Disclaimer: If you can't convince them, confuse them.

Foreword

A baby was crying in the crib. Drops of rain fell on the boy through the cracked roof, making him cry harder.

His mother laid dead on the floor, his father on the floor below.

A dark spirit was flying away from that house, seeking shelter in nearby forests.

The rumbling noise of a motorcycle broke the eerie silence around the neighbourhood, and Sirius Black stepped down from his bike. Each step he took was heavier than the last. Scorch marks covered the immaculately crafted gardens of Lily, rainwater covered the path to the door.

Pettigrew would pay for this betrayal.

He entered the house without a wand. If they were all dead, he would've liked to be dead as well. He found James first, his face was calm, serene. Sirius closed his eyes, and started ascending the stairs.

He stepped over what remained of the door to see Lily dead by her child's crib.

And then he heard the cry.

He looked up and saw his Godson standing in his crib and crying in his way. Slowly he stepped over the various furniture that had fallen and made his way to the crying child.

Lord Black had trained himself not to cry, because that was what his mother wanted. Sirius had created this goofy persona in a direct rebellion to his mother. He hadn't cried since the day he had run away from his family.

But when he held Harry, Sirius Black cried.

It wasn't fair. Fate didn't even allow him the sweet release of death. Because now the child was his responsibility, and the world be damned if he ever ran away again.

He held the baby as he navigated back to his bike, each step deliberate and full of regret.

Lightning arched in the heavens, and He heard the sound of a portkey.

His wand was in his unused hand in a heartbeat.

Rubeus Hagrid, sent by Dumbledore, was ambling towards the house.

He took one look at him, and began crying. "Both?" Hagrid asked, dreading the answer.

"Yes," said Sirius in a monotone.

Hagrid took a moment to control himself, before he said, "Death Eaters have attacked Hogsmead. All the Professors are busy. If Dumbledore could've come..." He trailed off.

Sirius just nodded. He didn't care about anyone at this moment.

'Pettigrew would pay dearly,' his heart said.

'No. No he wouldn't. Not yet. I still have to take care of Harry,' his mind said.

"I'm taking him home with me, Hagrid," Sirius said decisively.

"Dumbledore will visit you as soon as he has time." Sirius nodded.

He turned back to his motorcycle, revved up the engine, put Harry into the side-car with a binding spell for good measure, and blasted off into the thunderstorm above. Apparition was unstable at the best of times, and he didn't want to risk his godson any more than he had to.

Hagrid nodded, and returned back to Hogwarts with the dreadful news. He didn't know how many would die this Hallow's Eve.

"You promised me he wouldn't kill Lily," said Severus Snape.

He was leaning at the door to the Headmaster's office. Dumbledore sat at his chair, head in his hands. Candles in the room grew dimmer as the night wore on, the darkness creeping inside through the windows like the storm that was blowing past Scotland.

"I did whatever I could," He said gravely.

"It wasn't good enough." The tone was as bitter as it was regretful.

Lightning flashed through the window, illuminating the crying face of Severus.

"What would you have me do? I couldn't very well force them to flee, could I? James wouldn't run away—" Snape sneered, "—and neither would Lily."

"It matters not. I am leaving Britain tonight. Always remember how you broke the trust of a needful man, Albus Dumbledore."

"The child still lives." Snape stopped cold.

"So?"

"He's the last part of Lily that still breathes, Severus."

"He is a Potter."

"He is a child of Lily. You and I both know that Voldemort will return some day." Snape flinched at the name.

"You want me to protect a child of James Potter," Snape said in defeat.

"I will not tell you what you should do Severus. But you must know how useful you would be when he returns."

He turned back and made his way back to his quarters.

"I have seen the boy. He has her eyes, green as a new leaf," came Dumbledore's voice from his office before the door shut.

"HE-WHO-MUST-NOT-BE-NAMED DEAD!"

The Daily Prophet's morning headlines caused a reaction in everyone who read it.

The most common was suspicion. The Dark Lord couldn't simply be dead. He was too great, too powerful to just die. Reading the embellished story of a mere child defeating the most feared Dark Lord cemented the suspicion, and so quite a few owls were making their way to the editor's office.

The next most observed reactions in the readers was relief. Finally they could go out of their homes unafraid. The tyranny was finally over.

In the house of a family of Redheads, a small boy found a rat in his garden.

A brown haired little girl summoned a book from the top of her shelf, which her parents rationalized away.

A sandy haired boy slept peacefully in the arms of his mother, while his father was out catching Dark Wizards.

These children would be so crucial in deciding the fate of the Wizarding world some day, but now they were just small kids happy in their tiny lives. They weren't concerned for any Dark Lords terrorizing their country.

And if their parents had any say in the matter, they never would be.

AN: Critical reviews are always welcome. I love to hear what my readers think of my attempts at writing stories. So don't hesitate in reviewing.

Lectio Beatus!