CHAPTER 11
Prisoner Number 8175
It was Christmas Eve of 1991 and Sirius Black was in no condition to celebrate. For ten years he had been living in Azkaban, knowing fully well that he was innocent. He still had not gotten over the death of Marcus O'Dell, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't get the image of Marcus out of his head. Sirius Black was not the only prisoner in Azkaban that had no cause to celebrate Christmas, in fact, no one had cause to celebrate, not even the Warden. The Warden had recently learned that the Wizengamot would be investigating rumors of the cruel treatment he gave to his prisoners. It was snowing on the main land, but was pouring down rain on Azkaban island. A week of rain showers had made the already miserable living conditions a whole lot worse.
The prisoners hated winter because of the freezing air that came through their barred windows, they had nothing to cover up with. Sirius had come down with a very bad cold and had not felt well enough to attend social hour for the past two sundays. So, there he sat, rotting slowly away in his cramped cell, seemingly destined to sit here for the rest of his life. He hoped that his life would end soon. He sneezed rather violently, rubbed his nose, and then rolled over with his legs tucked tight to his torso in the hopes of generating some much needed heat. He had nothing to wipe his nose with, not even his robes which were covered in mucus, dirt, and some other bodily fluids. This trash on his robes was ten years worth of filth.
He had learned the day before that he would be getting a new neighbor in cell 324. Davies, the last occupier of 324, had died recently of Tuberculosis. Sirius had been forced to listen to the violent coughs that Davies gave during his last few nights alive; it was a terrible and painful sound that kept Sirius up all night for three straight days. When the disease first started affecting Davies, Davies asked the Warden if he could be treated at St. Mungo's. The Warden just began to laugh and laughed loudly all the way back to his office. So with Davies dead, Cell 324 was open for rent and, in no time at all, some one had done something bad enough to be allowed to occupy it.
Sirius had learned that the prisoner would be arriving on Christmas Day. Some Christmas present, eh? He thought to himself. Sirius did not know the name of the incoming prisoner or his crime, just the length of his sentence: Life.
So, on Christmas morning, Sirius Black awoke a little earlier than usual to get a good look at the new prisoner of Azkaban. It was thirty minutes before he heard the sound of footsteps coming closer towards him. The Warden was in the lead, and behind him, was a well built, red headed man that had to have been the prisoner. He had a worried, but determined look about him. Sirius admired this about the criminal. The Warden had that evil smile about him, he always smiled when there was a new addition to his kingdom, it made him feel important.
The Warden ordered the prisoner to stop when they arrived at cell number 324. The Warden opened the cell and then turned to face the prisoner. "Welcome to cell 324 prisoner 8175." The Warden said, pushing the prisoner into the crampt confines of cell 324. "Have a Happy Christmas." The Warden sneered before slamming the cell door shut. The Warden laughed at this joke all the way down the hall. Sirius waited for a few moments, sneezed, and then began to speak to the new prisoner.
"Hey buddy, you hear me?"
"Yeah." The prisoner grunted.
"You just come from the world?" Sirius inquired.
"What's it matter to you?" the inmate replied.
"I'm homesick." Sirius said shortly.
The inmate hid a small chuckle then said, "Good for you."
"I'm Black, Sirius Black." Sirius said, ignoring this last comment.
There was a small pause as the man in the neighboring cell registered the man's name, then replied simply, "Gregory McBride."
"So," McBride began, "You're Sirius Black?"
"Yeah, that's right McBride."
In that short conversation, Sirius Black had found himself a new prison buddy.
It was now the first sunday of McBride's imprisonment and was surprised to learn that Azkaban had a social hour for its prisoners. It was on this Sunday that Sirius had gotten his first good look at Gregory. He was rather young, maybe twenty-five and had a large mustache and a large nose. He had light blue eyes and a rounded face. He spoke with an Irish accent and seemed to have automatically taken a liking to Sirius Black.
"So," Sirius began when they had entered the Court Yard, "how much has the magical community changed this past decade?"
"Not much," said McBride, "Cornelius Fudge being made Minister of Magic is about the biggest thing to 'ave happened."
"Fudge is Minister of Magic?" Sirius said puzzled, "I would have thought that Bartemus Crouch had that position in the palm of his hand."
"Times change Sirius," McBride began, "Crouch lost popular support when he handled his son so brutally."
"Yeah I saw Crouch's son brought in back in '81." Sirius said smartly.
"I've heard a lot about you Sirius," Said McBride, changing the subject, "Your name's a legend in the Underworld."
"I'm so honored." Sirius said with sarcasam.
McBride seemed to have caught this because he raised his eyebrows.
"I'm not what you think," Sirius added, seeing the expression on McBride's face, "I am innocent, I did not commit those murders."
"Yeah, whatever." McBride said with a chuckle, "I get the joke."
"It's not a joke," Sirius said sharply, "I am not the guilty one, it was Peter Pettigrew."
McBride smiled and then that smile turned into laughter. "Yeah, sure Sirius, whatever you say." McBride said, finally getting a hold of himself.
"No one believes me." Sirius muttered.
The smile faded from McBride's face, replaced with a frown.
"You actually believe you're innocent," McBride said slowly, "You're not being funny."
"Of course I'm not," Snapped Sirius, "I've told a lot of people that I am innocent and the only ones who seem to believe me are the Death Eaters."
There was an ackward silence, broken after about ten seconds when McBride finally said, "It's like my mother always said: The truth will set you free."
"Yeah," Sirius began, "The truth will set ME free." He laughed and then abruptly changed the subject of conversation.
Prisoner Number 8175
It was Christmas Eve of 1991 and Sirius Black was in no condition to celebrate. For ten years he had been living in Azkaban, knowing fully well that he was innocent. He still had not gotten over the death of Marcus O'Dell, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't get the image of Marcus out of his head. Sirius Black was not the only prisoner in Azkaban that had no cause to celebrate Christmas, in fact, no one had cause to celebrate, not even the Warden. The Warden had recently learned that the Wizengamot would be investigating rumors of the cruel treatment he gave to his prisoners. It was snowing on the main land, but was pouring down rain on Azkaban island. A week of rain showers had made the already miserable living conditions a whole lot worse.
The prisoners hated winter because of the freezing air that came through their barred windows, they had nothing to cover up with. Sirius had come down with a very bad cold and had not felt well enough to attend social hour for the past two sundays. So, there he sat, rotting slowly away in his cramped cell, seemingly destined to sit here for the rest of his life. He hoped that his life would end soon. He sneezed rather violently, rubbed his nose, and then rolled over with his legs tucked tight to his torso in the hopes of generating some much needed heat. He had nothing to wipe his nose with, not even his robes which were covered in mucus, dirt, and some other bodily fluids. This trash on his robes was ten years worth of filth.
He had learned the day before that he would be getting a new neighbor in cell 324. Davies, the last occupier of 324, had died recently of Tuberculosis. Sirius had been forced to listen to the violent coughs that Davies gave during his last few nights alive; it was a terrible and painful sound that kept Sirius up all night for three straight days. When the disease first started affecting Davies, Davies asked the Warden if he could be treated at St. Mungo's. The Warden just began to laugh and laughed loudly all the way back to his office. So with Davies dead, Cell 324 was open for rent and, in no time at all, some one had done something bad enough to be allowed to occupy it.
Sirius had learned that the prisoner would be arriving on Christmas Day. Some Christmas present, eh? He thought to himself. Sirius did not know the name of the incoming prisoner or his crime, just the length of his sentence: Life.
So, on Christmas morning, Sirius Black awoke a little earlier than usual to get a good look at the new prisoner of Azkaban. It was thirty minutes before he heard the sound of footsteps coming closer towards him. The Warden was in the lead, and behind him, was a well built, red headed man that had to have been the prisoner. He had a worried, but determined look about him. Sirius admired this about the criminal. The Warden had that evil smile about him, he always smiled when there was a new addition to his kingdom, it made him feel important.
The Warden ordered the prisoner to stop when they arrived at cell number 324. The Warden opened the cell and then turned to face the prisoner. "Welcome to cell 324 prisoner 8175." The Warden said, pushing the prisoner into the crampt confines of cell 324. "Have a Happy Christmas." The Warden sneered before slamming the cell door shut. The Warden laughed at this joke all the way down the hall. Sirius waited for a few moments, sneezed, and then began to speak to the new prisoner.
"Hey buddy, you hear me?"
"Yeah." The prisoner grunted.
"You just come from the world?" Sirius inquired.
"What's it matter to you?" the inmate replied.
"I'm homesick." Sirius said shortly.
The inmate hid a small chuckle then said, "Good for you."
"I'm Black, Sirius Black." Sirius said, ignoring this last comment.
There was a small pause as the man in the neighboring cell registered the man's name, then replied simply, "Gregory McBride."
"So," McBride began, "You're Sirius Black?"
"Yeah, that's right McBride."
In that short conversation, Sirius Black had found himself a new prison buddy.
It was now the first sunday of McBride's imprisonment and was surprised to learn that Azkaban had a social hour for its prisoners. It was on this Sunday that Sirius had gotten his first good look at Gregory. He was rather young, maybe twenty-five and had a large mustache and a large nose. He had light blue eyes and a rounded face. He spoke with an Irish accent and seemed to have automatically taken a liking to Sirius Black.
"So," Sirius began when they had entered the Court Yard, "how much has the magical community changed this past decade?"
"Not much," said McBride, "Cornelius Fudge being made Minister of Magic is about the biggest thing to 'ave happened."
"Fudge is Minister of Magic?" Sirius said puzzled, "I would have thought that Bartemus Crouch had that position in the palm of his hand."
"Times change Sirius," McBride began, "Crouch lost popular support when he handled his son so brutally."
"Yeah I saw Crouch's son brought in back in '81." Sirius said smartly.
"I've heard a lot about you Sirius," Said McBride, changing the subject, "Your name's a legend in the Underworld."
"I'm so honored." Sirius said with sarcasam.
McBride seemed to have caught this because he raised his eyebrows.
"I'm not what you think," Sirius added, seeing the expression on McBride's face, "I am innocent, I did not commit those murders."
"Yeah, whatever." McBride said with a chuckle, "I get the joke."
"It's not a joke," Sirius said sharply, "I am not the guilty one, it was Peter Pettigrew."
McBride smiled and then that smile turned into laughter. "Yeah, sure Sirius, whatever you say." McBride said, finally getting a hold of himself.
"No one believes me." Sirius muttered.
The smile faded from McBride's face, replaced with a frown.
"You actually believe you're innocent," McBride said slowly, "You're not being funny."
"Of course I'm not," Snapped Sirius, "I've told a lot of people that I am innocent and the only ones who seem to believe me are the Death Eaters."
There was an ackward silence, broken after about ten seconds when McBride finally said, "It's like my mother always said: The truth will set you free."
"Yeah," Sirius began, "The truth will set ME free." He laughed and then abruptly changed the subject of conversation.