In All the Thunder

Chapter Eleven: 'Til Death Do Us Part: October 31, 1981

"I assume that you are not lying to me." The voice was cold and high-pitched. It sent chills up and down his spine like mad every time he was spoken to, but he always refrained himself from shivering. Through the years of his life, he'd taught himself to be brave - or, at least, pretend to be brave.

"No, my Lord, I would never dare lie to you," he replied nervously - truthfully. He was always nervous when in this room. He couldn't afford to not be uneasy; it made his Lord very...sad when his followers weren't quaking in fear. It was this that almost made him roll his eyes, but he immediately fought the urge. He didn't want another taste of the Crutacious Curse; it was quite painful.

"Good, now, go to the Order meeting as usual and spend your last moments with the soon-to-be deceased as you should." His master gave a cold smile. "They are your friends, after all."

Friends, indeed, he thought automatically. He immediately regretted it, but his Lord, who knew all, said nothing to him. All his Lord did was wave him out of the room and he left as he was ordered. In the back of his mind, there was guilt that was beginning to build up. And it didn't come down to his "friends". It all, as things did nowadays, came down to her.

Oh, how he truly loved her. She would never know, of course (he was always good at keeping secrets, except this one he had given away); he couldn't afford for her to know. He knew that she did not feel the same way about him as he did her. This wasn't one of those little insecurities every boy and every man has about a certain girl; he knew it was true. She already had a boyfriend; better yet, she was already deep in love and had been for quite some time.

She'll never love me, he thought sadly as he walked through the house. The Order meeting was going to start any minute now; he had to hurry or he would be late. And if she ever finds out that I've done this - becoming something she hates--she'll never give me a chance. If only there was some way I could get rid of him, that prat in the way, so I could drive her into my arms somehow. That might work.

But, he always had a logical side to him. His lovesick side had also taken to the dark side of this world, which was not a good combination when it came down to it all. His logical side spoke with all its stupidity that tormented him: No, that will never work. She's much too independent, and you know she has the little problem already. It'll just destroy her; it'll ruin her if you get rid of everyone around her. She'll have a breakdown, and she'll be carted off to the loony bin or die from drinking too much if you do that. It won't happen. You won't do it.

Logic was the cruelest thing in his life at the moment - that, and the Truth. It always ruined everything for him. It had ruined so much in the past two years. And it had nearly buried him in guilt these past eight months. The deaths and attacks on the members of the Order of the Phoenix had been entirely his fault, as he was the snitch - the rat. He laughed bitterly at the irony of it all. The only thing that he hadn't said was anything about her. And yet, she had been attacked anyway. She had brought it on herself by mistake, and it had caused him guilt and pain - and anger.

At the most perfect yet inopportune time, he bumped into the person he so dearly hated now. He backed up and looked up into the eyes of the man he had knocked into.

"Watch where you're going, Lestrange," he snapped viciously. Be brave, he ordered himself in his mind.

"Touchy today, are we, Pettigrew?"

Peter Pettigrew was shorter than Rodolphus Lestrange by barely a half foot; and he was much weaker than Lestrange, too. But none of this mattered to Peter. At age twenty-one, life was not the greatest. He was always on the lookout - always on the go - and always on the verge of bursting from guilt. He could explode any minute now; and Rodolphus Lestrange was asking for it very much.

"Shut up, prat." Peter was always short and to the point nowadays. Everything should be like that, he thought, short and to the point. When you want something, you should get it right away. There shouldn't be a wait; if you have to wait - Lestrange - then you shouldn't get it at all.

Lestrange usually got what he wanted, but when he didn't, he would wait forever for it to come to him. In time, he got everything, but it took a while. And some things didn't want to be given to him, but were anyway because of brute force. Lestrange liked brute force; it was easy for him. Peter didn't like that way because he wasn't good at it; he found other, easier ways, although they came with a lot more guilt trips and emotional baggage.

"Are you still angry with me, Pettigrew?" Lestrange teased mercilessly. It steamed Peter all of the time; he knew that was why Lestrange did it. "Angry that I got a taste of what you wanted?"

"Shut up!" Peter shouted, blindsided by anger for a few good thirty seconds. What he really wanted to do right now was punch Lestrange, but seeing as how it would only get himself beat up, he refrained himself from doing so. He instead glared at Lestrange heatedly, which was not good enough for Peter.

"You're green with envy like a Slytherin, Peter," Lestrange declared, sneering at him.

Peter knew that he was nothing like a Slytherin - but he wasn't anything else either. He wasn't smart like a Ravenclaw; he wasn't ambitious like a Slytherin; he wasn't that brave like a Gryffindor; and God knew that he wasn't loyal at all like a Hufflepuff. If he was loyal at all, he wouldn't be in this position right now. But love was more powerful and over loyalty, wasn't it? Once he proved himself, he could get her, and everything would be okay, right?

At that moment, Lucius Malfoy came into the room, and things heated up fifty more degrees. While Lucius and Lestrange had been good friends at Hogwarts, they'd nearly turned into bitter enemies as of eight months ago. No one but the three men in the room - and most likely their master, too - knew of the silent war that was going on between them. Lestrange's sneer never did disappear, even as he turned to face twenty-one year old Lucius Malfoy. Lestrange was the youngest of the three, but he was just as powerful, if not more. However, whereas he was gifted in brutality, Lucius was far better in dueling. Sneers and words were their choices of weapons, not wands and Dark Arts magic.

"Ah, Lucius, how nice of you to join us," Lestrange greeted. Lucius glared at him furiously and continued his walk through the room. He had a meeting with their master in ten minutes. "What? Are you not going to talk to me?" Another furious glare was thrown his way and his sneer became broader. "You're not still on about that little tiff we had months ago, are you?"

"You're mad," Lucius growled angrily. "You're repulsing."

"Why thank you," Lestrange replied coolly. He was very calm under such rants from people, as he was given them quite often.

"I cannot believe-"

"I thought you didn't care anymore. I thought you were over it all. I thought she was nothing to you anymore. You said that you didn't care what happened to her. Why are you so defensive about her now when you rarely ever were?" Lestrange chuckled loftily. The anger had ebbed away from Peter and was now sinking its claws into Lucius. True, what Lestrange was talking about infuriated him, too, but this was a personal comment directed towards Lucius only.

"I don't!" Lucius snarled.

"You obviously do still care about her well being," Lestrange pointed out.

"She's blood, okay! It's just...a habit that I'm getting over, alright!"

"But you're not getting over it, are you, Lucius?" Lestrange murmured darkly. "In fact, it has been kicking you in the arse since she ever started hating you, hasn't it?" Lucius, red in the face now, fumed at him and looked ready to use his wand at any given moment now. Peter was feeling rather uncomfortable. "It has and I know it. You still care."

Lucius scowled at him. "But you never did," he grumbled. And without further ado, Lucius composed himself once again and stalked into the room where their master stood, awaiting his arrival. Lestrange smirked at Peter, who shot daggers at him; and Peter left the room quickly. He had an Order meeting to attend to right now.

~*~

Krystyna rubbed the temples of her head; she knew that there was something wrong, but she just couldn't put a finger on it. She wasn't feeling well; maybe that was it. But she should be feeling elated as of right now. It was around ten o'clock on Hollow's Eve, better known as Halloween; it had been Dahlia's birthday - she was one now. There was only that feeling in the back of her mind that kept telling her that there was something wrong.

Sirius walked down the stairs; he appeared to be in a hurry. He grabbed his cloak and slipped his shoes on without saying a word to her. Krystyna found this very odd and it startled her. Maybe something was truly wrong. She got to her feet slowly (it was late, after all) and walked over towards him. It was only when she touched his shoulder that he spun around to face her.

"Sirius," Krystyna began slowly, "is there something wrong?"

"What?" Sirius seemed taken aback by her blunt question. He gaped at her when he suddenly shook his head. Her question had finally sunk in. "Oh, no, nothing's wrong. I just thought I'd...go check on Peter, you know. Talk to him and see why he didn't come tonight."

"Mmhm, right," Krystyna mumbled disbelievingly, nodding her head.

"Krystyna, I-"

"You don't think I know, do you?" Krystyna said matter-of-factly in a quiet voice. Sirius stared at her and she rolled her eyes at him. "I've known for quite some time now. I may not be able to read minds, but I can read both you and Lily. I know you didn't want me to know, but I found out on my own." Sirius looked very alarmed. "Do you not trust me?"

"No, I trust you very much!" Sirius cried out, horrified. "I just - the less people that knew-"

"I understand." Krystyna smiled at him. She honestly understood what his intentions were - and they were good intentions of course, but the best of intentions usually came out the wrong way. She stood on her tip toes and kissed him on the forehead. "You go talk to Peter. By the time you get home though, I might be in bed."

"I'm glad that you're back on regular hours," Sirius sighed with relief. Krystyna's smile never left her face.

"Sara would've kicked my arse if she saw me moping around because of her death," she said coolly. "I've had my peace with that. I can't go back and change it. 'The past is the past and unchangeable. What has happened will be for the best somehow.' Sara always used to say that when I did something wrong and regretted it."

"Good." Sirius smiled and kissed her again. "I read Dahlia a bedtime story; she's asleep now. She's the best little girl in the world, I'm telling you. She barely ever cries, and she sleeps well. You keep me up more at night than she does."

"Thanks," Krystyna replied dryly, but she was smiling.

"I'll be back soon, okay?"

"Okay," she said. He squeezed her hand tightly and pulled her closed to him to kiss her once again. She sighed; he could never control himself. Every time he got the opportunity, he snogged her senseless, like he was doing right now, which, in all actuality, was quite good. He pulled away and looked her in the eyes, his dark green eyes shining and her ocean blue eyes glowing.

"I love you, Krystyna," Sirius murmured.

"I love you, too, Sirius," Krystyna told him truthfully, "and don't you ever forget it."

"Trust me" - Sirius brushed a lock of black hair out of her face - "I won't be able to; it's impossible."

He gave her another quick kiss, squeezed her hand once again, and walked out of the house. She waved to him and watched as he hopped on his flying motorcycle (he'd bought and charmed it a week before Dahlia had been born). Sirius grinned at her right before he kicked the motorcycle into gear and drove off into the dark sky. She watched him disappear and sighed, slowly shutting the door. It was late; and she had a headache slowly forming. All she wanted to do was go to bed, but that bad feeling just kept popping up.

Maybe I can Floo Lily and talk to her for a bit, Krystyna thought. She glanced at the empty fireplace and then shook her head at herself. No, it's late; she, James, and Harry are probably already asleep. I don't want to disturb them. And Lorena, well, she's visiting Brandon and Nathan for the first time in a few years now. Remus is most definitely sleeping since the full moon was two days ago, poor chap. Sirius will be sure to tell Peter that I said 'hello'. I guess I'll just go to bed.

And so, Krystyna sauntered off to bed, not knowing that in the morning, the life she had worked so hard for would leave her forever - not knowing that her last true words to Sirius would be, "I love you, too, Sirius, and don't you ever forget it." - not knowing that she'd never see Lily and James again - alive, at least.

13

James had just finished checking to make sure all of the doors were locked. As late as it was and as much as he wanted to go to bed, he just had too much work to finish. Lily had fallen asleep on the couch, all of her work in a hidden place somewhere in the house where he would surely never find it. She was good at hiding things; the only thing he could ever find was Harry's bottle and the Golden Snitch - oh, and the chocolate Lily hid so that he wouldn't find it, but that didn't really count. Harry was in his crib in Lily's and his bedroom, snoozing away for the first time before eleven; he usually never fell asleep until midnight.

James yawned and rubbed his face with his hands. All he wanted to do was sleep for two days straight and that was it, but he could never get what he wanted. First, it was Auror work; and then, it was Order work. Work this; work that. He never got a break. And the only breaks he got were spent with Lily and Harry, except on the weekends when he would meet up with everyone else.

He sat down at his desk and flicked his wand. A flame appeared on the candle. He grabbed a quill and dipped it in ink. Then, he just stared down at an empty parchment.

"Bloody reports," James muttered irritably. "They don't do any good."

He put the point on the parchment, but before he could do anything, something triggered. He could hear the crackling of leaves. But it wasn't windy or anything. There shouldn't be any leaves crackling. Maybe Sirius had come to check up on them like he usually did. But no, Sirius always came by Floo Powder. And changing wouldn't make any sense. So who was outside?

James's heart began to race. What if it was a Death Eater - or Death Eaters? His heart shot into his throat and he gasped. What if it was Voldemort himself? Immediately, James jolted out of his chair and bolted into his and Lily's bedroom. When he peered over into the crib, Harry was wide awake once again and had very wide eyes. James gulped.

Fear washed over him like never before when he heard a louder noise that he knew was not normal; someone was on the porch. Sure, he'd been in three Death Eater ambushes already, but never at his own home with Harry. He took Harry out of the crib and dashed into the living room where Lily was sleeping. Suddenly, one of the Protection Spells cast on the house was tripped and an alarm went off. It was loud and piercing, waking Lily up for James. She bolted out, looking wild and disorientated.

"What? What's happening?!" Lily cried out, confused. James didn't have to see it for himself; he knew exactly what was happening. Deep down, he knew that he wasn't going to make it through the night. She looked over at him, fear in her eyes. "James, what's going on?"

"Lily, take Harry and go! It's him! Go! Run! I'll hold him off-"

"James!" Lily screamed when they both heard the front door bursting open off of its hinges. She gave him a pleading look, but he shook his head and handed Harry over to her. He kissed her very quickly and turned around. She stumbled out of the room with Harry in her arms, tears streaming down her face when a cackle of high-pitched laughter began to ring.

James knew he was shaking out of anger, but also out of fear and sheer determination. He didn't want Lily or Harry to die; and if he had to die to save them, then so be it. Peter had betrayed them and if he didn't live through this, Lily had to so she could save Sirius. James knew that Sirius would be blamed for his and anyone else's death if no one knew of the switch that had been made. James was determined to hold off the most evil wizard of their time long enough for Lily and Harry to escape with their lives.

So when he saw Voldemort for the first time face-to-face, he didn't scream and he didn't move; James merely raised his wand and glared heatedly at his opponent.

I love you so much, Lily. I love you, Harry.

~*~

Lily was crying as she dashed out of the room, holding Harry tightly against her chest. She could hear James fighting Voldemort; and when she heard the words "Avada Kedrava!" she knew that James was dead. James would never use an Unforgivable Curse, even when it was for his own defense. She choked on a sob and ran into another room. She was almost out when she burst into another room, only to find that it was Harry's bedroom, which had no other door. She and Harry were trapped--like rats.

Lily held onto Harry tightly, her tears seeping into what little black, messy hair he had - James's hair. She sniffed and muffled another cry. She turned around, her hands over Harry's ears, and screamed when the door burst open from a spell. Shards of flying wood scratched her a little, but she kept Harry from getting hurt. She hid him behind a few things and spun around. Her breathe was taken out of her throat.

Voldemort was even worse in person than in her nightmares. Lily had never seen Voldemort in person and never knew what he looked like (the people that saw him were either Death Eaters or never lived to tell the tale) so she had come up with something so hideous that she thought she would be prepared if she ever did see him. Never had she been so wrong in her life. He was sickly thin with pasty white skin and red slits for eyes. She wanted to faint from just the sight of him; she'd never been so terrified in her life.

So this is how Sara probably felt, Lily thought sadly, hopeless. And Lorena...Oh, only God knows what they did to her. And my James...

"Where is the boy?" Voldemort's voice was raspy and high-pitched; it was demanding and cold. Lily didn't really know what to do and nothing registered in her mind. She blinked. It suddenly all hit her. Voldemort was standing in the same room as her; Peter had betrayed them; Peter had been the spy; James was dead; she was going to die; and Harry...

"Not Harry, not Harry, please not Harry!" Lily cried out, tears flooding down her cheeks.

"Stand aside, you silly girl," Voldemort hissed angrily upon seeing the baby crib behind her. From his eyes, Lily knew that he - it -could tell that Harry was lying in there so innocently. He walked in front of her, but instead of moving, Lily flung herself at his feet. "Stand aside, now."

"Not Harry, please no, take me, kill me instead!" Lily screamed. She knew that if she moved, Voldemort would kill her baby boy - the last thing in her life right now that gave her hope - the last thing that reminded her of James. He was James's boy and always would be - he was Harry James Potter - and she was not going to let Voldemort kill her and James's boy.

"Stand aside, Mudblood!" Voldemort ordered, pointing his wand at her. Lily looked up at Voldemort with tears in her imploring, vibrant green eyes. For a minute, Voldemort just looked at her eyes; they were the most spectacular eyes he'd ever seen--but this was not the time and place for that. He looked at the crib again and back to Lily.

"Not Harry! Please...have mercy...have mercy..." Lily began to sob. She was begging him. She was pleading him with everything she had. She knew James would never plead, but this was her son. He had thought that she could get out of here, but with everything shooting through her mind so quickly, she'd lost herself and here she was, getting ready to die and have her son die, too.

"You ask for too much, Mudblood." This broke Lily down. He pointed his wand at the crib and Lily shrieked shrilly. She jumped to her feet and raced for the crib. Voldemort said the Killing Curse; Lily was screaming bloody murder when she threw herself in the way of the green spell. It hit her in the chest and the last thing she ever saw was Harry's timid face, vibrant green eyes.

~*~

When Lily Potter's body hit the floor, her green eyes were staring at the ceiling, no longer vibrant but now lifeless. She was dead. That took care of a few matters. He'd just killed James Potter, who had surprisingly proved to be an astounding dueler. For once, he'd had to work, but the boy would never use an Unforgivable on him - a weakness, no doubt, he'd gotten from him Mudblood loving parents. The girl had been far too easy for his liking, but it didn't matter. He walked over to the baby crib and looked down in it to see a weak boy who was only around one years of age. He had his mother's vibrant green eyes.

"So you're Harry Potter." Voldemort chuckled to himself. Weak, that was all Harry Potter was, and he was defenseless and useless. Idly, as he raised his wand, Voldemort wondered how he could mark such a child as his equal. The boy was nothing and after tonight, he would be nothing at all but history. "You can join your Mudblood mother and your foolish father in the afterlife, Potter."

Young Harry Potter just peered up at him with those vibrant, green eyes. The longer Voldemort stared at him; the more the little boy seemed to be testing him. It always looked like the child was reading him. It was like he already knew how to show his ignorance and defiance against him. He was his parent's child, nonetheless.

"Avada Kedrava!" Mistakes never sounded so sweet.

~*~

Sirius knew something was wrong when he reached Peter's flat. There was absolutely nothing wrong with it; and Peter was nowhere to be found. Sirius had immediately driven off to James's and Lily's house in Godric's Hollow, only to find it in ruins - only to see James's and Lily's dead bodies. He thought the sight of it all would make him go mad.

At first, Sirius had told himself that they weren't dead. They were just hurt very badly. Yes, that was it. He leaped off his bike and sprinted over to James's body first. He pulled a few shards off wood off of him, but other than that, James looked just fine...except for the fact that his eyes were wide open and lifeless. This couldn't have been right. Sirius shook James a few times, shouting his name, but James never did anything but stare at the dark sky. Sirius began to quake in misery and anger. He stood up.

James - his best mate. James - his twin brother. James - his partner in crime and pranks. James - a fellow Marauder, Prongs. James bloody Potter - betrayed. James was officially dead. It was like Sirius lost a part of his soul. He and James were separable by only one thing; and that one thing had finally caught up with them - death. Sirius had never wanted to think about what it would be like if James died first. And now, here he stood with James's cold, dead body at his feet. He shook his head and moaned out in pain.

Sirius staggered over to Lily and dragged the rubbish off of her. He grabbed at her wrist and felt for a pulse. Her eyes were wide open; he didn't even know why he tried. Lily - the girl who he and Remus had laughed at every time she got flustered by James. Lily - the girl James had pined after for years. Lily - the girl who had helped him in Charms in his second year. Lily - James's wife and Harry's mother. Lily - the girl who had taken care of Lorena after every fight she got herself in. Lily - Krystyna's best friend.

Oh, Krystyna - she didn't know that James and Lily were... Sirius groaned and his head lolled. He choked on a sob. This couldn't be happening. This shouldn't be happening. This was his fault - his fault. If he had just kept himself as the Secret-Keeper... He could truly trust himself. James and Lily couldn't be the spy, as Voldemort was after them especially, and he trusted Krystyna with all his heart, but he couldn't give her such a dangerous job. He had been leery about Remus and Lorena. He didn't know why, but Remus had been acting strange as of late and Lorena...

Well, Sirius didn't know anything about Lorena. He'd thought he knew her in and out; he thought she was so predictable. But that label had been blown out of the water and torn to shreds. Lorena had been torn apart at the shreds and had such a vendetta against the Dark Arts that Sirius had no clue why he had been leery about her in the first place. This was Lorena he was talking about, the girl whose worst fear was turning into a Death Eater. But she'd been too broken after the attack that he wasn't about to give her the job. Remus was the likely choice, but...Sirius had given it to Peter, who seemed to be the worst possible choice and the best possible idea at the same time.

Well, it wasn't the first time Sirius had judged someone incorrectly. He'd been wrong with Lorena; and he was wrong about Peter, too. Peter had been the spy. Anger flooded through Sirius like never before. He'd been pretty teed off at Lucius Malfoy badly, but this was nothing like that. Peter had been their friend for ten bloody years. Peter had been his friend. Didn't that matter to Peter at all? Did anything matter? Peter had gone from practically worshipping James to betraying him and ultimately killing him. How so very wrong that was. And Harry...

"Oh, gods, no, not Harry," Sirius groaned. He began digging through the remains of the house when he heard a noise. He spun around quickly to see Hagrid, who'd seemingly appeared out of nowhere. He was picking Harry up out of the rubble; Harry was alive. Sirius dashed over to Hagrid frantically, tears streaked down his face.

"Hagrid!" Sirius choked out, wiping his eyes.

"Sirius?" Hagrid looked over at him, confused. Sirius was shaking; he felt sick to his stomach. This was so very wrong - very, very wrong. James and Lily were dead.

They're dead. You killed them. It's your fault. It's your fault that Harry is parentless and that he will never have James teach him how to play Quidditch and Lily never got to see him off to Hogwarts. It's your fault.

"Th-they're d-d-dead; J-James and Li-Lily are dead," Sirius cried, stuttering on each word. He was shaking horribly. This was impossible. This had to be a dream. He'd awake any moment now next to Krystyna and she would soothe him. But he never woke up next to Krystyna; he just stood there, crying and shocked.

"Sirius, they died a noble death," Hagrid said quietly, though his voice was still like thunder. Sirius gave a groan and put his face in his hands. If he had just stuck with himself - if he had just listened to James - he wouldn't be here, sobbing, and James and Lily wouldn't be dead. He was stupid, that's what he was. Sirius knew that he was stupid and that was all that mattered. Then, Sirius remembered that James had given him the position of Harry's godfather. Sirius brought his watery eyes up to Hagrid.

"Give me, Harry; I'm his godfather, Hagrid," Sirius said suddenly. Hagrid looked uncomfortable around the place and he looked sick when his eyes glazed over Lily's tangled body. He looked back down at Sirius.

"I can'; I have special orders from Dumbledore," Hagrid replied, sounding uneasy. "I have to take Harry to Dumbledore."

"Hagrid, James appointed me Harry's godfather!" Sirius stated, feeling angry. Harry was going to need someone in his life that was like a father-figure. He knew that he'd never be able to replace James (and he definitely didn't want to), but this was what was supposed to happen if this ever happened. Sirius was supposed to take care of Harry.

"Dumbledore's told me what to do, Sirius; I'm sorry, but orders are orders," Hagrid mumbled.

"James would want it-"

"Harry is going wherever Dumbledore thinks bes'!" Hagrid declared, finalizing the argument. Sirius shut his mouth and went silent. Dumbledore was the most brilliant, if not a little mad, person in the world and Sirius, although particularly disgruntled and beside himself with grief, was not about to do anything rash against the man. He looked at the baby boy tucked away in Hagrid's arms. He was a living reminder of James and Lily; he had James's messy, black hair and Lily's startling, green eyes. Sirius rubbed his eyes again.

This wouldn't be happening had Peter not gone over to the Dark side. Anger did not fill up Sirius this time but rage. He was furious. He was outraged. He thought he might burst in flames if he got any angrier. And suddenly, Peter walking, talking, and breathing was just too much of a horrible thought for Sirius. Peter definitely didn't deserve to live in the slightest. He deserved to be smashed into the ground; he deserved the most painful death possible to mankind. Sirius forgot about Krystyna and Dahlia at home; all he could think about was Peter and his betrayal. Peter would pay; he would regret the day he ever thought about going to the Dark side.

"Fine, take my bike so you can get back to Dumbledore," Sirius blurted, determined to find Peter. "I won't need it anymore."

"T-thank you, Sirius," Hagrid muttered. Sirius gazed at Harry again; there was a lightening bolt scar on his forehead. It demanded attention. Sirius stared at the scar. Where had it come from? Had he gotten it from Voldemort? Rage cried out in Sirius's soul. Peter did this. Peter squealed every detail and every thing about the Order just like the rat he was. He should've known, now that Sirius looked back upon everything that had happen; he should've seen it coming. There were so many clues.

"Take care of Harry." Sirius stalked away. He took out his wand and glanced at Harry again. This was going to be for James, Lily, and Harry. Peter was going to regret everything he ever did against them. And without further ado, Sirius Disapparated, off to track down Peter and tear him to pieces.