Author's note: Yet another Harry Potter oneshot from me, but nowhere as fluffy and happy as my other ones. But give it a chance, and if you could, a review.
Disclaimer: If I was JKR, Sirius and Fred would never have died. (They did, and I'm not.)
The Last Denial
Sirius Black laughed. It was just something he did, no matter what was going on around him. He laughed when his parents disowned him. He laughed when he played pranks on classmates. He laughed when Marlene kissed him. He laughed when he fought death eaters.
And he laughed now, as Aurors carried him through the streets, destined to go mad in Azkaban. He kicked and struggled and writhed in the grip of the four strong men dragging him, but mostly he laughed.
It was the only thing that would keep his heart from breaking, and Sirius Black's heart was very, very breakable.
James was dead. Lily was dead. It didn't add up. Tears flowed freely from his gray eyes, even as he laughed.
He laughed because James never stopped asking Lily out, no matter how humiliating it was. He laughed because Lily had said yes during a Quidditch match, and James had fallen twenty feet to the ground. He laughed because James taught Harry to fly without telling Lily. He laughed because Lily found out anyway, and made James eat spinach for dinner.
He laughed because of the bitter irony- the rat had ratted them out. He laughed because he had been right, there was something off about Peter.
He cried because he would never get to say 'I told you so' to James.
He cried, because the memories were over; the dreams had ground to a halt.
He struggled, too, of course – Sirius Black was not someone to be dragged around like a criminal. He struggled because Harry was all alone, and he, as his Godfather, couldn't raise a child very well from Azkaban.
Azkaban. Dark, lonely, dementor-filled Azkaban. A place where death wasn't something to fight tooth and nail, but something to welcome as a friend.
He was headed to a fate worse than death.
Because James and Lily were dead.
And Peter had betrayed them.
The vicious cycle in his head wouldn't stop. The laughing and crying wouldn't stop. Bollocks, he thought. I'm going mad already, and I'm not even in Azkaban yet.
The team of four Aurors threw him into a padlocked room. This wasn't Azkaban, this was a muggle prison. He figured they'd hold him for the night, and make the long journey to Azkaban later, when they had more backup to help contain this 'ruthless killer'.
'You've gotten it wrong!' he wanted to shout at them. 'I'm not the guilty one! The rat! It was the rat, it was Peter Pettigrew!' but of course he couldn't, he had no evidence now that Peter had disappeared. And he'd been acting like a raving lunatic, with his laughing and crying, why shouldn't they suspect him? The Black, the wild one, the pureblood.
It was a convincing case, if he hadn't known the truth he would have believed it himself.
I didn't do it. I'm innocent. It wasn't me. He repeated to himself, over and over and over in his head. He really was going to go mad well before Azkaban.
A muggle officer in a policeman's uniform came to the door. He was getting on in age, and his fatigue showed. "You get one phone call, Mr. Black." He said, giving him the phone through the bars and sitting down at the desk.
Sirius wanted to laugh at him. His best friend was gone. Who was he supposed to call now? There was no James to talk them out of this. There was no Lily, ready to abuse her Head Girl power to save his skin. Peter was a traitor, and he never wanted to see him again, except maybe to kill him. Remus was in hiding, and he couldn't risk exposing him. He had stopped talking to his family ages ago. Marlene was dead. Fabian and Gideon were dead. Dorcas Meadowes was dead. All the people he counted on were gone.
There was no one left to call. No one to plead for help. No one could get him out of here.
But there was someone he could call, he realized. Someone who had practically raised him, given him a place he belonged. Someone who smoothed his rough edges and turned him into a young man to be proud of. Someone who put a lot of faith in him, someone he couldn't let down.
He didn't think twice before dialing the number.
"Hello?" came a voice from the other end of the line, composed and firm despite its owner's age.
"Hi, Professor" he said hesitantly.
"Black, what is the meaning of this? What is going on here? I-I just heard the news, Sirius. I thought you- weren't you- you couldn't-didn't …" Minerva McGonagall's voice trailed off.
The officer tapped his watch impatiently.
"I can't talk long, professor." He said softly. If there was one person he needed to convince of his innocence, it was her.
"Sirius Orion Black, what is going on here?" He had never been more thrilled to hear the words that had landed him in many a detention. If he closed his eyes, he could almost believe he was a Hogwarts student again, being told off for bothering Slytherins. There had only ever been one way to respond to that question. For the first time ever, it was true.
"I didn't do it, Professor." He whispered, his voice breaking. "It wasn't me."