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English
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Published:
2019-10-02
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1,521
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1/1
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Spark

Summary:

Fifteen years after the murder of the Potters, in the middle of the endless war against Voldemort, a messenger arrives for Sirius.

Notes:

This is a one-shot; I have no plans to continue. If anyone wishes to do so, they are more than welcome!

Work Text:





Sirius sat hunched over the kitchen table, alone.


It was the end result of another argument. The usual one, Remus pleading with him to give up his search for Peter and devote himself to Dumbledore's cause. This war was bigger than his revenge, people were dying, don't you see? Don't you care?


Of course he cared. But not as much as he cared about his revenge.


Ugly words were spoken, and Remus had left the kitchen.


So here they were, grown men sulking in different rooms.


If Remus didn't understand by now why Sirius needed to kill Peter, then there was no point in explaining it to him. Killing Peter was everything. The only thing. Sirius's life was worth nothing until he avenged the Potters. That's how he'd lived for the past fifteen years, every day devoted to that single goal. One way or another, he would kill Peter Pettigrew before he went to his grave.


Yet he still hadn't found him.


Where are you, you filthy bastard? he thought, for the thousandth time.


A knock on the door.


Sirius listened to Remus's footsteps moving toward the entrance but didn't reach for his wand. Only trusted members of the Order knew how to find this house, and anyway, Death Eaters wouldn't knock. They'd just blast the door in.


He wasn't expecting to hear a young girl's voice.


"You have lovely shutters! Bats live behind ours. Do yours have bats?"


Sirius looked up as Remus led a chatting Luna Lovegood into the kitchen. Remus looked rather bemused. Sirius looked at him, questions plain on his face.


What is she doing here? She's not in the Order; how did she find this place?


Remus could only shrug. Neither one knew the Lovegoods that well, only that they were allies and had a reputation for eccentricity, even among wizarding folk. Luna appeared not to notice their confusion at having a teenage girl for a visitor at their magically concealed home. She looked around the kitchen appreciatively, then looked from one of them to the other.


Remus spoke first. "Is everything all right, Luna?"


"I hope so!" she replied.


"...Yes. As do I." said Remus.


"How did you find this house?" asked Sirius with a hint of annoyance.


"Oh, the usual way."


"What?"


"Anyway, here." She held out her hand. In her palm lay a small piece of paper folded in half. It was old and wrinkled. It looked like any damaged fragment of paper one could find in the gutter. Luna held up the folded scrap with a strange, proud little smile. "It's a prophecy, you see."


Remus immediately took a step forward, interested, but Sirius stayed where he was.


"That little thing's a prophecy? Aren't they normally..." He made a vague spherical shape with his hand.


"Ordinarily, but this one was never preserved in a globe. These words were written by the original seer on this very parchment." She smiled at the little scrap, as if amazed to know that it had once been in the seer's own hands.


Remus ignored the incredulous look on Sirius's face and gestured to the paper but made no move to advance or touch it. Prophecies were a little-understood magic, after all. "Wherever did you find it?"


"Oh, in our attic. I was looking at some old dusty books I found up there, and someone had been using it as a bookmark."


Sirius and Remus stared.


Luna continued. "My great-grandmother was a seer, though not a famous one. Most of her visions were... less than helpful. 'Take heed of forty-seven,' or 'No fish in the bathroom,' things like that."


Sirius's confusion had become irritation. He wasn't interested in this girl's ramblings. Fortunately, Remus spoke up before he could say something unkind.


"Why bring it here? Why not bring it to Dumbledore? Prophecies can be dangerous."


That was true. People went to extreme lengths to either avoid or ensure the events foretold in prophecies. Sometimes not knowing was the safest option. Albus Dumbledore would be the best, the wisest choice for such a valuable magical object.


Luna turned to Sirius. "Because this prophecy is meant for you."


That gave Sirius pause. A prophecy meant for him? Remus turned to watch him expectantly, but said nothing.


"Fine," he muttered. "What's it say?"


"I don't know," Luna told him with a shrug.


Sirius sat back in his chair and ran a hand through his hair.


Remus frowned. "You don't know?"


"I do not."


"You didn't read it?"


"No, of course not."


Sirius raised his voice as his already fragile temper began to fray. "So how do you know it's mine, then?"


Luna appeared dismayed. "I wish I could explain it better! I knew it was a prophecy when I first touched it. My magic told me. And I knew it was meant for you the same way."


She looked between the two men. "I didn't read it because it's not mine. It wouldn't mean anything to me. I lack the context. But please believe me when I say that these words are meant for you, and that they're important."


Remus gave Sirius a gently beseeching look. "Sirius, maybe it's something that can help."


Help who? Help the cause? Help put a stop to this horrific war? Sirius pressed his palms to his eyes. That was really asking a lot of a tiny piece of paper.


It couldn't make any difference at all, to him. He didn't need a long dead seer to tell him what lie ahead for him.


The hunt. The kill.


For over a decade, Sirius Black had been devoted to that. He had abandoned every other interest and concern. All that mattered was finding that disgusting, traitorous rat and beating the life out of him.


His entire life was built around revenge, around justice for the Potters.


He turned away from Luna. "Save it. I know my future already."


"Oh but you don't understand! These words will change the course of your life."


"Change the course of my life?" Now that wasn't what he expected to hear. What did that even mean?


Killing Peter, that was his life. Voldemort had killed the Potters, but Peter had made it happen. They had been safe, and Peter had thrown away years of friendship and love for personal gain. He'd condemned James and Lily, and their child.

 

Sirius looked down as he remembered the baby. Sweet Harry. A tiny beacon of hope, who seemed to exist only to love and be loved. Murdered along with his parents, and their home destroyed. The blaze Voldemort left behind consumed the Potter's home and burned so hot, his tiny body was never even recovered.


The thought of that precious baby turned to ash made Sirius feel nauseated, even now.


He pushed the feeling down. Justice would not be done until Sirius found Peter Pettigrew and erased him from the world. The Potters had been his family, in every way that mattered, and Harry... Harry had been the brightest thing in his life.
 

Luna nodded desperately. "Please believe me!"


Sirius stood up, agitated. "Let's be clear. You say it's a prophecy, that it's mine, and that it will change my life? And you just know this? Just like that?"


"Yes!" Luna looked relieved to be understood at last.


Sirius stared at her for a moment and then sighed. "Fine."


He reached out, taking the slip of paper from Luna's hand.


Instead of unfolding it right away, he turned and took a few steps away from Luna and Remus, facing the other way.


Remus watched his friend's back as the soft sound of paper being unfolded reached him.


A moment of stillness, then Sirius whirled around and barrelled out of the room.


Remus dodged out of the way just in time, his cry of "Sirius? What-" going unanswered.


He regained his balance and made to follow but before he had even crossed the kitchen he heard the front door open and slam shut. Sirius would have apparated by now.


What on earth?


He looked back at the Luna, who stared through the door Sirius had rushed through a moment before. She turned to Remus, gave him a small shrug and a smile, then walked herself out.


Remus heard the door open and close again, much more gently.


He ran a hand through his graying hair, then looked back into the empty kitchen.


The small piece of paper was laying unfolded and face-down on the floorboards, having fallen from Sirius's hands, or perhaps having been tossed away as he raced out.


Remus walked over to where it lay and stared down at it for a long moment before stooping to pick it up.  As he straightened, he thought of the brief glimpse he had caught of Sirius's face as he'd barrelled past him.


Sirius hadn't looked upset. He had looked determined, unwaveringly so. Absolutely focused, and perhaps a little exhilarated? And Remus could hardly be sure, but he though he had seen the glint of tears.


He flipped the small piece of paper over, took in the words, and promptly forgot how to breathe.


Harry lives