Sirius Black writhed on the ground of the cold and tenebrous basement as the fire spread through his veins. The pain would not stop. The fire kept spreading. His voice had gone about an hour ago, so now only rasps came as he tried to yell the agony consumed him inch by horrifying inch. Eventually, it was too much, and he passed out for the third time that day.
"Aguamenti," he was awoken by a familiar voice and a jet of water hitting him straight in the face. "Do not for one moment think that you can hide within unconsciousness you bastard." The cold tone was covered in glacial hatred.
"Bastard?" Sirius managed to get out before vomiting beside where he lay. "You shouldn't speak," he tried to get up and face his assailant but stumbled back to the ground, "to your son that way." Sirius looked up from the stone ground, his usually lustrous dark hair matted with blood, to gaze with all the defiance he could muster at his attacker.
"You're no son of mine." The tall figure smirked back. He as a strange reflection of Sirius in appearance, similar black hair and handsome face, yet his face replaced the mirth and mischievous glint that Sirius possessed for an air of superiority and wickedness. "Crucio." The man whispered and he pointed his wand at Sirius. As Sirius began to howl hollowly with no voice and roll about in pain, the man smiled at his eldest son for the first time.
"Orion!" A nervous shriek echoed down to the basement of 12 Grimmauld Place. "There are ministry aurors here! They're asking about the blood traitor." Walburga black refused to call Sirius by his name anymore, now only referring to him as "blood traitor".
"Very well." Orion said simply, "We shall pick up from here after I deal with this nuisance." He seemed honestly annoyed that he was interrupted from torturing his child. Sirius, for his part, merely lay there, trying not to black out again. He barely heard his fathers footsteps disappear upstairs. He tried to drag himself away, but between the constant pain he felt from the curses, and the lack of food he had been given, he was too weak.
"Well," he thought to himself, "I always did say my family would be the death of me." At this point he just wished they would get on with it. At first they tortured him, asking why he had come back and if he was with the order. Black didn't even know what order they were talking about. After it was apparent he knew nothing about any order, they tortured him just for fun, or for revenge for betraying the family, or just because they were so bloody evil. It didn't matter to him, he was too weak to fight or run. He just hoped they would kill him soon.
Sirius was distracted by a sudden crack that came from his side. The ancient looking house elf Kreacher stood next to him, no doubt to gloat. Sirius would usually berate him, once he got his breath back, he may try and command the house elf to kill him, if for no other reason that to deny his father or mother the pleasure. Yet the elf did not speak to him at all. It just kept muttering to himself.
"Must do as master commanded. Yet master commanded Kracher to be silent. Must obey master, but must stay silent. Must help master Sirius. Kreacher wants Sirius to die though. But Kreacher must." Finally, after his emotional battle with himself seemed to be over, Kreacher did the unimaginable. He took out Sirius's wand and dropped it next to him before another sudden loud crack saw him disappear.
Sirius couldn't believe his luck. He couldn't believe any of this. Part of him thought he was dying and that this was just a final happy hallucination before the end. Yet, with an outstretched hand he held his wand, and it felt real enough. For the first time in two days, Sirius felt a flame of hope erupt in his heart. He had to act quickly. He healed as many of his cuts and wounds as he could, knowing he would need every once of strength to make a break for it and disapparate once he was outside.
After finally feeling strong enough, he clamped his wand between his teeth and prayed that his terrible excuse for a plan would work. Slowly, he crawled on to his hands and knees, and began to change. His face elongated, his black hair seemed to spread around his entire body until he was no longer a young man but a massive black dog. With his wand in his mouth he bolted up the stairs. To his horror, his mother was in the kitchen, using the cruciatis curse of Kreacher to punish him for abandoning his post. When she turned to see the black dog, she immediately raised her wand to kill it, having now idea her son was an animagus.
Sirius did the only thing he could, he jumped through the nearest window, cutting himself deeply in several places and hurting his front paw as he landed. The pain was so much he transformed back into a human, laying on the ground and holding his right wrist where it had broken. Before his mother or father could chase him, he thought of the only safe place he had ever known. The world seemed to spin around him, and the stone sidewalk from behind their house gave way to grass. He struggled to get up; taking his wand from his mouth, knowing it was only a matter of time before his family followed him. He had to get inside. He was losing blood from his cuts; he couldn't call for help because his voice was gone. Instead he just limped toward the front door.
He reached the door and banged on it with all the strength he could muster, leaving bloody handprints with each bang. That is when he heard the loud bang noise from behind him. Sirius turned, leaning his back against the door to support himself, to face his father.
"How did you get your wand back?" His father asked seemingly calmly but with the familiar icy hate that usually followed his words.
"Ask me no questions, I'll tell you no lies." Sirius managed to rasp out. He doubted his father could even hear it.
"Stupefy!" his father yelled as a jet of red light came from his wand straight toward Sirius.
"Protego!" Sirius responded, shielding himself from the red jet and making it deflect away with a loud crack of light.
"I will kill you." His father stated, almost as easily as he was telling someone the weather, like it wasn't his son he was threatening to kill. "You cannot win. Just lay down your wand and save us all the trouble."
"Since," Sirius gasped for air, he was having difficulty standing and was in no condition to duel. "Since when have I ever obeyed your orders?"
Sirius barely managed to move out of the way of a stream of green light. It destroyed the door behind him, and he was left sprawled on the ground. His wand was about ten feet away, he tried to crawl toward it, but when he finally reached it, his father stepped on top of it. Sirius looked up at the cold unflinching stare of his father.
"Avada-" he began, only to be cut off and flung back by a streak of red light that had come seemingly from nowhere. Sirius didn't have the strength to turn and see his rescuer. He merely grabbed his wand, and collapsed back to the ground after trying to stand again.