Imprisoned Thoughts
Disclaimer: I dost not ownth yonder Sirius Black or anythingst dealing with Harry Potter.
The difference, Sirius thought bitterly, between Gryffindor and Slytherin was the choices they made. The traits the two houses had were remarkably similar, yet what they chose to do with them… well, there were reasons the two houses didn't get along.
Sirius Black was sorted into Gryffindor when he arrived at Hogwarts on the first of September in 1971. The rest of his family, particularly his mother, were appalled. According to them, he should have been in Slytherin. After all, the House of Black was noted for being Dark wizards who highly valued being Pure-Blood.
It didn't matter now anyway. He had made his choices, yet he still ended up in the same place as those who had been unfortunate enough to have been sorted into Slytherin. He, Sirius Black, was in Azkaban.
Azkaban! After all these years, Sirius still couldn't believe he was here. I haven't done anything wrong! Well, that wasn't totally true. Sirius was sentenced to Azkaban for murdering Peter Pettigrew and twelve Muggles. In reality, he had only attempted to kill Peter. That little rat! Sirius was the only person in the world who knew that Peter was still alive. He was also the only one who knew that Peter Pettigrew had betrayed James and Lily Potter to Voldemort. And the knowledge both enraged and obsessed him.
Because Sirius was not given a trial, he wasn't able to explain that Peter wasn't dead. Peter had cut off his own finger as a decoy, then transformed himself into a rat. If only Barty Crouch had given me the opportunity to explain! In school, Sirius had been best friends with James, Peter, and another boy, Remus Lupin. Remus was a werewolf and the rest of the boys became Animagi illegally. Sirius was a dog, James was a stag, and Peter was a rat! Peter's alive… but he was unable to make anyone listen.
It's not that hard of a concept. Everyone knows we did illegal stuff before. Why won't anyone believe we're Animagi! The Ministry should be looking for Peter in rat form! Sirius thought angrily, not for the first time. It wasn't fair that Peter got to roam free, albeit as a rodent, while Sirius' fate was to waste away in prison surrounded by dementors and Death Eaters. Somehow, the fact that this thought was so maddening was the only thing keeping him sane.
The idea that he would have ended up in Azkaban anyway was also a constant companion for the prisoner. Sirius knew that if he had been like the rest of his family- a Pure-Blood elitist- he would have fallen in line with his brother Regulus, cousins Bellatrix and Lucius, and so many others to become a Death Eater, a follower of Lord Voldemort. At least then, my mother would be proud, Sirius scoffed bitterly in his head. Knowing that Bellatrix was only a few cells down from him, the irony of his situation was inescapable, just like the prison he was in.
As a shadow was cast into his cell, Sirius was suddenly startled out of his dreary thoughts. He looked up to see a portly-looking man in a green bowler hat holding a newspaper surveying the small, dank room. Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic.
On a whim, Sirius made a decision. He slowly stood up and took a step toward the bars.
"Are you finished with your newspaper, Minister?" Sirius inquired. Fudge looked a bit disquieted, like he hadn't expected coherency.
"Why do you want The Daily Prophet, Black?" Fudge replied uneasily. Sirius should have known he was going to ask questions. After all, this was an unusual exchange. Prisoners usually forget how to form a sentence. Mutter, scream, ramble… But sentences… I think I may be the only one now.
"I miss doing the crossword puzzle." Fudge then looked over at the dementor guard looming over them. It did not seem to care, so the Minister gingerly handed the newspaper to Sirius, withdrawing his hand quickly, as if worried he would get it bitten. After all, Fudge conceded in his head, it wouldn't do for the Minister of Magic to have a missing finger.
Sirius didn't seem to notice. He returned to the bed, which hung from the wall and doubled as a bench. As he sat down and unfolded the paper, he heard the Minister walking away, his footsteps slowly getting drowned out by the steady mutterings of the other prisoners. As he looked at the front page, he saw a photograph displaying the Weasley family. Molly and Arthur were distant cousins of his; they too did not buy into the idea of Pure-Blood mania and were considered Blood Traitors, so Sirius liked them. He looked at the headline- they were the winners of the Daily Prophet Grand Prize Galleon Draw. Drawing his eyes back to the picture, Sirius scanned it again and was about to turn the page when he noticed something that made him drop everything but the front page.
Peter! There he was, in that picture, sitting on a young boy's shoulder. Sirius recognized him instantaneously. After all, had they not transformed together on countless occasions? He pulled the paper closer to his face. With a hard, penetrating stare, Sirius was able to discern a missing toe. Angrily, he balled up the paper and flung it against the wall. Realizing, it might get taken away as trash, he rushed over, picked up the paper, and smoothed his over. Looking out of his cell into the corridor, Sirius looked to see if his overly-erratic behavior had been noticed. No dementors to be seen. Lifting up the corner of his mattress, he stuck the paper underneath, daring to take one last look at the photograph. He's gained weight. Or maybe I'm just thinner. Picking up the rest of the Prophet, Sirius sat back down.
Although he tried, concentrating on the news was an impossible task for the angry, imprisoned wizard. He kept moving around on the small bed trying to get comfortable enough to read, but it was hopeless. All he could think about was that Peter Pettigrew was not only alive, but had access to Hogwarts. If he could get into the school, he could reach the headmaster, the only wizard Voldemort feared- Albus Dumbledore. If Voldemort rose to power once again, Peter was well-poised to strike. Or at least get people in, the bloody coward! Sirius was doubtful Peter would do anything to risk his neck by himself.
Looking at the year for the first time, he noticed it was 1993. His godson, James' son Harry, should also at Hogwarts by now. Peter Pettigrew had better not lay one measly paw on my little Harry! The thought that his former friend was also in position to hurt Harry along with Hogwarts and Dumbledore made Sirius realize that something had to be done. But how?
Eventually Sirius dropped the paper and fell into a fitful sleep. Passing dementors heard him muttering, "He's at Hogwarts…. He's at Hogwarts."
A/N- If the mood strikes, feel free to review.