We must embrace pain and burn it as fuel for our journey. ~Kenji Miyazawa

The stars mock me as I stand alone in the dark, my heart pounding in my chest. The chaos and destruction that stares back at me is stunning in its completeness: nothing remains of the house that once stood here, nothing but dust and rubble and the broken dreams of innocent lives cut too short.

I cannot see their bodies, buried beneath the ruins of their life together, but I know they are there. I can imagine their green and hazel eyes, staring into the dark emptiness. It is all I can do to stay upright, filled with equal parts rage and grief as I gaze unseeing at the heartbreaking scene.

How did it come to this?

A cry cuts across the dark night, shattering the silence like glass. My heart stops pounding for a long moment, listening desperately for something I dare not hope is possible. And yet I hear it again: the wail of a child, lost in the night.

The stars light my way as I pick through the debris, scrambling carelessly over broken beams and fallen walls. I make my way toward the place where his bedroom should be, ignoring the cuts and bruises as I stumble and fall. I cling to that cry as if it is my lifeline, anchoring me to my miserable existence and tragic loss. I dig through the rubble until my fingertips are bloody, until I finally find him.

He is alive.

He is lying in his overturned crib, curled up with the blanket he has carried everywhere since he was old enough to grasp it in his chubby fingers. His eyes are shut tight against the devastation around him, and I notice an ugly red scar on his forehead, the only sign of injury. It is a wonder he is alive at all.

I gently rub his back, and he slowly unfolds his tiny body to look up at me, green eyes now rimmed red from tears. I murmur soft words even as my own tears fall, tears of both joy and pain, of shock and amazement that he has survived. Carefully picking him up, I am once more astonished to find he is unharmed. He throws his arms around my neck, clutching me tightly, and I wrap his blanket around his chilled body to keep him warm.

The stars shine brightly overhead, illuminating the chill night as we stagger from the wreckage. I am suddenly lost in memories: of school days long gone, of a wedding, of a beautiful baby boy and happier times filled with love and laughter. A shout calls me back to the present. Hagrid is there, pulling at his wild hair as he keens mournfully into the darkness. I motion him quiet and lead him away from the ghastly burial ground.

He wants to take the boy. My godson. I protest, because he was entrusted to me. I cannot fail my friend in this one last duty, when I have failed him in all else. But Dumbledore has insisted. The boy is in danger and must be protected, Hagrid tells me. He's to take him to Dumbledore so the Headmaster can arrange for his safety, for a new life.

The boy is asleep now, his tiny body exhausted by trauma. I brush away an errant strand of dark hair and kiss his forehead, whispering my goodbye. I know he will be safer with Dumbledore, though it rips my heart out to leave him. A part of me wonders if I will ever see him again, for I suddenly know what I must do: I must find his parents' killer.

I give the wrapped bundle to Hagrid. I tell him to take my motorbike as well, for I will not need it where I am going. I am leaving on a hunt. I will use magic to scour the ends of the earth for the man who did this, and I will destroy him when I find him.

The stars flicker as the sky clouds over. Hagrid takes off into the night, leaving me as alone as when I first arrived. A steady rain begins to fall, drenching the scene with heaven's tears, but still I stand and stare at the destruction before me.

They are gone.

I cannot stay there. I run from the rubble, leaving behind my old life to embrace the new. I race through the village as its occupants slowly begin to trickle out onto the road. There are gasps and shouts; I ignore them and take refuge behind a dark pub, alone and breathing heavily.

I collapse against the wall, sobs wracking my body. I must let it out before I can move on. Before I can destroy the man who has done this, the traitor who has killed my best friends and orphaned an innocent boy. The injustice of the universe is staggering in its enormity, and I am crushed by my loss, unable to move as the skies release their torrent and weep alongside me.

At last the stars return, a faint glimmer in a dark sky. I stand and mark my resolve: I will find Peter Pettigrew, and I will kill him.

The stars as my witness.

* * *