#rcbeus

He couldn’t stop shaking. Stepping over broken glass, a splintered door and a shattered crib, Sirius climbed the ruined stairs of the Potter’s home--the place they were supposed to have been safe--and came into Harry’s bedroom. He had already met James’ body downstairs: eyes still open, no sign of what had killed him--which meant, of course, that it had been a simple green light. It had taken all of Sirius’ will power to keep moving--and he might never have, would have stayed kneeling by the body of his best mate until death took him too--if it hadn’t been for Harry. He’d left his jacket, his favorite leather jacket, the one he wore every day, no matter how hot it was, draped over James’ body, over his eyes, hoping the darkness would give him some peace.

Tears staining his cheeks, his entire body shaking, Sirius pushed open the door, and a broken sob escaped him, ripped from his chest, as he looked first at the giant form of Hagrid, holding a crying, baby Harry, and then at Lily: her body sprawled too across the ground, eyes open--the same eyes that were crying and bloodshot over Hagrid’s shoulder. They were dead. Lily and James. They really were dead.

It was impossible for Sirius not to beam at Hagrid’s warm greeting. After growing up where he had--with a Hag for a mother, Sirius would insist--having someone like Hagrid around was wonderful. There wasn’t a hint of skeptism in him, and he was always so genuine with everything he did.

    “S’alright. M--Remus, he reckons it’s good to go both ways. If you could tell me what the charm does, I’ll try to do the right one?” He pushed off the wall and was about to mention how he didn’t know what Charms he would even need to know (other than a heating charm that didn’t catch the bed on fire) when he noticed Hagrid’s appearance.