An Unexpected Visitor
By EmptyWord
Author's Notes: I've had this for a while on my computer. It's an accompaniment to a bigger work—which requires a great deal more time and effort (for which I'm not sure I can give at the moment). But here's this one anyway. I loved writing it, and I hope you'll enjoy reading it.
Disclaimers: The wonderful world of Harry Potter is the property of J.K. Rowling, Bloomsbury Publishing, Scholastic Press, Allen & Unwin, Raincoast Books, and others I may have missed. I have no claims on it. For this fanfiction, however, the character Sadie belongs solely to me.
The lights flickered on, blindingly bright compared to the absolute darkness a second ago.
Sirius squeezed his eyes shut, his eyes burning from the sudden radiance. It was the first bit of light after months of darkness. The lights were only ever on when someone came to see one of the prisoners in Azkaban, which was a rare enough occurrence. The visitor was probably that bumbling fool Fudge again. It was him last time, when he'd come to dawdle around, peering at Sirius when he thought the prisoner wasn't watching.
Tentatively, he opened his bleary eyes, but he didn't bother to look up as the footsteps neared his cell. It was certainly not going to be a visitor for him. No one cared about an insane dark wizard who'd killed thirteen people and laughed about it. Except perhaps for Fudge, who was only concerned because Sirius wasn't screaming in agony like the rest of the loony prisoners.
The footsteps stopped right outside his cell, followed by a long silence.
He frowned, but his gaze remained on the dirty floor. Who was it? And why was he just standing there?
There was a rustle of clothing, and the presence seemed to move closer. The shadows shifted in the wavering light, a rather strange phenomenon to one who hadn't seen light for months.
He was curious, despite himself, but still refused to lift his head. If anyone was here to talk to him, they could initiate the conversation. If they were here to stare at him, they could stare away for all he cared. There was no need for him to make eye contact.
Then, in the thick silence, a soft voice whispered "Sirius," and before he could reconsider it, his eyes had lifted of their own accord.
His vision was poor; his eyes had not been needed for a while. Blinking quickly, he tried to make out the dark figure hovering beyond the bars of his cesspit cell. It looked like a woman, of medium height and with long black hair. As his eyes focused, he recognized the proud nose, the full lips, the strong chin, all trademark features of the Black family. In fact, the dark eyes that stared back at him resembled his own so much that he might well have been looking in a mirror. This was none other than the daughter of his father's brother: Sadie Black.
He narrowed his eyes, wondering what she was doing here. He hadn't seen any of his family in years, hadn't thought of them in years. Sadie had been one of his more humane cousins, in the sense that she hadn't joined Lord Voldemort in his rise to power. Otherwise, she rather took after the rest of the family, meddling in the Dark Arts and delighting in the torture of Muggles and Mudbloods. She'd certainly never cared for anyone else but herself, least of all Sirius. So, what reason did she have to be here? What did she want with him?
He heard a small plop, like the first drop of rain hitting the ground, and realized with astonishment that she had begun crying. Tears slipped from her moist eyes and fell glimmering in the air. He watched each tear with disbelieving eyes: he had to be hallucinating.
His cousin slowly fell to her knees, clutching at the bars between them as she would a lifeline and gazing at him with equally desperate eyes. He'd never seen such an expression on her before, nor, indeed, on any of his relatives. The Blacks were never very impressed with helplessness.
"Sirius," she said again, and the mournful note in her voice disturbed him. "Oh, Sirius, I'm so sorry." More tears fell.
He could only stare at her, confused and suspicious. Besides, he wasn't even sure he could talk. His voice was another function that hadn't gotten a lot of practice lately.
"I ought to have stood up for you. I ought to have told those Aurors that they'd gotten the wrong man, that you'd never betray your best friend and you certainly wouldn't cold-heartedly kill thirteen people. I ought to have done something!" Her eyes were wide now, almost wild.
What? Since when do you care? Sirius wanted to ask her, but he couldn't form the words. His disbelief must have shown though because she suddenly regained control of herself. Her eyes hardened.
"Don't judge me as you judge your mother. She was a sick lady, too wrought up in her righteous, old-fashioned world to feel much compassion for anyone who thought differently. Most of the family was. But that's no reason to label the rest of us with the same sin, Sirius..."
He snorted, or he tried to at least, but all that came out was a grunt that didn't sound remotely derisive. Yet again, Sadie seemed to understand him, if her indignation was any indication.
"It's the truth, whether you see it or not! You, of course, were always the most different, but Andromeda too resisted the family tradition of marrying purebloods, Narcissa helped that Mudblood Erick in her fifth year, and I..."
"You practiced the Dark Arts," Sirius rasped, surprised he could speak the words at all.
Sadie ducked her head slightly. "I never did actually." She looked back into his eyes, her own now clear of tears but still strangely warm. "Believe it or not, I might even have joined the Order of the Phoenix, against Voldemort. You're not the only one with a heart." She waited for him to contradict her, but he didn't.
She continued, "When the Aurors went to take you prisoner, I was watching. I knew you were innocent, are innocent. You don't deserve this. And I'm sorry for that." There was an intensity in her voice then, not quite a remorse but an empathy.
"You came...only to say that?" He coughed, his raw throat unused to the exercise it was being put through. Come to think of it, his mind was having the same trouble processing what it was hearing.
Her eyes glimmered, and they had never looked more like his own than right then, no matter how much he'd rather not have anything to do with her. "I...guess I did. And I wanted to see how you were. Silly, really. Who could feel well in a place like this?" A shadow crossed her face. "But you seem...you seem alive."
Sirius raised his eyebrows. "I'm certainly not in a coffin yet."
"No," she agreed, acknowledging his quip with a nod. "And you're not going into one without a fight, are you?"
They watched each other in silence for a while, not quite in friendly companionship but at least they weren't tearing out each other's throats, as was wont to happen whenever Sirius had a run-in with his cousins. Sirius knew the absurdity of the situation, a Black coming to apologize and then actually conversing with him politely? He hadn't expected this any more than he'd expect Snape to befriend him (or for the oily git to start washing his hair, at that). And yet, looking into his cousin's eyes, Sirius suddenly recognized the haunted look in them. Eyes like his in more ways than mere appearance. Sadie Black hadn't had an easy childhood either.
He studied her, the enormity of his last thought outweighing his hostility toward her. And for the first time in a long while, Sirius thought to measure one of his relatives in a more favorable light.
His rumination was shattered, however, when a cold wind swept the air around him. The chilling horror rapidly pervading the air was by now too familiar to Sirius for him to be much surprised. But he was surprised. He'd forgotten about the dementors, which was a first. They'd want to know why the lights had lit up of course, who the visitor was. Somehow, he didn't think Sadie had arrived at Azkaban with trumpets blaring.
Sadie felt the change in temperature too, for she started violently, and when he looked at her, he found her trembling with the most terrified expression he'd seen on her yet. She was cringing, a dread in her eyes that accented the shadows already in them.
Sadie's afraid of dementors, terrified... He didn't know what to make of it, didn't know exactly what it meant. But it made her human in a way that even her tears and her confession hadn't.
The dementor appeared, tall, foreboding, gliding across the prison corridor and dimming the already failing light with its mere presence. The shifting shadows quickened their pace and drew closer together, so that the light narrowed into thin, sporadic splotches.
A whimper escaped Sadie's lips and her eyes locked onto the Dark creature, seemingly unable to look away.
But then...how'd she get here? Why did she come here, with the risk of meeting a dementor? Is she that adamant to apologize to me? I don't believe it... Sirius frowned, fighting back his own reaction to the dementor's power. He needed a clear head to think! But maybe now wasn't the right time for thinking anyway—he certainly had time enough for that later.
The dementor had stopped in front of Sadie. It loomed ominously over her, reeking of danger and evil. One of its molted hands appeared from its robes and reached down for her, each skeletal finger glistening in the sudden dark.
Sadie's mouth opened in a scream, but no sound came out. Sirius reached over urgently and grabbed her hand, which was clinging harder than ever to the bars of his cell.
"The Patronus Curse!" he hissed at her, almost angrily. "Damnit, use the Patronus!"
She pulled out her wand with shaky fingers and waved it at the dementor, all the while whispering, "Expecto Patronum, Expecto Patronum, Expecto Patronum…" Wispy, silvery stuff drifted from her wand, but the dementor easily batted it away.
Sadie turned towards him in despair and he read the answer in those eyes that he only now knew had suffered more than even he had. It wasn't a matter of not knowing how to perform the spell. It was more a matter of not having the happy memories to use for the spell.
But how can she not have happy memories? That's...not possible!
Putting aside his questions, Sirius reached out quickly and snatched Sadie's wand from her hand. Thinking of one of the happiest summers at James' house, he croaked as loud as he could, "Expecto Patronum!"
A glimmering silver dog shot at the dementor and forced it away. Even though the dementor trailed back down the corridor and some of the darkness melted away, Sadie didn't stop shaking.
She needed to get away, Sirius knew, and it finally dawned on him why. He remembered one encounter with Sadie's older sister, who'd let slip that her little sibling was "serving her punishment in Azkaban for over-indulging in the Dark Arts." He hadn't thought much of it at the time, but now, he wondered if Azkaban's dementors hadn't had a lasting impact on Sadie.
"Sadie," Sirius started, his confusion demanding answers. But one look at her crumpled figure stopped him. Despite all the intense emotions and questions clashing within him, even he knew the subtlety between burdening someone and over-burdening someone.
She looked at him shakily, and at the wand in his hand. "You could...you could get away now."
"But they'll think you came here to let me out and likely throw you—" he swallowed the 'back' that was about to leave his mouth "—in Azkaban for aiding a Death Eater." And on account of this new side of you I've yet to figure out, I won't land you in Azkaban with me...yet. What exactly had she done to earn time in prison? Sirius tossed the wand back to her. "You'd better get out of here before another dementor comes along."
And the dementors would come, no doubt about that. It wasn't the brightest of tactics to attack a dementor with the Patronus Curse, especially in consideration of their location right then.
Sadie was still trembling, but she stood up slowly, her hand still on the bar of his cell. In stark contrast with her helplessly dropping to her knees, this rise up was every inch determined and firm. She had her defenses up now, Sirius was glad to see. No weaknesses for the Black family. Except a weakness or two in their case might have been a good thing.
"You'll do fine, Sirius," Sadie said, black eyes impenetrable. "Even here, you'll do fine...because you're innocent." She hesitated a moment, and then, "I wasn't."
He wondered if his eyes were deceiving him, but he thought he saw that slight uplifting in the corners of her mouth that would indicate a half-smile on anyone else, but on her was a miracle.
Awhile after she slipped away, rather in a hurry, the lights went out. In the customary dark, Sirius was left only with the gruesome cries of his fellow cellmates and his own thoughts, which had grown decidedly more interesting, just a notch.
Lady E.
July 25, 2004
