Sirius argued heatedly with the shop owner. Despite his mere five years, he knew that the vender was attempting to cheat him. The average price for oranges was half again as low as the man was demanding. Inwardly, the child cracked a grin. The man was in for a big surprise.

"Five for the kilo, boy!"

"Half a pound."

"What?!? No, I won't take less than four."

"Three quarters, then."

"Three and a half I say, and that's my final offer."

Seeing that this was no bluff, Sirius threw in his final trick.

"Alright. Two and a half."

Startled by the sudden rise in price, the vendor instantly agreed, shaking the boy's tiny hand in his own large paw to seal the bargain. A moment later, chagrin splayed across his features as he realized he had been outmaneuvered. Since the price for which the orange had been purchased that morning was two and a half, the street rat had just conned him out of any profit. The large man shrugged. A deal was a deal. He turned his back to fill a sack of the fruit, handing it over as the money crossed his hands.

The little boy dashed away with his booty, racing for the Whore's District before the gates were closed. If he didn't make it there before dusk, he'd be shut out from his home until the morning. And worse, when he did get back, his mother would hit like she always did when he did something wrong. (Hurry! Hurry! Run fast home to your mother!) In his haste, he tripped over the uneven cobblestones in the streets of Old Market. The sprawl that resulted not only scraped his knee and cheek, but the sack of oranges split and rolled all over the ground. Swearing softly to himself, he pulled the ratty t-shirt off his head and deftly tied a knot at the top. The youth scampered after the oranges, but by the time he had finally caught them all, dusk had fallen. Dashing the final few blocks, Sirius reached the closing gate's just in time to see a sliver of the Factory District through the gate. With a thump of his fist on the thick wall, he turned away, seeking other shelter.

When the child woke the next morning, he uncurled stiffly from the position he'd found beneath the docks. Jumping up smartly as he remembered his unfinished errand, short little legs began to move swiftly, passing through the now open gate with a wave to the guard. A few minutes later he stopped in front of the House, horrified by the vision before him.

Firemen were working furiously to extinguish a blaze that was devouring the entire building. Screams could be heard inside, but by the firemen's tortured look, there was no possible way those inside could be saved. Only seconds later the screaming died down, but that did not console the boy any. The sack of oranges forgotten on the curb, he tried to run inside the burning building, to find Sheri, to save her. Yelling in frustration as a fireman hauled him back, he watched hopelessly as all he had ever known burned to the ground.

Before the blaze was over though, he'd left, knowing now that there was nothing he could do. Even now, the memory of his mother was fading from his five year old mind, but Sheri remained as crisp of ever. (Was she happy now?) He mourned her far more than the woman he called Mama. But the way of a street rat is not to dwell on things. With only one more look at the wreckage, Sirius made his way into the heart of London.



* * *



London. That part of his life was so long ago, so very far behind him. Had he really been that free? (I was free?) No one had known who he was, where he was, from where he had come. Nor had anyone cared. He was in charge of only himself, and only he. Not now. Now he was everyone's but his own, to laugh at, to scorn, to deride and rage at. He was the scapegoat of the public, the play toy of the Dementors, the captive of the Ministry.

A year in Azkaban and an eternity in hell. For the rest of his life he must endure this? No, the captive decided, eyes more sane then they had been for his entire tenure so far in the murky dungeons. But I longer must I stay here, he further mused. (Longer? What is longer than eternity?)

Darkest star in the sky. Darkest star in the sky. Darkest star in the sky. That's what the public had chanted during his trial - or non trial, rather. Just a declaration of his punishment made by Fudge. Darkest star in the sky. Darkest star in the sky. But that wasn't right, was it? Sirius. Sirius. The Dog Star. It was the brightest star in the sky. (Is it? I can't remember. I last saw the sky so long ago) And so was he. (Are you? Remember Peter, remember who recommended him).

The Dementors began their evening rounds for dinner. Mentally, Sirius began going over his life piece by piece, memory by memory, clinging desperately to his last grip to sanity.