1st of November, London. The wizarding world was still celebrating the Dark Lord's fall. They didn't know another tragedy was about to unfold.
Sirius spoke with a shaking voice, barely holding his rage. "You were their Secret Keeper, Peter. You. I trusted you. They trusted you."
"Sirius, f-f-friend! I-I had no choice," Peter stammered, voice cracking. "He would've killed me!"
Peter's appearance was slightly different from a week ago, his hair was unkept.
"HA!" Sirius laughed, not believing the words that came from Peter's mouth. "Friend? You dare use that word?"
"Was our friendship that shallow, Peter?" he said, stepping forward, tone lower but far more dangerous. "All those years. All the secrets. James and Lily were your friends. And you... You sold them. For what? Your life?"
Sirius wished he could turn back time, change his choices, the moment he met Peter. No, just a bit more than a week was enough.
Peter's wand trembled. His eyes darted to the side. "H-he was going to k-kill me if I didn't..."
"WE ALL KNEW THE RISKS!" Sirius bellowed. "But we chose each other. We would've died for you!"
Peter's voice became a whisper. "I-I-I didn't want to die."
"Neither did they!" Sirius roared. "But James is dead. And so will you!"
Peter looked around. He was closer to some muggles, his expression slightly changed.
Peter yelled, "S-S-Sirius, how could you have done that to James?"
Sirius laughed, "Yes, it happened because of me."
Peter's voice cracked through the smoke and noise, pitched high with panic. "H-H-How could you betray your friends, Sirius? With the Dark Lord?"
Gasps rose from the edges of the alley. Witches and wizards who had begun to gather now stared, unsure who was the villain.
Sirius froze. His wand didn't waver, but his heart did.
He's performing, Sirius realized. He wants them to hear that. To see me as the traitor. His eyes narrowed. 'Smart rat…' cornered and still scheming.
But it was already too late.
Sirius pointed his wand at Peter. A sudden burst of light, a cry of panic, and a violent explosion that knocked Sirius backward into a wall.
When he staggered to his feet, half-deaf, blood trailing from his temple, the street was silent.
Peter was gone. Only a smoking crater remained — and, near its edge, something small and grotesque.
A finger. Sirius stared at it.
There was no triumph in him. No righteous satisfaction in avenging James. Not even grief for the friend he'd thought he had.
Only a void. Then he laughed.
Not the laugh of a madman, but something quieter. Cracked. Empty. The laugh of someone who finally understood how it felt to lose everything, and still feel nothing.
Surrounding him now were wizards, at least four, maybe more. Robes fluttering, wands raised, eyes sharp and filled with the kind of fear that always led to violence.
Aurors.
He didn't need to hear the words. He knew what came next.
'They're not here to ask questions, ' he thought grimly.
He barely noticed the restraints binding his wrists, the clink of enchanted metal tightening around his arms. The world around him felt distant, muffled, like he was underwater.
He only knew one thing: They survived. Miraculously. Somehow. That should have brought him peace. But it didn't.
It brought sorrow. Because James, his closest friend, was gone. And it was his fault.
I told him it was safe. I trusted Peter. I was wrong.
He had been the one to suggest the switch. He had trusted Peter. He had told Lily it was safe.
And now James was dead. Aster and Harry lived, but at what cost?
Sirius was sent to Azkaban with no trial.
He didn't even try to defend himself.
Sirius clenched his jaw, the Aurors' shouts echoing around him like distant thunder. He didn't fight them. What was the point? He was already imprisoned by guilt.
He had wanted to protect them. All of them. But in trying to outsmart Voldemort, he'd led the wolf to their door.
Azkaban – Early November, 1981
*Knock. Knock. Knock.*
The sound echoed through the cold, damp corridors like a ghost tapping on old bones.
Sirius stirred. His wrists were bruised from enchanted shackles, and the madness Azkaban whispered into his ears had grown quieter, not gone, but waiting. Lurking.
Through the bars, a flicker of movement. Then the unmistakable silhouette.
Albus Dumbledore.
Sirius pushed himself up slowly, breathing hard. "Albus."
Dumbledore didn't smile. His eyes were sharp beneath the heavy weight of years, but softened as they met Sirius's. He stepped closer.
"I came here in favor of Lily."
Sirius's throat tightened. "She's ok?"
"She is."
He let out a long, shuddering breath.
"And the boys?"
Dumbledore's answer came slowly. "Harry is with her. Safe. Aster… was taken elsewhere."
Sirius blinked. "Elsewhere? What do you mean, why would you split them up?"
Dumbledore's face was grave.
"Aster carries something unusual within him, Sirius. Something powerful… and dangerous. We believe he may have unknowingly siphoned some of Lily's life force. His presence began to weaken her, even as he protected her. And staying with Harry would draw unwanted attention. Two children tied to the Dark Lord's fall in one household? That would invite scrutiny. Curiosity. Risk."
Sirius's fists clenched. "He's just a child."
"Yes," Dumbledore agreed. "Which is why I sent him where he could be both protected and… observed."
"Observed," Sirius echoed bitterly. "You mean controlled."
"I mean guided," Dumbledore corrected softly. "It is ancient blood magic, not entirely mine to command. By placing them together, mother and son. I ensured they could shield one another. But Aster... his presence would have strained that enchantment. Perhaps even unraveled it."
Sirius looked at Dumbledore's face, jaw tight. "So? Where did you send him?"
Dumbledore didn't answer right away. His eyes, half-moon spectacles glinting in the low torchlight of the cell, drifted away, not in avoidance, but in the quiet calculation of what truth to reveal, and how much.
"Somewhere safe," he said finally. "Somewhere no one would think to look, not even those who once called him family."
Sirius had been watching him closely, piecing together the clues in his measured words, words that had too many spaces between the truth.
Then he spoke. Quiet, certain. "The Book of Admittance told you who he really was."
Dumbledore's gaze didn't waver, but the silence that followed was answer enough.
Then calmly. "I changed the name," he said, almost gently. "His record now reads Aster Evans. No one will know his origin, not unless I choose to tell them."
He paused, as if that were meant to bring comfort. "Only you, Lily, and I."
Sirius didn't blink. His voice was hoarse, dry as smoke. "And Peter."
Almost seven years had passed.
Aster sat quietly in the backseat of the car, watching the houses pass by. A couple of dentists occupied the front seats.
They seemed gentle, they weren't the first dentists he'd seen. He had lost count of how many had come and gone.
He could eat better than the other children. He barely slept at the orphanage, only there one day a week, just long enough for a new dentist to check his teeth.
Strangely, they never found anything unusual or gave any answers, but the funding kept coming, regardless.
They came to a stop. The woman glanced back at Aster and said, "You're going to meet my... our daughter. She's very smart. I hope you treat her well."
Aster gave a practiced smile—a social smile he had mastered over the years, mimicking emotions he rarely felt. The staff at the orphanage said it was probably something that happened before he arrived.
"Sure, Mrs. Granger," he replied quietly.