"James, Sirius, shut up!"

I adore the Marauders, but their story makes me sad, so I'm going to change it. In other words, there coming back.

"Harry, kid it's me, Sirius." Sirius pleaded. "SIRIUS BLACK DIED NINE YEARS AGO, I WAS THERE, I WATCHED IT HAPPEN! IT WAS MY FALT!" The pain that these couple of sentences caused his godson was so apparent that Sirius actually reached out to put a hand on Harry's arm.

Harry, however, backed away "you still haven't answered my question. Not honestly at least. Who are you?"

All rights to the fabulous J.K. Rowling.

(This was written when I was about ten years old. It's riddled with mistakes. In all honesty, I don't have the motivation to edit this; I'd probably want to change the entire thing. That being said, this story has received a shocking amount of attention, so thank you so much for taking the time to read this.)