Time was meaningless in Azkaban.
Days could be weeks and months could be hours. With no windows, day could be night, while night could be day. I spent the majority of my time pacing the small six by six cell thinking. Thinking about the life I had lived up until my imprisonment. The life that I yearned for. The life that I so hoped with my entire being had actually happened. As far as I knew, the outside world could have just been a figment of my imagination that I had created in my boredom. James, Lily, Remus… they might not actually exist. In my heart I knew that wasn't true, but that only made the pain worse. If they were real, then what had happened to them was just as real. James and Lily are dead, and nothing, nothing could bring them back. Yet it was nice to know that all of it was real, the happiness, the friendships, the laughs, the loves, and the pain… to me it proved that at one point in time, not every respectable witch and wizard despised the name Sirius Black. At one time I had friends, and at one time, I was loved. At one time I was happy… But that was a long time ago.
Happiness was also meaningless in Azkaban.
Just as my soul reached for a happy memory of laughs and a worm common room fire with James and Remus and Him, a dementor swooped past the cold bars of my cell. James' bright smile was replaced by a body lying on the ground in a charred house. Remus' sarcastic remark was replaced by untrusting, hate filled eyes. The cheery, innocent face of Him was replaced by harsh betrayal and an act of cowardice. And Harry, always Harry's screams for the parents I couldn't save. His cries filled my ears, filled my entire body. There was nowhere to run from the sound in my cell. I crouched on the floor, clamped hands over my ears in a vain attempt to block out the terror of a frightened one year old. The sound of guilt is the most oppressive of them all and it eats you to the core. For twelve years I had listened to it ceaselessly. It would make any human insane within a year or two. Unlike a normal human, I had ways of coping. Quickly I allowed by body to be covered in shaggy fur, sinking down on all fours and finally completing the transformation with a quick burst of heat the ricocheted through by body.
A dog has a simpler mind. They can't delve deep emotions such as guilt and pain, or happiness, so becoming one had its perks in its ability to resist the soul draining effect of living among the dementors. With a clawed paw, I scratched yet another line on the slick cell wall that I stayed in. According to my crude calendar, I had been in this hell hole for about twelve years and a couple months, assuming that I could tell the difference between night and day. In any case twelve years is a long time for one to think. As Padfoot, the time was more bearable and time could be passed in an easier sleep. In the beginning I had made the mistake of trying to sleep in human form. For weeks straight, nightmares during the night and hallucinations during the day plagued my mind. I could feel my mind deteriorating to something less than human. I didn't want to have to resort to becoming Padfoot. The shaggy dog belonged to another time, to another Sirius. Becoming Padfoot brought back memories of James and the others. Of the marauders, or what they used to be. The four of us against the world, back when we had our entire lives before us. If only we knew that a couple years from then could change everything. How immature teenagers could grow up so fast. Becoming Padfoot felt like I was betraying all of that, betraying James to protect myself as He had done. I could feel myself dying as a human, and that's why I had to give in. If I died, no one would know the truth. The truth that I, Sirius Black was innocent. I didn't kill James and Lily Potter. I didn't tear little Harry's world apart from the seams. The guilt I felt was allowing that to happen. One small choice that had done all that, a choice that was made by me. In any case, Padfoot was able to handle the torture much better than Sirius ever could.
Another perk of being able to turn into a dog was that there was slightly more room to move in the small cell. Curling up on the dirt floor, I rested my shaggy head on paws and listened to the anguished screams of my roommates. Each cell was six feet by six feet, with about a foot a foot of stone in between. The cells were lined in long rows with about twenty cells on each side of a dimly lit hall way. The hall way I was in was built in a way so that every sound, every scream, yell, or cry bounced and echoed. I was locked away with the high security inmates that committed treacherous crimes like the one I was committed of. Of course, the more treacherous the crime, the more guilt or fear is carried, the crazier the person gets, and the louder they sleep at night. After years of practice, I could block out most of the normal anguished screams in the darkness and was able to get what felt like a few hours of sleep.
What woke me up was the sound of people, sane people, speaking to each other rather than screeching. The last time I heard that was when I found out I was sentenced to a life sentence without a hearing by good old Barty Crouch. My thoughts drifted to that day, filled with horror.
He cut his finger off and was gone, just like that. In a mad search I dropped to the ground, searching for Him wildly, but with no avail, He was gone without a trace. I got up shakily. I couldn't help it, the madness came bubbling out of me and I just stood there, laughing like a wild man. Laughing until my sides hurt, until I couldn't breathe, until I couldn't laugh anymore and I was sobbing instead. I drooped to the ground, head in hands sobbing uncontrollably. I could hear the muggle po-licey men or whatever they were called, but I found I didn't care much whether I was found or not. James and Lily were dead. Peter was gone. My one chance at stopping the madness had backfired on me and increased ten-fold.
Fudge reached me before the po-licey ever had a chance. A small chuckle bubbled through my lips when they took me. Fudge glared at me like I was crazy. Maybe I was, I wasn't really sure. There wasn't much to be sure of these days. With rough hands, two aurors gripped my arms tightly leading me away from the atrocious scene. A huge crevasse had torn through the city street. There were cars smoking in the crater, some impounded while others were flipped or impaled by sharp stones. Huge slabs of cement stuck up from the ground in odd angles. A particularly large slap was almost vertical, leaning against the edge of the crevasse. Telephone posts lay toppled at the bottom of the crate, their wires frayed and sparking. But the worst part was the bodies. Bodies everywhere, I the crater, hanging over the side of crushed under cars or cement. And the blood, the red the soaked through my shoes and made my feet squish up against the leather. The blood that soaked the cement a dark purplish color, and ran down the sides of the newly formed crater. With a harsh shove the aurors forced me to move forward just as the muggles began to arrive. I was about to protest but before I could get a word in, they apparated, taking me with them and replacing the London horror scene with a dark dingy room in the ministry.
With a sharp shove the beefy aurors shoved me into a hard wooden chair in the middle of the room. The chair faced a gorgeous mahogany desk that was decorated with thick government texts and various files with names of death eaters. By that time, something should have clicked for me. Anything telling me that I was in some serious trouble, yet nothing could prepare me for what happened next. Bartemius Crouch, walked tiredly into the room, and sat heavily into the great padded chair behind the desk. He shuffled a couple of the files before looking at me with an exhausted expression.
"Sirius Orion Black?" he questioned, picking up a file closest to him.
"Yes." I responded
"Sirius Orion Black, aged twenty one, you were found at the crime scene earlier today that involved the deaths of both wizards and muggles. Can you explain what happened?" said Fudge with a set face.
I sat up a little straighter in my chair, this was it. "Well Peter Pettigre-"
"Peter Pettigrew is dead." Interrupted Crouch
"Wait! He isn't dead he's-" I stuttered and stopped talking. If I explained why Peter was still alive, I'd basically be telling Crouch that I, as well as Peter and James were unregistered animangi. That would lead to questions of how we were able to perform that kind of magic, as well as why three teenagers decided to take the risk in the first place. By then, they'd be on to Remus and God knows, he already has enough to deal with. Also it would disgrace James. James, who had just given his life for his family. My best friend…. My brother…. I couldn't help it, I choked up. Fighting to get my emotions under control, I wiped my nose with my sleeve and snuffled again. Throughout all of this, Crouch remained impassive, the insensitive jerk.
"I'm sorry, I can't explain that." I said, swallowing my pride once and for all.
Crouch sighed and looked at me with a slight disappointment. "Sirius Orion Black." He said, drawing out my last name, causing me to flinch involuntarily. "You are hereby found guilty for the deaths of the wizards and muggles killed in the Magic explosion caused by dark magic in London on November 2, 1981. You are also found guilty for the deaths of James and Lily Potter in Godric Hollow on October 31, 1981, and are sentenced to a lifetime imprisonment in Azkaban for your actions." He said in a robotic voice.
I froze. I was responsible for the deaths of James and Lily? I wasn't even aware Crouch knew they existed. "James and Lily, but why?" I asked my voice cracking.
Crouch glared down at me "According to Albus Dumbledore, the Potter's were protecting important material regarding the Order and the Dark Lord. You were their secret keeper at the time of their deaths; therefore you are the one to blame." He said as if trying to explain a simple concept to a child having a tantrum. I blanked. What could I say? I was not in fact, their secret keeper, Peter was. The 'special information' was their son Harry. It was a miracle that he had survived the attack. An attack by Voldemort none the less. In the meantime, the little boy had vanquished the dark lord while James' betrayer was free. This little chat with Crouch was infuriating.
"I was their secret keeper…" I said weakly…. It was my fault… everything was my fault. At that point everything came crashing on me. James and Lily were dead because of me. I was the reason that Harry was an orphan. I was just as much to blame as He was. I killed my brother. I vaguely remember Crouch talking to the aurors that had been standing near the door the whole while. They gripped my shoulders and lead me out the door and walked me on the sidewalk before apparating.
When my feet hit the ground, I found myself walking down a narrow walk with cliffs on both sides. The ocean could be heard splashing at the cliff walls far below. A thick fog obscured all that was in front of me until all that I could make out was a large shape. As we got closer I realized where I was.
Azkaban.
I writhed and twisted moaning and trying my hardest to break free. To run. One of the aurors slapped me across the face and the other kicked me so that I fell hard on the cold ground. Gruffly they pulled me up my cloak and shoved me forward. What was I doing, trying to run. If the record was right, James had faced his death without fear. Attempted to give his wife more time and given his life. If he could be that brave, I should do the same. I got up, took a deep breath and walked steadily to my fate.
I've been here ever since.