Chapter 2 - Sirius Black

The night was dark. The full moon's light was all but hidden by the wisps of cloud that covered the sky. The few rays that did make it to the earth, shown eerily through the branches of nearby trees. One would never be able to see that their once green leaves were now violent shades of red, yellow, and brown.

It was quiet. Too quiet one could say. Not a sound echoed through the dense woods. Not a cricket chirping, or an owl's lonesome hoot. Not even the sound of the wind flapping the shutters on the nearby house pierced the night.

The small whitewashed house stood alone in the clearing. Overshadowed by the trees that were just far enough away that their branches just failed to reach over the roof. It had stood for centuries, and been abandoned for over twenty years, until now.

The house's newest occupant had failed to scrape off the peeling paint and replace it. He had not fixed the crooked shutters and he had barley bothered to fix the holes in the roof. The house's occupant had never planned to stay there long, no matter what the others thought, and he was not there now.



A loud rumble split the silence of the night, and a dark shape soared across the sky. Soon what was unmistakably a flying motorcycle touched down on what was left of the now dead, front lawn. The rumble quickly died to a low hum, and the Motorcycle's rider dismounted.

“PETER!” the rider shouted, removing his helmet, “Peter, it's me, Sirius!” He walked up to the front door and pounded with his fist.

“Peter! Come on Peter, open up. Don't be such a coward!” there was no answer.



Sirius placed his hand on the latch and was vaguely surprised when the door opened. The man he was looking for had always been the type to lock his door, whether he was home or not.

“Probably hiding under the bed,” Sirius mumbled. “Wouldn't be the first time.” Pausing inside he lit a lamp and looked around. There was nothing, and that, was what bothered him. There was no evening paper on the table, no empty soda cans, not even the rug was disturbed. Slowly Sirius moved through out the house, checking every room, and ignoring the pricking at the back of his neck. “Peter?” he called softly, “are you even here?” Still there was nothing, no signs of a struggle, no sign of life. It was then that Sirius realized what was missing, there, on the peg by the door, was no cloak.

“What,” Sirius whispered hoarsely, “have I done?” Hastily grabbing a piece of paper from a drawer, he scrawled a quick note before tossing it into the fire with a bit of Flew powder. Rushing out side he leapt on to his bike and launched into the air.

True it'd be faster to Apparate, but he didn't know were to Apparate to, only that the Potter's were hidden somewhere in Godric's hollow. With any luck, James would hear the motorcycle and come running. If only he wasn't too late!

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