DISCLAIMER : I wish I owned Harry Potter. And others. Read: I wish.

WARNING : character death.

Bloody Sunday
Chapter Three

Petunia carefully stirred, watching with critical eyes the way her soup was just a tad too thick. Pulling a spoon from a cupboard, she dipped it in and brought it to her lips. A pink tongue slowly darted out to taste it. She nodded approvingly to herself, setting the spoon aside to continue stirring. On the counter next to her, soft rythmic breathing reached her straining ears from the baby monitor, indicating the children's peaceful slumber. With a sigh, she covered the pot, and began chopping the vegetables she had set aside to begin on the main dish. Outside her window, she gazed with weariness at the darkening sky, and went back to her cooking. Vernon, workaholic that he was, had decided to spend an extra hour at work to earn just enough for the newest addition to their little family. To her surprise, it hadn't taken much to persuade the man to take Harry in. What a generous man, her husband, she thought lovingly.

The boy, sweet child that he was, had gotten along splendidly with her Dudley, and with a fond smile, related to Vernon on how their son would not grow up so lonely after all. He was quiet, with bright green eyes, and about as normal as any other new born child, as far as children went being born from those kind of people. Petunia shuddered for Harry, wrinkling her nose in disgust. The sudden thought of Lily and her kind sent her reeling into a fit of such boiling rage that she almost choked on the pure nausea it created within her. Taking a deep breath, she released her grip on the kitchen knife, lest she stabbed herself in a fit of hysterical anger, and calmed her furious nerves.

She jerked at a sudden hiccough from the baby monitor, turning quickly to turn off the stove, before leaving to check on the babies.

Entering the nursery, she looked curiously at the frowning Harry, who brightened at the sight of her. She returned the smile, noticing the way a sleeping Dudley nudged Harry's side with a wet thumb. Scooping Harry up, she carried him down the stairs to the kitchen, leaving Dudley behind to rest. She placed him on a baby cradle, cooing.

"Are you hungry, dear one?" she said, "Auntie's making supper."

The baby gurgled, delighted to be spoken to. With a soft chuckle, she turned to resume her chopping. Harry babbled on incoherently, filling the once silent kitchen with his gleeful chatter. He would put in the occasional grunt, or shout, in response to her baby-talk. After five minutes, Petunia's straining ears could only make out the high pitched laughter. Assuming Harry was falling asleep, she let it slide. Another few minutes, and the growing uneasiness at the now silent boy hadn't yet subsided. Gripping the kitchen knife tightly, she paused, turning to see Harry's blank face. Tensing, she walked slowly over, waiting for the child to notice her presence. The seconds ticked, and nothing. Instead, he continued looking at something past her, over her shoulder. She flinched violently at the sudden screech from the child, hands flailing dangerous.

She breathed heavily, waiting for the magic to come and attack her.

She had never truly believed the boy to be born without the curse, and though she had taken him in, she was still fearful, and weary of his power. She had thought maybe she could beat it out of him. He had been normal, until now, and this strange behaviour wasn't helping her calm down. Harry still refused to acknowledge her. Shoulders stiff, just as Petunia made to turn and go back to the vegetables, a loud blast echoed through the back door.

"Get away from my godson!"

Petunia screamed.

When everything was packed and ready, the sun had already begun to set, making the house seem even darker then it originally was. Many of the paintings were veiled, as were most of the furniture, and though the rooms were cleaner then they had been in years, they were empty. Most of the house had been repainted, re-warded and polished. At the foot of the stairs there were three large trunks, and behind Kreacher, there was another one trailing him as he descended the stairs.

"Filthy blood traitors infecting Mistress' home... " he mumbled to himself.

Rolling his eyes, Sirius chucked his half-eaten apple at the creature's head. "Oh, shut it, would you? I'm leaving already, so go fuck off in a corner where I can't see you."

His ears flattened against his head as he bowed in submission, placing the floating trunk with the others. With a pop, he disappeared.

Sirius sighed and waved his wand, "Reducio."

His luggage shrunk to the size of a card's deck and he put it in the pockets of his robes with an unconscious pat. Taking a last glance around the place he had grown up in, he wondered what else he needed to do before he left. He cringed slightly at the memory of James' betrayed face, gazing at him with accusing eyes. He couldn't help but scoff, though the guilt he felt still overrid his annoyance: he was not the one at fault. Shortly after James had left, Remus had come to try and convince him not to leave, and had left himself, unsucessful. Peter, loudmouthed idiot that he was, had somehow gotten wind of the news from the werewolf, and had proceeded to spread the news like wildfire. With a nasty grin, Sirius decided the man was in need of a little pranking.

But the smile soon died on his lips upon realizing he wouldn't be able to do so all the way from France.

Well, unless..

His mind wandered aimlessly as he went to the fireplace, making sure the floo connections had been properly cut off. He had been much surprised to see James slightly smudged with soot in his living area earlier that day. Seeing that it was disconnected, he moved to the large portrait in the wall opposite the staircase he had been standing in mere moments prior. The painting was heavily warded, almost seeming to seethe with a dark purple glow. The veil, a worn drabby color that Sirius suspected once had been velvety, was shut tightly. Despite this, he could easily hear the soft snores beneath. He wondered briefly whether or not to announce his leave.

Deciding better then to get into a screaming match with his deceased mother, he made for the front door. He yanked it open roughly, looking back a last time, and closed the door behind him when the lights automatically closed. Nodding, he placed his key inside the hole, and locked the house. He walked a couple of steps away from the front, and as he turned, he saw the building flit briefly, before reshaping and disappearing completely.

Satisfied, Sirius tucked the key into his pocket, and turned.

He had one more stop before he left for France.

Sirius appeared in a secluded corner of the park near the house, and looking around, he couldn't help but grimace. Everything, for as far as his eyes could see, was exactly the same. The houses, the structure, and from what he could see, even the doorknobs were made of the same material, in the same size and color. As he began his trek, he noted that the only distinguishing features any of the houses had were the metal monstrosity for transport that muggles called cars in front, as well the bolded letters above the top right corner of the front door. He scanned the neighborhood quickly, and, finding his location, trekked through the grass to blatantly look through the window. It was dark enough outside that no one would see him unless they really looked, but in a neighborhood like this, he doubted anyone would notice him in his black robes.

Everything, from what he could see into the room, was so squeaky clean, he assumed even a house elf would be jealous. But then, as he remembered Petunia's smoldering attitude at the muggle wedding a couple of years ago, he realized it was really no surprise. Finding no one in there, he moved from window to window, hoping to see a familiar tuft of dark hair. Finally moving to the back, he peeked in and with a small click of his tongue in triumph, he watched his godson. The boy looked to be babbling happily away with the occasional bubbling laughter as Petunia turned to grace him with a fond smile. She moved over to blow him a kiss before returning to her task. Behind her, Harry crooned.

With a sinking heart, he realized James was right.

Harry would be happy here, given the chance. And with a sigh, he glanced at the time on his silver pocket watch. He had another hour before he had to leave. Deciding to spend the time getting acquainted with his godson, he settled back. Petunia had her back to the child, and he couldn't exactly see what she was doing. Shrugging, he watched the bright green eyes stare at the ceiling in wonder, before swiveling to look him dead in the eye. He gasped, and blinking, he waved hesitantly. Harry clapped delightedly.

Chuckling slightly, he continued making faces to the boy, who watched him in interest. It was only when Petunia tensed and turned did he feel his heart stop.

A knife gripped tightly in hand, she walked over to Harry, lips pursed tightly. She watched him for a moment, an intense look of blankness on her face, and Sirius himself gripped his wand tightly. Suddenly, her arms flailed. Sirius's heart clenched, and he knew he had been right about the Potter's choice in leaving him here.

Sirius had never wished to be wrong so much in his life before.

The knife descended painfully close to his godson, and not wasting anymore time, he charged for the door in a panic. He blasted it open without another thought, and ran through, his blue eyes narrowing at the sight of the knife in Petunia's hand.

"Get away from my godson!"

Petunia screamed, aiming the knife at him, and moving to stand between him and cradle. She was pale, looking terrified, and with a sneer, Sirius hoped she really was.

"Step away, Petunia," he hissed.

"W-who are you?!" she shrieked, waving the knife around, "Get out of my house!"

"Get away from Harry!" he repeated.

She froze, and tensed again, teeth grinding. "YOU!" she yelled in recognition, but unfortunately, the fear was replaced by a deep seething hatred. "Get out! Get out of my house, or so help me I'll---I'll--"

Seeing the knife waving around dangerously, he panicked and jabbed his wand in her direction, watching anxiously as she slid away from Harry. She crashed into the counter near the stove, many things tipping over and the knife flying from her hand. Sirius made to step towards his godson, but in a sudden whirlwind of blond and pink, the air was knocked from him when he was tackled around the middle. He berated himself for thinking for a moment he was safe in the presence of a muggle as he went crashing through the glass window of a wooden door, tumbling loudly into the living area he had investigated moments prior. He fell heavily on the carpeted floor and groaned, feeling the stab of wood and glass on his back. He stood drowsily, Petunia's frail form panting from the broken doorway. He aimed his wand.

Her eyes widened as she was shoved backwards with an invisible force. She screamed in pain as she went into the stove, the pot she had been heating spilling all over her left arm. She turned desperately, seeing the dark man weaving through the mess to step closer to Harry once more. Petunia didn't know what he wanted but whatever it had to do with the boy, she wasn't letting him get it. Pushing herself up with much effort, she chucked the half-empty pot at him, relishing in the howl he gave as it hit his shoulder with a loud thud. He fell to his knees, and rushing, she ran to grab the cradle. Right before reaching Harry, the back of her shirt was grabbed, and with a gasp, she was pulled back roughly and her back hit the floor with a solid smack.

She moaned in pain, rolling slightly, but determined to save the baby. Sirius, who lay panting above Harry, grunted as Petunia launched herself onto his back, bony hands pulling wickedly at the long strands, and sharp nails leaving bloody marks on his neck. He spun quickly, warms waving frantically trying to get her off. Things exploded around them, the result of Sirius' panicked wand waving. Losing his footing, Sirius fell heavily on the floor as he slipped on the spilled soup, taking Petunia down with him. They paused briefly, disoriented.

"Crazy bitch," Sirius spat, panting heavily on the floor.

"Look who's talking," she sneered.

Faintly, they recognized the familiar scent of a fire, and turning, they paled at the sight behind them. The rag that had been hazardously thrown onto the stove had burned, and a bottle of vegetable oil had been tipped when Petunia had crashed into the counter. They watched in horror as the flaming rag flicked once, twice, and then caught the oil. The once tiny fire roared down the counter, its flames reaching up to the ceiling, and down the counter.

As one, both Sirius and Petunia backed away with an arm covering their heads. Momentarily distracted, Petunia took the chance to escape. She pushed herself up in a dead run towards the wailing Harry, who was dangerously near the fire. She'd rather die then let the boy she had promised to care for be harmed. Sirius gaped, before snapping to attention.

Lifting his wand, he screamed, "Stupefy!"

He watched emotionlessly as she dropped to the ground, and standing, he winced. The fire had spread quickly throughout the kitchen, and had traveled onto the floor where the oil had spilled. He gasped as the fire licked at his black robes, and looking up, he felt the blood drain from his face at the sight of Harry crying on the burning table.

Thinking quickly, he gripped his wand and pointed it directly at Harry.

"Aguamenti!"

A long spurt of water ran from his wand, effectively dousing the still distressed baby. Hastily dousing himself as well, he ran to grab for his godson. He coughed as the smoke filled his lungs, and without a second thought, he apparated them both out of the house.

Panting heavily, he checked the shivering infant for injuries, only seeing slight burning from the boy. He waved his wand and conjured a thick blanket, relieving him of his wet clothing, and wrapped the cot around the whimpering baby. He swayed them gently, trying to calm the frightened child.

"It's alright, Harry," he said softly, "Paddy's here."

A sudden wailing caught his attention and turning, he watched in triumph, and no little guilt, as people began to filter onto the street to watch the house he had been in just a moment before, burning into a crisp. In front, there were red and yellow trucks with people heavily clothed moving about. Water began spurting from what seemed to be a long round tube to douse the fire, but from what Sirius could tell, it was in vain.

Suddenly, a car screeched to a halt, and a beefy man with no neck ambled out, face pale.

"Dursley," he acknowledged with a hiss. Harry whimpered in his arms, and he cooed softly, hoping to calm him.

He looked up as there was an explosion, followed by shouting. It looked like part of the house had fallen apart. He watched with a wince as Vernon shoved the muggles off of him, and ran for the burning house in despair. The sudden realization that he had left Petunia inside washed over him with the force of a tsunami.

"No, gerroff! I--I have to.. --" Dursley was screaming hysterically, "Petunia! Dudley! My family's in --"

"Mr. Dursley! You can't!"

Hands attempted to grab him, but in a surprising display of strenght, he shoved himself past the crowd and ran for the door. Just as he disappeared into the house, the wailing sound of another baby in the fire reached his ears, silenced by the roof of the building collapsing. There was a moment as the fire roared an ugly orange-red, and then it was silent. No wailing, no screaming, no nasty muggles trying to harm his godson, just the quiet knowledge that he had killed an entire family unintentionally, echoing in his mind.

They were going to hurt Harry, he reasoned, Petunia was going to kill him with a kitchen knife.

Shakily, he turned and apparated away.

Sirius paced agitatedly in a dark alleyway across the street from a certain phone booth.

His portkey, his magical way of transport to France, was due to leave in less then ten minutes. Still, Sirius was undecided on his course of action. In his arms, Harry was sleeping peacefully, undisturbed with the troubled wizard's movements. He had dried himself as well as his robes, and though his body ached, he had wrapped a thin scarf around his neck to hide the wounds inflicted by Petunia. Hair slightly matted, he had hastily combed through with a rough hand. All in all, he supposed he looked presentable enough not to arouse suspicion, despite wearing a scarf in the mid-september heat. Then again, he could always say he had a cold. He coughed experimentally.

Hmm.

Suddenly, Sirius groaned, rubbing his forehead with a free hand. If he didn't leave now, he'd have to order another portkey, which could take months at time, and was painfully expensive. He had the money to pay for it, yes, but he wanted to leave, and it had to be now. He may never get the chance again, not with Scrimgeour practically begging him to take back the resignation note he'd sent. He was a damn good Auror, after all. And if it were up to him, he would have left earlier then planned, but as life would have it, Sirius didn't know how to create portkeys, let alone ones made to travel in long lenght. He sighed.

The problem was not leaving.

The problem was leaving with Harry.

He could already be considered a kidnapper, as well as a murderer--he winced internally--for what he had done tonight. With a sigh, he held Harry closer to him, and breathed in his soft scent.

"Oh, Harry, what am I going to do?" he said tiredly.

The child snored in response.

With another sigh, he decided there was no use; he was going to have to take Harry with him.

Besides, he reasoned, bitterly, it's not like anyone wants him here, anyways.

Glancing at his pocket watch, he noticed how little time left he had. Nodding to himself reassuringly, he crossed the street.

The next day, word of the Dursleys' unexpected death sent the Potters reeling into each other, and remorseful, went to collect their now deseased son for a funeral.

Only, there was no body.

Author's Note : yeah, I bet you weren't expecting that, huh? I wasn't either, but it was convenient at the time. Oh well. I do feel bad about killing them off though. I'm kind of disappointed most of you have figured out the plot, not that I'm going to tell you which one of you were right.. hah, right. Anyways, I have school in half an hour and I'm at home in pjs, posting this. I should probably get going.

I suppose the wards aren't effective because Lily never died to protect Harry.. hmm. Also, I think I might be in search for a beta. If anyone would like to offer their services instead of my pointless searching, that'd be great! If not, you could always refer me.. mm, yeah. So that'd be that. I have twenty five minutes before the bell rings. Best get going.

Oh, and thank you to Isebas for pointing out the speech bubble, I would have never seen it otherwise, as I've never noticed the triangle next to it either. Yeah, I'm as blind as a bat. Thank you all for the support and the reviews!

I must now run to school. Ciao!