The Funeral FF

My eyes filled with tears as I watched the undertakers lower the coffins into two graves set close together. They were to be buried in the graveyard next to the little church in Godric's Hollow. My grief seemed to diminish as it was replaced by anger, shock, hurt and betrayal as I thought of Sirius. The man, whom James had thought of as a best friend, almost a brother, had gone and betrayed James and Lily to Voldemort. Sirius had also murdered another friend. He had gone after Peter the day after Voldemort killed James and Lily and blasted him to smithereens, along with thirteen innocent Muggles. The largest bit of Peter that the Aurors could find was an index finger. Sirius had been arrested, caught in the act, laughing manically. He had been locked up in one of the most secure and protected cells in Azkaban.

Even though, I had seen Sirius murder Peter right in front of my eyes, somewhere, deep down inside me, I felt that Sirius could never had betrayed James to Voldemort. Sirius's happiness had known no bounds from the day he had befriended James. They had become such good friends on the Hogwarts Express that it seemed bizarre to think that they had not met each other before that day. Also, when James married Lily, it came as no surprise that he had named Sirius best man. Sirius had been ecstatic; his smile never left his face that day.

A couple of years later, Harry was born. When James had taken Harry into his arms for the first time, Sirius had been by his side. James had handed Harry to Sirius and asked him to be godfather. Sirius was overjoyed; in fact, it was probably the only time we had ever seen Sirius cry in front of us. Tears of happiness swimming in his eyes, Sirius had agreed at once. At the time, it had seemed as though he genuinely cared for James and Lily as well as Harry.

"Face it, Remus," a little voice inside my head told me. "Sirius was the one who killed James and Lily as well as Peter. After all, he was a Black. He could well have possessed the cold, cruel nature that nearly all the Blacks have'. he was just too clever to show it."

I sighed heavily, tears pricking my eyelids once more, as grief and sadness overwhelmed me again. James, Lily and Peter were dead. Sirius was in Azkaban. I was left all alone. I had never had any friends, other than the Marauders. I smiled a little as I thought of the name we had given ourselves when we were at Hogwarts. Lily had become a close friend too, when we were in seventh year.

I snapped back to reality as I heard one of the undertakers calling me to engrave the epitaphs on the graves. With fresh tears cascading down my face, I walked over to the graves and knelt down before them. With my wand and lots of deep thinking, I engraved the following epitaphs on the graves.

James Potter, born 27 March, 1960, died 31 October 1981

Lily Potter, born 30 January 1960, died 31 October 1981

The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death.

I got up, wiping away my tears. I had to find Dumbledore, to find out what was to happen to Harry, the last living descendant of the Potters and the Boy Who Lived.

Sirius's Point of View

I clutched the cold iron bars of my prison cell. A feeling over hopelessness and despair washed over me. This could be probably be due to the fact that the Dementors were near me, but for some reason, they didn't have much of an effect on me. My heart constricted as I thought of James and Lily. The whole world believed I had betrayed them'. even Remus. If only there was a way for me to tell Remus that I never handed James and Lily over to Voldemort. At least, if Remus knew, my conscience would be clear. Though how could it be, when I was the one who had persuaded James and Lily to make Peter Secret-Keeper in the first place, instead of myself?

My insides bubbled with anger as I thought of Peter; the person James, Remus and I had been best friends with, the person we had helped out of any difficulty he might have had, the person whom we'd protected from mean Slytherins'. and the person who, in the end, had betrayed his best friend, in order to save his own filthy skin. I smashed my fist against the prison door in rage. Now, in addition to every painful feeling in my heart, I also had a throbbing hand. I thought back to the day I had cornered Peter'

FLASHBACK

END OF FLASHBACK

I was devastated beyond expression but for some odd reason, tears would not come into my eyes. My heart felt as if it would break with the loss of Lily and James and the knowledge that the whole world, including one of my best friends, Remus, thought me to be a supporter of the Dark wizard I loathed the most. I thought of my godson, Harry. He would grow up knowing that his godfather had betrayed his parents, which had led to their early demise. It was all too much to bear. I paced back and forth in my prison cell, vowing that one day I would escape from Azkaban, clear my name, hunt down Pettigrew and either kill him then and there or throw him to the Dementors. I believed in all this because apart from Voldemort and his supporters (including Peter), I was the only person in the world who knew that Sirius Black was innocent.

Peter's Point of View

I was huddled in a corner of a slimy sewer in my Animagus form. My mind was in turmoil. Fear was stabbing my insides like sharp needles. What if the Death Eaters thought I had known that the little boy would destroy the Dark Lord? The only reason I had betrayed James and Lily was to save myself; what was the use of doing that if the Death Eaters were going to kill me anyway? At that moment, I almost regretted my hasty and impulsive action to join forces with the Dark Lord. I was the reason one of my best friends and his wife were dead. What was the use of being alive if I had to live with the fear that either the Death Eaters or Sirius and Remus would track me down and kill me?

I thought of little Harry and how the Dark Lord had failed to kill him. What extraordinary power did that child possess that he couldn't be murdered by the most evil wizard of all time? All the newspapers that I had managed to steal from garbage cans had his name and picture on the front page; the child was famous before he could even understand what fame was. I pictured James's laughing face and suddenly, without any warning, my eyes spilled over with tears and I began to sob. After all, he was my best friend and I had selfishly handed him over to the Dark Lord, just so that I could be free to live. But all the things that the Dark Lord had promised me were still so tempting; if only the Death Eaters did not think that I was partly the cause of the Dark Lord's pitiful condition, I could still have the life I had dreamed of ever since I could remember.

I didn't know what to do next. I couldn't spend my whole life living in damp, smelly sewers, eating nothing but slime and moss. I had to find a safe hiding place, where I could breathe freely and live without the fear of being found by anyone who was a threat to me. But was there such a place for me in this world? One thing was for certain ' I could not go back to the luxurious house in Ottery St. Catchpole that the Dark Lord had provided me with. It would be too easy for the Death Eaters to find me there.

Six hours later, I came up with a plan. I would go to Ottery St. Catchpole as a rat and skitter around in people's gardens until some child picked me up and wanted to keep me as a pet. That way I would be safe from all harm, since no one could possibly recognise me. Having decided that, I made my way to the quaint village I had grown up in and started to scuttle around in gardens. After narrowly escaping being killed by a mousetrap, I decided that the houses on the outskirts of the village would be safer for me to live in. I came across a garden in which a small red-headed boy was playing with a couple of garden gnomes. Seizing the opportunity, I darted towards the child and came to a stop just beside him. The boy stared at me warily for a moment and then hesitantly picked me up. I cuddled into his arms and saw his face break out into a wide smile. He stroked the fur on my back gently and whispered, "I think I'll call you Scabbers. It's a nice name for a rat." He got up, holding me in his arms and went into the house. For the time being, I was safe from Death Eaters and old friends. I had started my new life as a pet rat named Scabbers.