Mischief Managed

October 31

Sirius had been staring at the wall, even though Albus Dumbledore's Patronus had disappeared what felt like ages earlier. The silver Phoenix had flapped his winks and a voice, clearly Albus Dumbledore's himself, had delivered the most horrible message Sirius could've ever gotten.

Suddenly he only saw red, everything was so red, red like blood. He almost couldn't form a thought in his head. It was as if his legs suddenly lost the will to carry his body, his throat felt constricted and he had to literally gasp for air.

This was impossible. That couldn't be true. It was impossible. It simply couldn't be.
In hindsight he wasn't able to tell how long it took him to get up, put on his jacket and scribble a short message for Remus onto one of those ugly yellow post-it's. He even couldn't tell how he even managed to get up and do all of this. He didn't know what had given him the strength but his money was on hope.

In hindsight he experienced everything through a filter. As if someone had put a blurry filter over all of his memories, even cut some of them. He didn't remember going down the stairs, not grabbing his motorbike, not the moment his bike's wheels left the concrete beneath him. He still felt the cold night wind on his cheeks, his hair getting into his sight. He had forgotten to put on his glasses and his helmet. They were safely stored underneath his seat. But this was more important. You gotta watch out for you, he heard the voices of his friends saying. Always wear your helmet, Padfoot, if you really were to fall down once, you'd be stone dead.

Dead.

Dead.

...

Dead.

It doesn't matter anymore, Sirius responded to James in his thoughts. If you ... should Dumbledore be right ... I don't want to. I couldn't.

Even though his cheeks were numb he still felt the hot tears streaming down. The quiet voice of sanity came forward. Why would Dumbledore lie to you about such a serious topic? The hopes of the whole world rely on him.

And as much Sirius tried to find a reasonable solution, deep down inside he knew that Dumbledore wasn't lying. And as he landed in front of the destroyed house in Godric's Hollow he knew that Dumbledore was right. Even though he hadn't seen any evidence he knew it and it tore his heart.

***

He'd never forget the terrible hope he experienced in the moments when he searched the ground floor. He was so desperately hoping that Dumbledore had been wrong. Errare humanus est. To err is human. So, so human. But so was death. And death is inevitable. And too early. Too often way too early.

As he went upstairs he almost fell back down. And if others would've been there, they would've been able to hear his heart break into thousand tiny pieces. He broke down and hit the ground. If he hadn't been numbed by the pain in his heart, he would've noticed the pain in his knees.

He desperately tried to find a heartbeat, a tiny sign of air leaving breathing lungs, the smallest hint of life in a lifeless body. He didn't find it.

He remembered what he learned while doing his driving license. Cardiac massage. He started counting while doing the compressions. He almost felt bad for humming the song the instructors told him to get the right rhythm. Highway to Hell by AC/DC. He and James always joked about how inappropriate this song was for such a situation.

He couldn't recall for how long he tried to reanimate him, three minutes, five minutes, thirty minutes, an hour? It could be all of them. Suddenly he felt a warm hand on his back. He petrified. Merlin, how could he be so dumb? What if You-Know-Who was still here? He should've checked the entire house first.

"It's too late, Sirius," a deep, well-known voice said. It wasn't He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. It was Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of Keys and Ground of Hogwarts, the half-giant who had been close to the Marauders and Lily during their school time. Tears were glittering in his long, dark beard as he helped Sirius up. "You can't do anything anymore. He's gone."

"No, no, ... no. I – if only I'd try long enough. It can't be. That's impossible. I can't ... I can't – I just can't."

"I know. I know," Hagrid hugged Sirius tightly.

"Dumbledore told me," he said after he let him go, "that the boy is apparently still alive."

"Where from?"

Hagrid shrugged. "I don't know. He just told me. No explanation."

In his confusion Sirius completely forgot about the guards that were supposed to watch over Lily and James. Years later he found out that one of them apparated to Dumbledore as soon as You-Know-Who showed up. The others barely slipped his killing spell but apparated to the Order's headquarter. To this day they are being punished by immense guilt.

"Let's try to find the boy, okay?"Hagrid said and put one arm around Sirius who tried his best to resist him but the half-giant was too strong for him.

***

As they reached one-year-old Harry's room, Sirius faced his second catastrophe on that evening. A curse left his lips and he lunged at the body on the ground. Lily's long hair was spread around her head like a flaming red halo, her lips curved in a little smile and her green eyes focused on nothing anymore.

For the second time this evening Sirius allowed himself one cry of grief. Behind him Hagrid sniffed softly but Sirius didn't even notice. Just as he didn't notice the person in black clothes, which stood behind the door and that grimmaced as soon as they saw Sirius and disapparated.

"I'm so, so, so sorry," he whispered and closed her eyes. This time he didn't try to reanimate her, her skin was too cold already, it was too late.

The crying of a child woke him from his trance. Harry. Harry Potter. The boy that Voldemort marked as his equal. For a second a malicious thought overcame him, why Voldemort didn't choose Neville Longbottom, the son of his friends Alice and Frank Longbottom but even before he could form that thought in his mind, he hated himself for even considering that. It wasn't Neville's fault, not Alice's or Frank's. It wasn't Lily's fault or James's. And especially not Harry's.

It was his fault.

Sirius got up again and took the small boy out of his crib. "Come here, come to Uncle Padfoot. Everything's gonna be okay, we're gonna care for you, Uncle Moony and I, right?" He made a funny face and tapped Harry with the finger on the nose.

Harry giggled and Sirius held him tighter. At least he still had him.

Hagrid cleared his throat. "I'd need the boy now."
Sirius turned around, Harry slightly behind him, as if Hagrid was the enemy now.

"Dumbledore wants to know him in safety. I'm supposed to bring him to his aunt and uncle."

"He's gonna be in safety with me! He's gonna have it much better with me than with those ... monsters!", he spit the last words out, with so much hate, he didn't even know he had.

Hagrid looked at him with pity and shrugged. "I'm just following Dumbledore's orders, Sirius."

"And what if ... what if you'd say, I was there before you? What if I had arrived earlier and took him with me. And then ... then I'd be untraceable? Because, because we left the country? That would be ... rather unfavourable."

"Dumbledore knows you'd never leave the country. Especially not after ...", his voice cracked but Sirius knew what Hagrid was talking about. What else was he supposed to talk about?

"Hagrid, please," Sirius didn't beg, never, he was way too proud for that. But if he wouldn't be holding Harry on his arm, he would fall on his knees and beg Hagrid. "Hagrid, let me have the boy. He's the only thing left from them. I'm his godfather. That's what godfathers are for. I can take care of him, I promise. I know him much better than this monster."

But Hagrid shook his head. "I'm sorry, Sirius, I have to follow the orders."