"James married Lily Evans." Hadn't that happened before Regulus died? Around the same time, actually. They had only just been eighteen, but such were the times. War. One never knew what would happen next. "They have a son. Harry. He's my godson, the Gryffindor seeker."

And Sirius did smile as he thought about Harry. Maybe Harry symbolised hope for all wizardkind in Britain, but to him... To him he was everything. Nothing mattered the way Harry did. He just wished he could be more by now. "There was a prophecy that your side got their hands on. Meant that they wanted Harry dead."

And they still did. Sirius considered how much whiskey he had left. Not enough. Definitely not enough. "Halloween 1982. That's when Lily and James were murdered by Voldemort."