Sirius had a rather disturbing conversation on his way out of the disaster. It was, well, quite frankly it devestating. Along the way, he had managed to get his arm wrapped up, and set in a sling, but that didn't bother him at all. The News of the future, that made him-
Sirius is slumped in the snow, staring at the burning Residence, his eyes blank. He flicks his wand out, hoping against hope that the bottles survived. "Accio Booze!:"
Wonder of wonder, a good dozen bottles come sailing out of the destruction, to land in a clump in the snow before him. "Right then." He takes the first bottle that comes to hand, pops the top, and takes a deep swig.
Then he pours a small amount on a spot of snow to his left. "For James." A shot into the ground before him. "For Remus." He hesitates, and finally pours a smaller amount to his right. "For Peter too, you backstabber." And then he raises it in toast. "And for me, cause I won't be there either." He starts to chug.