We have calcium in our bones, iron in our veins, carbon in our souls, and nitrogen in our brains. 93 percent stardust, with souls made of flames, we are all just stars that have people names.

-Nikita Gills

The day after the Halloween of 1981 should have been the happiest day in Phoebe Caldwell's life. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was dead, Harry Potter had lived, and Aurors and members of the Order of the Phoenix alike were tracking down the members of his inner circle. But Phoebe would always remember it as the day she became a single mother.

It started at three in the morning on November 1st. Phoebe started awake to empty cold sheets beside her.

"No," she whispered, grabbing her wand from under her pillow. "Lumos!"

The tip of her wand lit up, and she twirled it, charging before jabbing her wand towards the lamp. The light flew into the lamp, revealing a scrap of parchment at the bedside table.

She picked it up and squinted at the hasty scrawl. "Dammit, Sirius, this is not the time for me to be struggling to figure out what the hell you just wrote!"

After a moment, the scribbles became clear:

J and L in trouble. Something happened to Wormy— I can feel it. Be back soon. -S

"No," she muttered again. "No."

She got to her feet, and threw a set of robes on over her head before pulling her long brown hair into an attempt at a ponytail. She threw on her boots, and Disapparated right into a flat she knew well.

It wasn't good etiquette, but she didn't particularly care for that at the moment. She stood right at the foot of a bed with only a woman lying in it. With a wave of her wand the lights were on.

"EMMALINE!"

The young witch shot up, pulling her green dressing gown closer to her for warmth.

"What on Earth— Phoebe it's—"

"Listen." Phoebe sat next to Emmaline, and grabbed her wrists. "Listen to me! Sirius is in trouble— something about James and Lily and Peter— I need you to watch the girls, just until I can get back."

"Got it," Emmaline said. "Do you want me to raise the alarm to the Order?"

"No, I think we've been compromised, and I don't want everyone showing up at—"

She couldn't say it— Emmaline didn't know the secret.

Still, Emmaline nodded, and got out of bed, taking her wand out of a stately case. "I'll watch your little girls, as long as you promise to try and come home to them."

"Always," Phoebe promised.

Emmaline nodded and Disapparated, just as Phoebe did.

"No," Phoebe murmured. She charged towards the ruins of the Potter house, and stopped just where their front porch used to be. Her hands dropped to her knees. "No, no, this has to be a dream. . . No. . . "

She then heard the gentle meow of a cat, and looked wildly around. "Nightshade?"

The black Potter cat emerged onto what was left of the front steps to the door. "Hey, girl."

Phoebe reached out and stroked the cat. "We'll take you home, but where—"

She saw a figure move in the darkness. Without hesitation, she got to her feet, and drew her wand.

"Lumos maxima!" She illuminated the darkness just as the figure approached. Her shoulders dropped, and she lowered her wand. "Sirius, you gave me such a fright!"

Then she tilted her head ever-so-slightly to the right. "What's wrong, Snuffles?"

Not even the silly— stupid, if Phoebe was being honest— nickname brought a smile to Sirius's face. There were circles beneath his eyes, and he looked so. . .tired.

"What happened— is Harry—"

"Harry's fine," Sirius said. "He lived, somehow he lived."

"Then what—"

"Voldemort came," Sirius said. "He came and he killed James, and Lily— but he's gone! He's gone!"

He started sobbing, shoulders shaking. Phoebe shoved her wand in her pocket and embraced him, her own tears mixing with his. They cried for all the good who died— for Dorcas, for the Prewett twins, for the McKinnons and the Boneses.

Then, with almost mechanical movements, Sirius gently pushed her away.

"What happened to Wormtail?" Phoebe asked.

"I don't know, his hideout was empty," Sirius said. "Hagrid took Harry— somehow Dumbledore knew— I couldn't get him to see sense. He took the motorcycle, too. I won't be needing it anymore."

Phoebe's gaze darkened. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You need to let the Ministry and the Order know what happened," Sirius said. "They need to know that Voldemort was defeated. Are the girls safe?"

"Emmaline's got them," Phoebe said. "But what do you mean, you won't need it anymore— Sirius, what happened—"

"I love you, darling." He kissed her, right before Disapparating.

"Sirius Orion Black!" Phoebe screamed his name to the night in frustration. She dropped to her knees, sobbing again, in frustration and grief.

"Mrrow?"

Nightshade rubbed against her. Phoebe sighed and scratched the cat's ears.

"Guess I need to be the adult here, don't I?"

The cat said nothing, only offering luminous yellow-green eyes to decipher as Phoebe wished.

She stood and raised her wand. "Expecto Patronum."

A shaggy large dog appeared at the end of her wand. She reached her wand to her lips, and the dog began speaking in sync with her.

"James and Lily Potter are dead, and Dumbledore has Harry Potter. He's survived, and He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is gone," Phoebe said. She removed her wand from her lips. "Get off to the Ministry with you, then."

The dog did so, and then Phoebe lifted up Nightshade. "Let's get you home, and then we'll have a chat with Dumbledore."

With that, she Disapparated.

It was eight in the morning. Dumbledore hadn't responded to any of her messages via Patronus about Sirius doing something reckless. Should she have spoken about the change in Secret-Keepers?

To be honest, with the last bit about Dumbledore somehow knowing that James and Lily were dead, it made Phoebe realize she couldn't tell him about the switch. Something suspicious had happened there— she was certain.

And there were all sorts of secrets about Sirius, secrets she would never begin to tell anyone.

But she and Emmaline sat there, Nightshade resting on a seat between them as they boiled far too many pots of tea.

With a crack, Alice Longbottom appeared in their home, her face stricken.

"You need to come, right away— it's Peter and Sirius."

Without another word, Phoebe grabbed Alice's hand, and Side-Along Apparated. She wanted to vomit when she arrived in the middle of the busy London street, but not just because of the sight in front of them. Several muggles around as Peter and Sirius were shouting in the middle of the busy street.

"James and Lily, Sirius, how could you?!" Peter screamed, tears streaking his face.

"WAIT!" Phoebe screamed.

Sirius hesitated— that was all it took as he kept his wand aloft. His lips were moving, and he seemed confused, right as Peter cast a curse— one that Phoebe couldn't hear.

Sirius jabbed his wand, but looked surprised as a curse fell back on Peter— and twelve muggles. Phoebe fell to ground from the force of impact. When she got up, there were only bits of people left.

And Sirius was laughing. Laughing hysterically, like a man who had lost everything.

She ran to him— but was too late. Aurors and Hit-Wizards descended upon him, leaving her no room to protest, to tell them the truth. He couldn't do this to her— he couldn't leave her to raise their three daughters— he couldn't he couldn't—

But it was too late. And she knew that during the war, there were no trials. It was Azkaban for Sirius, with no hope of release. She dropped to her knees for the third time and sobbed again, no one stopping to comfort her.