AN: Hello all! Alright, this is a series of one shots, all based on the alphabet game! Basically, I pick up a random Harry Potter book, turn to a random page, and find a word beginning with whichever letter I'm on (a good word, obviously), and center the chapter on that! Genres will be drastically different chapter to chapter, depending on my mood and the chosen word. Rated for language for now, I'll let you know if that changes. Hope you enjoy!
Azkaban
It was raining. It was always raining here. Lightning flashed through the pitch black sky, brightly illuminating, just for a second, the jagged harsh outline of the stone prison, jutting out from the rock which it sat, alone. The lightning faded from the sky, leaving only the prisons silhouette visible from the shore, for anyone who cared to look into the sea. But no one cared to look that way. No one cared for the tormented, tortured souls who were kept inside. Thieves, murders, rapists and the scum of the wizarding world sat huddled in each of their cells, each going through their own personal hell. Wind tore through the crumbling walls; rain dripped between the stones in the ceiling; rats scurried about, hoping to find a dead prisoner, or at least one who had given up the will to bat away their nibbling. Even still, physical conditions were so much more comfortable then the mental conditions that they had to endure. Dementors glided silently through the halls, their rattling breaths drawing in any warmth that managed to leak into the place. Prisoners clutched at their heads, weeping as they passed, some screaming, and some had slipped into insanity, gazing at nothing with empty eyes. Screams echoed through the halls; crying and mad jabbering could be heard at all times. The smell that seeped through the building was a putrid one, of bodies gone to waste, and decay claiming the thin corpses of people that were. No one cared to look in the direction of Azkaban. A place of death, reserved for the heartless heathens who were facing justice for the crimes they wrought. Reserved for the guilty.
Except for one man.
Sirius Black sat in the corner of his cell, the driest, warmest corner, relatively speaking. He watched as a rat skittered just past his toes, disappearing into a fissure of the wall. Not for the first time, Sirius wished he could turn into a rat and escape right along behind them, worming his way through the walls until he reached open air. Do animals' sense dementors? He wondered yet again. He knew he felt their presence less when he was a dog, but real animals, did they feel the chill creep into their bones as dementors drew near? Did they feel their thoughts constrict; did their animal instincts cry at them to run away from the monsters? Sirius winced as the person in the cell next to him started screaming suddenly. Considering the thirteen years he had been here, this neighbouring cellmate was by far his least favorable. He was a screamer, only taking a break from that to cry hysterically, robbing Sirius of the fitful sleeps he usually managed. Sirius knew though, if he was taking it this hard, it would only be a matter of time. Only a matter of time, till the thin thread that strung that man to reality finally snapped, and he would slip into the dark emptiness of insanity that all of the prisoners eventually went to. Quiet insanity, he thought bitterly as the man continued to scream. He leaned his head back against the wall trying hard to block out the echoing shrieks around him, his lank hair covering his eyes, keeping the world dark.
He opened his eyes with a start. He only closed his eyes for a second, didn't he? Or maybe not, everything was quiet, for the time being. Maybe he drifted off. What did it matter anyways? Sirius tried to shrug it off, but the feeling to know how long he slept continues to nag at him. He was like this ever since he came to Azkaban, vainly trying to keep track of the time, know what the month was, the day, the hour. He couldn't rationally explain why he needed to do this, maybe it made him feel still connected to the outside world, somehow. When he was lucky enough to get a newspaper, he always looked at the date, to see if the actual date was close to what he thought it was. Sometimes the date meant something. Christmas, his birthday, the day he was sentenced. His stomach did an angry flip inside him as he thought once again of the circumstances that brought him here unfairly. Peter Pettigrew. One of his best friends, a brother to him, betrayed them all. Now Remus thought him a murderer, James was dead, and Sirius wasted away. What of Peter? He wanted to know. He wanted to know something terrible had happened to him. He wanted to know he was suffering somewhere, somewhere worse where Sirius himself was, somewhere were that backstabber deserved to be. He felt a cold anger flow through him, thinking about that rat bastard living his life in luxury somewhere. This emotion couldn't come at a better time, as this is when a dementor chose to swoop by Sirius's cell. Keep moving, Sirius thought, determined. You'll find no happiness to suck out from here. The dementor indeed did move along, and Sirius's bravado began to fade. He was just so tired.
What was he clinging onto life for? He would never escape, he knew this. No one had ever escaped from these blasted walls, and there had more talented witches and wizards in here then him. No he would die here, he was certain. So why prolong the inevitable? Was he hoping that one day he would see Remus again? No, he couldn't even bear the thought of seeing his friend face to face again. He could picture the scene almost perfectly, Remus being horrified at seeing his friend, the betrayer. Sirius, desperately pleading his case, that he was innocent, that it was Peter all along. It was almost laughable, if it wasn't so depressing. Why would Remus ever believe him? He had no proof, except his word. The word of a convicted murderer. Was he hoping to maybe one day see James' son Harry? This thought did bring a tiny bubble of joy to his chest, which was immediately ripping from him painfully as a dementor swooped by. Gasping, Sirius quickly transformed into his dog form, feeling the dementors presence slightly dulled. He should have known better then to think of Harry. Thoughts of his godson always drew the dementors close. Besides, Harry would have grown up with the official story, that Sirius killed his parents. If they ever met, Harry would probably try to kill him, at least that's what Sirius would do in his shoes. Shifting back into his skeletally thin human form, the question remanded. What was he holding on for?
Footsteps echoed down the hallways. Sirius stood up and shuffled to the bars of cell doors, curious. Who died? Maybe his screaming neighbour finally was quiet forever. Looking down the corridor as much as he could, he could see a bigger group than the death collectors was on their way. Cornelius Fudge came into view, with a few of his ministry drones tailing behind him, talking quickly to the man who ran Azkaban.
"Really, this annual checkup is quite unnecessary, I assure you," Fudge said squeakily, his voice a few octaves higher then it probably naturally was.
"It is mandated by the Ministry, you know that sir," came the reply, also slightly on the panicked side. Sirius frowned. Another annual checkup. Ah, doesn't the time fly when you're having fun, he thought drily. Though, this meant two good things. First, the dementors wouldn't be near, at least not while Fudge was around, it was not permitted by Fudge. Secondly, if he was lucky it meant… he strained his eyes in the darkness, his face pressed against the bars. His eyes finally sought out their prize. As Fudge and the crew moved to walk by his cell, Sirius cleared his throat.
"Minister, are you done reading that paper?" He asked Fudge directly in his hoarse, hardly used voice.
Fudge seemed to jump out of his skin, and whirled around to face Sirius. "My dear man!" he exclaimed loudly. "Who are you? What do you want?" he asked hurriedly, his hand flitting towards his pocket where he surly kept his wand.
"Sirius Black," Sirius met Fudges now wide eyes with his hollow, sunken in black ones. "I wanted to borrow the paper," he said calmly, and he held out his hand between the bars, his cold gaze never leaving Fudges.
"I-Black? Paper? Oh, the paper," Fudge sputtered out, and fumbled for the newspaper that was hanging out of his breast pocket. "Err… here," Fudge hesitated as though Sirius was up to something sinister, but when Sirius continued to stand there with his hand outstretched, Fudge quickly shoved the paper in his hand and let go, as though it was contaminated now Sirius touched it.
"Thank you," Sirius let out a grim smile, which he knew made is gaunt face all the more menacing.
"Uh, yes. Good. I mean, you're welcome," Fudge quickly turned on his heel and lead onwards, all at even quicker pace then he arrived.
Sirius let the smile fade from his face as he returned to his corner, and shook out the paper. The Daily Prophet, this should pass some hours. His eyes customarily slid to the top of the page to check the date, but he saw something first that made him freeze. The picture on the front cover. A nice looking family with too many kids to count, but there, on the tall boys shoulder, him.
That. Fucking. Rat.
Anger like he hadn't felt since he first got sentenced ripped through him. His hands were shaking, and he couldn't make them stop. His vision turned dark at the edges as he continued to stare at the picture. He would recognize Peter anywhere. Peter wasn't suffering somewhere at all. He was safe, warm, and pampered as some young wizards pet. Sirius realized he was biting his tongue so hard he started to bleed, he could taste the blood. He took a deep shuddering breath and forced his jaw to unclench, and willed his hands to stop shaking. Slowly, he regained control of himself, and his anger.
I will kill you, he thought staring at the little moving creature in the paper. He looked around at the walls that had imprisoned him for the past thirteen years. They suddenly didn't seem as an insurmountable challenge as they previously had. He will escape. It looks like he found his reason to live after all. Revenge.
The rain continued to fall, and the wind continued to howl ruthlessly around the prison. That dark forbidding prison, isolated on its rock in the sea. No one cared to look at Azkaban. No one saw the dog leap from the cliffs into the water.
That night, no innocent man stayed there.
AN: Aright guys, what do ya think? This one was shorter then what I usually write, but it felt like a good place to stop. Let me know your thoughts. Also if anyone has any 'B' suggestions, just holler, if not, I'm sure the Harry Potter books won't let me down. This is first thing I've written in years, so please let me know if you guys are interested.