The Corpse That Lived.

Chapter 1

In Sirius Black's opinion October was the worst time of the year.

It's the little things, you know. The London weather is unpredictable, some days it's sunny while other times it's too cold. The trees were nearly bare from September so leaves and way too slippery due to the rain and not crispy at all. Halloween was nothing special. It was the time of year that Sirius Black wonders how anyone could enjoy giving away free sweets to hyper active, hyper annoying kids. He shuddered thinking of their sticky, grubby hands.

It was also this exact day nine years ago when Dahlia Potter took her last breath. Being a father was never in the stars for Sirius but he loved Dahlia like she was his daughter.

Of course Sirius black would hate Halloween. It was the annual reminder of Sirius's failing. He failed his goddaughter, failed his best friends. He knew they didn't blame him; they had told him over and over, but it no good to assuage the guilt he felt as keenly today as he did nine years ago.

Hyacinth deserved to have fun halloween without Sirius Black dragging the mood down. He just could not force himself to smile on the anniversary of Dahlia's death. He took him years to reconcile that people could celebrate it because of Voldemort's downfall. Only a few mourned Dahlia, only a few knew about her infectious laughter and every year they come together and mourn her memory.

But tonight Sirius Black was alone at Grimmauld place was sort of a punishment for him, a penance he felt he owed for getting Dahlia killed. Since it was unplottable and hidden, he didn't need to worry about locking the doors behind him and left his wand safely on the sofa. He stepped out onto the front porch, transformed into Padfoot, and then ran into the dark night.

It was cold and raining tonight, the wind vicious and howling. It was appropriate, not only for Halloween, but also the morbid anniversary remembered tonight. The thick fur of his Animagus kept him from minding the cold or the rain, and it drove most of the Muggles indoors, giving him free roam of Caledonian Park tonight. He could hear laughter drifting on the wind from nearby celebrations as the world revelled on in cheerful oblivion. The weather tonight was fit for mourning, not celebrating, and Sirius would wallow in the rain and misery until the dark anniversary was over.

As Padfoot, his feelings were somehwat dimmed. He loved his Animagus form, loved the freedom and clarity a of mind that came along with the dog's heightened senses. Nothing hurt so bad when he was Padfoot, and he could almost pretend he was out romping with his friends tonight as he splashed in a few puddles and felt mud pelt his coat. He would need a long hot shower when he returned home, but for now, he let himself be covered in mud and let the rain wash away the guilt and the ache of loss.

As he started to trot off towards the house, the wind shifted and his keen sense of smell suddenly detected a whiff of something he hadn't noticed before. He wasn't alone in the park tonight. There was someone here, someone human, and the scent seemed vaguely familiar. But it couldn't be, could it? He didn't spend much time as Padfoot except with James and Remus, so their scents were the only ones he knew well.

Curiosity piqued, he followed the scent until his eyes finally detected a figure on a bench. It was too dark to really make out much, but he could discern a figure lying on a park bench, face turned inwards in a vain effort to shield it from the rain. What could anyone be doing out in this weather? he wondered as he moved a little closer. As he approached the figure, he realised it was too small to be an adult, and his heart skipped a few beats.

It was a little girl. And she reeked of death.

What was a little girl doing in a deserted cold park?

His dog form was rather large and intimidating, so Padfoot moved quietly towards the girl and tried not to startle her. Closer now, he could see the girl was in no shape to be out in this weather, dressed in tattered jeans and a t-shirt, her thin arms exposed to the elements. Her dark hair was matted down with rain, and she was shaking so hard it was a miracle she could even remain on the bench.