Rounding the corner and pausing to wheeze and gulp air, Snape was just in time to hear an unearthly shriek and see a flash of green light. The Avada Kedavra curse. It hadn’t sounded like Lily, it had been too other worldly; he couldn’t tell who it was.
By the time he reached the house it was in ruins. Dust rose from the ground in eerie spirals and there was an air of intense disquiet.
“Lily?” he said clearly. He tried not to believe everything that surrounded him- she could not have survived- and gingerly picked his way through the rubble.
Lying beside him was a human hand. He bent down, shaking, to push some rubble aside but it was only Potter, eyes wide with terror, recently killed. Even so, the sight unnerved him. A few feet from Potter, Severus saw a curtain of red hair. He sprinted towards it, turning Lily’s head so that he could see the horror on her face.
Despite himself he felt tears in his eyes. Lily had always been brave and, like a lioness protecting her cubs, had died to save her child. This had been his fault. If he hadn’t mentioned that stupid prophecy…if he’d only known…
“Oh, Lily, I’m so sorry,” he said in a voice so unlike his own that anyone would think he was an impostor. He gently caressed her face, his own face even paler than usual.
He got up with a start as he heard the sound of an approaching motorbike, no doubt Black. He sneered a little at the thought of his face but, looking back at Lily’s dead body, he sobered. He had bullied the secret keeper into revealing their house, perhaps oblivious to what he was causing. Potter’s eyes seemed to bore into the back of his head with fury whilst Lily’s white face stared up into his own questioning him as to why he’d done this to her. He would never forgive himself for this. Never. With a small pop, he disapparated.
Sirius’ motorbike landed with a thud at what had once been the entrance to the Potters’ home. Sirius took a deep breath as he got off his motorbike. His face deathly pale, he surveyed the ruins of his best friends house for any sign of life. He was too late.
“James?” he called out, his foot crunching on broken glass. “Lily?”
His voice sounded unnaturally loud as though he was not meant to be speaking. What had once been a happy home full of laughter and gurgling babies (Harry and James) now had the atmosphere of a graveyard such was the stillness. The only sound was the sound of Sirius’ feet trudging through the remains, searching, hoping, that this was a trick.
He found James first, half buried, and couldn’t manage to suppress a small sob. He was evidently dead, he could tell by the terrified look on his face. He knelt down next to him and touched his cheek, not yet cold.
“How could he have done this?” he whispered to James. “I’m sorry, James, I never suspected-”
He paused, distraught, as he spotted Lily lying in an awkward position as though somebody had twisted her head after her death. Sirius flared up at the thought. There was no respect for the dead these days. He made to twist her head back to its original position but couldn’t bear to leave her face down in the dirt. His poor godson could not have survived this. He was not here in what he assumed had once been the Potters’ bedroom, that was for sure. He turned to James who seemed to look at him imploringly, demanding that he find his son. But…where was Harry?
Sirius tore himself away from the horrifying reality in front of him and frantically went to find Harry. He found him still inside his cot, wailing hysterically. Sirius picked him up with shaking hands. Harry must have had a nasty fall.
“There, Harry, it’s ok,” he said, attempting a smile.
Unfortunately, it appeared rather ghoulish and frightened Harry quite a lot, so he began to cry more.
“Ssh,” he said soothingly, though he felt far from calm himself- James’ unseeing eyes were still looking at him.
Harry quieted a little as a giant of a man appeared at the end of the street. He seemed to be wearing several dead cats sewn together but Sirius, engrossed in comforting his orphaned godson and trying not to think about the fact his best friend was lying dead not very far away, didn’t notice.
“Sirius,” called the voice of Rubeus Hagrid. Sirius looked up from Harry and strode over to the giant, Harry still clutched in his arms.
“Terrible,” Hagrid said, scanning the area with his eyes. “Awful. I bin sent on Dumbledore’s orders ter fetch Harry.”
“Let me take him, Hagrid, I’m his godfather,” Sirius said pleadingly.
“Aw, I wish I could let ye’ but Dumbledore were specific,” Hagrid said awkwardly.
“But James would’ve wanted-” Sirius trailed off, looking at his dead friend and wishing he hadn’t.
“I’m sorry,” Hagrid said and, once he’d said goodbye, Sirius allowed him to take Harry.
“At least take my motorbike,” he said. “I won’t be needing it anymore.”
“If yer sure…” Hagrid said hesitantly. Sirius nodded and watched as Hagrid straddled his beloved motorbike, his godson wrapped in his arms, and disappeared into the distance.
He looked at the surroundings once more, upset, alone and angry. He was to blame for this. He’d told them to switch secret keeper. Devastated and fuming, Sirius set off to find that piece of murdering filth, Peter Pettigrew.
A/N: What did you think? Was it believeable or utter rubbish? Let me know.