Okay, well, I've started another fic. I've always really wanted to write one with Harry as a child, and with Sirius and Remus and Snape and everyone :) This WILL be a humor fic, trust me – I can't go without writing humor. It will have a lot of its dark parts, though I think this was the worst of it all anyway.
This is dedicated to one of my best friends, Christy, as her birthday gift. The whole story totally goes out to her!
Oh, and a disclaimer (and it applies to the whole fic!): I don't own anything but the plot! And even that has touches of Monster's Inc. brushing on it, however vaguely. Anyway….
chapter I
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in azkaban
Nightmares were common in Azkaban.
No….
In Azkaban, everyone had them. It was unavoidable; the Dementors made sure of it.
Please, stop….
In Azkaban, it was that which gave the prisoners their deadened look – the waxy skin and shuttered eyes.
James….
In Azkaban, no one could forget.
Lily….
In Azkaban, they were not prisoners to anything but their past.
No….
In Azkaban, everyone had scarred pasts.
No….
And as a result, nightmares were common in Azkaban.
***
Cornelius Fudge stormed into Azkaban, wanting to get the trip over and done with as fast as he could. He had much bigger problems to work on, especially one that had presented itself that very day. Not to mention that he didn't like the Azkaban guards. No one liked the guards, and simply, no one could quite like them – for they represented all the worst things in the world and inflicted a person's own terrors onto themselves. It was horrible – but necessary; yes, very necessary, as all the prisoners of Azkaban were horrible people who had done horrible things and deserved to live horrible lives.
The routine checks were required to see how the prisoners were coming along – whether they were being controlled, going mad – which ones needed to have the burials arranged before they died, to save time when they were done wasting away – things such as that.
Cornelius stopped at each cell, peering at each prisoner – repulsed by the hideous features he could make out in the poor lighting, all the more making him wish he could leave. He was disgusted by the wailings and shrieks and whimpers of the prisoners as much as he was disgusted by the utter silence of some, the fits of dazed staring at nothing and pressing themselves into corners. All of them were trapped in their insanity, and it was abhorrent to see.
"Yes, yes, very well," he said to the Dementors after observing a few of the more high-security prisoners. "Everything seems to be in order. If I could excuse myself – "
Both of the Dementors raised their putrid hands and pointed down the hall. They began to lead the way – and Cornelius, having very little choice in the matter, followed them down the way, his fear overwhelming his impatience. He would do as the Dementors wanted – and leave right after. No use getting the Dementors angry.
As they walked past the cells, wails followed after them – some angry, some desperate, some filled with indescribable emotions – and it was all Cornelius could do to ignore them. The Dementors finally paused and stopped at the very last cell of the wing. It was a large cell, and of the highest-level security.
Looking hard into the cell, Cornelius found himself staring into the dark eyes of one Sirius Black.
The look in Black's eyes was…pale, in comparison with what Cornelius had seen in those eyes not more than four years ago. Four years ago, when Cornelius had first met the young man, he had had bright eyes, full of fierce intelligence and vivid energy. The second and last time Cornelius had seen the man – a few hours prior to his trial that sent him here – he had a dull, lead expression. The eyes were cold and abandoned, bitter and aloof in their guilt.
But Black's were not like those of the others prisoners – they were not glazed and unfocused, they were not haphazard in the direction they saw – but they were directed right at him, right into his own eyes, looking and seeing and wondering what he was doing there.
Clearing his throat, Cornelius addressed the younger man. "Black."
After a moment, Cornelius was almost sure that he had imagined the sanity of the young man and was about to sigh and leave, when Black replied. "Fudge."
Cornelius glanced at Black sharply, his eyes narrowed slightly. "You seem to be taking the rigors of Azkaban in fine order."
Black laughed, and the sound sent shivers up Cornelius' spine. The laugh was just as cold and dead as the man's eyes. "I wouldn't call it 'taking it in fine order,' Fudge." The voice was ragged, cracking with the dry throat and years having gone without usage.
"Tell me, then," Cornelius said, afraid, but curious…. Dumbledore would have to be informed of this. "How have to managed to stay sane, Black?"
"Sane?" There was a strange tone in Black's voice now, as he repeated that word to himself. "Sane. I'm innocent, that's why, Fudge."
Cornelius took in a sharp breath, and stiffened. Innocent! Black was as guilty as anyone else in that prison, and he more than anyone else in there deserved Azkaban. Innocent indeed!
"You were a spy of the Dark Lord. You revealed the location of Lily and James Potter to him. You orphaned your own godson, and would have killed him, had the chance presented itself."
"Harry," Black muttered breathlessly, and Cornelius felt bile rise in his throat at the expression Black's pale face wore now – a look of longing, wild and uncontrollable….
"The boy is protected from you," Cornelius warned, urged by a sense of fear for the boy's protection. "You cannot reach the boy."
"Who is his caretaker?"
Pausing, wondering if it was an intelligent idea to reveal the fact to the prisoner, Fudge sighed deeply, and said, "His aunt and uncle."
"What?" Black snapped, his eyes wide. "His aunt and uncle? Those sorry excuses for muggles?"
"Calm down, Black, I'm warning you…."
"How could you have left him there?" Black hissed, his eyes darkening in their fury. "How could Dumbledore have left him there? He knows – Remus knows – Lily's sister hates magic – "
"And you think you would have done better, then?" Cornelius shot back in a hurry, trying to defend his position in the matter. "Would you rather have had us give him to you, Black? You, the traitor who would snap the child's neck as soon as you had him in your hands? You, who would have tossed him into the sea the moment you found a cliff? Is that what you wanted for him, Black?"
This seemed to deflate Black's anger, and he relaxed in his seated position, his growing lidded and their gaze directed on the floor. "I'm innocent," Black replied mulishly.
"In your own muddled mind," Cornelius said indignantly. "I have far more important matters to settle than speaking with you, Black."
He stood brusquely, fixing his jacket and top hat firmly on his head, and spared a last look and the sullen man. He looked away from the vile creature behind the bars, and something about the man's rather childish demeanor softened him enough to make admissions. He sighed.
"You're right, Black," he murmured after a moment. "I don't know what Dumbledore was thinking, leaving the boy with the muggles. A boy of such powerful blood should not be left in the care of those utterly without. No matter right now – the child somehow escaped the wards early this morning, and the entire Ministry is out there, trying to find him. I don't know why I ever wasted my time here."
Cornelius turned to the Dementors, nodded, and gruffly walked away, and he desperately tried to ignore the feeling that those dead eyes were following him as he did so.
***
Nightmares were common in Azkaban.
No….
In Azkaban, there was no one who was left unscarred by the traumas of their worst experiences relived.
Please, stop….
In Azkaban, the prisoners were tortured with the torture they themselves inflicted on others.
James….
In Azkaban, nothing was reality but their delusions.
Lily….
In Azkaban, people wretchedly lived on as they wasted away.
No….
In Azkaban, the hardest part of their punishment was being alive.
No….
Nightmares were common in Azkaban.
Harry….
in azkaban
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end