The name--his name--slips away like it was never there to begin with, and he almost believes that it never existed. But, he can faintly remember a boy's scream (Harry, is that you?) and whispered sweet nothings in his ear from…somebody. So he must have a name, because people have names. He wonders fleetingly if he really is a person.
He can't see anything either. The thing is, he has the funny feeling that there isn't anything to see in this black, empty abyss. Sometimes, whispers drift up to him, feeding that starving need for something, anything to fight back the horrible loneliness.
He's lonely. When he hears those murmured voices, he always tries to run towards them. His limbs don't obey him, and even if they did, where would he go? The muttered words always fade before he can grab a hold of them.
The sound of hooves (Padfoot, Padfoot, Padfoot. Don't forget it.) startles him out of his silent musings. It rushes by him and is then gone.
Sirius. Sirius Black is his name. He suddenly remembers it.
Sirius Black.