The man with no face

He was a man of risk,
A man with no fear,
Sirius was wrongly accused,
And fasely feared.

His breakout after so long,
Brought many an outcry,
But he was determined,
He had chosen his side.

Not that it was the one they thought,
He wanted to do what was right,
So tirelessly he fought.

Against those who tried to hold him back,
Against those who would've held him in chains.
For a crime he did not commit,
And for a sentence he should not have to submit.

So who could blame him,
When in dog form he sprang,
And, sick of the enclosure,
Ran from it, as barely a man.

For a year he sought out his God-Son,
The son of the one who he used to call friend.
He longed to tell him the real story,
Which didn't involve a sick, twisted end.

But, alas the fatal day came,
When Sirius, so restless, could not refrain.
He had to see Harry one last time,
He had to see Harry, to say goodbye.

That appearance which led to prison,
He had been spotted,
He was no longer an able part in the mission.
Against evil he could not fight,
He would sit alone in the dark cold night,
Caring for Buckbeak was all he could do,
Whilst the others at Grimmauld Place,
Served their duties through and through.

So one night,
When he got an incling that something was wrong,
He tore from the building and ran in throng,
With the order, side by side,
Willing to fight, willing to die.

And bravely it was,
That dear Padfoot died,
Defending his honour, defending his pride.
Spiting all who thought him wrong,
Spiting those who had done him wrong.

One flick of a wand,
One slip of a foot,
Black disappeared.
Behind the veil,
Mystically moving,
There was nowhere else for him,
He was now the star his name intended him to be,
Padfoot, Sirius, no longer is he with thee.