A Little Note: Well, here it is everyone, the sequel to It Was Only Mentioned. It's more of a companion, you don't really have to have read the IWOM, the stories are simply intertwined is all. I hope it lives up to IWOM, I'm not sure!
Disclaimer: All characters are copyright of JK Rowling.
Rating: PG-13 for angst.
Prologue – Azkaban
He was thin, so thin that it seemed that the bars that surrounded him were larger than he. A slice of bread was thrown into his cell by one of the tall, looming dementors, and Sirius shuddered.
Innocent.
"AAARRRGH!" someone screamed from beside him. It was a Death Eater, he vaguely remembered a youthful face and a name that he couldn't quite place.
Innocent.
He transformed into a big black dog and he moved back into the corner. He pawed at his dry nose and kneeled into a tight ball, rocking slightly. His fur was standing on end, as it always did in the prison. Sirius felt eyes glaring at him from another cell and he turned to see Bellatrix looking at him. She was only here for a few days as usual, it was like punishment, being put near Sirius's cell, a scare tactic. He thought it slightly amusing, but amusement was a happy thought, and a happy thought was never kept long.
Innocent.
He barked at her and she started, nearly jumping into the air. The dementors turned around, but they couldn't see him, could hardly feel him. But he was going mad, just like the rest of them. They unlocked Bellatrix's cell and two of them grabbed her under the arms and took her off to who knows where. She screamed, "NO! HE'S AN ANIMAGUS, GET HIM!" But they didn't listen to her, they dragged her away, kicking and screaming.
Innocent.
Footsteps were coming, toward him. He was alone except for the Death Eater beside him, hastily he transformed back into the once-handsome, decaying human form just in time as Cornelius Fudge came walking down the tall, dank, dark corridor, surrounded by his assistants. Sirius gulped, but he really had no need, Cornelius was as nervous as a baby bird. He was literally shaking in his boots.
Innocent.
"Minister," Sirius croaked, his voice sounded as if it hadn't been used in a while. "Good –, well I'm not sure what time of day it is anymore."
Cornelius jumped at being addressed so calmly by one of the prisoners of Azkaban. "I believe its afternoon," he looked at one of his associates who nodded. "Yes, afternoon, Black."
"Lovely," Sirius's voice was sarcastic, and he leaned against the wall of his cell, his arms crossed, the ever persistent voice in his mind whispering quietly:
Innocent.
The whole thing was an act, he had little human interaction in the prison, as it was to be. Only other prisoners, and they were constantly changing and constantly, unless new arrivals, going madder by the minute. "Minister, how's Harry?" Sirius asked, tentatively. He knew this was a risky question to ask and that Cornelius would hardly answer.
"I-well, he's, he's fine. As fine as can be expected after, well, after you know," he stuttered, looking incredibly bemused. Here was this high-security prisoner acting completely sane. One walk through the halls of Azkaban and Cornelius was positively shaking for a week afterward. It baffled him, and his innards jerked uneasily.
"Good," Sirius responded as the minister shuffled something to the other arm. "Oh, is that the Prophet? I used to be pretty good at the crosswords. I miss it. Do you think I could have a go at them?"
Cornelius looked at the paper then back at the man in the cell. Azkaban had not left him unscathed, he was so thin that his cheek bones stuck out horribly, his ribs were showing through the torn rags that covered him, and his calf bones seemed to want to protrude through the skin. His hair hung in filthy mats to his shoulders and his fingernails were claw-like, only being cut once a six months. "I, I guess, I don't see why not," he said. The minister held out his hand with the paper clutched between his fingers and his palm. As Sirius's claw hands grasped the paper, a squat woman to the left of the minister made a strangled noise and held out her hand, but did nothing else. "Yes, well, must visit the other prisoners, good afternoon," and the group hurried off, still slightly nerved by the sane man they had just encountered.
Innocent.
Sirius had every intention of turning to the crossword, he needed something to take his mind off of the prison, but his eye caught something on the front page. There was a picture of a family called Weasley. He counted them, some of their names familiar, Arthur, Molly, Bill, Charlie, Percy, a set of twins, another boy that Sirius did not know the name of, and then, a little girl. He read the article above the picture.
Ministry of Magic Employee
Scoops Grand Prize
Arthur Weasley, Head of the Misuse of Muggle Ar-
tifacts Office at the Ministry of Magic, has won the
annual Daily Prophet Grand Prize Galleon Draw.
A delighted Mr. Weasley told the Daily Prophet,
"We will be spending the gold on a summer holi-
day in Egypt, where our eldest son, Bill, works as a
curse breaker for Gringotts Wizarding Bank."
The Weasley family will be spending a month in
Egypt, returning for the start of the new school
year at Hogwarts, which five of the Weasley chil-
dren currently attend.
Sirius looked back at the photograph. The family was standing in front of a tall pyramid and he knew, though the photograph, being black and white, did not show it, they all had flaming red hair and their noses and cheeks were sprinkled with numerous freckles. He smiled a rare smile, knowing that someone was happy now. But his eyes caught something on the youngest boy's shoulder, it was a rat. A rat that looked very familiar to Sirius, a rat that had once been one of his best friends, a rat that had become a traitor, with a toe missing from his left paw, a rat that was supposed to be dead. He clutched the paper, almost tearing it, a new flame erupting deep within him. It was a new weapon he had against the dementors, a new weapon against insanity. It was a scar left on his very soul.
Obsession.
That night, and every night afterward, the dementors heard Sirius whispering in his sleep, "He's at Hogwarts, at Hogwarts." Every night until, he escaped.