House: Gryffindor
Position: HoH
Category: Theme (Understanding)
Prompt: White
Word Count (excluding header, warning, and author's note): 2096
Betas: Shibalyfe and Tigger
WARNING: Schizophrenic delusions and hallucinations resulting from prolonged incarceration, eating disorder
AN- I made a few assumptions for this story. 1) Sirius's cell was very close to the Lestranges and Barty Crouch Jr. 2) Sirius escaped Azkaban on July 1, 1993. From HP canon, we know that it happened in July, but not the exact date. 3) I calculated the days using an online date tracker and November 1, 1981 as Day One.
The italicized lyrics are from White Room by Cream.
Day One
"I'M INNOCENT!" Sirius screamed as he was shoved into a cell in the lifetime confinement wing of Azkaban. "It was that rat, Pettigrew. He's the one who did it, not me!"
The tough looking Auror spat in Sirius's face before he slammed the door. "I knew you were one of his! Everyone did. There's no such thing as a good Black."
"You don't understand," Sirius cried. "Just let me speak to Remus. Or Dumbledore even! I can explain everything. You've made a mistake; you have the wrong man!"
The Auror laughed cruelly. "The only mistake we're making is not giving you the Dementor's Kiss right now. But it's only a matter of time before you're begging for death. No one lasts long in Azkaban. Well, no one's mind lasts long in here." He chuckled with more than a hint of malice. "Enjoy your solitary confinement."
Sirius screamed and smashed his fist into the wall. "Somebody listen to me! You've got the wrong person. It was Pettigrew. The dirty rat is still out there. He's the one who betrayed Lily and James. He's the one who blew up the Muggle street. You've got to find him and make him pay. You've got to believe me!"
His pleas for understanding went unheard.
Day Two
Sirius paced his small bleak cell. The dark grey walls seemed to trap the chill of the bitter, ocean air. The looming presence of the Dementors seemed to suck the oxygen from his cage.
Once again, he loudly pronounced his innocence. Once again, no one responded. There was no sound but the whistle of the wind and the crash of the waves against the fortress.
He was alone.
Day Eighty One
Sirius longed for the silence of his early days in Azkaban. About a month ago, the Aurors had carted in a load of Death Eaters and shoved them into the adjacent cells.
Sirius recognized the shrieks of his cousin, Bellatrix. The madness of Azkaban would not affect her; she was already insane. The shouts of the Lestrange brothers and their conspirators echoed off the walls.
He no longer cried out about Pettigrew nor proclaimed his innocence. In fact, he had been silent since the Death Eaters were brought in. He did not wish them to know he was here. He wouldn't give the damned Aurors the satisfaction of seeing him interact with Voldemort's puppets. It would only serve to prove his so-called affiliation with the group.
But Sirius wasn't a Death Eater, no matter what they said. He was an innocent man, thrown to Azkaban without trial for a heinous crime while the perpetrator scurried around undetected.
Even if no one else would listen to him, he knew the truth. And he knew that someday, somehow, the truth would set him free.
But for now, he was alone in his grey cell.
I'll wait in this place where the sun never shines
Wait in this place where the shadows run from themselves
Day Two Hundred and Seventy Two
Sirius sang quietly to himself. Today was Harry's second birthday. Sirius should have been there with him to celebrate.
He and his friends would have gathered around a table strewn with streamers and baubles charmed to float. James would have cast a charm on the birthday candles that made them glow brighter everytime young Harry tried to blow them out. Lily would have laughed and snapped pictures for their family photo album.
Remus would have insisted on cleaning up the decorations while Sirius snuck the birthday boy out to the yard for a spin on his new toddler broom. Harry would have giggled and screamed in delight as he zoomed through the gardens; everyone would have recognized that he was a future Quidditch prodigy in the making.
If he shut his eyes, Sirius could picture the scene so clearly.
But when he opened his eyes, he was alone in his pale grey cell.
Day Four Hundred and Thirteen
The Death Eaters had gone quiet, aside from Bellatrix's occasional cackles and screams. Even those were less frequent, Sirius noted.
A Ministry worker and his wife had visited an inmate during the previous week. Sirius was surprised that even Bellatrix was subdued in her proclamations about Voldemort and his "noble work". In the past, Bellatrix would have screeched and swore at anyone who dared to walk by. But that was no longer the case.
The visitors only stayed for a few minutes and then they left as quietly as they'd come.
The inmate they visited died this morning. Well, Sirius assumed it had been this morning. The inmate had gone completely silent since the visit, so he could have been dead in his cell for days until the Dementor finally swept by.
No one said a word as the body was removed. Even Bellatrix was silent.
Sirius wondered if Barty Crouch Jr's walls had turned light grey, too.
Day One Thousand Three Hundred and Eight
The Dementors had very curious abilities, Sirius decided.
They could suck the oxygen from the room.
They could drag the happy thoughts from his head and replace them with bleakness and despair.
They could make the color drip and fade from the walls until nothing was left but white.
A white room where he was all alone with nothing but his thoughts for company.
Day Two Thousand One Hundred and Forty Three
Sirius wasn't alone anymore. His old dear friend, Padfoot, had joined him in the cell. He wasn't sure when Padfoot had arrived. It was very strange that the Aurors would have put a friend in with him. Wasn't he supposed to be in solitary confinement?
Sirius woke one morning to find Padfoot reclining on the opposite end of the cell. The dog's shaggy black fur stood out against the stark, white walls of the cell.
But Sirius wasn't going to complain now that he had a friend to talk to. A friend who believed that he was innocent. A friend who was motivated to make Pettigrew pay for the lives he had destroyed. James. Lily. Harry. The Muggles on the street. Sirius.
I'll wait in the queue when the trains come back
Lie with you where the shadows run from themselves
Day Three Thousand Six Hundred and Fifty Two
"Do you want some food, Padfoot?" Sirius offered a slice of his delicious roast beef dinner. The kitchens at Hogwarts had been really outdoing themselves recently.
"No thank you, Sirius," Padfoot replied. "You need it more than I do."
Sirius's face broke into a toothy grin. "There's plenty for both of us. Besides, if we finish up this lot, we can just pop down to the kitchens, pay the house-elves a visit, and get some more later. I wonder if there'll be treacle tart. It's James's favorite, you know?"
Padfoot shook his head. "There's no treacle tart, Sirius."
"No? Too bad. Pumpkin pasties are pretty damn good too."
Padfoot barked. "Snap out of it, Sirius! Look around! We're not at Hogwarts!"
"What are you talking about Padfoot? Of course we're..." he trailed off.
Before his eyes, the Great Hall faded away. In its place, a bright, white room emerged. The sumptuous roast beef feast he had been enjoying morphed into a stale crust of bread and some gloppy porridge.
"We're in Azkaban," Sirius stated.
"No, Sirius. You're in Azkaban. I'm just in your mind."
"How is that possible? I'm not crazy!" Sirius insisted.
"You needed me, so I came," Padfoot explained. "You're going to go completely mad unless you talk to someone."
"I'm stronger than that," Sirius huffed, indignantly.
"No, Sirius," Padfoot sighed, "You're not. Right now, I'm the only one who could possibly understand you. I'm the only person you've got who knows you're innocent. You've been in here for ten years."
"Ten years?" Sirius asked. "Has it really been that long? Harry must have started at Hogwarts by now. I should be with him, not stuck in here." Sirius was beginning to feel agitated, which was a big improvement over his usual state of feeling nothing.
"Then let's think of a way to clear your name," Padfoot urged.
"The only way that's possible is to prove that Pettigrew is the one who was guilty. And to prove that, we need to prove that he's alive."
Padfoot nodded. "He's probably hiding out as Wormtail, like the dirty rat he is."
"How the hell are we going to catch him?" Sirius asked. "It's not as though I can just waltz out of Azkaban to go searching for an unregistered Animagus mass murderer."
Padfoot conceded, "That is true."
"And the Aurors will never believe me. They didn't then and they certainly won't now. Besides, I haven't even seen an Auror walk down the corridor in a year."
"Think of something else, Sirius," Padfoot encouraged. "You have to do this for James and Lily. For Harry and Moony. For yourself."
Sirius cocked his head to the side as a crazy idea entered his mind. "I can't leave here, but maybe you can."
Padfoot's head tilted in a questioning manner which mirrored Sirius.
"If I cut back on eating, I bet I can lose enough weight so that you can squeeze through the bars on my door."
"That could work," said Padfoot, "But I have no idea where to even begin to look for Wormtail. He doesn't have you or James to hide behind anymore. He couldn't risk going to Remus or else his ruse will be exposed. And his master is dead."
Sirius shook his head. "I don't know, Padfoot. He could be anywhere. He could be dead by now, and the truth along with him."
"You can't lose hope, Sirius. Hope is all you have left in this place. Without it, you have nothing but whiteness to look forward to."
Sirius thought about that for a moment. He stared at the bleak wall on the opposite side of his cell. It appeared a little more grey than it had this morning. Hope.
Sirius patted his thighs and stood. "So we wait and we plan. Just don't leave me Padfoot. You're the only one who understands. You'll stay with me?"
Padfoot loyally came to Sirius's side. "Until the very end."
I'll sleep in this place with the lonely crowd
Lie in the dark where the shadows run from themselves
Day Four Thousand Two Hundred and Sixty
"Sirius," Padfoot nudged his muzzle into Sirius's neck. The emaciated man was exhausted; his caloric intake allowed for only a few semi-conscious hours per day. "Wake up, Sirius. You need to read this."
Sirius yawned and stretched, his joints popping. "What is it, Padfoot?"
Padfoot picked up a copy of the Daily Prophet and dropped it in Sirius's lap.
"Where'd you get a copy of the Prophet?" Sirius asked.
"The was a recent inquiry into the Death Eaters next door. The Ministry sent some young investigator in to try to get information out of them—fat lot of good that did them. Anyway, the official left his paper behind. I managed to snag it before the Dementors came through."
Sirius smiled. "Is there news about Harry? Or Remus?"
Padfoot shook his head. "Just look at the article below the fold on the front cover."
Sirius smoothed the paper out on his cot and read, "Daily Prophet Grand Prize Galleon Draw Winner Takes Family On Holiday to Egypt." Sirius gazed up at Padfoot. "Well that's lovely for the Weasleys. I know from the previous papers we've managed to grab that their youngest boy is friends with Harry. Good for them."
Padfoot nodded. "But look at the photograph."
Sirius's eyes returned to the paper. He scanned over the red-headed clan against a backdrop of the Great Pyramids of Giza. One by one, he studied the family members until he reached the youngest son, Ron. The one Sirius knew was Harry's friend. Atop his shoulder was a familiar looking animal. Sirius picked the paper up and held it mere inches from his nose. The rat perched on Ron's shoulder was missing a toe.
"Wormtail," Padfoot snarled when it was clear Sirius had identified their former friend. "Ready to clear your name and make everyone understand?"
With a curt nod, Sirius summoned all of his inner strength and transformed into Padfoot. His skin and bones form allowed him to easily fit through the cell door bars and leave the bleakness of his twelve year existence behind.
He ran through the maze-like corridors of Azkaban and burst out the front door into an explosion of color from the world outside.
Hope.