In 1976, Sirius Black met the love of his life.
In 1980, two lives were given, and one was taken.
In 1981, Sirius Black was carted off to Azkaban, and his children lost their last bit of family.
In 1991, Harry Potter walked through the doors of the...
notice: we r not switching povs this week since this is a part 2 of chapter 9
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There was a moment of silence in the room as we all tried to process what the two men were saying. It wasn't possible.
"You're both mental," Ron breathed.
"This is absolutely ridiculous! We should just turn them into Professor Dumbledore," Hermione pitched.
"Peter Pettigrew is dead," I said, confused, "you told me yourself, Papa." I turned to face my birth father, "and you killed him."
"No, but I should have," Sirius Black growled, his teeth barred. "That little wart got the best of me, but not this time," Sirius lunged at Ron, or well, I think he was aiming for the rat, but he fell directly onto Ron who cried out in pain.
"Sirius, no!" Papa shouted, trying to pull him back. I could see Papa was struggling. He seemed weak. He panted, exhausted, "You can't just do it like that, there's no validation in that, you'd go right to Azkaban, you have to think rationally, we have to explain," Papa poised.
"You haven't changed a bit Moony, you know that."
Papa shifted uncomfortably, avoiding his gaze.
"We can explain after," Sirius argued, still clawing at Ron trying to get to Scabbers.
"They've - got - a - right - to - the - story," Papa panted again, sweat beads rolling down his forehead. Sirius was a bigger man than he was, not in an unhealthy way or anything. Both of the men were lean, but Papa was just smaller. "Harry, and Zenith have a right to the whole story, there's even parts I don't understand."
"Alright, I suppose you're right," Sirius said, backing slowly away from Ron, but his deathly gaze never left Scabbers who was fighting against Ron's tight hold. Ron's poor hands were bleeding from the way Scabbers was clawing and biting at him. "But tell them quickly Remus, I would like to commit the murder I was imprisoned for."
It had been a long time since I had heard someone use Papa's first name. Black said it like it was the finest of royalty, it rolled right off his tongue. I guess I didn't realize until now, but he had an accent. Almost proper, very posh.
"You're absolutely nutters, the both of you," Ron said, his voice breaking. He looked at me and Harry for help, "I want to get out of here," he tried to stand up on his own, but Papa quickly pulled his wand from his belt, "No, you and Pettigrew need to stay right here."
"He's not Peter, he's Scabbers," Ron protested, but he might as well have given up, he wasn't getting out of here, not unless they let him. Black blocked off the doorway.
Ron nearly fell again, but I quickly caught him, "Papa, you know as well as I do that people saw Pettigrew die, how can he possibly be this rat if many can attest to his death?"
