As if it needs to be said, I make no money from this story or anything else I write here. All rights for Harry Potter and all other characters, etc belong exclusively to JKR and I make no claims on any of it. Thanks to Ms. Rowling for letting us into her sandbox.

Rated M for violence, language, and adult themes.

There are some VERY short chapters, so consider yourself warned.

Prologue One

He stopped when he got to the stairs. The Death Eaters that had been in the house had fled or died at his wand, but the stairs... he knew what was upstairs and the silence chilled him to the bone.

He forced his legs to work, to mount the first stair, then the second. The fourth one always creaked, and the carpet bunched on the sixth. There was a body in the boy's room, in the doorway. Black robes, wide, staring eyes. Disbelief etched on the face.

He made the mistake of looking past the body, into the room. Red hair spilled on the floor. Pale, slender hands and wrists touched with blue.

A scream came from everything inside him, ripping out of him as the sight burned into his mind. He turned from it, but it was too late. It was behind his eyes now. It burned his blood and made his skin crawl with the need for to not be so. His eyes watered and streamed down his face as his lungs pushed the last of his air away, and he sank to his knees before his lungs would let any back in. He breathed. he breathed and moved and thought and they didn't. His family, his life - gone.

His eyes focused again, finding the face responsible. This fuck. This putrid, selfish, mindless, psychotic, worthless, fucking piece of shit. He had done this. He stood again, and smashed the heel of his boot against that fucking face. The nose broke and the skin tore, and it was something. He did it again. And again. Bone broke and the nose caved in and things began to leak through. It wasn't enough. He didn't stop until it wasn't a face anymore. Until it was nothing. Nothing recognizable. Flat. Carpet Plus.

There was a sound then, just at the edge of hearing, and something about it pulled his mind from that place. It was close. In the room.

Every other footfall squished, but he payed it no mind.

It wasn't coming from Lily. It wasn't coming from the bathroom. It was the crib. It was coming from the crib. An un-dared-for hope sprang into being inside his chest.

The boy gurgled and turned over.

The boy lived.

Tears came again, sweet instead of bitter. He reached down to pull the pup to him. He picked up his blanket, a couple of toys. He would need a bag. The bag Lily always carried when they went anywhere. That would do. It was beside the crib. Blanket, toys, what else? Picture Album. He would want that later. Father's wand. Mother's wand. Downstairs to the den. Family Grimoire. Important Documents. Lily was always the thinker, far ahead of anyone else, and James always made sure it was done.

His pulse pounded when he smelled The Rat, and waves of need to chase, to hunt, to kill swept over him. NO! He denied it. The pup was more important. He could hunt The Rat when it wasn't looking over its shoulder for him. He would bide his time and spill its lifeblood down his muzzle. Time enough for that. See to the pup. The pup was paramount.

Hagrid was at the door. Good man, misinformed. Trusted Dumbledore too much. They would all blame him for this, not The Rat. None of them knew they had switched secret keepers. He had to be quiet and disappear. Take care of the pup. See to the important things.

He padded silently out the back door and mounted his brother's broom. He needed stealth now, so he stayed low, to the shadows, and only took to the sky when he was far, far from home.

He could not go anywhere he'd ever been before. He knew that. They would all be looking for him soon. He hired a small flat for too much money and no questions asked, and made sure the pup was fed and sleeping. He didn't want to leave him, but it was necessary. Just for a while. Soon as the pup slept, he set him down and made sure he was silent and invisible. Even if someone came into the place, they wouldn't notice him.

Then he Apparated to Gringotts.

"I would like to speak with Wargrin, my account manager please." He told the nearest goblin.

"I'm sorry, Wargin is -"

"WAKE HIM. It's important."

He was shown to a meeting room, and waited for no more than ten minutes before a tired Wargrin arrived.

"My apologies, Wargrin. Voldemort has killed the Potters. I am going to be blamed for it, and I need to ensure that I can access my vaults in order to care for the child."

"I see. You will be blamed because?"

"Because Dumbledore is arrogant and won't think that Lily could alter his spell to change secret keepers."

"You are the logical choice, so it was wise to change. The choice of new keeper not so wise I guess."

"I will hunt him until his flesh falls from his bones."

The goblin looked at him through suddenly fierce and shining eyes, respect and honour written on his features. "I will arrange it. Your vaults will be accessible through the name Canis Archer."

The goblin opened his desk and pulled some parchments from two different drawers, as well as a dagger.

"Sign these, then here with the name Canis Archer, and add a drop of blood."

Sirius signed his name and then his new name, and pricked his finger for the requisite blood.

"Thank you, Wargrin. I apologize again for disturbing you. Rest well, and may we see each other again at some point." He held out his hand to the goblin, who shook it.

"Hunt well." The goblin smiled, showing rows of sharp piercing teeth.

Sirius left quickly and quietly, and Apparated the instant it was possible.

He immediately went to the pup, and the pup was still there, still safe.

"Almost done, pup." He said softly. "Almost. We lie low for now. I'll get you some food when the shops open, and we'll rest tomorrow. Tomorrow night we fly for France, and find a portkey to America. Maybe Canada. Once we're there we can relax a little and begin your education. We have a lot to do and not much time to do it in. You come first, but I hope there's a little time for Rat hunting."

He pulled one of the small chairs away from the tiny table in the kitchen and transfigured it into a crib next to the sofa. He set the sleeping child down softly into the crib, cradled in his bunched-up blanket, and sat on the sofa. He closed his eyes and let his head droop forward. They were as safe as they could be for now, it was time to recoup some energy for the coming flight.

His right foot ached.