It was a few days after Christmas. The moon shined brightly above in the black, starless heaven and bathed the snow-covered city in a magnificent sheet of silver. Here and there, light glowed warmly out of windows half covered by snow. The songs of the Christmas choruses seemed to be still floating between the thin silk threads slowly, lazily rising out of the chimneys of the sleepy houses.

It was quiet and dark in number twelve Grimmauld place. All the lights were extinguished, all except one small, almost burned out candle with a small trembling spark. The dark shape of a large Christmas tree can barely be seen in the dark room, its decorations reflected the weak, sad yellow spark. The smell of turkey and pie from the Christmas dinner still lingered in the air. They all seemed to be mocking the silence.

The moon shined through the window and bathed the room with its sad and pale light. A man with long black hair was sitting on a sofa, bathed in the same sad light. He had his arms on his legs and was holding a picture with his hand while slowly wiping clear the glass on the picture. The glass reflected the soft moon light to his face.

The years in Azkaban had took away his youthfulness and made him look much older than he really was. The handsome young prince in Hogwarts was long gone. But a shadow of him still lingered behind his thin and weathered face.

He stared at the picture. A thin and tall man with glasses and messy black hair was beaming and waving at him. A gorgeous woman with long dark red hair and bright green eyes was also there, waving at him, laughing, filled with joy. They were both holding a happy little boy.

They looked so happy together.

Sirius beat back a drop of tear.

“Men do not cry.” He remembered he said that when he was still young. Instead he drowned his feelings with bottles and bottles of alcohols and packs and packs of cigarettes.

He looked again at the picture, at the man and the woman.

“He told me he could hear James and Lily before they were killed when they got close to him…”

He still remembered the time when he was at Remus’ house. He remembered he looked up at his old friend, at his scarred face. His light brown hair had become even greyer than the last time they met. His eyes were blood-shot and filled with tear. He was biting his lips and his body was slightly shaking.

He remembered he was a little shocked. Remus had always been so calm under almost any kind of situation there were in for as long as he remembered. He had never seen him so close to crying before.

He looked down at the picture again, at the happy little family.

How did it come to all these? He sighed.


“Please James, please!” He was desperate.

“Please James, I am begging you.”

“I know I can trust you with my life Sirius…” James started.

“And they know that too.” He was pleading them now. “Make Peter your secret keeper. They won’t suspect him; they will expect me to me the one.”

“But…”

“Please James, please! I am begging you.” He begged again.

“What if they found me? What if they somehow… stronger man than me had been cracked by them. James, Please!” He was nearly hysterical.

“What if they… I couldn’t live with myself… you know I couldn’t live with myself, James. If I am the one who…” He was shaking.

He turned to the women next to James, trying to reach her. “Lily, please!” But she took a step back.

He turned back to James and kneeled before him. James was shocked and almost jumped back. He grabbed James’ legs.

“Please James, please! Oh God, James, please!” He was on the verge of crying. He paused for a moment and calmed himself a bit

“Please James. This is the perfect plan. They will go after me, and you and Harry will all be safe. Please James, please!”

Finally James and Lily made the fateful decision to perform the Fedelis Charm on Peter and made him their secret keeper.

That night, after he left the Potters, he remembered he looked back at the warm glowing window of the house. Inside, Lily was slowly rocking little Harry to sleep and he saw James wrapped an arm around his loving wife and putted a gentle kiss on her temple. They were a happy little family. He knew James would be a wonderful father and Lily would be a wonderful mother. He knew they would have the perfect life. He said a silent prayer to them, turned and walked into the darkness.


“Peter! Peter!” Sirius remembered he ran to Peter’s hiding place not long after he was made Lily and James’ secret keeper. It was the perfect hiding place; no one would suspect this place.

“Peter? Peter? Wormtail! It’s me, Sirius.” He called again. No one answered.

“Wormtail! Warmtail! Peter, where are you!” He called out again. Still no one answered.

He looked around. The place looked perfectly normal. Too normal… there didn’t seem to be any sign of a fight or struggle.

Horror slowly crept up him.

“Peter! Peter! Peter!” He almost screamed, this time he sounded truly scared. And still no one answered.

He took a step back. The horror slowly sank into him, dug into every nerves of his body. He quickly turned around and ran toward his motorcycle.

“Don’t you dare!”

“Don’t you dare, Peter Pettigrew!”


Sirius looked up and gazed at the moon shining outside the window. The soft moonlight gently touched his face. For a moment it seemed that he was wearing a crown of soft fading light. Tears had rushed up into his eyes again.

It was the same moon that shined upon the sky on that fateful night.


He remembered he saw smoke rising out of the direction of the Potters’ house on his motorcycle in the air. He felt his heart sank. He prayed that it was just his over active imagination playing its trick on his mind. He prayed that when he get there he would see James and Lily sitting beside a warm fire with little Harry between them and listening to them reading him a story before they put him to bed; and when they see him, they would laugh together about how he had become a bit sissy.

“Yes, Sirius, they are all ok. You are just getting a bit too nervous. Lily, James and Harry are all fine; Peter probably fell asleep in the loo and couldn’t hear me, that’s all. Yes, you are probably just scaring yourself, Sirius...”

“No!”

He remembered he saw the smoking remain of the house. He felt the blood was drained from his body. He landed his motorcycle and walked toward the house.

“No!”

He felt his legs were shaking as he walked slowly toward the house. He felt out of touch with his body and with reality. He felt he was inside a dream, a dream that he could never escape. Pain, sadness and anger swirled inside him, but he felt numb.

He walked inside the house. Inside the room, broken pieces of furniture was scattered everywhere on the floor. The remain of a chandelier was laying on the floor in the center of the living room, tiny pieces of crystals were glittering everywhere on the floor reflecting the light from the moon like tiny tear drops. There, not far away from the chandelier laid two bodies.

He remembered he walked toward the bodies of his two best friends. He felt his knees gave away beneath him; he kneeled between the bodies of his friends. He felt the earth had stopped spinning under him. He gazed at Lily; the soft moonlight glowed on her gorgeous face. He used his hand gently brushed away a few strings of dark red hair from her face. He than turned and looked at the face of his best friend since his first year in Hogwarts; he reached out and wiped a trickle of blood from a cut on his forehead, than straightened his glasses. He felt emotions rushed up him. He covered his eyes with he hand.

“No! No! No! No!” He murmured.

“Wake up, James, wake up!” He pounded the floor with his fist. “Wake up, damn it! Wake up! This is not funny James. Ok, you got me. Now please, wake up! Wake up! No, wake up damn it. James, wake up! Wake up! Wake up…”

His body was shaking. Never again would they talk together, never again would they laugh together, never again would they play with little Harry together and never again would they sit together and watch little Harry fell asleep inside his cradle. He felt tears were about to burst out of his eyes.

He stood up as he heard someone walking down the stairs. He beat back the tears in his eyes and saw Hagrid the gamekeeper of Hogwarts with little Harry in his arms. The giant was shaking slightly, and his face was soaked in tears. The giant patted him on the shoulder, and murmured something that he couldn’t hear. His eyes lingered on Harry. He saw the scar on his head. How the little boy survived, he didn’t know, but he felt his heart was ripped into a thousand pieces.

“Give Harry to me, Hagrid, I am his godfather, I will take care of him.” He said softly to the gamekeeper. But he told him that Dumbledore had ordered him to bring Harry to his Uncle and Aunt. He looked up at the Hagrid, than he looked at Harry, at the messy black hair and the bright green eyes. “Paddy.” Harry saw him extended his arms and tried to reach him. He looked up at Hagrid again. “Take my motorcycle, Hagrid, I don’t need it anymore.” He turned and walked away; he heard little Harry screamed his name behind him. “Paddy! Paddy!” He felt his heart shattered inside him.

He needed to find Peter. He must find Peter.


How could he?

How could he?

How could he?

They were all such good friends back in Hogwarts. They had spend countless times under the tree besides the lake together; they had spend countless times doing pranks together; they had spend countless times in detention together and they had spend countless happy hours together, laughing, joking and playing.

How could he?

He could still remember Peter’s face as he cheered for James at the Quiddictch games. He could still remember his face after they had done a particular good prank on Snape or some other Slytherin. He could still remember his happy face when they were together. He could still remember his face when he was at James and Lily’s wedding. He could still remember his face when they were at James’ house watching Lily playing with Harry. He could still remember his ugly face.

That pathetic disgusting rat, that bloody heartless monster, how could he? After all those times they spend together, he still betrayed them. He betrayed them, he told Voldemort where Lily and James lived and he killed them. It was all because of him. For thirteen long years the faces of James and Lily and the cry of Harry haunted him in his every waking moment when he was in Azkaban. It was all because of him.

Rage and hatred like a flame was burning inside him.

“I will kill you, Peter Pettigrew.” He murmured.

“I will kill you!”

“I will kill you!”

“I WILL KILL YOU!!!” He roared, rage and hatred suddenly exploded inside him and shook the silence of the night.

He was standing; every part of his body was shaking with anger and hatred.

Slowly he bended down and picked up the picture he just dropped down on the floor.

Moonlight illuminated the picture. He gazed at the picture again. He saw little Harry laughing between his parents’ arms while Lily was tickling him playfully with a finger. He looked at his messy black hair and bright green eyes. He looked so happy, so carefree and so innocent. He would have had a family; a caring father and a loving mother, if only he didn’t told them to…

Suddenly, the already cracking wall he builds around himself collapsed. Emotions like a flood rushed inside him. Fifteen years of guilt, fifteen years of pain and fifteen years of sadness filled inside him. Tears burst through his eyes. Like a newborn infant, he cried, he howled.

“I am sorry, Harry!” His body was shaking; tears flowed down his face, glittered under the moon light.

“I am sorry, Harry!” He cried harder. Each word choked with guilt; each word filled with sadness and each word shaking with pain.

“I am sorry, Harry!”

“Sorry for everything.”

It was dark and quiet in Number Twelve Grimmauld place. The silent of the house was broken only occasionally by the quiet sobs from a handsome dark haired man in the drawing room. Moonlight bathed the room with its soft, pale and sad light. In the black heaven above, the light of all of the stars had already faded into the blackness, all except one alone star. Like the light from a lighthouse to the sailors at sea and the fire of a lantern to the travelers lost in the forest; its light burned with warmth, passion and hope in the dark cold winter night.






Epilogue

Sirius was standing in front of the red sunset; the sky behind him was a brilliant color of orange and gold. Bathed in golden sun light, he looked as if he was wearing a halo of bright light; a crown of golden flame. He looked young and joyful again. He was once again, the handsome young prince in Hogwarts; the happy grooms mate at his best friend’s wedding and the caring godfather of his best friend’s son. He was once again Sirius Black, the saint among men, the king of kings.

He flashed a smile than turned and walked toward the red setting sun and the golden horizon.

So he passed over,

And all the trumpets sounded for him,

On the other side.