Hér er saga sem ég byrjaði á fyrir nákvæmlega þremur árum síðan en lauk ekki við fyrr en um það leyti sem 5. bókin kom loks út. Ég lagði mikla vinnu í þessa sögu, þótt ég hafi nú ekki skrifað samfellt í þessi þrjú ár, og það kom ýmislegt í ljós, sem ekki er augljóst við fyrsta, annan eða jafnvel 3. lestur bókanna og það reyndist erfitt að raða bitum púsluspilsins saman. En það sem kom í ljós varð til þess að ég skrifaði seinna meir grein sem kallast Sirius Black er vondur maður, grein sem þið kannist kannski við. Þessi saga er kveikjan að henni. Hún er líka á kasmírsíðunni minni og ég var beðin um að birta hana hér. :)
Hún er á ensku. Gjörið þið svo vel:

The Darkest of Nights

A man was sitting in a living room, his elbows posing on his knees, his head in his hands. He was afraid. The world had turned upside down. That was years ago but now his own world had turned. It concerned his best friends… and him.
There was a traitor among his friends, a traitor who had been giving The Dark Lord information about the Potters. And he knew who it was. Or he thought he did. He wasn’t completely sure, but as long as there was the tiniest hint, he couldn’t trust him.
The one he suspected was a man, a man he had known since their first year at Hogwarts, School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. A man whom he had trusted without doubt for so long. A man that once was one of his best friends.
He stood up, couldn’t stay still. They all knew the Potters had to hide. That was why they had used this powerful spell, so the Potters could be safe.
And he was chosen to be the secret-keeper. He had accepted. But then, only after a couple of days, he had changed his mind. He was their best friend. It would be too evident he was their secret-keeper. And he was afraid he would talk if tortured. So he spoke to his friends and they agreed. They transferred the secret to the least obvious one, Peter, who didn’t look strong enough to fight a kid. But they chose him because they trusted him and knew he was stronger than he looked.
They didn’t tell Remus.
And now he was alone. The Potters were in hiding, Peter was in hiding and Remus… He didn’t trust him anymore.
He was scared and walked back and forth till he couldn’t wait longer. He hurried out and jumped on his giant motorbike; a broom could be seen by unwanted witnesses.
He hurried to Peter’s hideout. When he arrived, there were no lights in the windows. A chill ran down his back. He walked towards the door. They were closed, but not locked. The chill turned into fear. He burst the door open and ran inside calling for Peter.
No answer.
He looked everywhere in the house, everywhere. But there was no sign of Peter. But there was no sign of fight ether. Peter was gone.
But where could he be?
The fear turned into terror and he ran out instantly.

It was dark, but that didn’t change the fact that what he saw was truly real.
He stood like frozen and stared for millions of moments. Then he let out a cry and ran as fast as he could to the house’s remains.
He ran around, from room to room, crying, looking for something, anything, anything at all that proved he was wrong. What he found were bodies. The bodies of James and Lilly Potter, lying, motionless, with horror in their dead eyes. A proof that he was right.
And then, suddenly, he realised. Like he was being stabbed in the stomach, he felt the terror rise again when he finally realised what was going on. When he finally understood the only explanation.
Remus wasn’t the traitor!
He fell down beside his best friends’ bodies and cursed their fate. Cried their death. Cursed Peter.
And himself.
Then he heard another cry. A cry of a baby. The cry of the Potters’ son! He jumped up on his feet, didn’t believe his own ears. But there he was, in his little crib, still alive.
The man trembled and his hands were shaking when he reached for the boy. He didn’t believe this could be possible. How could he be alive?
There was a nasty scar on his forehead but there was no time for wondering about it; a sound came from behind. He turned around leaving the boy in his crib, his wand ready. In the dark, all he could see was a giant sized shadow walking towards him.
“Sirius?” the shadow growled.
Sirius let down his wand when he recognised the voice.
“Hagrid! It’s you!” he said relieved, “Look what he’s done! They’re dead! They’re dead!” He pronounced the last words low and crying. The big shadow stepped near and its hairy face could be seen. Sirius started crying out loud and Hagrid put his giant sized arms around him, tears in his eyes, to console him.
“Yes, they’re dead. That monster killed ‘em, but the boy is safe! They say You-Know-Who couldn’t kill ‘im, that the spell reflected back ta hisself!”
Sirius nodded, rubbing his head to the giant’s chest.
“Yes, he’s alive.”
The two men stood still, grieving and crying for a while.
Then Hagrid stroke away his tears with the back of his hand and said: “You should go home, try ta sleep; there’s surely a lot of work ta do tomorrow. I’ll take the boy.”
But Sirius shook his head:
“No. I-I’ll take Harry, Hagrid, I’m his godfather, I’ll take care of him!”
“That’s true, but Dumbledore told me I should bring him ta his Aunt and Uncle’s.”
“But he’s my best friend’s son!” Sirius’s voice was hoarse.
“I know, but Dumbledore told me clearly and strictly that I should bring the boy ta him!” Hagrid insisted.
Sirius didn’t answer right away but when he did, he had taken a decision.
“Alright. Take him, but take good care of him!” he stepped away from Hagrid. “Watch him real close, don’t let him be cold!”
“Don’tcha worry! They were my friends too, you know! I’ll take care of ‘im!”
Hagrid lifted the boy, who had stopped crying, up. He was so big he could hold the boy in the palm of his hand.
Sirius looked down at the dead bodies of his best friends and his face became dark.
“Take my bike Hagrid, then you’ll get to Dumbledore much quicker.”
“Wha? No, no, no, I’ll just stick to my…”
“No, take it! I won’t need it anymore.” Sirius’ fists were closed and tears were starting running down his cheeks again. Hagrid was puzzled.
“It’s your bike, it took you years ta earn enough ta buy it! Sirius, I can’t…”
“Oh, don’t worry; you can just give it back to me later if you want to. But right now, you should get going, Dumbledore must be waiting for you!” With that, the man turned around and walked away from the giant and the baby muttering:
“And I’ve got things to do…”

He was running, walking, sneaking on every street. He was watching, glaring, searching every corner. He hadn’t even changed clothes, so people were glaring back at him where he dashed in his black robe with his wand in his hand.
He had to find him! He had to find the traitor and avenge his friends! It wasn’t Remus! He never betrayed them!
Silly werewolf stories.
The sun was already up and rising. People were waking up and coming out on the streets. They stared at him as he ran seeking.
He had to find him!
And suddenly, there he was, on a calm morning walk, it seemed, short with rather thin hair and in muggle clothes, just wandering around!
“Peter!” he shouted, “Peter!”
Peter turned around. He was going to smile, nervously, but then he saw his friend’s eyes and the smile died in birth. He opened his mouth, seemed afraid, but Sirius was already in front of him.
“Peter!”
Peter took a step back, looking nervous.
“Sirius?” he replied.
“How could you?” Sirius held his wand tight and looked into his former friend’s eyes. “How could you betray them?” He whispered, his eyes now dry. “How could you betray us all? After everything! After all those years we’ve been friends! How could you do such a thing? And the baby-boy. He’s just a baby and you want him dead?!”
People walked past them and gave them unreceptive glares. The little man looked nervous when he answered:
“W-what are you talking ab-bout S-Sirius?” and his hands searched in his inner chest pocket. He took a step backwards, and another one.
“You know who I’m talking about Wormtail! You won’t get away with this,”
Peter put his hands behind his back and his face deformed with silent pain, only giving away one hic. Sirius noticed nothing; he was blinded with rage as he stood shaking and kept on:
“Not when I know you did it, because no one else could have done it! You were the secret keeper, you…!” he was still whispering when Peter, who had slowly stepped away, jumped back into a corner several metres away and cried:
“Lily and James, Sirius! How could you?!”
Sirius waved his wand, and sent away a strike of light, Peter’s lips stirred and there was a big explosion. Sirius was taken aback but he did not get hurt.
Everything was covered with smoke, people who were too close to Peter, were screaming and moaning. When the dust finally set, a large fissure could be seen on the spot where the little man had been standing.
And around it were bodies. A dozen of bodies, lying there, motionless… But this time there was no fright in their eyes. Some of them had taken too much damage to be recognizable.
Sirius looked at the scene. What had just happened? He didn’t understand. But then slowly he noticed the traitor was not standing anymore.
His mouth puckered.
But there was no body either. Where could he be? He couldn’t have escaped? Disapparated? No, not with such short notice.
And then he caught sight of something. It was lying there, at the edge of the gap, bloody and dusty.
Peter’s robe!
And something else. Something small and crooked. Something of Peter himself.
A finger.
Peter’s finger. It was all that was left of him.
The avenger was pale and his lips puckered again. Was this for real? Was this really all what was left of the wolf in sheep clothing? There was clearly nothing under the robe…
Sirius let out a short sound of laughter, deprived of joy of any kind. Around him were people panicking and crying. He stood still and stared at the robe and the finger. Another short laughter escaped from his mouth.
He was in shock.
And steadily his laughter magnified, he had no control over it; he felt shaken, scared, empty by the loss of his friends. But at the same time he sensed a wild contentment over the death of his enemy. These emotions, mixed with sorrow, panic and exhaustion burst out in a laughter of a madman.