A/N: This fic took... too many years to write. But we did it! Hooray! To celebrate, here is perhaps the saddest chapter of any fic we've ever written. Enjoy...

Chapter 21 - The Boy Who Lived

31st October 1981

Bread: check. Beans: check. Soup: check. Some beer for good measure – also check.

Sirius stood in front of the row of cereals in the muggle store. His basket was heavy and laden with the variety of food he thought would keep Peter going for the next week in hiding. But what cereal would he want? There were little o's flavoured with honey, boring looking cornflakes with next to no sugar in them, chocolate spheres that would turn the milk brown. Which would Peter prefer?

It didn't matter, not really. Sirius knew that, but in the moment it seemed important. Peter had been extremely distant since Sirius helped him move out of his flat. Maybe the cereal would cheer him up. Maybe he'd spent the past ten minutes standing, unmoving, in front of a box of cheerios because it was the most normal he'd felt in weeks.

A woman with a small baby approached, stuffing porridge into her already full cart. "Are you alright, dear?" she asked kindly.

Sirius smiled and nodded. Pluming for the cheerios, he walked away, trying not to think about how her dark hair and the creases around her lips when she smiled reminded him of Mrs. Potter.

Now wasn't the time for sentimentality.

When he reached Peter's house, he knocked at the door once, then twice, then three times.

No answer.

"Wormtail? Mate?"

Panic was starting to hit him, and he dropped the shopping bags in favour of searching in his wallet for the spare key he had to the house.

He let himself in to be met with, surprisingly, complete normality. There were no signs of a struggle, no knocked over portraits, no marks on the walls where a rogue spell might have missed its mark.

"Pete?" he called once more, not expecting a response. It was obvious the house was empty, and he wasn't surprised when he checked the bedroom to find undisturbed sheets. Peter hadn't slept here last night. It had been a week since Sirius last saw him – he could have been gone for longer.

A cold chill settled over Sirius. His mind was racing, but he was calm when he pointed his wand at the ground in front of him, summoning a flicker of a large black dog – a patronus he instructed to seek out Dumbledore.

None of this was right, Sirius knew.

Something terrible was happening.

His hands were shaking when he got back onto his motorbike, and it took him two attempts to start the engine.

It would be quicker to apparate, he knew, but he couldn't get right to the door, and it wasn't far. The last thing he wanted was to apparate straight into a trap. He saw death eaters descending on the little cottage in his mind's eye and tried to shake the vision. Peter could be strong; he'd never willingly give up their secret. And they would find him, but first - first he needed to warn James.

It was Halloween, and Godric's Hollow had come alive with children laughing and calling "trick or treat!" at the tops of their voices. James and Lily had been watching out of their window for most of the evening, holding onto Harry in his blue pyjamas to steady him where he stood on the windowsill.

"What's that, little guy?" James cooed, pointing towards a child in a star-patterned cloak and tall hat. "Do you see that wizard?"

"He's not like any wizard I've ever seen," Lily laughed. "Except Dumbledore, maybe."

"Oh, I can definitely see him wearing that cloak."

"There are witches, too." Lily pointed towards a pair of little girls in pointed hats and black dresses; one of them clutching a toy cat under her arm. That part, at least, was accurate. Their cat, Peanut, was asleep on the back of the armchair, stretched out with his chin on his paws. "Petunia and I always used to dress up as witches on Halloween – did I ever tell you that? It was before I found out I was a real witch, obviously."

"I can just imagine you in one of those costumes. Though I seem to remember one or two slightly more provocative outfits that you wore at school."

"Of course you remember those," Lily laughed. She stretched, her shoulders sore from leaning towards the window for so long. "It's getting dark out. I'm going to make a cup of tea. You want one?"

"Please." James scooped Harry up into his arms and flopped down onto the sofa with him, not bothering to draw the curtains. Into Harry's ear, he said, "When all this is over, we'll go trick or treating together. What should we dress you up as for your first proper Halloween, eh? A monster, maybe? Or a ghost?"

Harry babbled something in response that sounded like "gose", and James grinned. "That settles it, then."

"I count myself lucky that we're stuck here for Halloween," Lily said, coming back into the room with a pair of mugs. "I've not forgotten the pranks the four of you used to pull every year. Do you remember the vampire costumes you all showed up to class wearing in sixth year?"

"I think you'll find I looked stunning in a cape and vampire teeth."

Lily rolled her eyes. "You just keep telling yourself that."

They curled up on the sofa together with Harry on James' lap, each holding a mug of tea that warmed them on the chilly October night.

"Do you think we'll still be here this time next year?" Lily asked softly. "I can't imagine Harry growing up here, you know? He should be able to go out and play, make friends with other children, go on trips with us."

"We just have to trust the Order," James said, relentlessly optimistic to the last. "They'll find a way to stop him, whatever it takes. I wish I was out there fighting, but… I'm glad we have this. As long as we have each other and Harry, we're okay."

"I suppose you're right." Lily leant against his shoulder and James planted a soft kiss on the top of her head. "We just have to keep hoping."

Harry started wriggling in James's arms; he was at the age where he wanted nothing more than to stumble around, grabbing everything within reach and stuffing most of it into his mouth.

"I'll get his bottle," Lily said. "He's probably hungry."

She took their empty mugs through to the kitchen, humming as she prepared a bottle of milk for their son.

James put Harry down on the floor and got up to pick up his wand where it lay on the coffee table. He waved it in front of him, conjuring little puffs of coloured smoke. As each one floated past, Harry reached out for it, trying to catch the smoke in his little fingers.

"I love you to pieces," he murmured under his breath, ruffling Harry's little curls of hair that already stuck up in every direction like his own hair did. "You know that, don't you?"

"Of course he knows, you sap," Lily said, reappearing with a bottle in her hand. James picked Harry up off the floor and handed him to her so she could start feeding him. "You know we love you, don't you baby?"

James threw his wand down on the sofa as the last puff of smoke faded out of sight. Peanut startled suddenly, his ears pricking back before he leapt off the armchair and darted out of the room.

"Wonder what's up with him," James mused, just as a bang like a gun shot rattled through the house.

There was no time to think. James knew in his bones that this was it, in the same way he had known when his parents grew ill that they weren't going to make it, in the same way he had known when Benjy and Caradoc disappeared that they weren't coming back.

"James," Lily said, clutching Harry closer to her. She didn't say it like a question, or like a statement. She said it like she needed to say his name one more time.

He ran out into the hall, and there he was, with his dark robes hanging to the floor and his wand raised in his hand. James' wand was still on the sofa, out of reach.

"Lily, take Harry and go!" he called. "It's him! Go! Run! I'll hold him off –"

James didn't look death in the face as it came for him, as Voldemort laughed a high, cold laugh. He looked at Lily, running for the stairs with Harry in her arms, her long red hair falling over her face. His final thought was a goodbye to the woman he had loved since he'd met her a decade ago, and the child that he loved more than the whole world.

There was a flash of green light, and James fell.

The air above Godric's Hollow was still. Below him, blurs of children crowded the streets, their parents weighed down with bags of sweets and chocolate. Sirius could see the house in the distance, approaching fast as he pressed as hard as he could on the gas.

The first thing he noticed, before landing, was the wall on the second floor. It had been blown out from the inside and rubble now littered the street outside the house.

Sirius' mind was numb. He stumbled off the motorbike. Was that the side of the house where Harry slept?

Why was the front door open?

He didn't want to look. Didn't want to push through that door, but his feet were carrying him forward. They could have gotten away, he told himself. They could have taken Harry. They could be drinking tea by the fire in Dumbledore's office right now.

It had grown dark, and Sirius' wand lit without him even having to think of the spell.

There was something behind the door making it difficult to open properly, but Sirius pushed his way through, holding the light out in front of him.

"James?" he called.

"James."

He dropped his wand and the light went out, but he'd already seen it. Already wanted to run, and run and run because this couldn't be real, couldn't be happening. They'd been so careful, they'd taken every precaution –

"James!" Sirius dropped to his knees, shaking his shoulders desperately, "come on mate, it's me. Wake up, come on James."

He didn't move, and Sirius knew, though he didn't want to believe it, that he wasn't going to.

"This can't be happening," he said to himself, unable to look away from James' lifeless face. "We're a team, yeah?" He put his hand on James' unmoving chest. "This can't be happening."

He fell back on his heels, trying to swallow the sobs that choked him. "It's going to be okay," he told James hollowly. "Right. Okay."

He rose shakily, more alert despite the pounding in his ears. There was still a chance that Lily – that Harry…

He climbed the stairs, deafening silence following him with every step.

Then he heard it. The gurgled cries of a baby, here and alive and needing him.

Sirius broke into a run, clearing the rest of the stairs and rushing down the hallway. Harry's door was open, and he could feel the cold air from the destroyed wall prickling his damp cheeks.

"Harry," Sirius said, relief filling his chest, before he stepped into the room and stopped abruptly.

"Lily – no, no."

He couldn't look at her, lying by the cot with unseeing eyes staring up towards her son. He felt sick again, but Harry was still crying quietly: he couldn't break down now.

"Pafoot?"

Sirius scooped his godson out of the cot, holding him against his chest so that he couldn't see the destruction around him.

"It's going to be alright," Sirius told him through his tears. "I've got you; I've got you."

He walked back through the house mechanically, closing his eyes as he walked down the stairs, unwilling to glance back towards the front door.

He took Harry out the back, whispering soothingly as he went. He didn't know what he was saying, but the cold air cleared his mind slightly, and he realised with a new wave of dread that he needed to get Harry away from here.

They could come back.

He hurried around the side of the house, but someone was already here, stooping down to inspect his bike.

He stopped, instinctively taking out his wand, he fired a stunning spell at the looming figure in front of him.

"Woah there, it's just me, I aint meaning yer no harm."

"Hagrid?"

"That's right. 'Av yer got young Harry there? Can I see 'im?"

Sirius tucked Harry against his chest protectively.

"'right then, it's just Dumbledore sent me. 'E got yer message. Are James an' Lily –"

"Dead." Sirius said, the word tasting like ash in his mouth. "I was too late."

Hagrid shook his head, obviously distressed by the news, and Sirius relaxed a little. If he knew about his message to Dumbledore, Hagrid really must be here to help.

"I have to get out of here," Sirius told him. "Harry's not safe."

"Let me take him," Hagrid said. "Dumbledore knows somewhere e'll be safe."

"He'll be safe with me," Sirius argued. He had to take care of Harry now. He was his godfather after all - he was family.

"I don't doubt it," Hagrid told him, "but fer tonight Dumbledore said 'e know's somewhere wi' powerful magic, he won't be found. He said 'e promises that."

"What place?" Sirius asked, he needed to get moving, but his head was clouded. If Dumbledore really knew somewhere safe… As much as he wanted to believe Harry would be better off with him, he had to admit that, were Death Eaters to come calling, he wouldn't stand much chance against them in this state.

"It's definitely safe?" he asked.

"'And on me heart."

"Okay," Sirius said, "okay."

He looked down at Harry. The last thing he wanted to do was to hand him off, but it would be for the best. And Sirius could see him tomorrow, when they could work out what to do, when this was over, and he would have to face the world without James and Lily.

"I'll see you soon little man," he assured Harry, who made a strained gurgling sound back at him. "Go with Hagrid now, okay, he'll look after you."

He handed the baby to Hagrid, who took him gently and rested him against the crook of his elbow.

He nodded gratefully. "I'll send Dumbledore an owl saying 'av got 'im. I'll take good care o' 'im."

"Take my bike," Sirius insisted, giving the keys to Hagrid. "Keep him safe."

He watched as Hagrid awkwardly clambered onto the bike with Harry, then watched as he flew into the darkness, taking Sirius' godson with him.

The night was heavy, and Sirius couldn't stand to be in Godric's Hollow any longer. With a final look at the house, at the place where his friends had lived, and his godson had taken his first steps, he prepared to leave it behind him.

With the fidelius charm no longer in effect, he apparated directly from Godric's Hollow, landing clumsily on his own doorstep. He pushed into the house, exhaustion taking hold of him the minute the warm air hit him.

"Remus?" he called, but for the third time that night, he was met with silence.

"Moony? Merlin, I need–"

There was a cup on the kitchen table, warm tea still steaming. Wherever Remus was, they'd just missed each other.

He wondered in a detached sense if Remus knew. If anyone other than he and Hagrid knew that James and Lily lay dead in a house that was supposed to keep them safe.

He looked around the flat desperately. What was he supposed to do when in the last hour his whole world had fractured apart?

He took in their apartment, infuriating normal after the rubble and death he had just walked through. Did they even need all this rubbish? Why did they have so many jumpers?

His gaze settled on one in particular - a threadbare green pullover that had been left there weeks ago and never returned.

It was Peter's jumper.

Sirius grabbed it from the corner of the sofa, holding it aloft in the dim light.

Peter could still be out there somewhere, needing Sirius' help. Unless – he didn't want to even consider it, but the thought lodged itself in his mind and wouldn't go away. What if Peter hadn't been forced to break the fidelius charm? They all knew there was a traitor within the Order.

What if…?

Remus didn't know anything was wrong until it was already too late. He was too late to save James and Lily, too late to save Peter, too late to stop Sirius.

He stood in his flat and stared at the letter in his hand, feeling numb. He had thought that he had been tired before, on nights after the full moon or on days spent working with the werewolves on Dumbledore's orders. This was a different sort of tiredness, bone-deep and so heavy that it crushed him. Nothing else had hit him yet, just this weariness in his soul that would never quite leave him again.

Remus,

I hate to have to tell you this, but you need to hear it, and I wanted to be the one to tell you. Despite all our precautions, Voldemort found Lily and James. I'm sorry to tell you that neither of them survived.

Harry, however, is alive. It's unclear how, but he survived Voldemort's attack. I've sent Hagrid to take him to his aunt and uncle, Petunia and Vernon Dursley. He will be safe there.

None of this can be easy for you to hear. I'm sorry for your losses. Just know that James and Lily's sacrifice saved not only their son, but the entire wizarding world.

Albus Dumbledore

After he'd read the letter the first time, Remus had walked across the room in a daze and turned on the radio. That's where he had heard the rest of the story: how Sirius had tracked down Peter and killed him along with twelve muggles; how the ministry had arrested Sirius and taken him to Azkaban; how Voldemort was gone, defeated by little Harry Potter.

They were calling him the Boy Who Lived.

Remus could only think about all the people who hadn't been so lucky.

One thought kept spinning around in his mind, the only one of the terrible truths he had learnt that he couldn't quite believe. He had been bracing himself for the people he cared about to die. He had known that there was a traitor, that someone he cared about had betrayed them. And yet Remus could not quite believe that Sirius, his Sirius, had betrayed Lily and James.

There was a dull bang outside, and Remus crossed to the window, staring blankly out of it. He could hear cheers in the distance, the sounds of wizards celebrating the end of the war, as though they didn't care about the terrible price they'd had to pay for Voldemort's defeat.

As Remus crumpled the letter in his hand and his first tears began to fall, the sky lit up with fireworks.