Hello everyone, this is my submission for round nine of Season 9 of the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition. Thank you to my teammates: Wellwick and charlotteredmond99for betaing this. I do not own any rights to Harry Potter; they belong to J.K. Rowling.
In Cantonese, one of the native Chinese languages, the pronunciation for the number four sounds very much like the pronunciation of the word 'death'.
Chaser 1 Task: The number 4
Optional Prompts used:
3. (object) door
12. (colour) orange
13. (word) absence
Word Count: 1517
July 31st 1993
It had only been a matter of days since he had escaped the wretched confines of Azkaban and Sirius was certainly glad for the freedom. The only problem now was that he was a wanted fugitive (albeit an innocent one) with not many places to safely hide. Though there was one place – Hogsmeade. It felt like the best place to go, even though people would surely be searching for him there, he could hide in plain sight. Besides the fact it was close to Hogwarts and the Shrieking Shack where he could lay low until he hunted down Peter – that was his only purpose right now.
He padded around the cobbled streets of Hogsmeade in his Animagus form: it was the best way not to be recognised. If anything, when he was seen people were afraid, mistaking him for the Grim. His heart ached being this close to Harry and not being able to see him-not yet anyway-he couldn't pull his godson into this mess, it wouldn't be fair, it wouldn't be right.
He paused in his morning prowl to find food when his eyes fell upon a thrown away copy of the Daily Prophet, its pages splayed naked on the floor not far away from the main street. The light orange almost sepia coloured photo of him in prison garb holding a placard with his number up to the light screamed out at the world from the four-page spread. The image sent a shiver down his spine, seeing himself as he was then, gaunt, angry and afraid. The bold title embossed across the top of the first two pages read:
SIRIUS BLACK ESCAPES AZKABAN!
The article made him baulk: it stated that he had escaped from the wizarding prison and that he was a dangerous killer. It also noted that should anyone have any information as to his whereabouts to get in touch immediately with the Auror office of the Ministry of Magic.
He growled his annoyance and moved away, back into the shelter of the shadows. His absence from Azkaban had clearly fuelled quite a few fires, not that he cared one little bit. All the newspaper had done was invigorate him further to find Peter. Peter was the traitor, not him! Once he found that little rat, the truth would come out finally and he would be a free man. Free to finally see and hopefully reconcile with his godson.
September 4th 1994
Ever since his flight to freedom on the back of Buckbeak, Sirius had been travelling from place to place, never stopping in one location for long. He couldn't afford to. It hadn't been right (never-mind safe) to return to 12 Grimmauld Place, not yet anyway. Travelling abroad, going from country to country seemed his best bet and he couldn't deny that it was certainly something he was enjoying. Besides, a tan was more than welcome to brighten his pale features.
He sat on the balcony enjoying the golden orange hues of the sun begin to crest the ocean when a snowy white owl came flying towards him with a screech. Dropping a cream-coloured envelope into his lap, it perched on the iron railing, looking at him expectantly. Clearly the creature wanted a treat. After he'd given it something to eat, it stayed on the railing for a while to preen itself.
Sirius opened the envelope, taking the sheet of folded parchment from inside.
Dear Sirius,
My scar has been hurting more than normal over the summer. It feels like a warning that he's returning, growing stronger, maybe. I know I should have written to you sooner about this but I didn't want you to worry, especially when you already have a lot going on. The thing is, I had a dream, but it was more like a vision of something that has happened. I was in a house and I watched as a man was killed but I heard Voldemort's voice, I saw his corpse-like body, more of an abomination than anything bundled in rags. I had to write to tell you as I figured you'd know what to do. I haven't told Ron or Hermione about the dream, but I know they're worried about me This vision… worried me. But I'm sorry, I just needed to tell someone. I hope you're staying safe.
Harry
Sirius read the letter a second time, his heart aching at the toll of being apart from Harry, especially now when he clearly needed him. As he glanced at the beautiful, almost bittersweet orange glow of the sun that had finally broken free from the sea, he knew without a shadow of a doubt what he was going to do.
It was time to return to England, to 12 Grimmauld Place. Harry needed him.
December 18th 1995
When Sirius had heard news of the attack on Arthur Weasley in the early hours that morning, he knew it was going to be a very long day.
He knew that Harry and the others would be coming later that afternoon to Grimmauld Place. Dumbledore had thought it was best given the circumstances and Sirius couldn't agree more. He could keep Harry safe here.
Merlin knew it would be good for his godson to be here, where they could talk properly instead of through letters and fire calls that they had been used to in the past. He would be able to get a proper look at him without him disappearing or hiding what he was really feeling.
He'd dozed a little on and off during the morning. Then after a lunch, more a liquid lunch, telling himself it was to calm his nerves, he'd showered and gotten dressed. It wouldn't be right to welcome Harry and the others in his pyjamas: he needed to be presentable. He spent the afternoon in the living room, staring at the clock, almost willing it to speed the time along. He wondered whether there would be a knock on the door or whether green flames signifying the use of the Floo Network would come to life in the fireplace.
As he grew restless in the armchair, he couldn't help but wish that Lily and James were here to see how their son had grown, how he was determined and strong. Deep down Sirius knew that wherever his friends were, that they would be proud of Harry, the same way he was. Though, he did wish that Harry could have had a normal childhood, a normal life in fact. He was just a boy who had been made to grow up far quicker because of the circumstances life had thrown at him. It wasn't right, never mind fair.
He finished off the glass of Firewhiskey that he'd been nursing, enjoying the way the amber liquid burned his throat. It wouldn't do to be glum and dwell on sad thoughts; Harry would be here soon. He spent half of his time staring at the fireplace and for the remainder he stood in the hallway, his eyes fixed to the front door, wishing it would open and for Harry to be standing there on the other side.
The clock read 4:44pm when there was a sharp knock on the front door.
They were here. Harry was here.
As relief washed through him, not just at having company in the house (although he was grateful for it), but that he would be able to see his godson was what made his heart soar. Sirius jumped up from his seat and went through the doorway into the entrance hall and opened the front door to welcome Harry and his friends back to 12 Grimmauld Place.
18th June 1996
The battle deep within the Department of Mysteries was intense, spells and curses flying back and forth around the large, circular room as members of the Order along with Harry and his friends faced off against the Death Eaters.
Sirius was grinning as he fought side by side with Harry and Remus. Yet, having Harry here beside him, he could have sworn it was James: Harry was his double, not just in looks but the way he held himself in a fight. The adrenaline coursed through his veins; he loved a good fight, he always had.
The duel he found himself in with his cousin, Bellatrix, was a ferocious one. He was doing his utmost to push her back.
Things were going well until she caught him off guard and fired a curse which hit him square in the chest. He stumbled back, numb as his life began to flash before his eyes, four particular memories taking centre stage in the montage.
The pride and love he had felt holding baby Harry for the first time.
The anger at being imprisoned in Azkaban–an innocent man.
The desire for revenge when he had finally cornered Peter in the Shrieking Shack.
The joy at Harry staying at Grimmauld Place with him and taking his godson for a spin on his magic motorcycle.
With that last thought of Harry, he fell back into the veil.
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I'll see you all soon,
S L Blake x