Hello again!
Two updates in as many days, look at me ;P
I knew that I wanted to have this chapter for a while, but I wanted to do it at the right time, and after the last chapter I thought that now was that time. It's not a particularly nice chapter, but it's a chapter that needed to happen. I really hope you all like it!
Please leave a review and let me know what you think ;)
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Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling, and only the story line and any OC's belong to me.
As always, for my loves Sable and Lais xxx
Tuesday, April 17th, 1979
Somewhere in the North Sea
Azkaban
Misery and pain seeps from the very core of the island, darkness and terror ooze from the walls that surround the three young men as they cautiously follow the figure cloaked in shadows down a narrow corridor.
Just being here seems to forcefully drag the joy and happiness out of everything, as if everything good has been violently sucked away to a distant land beyond their reach.
It's dim and slightly damp, the smell of robust salt air clings to everything and invades their nostrils as the tumultuous winds howl outside.
"Maybe we shouldn't have done this," the lead wizard says, his brow knitting together as he runs a hand through his unruly raven locks.
"We agreed. We need answers, and this is the only way," the middle one hisses lowly, keeping an eye on the Dementor that is gliding along in front of them—his wand at the ready in case he needs to cast a Patronus charm.
"Doesn't change the fact that this place is fucking grim," the final one whispers, a kind of haunted tone to his voice, as if now realising that in a different life it could be him locked up in one of these cells. That in another life it was him slowly wasting away into a shell of his former self for twelve years.
Every now and then there is a low groan of tortured agony that reaches their ears, they can never tell where it's coming from since it appears to come from every direction. They aren't certain if it's the prison or its prisoners or both that are making the noise.
The Dementor suddenly stops, and a skeletal hand emerges from its robes and points to a small cell on its right.
The three young wizards hesitantly approach the cell, and the Dementor makes a strange sucking noise before drifting a little ways away.
Remus clears his throat as he squints into the cell, trying to see what's inside. A low gasp of shock tumbles from his lips.
He shouldn't be too surprised, he's heard stories, he's been told all of the tales and rumours of what Azkaban does to you. He feels utterly drained and he hasn't been here an hour much less a few days or a few months, or even years.
Yet seeing his former best mate, curled into himself with his hands over his ears and his entire body trembling is still a terrible shock to his system.
Oh, Pete. Part of Remus can't help but ache with sympathy, and he finds himself instinctively taking a step forward, his hands wrapping around the bone chillingly cold metal bars that are rough and slightly rusty from years of salt air attacking them.
Without a doubt though, Remus knows that there are numerous wards cast on the cells, and that the cell bars would not give even if you slammed yourself against them for months on end.
An errant thought passes through his mind about how Moody had made an Unbreakable Vow with Peter so that he could never tell You-Know-Who or any Death Eaters anything further about the Order or about what he had witnessed that day with the time travellers. The Auror had mentioned in it passing at their last Order meeting.
"Wormtail," James says from beside Remus, and from the smell of cinnamon, leather and fresh morning dew that cuts through the damp and despair on his left, he knows that Sirius has taken his place on Remus's other side.
The whimpering stops for a brief moment before lowly comes a soft chant, "you aren't real. You aren't real. I know you aren't real. Stop. Stop. Stop. Go away, you're always here taunting me Prongs...but you aren't really here. I know you aren't...SO GO AWAY!"
Peter flies up with the last proclamation, teeth bared and eyes wild as he flings himself at the bars. He stops right before them however, chest rising and falling quickly as his brown eyes dart back and forth. An almost crazed look to them.
He'd lost so much weight, the rags that they had shoved him in hung loosely off of his frame and it had only been a couple months.
Guilt eats away at your soul, Remus thinks sadly, and winces when Peter smacks the side of his head suddenly.
Then with a sort of sober meekness Peter asks, "are...are you real?"
"Yes, Wormtail. We're real," Remus responds.
Peter grimaces. "Why are you here then? To GLOAT?"
They all flinch involuntarily, but stand firm. The broken man in front of them is no longer the kind and gentle friend they knew. Remus wonders if he'd been going down this path longer than they'd realised or if Azkaban had truly lowered him this far in such a short space of time.
"Always the best, always the brightest. The most gifted. Always pitying me, always—" Peter pauses as a glint on James's hand catches his eye. "Oh, you got married then? Of course you got married. Of course. The Great and Mighty James Potter got the girl. He was AN ARROGANT PRICK, but he got the girl and Peter Pettigrew his pathetic friend is now living in filth."
"You did this to yourself, Peter. You betrayed—"
"Sod off, Black. You never cared about me, not really," Peter spits harshly, rubbing his hands through his hair in a frustrated fit of madness.
"That's not true," James says with a cold sort of anger, but it quickly fades as he recognizes that there is no reasoning with the man before them. With a deep breath though, he stands utterly still as Peter continues to verbally assault them.
"I was the slow friend, I was the one that no one wanted to date. I WAS THE ONE WHOSE FATHER MURDERED HIS MOTHER IN FRONT OF HIM AND PRETEND IT WAS ALL ALRIGHT."
"Peter," Remus starts, he didn't know that. Peter told them that his Mother was sick and that she passed away during the summer before their Sixth Year.
"Hush it mutt," Peter snarls, and Remus flinches at the insult, never thinking that Peter would ever be the one to hurl nasty names about his condition at him.
The feral look returns to Peter's eye as his nose twitches violently. "None of you noticed that anything was wrong. Everything was all wrong. Sirius had Mummy issues, and you all cared about that. Never about me. NEVER about me. You were always making stupid jokes, and you—" Peter points suddenly at Sirius, "—almost got Snape killed because you are a stupid fucking wanker."
Sirius's face pales instantly at that comment, as white as a ghost.
"You were doing stupid, frivolous things and you didn't see that I was dying inside. So that's why I did it. If you want to know so badly. Cause you never saw it coming. You never even thought it was possible," Peter laughs quick and harsh.
There's a tense pause, and the howling wind fills Remus's ears as he swallows, and tries to dislodge the words that have comfortably lodged themselves in his throat.
"We never expected it...because you were our brother," Remus says with a sad smile, releasing the metal bars and ignoring the fact that small rust flakes are now covering his palms.
He doesn't question why he can touch the bars but Peter seems almost afraid to get too close to them. He doesn't care anymore. The despair and darkness are pushing down on him, further and further. It feels as though he is being squished onto the floor, and the edges of his vision are getting darker and darker.
"Let's go," Remus says, turning on his heel and walking away, leaving James and Sirius to stand in front of their former Marauder. Both of them hesitate, taking in Peter one last time, since this is probably the last time they'll ever see him again.
"Goodbye, Peter. You weren't nothing. You were family, and I'm sorry you didn't feel that way, but you were our best mate, your name was on the Map with ours, you were with us during every full moon with Remus. You were our brother." James says coldly, but a single tear rolls down his cheek as he follows after his werewolf friend.
Sirius remains silent, grey storms being pierced by brown eyes filled with hatred, and he wonders to himself how they got here? What they could have done differently? With a thick swallow, he too leaves, and the sound of flesh sizzling reaches their ears as Peter Pettigrew throws himself forward and grasps at the cell bars.
"You're all going to die. DO YOU HEAR ME? DIE. SLOWLY AND PAINFULLY, AND I WILL DANCE ON YOUR GRAVES.HE'S GOING TO KILL YOU. THE DARK LORD IS GOING TO KILL YOU ALL!"
The three remaining Marauders swiftly exit with a maniacal laugh chasing their coat tails. A heaviness in their hearts as they all realise that they have wholly and completely lost the kind boy with a gentle way about him that they once knew. What hurt the most however, was realising that they had lost him a long, long time ago.
