Bitter Irony

Dedication: I dedicate this fic to Mr. Snoyienk, my algebra teacher, as I wrote the whole thing in his classes.

Bitter Irony

(from Sirius Black’s POV)

 

October 31^st, 1981. All Hallow’s Eve. That day would be forever imprinted on my mind, but I didn’t know that at the time.

For me, that day was fairly normal, if anything was in those days. It was a Friday, so I headed off to work, just as I had for two years. This day was slightly different though, in that it was my last day working for the Ministry as an Auror. Voldemort was getting stronger, and I, like my friends Lily and James Potter, was going into hiding using the Fidelius Charm. My mother was to be my Secret-Keeper. James had wanted to keep my Secret, but you can’t if you’re already under the Charm.

Anyway, I Flooed off to the London Aurors Office. I had yet to turn in my resignation papers, but after that I had nothing to do. As I was filling out the endless paper word needed to quit, I thought, Must go see Peter today. See how he’s holding up. Being a Secret-Keeper isn’t easy, and Lily, James and little Harry are depending on him. Mustn’t let the stress get to him. Then I smiled, thinking also, that neither he nor I had anything to worry about. Peter was just about the last person anyone would think of as being James’ Secret-Keeper. How little I knew.

* * * * *

After I had filled out my resignation forms, I Flooed back to my home in Broc Mordha, a small village outside Edinburgh, in Scotland. I loved it there; it was a picturesque place, with all its green fields, and the north side of town backed onto a huge forest. It was quiet. Everyone but my closest friends know me as a Hell-raising rabble-rouser, but part of me just liked to sit quietly sometimes, and this, my home, was where I did it.

I had a small stone cottage on the side of the village that was set against the forest. It was fall and all the trees were turning, making to prettiest picture I had ever seen, or ever have seen since then for that matter. It was a beautiful day, unfit for the events that were soon to transpire.

Behind my house, there was a large garden shed. That was where I kept my motorcycle. And no ordinary motorcycle it was either. This one I had enchanted to fly. Yes, that was illegal, but at the time I had no regard for rules, and oh!, how I loved that bike. It was my pride and my joy.

I walked out to the shed and wheeled out the motorcycle. It gleamed with a black sheen in the sunlight. I took a look at the engine, just to make sure all the spells it had on it were working properly. When something, especially something made by Muggles, has too many spells on it, the effects can be…unfortunate. Too much magic builds up and the previously inanimate object becomes animate and has a mind of its own. Like Hogwarts. Magic is such an integral part to the castle that the suits of armor can walk and the walls can shape themselves to their own liking.

Everything in the engine checked out perfectly, so I hopped on and took off. Flying that bike was the best experience I can remember of that day. The feeling of soaring over the earth like a bird was amazing. All too soon I was flying over the wizarding part of Birmingham, where Peter lived.

I flipped the switch on my motorcycle that made me, and the bike invisible. If the infamous trickster and best-loved pupil of Hogwarts class of 1977, Sirius Black, were to disappear, there would be speculation and accusations and I didn’t want to be seen at Peter’s. It might throw him into suspicion.

When I landed in front of his flat, I turned on an Unremarkable Charm (A/N: That bike of Sirius’ has everything but the kitchen sink. Even I was surprised!), then flipped the invisibility switch off and walked to the door. If anyone, wizard or Muggle, looked my way, their eyes would just slide off to the right or to the left. Similar to the way the front door of the Leaky Cauldron is made invisible to Muggles, except that spell is Muggle-specific.

I went up and rang the bell (Peter had a first floor flat). I stood there waiting for a good five minuets waiting for someone to come answer the door. Finally, I got impatient, charmed open the door "Alohomora!" and walked down the hall to Peter’s door. There was no answer there either, but this door wasn’t locked, so I just walked inside chuckling to myself and thinking that it was just like my forgetful little friend to neglect securing to lock.

As I stepped into the front room, the hair on the back of my neck stood on end, a sensation which had, in the past, always signaled to me that trouble was coming. The house had a feeling of desertion to it, like it had been empty for a while. All of Peter’s belongings were right there where they should have been, been, but as I walked into his bedroom looking for him, I noticed that all of the bureau drawers had been emptied of their contents. When I saw that, I started feeling uneasy. Peter should have been right here, not gone, and certainly not gone away with all his clothes. I strode quickly on to the kitchen, hoping desperately that I would walk into the room and find Peter sitting at the table sipping tea and eating biscuits.

Despite my hopes, when I got to the kitchen, all I saw was an empty room, no signs of a struggle. If Peter had left, it was of his own free will. On the table was a book. I stepped closer to get a better look. I thought that the book might give me a clue as to where Peter had gone.

It was a large book, covered in leather, with the title, The Colossal Encyclopedia of Almost Impossible Charms. It was a book I had given to him for his birthday last year. I flipped through it, and came to a place Peter had marked with a little slip of paper. The slip of paper fell to the floor, but not before I had seen what it had been marking. It was marking the section of the book on the Fidelius Charm. The part explaining the how to break the Charm. When I saw that, a small bubble of fear started in the pit of my stomach, slowly swelling until I thought it would choke me. I looked down at the floor, trying to swallow past the fear. The paper that had fallen caught my eye as I stared at my shoes. I hadn’t noticed before, but there were words written on it. "Note: Remember to tell L.V. it will be done."

L.V. Lord Voldemort. For a moment I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move. My whole body had turned to ice, my blood had been replaced by something liquid and chilling that I later recognized as pure unadulterated terror. Suddenly, the ice melted, leaving in its wake a wave of anger the like of which I had never experienced. I was full of rage at Peter, the traitor, and fear for Lily and James’ lives.

I dashed back out the door, not even bothering to close it behind me. Once I got outside Peter’s flat, I ran to my motorbike, hopped on, and took off as fast as I could, no longer caring if anyone saw me. I flew, as fast as was magically possible, to Godric’s Hollow (which is near Cardiff, Wales).

It was dark by now, and low sinister clouds had come down, glowering at the earth. Still, I flew on. Over hill, over dale, in a race against time.

As I topped the last rise between me and James and Lily’s house, I saw it. Hovering over their home, grinning maniacally down at me from the sky. The Dark Mark. In my heart, I had known from the beginning it was too late, but even now I hoped that there was still a chance for me to save them. Maybe Voldemort hadn’t killed them yet! Maybe he had put up the mark before he did the deed. Maybe…

I sped up, pushing the bike past its limits to get there faster. I didn’t even wait for the tires to touch the ground. As soon as I was within three feet of the earth, I jumped, and landed on the Potter’s back lawn.

I was too late, just as I had feared. The house was a wreck. Smoldering wood and chunks of rock were everywhere. Even the trees in the front garden were burned to ash. I walked to the place where the front door had been, my feet, like my heart dragging, heavy with guilt. Lily, Harry, and James Potter were gone forever, buried underneath the pile of rubble that had once been their home. I stood there, tears spilling down my cheeks thinking, How could I have let this happen? Peter has obviously been on the Dark side for a while, and here you, you git, were thinking the traitor was poor Remus. Yes, he’s a werewolf, and many of them are siding with the Dark Lord, but he never have you any reason to suspect his loyalty, did he?

Just then, my ears, honed from their use in my dog form, picked up a soft whimpering sound from behind me. I turned and saw small rustling movements coming from one of the few bushes that had survived the attack. I walked over, pulled back the branches of the bush and saw, to my amazement, little Harry sitting there and quietly crying to himself.

For the second time that day I found myself not capable of movement. How could Harry, a small boy, not even two years old, survive this attack from Voldemort, as it appeared he had? How could he be sitting here in front of me with only a ragged cut on his forehead, which even now was dripping blood down into his eyes?

The sight of that blood was what stirred me into action. I bent down and gently gathered Harry into my arms, cooing softly to him in that nonsense language that most adults fall into when soothing small children. A simple Binding Charm was all that was needed to get the laceration on Harry’s head to stop bleeding. I didn’t want to try any healing spells, as they were more complicated and I didn’t think I would have been able to summon the concentration needed to perform one.

Being his godfather and appointed guardian, Harry was now my responsibility. I didn’t mind it, but I wasn’t sure whether or not I wanted such a large reminder of Lily and James with me until he grew up. As it turned out, I needn’t have worried; I never got a chance to keep Harry, and didn’t even see him again for the next twelve years.

Unbeknownst to me, while I had been thinking and fixing Harry’s cut, Dumbledore had found out about the attack and had sent Hagrid to see if there were any survivors. Hagrid had then been instructed to bring them to the Dursley’s house. When I turned around, intending to get back to my motorcycle and take Harry home, I saw Hagrid standing about five feet behind me.

"Hallo Sirius. ‘Ow did yeh find out then?" he asked.

"I went to visit Peter and he was gone," I replied shakily. "I could feel that something was wrong. I came here to check on Lily and James and…"

"Is young ‘Arry the on’y one left? I’ve orders from Dumbledore to take ‘im to ‘is aunt and uncle’s house out in Surrey."

"What?!" I exclaimed, astonished. "You can’t! He is my godson, I’m his legal guardian!" I didn’t want to give up Harry; he was my only link to my best friends.

"Sorry, but those’re me orders. Can I please have ‘im now?" I guess my horror at parting with the baby showed on my face, because Hagrid reached out and put one of his beefy hands on my shoulder. "It’ll on’y be for a li’l while, probably Sirius. Dumbledore’s got a bunch o’ protective spells on Lily’s sister’s ‘ouse. He was preparing for sommat jest like this I’m bettin’." He said.

Now I was having second thoughts. What would I do with a baby? Yes, I had made a promise to James, but would living with me necessarily be the best place for Harry? Then my mind turned in a different direction. Up until this point I had been concentrating on just getting Harry home since I could do nothing else for Lily and James. Now I again thought of Peter, and all the things I would like to do to him for killing Lily and James and orphaning Harry. Again the waves of rage rushed through me.

Carefully, I handed Harry into Hagrid’s waiting arms. I would come after him later. This night, Wormtail and I had some business to attend to. Another though came to me. "Hagrid, how are you going to get to Surrey from here? You can’t Apparate, he’s too young," I said, gesturing towards Harry. Hagrid looked perplexed.

"I hadn’t thought abou’ that jus’ yet," he answered. "but I’ll think o’ summat."

"Here then," I said, making a quick decision. "You take my motorcycle. I won’t be needing it for what I’m going to do. Jus be careful. I rode it rather hard on the way here, so you’d better take it slow."

With that I Apparated away…

 

…and appeared in front of an old, ramshackle farmhouse in Australia. This was Peter’s mother’s house. He had always been a sissy and I figured if he feared for his life at all he would come here.

This part of Australia was approximately ten hours ahead of England and it was twelve o’clock noon. From the inside of the house came the sounds of and old phonograph (Peter’s mother was Muggle-born) playing "Waltzing Mathilda".

I walked up the rickety stairs and knocked on the door. Almost immediately Peter’s mother came to see who it was. Goodness, I thought. Now I know where he gets it from. Both Peter and his mother had the same rat-like features. (A/N: Sirius has never met Mrs. Pettigrew. Whenever he came to visit Peter, she was away and only her husband was home.)

"Errm. Hallo, Mrs. Pettigrew? I’m Sirius Black. I’m sure Peter has mentioned me. I’ve been looking for him, Peter I mean, and I was thinking you might know where he is?" For a moment she just stared right through me, looking at some distant thing only she could see. Then, "Petey’s here, but he just went down to the village to get some bread. He’ll be back soon." After she said this, Mrs. Pettigrew turned around and started dancing with a mop for the last verse of "Waltzing Mathilda"

"What an odd woman" I thought. I waited for Mrs. Pettigrew to turn around (couldn’t risk her seeing me transform) and then turned into a dog. I would have to have a more powerful sense of smell to sniff Peter out.

It wasn’t hard. Peter had walked the main road to the town and the scent-trail was obvious. As I ran along the road I got more and more anxious. About ¼ of a mile away from the main street, I started having second thoughts. Was I right to kill a man who had been me friend all through school? Then I saw in my mind the picture of the Dark Mark hovering over the wreck of Lily and James’ house and Harry crying, blood mixing with his tears. That image strengthened my resolve to extract revenge for what had happened to my friends, and I hurried on.

Soon I had reached the main street of town. I had to slow down because there were more people around and their smells had mingled with Peter’s. It was more difficult to separate them all.

I was getting close. I could feel it. I looked up, and there he was, standing in front of a bakery, looking at the goods for sale. There were too many people around, I couldn’t just all of a sudden turn from a dog to a man. To my right was a dark little alley. Just perfect to hide in for the ½ second it took to metamorphose. When I stepped out of the shelter of the alley, I hurried toward him. I had meant to stun him and then take him somewhere more private, but unfortunately he saw me first. He turned around, the look of horror mixed with terror on his face growing more pronounced with every step I took in his direction.

He started to run, but then swung around again with a cunning look about him. "Sirius!" he said, putting on a mask of grief. "Lily and James, Sirius! How could you?!" I searched frantically in my robes for my wand, but I couldn’t find it. That was my one mistake. Not having my wand ready when I faced him. I paid for it for twelve years.

I hadn’t noticed (God how unobservant I was. If I had paid more attention to the little things, the past might have been different.) but Peter had had his wand out, and had kept it behind his back. I was the only one close enough to him to hear what he said. All of the spectators had drawn back as to keep out of what looked like a delicate and dangerous situation. Then it happened. Peter the clutz, Peter the gutless, said a curse of almost unknown proportions. All I heard was him say quietly "perdas flammis"

I was flung back at least ten feet by the force of the explosion, and for a while, I knew nothing but blackness. When I came to, pandemonium reigned. There was a huge hole in the middle of the street. People were screaming, and there were bodies everywhere. Peter was nowhere in sight. Out of the corner if my eye, I caught the movement of a large gray and brown mass. Hordes of rats were pouring out of the rent that had been made in the Muggle sewer by Peter’s curse. Then it dawned on me. Peter had cursed the street from behind his back, and then made his escape by turning into a rat and running through the sewers with the real rats.

I’m sure I made a pretty picture for the Ministry peace enforcers who came to clean up the mess, clear Muggle memories, and take me away. I knew what was coming. They were going to take me and put me away because Peter had framed me quite nicely. I couldn’t stop laughing.

How ironic. How bitterly ironic