Sirius Black. Sirius Black. Padfoot. Best friend of James Potter. Prongs. Moony. Wormtail. Traitor. Remus, James, Lily, Peter. Traitor. Marauders. Prankster of Hogwarts. Gryffindor. Godfather of Harry. Secret Keeper. Innocent.
Sirius huddled in the cell repeating the chant, it was cold and damp, he had ragged dirty prison clothing on, screams echoed down the dark filthy terror ridden corridors. Voices bounced off the crumbling walls in his mind, voices that he recognised, Prongs, James.
'James.' Sirius clutched his knees and began rocking back and forth. His voice was hoarse and filled with anguish. 'James. Prongs. Merlin Prongs!'
A tear dropped from his black terror ridden eye. A sweep of coldness and misery echoed through the halls. In the distance Sirius could hear screams and moans of sadness. He shivered. Remus will come, Sirius thought, surely Remus knows that I'm innocent. Dumbledore. Remus knows. Moony.
'Prongs.' Sirius teeth chattered in the cold. He ceased any movement and became completely still. 'I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry James. I killed you. Lily. Harry. I'm so sorry.'
Swishes of dark material appeared down the corridor. He could hear Bellatrixs cackles of madness turn into shudders of emotional pain. 'They're coming Prongs. James they're coming.' Sirius huddled in the very corner, as far away from the corridor as possible, shivering with fear.
Sirius shuddered. Coldness swept through his heart, he felt like he could never be happy again. Images of James dying flash through his mind with the mantra: it's your fault. It's all your fault. Lily appears next to James dead twitching body shouting at him with her fiery red hair and emerald green eyes. Screaming that it's all his fault before she's dead as well. Dead, just like James. Remus just looks at him, in that sad disappointing fashion he always did back at Hogwarts, except now it's ten times worse, except now it isn't all fun and games and Remus won't roll his eyes at him playfully afterwards becuase this isn't Hogwarts, it isn't fun and games, this is life and it was all Sirius fault.
Sirius lets out a chocked sob and burys his head into his hands. A dementor stops by his cell for a special chat. Sirius could almost feel his soul leave his body. He deserves this, this is his punishment for James and Lily and Harry, poor poor Harry who was an orphan because of him.
Sirius Black. Sirius Black. Padfoot. Best friend of James Potter. Prongs. Moony. Wormtail. Traitor. Remus, James, Lily, Peter. Traitor. Part of the Marauders. Prankster of Hogwarts. Gryffindor. Godfather of Harry. Secret Keeper. Innocent.
Sirius repeated it in his head. Over and over again until the dementor left, bored with its prey, until the shudders stopped even though the shivers continued, until he could stop staring at that specific space on the wall. The wall in which he had carved: Sirius Black. Padfoot. Dog. Best man. Best friend. James Potter. Prongs. Stag. Husband. Remus Lupin. Werewolf. Lily Evens. Red. Green. Harry. Green. Black. Messy. Innocent. Innocent. Peter. Wormtail. Rat. Traitor.
He had carved those in the first week of being here even though the guards rolled their eyes and whispered, 'one gallon he'll be mad within the month,' and Rodolphus stared at him with dead painful black eyes and dear mad old Bellatrix laughed and cackled at him saying it doesn't matter, that it'll get you, that nothing will matter anymore. But Sirius will make it matter, he'll make sure that it mattered to him, because if that didn't matter anymore then nothing mattered. Then their deaths would have not been avenged and Sirius was going to average Lily and James if that was the last thing he did.
Sirius Black. James Potter. Wormtail. Traitor. Remus, James, Lily, Peter. Traitor. Part of the Marauders. Prankster of Hogwarts. Gryffindor. Godfather of Harry. Secret Keeper. Innocent.
A year past and the chant became muddled.
Sirius Black. James Potter. Wormtail. Traitor. Peter. Traitor. Marauders. Gryffindor. Godfather of Harry. Secret Keeper. Innocent. Rat.
Sirius realised he could turn into a dog and keep the pain off for a time before the dementors came again and sucked out all hope and happy thoughts. His mind became full of revenge. Revenge against a man he thought was dead. A man who was actually living a comfortable life in the Weasley family home residence being fed cheese by a young Percy Weasley.
Sirius Black. James Potter. Wormtail. Traitor. Peter. Traitor. Marauders. Gryffindor. Secret Keeper. Innocent. Rat. Rat.
Barry crouch junior was found dead in his cell but Sirius knows the feel of an invisibility cloak, it was like home to him, how many times had he snuck under there with James. James. A feeling of pain washed over him. He remembered the times when James and himself went underneath the cloak to go down into the kitchens or play pranks. So when Barty Crouch passed Sirius cell, Sirius knew that Barty junior was under the cloak. There was a way out of this, a way off this island, a way to finally kick Peters gravestone and kill him all over again. Sirius laughs his first but not his last, crazy mad laugh that made Bellatrix giggle with glee and shout: it's got him, it's got him!
Sirius Black. James Potter. Wormtail. Traitor. Peter. Traitor. Marauders. Innocent. Rat. Rat. Rat.
Revenge was all Sirius could think about. Revenge against Peter. Revenge against the person that had destroyed his world in one single day, in one single word. A small part off his brain tells him: Peters dead. You've killed him. You've blown him up. Have peace. Accept your fate. But Sirius never did things the right way, he was a Black, and Blacks listen to no one but themselves. Revenge began to boil against who he thought was a dead man.
One day after twelve years (not that he was counting) he saw the minister. It was that peacock Fudge. All good thoughts had nearly erupted from his head leaving only bitterness and anger and a vengeful spirit. Minister Fudge peered into his cell, a newspaper clutched tightly in his hand. Sirius could tell what he's thinking: that's the man that nearly ended the wiziding world. That's the man who was You-Know-Whos right hand man. That's the man who betrayed his friends and murdered them, laughing madly in their dead faces.
If James could see him now. A angry tortured soul sitting defeatedly in Askaban while that prat Fudge— a man that James had always hated— stands there infront of him smug. James wouldn't want him to act like this. He would want Sirius to surprise Fudge, to show him that Askaban will never dull his fire. It would be a prank. To pretend to be okay when he was dying inside. James always like pranks but Sirius wasn't sure if he would like this one.
Sirius stood up abruptly and walked towards the bar cells for the first time since he got here. It would be a prank. The first prank he's done in twelve years. He would show that idiot Fudge that askaban didn't affect him. The dementors are far far away, he could do this. He stood up, achky bones creaking, he put on a bored smile and a lazy shrug of his shoulders before leaning on the bar cells cleaning his cuticles acting like he was back at Hogwarts fooling Slughorn again, how many times had he got out of detention doing that? McGonagall always said how he was a good actor. The minister stared at him astounded, after all, Sirius Black did just act like a normal person in Askaban, a place where happiness is sucked out, a place people go to die. But everyone knew how Sirius Black doesn't do things the normal way.
'Got the morning paper Fudge?' Sirius asked, his voice cracked slightly from lack of use, he needs some water, he hadn't had pure water for a long time. Sirius looked up from his nails. The dementors were far far away and that makes it a little easier to act, a little easier to pretend to be okay. Would James be proud of this one last prank? He wasn't sure. Sirius pointed at the newspaper in his tightly clenched hand.
Fudge looked wary. After all, this is Askaban and people are meant to be mad.
'Yes.' Fudge said tersely. He makes a move to go and look at another dammed soul that was thrown in this hell hole.
'Can I have it?' Sirius asked. At Fudge's wary glance he expanded. 'I do miss doing the crossword. It actually gets boring here if you didn't know. No good conversations.' In the distance Bellatrix screams about the Dark Lord, Rodolpus stares with no emotion except anguish and Sirius Black the mass murderer, the man who supposedly killed thirteen muggles with a wave of his wand, a man who was ready to sell two of his best friends and kill the third for Voldemort, gives a devilish grin, his eyes glinting with an untold tale, a cackle is heard in the distance. Fudge nearly forgot Askaban was full of dangerous criminals.
Fudge whimpered and quickly handed the newspaper over. Sirius took it and flipped to the back not bothering to see the other pages, he's stuck in askaban, he won't need to know that Rita Skeeter would still be writing crap.
Sirius held an impatient waiting dirty hand out through the bars. Fudge stared at it as if it was a dangerous monster. 'Do you have a quill Minister?' An unsteady aristocratic eyebrow is raised. It's been such a long time since he had raised an eyebrow. 'The little things make the big picture.' Sirius remembers Lily said that once, a long time ago, now she doesn't say anything at all except in his nightmares where Sirius tosses and turns listening to angry voices, shouting and screaming at him.
Fudge floundered and started patting his pocket before evidently shaking his head. No. Sirius shrugged and lets his tired battered old mind memorise the blanks. It felt good, as McGonagall always said 'give you brains a work out.' Except that he hasn't worked his brain out for the last twelve years and he doesn't think McGonagall says that anymore.
'Hey Minister mate,' Fudge is still at Sirius's cell, still staring at him, still wondering if he'll start screaming like the usual prisoners. 'What's eight? What's Godrics animal descendant?' Sirius tapped the question with a long ragged filthy fingernail.
The sad thing is, Sirius should know this. He was in Gryffindor for merlins sake, at least that's what the carvings on the wall say. He can't remember doing them. He can't remember much anymore. All his memories are being sucked out, leaving only pain and misery and pain and so much pain.
'G-gryffin.' Fudge stuttered. He looks at Sirius fearfully as he wrote down the answer. Sirius forgot what a Gryffin even was, all his happy memories had been taken.
Sirius could feel beady eyes looking at him, staring at him wondering: what's wrong with him. Sirius lets a cackle escape at the thought and looked dead on Fudge with a challenging glare, he squeaked and ran away to the next cell. Sirius guessed he can keep the newspaper, folding it up and placing it onto his bed once he'd finished.
That night the dementors came again and again and again. Probably to make up for the lost time that day when the Ministry came. Sirius screamed and moaned and buried his head in his hands wishing it to end. Wishing for the pain to stop. Wishing to be reunited with James again. James. James. James is all he could remember. James, best friend, prongs. All he could remember is James dying because of Sirius. Peter. A rat formed in his mind as the dementors stood outside his cell searching for an inkling of happy thoughts, but there were none, all of them had been cruedly stolen.
Sirius transformed into a dog and the pain faded but only for a while because it's always there. The pain is always at the back of his mind. It doesn't go away. It never goes away. It's always there. Reminding him that it's his fault. Padfoot snuffled and whined and the dementors eventually move.
Pasfoot lay still on the cold damp dirty stone floor for a while, not having the strength to get back up, looking dead. Sirius eventually transforms back and lies shuddering with terse breaths on his ratty looking bed. A newspaper lies on the covers, folded gently with crinkles in its pages. Sirius can't sleep so in the half dying light of the moon he read the Daily Prophet but at the first page he stopped and remembered, remembered something new for the first time.
He's looking at the weasley family. A memory is brought up from the depth of his mind, James and himself teaching the oldest son how to play pranks in a order meeting. What was his name again. Will? William? Bill? He doesn't remember. Now they have seven kids. Sirius doesn't smile, he never smiles anymore, smiling means being happy and Sirius is never happy. He doesn't deserve to be happy after what he's done.
He's about to flip through the pages before a image caught his eye. A red-haired, long-nosed, freckled-faced boy is on the front cover, arms around an older brother, smiling happily, and on his shoulder is a rat. A rat. A brown flea bitten rat that looks incredibly familiar. A rat that he recognises. A rat that's missing a toe. Wormtail.
No. No. He's dead. I killed him. Thoughts raced through Sirius head as he clutched the newspapers tightly, the edges ripping. But he knows Peter. Peter was once his friend. Once one of his best friends. He would recognise Wormtail anywhere. How many times had he, Prongs, and Moony ran in the light of the full moon with him. All that was left of Peter was a toe, a distant voice reminds him. That rat was missing a toe. Wormtail was still alive. And he's at HOGWARTS. He had been having the time of his life while he, Sirius, was stuck here in this miserable godforsaken hellhole. That rat. That sneaky BASTARD!
Revenge boiled inside him and Sirius lay still on the bed with angry quiet shock. His left eye twitched and suddenly with a loud throaty yell he flung himself at the wall, screaming and kicking. Guards came but Sirius could not calm down, how could he calm down? Sirius had believed Peter to be dead for twelve years. The other prisoners began to make a racket as well, yelling with excitment, this is the first real outbreak that had happened since Bellatrix. Sirius began throwing things at the wall shouting, his voice hoarse with tears streaming down his face as his world turned upside down.
'That RAT! THAT SNEAKYBASTARD. HE'S AT HOGWARTS! I'LL KILL HIM. I WILL KILL HIM. HE'S AT HOGWARTS. HOW DARE HE. HE'S A HOGWARTS. HE SHOULD'VE DIED! I'LL KILL HIM! I'LL MAKE HIM PAY!' Sirius yelled and screamed and hollered and cried.
Sirius flung himself at the bar cells again and again, the bars shaking every time. Angry guttural animalistic sounds came from his mouth in anguish ridden screams and yells. Vengeful tears ran down his face in a stream creating silvery clean lines on his dirty face. The prisoners cheered him on, shouting jeering insults and comments at him. Bellatrix cackled, 'He's lost it. He's finally lost it!' Sirius didn't listen, he was lost in his own little world of pain and betrayal and revenge as he threw himself at the cell bars again and again and again, screaming.
That RAT! His mind raged. It should be Peter in here. The other inmates yells and jeers became white noise as a pure blood-red haze filled his vision. As Sirius crashes into the bars, shaking and shuddering, his mind is focused on one single point. Kill Peter. Kill the Rat, kill Wormtail. He's at Hogwarts, get to Hogwarts and kill him. Kill him for all the terrible deeds he has done. Kill him for his betrayal against his family. Kill him for taking everything away from Sirius.
That night Sirius slept as Padfoot in the very far corner, plotting. Plotting to kill. Plotting to escape. The dementors came and Padfoot whined and howled, his paws scrabbling at something to hold onto as mind took him someplace else that held waiting demons. The dementors never noticed a thing. They couldn't sense animals. A thought entered Sirius's mind, the first ray of hope that couldn't be extinguished by the dementors.
It started when Sirius starved himself. The guards would push him gruesome meals underneath the newly fixed bars, looking at him warily and whispering. The meals would come back uneaten, barely touched, not that Sirius wanted to eat them anyway, it was always covered in flies. The guards didn't care, the guards never cared, who cared about the murderers anyway. His tummy grumbled and his mouth salivated but he refused to eat. It started paying off bit by bit. The ribs started becoming more and more pronounced, the fingers became more and more delicate. Sirius never knew how being weightless felt. It disgusted him to see himself this way, but it was for a good cause.
By night when he slept he dreamed of Hogwarts, of Wormtail and the first blood shed. The first blood of the guilty. He dreamed of killing Wormtail, of regaining his freedom. All he had to do was go to Hogwarts. He was at Hogwarts. Other times he would toss and turn and nightmares invaded his vision. Nightmares of James lying dead on the floor, calling to Sirius, pleading with him, blaming him. It's all your fault. It's all your fault.
When he couldn't sleep, Sirius did push-ups. One, two, three, four... Thirty, thirty one, thirty two, Sirius counted and panted and huffed but he got there. He was getting stronger, getting strong enough to escape. The image of Wormtail happily living fuelled his revenge, his revenge to kill. To murder someone for real this time. To make sure that this time, the rat wouldn't get away.
By the end of the month he was ready. One night Sirius was so skinny and starved that as a dog he slipss out of the bars and dementors reach and stole away into the black smothering darkness that he called a friend. He was only a slip of a thing, only skin and bones and few muscles. The dementors paid no attention to Padfoot and all the guards where asleep in fitful nightmares, after all, who had happy thoughts in askaban?
The coldness grabbed him and never let him go as he dived into the icy Black Sea. The freezing water threatened to drown him and Padfoot could barely keep his head over the waves, many times he felt like he could just give up, give up now and see James, but Sirius never gave up, he was a Black for merlins sake and Blacks don't give up so easily. He was on a mission to kill. The cold water swam underneath him and Padfoot choked and struggled and paddled to the bright far away lights. His paws kicked and and pulled and he willed the ice cold water to carry him home, to land and that it did.
It felt like an eternity until Padfoot landed gasping and choking on a pearly-white sandy beach. Green trees lined the sand and Sirius never wanted to see the sea again. It was the middle of the night and stars shone brightly as a old lone man walking along the deserted beach reached out and gently guided him back to his shack where Padfoot had a warm home for the night, the first time in twelve years. The next morning, the old man woke to find Padfoot gone, as well as most of the food.
That night was the first night Padfoot ate a rat. The next he scavenged off garbage. Padfoot looked and stole newspapers, laughing at the currant events going on.
Slowly Padfoot regained his memory. He remembered good times with Remus, dancing with the werewolf, laughing with Lily over breakfast and teasing James in the Order, he remember pranking, he remembered the exact colour of Remus's hair, the precise shade of Lily's emerald green eyes, how James hair looked in the morning before he styled it, Harry's laugh as he rode a toy broom, and with precise accuracy he remembered all of Peters weaknesses and downfalls. Padfoot growled and pushed on harder.
Every day he would remember something more. He thought of everything Peter had take away from him. His family, his home, his reputation, everything. Padfoot wanted to claim it back.
Harry. Harry. Harry Potter. Harry was still alive. He would be thirteen now. Third year in Hogwarts. It should be the summer holidays now. Where is Harry? Padfoots paws scrabbled through the bakery's bins. He was in the west coast of Wales, by the famous long sandy beaches that Sirius had started hating so much, it was also famous for its haunting ghosts which Sirius could also relate too. He had many ghosts, most of those which still haunt him.
Harry. He won't be living with Remus, Dumbledore wouldn't allow him to, Remus was a werewolf. Remus also wouldn't allow himself to take care of Harry, probably sure that he would hurt him. Padfoot snorted. He was always so self-deprecating, is he still like that now? A lot of time has passed. Padfoot dug into stale bread with great gusto. What idiot would throw out stale bread? Sirius was glad that they did.
Harry wouldn't be living with Dumbledore. James didn't have any relatives and Lily didn't either. Sirius frowned tearing a chunk out of the bread while sitting in the shade of a willow tree on a park bench thinking. Or did she? Sirius recalled their wedding. Their was that horse-faced woman that was talking trash about lily down at the drinks table, and James did say with a rude glare in her direction that she was Lily's sister. Sirius thought he was joking at the time, that woman looked nothing like Lily. Lily was beautiful with a lovely mane of red hair and pretty green eyes while that lady was had mustard blonde hair, big protruding teeth, long neck and horse-like features.
Hagrid. Hagrid said something to him about Harry twelve long years ago on the night of the Potters deaths, when Sirius gave him his bike. The day when Sirius last held Harry. The day Sirius last saw James and Lily. The day that was Sirius's lasts. That day was the last of a lot of things. It was an ending of a chapter of some soughts.
What did Hagrid say? He said something about Harry's relatives. Sirius looked on as a little boy shouted with glee as his father picked him up. Didn't Hagrid say something about Little Whinging? Little Whiningham?
Padfoot growled and pushed on. Seemed like he had a lot of lost time to make up for.