Lost, Found, Lost Again

Lost, Found, Lost Again

He would be there. I knew he would. All night I had searched every other place where he was likely to seek refuge. I had slept for only three hours, if you could call it sleeping. Thrashing around in my bed, too angry and too upset to relax, I had thought of what I would do in the morning. I had worked out that I couldn't stake out the rest of his known hiding places by Apparating, as he would find out that I was after him. It would have to be the Muggle way, and luckily I knew a lot about Muggle transport: cars, cabs, buses, the Underground, and I would even walk if I had to. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered anymore. As long as I found him in the end and punished him for his treachery.

As for his hiding place, there was no doubt now. It had to be the Muggle apartment that he had abandoned years before. Wouldn't his mother be glad to know that the filthy, rat-infested place had been of use to him after all; a convenient hideout for when he had to report the results of his espionage to Lord Voldemort. I couldn't understand now how I never noticed how often he had been away for the past year.

I was getting closer now. The building where he used to live was now in view; I stalked faster down the street.

I arrived at the block of flats. I entered by way of the door at the front. I knew where his apartment was. I got into the lift, and let it take me to the second highest floor in the building, where Peter had lived. Any other time, I would have been fascinated with this strange Muggle contraption, the lift, as I had always been, but now there was no fascination in my heart, only pain and anger.

I reached the floor and proceeded to his apartment. Locked, as expected. "Alohomora!" The door swung open, and I stepped in, my hand reaching for my wand. My insides felt as if they were burning, I was so full of rage.

The apartment was empty.

For one second, I felt the pang of failure. But it didn't keep me down. My fury wouldn't let me. Peter had to be here. So I transformed.

As a dog, I could smell what the human couldn't. Peter had been here. Not long ago. Less than an hour ago. And wherever he had gone, he had not fled far. I followed the direction of his scent. He was outside the building, out of sight, but not far at all.

Transforming back, I left.

Back on the street, my eyes searched everywhere. He was around; he just had to be. I had smelled his scent. And even a wizard could have trouble trying to totally disappear in broad daylight.

And then I spotted him. He was standing at a corner, reading a newspaper. But even then, I could see him twitching nervously as a Muggle walked past him, like a guilty man. I moved quickly towards him.

As if he could sense me, he suddenly dropped the newspaper, and turned his back towards me. For a moment I stood rooted to the spot, and stared at his back, suddenly doubting that I could do this. I wondered if he was going to run, but he stayed put.

Then he turned to look at me. His eyes were red, as if he'd been crying. They filled with tears now as he stared back at me. And for one split second, I wondered if I had been wrong. Maybe it had all been a mistake, and Peter hadn't done this, at least, not willingly.

"Peter," I said hoarsely.

Peter started sobbing.

"Lily and James, Sirius! How could you!"

I? But it wasn't me... and Peter, he knew that it wasn't me... he knew... of course he knew...

And then I knew that I hadn't been wrong. "You-" I began.

He whipped out his wand.

I pulled out mine. "Endin-"

A big bang threw me off my feet before I could finish the curse. I heard a clamour of screaming people; I couldn't see, something was stinging at my eyes. I coughed. Smoke!

Forcing my eyes open, I saw nothing but white smoke, drifting about me, clouding me from view of the street. Standing up abruptly, I muttered a spell, and the smoke slowly cleared. A terrible scene opened before my eyes, a nightmare that would haunt me for years after.

There was a huge crater in the middle of the street. Bloodied bodies - (Muggles! Peter had killed Muggles!) - were scattered around the area. There must have been a dozen of them, possibly more. The screaming continued, and I could hear crying now.

But where was Peter?

Clutching my wand, still shaking from the impact of the explosion, I strode forwards towards the crater, my eyes searching all around for Peter. Around me, Muggles were tending to the dead, while many were still shaking from the incident. All I wanted to do was find the rat, and kill him, the traitor, the murderer.

And then I found it, accidentally stepping into it.

In a heap were Peter's robes, torn and bloody. I bent down and pushed the robes aside. All that could be seen of Peter was right there under the heap; a single white finger, stained with blood.

I dropped it back onto the heap and stood back up, still dazed from the explosion, and stunned by what I had just seen. Peter had said his last good-bye.

And suddenly, I was seized with laughter. Mirthless, meaningless laughter... and I couldn't stop laughing. The irony! Little Peter, one of my closest friends in school, with whom I'd shared so many tricks and laughs, and one of the weakest wizards I'd ever met, who couldn't kill a Flobberworm - he had betrayed us all, leading to the murder of my best friend and his wife; and escaping justice, evading my wrath, he had committed suicide.

I laughed harder as I heard the sound of popping around me, Apparating witches and wizards from the Ministry, because I had been hit by the final blow: he was framing me for his death, and the death of the Muggles.

And I knew there was no escape.

I'm still holding my wand...

I couldn't run.

Peter's body has been blown to bits...

I couldn't hide.

He's killed all the reliable eyewitnesses, anyone who had actually been close enough to see and hear us...

I couldn't fly away.

Only James, Lily, and Peter knew that I had switched with him as Secret-Keeper, and Lily and James are dead...

As the Ministry reinforcements led me away, my laughing fit ceased. Tears began blurring my vision, and I felt them rolling down my cheeks, as hot as a freshly brewed potion. If the two wizards by my either side had seen them, they decided not to show it. They were probably forming their own ideas now about Sirius Black, the cold-hearted murderer. Tears burning in my eyes, I hung my head low.

A rat ran across the street, dodging in and out of my feet.

It was a long time later before I thought about what it meant.

END...