The Marauders - Order of the Phoenix - Part Two

LXII: 23 June, 1994

How fitting... that the murder take place in the Shrieking Shack... thought Sirius as he dragged the rat - Ron and all - down the tunnel.

How fitting that they return to the scene of their greatest moments of friendship... just to remind the traitor exactly what he'd thrown away.

Let him see the photographs of James's smiling face all time-worn and ruined laying in the shambles of the place where they'd once laughed and played games, once watched films and eaten popcorn, told ghost stories, and shared their secrets. 

Let him be standing on the very spot where they'd made the Map, where James had called him brave, where there had been moments of sorrow and moments of joy, where everything that the Marauders were to one another was symbolized by the smells and the cuts in the ceiling... where the dust on the floor sat on top of memories that had been allowed to grow twelve years stale because of the choice that he, Peter, had made.

Sirius would hold James's picture right in Peter's face, and force him to look James Potter in the eyes and then he would press his wand to his throat and -- he wouldn't do the avada kedavra, no that would be too quick... Too quick and Peter Pettigrew had twelve years of atoning, of suffering, to do before he died. Sirius wanted him to have a good long look at James's face as he lay there in the Clubhouse, he wanted it to be slow.

And then, Sirius decided, when that had been taken care of... then he would turn his wand on himself, and have a good long look at James's face, too.

After all, Achyls whispered, it's just as much your fault as it is Peter's... isn't it? If it wasn't for you, James Potter would still be alive... 

Monster...

He just had to get this damned kid to give him the rat.

He was on his hands and knees, scrambling about in the dust under the desk, searching - searching - he knew there were pictures out here, they'd left them all over the wall hadn't they? Permanent sticking charms and spellotape... All those old polyroids from Marlene McKinnon's camera, the camera they stole... Sirius could still feel the roof tiles slipping under his feet as she screamed at him out the window as he ran across the roof, blowing her kisses and waving...

Ron lay next to the bed, clutching the shivering lump in his chest pocket.

"Don't let go, boy," Sirius growled, "I'm nearly ready to commit my murder!" he cackled manically, his head swimming. 

Where were those pictures? Where were the memories? Where were the pictures? Where were their faces, the eyes that he wanted to Peter to remember, to stare into? And then to look into himself? Where was James? Where was Lily?

They're gone, Achlys whispered.

"No, no they're not, they're here, they have to be here, they have to be here, they have to be... Ferfuckssakes, they have - got - to - be -" He glanced over, Ron was whimpering. "Calm down it'll be all over soon... soon... much sooner than you think!" and he laughed and pushed aside the desk, searching through the dust behind it, coughing as it flew up and into his mouth, "Just as soon as -- where is he...?"

James Potter is gone, even his pictures are gone. And it's you that's caused that, isn't it?

"I didn't.. I didn't..." 

You did.

Sirius scrambled, moving so his back was against the wall, his face screwed up with pain and he was shaking.

You don't deserve to look into their faces. You'll never see him again.

Sirius covered his face with his hands. "Why aren't they here, why aren't they --? Where did they go?" he looked up at the boy laying on the floor across the room. "Where are they?" he begged.