"Vengeance Is Very Sweet"
A Sirius Black Vignette
I will find him.
I will find him… and when I do, I won't use my wand at all after I have forced him to show his true, worthless, sniveling hide because I will have no need of it. Wands are of no use to someone who is planning to choke the life from another wizard. And after I leave him gasping for air, groveling at my feet, begging for mercy-of which I will give none- I'll kick him hard enough in the gut for all air to leave him. Then I will grab up the collar of his robes and slam him against the wall and I will rip out his throat with my bare hands, so that he can't scream in pain when he feels what will happen next.
For I will take my knife-I will have a knife, a long one-and then I will rip out that icy cold heart, the heart that shows no compassion for others and cares only for the body it beats inside of.
That heart doesn't deserve to beat.
But for days of long it has, it continues steadily when it should be stopped, torn from the chest as though it was nothing more than a child's play toy because that's-
"-WHAT HE DESERVES!" I screamed into the quiet of my cell. The entire prison of Azkaban was absolutely silent. I wondered why it would seem so quiet to my finely tuned ears… could it be because of the other prisoners? Were they all dead? Were they all trapped in there, inside their own cells, inside their own memories, drowning in despair? Had they killed themselves…?
Or were they just asleep?
Sleep did not come easily to me now, nor had it for years. I lay awake every night, plotting my revenge, thinking just how I would kill him once I had the chance. And one night, I thought dreamily, I would escape from this hell, for it was hell in every single way a man could think of. And I had not just revenge on my mind, but a ghost of a memory.
Remus… how I dearly missed Remus. My dearest friend had been stolen from me, and I had no idea where he was now. He probably had been shunned from all the jobs he had tried to apply for, because of what he was. I didn't know how the rest of the world could care about his identity, I certainly didn't. But I suppose they were trying to keep people safe, mired in their own prejudice about things that they didn't understand. Aren't we all afraid of things we do not take the time to understand?
He was my best friend as much as he was a murderous werewolf, and I had known him as a boy before I had ever known him as that. If there was one thing I did not know when it came to that shy, sweet boy I had known at Hogwarts that was now a man, it was prejudice.
James… my heart ached for him too, how I missed him. How I missed his brilliant mind that had gotten me out of trouble so often and quick wit that had always made me laugh. I longed for his company as much as I longed for Remus' company. And although there may have been hope for me to still explain everything to Remus, there was no hope for James. He had been killed by Voldemort protecting his son Harry, and even the strongest of wizards, even the cleverest of wizards could not bring back the dead.
There was only one I did not love, and did not miss.
I was shaken out of my dreary thoughts by a clanging that echoed down the dimly lit hall, and I looked up. A pinstriped cloak swished and swam into view. My lip curled in anger and my eyes narrowed swiftly. The man was carrying a paper.
I shook my head disdainfully. Only a blundering fool would come and check on a top-security prisoner, surrounded by Dementors, and bring the Daily Prophet with him. My fingers curled around the iron bars and I watched him silently like a caged animal as he walked briskly down the corridor to my cell.
"Cornelius Fudge, Minister for Magic," I sneered by way of greeting, "fancy seeing you again. Been a few years, hasn't it?" My voice was harsher and more guttural than I had expected it to be.
"Twelve, to be precise, Black," he said, and settled himself in a straight-backed chair across from me, pressed right up against the bars of the other cell, and opened up his paper. I sat down facing the door of my cell and put my legs in a cross-legged fashion, resting my elbows on my thighs. My hands rested in a steeple position, and an almost bemused smile touched my lips. I could have sworn Fudge was startled at how calm I seemed, but he said nothing of it. I sat quietly for a long while, just looking at him.
CLANG! A particularly violent prisoner, an occupant of the cell that Fudge had his chair pressed up against slammed against the bars and made a snarling sound, its long, bluish-black tongue snaking out in hopes of a meal. The Minister recoiled from the gruesome sight, while I observed with interest.
Fudge screamed when he realized the prisoner was chewing hungrily on the hem of his cloak, and he stood up abruptly and tore it away from the demon-like man's mouth. I chuckled darkly as I watched, my deep-blue eyes twinkling with bitter amusement and from the glow of the torches on the wall. I knew what that prisoner was, and it wasn't human. At least not anymore.
Eventually he wrestled his cloak from the prisoner's grip and pulled his chair up a bit, away from the wall. He then relaxed and picked up his paper again, looking at the front page.
"Do you think I could have a look at that?" I asked, seeing that manners might get me somewhere in this game.
"Why?" Fudge sneered almost exactly as I had sneered at him.
I shrugged, and again I wore the same bemused smile. "If you haven't already noticed, Minister, I have been in this cell a long, long time. And I haven't done the crossword for ages. I rather miss it."
"You do, do you?" Fudge said warily.
I never took my eyes off him.
"I don't bite," I taunted frostily, and looked pointedly at the cell that he had pushed his chair away from where the creature now slept peacefully. Fudge looked at it as well, and I raised an eyebrow, fighting the urge to burst out laughing again. He was such an idiot!
After a moment of some reluctance, however, he rolled it up and hesitantly slipped it through the bars, letting go of it as soon as I took it in case I might be carrying some infectious disease. I took it politely and unfolded it, glancing coldly at him before I turned my attention to the headlines emblazoned on the front page, where something caught my eye.
It was a black and white picture of a happy-looking wizard family, all standing in a group, smiling and waving. A majestic, breath-taking pyramid loomed behind them in the background, telling me that the picture must have been taken in Egypt. My finger traced down to the caption and I read it carefully. Sure enough, Arthur Weasley had won the Daily Prophet Galleon Draw and was spending it on a trip to Egypt with his family. There was the mother, Molly Weasley, a pretty yet plump lady with beautiful eyes, and the father, Arthur Weasley, a tall thin balding man with a jovial smile, standing together near the top of the group.
Behind them were two young men that looked to be in their twenties, one that was short and stocky and had a sun-burned, weather-beaten round face and the other one who was taller and skinny and wore a ponytail. That had to be William, or Bill, and Charlie Weasley. In the middle was a tall, smug-looking boy who wore a fez with a badge pinned onto it, who had to be Percy Weasley. On either side of the boy in the very center were two boys who looked to be identical twins, with identical mischievous grins. Those were the twins, Fred and George Weasley… the caption said all of their names. Then there was the boy in the center, Ronald, also known as Ron, who had one of his arms around a little girl Virginia, or Ginny, who had to be the youngest child and only girl besides the mother in the family. The four boys, Percy, the twins Fred and George, and Ron, and the little girl would all be returning to Hogwarts this fall for school.
My eyes widened as I glanced at the boy in the center of the picture, and I glanced back up. Fudge was staring around into the dark, and I could see by the torchlight that despite his close encounter, he was looking very tired. His eyelids drooped and in no time at all, he was asleep. The Dementors glided away down the hall, leaving him quite alone. Perfect.
I ripped out the picture and its caption carefully, glancing up every so often to make sure he was still snoring. When I was done, I slid the paper through the bars again and with trembling fingers, I held the picture up to the light.
There was a rat on the boy's shoulder and I could see it was missing a finger. As my fingertips traced over the miniscule rat again and again, my mind went back to that fateful day…
It was hard to believe that it had been broad daylight only a few hours ago. The rain poured down now as though the heavens had simply opened up and began pouring buckets down onto the little London street, and all of its soggy inhabitants. Muggle women leaned out of second story windows, Muggle men in raincoats stood outside, not caring if they were drenched to the bone, and little Muggle children under the protective arms of their mothers, and plenty of wizards and witches that were wet too. All of them were watching the tense scene that had begun to develop.
I was soaking wet as well, the rain had plastered my robes to my skin, and my cloak was of no use now because of its ragged state. Nevertheless, my fingernails dug into his shoulders as I gripped them tight.
"Why? Why did you betray them? Did you care nothing for them? Why…?" I whispered with rage into his smiling face, "You're nothing but a little traitor, you know that? Nothing but a traitor!"
His malicious, evil smile only grew wider as I whispered more furiously and shook him harder. He only continued to smile, but when he spoke his face changed into an expression like mine-anger and disbelief.
"YOU KILLED LILY AND JAMES!" he screamed as I shook him harder, and all the witches and wizards behind us gasped with horror and broke into fervent whispers. "YOU KILLED THEM!" he screamed again, "YOU WERE THEIR SECRET-KEEPER, AND YOU BETRAYED THEM! YOU SOLD LILY AND JAMES POTTER TO YOU-KNOW-WHO!"
"It's Voldemort, and you know it," I hissed, "I never betrayed him and you'll go to Azkaban knowing that, you'll have years alone in your cell to brood on that."
He shook his head again, but he still wore that unnerving smile.
"You sold Lily and James to Voldemort, boy, say it right," I admonished with a bitter laugh, "Come on, say it… Voldemort is your true master…"
"You'll pay," he growled under his breath. I just laughed again, and I looked over my shoulder to see Ministry of Magic Officials, including Cornelius Fudge, part the crowd that gathered behind us. When I said Voldemort's name again, he flinched as if I had hit him and was planning to do it again. But I would do no such thing. Instead I reached for my wand.
"Let's settle this the right way," I said, brandishing it.
He shook his head, shivering in his boots. I didn't blame him, he was terrible at dueling when I knew him back at school. All while he was shaking his head he unwillingly pulled out his own wand and we stared each other down, both wands aimed between each other's eyes. If he made one move, I would kill him, and I wouldn't care if I spent a lifetime in Azkaban because of it. He was looking really scared now, and not as though he was just pretending to be just so that he could frame me for a crime I had not committed. I stared into his eyes for a long time, seeing only him, but as I stepped back a bit the heel of my boot banged against the man-hole, and that set off thousands of high-pitched squeaks from the red-eyed rats of the sewer below. I gave an involuntary shudder as I eyed the man before me. I saw only him, but I heard only the squeaks of the rats. Appropriate. And as the rain lashed down onto the street and found the rats below, the squeaks grew louder.
"You… you…" his teeth chattered. I smiled at him, slightly amused, and shook my head.
Then I raised my wand.
BANG!
Before I knew what was happening, he had taken his wand, stuck it behind his back, and with a cry, let loose a curse.
I turned and watched in horror as thirteen Muggles directly behind me all went down as though they were a line of trees flattened by a strong gale, then a burst of green light flashed before me and I turned my head again.
He had disappeared.
I shook my head to rid it of its grogginess from the blast, and stepped over to where he had been standing. I was very startled by what I saw next.
A single, bloody finger lay on the sidewalk, turning the puddle to blood as the red mingled with the water, and I glanced at the man-hole just to see the end of a tail disappear and a small rat escape down the sewer. In what seemed like no time at all, another squeak had joined the thousands that were already chorusing. Chorusing in victory, it sounded like.
"Black… Sirius Black?" Cornelius Fudge had finally caught up with me, and grabbed me roughly by the shoulder, "Black… don't make us put the Body-Bind on you to make you leave! Get moving!"
"Excuse me?" I said mildly, blinking a couple times.
"You have been found at the scene of the crime, Black, don't deny it! You've just murdered thirteen Muggles with one curse, and Peter Pettigrew as well! You'll have to answer to the Ministry about this! The only thing left of Mr. Pettigrew is his finger! The biggest thing to be found!" He walked over to the puddle and with one black-gloved hand picked up the bloody finger and shook it in my face. I recoiled, my eyes wide, and when I tried to step back I realized that two Ministry wizards had already sneaked up behind me and were holding my arms so that I would not escape. But I had no intention of doing that.
"You never know, there could be more of him in the sewer," I remarked in a smart-aleck fashion.
Fudge stared at me, eyes blazing, and in one swift movement he cuffed me hard across the jaw. I gasped for air and tried not to stumble, but I couldn't even rub where he had hit to ease the pain, so I straightened up and struggled to stay calm and composed, my face smarting painfully.
"What have you got to say for yourself, Black?"
"Nothing. I know that with a dunderhead like you in charge, what I say won't make a bit of difference anyhow," I retorted.
"There's a good start," he answered back.
I eyed Fudge beadily and swung my head around so that I could stare at the sewer, and I smiled maliciously, a laugh forming in my throat. All at once, it burst forth like a dam, and I laughed as I never had before. My eyes danced and I laughed in Fudge's face as well, while he stared at me as though he thought I was mad. And I might have been, a little bit. But not like the rat was.
"Get moving!" Fudge snapped, and the Ministry wizards that held my arms tightly kicked me in the back of my calves and I moved forward, away from the scene where I had most definitely been framed.
I snapped awake, and realized that I had drifted into sleep just as Fudge had. I crumpled up the picture and discreetly stuffed it in my robes.
"Finally awake, Black?" said a voice that made me jump out of my skin, and I looked up to see Fudge, awake and alert, and leaning forward in his chair to peer through the dark at me. I shrank back further into the shadows, not wishing for him to see my face.
"Ready to answer a question or two?" he asked.
"Sure," I snarled, my lip curling in anger again.
"Did you betray Lily and James Potter to You-Know-Who?"
I closed my eyes and thought again of the rat. The rat that didn't deserve to live. I'd read in Muggle Studies class, so many years ago when I was still a student at Hogwarts, about the Black Plague that had overtaken London, and how it had spread viciously from person to person, until it had killed nearly everyone. This was just another one of those rats, spreading the Plague.
"I won't deny it," I whispered hoarsely, and then barely audible, "I didn't catch him in time."
"Well," said Fudge, stuffing his parchment and quill that he had used to make notes with into his robes, "I suppose that's it, isn't it. If you're not going to answer any questions sensibly and even plead innocent, I see no hope for you. Goodbye, Black."
I didn't say anything, just watched him go, and heard the door clang shut again as he left the corridor. I smiled.
I will find him.
And I will kill him.
Peter Pettigrew.