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After searching through the night, he’d finally found the traitor.
Sirius stared down the quiet residential street at Pettigrew, chest heaving, pale and shaking with anger and grief. Because of him, James and Lily were gone. Because he’d trusted this little rat. The moment he’d seen Peter’s hideout deserted but neat and tidy, with no sign of struggle or strife, a cold weight had settled into his chest, his stomach. His motorbike had never flown faster, but it wasn’t fast enough. He’d arrived in Godric’s Hollow to find his best friend’s body lying in the half-destroyed remains of their house.
The sight of James, glasses askew and brown eyes staring at nothing as he lay there, the life scrubbed from him without leaving a mark, started to thaw that chill within him, and as he talked to Hagrid, who had been descending the stairs with Harry swaddled in his massive arms, it continued to change, from cold fear and suspicion to white-hot rage. He’d argued that he should be the one to take Harry, because he’d heard enough about Lily’s sister to know it wasn’t going to be a great situation for the boy, but his heart wasn’t in it, and so he eventually agreed that Hagrid should take the baby to Dumbledore as arranged.
He offered his motorbike to Hagrid, because he didn’t plan to need it again. He knew that what he planned would be a sentence in Azkaban if he was caught, but he didn’t care. Peter should have died before betraying James and Lily...and Sirius intended to make sure he did exactly that. It wouldn’t bring them back, wouldn’t make up for Sirius’ mistake, but he owed it to his best friend.
He’d searched throughout the night, knowing how Peter thought and where he might be hiding, and sure enough, he’d found him shortly after the sun rose. It had never occurred to him that Peter knew him just as well, knew what he would do and where he would go.
Peter was pale and sweating as he turned, as they faced each other in the street, but his voice was loud and strong as he called out, breaking the silence of the peaceful early morning, “Lily and James, Sirius...how could you?”
The words didn’t make sense, but they didn’t matter. Sirius wasn’t interested in taking the time to figure them out. He reached for his wand, the killing curse already on his tongue, but before he could even lay a hand on it, Peter smirked at him knowingly, and then there was a boom, a shockwave of pressure that lifted him off of his feet as everything went white.
Sirius sat up as his vision cleared, drawing his wand and spinning, looking wildly around. Pettigrew was gone, as was the entire street. He didn’t know where he was or what had happened, and if he hadn’t been half-mad and solely focused on avenging James’ death, he would have noticed that there were some...odd sights on the street, such as cars that were strange and futuristic in appearance, or Muggles staring at little boxes in their hands all over the neighborhood.
He noticed none of this, however. Turning in a slow circle one last time to make sure that Peter was really gone, he let out a scream of frustration and then broke into a run. He didn’t trust himself to Apparate, so he would have to simply hope that he hadn’t gone far. “PETER! PETER PETTIGREW, YOU CAN’T HIDE FROM ME FOREVER!” He shouted, and his appearance, long, disheveled hair and clothing after a sleepless night of searching, coupled with the look in his eyes and his shouting, had everyone in the area giving him a wide berth, though a few were filming with their phones. One never knew when they might capture the right viral video, after all, to catapult them to internet fame briefly.
“YOU’RE A DEAD MAN, WORMTAIL!” Sirius screamed as he turned off of one street and onto the next, unaware that the muggle police had been called--and unlikely to have cared even if he’d known.
Sirius stared down the quiet residential street at Pettigrew, chest heaving, pale and shaking with anger and grief. Because of him, James and Lily were gone. Because he’d trusted this little rat. The moment he’d seen Peter’s hideout deserted but neat and tidy, with no sign of struggle or strife, a cold weight had settled into his chest, his stomach. His motorbike had never flown faster, but it wasn’t fast enough. He’d arrived in Godric’s Hollow to find his best friend’s body lying in the half-destroyed remains of their house.
The sight of James, glasses askew and brown eyes staring at nothing as he lay there, the life scrubbed from him without leaving a mark, started to thaw that chill within him, and as he talked to Hagrid, who had been descending the stairs with Harry swaddled in his massive arms, it continued to change, from cold fear and suspicion to white-hot rage. He’d argued that he should be the one to take Harry, because he’d heard enough about Lily’s sister to know it wasn’t going to be a great situation for the boy, but his heart wasn’t in it, and so he eventually agreed that Hagrid should take the baby to Dumbledore as arranged.
He offered his motorbike to Hagrid, because he didn’t plan to need it again. He knew that what he planned would be a sentence in Azkaban if he was caught, but he didn’t care. Peter should have died before betraying James and Lily...and Sirius intended to make sure he did exactly that. It wouldn’t bring them back, wouldn’t make up for Sirius’ mistake, but he owed it to his best friend.
He’d searched throughout the night, knowing how Peter thought and where he might be hiding, and sure enough, he’d found him shortly after the sun rose. It had never occurred to him that Peter knew him just as well, knew what he would do and where he would go.
Peter was pale and sweating as he turned, as they faced each other in the street, but his voice was loud and strong as he called out, breaking the silence of the peaceful early morning, “Lily and James, Sirius...how could you?”
The words didn’t make sense, but they didn’t matter. Sirius wasn’t interested in taking the time to figure them out. He reached for his wand, the killing curse already on his tongue, but before he could even lay a hand on it, Peter smirked at him knowingly, and then there was a boom, a shockwave of pressure that lifted him off of his feet as everything went white.
Sirius sat up as his vision cleared, drawing his wand and spinning, looking wildly around. Pettigrew was gone, as was the entire street. He didn’t know where he was or what had happened, and if he hadn’t been half-mad and solely focused on avenging James’ death, he would have noticed that there were some...odd sights on the street, such as cars that were strange and futuristic in appearance, or Muggles staring at little boxes in their hands all over the neighborhood.
He noticed none of this, however. Turning in a slow circle one last time to make sure that Peter was really gone, he let out a scream of frustration and then broke into a run. He didn’t trust himself to Apparate, so he would have to simply hope that he hadn’t gone far. “PETER! PETER PETTIGREW, YOU CAN’T HIDE FROM ME FOREVER!” He shouted, and his appearance, long, disheveled hair and clothing after a sleepless night of searching, coupled with the look in his eyes and his shouting, had everyone in the area giving him a wide berth, though a few were filming with their phones. One never knew when they might capture the right viral video, after all, to catapult them to internet fame briefly.
“YOU’RE A DEAD MAN, WORMTAIL!” Sirius screamed as he turned off of one street and onto the next, unaware that the muggle police had been called--and unlikely to have cared even if he’d known.
