cave was hidden. The towering trees blocked the moonlight as he stepped through the foliage surrounding the field, and he was suddenly plunged into shadow. As he walked around the trunk of a gigantic elm, he listened to the sounds of the forest.

Or, more precisely, the total lack thereof.

The silence in the trees didn't worry Sirius. He suspected that the motorcycle had startled all of the animals into silence. So, unconcerned by the absolute quiet of the forest, Sirius strode into the moonlight once again as he entered the grassy field that surrounded the small pond.

Sirius glanced disinterestedly at the lake, and pulled out his wand. Sirius turned to face the rock wall, and lifted his wand as high as he could above his head. Sirius, smirking, then swished it down and pointed it towards the wall, while shouting the counterspell.


Bright blue sparks came blasting out of the end of the wand; a veritable rain of them splashed against the stone. As the glowing sparks connected with the wall, the illusion burned away beneath them; a small pop noise sounded whenever one burned out of existence.

An unnerving sight greeted Sirius once the illusion had completely dissolved away.

Complete darkness.

"Peter? Where are you?"


"What did you say?"

Lord Voldemort was surprised.

This was an exceedingly rare thing to see, as the self-styled Dark Lord had made it a policy to consider any eventuality; having something catch him by surprise was a very uncommon occurrence. Naturally, none of the circle of Death Eaters commented on the look of abject surprise on their Master's face; they would most likely find themselves on the wrong side of a Cruciatus curse.

Lord Voldemort was staring at the diminutive little man before him, who had just said something he had completely not expected. "What did you say?" he repeated, his red eyes staring intently at the minute wizard.

Peter Pettigrew stood before him, looking visibly pleased with himself. His left hand raked back through his thinning brown hair, and he scuffed his feet lightly, plainly trying not to smile. He looked up, meeting the crimson gaze that was upon him, and spoke.

"I can give you the Potters."

Voldemort continued to watch the traitorous worm before him for several moments, who had begun to look uncomfortable with the constant stare of the Dark Lord. Despite not having moved, he was internally considering the offer; well, it not so much of an offer, as Pettigrew had forfeited any choice in the matter as soon as he had said he had the information. Whether or not he decided to change his mind in the next few moments was insignificant. Lord Voldemort had his own interrogation methods, and they had never failed yet.

It had been an awkward situation. He had been getting ever closer to the Potters and soon would have been able to attack in any case, but somehow the information that he was after the Potters had gotten out. The information had then gotten to the worst person possible: Albus Dumbledore, the Mudblood-Lover and foolish old man, who had an unfortunately large amount of magical ability.

Voldemort snorted lightly at the thought of Dumbledore; people had the gall to say that he was afraid of the idiotic centenarian. The man had been suffering from senescence for too long; last that he had heard he was hardly able to get out of his bed in the mornings.

Voldemort mused internally at the irony of calling Dumbledore old, when he himself intended to be alive forever.

He turned suddenly, so suddenly that several of the Death Eaters in the enclosing circle were startled by the movement, and faced a mirror hanging on the wall. The mirror was very old, and did not reflect the face of the one who looked into it. The reflective surface was a deep, blood red color, and looked more as though it were liquid upon the wall then a solid substance.

Written on the back of the mirror was a brief history of the mirror; apparently, a great Seer from the age of Greece was overseeing the construction of it, and had been stabbed repeatedly in the back; a jealous former lover had decided that if he did not have her, nobody else should, either. Her blood had filled up the mirror, and imbued it with her Gift. The mirror developed the ability to tell the future for anybody that looked into it.

Her death was surprisingly well received; she apparently had a propensity for making highly depressing fortunes and was not very popular around the city.

Voldemort stepped closer to the mirror, and gazed into its tranquil surface. He stared for a moment, and then lightly pressed his finger into the surface. Instead of having his finger rest on the surface, as it would on a regular mirror, his finger sank through it, pressing on through despite mild resistance by the mirror.

After a short while, he pulled his finger out, as he was satisfied that the mirror had 'got a taste', so to speak. Small ripples, as when a rock is thrown into a pond, ran through the surface of the mirror.

Voldemort blinked when the only result was a bright green flash, almost nauseating in its intensity, was the only result. He was slightly disturbed by it. He had seen the light before – he saw it every time he cast the Killing curse.

That was one of the issues of the mirror – it was woefully indistinct about the future it predicted.

Slightly nonplussed, Voldemort turned away from the mirror and stared back down at Pettigrew, whose original pride in himself seemed to have faded away, and it appeared to have been replaced with apprehensive fear. Voldemort smiled mercilessly at the trembling fool, the prophecy playing through his head.

'The one with the power to vanquish the dark lord approaches … born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies…'

Voldemort knew that his knowledge of the prophecy was incomplete, but he was sure the rest of it merely detailed the inevitable conquest he would soon achieve. After he killed this first boy, the other child would follow him to the grave soon enough.

"Where are they?"



Sirius stepped forward into the darkness, and quickly illuminated the area with a muttered "Lumos!" After shielding his eyes from the bright glare, he pointed the wand about the cave, looking for any sign of his friend.

He was worried. Had the Death Eaters found the hideout somehow?

The light fell upon the small cot that Peter was supposed to sleep on – It was empty, but the bed was made. The small bag of clothes was also still there, zipped up and clean. The fire pit in the middle of the cave was still there, just as it had been the last time Sirius had checked on Peter.

'Something's wrong.' Thought Sirius as he gazed through the wandlight into the cave. 'It's too neat, too clean.'

An unnamable fear suddenly gripped his heart as he stared into the abandoned hideout. Sirius felt a near-uncontrollable urge to check on Lily and James, and he pivoted and ran back towards his motorcycle. Leaping feet first over the handlebars, he kicked back the stand and gunned the motor.

As he took off, he pushed the motorcycle to its limits as he rocketed through the air towards Godric's Hollow; the unnamable fear from before pushed him along, kept him going. The wind blew hard on his face, and he narrowly missed an owl flying along in the opposite direction.

'Peter, you better be okay.' Thought Sirius, as he flew over a lake. He was worried… he may just have gone for a walk, or maybe the Death Eaters had found him outside of the cave, or something. A small chill went through him as the possibility that Peter may have betrayed them flashed through his mind, but he quickly pushed it away, sure it couldn't possibly be.

As Sirius pushed the vehicle faster than he had ever gone on it before, the forest that encircled Godric's Hollow appeared on the horizon. He leaned forward, trying to push it even faster. Soon, the village came into view, and a hideous sight

Sirius's eyes widened as a massive plume of smoke appeared before his eyes, rising high into the air and obscuring the moon. He followed the smoke to its source and saw that the cause was a smoldering house near the edge of the village.

Sirius knew that house very well.

'Oh, god. Lily… James…Harry…'

Sirius touched down on the lengthy gravel driveway that led up to the house, and rolled to a slow stop. Sirius stared, aghast, at the sight before him.

The house was destroyed.

Smoldering wood was lying everywhere. Bricks were strewn across the yard. A Muggle car was overturned a few feet ahead of Sirius, and the contents (groceries, by the look of it) were spread across the gravel driveway. Sirius paid very little attention to any of those things, and instead focused on something within the wreckage. A strange, lumpy shape had caught his eye.

Dismounting the motorcycle, he charged headlong into the smoky rubble, tossing it out of his path as he ran towards the shape.

'You damn well better not have died on me, Potter!'

Sirius stopped. He stared down, shocked and horrified, at the body on the ground before him.

There, at his feet, was the completely unblemished body of James Potter. His eyes were still open, and his hand still clenched his wand. However, his eyes were blank and no recognition flashed in them as Sirius fell to his knees beside him.

"James!" said Sirius, and he pulled out his wand. He began to cast several reviving spells, hoping that perhaps he was not dead, but merely placed under some kind of confining spell.

However, after several minutes of attempting to revive him with no response, the thought finally got through his head that he was gone. Looking to his left, he saw a feminine leg on the other side of a still-standing doorjamb, and the leg had a small bracelet on it – he recognized it as one James had given to her back in sixth year.

Sirius stared down at his friend, who just yesterday had been vibrant with life, and reached down and closed his eyes. After letting his hand rest there for a moment, he stood up.

"DAMN YOU, PETER!" Sirius screamed to the skies, which was barely visible through all the smoke.

"Sirius? Is tha' you?" said a familiar voice to his side. Sirius turned to the left, and saw Hagrid walking towards him. In his hand was a small bundle of what looked like blue colored blankets.

"He's dead, Hagrid." Sirius said, looking down at James. Overpowering guilt was filling him up; the pressure on his head was building, and his eyes were tearing. He looked away from the body, unable to believe it… what had he done… what had Peter done?

A realization, too late, came to Sirius. 'He was the spy; all this time, it was him.' Sirius thought, his hands clenching into fists. 'I should have done it, I should have been the secret keeper. I practically gave them to Voldemort.'

Sirius suddenly felt his legs give beneath him, and he realized that he ought to get out of the smoke before he died of oxygen deprivation. He slowly picked himself out, and stumbled out of the ruins and collapsed on the front yard.

It vaguely surprised him that he had not cried; instead, a cold rage had descended over him. His thoughts were crystal clear, and he was focused on one thing only.

'Peter Pettigrew, I am going to kill you.'

He couldn't believe it. All of these years of friendship, and he tosses it all away for the damn Dark Lord.

He felt a shift in the grass beneath him as Hagrid sat down beside him, still cradling the armful of blankets. Sirius stared at his feet, not facing Hagrid for fear of his accusing eyes. Mind you, he deserved the look of anger he was undoubtedly being given by the kindly half-giant – he had practically cast the Killing curse himself. Thusly, it was with some surprise that he felt himself receiving comforting pats on the back.

"I jus' can' believe it… Lily an' James, gone." Said Hagrid, staring at the rubble; the smoke had begun to thin, as the fire was dying off. Sirius stared at the smoldering remains of the house as well, before he noticed the curious omission to that sentence.

"Wait… what about-"

"Harry?" replied Hagrid, and Sirius was surprised to see a small smile rising on his face. "Got 'im righ' here. Dunno 'ow 'e survived all o' tha', though. " And he lifted up the bundle of blankets, which Sirius realized contained Harry. He looked inside, and saw vibrant green eyes staring back at him. He looked at him for a moment, then looked away; the overwhelming guilt had started to rise again.

"He's got Lily's eyes." Sirius said gruffly, picking at a piece of grass. He looked up at Hagrid, and saw that his eyes carried no accusations; they were full of tears, instead.

'That's because he doesn't know.'

For several minutes, the two of them just sat there; Sirius, staring into the dying flames, and Hagrid played with Harry, who was attempting to grab the finger Hagrid was poking him with.

"Well, I shoul' go." Said Hagrid, standing up and tenderly placing Harry in a basket that he pulled out of one of his many pockets. Sirius stood up as well.

"Wait, where are you going?" Sirius asked, curious. He had a responsibility for Harry – he was his godfather, after all. Hagrid, however, did not immediately volunteer a response, and instead looked quite uncomfortable.

"I gotta take 'im away, Sirius." Hagrid said evasively. "They'll be lookin' for little Harry."

Sirius knew who Hagrid was referring to – the Death Eaters. However, that didn't faze him. "I can protect him, Hagrid. Give him to me, I'm his Godfather." Argued Sirius, "I'm the one that's supposed to take care of him." Even as he spoke, he knew it was no good. Hagrid was staring at him, his eyes still full of tears, but he didn't look like he was going to relinquish Harry.

"I've got me orders, Sirius." Hagrid said, turning away. "Dumbledore says tha' Harry's goin' to go an' live with Lily's sister."

"What, Petunia?" Sirius spluttered, aghast. "But… but… she hates magic! They would hate him there!"

"I'm not sayin' I like it, Sirius." Said Hagrid, still facing away from Sirius. "But that's me orders, an' I ain't goin' agains' Dumbledore. Now, I've got me some places to go wit' lil' Harry." Hagrid turned back, gave him a small wave with his hand, and started to walk away.

Sirius started to go after him, paused, took a look at his motorcycle, and then came to a decision.

'If it will help me make it up to you, I'll do it.'

"Hagrid!" Sirius called out. The friendly half-giant turned around, peering back at Sirius through the thin haze of smoke. "You can take my bike!"


"What is Peter doing here, Sirius?"

"It's an idea I had, James. I think we should make him your Secret Keeper."


"Well, Lily, if everybody thinks it's me, then nobody will try to go after Peter. That way, he'll avoid notice and you two will be safe."

" …"

"I don't know, Sirius."

"Trust me. It's the perfect plan."


Sirius looked down at the pathetic wizard in front of him, who was trembling and looking very afraid. Sirius supposed that he must have looked downright menacing at that moment, but at that moment he didn't really care.

He had managed to find out where Peter was by asking around in a tavern; he hadn't stayed because the mood was downright celebratory. He couldn't believe it – how could people be celebrating, when Lily and James Potter no longer walked the earth. He had heard something about "You-Know-Who" having been defeated, but he didn't pay much attention.

He was focused on a different goal.

Killing the little worm in front of him.

He had managed to find him, just outside of his London house. He was stumbling about – he looked as though he had actually spent the night celebrating, of all things. Sirius had managed to corner him in a small alley near his house.

"S-Sirius… what's wrong?" stuttered Peter Pettigrew, who looked very much the worse for wear. He looked as though he had been up all night. He was panting, looking side to side for any possible escape route.

"You know perfectly well what's wrong."

"W-what do you m-mean?"

Sirius couldn't believe it. How could he be denying it; how could he be denying what he had done? He strode forward, picked Peter up a foot off the ground by his neck with one hand, and slammed him up against a nearby wall.

"Lily and James are dead, thanks to you!" Sirius shouted, pushing his wand up against Peter's forehead with his free hand. "And if I have anything to say about it, you'll be among the dead soon enough!"

"B-But, Sirius, I didn't-"

Sirius was in no mood to hear his blubbering denials. He opened his mouth to cast a spell, when suddenly Peter kicked him in the stomach. It was a rather weak kick, but the surprise of it caused Sirius to drop Peter, who fell down but quickly scrabbled back to his feet.

Peter started to run down the alley, but Sirius was in hot pursuit. He chased Peter as he ran out onto the sidewalk, but this street was significantly more busy than the alley. Several pedestrians obstructed Sirius as Peter started across the road. Peter suddenly stopped, however, in the middle of the road, forcing several cars to stop, and turned back to Sirius with an odd smirk on his face. Sirius was charging towards him with his wand out in front of him, and paid it little mind.

What he did next made him stop in his tracks.

"Lily and James, Sirius! How could you?" shouted Peter, as he pulled a small knife out his pocket. Sirius stared at him as he swiped it upwards, slicing off his index finger. He watched, stupefied, as the digit fell towards the ground and Peter cried out in pain. He snapped out of his momentary trance when Peter reached behind his back. Not caring about the dozens of witnesses, he lifted up his wand, and opened his mouth to cast a spell to kill Peter.

At that moment, all hell broke loose.


Cornelius Fudge had been enjoying a relaxing break with coffee and biscuits in his office, privately wondering why he didn't get the day off to relax, when a massive explosion nearby shook him out of his seat. He fell hard on his rump, his coffee spilling all over the floor. For a moment, he thought that the Ministry was under attack by You-Know-Who, but he quickly dismissed that as impossible.

He stood himself up, brushing off the cookie crumbs from his robes. He briskly strode out of the room, entering the main mission room for the Magical Law Enforcement Squad.

"What's going on?" he barked, looking about for somebody to give him any information.

"We don't know, sir! We're getting word of a gigantic magical discharge three blocks over!"

"Give me the address." Fudge said grimly, preparing to Apparate.

'Honestly, I can understand celebrating, but that's no reason to set off a bomb.'

Cornelius waved his wand about, closed his eyes, and felt himself moving. Apparating always gave the curious sensation that a person was moving in all directions.

However, as soon as he felt his feet touch the ground, and he opened his eyes, he wished that he was anywhere but where he was. He heard somebody vomiting nearby, and had an urge to do the same.

A massive gaping hole had been carved in the ground, going down deep enough to crack the sewer. Somebody was screaming – a Muggle woman by the look of it. She was desperately trying to revive her immobile husband. Blood covered the storefronts. Several cars were tipped over, and one looked as though the front half had disintegrated.

Laughter finally penetrated his consciousness. There, standing not five feet in front of him, was Sirius Black, and he was laughing his head off.

Conclusion: Yar.

This idea had been bouncing around for a while; verily, it is done. I do hope I stuck to the story properly. It comes in a mighty 4000 words or so, which is longer then anything else I've published at this point.

Thanks for reading.