The Grim
Written by: Adventure-Seeking-Juliet
A/N This was written for the QLFC where I play Second Beater for the Kenmare Kestrals. Sirius Black was an innocent man, but even innocents can be guilty. I was given the prompts: Suspense, Black, "Therapy" by All Time Low, and the following quote:
"I hear the world is ending soon. When we go, and we are all going to go, I will be part of it." – Neil Hilborn, This Is The End
Warnings: This contains colorful swear words and allusions to depression and suicide. Also, I'm sorry for any mistakes, this was a bit rushed.
"When I woke up alone I had everything:
A handful of moments I wished I could change
And a tongue like a nightmare that cut like a blade."
All Time Low, Therapy
"Gryffindor, where dwell the brave at heart," Sirius mumbled to himself. He'd repeated the phrase randomly throughout the day, hoping that if he said it enough, he'd feel like a Gryffindor again.
But he didn't. He was still shivering. The first night in Azkaban had felt like something out of a nightmare. At times during the night he would wake up expecting to see James at his cell, attempting to break him out, but of course, James wasn't there. James was dead.
"I didn't do it," Sirius repeated, his teeth chattering through his words, "James would know. He would believe me."
"But he can't," Sirius argued, his doubts taking on a persona of their own, "Because he's dead."
Sirius Black did not cry. He was a man of action…but that night, he sobbed.
"I can't give up that quick
My life is a candle and a wick
You can put it out but you can't break it down
In the end, we are waiting to be lit."
Laura Marling, Hope in the Air
Weeks crawled like years, but Sirius Black was a fighter.
The dementors loomed over him, a constant presence that reminded him of all the things he tried to forget, but somehow, talking to himself helped remind him of what he had left.
"I'm innocent, I didn't, would never, kill them," Sirius screamed, raising his fists to the sky, wishing the dementors would fight back, "You hear me?! You've got the wrong man!"
His voice became hoarse and his words became growls, and by the end of the night, all he could do was whisper, in a ghostly voice that didn't quite belong to him, "I'm the Grim."
"But do not ask the price I paid,
I must live with my quiet rage,
Tame the ghosts in my head,
That run wild and wish me dead."
Mumford & Sons, Lover's Eyes
"I hate you," the venom in his voice was unrecognizable, "I trusted you! I stood up for you…we all did. What kind of rat fucks his friends over? When I get out of here, and I will, I will murder you. Peter Pettigrew. You'll squeal like the scum you are. If I am to rot like a murderer, then a murderer I will become."
His rage wasn't the loud, angry monster it had been the year before. Now it was bitter. Bitter and quiet. Deadly.
A laugh tore from his throat, "I should have guessed. Your animagus is a rat, Peter, how could any of us have ever been so fooled?"
He was quiet for a moment, considering.
"Fuck you, Peter."
Hot, bitter tears slid down his face. He pounded his fists against his brick cage, his teeth clenched, and his eyes yellowed.
"I'm a killer because of you. I might not have raised a hand to the Potters that night, but I'm the reason they're dead. I carry as much blame as you."
His voice cracked, "How do you live with yourself, Peter?"
Sirius rubbed his hands. His knuckles were cut, bleeding, but without a wand, he'd never be able to heal himself. In a way, he was glad. He deserved the pain.
"Remus? Remus Lupin? How could I ever think it was Remus? He's the only one left. The last, true marauder. I hope you feel this guilt, Peter. I hope it crushes you every night. I-I," Sirius hiccupped, "I hope you feel like this. I hope you're like me. I don't recognize myself, Peter. And it's all because of you."
The night was rainy, and, for some reason, the dementors hovered close to his cell, devouring what soul he had left.
"Who's Sirius Black?"
His eyes glazed over, and, for the longest time, Sirius Black couldn't remember who he was, but the sun dawned early the next morning, and, somehow, the deranged murderer managed to say, in a choked whisper, "I'm sorry, Remus. I'm so sorry."
Once again, he was awake. He was Sirius Black, but suddenly, Sirius Black wasn't the person he'd always been.
"I'm the Grim."
But where are you now?
Where are you now?
Do you ever think of me
In the quiet, in the crowd?"
Mumford & Sons, Where are you now?
Years seemed to past, but the Grim had no idea if time was actually passing. His prison was his mind. Time didn't matter when he was trapped there.
His hair was long past his shoulders now. It was matted and stringy—he knew he looked nothing like care-free, arrogant Sirius Black now.
His thoughts strayed often. Sometimes, he talked to James. He apologized. He promised.
Peter was long forgotten now. The Grim felt only a black rage when he thought of Peter Pettigrew.
Surprisingly, it was Remus Lupin who occupied his thoughts the most.
"I wonder if you'd recognize me," Sirius said, his voice calm, "You'd say, 'Sirius, you've let yourself go, old friend.' And I'd say, 'I still look a right side better than you, mate.'"
He laughed. When he talked to Remus, he was almost Sirius again. He could remember the truth.
"I didn't mean to, Remus," He swallowed thickly, "I know you loved them, too. I'm so sorry."
Sometimes, Sirius thought Remus would forgive him, but other times, the Remus in his head only had room for hatred.
"Desperado, oh, you ain't getting no younger
Your pain and your hunger, they're driving you home
And freedom, oh freedom well, that's just some people talking
Your prison is walking through this world all alone."
The Eagles, Desperado
The need to end it all was the worst. Sirius Black came to hate the Grim, but the Grim hated Sirius Black worst of all.
"I tried to do the right thing, I thought I was helping them," Sirius would say, quietly. He was subdued. His anger was a live thing, a bitter monster that turned on him when it had no one else left to hate.
"You turned your back on your friends, you trusted the rat above Remus…and you know why." The Grim hummed with satisfaction when Sirius struggled to fight back.
"I-I just thought Remus was turning against us.."
"Why?" The Grim demanded, "Admit it. Admit it. You're a hypocrite, Sirius Black."
"Because," Sirius spat back, defiant, "He's a werewolf. I thought he was helping Greyback."
"You admit it, then. He wasn't a pure-blood, so you blamed him. You're pathetic. You're just like the rest of your family, blinded by hatred and prejudice."
"NO," Sirius growled, "I made a mistake. I can do better. I am not my family."
The Grim cackled, " No, you're worse. You pretend to be good, but on the inside you're a Black."
"Shut the fuck up," Sirius muttered.
"You stupid wizard, you can't run from what you are."
Sirius only nodded, wondering all the while why the Grim sounded so much like his mother. She'd always told him those things.
It was at that moment that Sirius decided to fight. Really fight.
"You're not real, you know," He said, "I'll get out of here…and you'll be gone."
"I'll always be a part of you," The Grim fought back, "You can't lose me. I'm you."
Sirius only shook his head," No. You're them. My parents, my family, all of the people who never thought I'd be the wizard I was, Peter, the media, all of them. And you won't win."
The Grim was fading now, "You know who you are. You're not good. You'll never be like James. Remember? Snape? You would have had him killed."
"You're right. I'll never be completely good, but no one is," Sirius's voice was steely, "And you're wrong. I'm not Black. I'm gray. That's what it means to be human…something you'll never understand."
The Grim was gone then. Sirius Black knew what had to come next. He was the only one who knew the truth; he was the only one who could save Harry Potter.
A hero is made by a choice…and, in the end, Sirius Black was a hero—
"Gryffindor," he said, his now-yellowed teeth barred in a smile, "Where dwell the brave at heart."
A/N In case it wasn't obvious, the Grim represents depression, and the reason why I wanted to personify it is because J. used the dementors as a representation of her own depression. Many, many people suffer from depression, and it's a serious issue. I've dealt with it myself, and if any of you ever need someone to talk to, I'm here to help. I hope you enjoyed the story.