Disclaimer: Obviously, I do not own Harry Potter or anything connected with it. JKR is the Queen of Everything!

Premise: It's amazing what a pinch of responsibility can do. How would things be different if the adults in the wizarding world behaved like adults? Sirius doesn't go haring off after Pettigrew, but instead takes care of Harry; Dumbledore is content with two full time jobs as Chief Warlock and Supreme Mugwump and let McGonagall take over Hogwarts years ago; and the Ministry is a functional government that would never allow a toddler to be left on a doorstep. Result? Shit gets done. Enjoy!

The feeling came on so suddenly that despite the international standard stabilization charms Sirius Black nearly crashed his motorcycle. It was so intense that only the reflex to kick on the hover charm kept the bike upright. Fortunately, it was nearly midnight, and, bless Morgana, this stretch of the A40 was deserted so there were no muggles to see the motorcycle swerve and nearly wipe out before shooting straight up and into the night.

Fighting through the adrenaline Sirius brought the bike down in a field just a few meters from the highway. He couldn't even think about the near miss he'd just had. His mind was entirely consumed with the sudden feeling that things were not right. In fact, things were intensely, unequivocally wrong!

His stomach was twisted in knots, his pulse was racing, his limbs were trembling, and his every nerve was flooded with a feeling of intense fear. No. No, not fear. Fear he could handle. Fear was an emotion he never acknowledged for more than a heartbeat. No. This was far worse. This was dread.

Somehow, every nightmare had come true at once and he couldn't stop it.

He reached into the extended saddle bag on the back of the bike and pulled out a small, yet ornate, handheld mirror.

"Prongs?" he breathed. No answer.

"Prongs?!" he said louder. "James! JAMES! LILY! ANSWER ME!" He shook the mirror. Pulling out his wand he lit it and examined the mirror. James always had the mirror on him, just in case.

As Sirius yelled at his reflection a few more times, a fog crept across the glass. Not a mist from the cold night, but a vision under the glass. The fog turned black and before his eyes a crack spread across his reflection.

Shit!

Sirius quickly summoned his Patronus, a burly dog not unlike his animagus form. "Quick! Fetch the Order! And alert Scrimgeour! We need Aurors! As many as you can find, send them to—" he nearly stopped. He wasn't the Secret Keeper! He couldn't tell them where to go! Only Dumbled—his brain shut down as he realized that he actually could tell them. His mouth continued on its own out of habit, "Godric's Hollow!"

No no no no no NO!

Somehow, he could say the words. That meant—he wasn't sure what that meant, precisely. He wasn't an expert at the Fidelius. But he knew one thing it did mean: disaster.

He dismissed the Patronus and it galloped into the night. Without even thinking Sirius apparated, bike and all, to the lane in front of Godric's Hollow.

The bike tumbled over, fortunately away from him. Sirius was staring at the ruined house. He was vaguely aware of people scattered up and down the street watching the column of smoke. Half the roof was blasted away and small pockets of flame flickered throughout the building. Clearly the wards hiding the house and its magical nature had been broken if the neighbors could see the house.

He cast several revelating charms in quick succession. The wards were indeed blasted open, but he detected no traps or lingering Dark magic. Homenum revelio told him someone was still inside. Friend or foe, he had no way of knowing, but the lack of Dark magic made traps or ambushes unlikely.

The Auror in him registered the flattened shrubbery and shattered glass even as he stepped quickly towards the house, wand still at the ready. He eased around the broken front door and scanned through the front room for any threats. A few scattered fires were all he saw and some quick charms had those smothered and the smoke thinning.

As the smoke cleared he saw the scorch marks of spells throughout the main hall, the number and concentration revealing a duel between two opponents, the stronger clearly having advanced through the front door towards the—

He flew down the hall so fast he might as well have apparated. The smoke and the odd angle had hidden his friend at first. There, sprawled across the bottom few steps and dressed in snitch pajamas and a bright red bathrobe, lay James Potter, clearly no longer living. His wand was still clutched tightly in his right hand. His left was halfway into his robe pocket. Reaching down cautiously Sirius probed past his friend's cold hand and found the mirror. It too, was cracked. If only James had reached it sooner! If only Sirius could have been here.

Don't be a fool. You know who did this. You wouldn't have lasted either. You couldn't have saved him. Sirius blinked back the tears. He had to keep going. There would be time for James later.

Stepping around the body he continued noiselessly up the stairs. The wind, driven up by the sudden escape of the smoke, whirled around his leather robes. More fires in the upstairs hall were quickly extinguished.

The lamps were flickering in the bedroom, but a quick glance told him the room was empty and he turned to the room across the hall.

He vaguely registered pops of apparition and voices calling outside, but he was too stunned by the sight of the blasted nursery to react.

She lay in a heap, nightdress rumpled around knees and elbows, hair plaited back for the night, staring across the threshold. Behind her the crib was shattered, the walls torn away to the chair rail decorated with dancing pumpkins.

Sirius turned his eyes to the tiny figure that had clearly been clutched in Lily's arms at one point. Sirius' breath hitched and he sprang into action. James and Lily, though clearly dead, were otherwise untouched, a testament to the spell that killed them. But Harry's face was covered in blood.

Sirius knelt swiftly beside the still toddler, running his wand over the small body with a few diagnostic spells. He let out a tremulous breath as red and green numbers floated over the boy showing pulse and respiration rates.

He's alive. Oh, thank Morgana, Harry is alive!

His spell revealed other issues, but they were beyond his ability. The important thing was that the boy lived!

Sirius stood and took a brief moment to run through the rest of the first floor, making sure each room as clear. He returned to the nursery as Aurors began sweeping through the floor below.

"Black! Report!" Scrimgeour leapt over James and raced up the stairs.

Sirius shook his head, searching for words. "I came… I knew… somehow. I was too late." He led his supervisor into the nursery.

Scrimgeour swore and swiftly began casting a number of investigative spells as Sirius knelt to gather the boy to him.

"Strange magic here. Any idea what happened? What's that?"

Sirius turned to show him the small boy. "Harry. He's alive. I have to get him to Saint Mungo's. The house is clear. I checked."

Scrimgeour nodded. "I'll finish here and meet you at the hospital for a statement."

Sirius nodded and turned to leave. His foot kicked something up against the wall and both men jumped at the sound.

"God almighty," swore Scrimgeour.

"Is that…" Sirius whispered, disbelieving.

Scrimgeour knelt, wand out, hovering over the object but not daring to touch it.

"I think it is. Dumbledore would know for sure."

Sirius shook his head. "What the hell…?"

Scrimgeour looked back around the destroyed room. "Whatever happened here is beyond either of us. I'll send for Dumbledore. We'll see the house isn't disturbed. Go, Black. Get that boy to hospital!"

Sirius nodded and disapparated straight to the emergency ward. He handed the boy over to the healers in a daze. His mind was all a jumble with thoughts tumbling over one another, clamoring for attention. Oh, James! And Lily. The house. He'd left his bike. Harry would need a new toy broom; he'd seen the pieces of the one he'd gotten for his birthday. Where was Lily's wand? What the hell happened to Peter?

But through the noise two things dominated his attention, giving him the focus and the will to stay still, to stay here for when they were done with James's boy.

First, Harry was alive, and he needed his godfather here, now.

Second…

… what was Voldemort's wand doing on the floor in Godric's Hollow?