My darling, I have much to say
Where o precious one shall I begin?

You were dead.

At least, you thought so.

Why would you go through Hell if you were alive?

Things were a mixture of clear and hazy as you fell downdowndown, arms grabbing as you, thin fingers dragging along your skin as you opened your mouth to scream one last time- "Harry!"- but you weren't quite sure who Harry was anymore and why you were yelling their name. The icy limbs that dragged you down made you shiver and try your best to get out of their hold, but to no avail. Your eyes slowly began to see through the darkness of the pit you were in, and your grey eyes widened.

And then you screamed.

(crueltyhumanheartjealousyhumanface but this was not cruelty or jealousy these were monsters)

They did not have hands, if they did they were long rotted away to show ivory bone that pricked your skin and covered your eyes. When you opened your mouth to screech they crawled into your mouth and you choked, spat, bit, but they just kept ripping you apart from the outside to the inside, inside to the outside. You were bleeding harshly and your eyes were being stabbed with fingers, and when you couldn't take it anymore, it stopped.

The torture stopped.

(You weren't sure whether or not to be thankful because the inferno wasn't over yet was it? Nothing was so simple, was it? Was it? Was it?)

Blood was dripping from your empty eye sockets and all your teeth were gone. Your body was heavy and every single nerve was on edge and in so much pain that you bit your lip in half, sticky with sweat and metallic tasting with your blood providing a crimson coat to it, to muffle your shout. The arms and bodies (somewhere in the back of your mind you thought 'Inferi.' but it made no sense to you, nor the faint sense of irony that brought a flicker of warmth in the darkness before disappearing) that had held you so close and had broken you like a boring toy suddenly receded, and you continued your fall, deepdeepdown to somewhere you had no idea.

Then everything went black- even you could tell that somehow with your gushing eyes, although you had no idea how- and you couldn't feel anything near you. You felt your descent slow and you tried to look down, having been falling vertical, but there was nothing. Absolutely nothing.

It was Tartarus, it was Hell, it was dark and dangerous and you were dead.

That brought you back to beginning.

You. Were. Dead.

You hit the ground and you screamed.

"Sirius Black, you are hereby charged of manslaughter of twelve muggles and Peter Pettigrew. How do you plead?"

You opened your eyes. "Not guilty." The words flew out of your mouth even though you weren't quite sure what you were guilty of.

"Not guilty?" the prosecutor laughed. "Not guilty you say?"

You glared at him. "Yes. Not guilty." Your voice was steel and you were proud of yourself to making him wince, all traces of his amusement wiped away.

"You lie!" a woman screeched.

You weren't sure who said it, but you scowled. "If you must know, ma'am, I lie to myself all the time, but I never believe me. However, you should."

"Why should we?"

"Test me with Veritaserum."

The words spilled out of your mouth, and you didn't know where they came from, but it got the right reaction you wanted. A man- tall, with a long white beard and the most atrocious robes- tried to protest the use of Veritaserum, and you felt the most particular desire to hex him to the netherworld, but you resisted, everything blurry so much that you couldn't think straight.

They gave you three drops of something tasteless, and immediately the fog on your mind thickened.

You could hear them ask questions.

"Name?"

"Sirius Orion Black."

"What house were you in?"

"Gryffindor."

They nodded, the truth potion having worked then, and you wanted to curl your fists into balls but the potion kept you relaxed and calm.

"Were you the Potters' secret keeper?"

That was the first question. You fell even more into the gloom. "No."

There were loud mutterings and protests, but the judge held up his hand and looked at you red-faced. "V-Veritaserum does not lie."

"Did you kill Peter Pettigrew and the twelve muggles?"

"No."

Even more roars, and the old man with the funny robe tried to calm everyone down. You smiled brightly as he failed.

"Y-You did not kill them?"

"I did not."

"Explain what happened on that night then."

"I received notice from McGonagall that the wards fell and took my bike to get there. I found the house in ruins with James and Lily dead. Hagrid showed up a few minutes later to take Harry to Dumbledore and I let him use my bike. I knew that Peter was the secret keeper and had given away the information, so I spent hours trying to find him. I found him on that street and asked why he had killed Lily and James, and traded curses. He then yelled loudly that I had killed Lily and James, and threw down a curse that created a large explosion that killed the muggles. He then cut off his finger and dove into the sewers."

There were loud gasps. You didn't pay them any mind.

"W-We'll need some time to talk about this, o-of course, so please-"

"You can't!" A woman, Amelia Bones, stood up from her spot on the side of the Wizengamot and glared at the judge. "You have heard him, Black is innocent."

"T-That doesn't explain-"

"It does!" she and some of the other Lords and Ladies agreed, and the judge sweated. You didn't like him very much. You were still in the dark haze that reminded you of cold days in Azkaban- but did you go there or was that a figment of your imagination?

You didn't know.

(You never did.)

You were pretty sure you were dead, so nothing mattered, did it?

So done with this.

I hate the Wizengamot nope.

QL, a brief love letter, outsiders quote, a divine life or something like that.

I don't own Harry Potter.