You Can't Leave Yet

Sirius' POV


      It's Halloween.  And I'm sitting here in my parents' house alone, wishing with all my might that I had somewhere better to be.  Dumbledore wants to keep me locked up in here so that Voldemort can't get to me, and James and Lily back him up with a fierceness that makes me angry at times, but at others makes me thankful that I have such caring friends.  But Dumbledore doesn't know.  He has no idea that I begged James and Lily to make Peter the Secret-Keeper.  I want them to be safe so badly that I don't trust myself with that secret.  They were hesitant, but I wouldn't let them say "No."  So Peter was made the Potter's Secret-Keeper.  Only he knows the location of James and Lily's house.  Even I have forgotten where it is exactly because that is part of the spell.

       All of a sudden, the fire in the hearth crackles and pops, and I jump out of my seat and drop to my knees in front of it.  Dumbledore's face sits in the flames, his beard and hair messy and tears streaming down his face.  He looks incredibley angry, but sad at the same time.

       I open my mouth to ask him what's wrong, to beg him to tell me that James and Lily are safe.  But then he says the three words that bring my world to an end: "He found them."

       And he is gone.  The flames die down, but my breathing jumps higher and higher.  No, it can't be…  This can't be happening…  It can't…!

       I pinch myself, hard, trying to wake up from this nightmare, but I'm not asleep and I think that somewhere deep down, I know that.

       Without hesitation, I jump up, run outside, straddle my flying motorcycle and I am about to get out of here when I remember that I have no idea where James and Lily's house is.

       "No!" I yell, banging my fists on the handlebars in frustration.

       I hear something like a voice whispering in my ear and I suddenly know.  Revving up the bike, I take off into the night, concentrating on that little house on the corner of the main street in Godric's Hollow.  I arrive in a matter of moments, and land with a thud on the sidewalk.  I jump off the bike and turn toward the Potters' house.

       But it is no longer a house.  Now it is a pile of bricks, wood, and floating dust.  The roof sags; the chimney teeters; no front door exists; the entire right front corner of the house has been blown apart: Harry's room…

       No!  My eyes widen, my breath escapes me in a horrible cry: "Oh, no!  No!  NOOOOO!!!"  Even from here, I can hear the terrified, shrieking wails of a baby…  "HARRY!" I scream.  I slam into the front gate, smashing it to smithereens, fly up the front walk and through the gaping doorway.  The inside of the house looks even worse than the outside, but strangely enough, only the hallway and the staircase it holds is blown apart, cut up, looks as though it has been through a tornado.  To my left is the sitting room, where the lamp is lying in shattered shards on the ground.  On the untouched, peach-colored couch is a wand: dark brown wood, longer than most.  James' wand…

       Looking around frantically, I bolt up the stairs, yelling my head off.  "JAMES??!!  LILY??!!  HARRY??!!"  When I reach the landing, I trip over something.  I look back… and let out a shriek of pain.  "JAMES!!!  NOOO!!!  JAMES!!"

       I scramble to my knees beside his body, the tears coming faster than I had ever believed possible.  I am afraid to touch him, as if doing so will cause him some pain.  But somewhere inside, my heart tells me that he's gone, he can't feel anything, he doesn't even know I'm here.  He has no visible injury, but of course, that's how the Killing Curse works.  Not a trace so no Muggles know what happened.  But I know how he died… was killed…  His mouth is open, formed around some word he was screaming as the curse hit him.  His glasses sit askew on his nose, in no way hiding his wide, glassy, staring, dead eyes…

       "JAMES!!"  I grab him under one arm, my hand on his chest, and I wrap my other arm over his shoulder.  Pulling his limp body against my chest, the top of his head against my shoulder, I drop my head and cry like a child into his hair.  "No, James, you can't leave.  You can't.  Not now.  You can't die, James…" I sob.

      Sitting there, more broken than seems possible, I remember something James told me before we parted the last time I saw him alive: "If he does find us, if it's my time, I'm gonna go out with a fight.  If I have to die, I want to die protecting the things most important to me: Lily and Harry.  If I don't die for them, then my death will mean nothing.  I will protect them right up until my last breath."

      I had thought him crazy.  I laughingly told him that he was being noble again and I playfully smacked his head.  We said goodbye, neither one of us knowing that it would be for the last time.  But now I think that maybe he knew something none of us did.  Maybe he had known somehow that he wouldn't live much longer.

      I remember his wand lying on the couch downstairs.  The idiot tried to hold his own against the most powerful wizard in the world next to Dumbledore without a wand.  Because he knew it meant that Voldemort would stop to kill him, and he hoped that it would give Lily enough time to run with Harry.

      Through my tears, I smile.  "You did it, James," I tell him.  "You died the way you wanted, protecting Lily and Harry…"  Baby Harry's screams come back into focus.

      Then I remember.  Gently laying James' body on the debris-covered landing, I run up the stairs and to the front part of the house.  I slam through the door to little Harry's nursery, splintering it, and find them both.  Lily collapsed on the floor in front of the crib, her arms thrown wide, eyes wide and staring just like James'.  Harry lying in his crib, eyes streaming, screaming and crying, a trickle of blood falling from a lightning-bolt-shaped scar over his right eye.

      I run to Lily first, but she is gone too.  Dead.  Not coming back.  Then I stand, reach into the crib, and cradle Harry in my arms.  James always said that Harry loved me, that he would be quiet for me when he only screamed for anyone else.  I guess that's true because as soon as Harry saw my face, his cries quieted, and he reached up for my shaggy hair with his chubby hands, a tiny whimper escaping him.

      Holding him close to my chest, I whisper soothingly, "It's okay, Harry.  You're all right now.  Uncle Sirius is here…  Shhhh…"  But nothing is okay, nor will it ever be.  James and Lily are dead.  Killed by Lord Voldemort.  But how did he…

      No!  He couldn't have!  Not Peter!  But there's no other explanation…  Peter Pettigrew, the very man James and Lily placed their trust in, betrayed them and told Voldemort where they were hiding.

      I raise my face, turn around, and kneel down beside Lily.  I brush her long red hair off her face, slide my fingers over her eyelids, closing them, and whisper quietly, "I'm sorry, Lils.  I'm so sorry.  I promise you I'll take good care of your son.  Harry will be all right with me.  I promise.  I'm so sorry…"

      Harry tries to reach for his mother, but I stand up, the sight too painful, and walk out of the room.  He cries out, "Mummy!" over and over again, but I keep walking.  When we stop next to James' body, Harry again reaches out, this time yelling "Daddy!"  But I simply close James' eyes as well, and move on down the stairs, Harry squirming and crying in my arms.  I hold him close, trying to soothe both of us.

      As I exit the house, there is a huge crash off to my left and I turn just in time to see Harry's crib crashing into the yard and shattering into a hundred pieces.  I got him out just in time.  He would have died if I hadn't gotten here when I did.

      A crack shatters the eerie silence.  And Rubeus Hagrid staggers on the sidewalk.  When he sees me, an expression of anger and distrust flashes across his face, but it gone as quickly as it comes when he sees me holding Harry.

      "Sirius?" Hagrid asks.  "What're ya doin' 'ere?"

      I try to swallow my tears long enough to give him an answer.  "I had to come… when I heard…  I had to see for myself…"  I drop my head and Harry hiccups as he reaches for my hair.

      "Well, I'm s'pposed to take 'arry to Professor Dumbledore."

      I turn away a bit, hugging Harry tighter.  "No!  Please Hagrid, let him stay with me.  I'm his godfather.  It's what Lily and James would have wanted.  Please…"  I look at him long and hard, watching his hesitation.

      Then he shakes his massive head.  "M'sorry Sirius.  Dumbledore wants 'im to go live with 'is Muggle aunt 'n' uncle.  I have to take 'im.  M'sorry."

      Tears again begin to flow.  I've lost both James and Lily in one night and now I have to lose Harry too?  It takes more willpower than lifting the sky to hand little Harry over to Hagrid.  As Hagrid wraps Harry in a plaid blanket, I stare at my godson.  He looks exactly like his father, the messy black hair, nose, mouth, except for his eyes.  He has his mother's almond-shaped dark green eyes.

      Hagrid eyes me warily as I watch, probably thinking that this entire thing is my fault, which he is right to think.  Everyone close to James and Lily knows that I was their Secret-Keeper, but no one knows that I traded with Pettigrew at the last minute.  Not even Dumbledore knows.  Pettigrew.  This is all that d*** rat's fault!  All of this!  James and Lily's deaths!

      "Hagrid," I say suddenly.  "Take my motorcycle."  He opens his mouth to protest.  "Please, I have to do something for Harry.  Please."

      He hesitates, but I keep begging him.  Finally, he nods, snaps on the goggles, swings his leg over the bike, and lays Harry gently into a sling over his shoulder.  I step forward.

      "May I say goodbye?" I ask, and Hagrid nods again.  I lean down, kiss Harry's forehead softly, and whisper, "I love you, Harry.  I'll always be here for you.  I'll see you again soon.  I promise."

      Harry giggles.  "Unka Siri!" he squeals, wriggling in his blanket.

      I step back, Hagrid revs the bike up, and takes off.  I raise my hand in farewell.  "Goodbye, Harry," I say shakily.

      I turn back to take one last look at the house, where James and Lily's bodies still lay…  And I realize that even though Pettigrew was the one who told Voldemort their whereabouts, their deaths are my fault.  Completely and utterly my fault.  If only I hadn't asked them to make Pettigrew Secret-Keeper.  Lily would be putting Harry to bed, kissing him goodnight.  James would be telling Harry goodnight too, then going to bed with his wife, kissing her before they fall asleep.

      But it's my fault that they're not.  It's my fault that Harry will grow up without his parents, without love.  I met Lily's sister and her husband once.  I hated them instantly.  Harry will find no peace, no acceptance, no love there.

      My tears slowly come to a halt, and the sorrow that is gnawing a hole in my chest is replaced by a burning desire for revenge.  I will avenge James and Lily.  I'm going to kill Pettigrew if it's the last thing I do.

      Grinning evilly, I let out a maniacal laugh that I'm sure startles half the neighborhood, pull my wand out of my robes, and I whisper menacingly to the dark, "I'm gonna kill you, Peter.  I'm coming for you.  You're gonna pay for what you've done.  I am going to kill you."