𝗔𝗖𝗧 𝗜𝗜𝗜 ━━ 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗙𝗜𝗡𝗜𝗦𝗛 𝗟𝗜𝗡𝗘
128. now 21, cheating death

          𝗦𝗜𝗥𝗜𝗨𝗦 𝗜𝗦 𝗖𝗢𝗟𝗗. 𝗛𝗘 𝗜𝗦 𝗖𝗢𝗟𝗗 𝗔𝗟𝗟 𝗢𝗩𝗘𝗥. Broken secrets, broken hearts, broken promises, broken all over. He only feels cold, no sense of warmth enveloping him in the usual way the cottage of Godric's Hollow does. Just cold, frostbite wounding his skin, blood flow frozen all over.

      Cold all over.

      An aching, nervous panic that Sirius had once crowned himself incapable of feeling rose into his chest. That glass heart resting in his bloodied ribcage shattered on the spot, and the shards of glass tricked to the floor of the Potters' House—to stare back up at him, glinting until it blinded him.

      It was not only Sirius Black's heart that was glass-made. It was the entire world that shattered at the moment, pieces of glass circling and getting lost and then in a futile attempt, it tried to rearrange itself. The world tried to rearrange all its sharp pieces, trying to make sense of itself without the living soul of James Potter.

      James was dead.

      The world was dead. Cold all over.

      The glasses that fell askew which he was not fixing, not running a hand through his tangled hair. That arrogant grin was unseeing, that spark in his eyes vanished.

      He kneels, the hazel eyes were now dull and lifeless. Black collapses all over him, pressing his cheekbone against James' unmoving chest and just... just begging. Pleading for him to wake up because he did not know how to go about life without James. He wanted to be there forever, just holding James and taking scraps of his warmth to electrify his own heart. There was nothing else to be done. No purpose left.

"Please," he begged and begged, "please, I'm sorry, wake up." Then he is sobbing violently, head still laying on his chest, "get up, get up, get up."

      His head felt like it was made of rocks as it lifted, and his endless tears covered James' face and glasses.

"Please," he cries, "please, wake up, don't— don't leave me. James, James, no, James, please, James, James—"

      It's all gone, forever, everything destroyed. Years of laughs and pranks and tears and mischief and bright memories and arguments and yells and wise advice and torment and fighting frontlines and tear-shed and more laughs, it was all destroyed within a blink of an eye.

      This is not real, it's not real, Sirius thought. He turned around once more, hoping to see Lily and his bright green eyes staring at him; her and her beautiful smile as she rocks Harry in her arms. This is just a dream.

      Harry, he thought. The stairs creaked as he moved up. All the air around him disappeared, he found it hard to breathe. His lungs were corrupted, not realising when he had started crying.

      There was rubbles everywhere, the roof was almost broken down over his head, cement caving in and bricks covering the floor.

      That fierce, fearless look in her eyes was still intact even though she was not breathing, or blinking. Even within the dust grey chaos, Lily's eyes stood out. Sirius pulls her out, pushes some dust and hair from her face. Her wide eyes opened, terrified, the echo of pure, unadulterated horror etched on her features.

      Sirius kissed her forehead and shut her eyes using his hands.

      Then comes a sharp cry. Another one. A familiar series of cries endlessly calling for him.

      He marches downstairs and stumbles as soon as he sees Hagrid standing out in the front yard next to Black's motorcycle. And by some miracle... Harry was in his arms.

"Pady— pafoo!" Harry cries loudly, wailing. He was alive, and Voldemort... that must mean that he was gone. Harry was alive.

      The one with the power to vanquish the dark lord approaches.

      The prophecy was not mad, it was real and Harry lived. With a lightning scar on his forehead as he kept on wailing, screaming. He was trying to get out of Hagrid's grasp, trying to reach for Sirius desperately with his little fists in the air.

      Sirius did not know he could run this fast.

      He snatches Harry from Hagrid's arms and Harry stops howling in pain, somehow calming down as soon as he is settled in Sirius' hands, he winds his small arms around Sirius' neck, holding onto him and his familiar scent. "Everything's alright," he lies in a whisper, his throat was dried and his voice was hardly his own.

      Hagrid was crying too, letting out a thunderous roar in agony.

      Hagrid then takes Harry back, the baby starts to cry again, wailing and desperately trying to return to his godfather's arms.

"What are you doing—? Give him back, I'm his godfather, give him to me." Sirius demanded with an wide-eyed gaze.

"Yer need ter talk ter Dumbledore!" Hagrid shrieked, "he says Harry ought to be with Lily's family."

"Lily's family?" Sirius grimaced, disgust pouring out of his tone. "I'm not leaving my godson with those prejudiced morons!"

"Safest place, Dumbledore says," Hagrid told him, "blood pact, whoever did t'is mus' still be out tere—"

      Sirius realises then, something snapping in his chest. He just processed it all; if he did not give away the secret then... then it was... it was the rat.

"Take my bike," he snarls, pushing his keys into Hagrid's large hand and starting to walk away. His mind was spinning, frozen hands now sweating s though his body was confused.

      His only sense of lifeline now is rage. Pure, blazing bright rage all over his body. He wants— no, needs to kill Peter. Deep down he knows that he'll lose Peter too, another friend— friend? A traitor that cannot go unpunished. He needs to kill Peter.

      Sirius turned to Padfoot to find Peter, his scent that he had lived with for seven years so Peter's pathetic attempt to flee was no match to Sirius' power.

"PETTIGREW!" He roared, wielding his wand and not caring which Muggles saw, they gathered around and squinted their eyes at the strange commotion.

"Listen to me—" Peter was red, frightened and panicking and he was breathing heavily.

"FUCK YOU!" He bellowed, "YOU FILTHY RAT, YOU— YOU KILLED 'EM, YOU BASTARD!"

Peter stepped back, eyes darting around frantically and trying to figure out what to do.

"Don't move, don't you fucking dare," he warned, voice dangerously low, "you take another step, you're fucking dead."

      The muggles were whispering now, alerted. Peter stood there with his wide eyes, Peter that was their friend, their Wormtail. Peter worshipped James, he adored James with all there is to what Sirius thought was an enormous heart, his Pete had a love-filled, panic-ridden giant heart. Peter was his friend.

      And now that Peter had destroyed the only family Sirius has ever known. He destroyed everything.

"How could you— you–you killed..." he stuttered, trying to make sense of it all. "I trusted you."

     Peter's jaw ticked, the panicked look starting to disappear.

"No," Peter's expression fell cold, and a mocking, menacing laugh left his lips, unhinged, "you didn't trust you. With that Black blood and reckless rage, nobody trusts you."

      Once again, Sirius felt cold all over, his heart was frozen and it cracked.

      Somehow, for the first time in his life, he realises how awful it is to feel a whirlwind of anger and vengeance and determination all at once with all of his heart, the dagger holding this combination piercing through his heart with its sharp point. He knows now how Scarlet feels—

      Scarlet.

      Scarlet... Scarlet.

      A knife was pulled out, the world exploded.

      A pile of rubbles and cement and shattered windows covered the expanse of the muggle street. His head was bleeding, the grey chaos resembling Godric's Hollow. He was dizzy, he wanted it to be over. Screaming everywhere, raw and violent and painful screaming. Limp bodies of Muggles on the ground, some lifeless.

      It was all so perfectly horrible. It was the price he paid for underestimating the rat.

      Then came voices, familiar voices and one belonged to Alastor Moody. Sirius was walking slowly towards those voices, making sure to keep out of sight.

      Scarlet... Scarlet, Scarlet, Scarlet. He forgot all about Peter and his murderous tactics and he wanted the last seconds of his free life to be with Scarlet. Just Scarlet.

"This does not make sense!" Moody was telling his partner, "tell him!" He pointed aggressively towards another man dressed in Auror attire, head down and face lined with wrinkles.

"Sir, we have statements from Death Eaters declaring this is true — why would Hogwarts be attacked on the same night Scarlet Bridget gathers all of these people there?"

"Coincidence?" Moody arched his brow, "she was with me when the attack started. It's her wedding, for Merlin's sake!"

"She was working with He-who-must-not-be-named." His partner reminded.

"You and I both know this is true. Would it be really astonishing to surmise that there could be two snakes within the Order? Black and Bridget?" One of the men cut Moody off before he could open his mouth, "the attack was not sudden — the plans have been there for months."

"Your only source of information is Death Eaters?" Moody cackled, shaking his head, "Bollocks!"

"I urge you to think about it!" The man snapped, "Rationally. She is a Bridget, it would not be surprising to see her on the dark side where all her mad families are. The girl is insane. There are witnesses, more than enough evidence to suggest she attacked Hogwarts, intended to kill many children as well as betrayed the Order repeatedly."

      Without bothering to listen more, Sirius ran. Once he was out of the area, he Apparated home. Sirius vanished the second the hitmen and Aurors spotted him, shrieks and cries fading away.

      Could Scarlet ever be capable of betraying them all?

HOGWARTS

      Scarlet's mind raced with a thousand different thoughts as she neared the hospital wing, each step closing more of the paralysing distance between her and her target. 

      Running hands through her messy hair, she was pacing now. 

      Upon the moments of chilling silence, there was a particular conversation she had with Severus Snape a few months ago that rose above all other important memories.

      That time, Severus, in the middle of conducting their experiments from the notorious green leather book, mentioned, "I'm surmising that he was trying to save someone by using another life. Best believe he tried to sacrifice another life to save a child. Again, loose translation."

      "Would that not be odd? What if the child is premature?" Scarlet asked him, trying to make sense of Salazar Slytherin's life choices.

      "The spell, the ritual would find a way. Find another womb—"

      "Womb? As in, jump into another womb—? That makes no—"

      That makes no sense, she had meant to say before Severus rudely interrupted all those months ago. What does all of that mean? What did Severus mean by this? Merlin, Scarlet really wishes he was here right now with his intelligent inputs. Will an unborn child be able to find another vessel to grow in at the brink of death once a sacrificial ritual takes place? 

      Magic always finds a way, coursing through loopholes to make sure that not a single incantation cast goes to waste.

      When focussing, Scarlet could feel it. The three months old growing figure in her belly—crying out in struggle. It surely would not last long, not underneath the corruptive force of Voldemort's curse.

      Where was Voldemort now? Why was Sirius taking so long? 

      The baby—

      Should Scarlet care? Her heart was ripping apart at the thought of losing it, is it normal to care so much for someone she has never met? A million questions plundered her brain, puncturing the last remaining brain cells.

      Whilst she waited and waited for Sirius to show up, so she could discuss the plans they would bring forward regarding... well, everything, she grew increasingly anxious and heard an owl approaching for her delivery. She smoothed out of wedding dress and walked towards the window, taking the letter from the snowy owl. 

      The letter wasn't from Sirius, it was from Remus. Her heart thumped, wondering if Sirius had been hurt.

      Her eyes scanned over it.

      For the sake of her own heart, she leaned against the wall for composure. The harsh reality of the situation hitting her. 

      A thousand expressions ran through her eyes. Disbelief, mourning, utter disbelief, betrayal, confusion, depression, fury. Disbelief, disbelief, disbelief...

      Everybody that cared about Scarlet always knew she had a heart of glass. So thin, so fragile that it could crack within seconds if hit with the right thing. And the right thing, in this case, would be Sirius' betrayal.

      Scarlet sat with that same cursed, haunting letter in her hands. Eyes blurry, hands shaking, lips trembling, she could not move. She felt paralysed. She only ever brought darkness, a phrase she always repeated when bloodshed occurred in front of her. Darkness. Scarlet was fucked in the head. Could she have caused Sirius to spiral out of control? Could she have spread her darkness to him too?

      No, no.

      Her Sirius would never do this.

      Her Sirius would sacrifice himself—scratch that—sacrifice the entire world to save James Potter.

      James meant everything and more to him.

      Sirius and James. James and Sirius. It had always been them against the world. He would never sell them out. Scarlet would know. She would know.

      Yet, she did not know who the traitor within the Order actually was. If she did, James and Lily would be alive. If she did, Sirius would be spared. If she did, Harry wouldn't have been orphaned, her own child wouldn't have been orphaned. If she did... so much grief could have been avoided.

      All because of one stupid mistake. All because she could not do what she was meant to be perfect in.

      Like dominoes falling, more met demise. Another two bites the dust. Death came knocking, chanting more, wanting more. When would it be contempt? Why couldn't it stop taking? When would they receive something? Please, Scarlet shouted in the mirror, please.

          Dear Bridget,

          I wish I could inform you of this in person. We both know Sirius was James and Lily's secret keeper. I'm so very sorry to say — word is: he betrayed them, revealing their locations and allowing You-Know-Who to kill them. They're gone, Bridget, they're both dead. Harry was saved and taken by Hagrid. I'm not sure, I hear Lily's sacrifice killed Voldemort, that he's gone now. Sirius killed Peter and twelve other muggles during their 'confrontation' as I've heard from Mary, he is now the most wanted man in the country. I'm not sure how much you know about this. We can only assume he was the snitch in the Order. Don't be blaming yourself for any of this like I know you will, Bridget. None of us knew he could be capable of this, it's merely not possible in our eyes.

          I hope you're safe, seek help from the professors and hide. Don't leave Hogwarts, I will come and pick Everest and you up and take you home.

           Once again, I'm really sorry.

Lots of love,
Remus J. Lupin.

      When McGonagall entered the Hospital Wing, her eyes widened until her eyeballs threatened to bulge out of her sockets. Gauges and medicines were all over the place, and she only then was conscious about how she had stepped on a liquid pool of medicine which made her grimace.

      Scarlet's hands were roaming over the various cabinets as she threw down the pile of medicines, trying to shove aside the bandages and tissues in search of something. Her silence hung thickly in the air, and she sighed in defeat before placing a box on the floor, kneeling on the ground and taking out the bottles of chemicals and potions.

"Miss Bridget." McGonagall uttered, her steps hard and purposeful like they always were, and there was something telling about the way her chin was slightly dropped instead of always held high.

      It left a wave of tension in the air, abruptly and coldly, so much tension and fear circulating between them. Unspoken thoughts that were stacking up in their rift, curious questions intensifying the upcoming confrontation.

"Did Severus visit recently?" She asked. Suddenly, comforting fingers wrapped around her shoulder, and she almost melted into McGonagall's hands. Bridget tried her best to ignore that absolutely disappointed look on McGonagall's face.

There was a panicked and anxious look in the older woman's eyes as she kneeled beside the bride, "you need to get out of here."

"What?"

McGonagall was whispering, and she turned over her shoulder to make sure nobody was near the Hospital Wing before facing the blonde again, "People are after you. There is far too much evidence stating you are a Death Eater."

"I—I don't understand, how could they—" She shook her head, and McGonagall's face fell.

"Are you really?" She asked solemnly, "are you a death eater?" Slowly, she tugged and pulled down the long white gloves of Scarlet's, and found the dark mark littering her wrist, she took a shaky inhale and Scarlet let her do so without resisting.

"Dumbledore will explain." She was aiming for the usual monotonous tone—but even a little hint of raw emotion slipped through Scarlet Bridget's barrier. The tiniest little crack in the middle of her sentence. 

      People did not believe her. They never would have. After all this time, every drop of blood and tear she shed, none of it mattered anymore. It was all in vain. Everything she has done will never ever matter.

McGonagall nodded, "the explanation behind why you are a Death Eater?" She softly asked, not running away in fear or regarding her with distaste, "is this because of Sirius Black?"

Scarlet let out a cry, an agonising sound from the back of her throat that made the professor shed a tear of her own at the sight, "Sirius didn't do anything, it was me. It was all me."

"Miss Bridget, he killed so many Muggles, he killed his best friends." It hurt her own heart to say these words, to think about her beloved ex-student to do such a wicked thing.

"It wasn't Sirius, I love him, I live with him and I attended every Death Eaters' meeting, you think I don't know every part of him? Everything he does and thinks?"

"How well do we truly know one another?" McGonagall whispered, "I thought I knew you."

"You might have been wrong about me, but you could not have been wrong about Sirius," Scarlet tried, still scrambling through the potions, "you practically raised him, he always made you smile, and laugh, did he not? You should know he has an insufferably good heart, he wouldn't—"

      McGonagall was not listening though, her brows knitted in confusion and fear when her gaze laid on Scarlet's hands—her veins. The faded green turning matte black.

"How much dark magic have you been performing for the curse on Hogwarts, Miss Bridget?" In her defence, this was a common side effect of practising too much dark arts so she could not have known that this was not a result of casting dark charms but rather being hit by it.

"Severus Snape came in here a couple of months ago to work on a potion, he must have given it to Poppy—"

"I know," the professor said gently, handing her a bottle of potion. Scarlet sighed in relief, taking the potion from him — hoping all those months she spent on this chemical was not wasteful, hoping this goddamn thing works. "What does this do?"

A form of sacrificial ritual, Professor McGonagall, Scarlet would've sarcastically remarked at other times. Sacrificing one life to save another. To save my child.

      She watched as Scarlet drank the entire bottle in a hurry, grimacing at the horrid taste of it. A pained expression littered her face.

"Poppy told me to give it to you a few hours back." Said McGonagall, "she doesn't know the truth yet."

"Thank you," Scarlet sobbed, her heart breaking. She had trouble breathing and it was not due to the curse, it was due to the agonising feeling when she thinks of James and Lily. "Where is Eve?"

"Safe." The woman caressed the younger's cheek—not caring for the fact that this was a death eater she was in pain for—to wipe away the shreds of tears, "you would've made such a lovely bride, Miss Bridget."

      What a shame fate fucked it all up. What a shame that the Bridget blood in her veins made her go mad.

      Scarlet felt guilty. It was as clear as water. She was angry—beyond filled with fury because despite saving all those families, she could not save the ones that mattered. It sounded selfish, she knew.

      With the book's guidance, she knew the only way to snatch someone away from Death's hand was to by sacrificing another individual. Trading souls, in a way. Scarlet, in her life, has taken lives of multiple people. One last sacrifice would not mean much to her.

      If her younger self was to get a glimpse of the woman she has become now, she truly would not look forward to becoming someone like her. She would be disappointed. She sat and mourned what could've been, who she should've become.

      There was a glossy layer in Bridget's eyes, and a nerve in her neck twitched as she tried not to cry more. Like she was holding everything in. She looked completely and utterly rattled. 

      McGonagall knew there was no escape for the girl. She also knew better than to stop her from finding the love of her life. After all, if she lost her freedom and life without having Sirius by her side, the professor would carry the utter guilt for till her very last breath. It pained her to let the young girl, she's taught for so long, go without attempting to save her life. One of her own students was possibly going to die... and she let her go.

      She watched the little bowl of jewels grow up to be this incredibly powerful woman, and she had to watch her die an infamous Death Eater.

      Scarlet Bridget was more cunning than people gave her credit for. She found a way into the Dark Lord's dirty circle without being a Death Eater herself. She used Voldemort's trust and greed for her power as an advantage to spy for the Order. Despite being controlled through the effects of those deadly potions at sixteen, she fought against it, used it as a tool. Above all, she also found a way to uphold her family's tradition by making a move to Sirius Black himself—the epitome of pureblood and respectable family's heir (until he wasn't). She was clever and fierce in her own way. 

      However, she was also a seventeen year old girl when the war started, stepping blindly into it without knowing anything at all.

      One last time, in the quiet of the night, Scarlet Bridget walked into something unpredictable blindfolded. 

𝑪𝑨𝑹𝑨 𝑺𝑷𝑬𝑨𝑲𝑺

sirius' POV was not that great, I'm aware.
there is nothing I can write that would do his pain
of losing james justice.
It's impossible to word it so I left it short,
to intensify his confusion. 

I hate this chapter, it's bad and I'm sorry for it.