Everyone said he killed thirteen people with a single curse. Codswallop.

Sirius Black was always getting the short end of the deal. With a name like Black, though, he couldn't really blame people for their irrational fears and assumptions.

His mother Walburga Black married her second cousin Orion and had two children. It was sort of like inbreeding, Sirius supposed, and he blamed his screwed up DNA on them since they fraternized horizontally with one another.

Mister 'Golden Boy' Regulus was seen as the best son any parent could ever hope for: member of the Slug Club, Slytherin Quidditch star, prefect, and eventually Head Boy. He scored top marks and never saw the light of detention. His parents always said that Sirius should be setting the example, not the other way around.

The fact of the matter was that Sirius thought his whole family could go fuck themselves. He did not share their inane philosophy on the world. His cousins were not much better either. One a definite Death Eater and the other married a Death Eater. Andromeda was the only normal one of the bunch. She had, just like Sirius, been disinherited and blasted off the family tree.

Good riddance.

At school, though nobody would ever admit it, the professors felt sorry for little Sirius Black. He was a maudlin tale of a Pureblood kid who fought tirelessly against their mania and ideals. Disinherited and kicked out of the house at sixteen with no where to go and no family who would take him in. Pathetic really.

He did consider living on the streets for a bit as a bum because he didn't want to bother anybody with his problems. That was until the Potters went looking for him on the streets and forced him to come home with them. He wasn't complaining, mind you, but he felt guilty.

Prongs was all about loyalty. Lived and breathed the belief that it was the highest dishonor to question a mate's loyalty. His trust was easy to gain and hard to break. Sirius was the complete opposite. One would have to jump through hoops to gain his trust and one small infraction would shatter it forever.

Sirius assumed that's one of the reasons why he respected and envied James so much.

The dementors lurked inside the cell and all positive and happy memories of James Potter slipped through his mind. A soft crack! and he curled on the cold, dingy stone floor as Padfoot.

When one is in Azkaban, they have a lot of time to think. In fact, thinking was all Sirius could do. He felt as though he were turning into a psychologist for all he did was psychoanalyze everyone he ever knew.

For instance, he started to think a lot about Lily Evans. Sirius liked to pride himself in the fact that he could easily categorize and understand people with little effort. Lily was anything but easy.

First year, Lily Evans punched him in the face for hexing Snape in the middle of Slughorn's class. She had, luckily, forgot that she had a wand and could perform magic.

Second year, Lily Evans received detention and a deduction of 50 house points because she turned the Transfiguration corridor into an ice rink around Christmastime at a little pass one in the morning with her friends. She had, quite matter-of-factly, told McGonagall that she would clean it up before they went to bed.

Third year, Lily Evans had tried to break into the Shrieking Shack during the first Hogsmeade weekend because she was dared to. She didn't believe the house was haunted and she was, as always, annoyingly right.

Fourth year, Lily Evans was seen arguing with Snape outside Moaning Myrtle's bathroom past curfew. She demanded that he stay away from the group he was entangling himself in, commented that they were good-for-nothing Death Eaters who could not be trusted. Snape sneered and stormed away.

Fifth year, Lily Evans was furious when she received the prefect position. She thought it was overrated and quite possible the most unfortunate thing that could have happened to her. She threatened younger students with cruel punishments if they were out of bounds when she was patrolling. Although, if she were to see someone, she pretended not to. If they were stupid enough not to attempt to hide or run away, she gave them detention with Filch, which was cruel and unusual punishment in and of itself.

Sixth year, Lily Evans stayed to herself mostly. She shut out her Gryffindor friends and ignored Snape's feeble attempts at reconciling their friendship. She spent most of her time locked up in the library studying defenses against the darkest kinds of magic.

Seventh year, she gave James Potter a chance and accepted a date with him. Sirius highly suspected she only said yes to piss Snape off but, in the end, actually ended up liking James for who he was.

Who would have thought?

They were the perfect couple, which was disgusting yet beautiful at the same time. Sirius wanted his best mate to be happy and, Merlin only knew, James was beyond effervescent with Lily on his arm. It was, simply, the fact that Sirius was jealous of her. She had stolen and captured James' heart. Sirius became second best to her.

He supposed at first he was quite annoyed. Scratch that – he was beyond livid but tried not to show it. James would hex the crap out of him for being so selfish.

Yet, when he stood next to James at the alter and watched Lily glide down the aisle dressed in white with her red hair cascading around her features in thick curls, he could no longer hate her for stealing his best mate. She was perfect in every way.

Then, when Lily gave him a godson, Sirius had been elated. He made plans, which was a big deal because Sirius Black never made plans. He wanted to give Harry his first broom, take him to Quidditch games, educate him in the ways of scoring a girl, teach him how to fly his old motorbike, tell him where to find the Marauder's Map, and how to use it. Sirius had plans. Peter Pettigrew ruined the plans with two words.

Godric's Hollow.

Sirius suspected Remus Lupin at first. He was a werewolf after all. James and Lily had been furious at him for suspecting him. Nobody suspected Peter. He was, essentially, a lump of a boy who tailed his two best friends with an abundant amount of enthusiasm.

When he went to check on Peter that Halloween and he was gone, Sirius suspected the worst. Voldemort and his Death Eaters had captured him, were torturing him for information. He rushed to Godric's Hollow (he was the only one who the secret had been bequeath to) and saw the house in shambles.

There was a hole in the roof right where Harry's nursery was. The shingles dangled by threads and the house was pitch black. Immediately, he knew that Peter had not been captured nor was he being tortured. He had willingly gave his two best mate's up.

Hagrid staggered out of the house with a bundle in his arms. Sirius felt his heart clench and a dry sob bubble in his throat. His godson. His beautiful godson was alive.

When Hagrid would not hand him over, Sirius gave up his beloved motorbike and set off to find and murder Peter Pettigrew.

Sirius knew that James would not approve of his plot of revenge. At that moment, Sirius didn't give a flying Hippogriff what James would or wouldn't have wanted.

They were in the middle of a Muggle street. Sirius was livid, his wand clenched at his side and jaw squared.

"How could you?" he hissed.

"Sirius, Padfoot, listen to me-"

"NO! What were you thinking?"

Pettigrew sighed heavily, the side of his mouth twitching uncontrollably.

"How could you, Sirius?" Pettigrew shouted at the top of his lungs. "Lily and James? They were our friends! You betrayed them!

Sirius was too shell-shocked to do anything. He was only vaguely aware that Peter sliced his finger off with Snape's beloved Sectumsempra. With a wave of his wand, the loud BANG! resounded throughout the street. Sirius ducked for cover as shrapnel flung everywhere. People were screaming. In the midst of the coiling dust cloud, Sirius watched in horror as Pettigrew waved with a sneer before transforming into a rat and disappearing into the sewer.

The dust cleared and bodies were lying everywhere in the street. Muggle police were storming the scene and Aurors were Apparating in the alleyways.

Sirius laughed.

It was too ironic, too brilliant, too perfect to have come from Peter Pettigrew. He continued to laugh as he was hauled off to Azkaban without a trial.

He only stopped laughing when the dementors started to suck everything out of him.

Everyone said he killed thirteen people with a single curse. The truth of the matter was that no curse ever killed thirteen people. Sirius supposed that if he had been fortunate, he would have been lucky number thirteen.

Every now and then, I feel the need to pick up my Harry Potter books and dust off the keyboards to write some fiction on the series. This is an old story I wrote and only posted it on harrypotterfanfiction. I decided to post it here before starting a new story. Hope you enjoyed the short one-shot. Leave a quick review telling me if you liked it please. :)