The Foetid Breath of Living Death
Short, slightly angsty fic set at the same time as Chamber of Secrets. Hagrid is sent to Azkaban, and finds himself sharing a cell with Sirius Black. Could be seen by some as mildly slashy, but that depends on your interpretation. Sirius, Hagrid, Fudge, Azkaban and the Dementors are all JK Rowling's invention. The minor characters belong to me, but if anyone wants to borrow them, feel free to. The title comes from The Ballad of Reading Gaol.
Sirius Black did not have a window in his cell, but he could tell by the tread of the Dementors that it was late in the day. As dusk approached, their steps quickened, as though they were eager for the night ahead.
Azkaban was worst at night, Sirius thought. In the day, there were things to concentrate upon – a piece of bread, a sip of water, the speckles and scratches on the grimy stone floor of the cell. Not happy thoughts, these, so the Dementors could not see them, but small scraps and tatters of sanity, toeholds above the abyss.
In the darkness, the prisoners were as blind as the Dementors. Too many times, Sirius had felt a foul cloak brush against his face unseen, or a scabbed and slimy hand rest upon his shoulder as he lay on the stone floor and waited for sleep that did not come. Sirius had cowered in a corner, whimpering, no longer able even to scream. He had always been brave, planning dangerous and exciting escapades at school, fighting the followers of Voldemort until the last.
Azkaban had changed all that.
Again and again Sirius relived the night in Godric's Hollow.
Again and again he stumbled over the rubble that had been the Potters' house, hoping against hope, screaming James and Lily's names over and over.
Again and again he realised the terrible thing that he had done, as he saw the lifeless bodies of his two dearest friends.
Again and again he placed their howling, bloodied son into Rubeus Hagrid's care, knowing that he would never see Harry again. Sirius had wept in Hagrid's mammoth arms that night. Fighting back tears himself, Hagrid had held Sirius tightly, making the little mouth-noises he used to comfort hurt animals. There were no words that could be said, but Sirius had been comforted by the warmth and vitality of Hagrid's scratchy embrace.
Sirius could not remember Hagrid's succour. The Dementors snatched the memory away whenever it surfaced in his mind, leaving only the undiluted desolation of that night.
I am innocent, thought Sirius. I did not commit that crime. I am not guilty of it. I should not be here. Like a catechism, Sirius repeated the words again and again in his head. It was the only thing that could drown out the terrible memories – the confrontation with Peter, the shame and humiliation of Sirius's arrest, the realisation that Crouch intended to incarcerate him in Azkaban for life – without a trial. It was not me, repeated Sirius Black. I did not do it.
* * *
He heard a struggle in the corridor, the howls of a prisoner close by, and the jangle of keys. Sirius looked up to see thirteen Dementors bearing a struggling prisoner. The prisoner was very large, and as it took four Dementors to control each limb and one to restrain his head, he was also very strong. The Dementors unlocked Sirius's cell and threw the prisoner inside. They melted away into the dark corridor.
The huge prisoner struggled to his feet, and battered on the bars of the cell.
'Let me out! There's bin a terrible mistake! I didn' open it! It wasn' me! It wasn' me the first time, but I took the blame for it! Listen to me! Let me out! I DID NOT OPEN THE CHAMBER!' The prisoner eventually realised that nobody would come for him, and he sank to the floor. The dim light illuminated his face, and Sirius Black gave a sudden gasp of recognition.
'Hagrid!'
Hagrid jumped at the sound of his name.
'Who's that? Do yeh know me?'
At the sound of Hagrid's voice, Sirius's heart leaped with joy as the memory that the Dementors always stole came flooding back. Sirius forgot all that had happened subsequently as he realised that he was sharing a cell with the source of his last ever happy thought.
'It's me, Hagrid. Sirius Black.'
Before Sirius realised what was happening, he felt a powerful blow to his head as Hagrid hit him across the cell. Sirius crashed into the stone wall, lost his balance and fell to the floor. Hagrid leaped on him. An enormous knee pinned Sirius's legs to the floor. One of Hagrid's huge hands sealed around Sirius's throat. The other punched Sirius repeatedly in the stomach.
'MURDERER!' Hagrid bellowed. 'MURDERIN' DEATH EATER TRAITOR!'
Sirius felt his guts explode with pain from Hagrid's blows. Hagrid's massive hand constricted Sirius's throat, and he could barely breathe. Sirius tried to fight Hagrid off, but Hagrid was too strong.
'Not so tough now, are yeh?' snarled Hagrid. 'Not doin' so well without a wand, eh? Don't like fightin' people yer own size and strength, do yeh?' Hagrid drove his fist into Sirius's diaphragm, expelling what felt like every particle of air from Sirius's lungs. Nobody can fight when winded. Sirius collapsed, sobbing for breath.
Hagrid was not a bully. He stopped hitting Sirius, and drew back. When Sirius was breathing again, Hagrid lifted him up, and pinned him to the wall. Hagrid looked at Sirius in disgust, and spat copiously in his face.
'Filth,' snarled Hagrid. 'Yeh used to be a good an' powerful wizard, when yeh was at school. Then yeh threw yer lot in with the Death Eaters, an' sold yer friends down the river fer a taste o' power. Yeh killed yer friend Peter Pettigrew. Yeh killed all them Muggles, that never hurt you or any other wizard in their lives. How can yeh even look me in the eyes, yeh Death Eater scum? CAN YOU THINK OF ONE REASON WHY I SHOULDN' KILL YEH NOW WITH MY BARE HANDS?' He slammed Sirius against the stone cell wall.
'Hagrid…' Sirius gasped. 'Please…don't kill me.'
'Why?' roared Hagrid. 'WHY SHOULD I LET MURDERIN' SCUM LIKE YOU LIVE WHEN GREAT WITCHES AN' WIZARDS DIED AT YER HANDS?'
'Because if you kill me,' Sirius said, 'you'll be in Azkaban for life.'
This prospect quietened Hagrid, and a violent shudder passed through him. He put Sirius down on the floor.
'Did I hurt yer, Black?' Hagrid asked.
'Not really,' Sirius admitted. 'Bruises, though, and breathing's not fun. I'm not strong any more, you see. Azkaban does that to you.'
Hagrid looked as if he did not want to know what Azkaban did to you.
'What are you in here for, anyway?' Sirius asked him.
'The Chamber of Secrets' bin opened again. People Petrified, an' after last time everyone thinks it was me. Ministry o' Magic sent me here, as a precaution says Lucius Malfoy, bu' I know what that means. That's not the wors' thing Malfoy's done though. He's suspended Albus Dumbledore as Head of Hogwarts! We're nothin' withou' Dumbledore!'
'Is that true?'
'All of it,' Hagrid said despairingly, shaking his shaggy head as tears filled his black-beetle eyes. Sirius tentatively placed his hand on Hagrid's immense shoulder. The urge to comfort and reassure was overwhelming.
Hagrid threw the hand away violently.
'Don't touch me!' he said fiercely. 'Not scum like you.'
'Hagrid,' Sirius said. 'I know that I'm in Azkaban for an evil crime. I would think less of you if you didn't hate me for it. I've done a terrible thing. I will die in this cell. No more than a cold-blooded murderer deserves. But I don't think you've grasped what Azkaban does to you, Hagrid. Out of the people sent to Azkaban when I was, most are dead – stopped eating. Almost all of the people left alive are insane. It's so cold in the presence of the Dementors, Hagrid. And inside, you are bleak and drained. It is as if nothing will ever be good again, and everything that was good is a lie and a sham. Look at me, Hagrid.' Unwillingly, Hagrid looked up.
'Do you have any bad memories, Hagrid? Awful things that happened in your life?'
'Loads,' Hagrid whispered hoarsely. 'Who doesn' have any?'
'In Azkaban,' Sirius said, 'you can't stop going through them in your mind again and again and again. And you can never remember the most important thing, which is that bad times always come to an end, and there are good times in between. It's like having the chorus of a song that you hate in your head, but you can't remember the last line, so it just goes round and around forever. Hagrid, I know what you think of me. I don't blame you. But things are different at Azkaban. The night is coming, and soon you will know what I mean. Whatever else I am, I'm not a Dementor.'
Hagrid sat on the floor with his mighty legs drawn up to his chest, and his head in his hands.
'Don' talk to me,' he said. 'I dunno what to think. So cold…'
* * *
There are no clocks in Azkaban, but by the screaming coming from outside the cell, Sirius estimated that the Dementor had taken the lamp away about twenty minutes ago. Shivering, he curled up on the floor of the cell, and prepared for sleep. Sleep was the only refuge for most of the prisoners of Azkaban – or rather, the ten-minute interval between the loss of consciousness and the beginning of the dreams.
A small wizard, refusing to believe the truth, checks again in all the rooms and cupboards of the house. No female clothing can be found, the only shoes lined up at the door are small and belong to him or the child. But why didn't she leave a note? he wondered, before remembering. Fridwulfa couldn't read or write. Fighting tears, he picks up the sturdy toddler banging a cauldron with a spoon in the kitchen. It takes some effort, as the boy is larger than most ten-year-olds. 'Rubeus? Mummy's gone away now, so it's just the two of us. But we'll be just fine, won't we?' Sensing his father's unhappiness, the toddler starts to bawl………………an enormous twelve-year-old wizard, uncomfortable in formal black robes, listens to a funeral eulogy: 'Though Wilfred Hagrid was small in body, we remember him today as a wizard who was great in heart, a good friend, loving son and devoted father. All our thoughts today should be with his son…' and the young wizard realises just how alone he is in the world………………a hulking adolescent shifts uncomfortably in the formality of the office: '… and so, Rubeus Hagrid, you are hereby formally expelled from Hogwarts Academy of Witchcraft and Wizardry' and the frail, withered hands snap the oak wand over the gowned knee……………… 'Goodbye Norbert, you'll love Romania, think of all those other dragons flying about…' and the baby dragon disappears from his life forever…
A terrible keening howl like the sound of a great dying animal split the air. Sirius started, and then realised that the noise was coming from Hagrid. Since hearing Sirius's account of life in Azkaban, Hagrid had made no further effort to move or speak, and pressed himself to the wall if Sirius tried to speak or come near. Now he was screaming from the horror of his first night in Azkaban.
In the small cell, Sirius crawled over to where Hagrid lay. Sirius had spent much of his sentence in solitary confinement, and was not used to hearing the Azkaban night-screams so closely. If Hagrid continued, Sirius would be spending the entire night awake, reliving the discovery of the dead Potters to the soundtrack of Hagrid's despair.
Sirius put his arm around the howling Hagrid, and squeezed his trembling shoulder.
'Shh-shh-shhhh. Don't worry. It's me. Be all right. Morning soon. All over. Just the past you're thinking about. All over now. Can't hurt you. Be all right.' Sirius comforted Hagrid, knowing that what he was saying didn't really make sense but that it didn't matter, all that Hagrid needed was a human presence. It was working; Hagrid's screams decreased in volume until they were isolated whimpers. Sirius drew Hagrid's hairy head into his lap, and held it there with his hands. Sirius realised how long it had been since another human had touched him. Hagrid's head trembled in Sirius's lap, and he became aware of where he was.
'Who's that?' Hagrid demanded, jumping up.
'Me,' Sirius said.
'Sirius Black!' said Hagrid, in a voice that shook with outrage and shock. 'Get away from me, Death Eater scum! DON' TOUCH ME!' He picked Sirius up and hurled him bodily to the opposite corner of the cell. Sirius's head struck the wall, and he crumpled to the floor, unconscious. He did not awaken when, ten minutes later, Hagrid's howling screams resumed.
* * *
Twenty-four hours later, and Hagrid sat shivering in the same corner, hugging his knees, and trying to mentally prepare himself for another night in Azkaban. He had not spoken a single word all day. From the opposite corner, Sirius watched Hagrid warily. Sirius had endeavoured to talk to Hagrid twice, but both efforts had been met with a catatonic silence.
Sirius heard the screams amplifying along the corridor, and knew that the Dementors were taking the lamps away. A clangle of keys, the dragging scrape of a filthy cloak, and two Dementors entered the room. Hagrid buried his head in his hands; it was the last thing that Sirius saw before darkness enveloped them, and there was nothing but the distant cries of the prisoners of Azkaban. The footsteps of two Dementors approached, as they bore a prisoner down the corridor. Her shrill voice, intoning words that seemed to Sirius learned by rote and stored in a dusty back-cupboard of the mind, pierced his brain as the party passed the cell.
'…in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake. Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil…' Her voice faded as she was borne away.
Strange words, Sirius thought. Unfamiliar. Muggle poetry perhaps? The foreign phrases echoed and chimed with the sickening cold and desolation that had crawled into his bones and dissolved in his blood, as Hagrid made a low moaning sound that sharpened into the same keening howl that had woken Sirius the previous night.
Sirius shuddered, and used the only magic available to him with no wand. In the darkness, he transformed, and became Padfoot again, the mighty black dog. As he curled up on the cell floor with his head on his paws, Sirius had a flash of memory: Hagrid at Hogwarts. Hagrid, who had loved animals. Hagrid wrestling trolls and befriending monstrous spiders in the Forbidden Forest, Hagrid carefully grooming his splendid string of Hippogriffs, Hagrid striding through the grounds with his faithful boarhound at his side…
Sirius got to his feet and padded over to where Hagrid lay and howled. He cautiously licked Hagrid's hand. This time, Hagrid noticed Sirius's presence immediately.
'Who's that?' he demanded. 'If it's Black, I've warned yeh once, traitor. Get away from me or I'll kill yeh!' Sirius rubbed his black-furred head against Hagrid's hand.
'Yer an animal?'
Sirius whined in affirmation.
'A dog?' Sirius licked Hagrid's face, and then barked as loudly as he dared. Immediately, Hagrid flung his arms around Sirius, stroking the furry barrel of his chest and crooning contentedly.
'Good boy, there's a good boy. I can't see yeh but I can tell yer a lovely creature. C'mere, roll over for Hagrid. Good dog.'
Sirius lay on the floor, and Hagrid rolled him over and scratched his coal-black belly, inhaling his warm, vital (and slightly unpleasant) smell.
'Yeh like that, don't yeh? Yeh do! Yeh like havin' yer tummy tickled, eh?'
Sirius got to his feet, and bounded into Hagrid's arms again.
'I hate this place, yeh know,' Hagrid said, more quietly. 'I hate those ruddy Dementors. Feels like I'm goin' mad. Just lie here with my head full o' horrible stuff.'
Sirius whimpered, and licked Hagrid's bristly chin.
'Yeh hate it here too, don't yeh?' said Hagrid, stroking Sirius's silky ears. 'I'm s'posed to be gettin' out of here when they find out who opened the Chamber, but if I try an' think abou' it, I feel worse than ever.' Hagrid sighed, ruffling Sirius's shaggy fur.
'I wish I could take yeh back to Hogwarts,' he reflected. 'Yeh'd like runnin' about all over the grounds, and yeh'd be company for Fang. Yeh could meet Harry, an' Ron an' Hermione.'
Sirius's ears pricked up. Harry was a common enough name, he told himself. It won't be the same one.
'Harry's great,' Hagrid continued. 'I took him to Albus Dumbledore myself, night his parents were killed. Tiny baby, family all gone, somehow survived You-Know-Who – nobody knows why, 'cept maybe Dumbledore. But Harry's doin' all right now. He plays Quidditch so well, his dad would be dead proud…' Hagrid snuffled and blinked back tears. Sirius waited, desperate for news of his godson.
'And he'd be watchin' Harry play now, if it wasn' for scum like that over there,' said Hagrid bitterly, pointing a mammoth finger into the darkness of the cell. 'That good-fer-nothin' traitor wen' over to the Dark side, killed his best friend an' a bunch of Muggles. He could rot forever in here, an' it wouldn' be long enough. Mind you, if they let him out he wouldn't last five minutes before someone tore him limb from limb. I'd've done it myself, but I don' want an Azkaban sentence for murder…'
Sirius barely listened to Hagrid denouncing him. Please, he thought, oh please tell me more about Harry. That's all I ask.
But the Dementors had robbed Hagrid of the memory of anything good or happy or true. Now Hagrid was talking about Hogwarts, and the Chamber of Secrets, and Dumbledore being suspended, and poor Hermione being Petrified. He broke off abruptly with a sigh.
'I'm so tired, dog. An' I'm so cold. Dog – I dunno yer name – will yeh stay with me tonight? Please?'
Sirius gave a whine of assent. Hagrid lay on the floor, and held his arms out for Sirius. The enormous man embraced the enormous dog and they huddled together on the floor. Sirius pressed his furry body against the broad belly and chest of Hagrid, craving the comfort and warmth he had not known for so long. As sleep overtook Sirius, his last conscious thought was the realisation that the dog-heart and the man-heart beat in time.
* * *
As a dog, Sirius was habituated to waking early. He opened his eyes to find that he was still clutched in Hagrid's arms. Mustn't let him see me as a dog, he thought. In Azkaban there was no such thing as privacy; Sirius guarded his only secret jealously. He transformed into a human, and then wriggled out of Hagrid's arms, careful not to awaken him. Instantly, the familiar Azkaban cold and despair poured into his body, and it was as if the previous night had never happened.
He huddled in the corner, watching the sleeping Hagrid. As he watched, Hagrid began to shudder and twitch, and his eyes opened.
'Did you sleep well, Hagrid?' Sirius asked politely. 'You didn't scream as much as last night.' Hagrid grunted in reply and then lapsed into the disconsolate catatonia of the previous day.
About three hours later, he spoke.
'Black?'
'Mmm?'
'Do yeh know if there's a dog in this prison?'
'What sort of dog?' Sirius asked, trying to keep his voice steady.
'Big, shaggy. Nice nature.'
'Yeah, I think so. What about him?'
'I think he was in the cell last night.'
'That sounds about right,' said Sirius. 'There's a dog who wanders around and comes in here sometimes.'
'Has he got a name?' Hagrid wanted to know.
'Dunno,' Sirius said. 'I sometimes call him Snuffles.'
'What's he doin' here?'
'The Dementors keep him here,' Sirius said quietly, 'for killing the rats.'
* * *
Alone in his cell, Sirius Black prepared himself for another night in Azkaban. The day had began like any other, when Sirius woke up in Hagrid's arms as a dog, transformed and then crept into the corner of the cell, to spend another day in silence. Lost in terrible thoughts of Wormtail and his treachery, Sirius did not at first notice the two Ministry of Magic employees who stood outside the bars. One was a middle-aged witch wearing robes made of glossy grey satin, and the other was a curly-haired wizard, so young that his face was still splotched with acne. They entered the cell, flanked by two Dementors.
'Mr Rubeus Hagrid?' asked the young wizard.
Hagrid, gazing at the wall, did not move.
'Mr Hagrid?' the man repeated, touching Hagrid's shoulder. Hagrid gulped and looked up.
'That's me,' he said.
'We're from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement,' said the witch. 'We've come to take you home.'
'Home?' Hagrid asked.
'Yes,' she said briskly. 'You are being released without any charge.' In an undertone, she muttered to her colleague 'Azkaban sometimes does this to people'.
'What about – what happened with the Chamber of Secrets?'
'It's been dealt with. The creature inside is now dead.'
'How about the Petrified people – are they all right? What about Hermione?'
'Fine. Fortunately, the Hogwarts gardens produced an exceptionally fine crop of Mandrakes. But anyway, Mr Hagrid, we'll be able to talk about that on the way home.' The witch brushed some imaginary dust from her hands, and Hagrid slowly got to his feet. He moved gingerly and feebly, as if debilitated by disease. The witch spoke sharply.
'Come along, Mr Hagrid. Dumbledore is expecting you back at Hogwarts as soon as possible. Unless, of course, you want to spend more time here.' She turned her attention to Sirius. 'Sirius Black, I presume?' Sirius nodded mutely.
'You might as well know that an inspection will take place in a few weeks' time. Mr Fudge is very - ahem - keen to make sure that this is a prison that the wizarding world can be - ahem - proud of.'
'Might even get a bit more grub and a proper bed when Fudge does the old tour,' said the young wizard with a grin. He was rewarded with a stern look from the Ministry witch before the party left with Hagrid.
'Goodbye, Hagrid,' Sirius said quietly. As he expected, Hagrid did not reply, or even turn around.
* * *
Sirius Black lay on the floor of the cell, his head on his great paws. He whimpered, and his tail thumped the floor of the cell once, twice, three times. Somehow he felt simultaneously more and less alone than he had before Hagrid had slept in the cell. As he was slowly claimed by a sleep that would be dreamless if short-lived, he wondered if Hagrid, warm and safe in his hut at Hogwarts, would remember a great black dog that stayed near when the darkness deepened. Something about the thought pleased him.