Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters. They're all here because of the amazing JK Rowling.

A/N: I've never tried something like this before. It's not a ship story. And I'm not sure if I caught all the emotions properly. So please read and review and tell me where I've went wrong and how I can improve. Advices are always welcome!

Albus Dumbledore was pacing around in his office. He was tired and felt like he had aged ten years during the last hour. Guilt and regret threatened to engulf him, but he took a deep breath as if to stop that from happening. Feeling somewhat defeated, he sat down behind his desk and waited for his colleagues.

A few minutes later he heard a knock on his door and looked up. That must be them, he thought.

"Enter," he said, his voice rough.

Professors Sprout, Flitwick and Slughorn entered. They all wore the same expressions of disbelief.

"Please, close the door behind you," said Dumbledore.

Slughorn closed the door and stood beside his fellow teachers. "Albus? Is it true?" He was the first one to speak.

Dumbledore sighed deeply before replying, "I'm afraid so."

Professor Sprout started crying and Professor Flitwick gave an involuntary gasp. Professor Slughorn stared at Dumbledore, still refusing to believe it.

"But…. But what happened?" asked Sprout through sobs.

"It seems like they were betrayed by someone they thought was a friend." Dumbledore said gravely. "However, their son, Harry, seemed to have survived. Although, how it had happened, we can only guess."

There were a few minutes of silence as everybody tried to digest this information, waiting for Dumbledore to explain more.

"So what happens to the boy now?" asked Flitwick at last, when Dumbledore didn't illustrate further.

"I have sent for the child to be collected. He shall go live with his aunt and uncle."

"But aren't they Muggles?" asked Slughorn, bewildered.

"Yes, they are," replied Dumbledore.

"But why?" exclaimed Flitwick. "I'm sure there will be a lot of wizarding families that would be willing to take the boy in!"

Dumbledore didn't want to explain everything to them. He hadn't even told them that he had quite a good idea about what may have happened at Godric's Hollow tonight. His guesses about Lily's sacrifice and the protection it gave the boy, he was sure were correct. But explaining that would mean that he would have to spend a lot more time talking rather than being left alone as he so wished.

"My dear Professor," Dumbledore began. "I have no doubt that you are correct. There will indeed be a lot of wizarding families willing, and possibly hoping, to raise the boy. But he shall not grow up listening to stories about his own brilliance. I do not want that for the boy. It is for his own good, that I'm sending him to his relatives. It will do him good to grow up away from all this. He will know when the time is right. For now, he is just a boy, who has lost his parents and they are the only family he has left.

"I shall address the students and inform them of the-" he suddenly stopped, struggling to decide if this was good news or bad news. He decided that it was neither. "Well, the news. I request of you to make sure that all the students from your respective houses are there in the Great Hall at breakfast tomorrow. It is quite late to wake them now."

"Albus, where is Minerva?" Sprout asked looking around as the other two nodded, heeding Dumbledore's words.

"She has requested a day off and won't be back before the day after tomorrow. Therefore, will you be kind enough to inform the Gryffindors as well?" Sprout nodded. Dumbledore sat up. "Now, if you please, I have many things to work through."

The others understood that they were dismissed and exited the chamber one by one. Dumbledore watched them leave, Slughorn closing the door as he exited lastly. He sat back down on his chair and continued to gaze at the closed door, letting himself get overwhelmed by emotion as he had never done.

The next morning dawned a little too quickly. Ignorant as to what had happened while they slept peacefully, all the students got ready for the day. Their Heads of houses had informed that all the student were required in the Great Hall today and that no student shall stay behind in their common room. Chatting excitedly about the unknown events about to occur in the Great Hall, the students left their common rooms. As they entered the Great Hall, some of them noticed the absence of Professor McGonagall and some noticed the grave expressions all the teachers wore.

"Blimey, what's up with them? They look like somebody had just died!" A Ravenclaw fifth year was telling his friend. "If they hadn't already left, I'd say maybe the Marauders pulled another prank!"

When it seemed like all the students had taken their seats in their respective house tables, Dumbledore stood up. The chatter died down immediately as if a Silencing Charm had been casted upon them.

"Last night," Dumbledore began in a grave voice. "Lord Voldemort tried to kill another family. A well known, loved family that we shall all be sorry to have lost. He succeeded in killing Lily and James Potter, yet failed to kill their son Harry, as his curse backfired. Lord Voldemort has disappeared, and I think it is safe to assume that he won't be coming back."

Younger students exclaimed in delight at the good news. They chatted among themselves, excitedly, until they realized that none of the older students were making any kind of noise. They saw silent tears stream down some of their faces, but was unable to understand why they were crying after hearing such wonderful news. Their shocked faces puzzled them.

The Head Boy, who was a Gryffindor was the first one to speak, his voice shaking as he looked directly at Dumbledore and asked, "Professor…. You're telling us that James and Lily are dead? They're gone?"

Dumbledore looked at the boy sadly before replying, "I'm afraid so."

There were audible sounds of crying now. Not only from the students, but the teachers as well. The younger students were still looking confused. But didn't they hear what Dumbledore said? You-Know-Who is gone. They were safe. Why aren't they celebrating? They looked on as the older students hugged each other, some crying silently, some crying till their eyes were red, some staring ahead still shocked at the news.

What the younger students didn't know was that James and Lily, former Head Boy and Girl, had been a part of the older students' lives. They didn't know Lily, the kind and nice girl, who helped anyone whenever she could, who tutored willingly, who always stood up for everything that was good. The red haired girl, who smiled at everyone, her green eyes shining, was gone; dead. Nobody would see her sparkling eyes again. They didn't know James, the boy who was always pulling pranks with his friends, who was the greatest Chaser they had ever seen, who never hesitated to help those in trouble, who was always loyal to his friends. The black haired boy with intense Hazel eyes was gone; dead. Nobody would see him running his hand through his already messy hair again. They didn't know James and Lily, and now, they never will.

Professor McGonagall was still in her animagus form. She continued to sit on the brick wall as a cat, thinking to herself. Could the rumours be true? Was he really gone? There were celebrations all around. People were so happy they were being careless enough to catch the attention of Muggles. Surely, it must be true, then?

But what about the other rumours? Are they true, as well? Are Lily and James really dead? No, it couldn't be. As much as she was exasperated by James, she knew that the boy's heart was in the right place, And she knew how much he loved Lily and their son. He would not let anyone harm them. He would die before he let anyone harm them. Surely, he wouldn't have just died. He couldn't! And Lily might look delicate, but she knew that that girl was as brave as they come. Surely she would do anything to protect the man she loved. She would never let any harm come to their son. It simply wasn't possible. The rumours must be false. They were probably injured, but surely not dead? She would not believe that James and Lily Potter were dead. She refused to believe that.

But of course, Dumbledore will be here shortly. And he will assure her that the rumours are, indeed, false. Yes, that was her only option. Wait. Just wait for Dumbledore.

Remus Lupin was sitting on the floor of his small, shabby bedroom, leaning against his bed. His legs were pulled up to his chest and his scarred arms were wrapped around them, hugging his legs closer to himself. He stared ahead at his empty wall, feeling empty himself. He felt hollow inside, like he had received a Dementor's Kiss. A part of him wished he had. Because what was the point in living now? What does it matter that Voldemort is gone? What does it matter that they were safe? What does any of it matter, if he's left alone, broken than ever?

Why? That was the only thought that screamed in his head, threatening to drive him insane. Why? Why had Sirius done it? Why? He was James' brother. He was Harry's Godfather. He was their friend. He was Peter's friend. And he was his friend. What happened? The Sirius he knew would never have done it. The Sirius he knew would've died rather than betray his friends. The Sirius he knew was not like the other members of the Noble House of Black. He was different. He really was.

So why? Was he a really good actor then? But how could he have faked the beautiful friendship they had shared for so many years? No. Nobody can be that good of an actor. Then what suddenly happened to change his mind to betray James and Lily, who he considered to be his family; to betray Peter; to betray him? Tears were forming in his eyes, trying their hard to break him further. Doesn't that what tears do? Break people? Or were they just trying to make him feel better? He didn't know. He was tired of trying to understand.

James and Lily were dead. Harry is all alone. Peter was dead. And Sirius…. Sirius had betrayed all of them, and now he was in Azkaban. He didn't want to cry for Sirius. No. He would not. But his tears had other plans for him. They fell down, streaming along his cheeks. He screamed as he pounded the floor. The pain was too much. He let go of trying to be brave; trying to be a Gryffindor. He broke down and cried for James, for Lily, for Peter, for himself, and no matter how much he didn't want to, he cried for Sirius as well. He cried for the fallen Marauders, all the time wishing he would turn in to the wolf and hurt himself, so that his body would understand why he was in so much pain.

All around him was the violent sea, thrusting itself upon the island, as if it knew who resided there and wanted to punish them further. The air was icy cold, but Sirius knew that it wasn't because of the angry sea. From between the bars of his cell, Sirius saw the Dementors gliding up and down, sucking what little hope and happiness that remained from the prisoners. But Sirius had no happiness or hope left in him. He was just a body sitting in a cell in Azkaban. He didn't care about his soul. He didn't care what happened to him now. Everything was over. It had all come down drowning everyone he loved as it crumpled. And it was all his fault!

He was the reason that his brother was dead. He was the reason that his sister was dead. He was the reason his Godson was all alone. He was the reason his friend was left all alone without any explanation. He was the reason that the bastard who they thought was a friend had got away. No one would know the truth now. But it didn't really matter to him now. Because it was all his fault, and so he deserved this.

Why hadn't he just stayed as the Secret Keeper? None of this would have happened if it wasn't for that one decision he made. He wished he had a Time Turner so he could go back in time and change everything. He would give anything to change what he had done. He knew he couldn't. The damage was done. James and Lily were dead because of him. Harry had become an orphan because of him. Remus, poor Remus, was left all alone because of him. He deserved to rot in this cell. He was sure of it. He waited for the tears to come. He waited and waited, but they never came. Weren't tears supposed to make one feel better? Weren't tears supposed to act in a way to reduce the pain he felt which was similar to being tortured with the Cruciatus Curse? But the tears never came. Maybe not even his own body wanted him to feel better, because it was all his fault and he deserved all this pain. He accepted the pain hoping against hope that maybe the pain alone would be enough to kill him. Or maybe he didn't deserve the luxury of dying either.

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! Please review!