Disclaimer: If I owned the Harry Potter books. ahhh, well, I wouldn't be
here, I can tell you that much ^_^
***
The high security cell of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement was cold, very cold. The gloomy room contained little furniture - a plank for a bed and a hard, wooden chair. A dementor stood at the doorway, ever vigilant, waiting for the people who would decide the prisoner's fate to arrive.
The captive had long ago stopped laughing; he was silent, dwelling on the events of the past twenty-four hours. It had used to be him, bringing prisoners to this small, dim cell to await trial under allegations of heinous crimes and use of dark magic. Now the roles were reversed. Many of them had sobbed and screamed. He had done neither.
He chuckled sardonically; James had never meant it to end up like this. They had planned ever so carefully. Wormtail, the rat, the traitor, would be secret keeper. No one would suspect him. Then it turned out that all along, he had been the spy. The prisoner cursed to himself, under his breath. He had expected Remus to be the spy, Remus the werewolf. It just showed that he was another one with prejudices clouding his eyes. He was supposed to have been a loyal friend.
The door opened noiselessly and three men entered. The foremost of them was a harsh man, used to dealing out sentences for life, sentences of death. He was young for the role he played in Wizard Britain, barely forty years old but everyone knew he was as ruthless and as tough as Lord Voldemort himself.
Bartemius Crouch's cold, hard eyes looked into the sad depths of the prisoner's blue ones. After a moment he tore his gaze away.
Sirius Black waited for the verdict to fall, not caring what would happen. The numbness he had felt when he had seen his best friends' bodies lying in the smoking ruins of their once quaint little cottage had not gone. He could not wipe away the image of their infant son, Harry, clinging to his mother's lifeless body, the cut on his forehead oozing blood. He felt like he was moving in treacle.
When the words came, it took a while for them to penetrate the heaviness surrounding his brain.
"Take him to Azkaban - without a trial."
A Sirius Tale
Chapter 1: Life at Number 12
Silence reigned in the dim dining room with its walls of heavy green wallpaper, the evil looking candle brackets and the serpent-shaped doorknobs. No sound could be heard but the regular chomp, chomp of people eating.
Sirius Black attacked his bacon and eggs with relish. He felt like he had not eaten for days. Of course he had eaten just the night before but that was beside the point.
The door leading out to the hallway opened and Kreacher, the Black family house elf entered the room bearing a silver platter on which lay a parchment envelope addressed in emerald ink.
The family paused in their eating. Sirius's mother and his brother looked towards the door but his father remained firmly ensconced behind The Daily Prophet.
"A letter for Master Sirius," squeaked Kreacher in his high-pitched voice. Sirius did a double take. Nobody ever sent him mail. The only people he knew, he saw on a regular basis. He had never had a letter in his life.
He took it from the platter Kreacher was offering and examined it carefully, at a loss to guess who it could be from. It was quite thick, the parchment was obviously good quality and it was sealed with a coat of arms; an 'H' with a lion, a badger, an eagle and a snake entwined around it.
Of course, thought Sirius, mentally kicking himself, Hogwarts.
The letter was addressed to:
Mr S. Black
The First Top Floor Bedroom
12 Grimmauld Place
London
Kreacher had already thoughtfully slit the envelope open so Sirius pulled out the folded parchment inside and shook it open.
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
Headmaster: Armando Dippet
(Order of Merlin, 1st class; Head of the Dark Force Defense League)
Dear Mr Black,
We are pleased to inform you that you have a place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. Term begins on 1st September. We await your owl by no later than 23rd August. Yours Sincerely, Albus Dumbledore, Deputy Headmaster.
Sirius waved the letter in the general direction of his parents, "my Hogwarts letter," he said, breaking the heavy silence.
His mother held out her slim white hand for it and Sirius handed it over.
Artemis Black was a tall, arrogant, aristocratic woman of around forty- nine. She had black hair and piercing slate gray eyes that were hard as pieces of steel. She was pureblooded to the core, having been born into the Malfoy family and had married a Black, two of the oldest lineages of the wizarding world.
She perused the letter, her lips pursed.
"They are late this year. Send your owl by the 23rd? That's today. Kreacher!"
The devoted house elf came running, almost tripping over as he attempted to bow whilst still moving, "Yes mistress?"
"Kreacher, bring me my parchment and quill."
The house elf backed out reverently, his nose still touching the floor and presently returned bearing the required paraphernalia.
Mrs. Black composed a letter quickly, sealed it and handed it back to Kreacher. "Send this to Hogwarts immediately," she then turned to Sirius and his brother Regulus, "we will visit Diagon Alley tomorrow. I would have preferred to go today but your Aunt Antonia is coming to lunch and is bringing Andromeda and Narcissa with her."
Sirius and Regulus's ears perked up, they had heard tales of this legendary street, packed with shops of every kind, big and small, stocking the strangest goods and produce but they had never been there.
Just then Sirius's father actually laid down his newspaper and spoke.
This was a rare occurrence to say the least. Normally, Stephen Black stayed behind the Prophet for the duration of breakfast before heading off to do whatever he did during the day.
Sirius barely knew his father. To him, Stephen Black's hawk-like features belonged to the mysterious man who was always sat at the head of the dining room table.
Martha, the house elf who was in charge of Sirius and Regulus's well-being had always maintained that their father was a highly important and influential man who must not be bothered or questioned about his work.
Once, when Sirius was six, their cousin, Bellatrix had cursed her sister Andromeda in a fit of temper. She had been summoned downstairs to be interviewed by the adults, and to explain herself and had come back very silent and withdrawn - for about an hour.
The threat of being 'sent to see your father' had always been the last resort as far as Martha was concerned, she had never told the two why it was so terrible, but it was enough to scare them into submission.
Mr Black's voice was deep and he had a distinct aura of being very powerful.
"It says here, old Armando Dippet will be retiring in June," he rumbled, "Albus Dumbledore will be taking his place." It sounded as though this piece of news did not please him, but his face showed nothing.
In the meantime, Regulus had been carefully studying the headline on the front page of the newspaper, Another Muggle Killed: fourth in two months.
"Mother?"
"Yes Regulus?" Their mother sounded slightly bored.
"Why are mudbloods inferior to us?"
"There is no why about it Regulus. What have you been taught? Our blood is pure. That's the way it is, that's the way it always has been and that's the way it hopefully always will be."
Mr Black rose to his feet, "Now, I have an important meeting with the Minister." He left the room with a purposeful stride. Everything he did was purposeful; he was a man who went through life with purpose.
"Sirius! For goodness sake, keep your elbows off the table."
Sirius scowled, "yes Mother."
"And I want you both to be clean and tidy for lunch, Martha will make sure you are. You may leave the table."
Number twelve Grimmauld Place, London, the ancient home of the Black family was a very tall building, taller than the muggle terraced houses that surrounded it like a guard of honour. It had five floors in all, and Sirius and Regulus lived on the very top floor.
It was, and always will be a mystery to everyone as to why Sirius's ancestors had chosen to build the family home in such close proximity to muggles, especially considering the pureblooded mania that ran in the veins of the family. No one could ever quite work it out.
Regulus was the younger of the pair now climbing the wide, sweeping staircases, but as he told anyone and everyone who would listen, only by eleven months. He and Sirius had the same black hair, dancing blue eyes and mischievous, adventurous spirit.
Their parents inhabited a glittering society world, full of powerful, wealthy wizards and expensively dressed witches, all trying to come out on top of everyone else. Mr and Mrs. Black spent their time attending magnificent soirées, grand balls and lavish cocktail parties. In return, they hosted their own. Regulus and Sirius would crane their necks over the banisters and were sometimes even permitted to attend, although, this was rare.
The two were inseparable, mainly due to the fact that they did not meet many children of their own ages, or indeed many children at all. There were naturally, numerous cousins to socialise with, but the only ones they really knew were the three daughters of their father's brother, Bellatrix, Andromeda and Narcissa. However, the lack of company did not make them in the least bit unhappy. They were perfectly content in their own small world.
The duo ran up the grand, oak flights of stairs that led up to the upper regions of the house. They dashed along passageways, past open and shut doors, up more staircases until they stopped, panting, at the foot of the stairs leading up to the top floor, to regain their breath.
"D'you want to play war?" asked Regulus hopefully.
"OK," agreed Sirius as they mounted the final staircase.
The two boys had the entire top landing to themselves. Consequently, it was the shabbiest part of the house, and the only bit that looked like someone actually lived in it. There were two bedrooms, the playroom, the schoolroom and the tiny room where Martha slept.
Their parents had wanted their sons to be well educated as befitted young boys of the upper classes. A tutor, going under the name of Mr Sean Daglish, came four days of the week and taught them mathematics, Latin, Greek, French, History of Magic and most importantly, what their role would be when they were grown-up and out in the Wizarding World. Their tutor was, in keeping with what was normal in their world, related to them, a second cousin, once removed in fact.
The pair burst explosively through the door of their playroom and started dragging the boxes of toys off the unstable shelves.
"Can I be Grindlewald?" asked Regulus as they set them up.
Sirius considered the proposition for a while, as he always did, "OK, but I can have the chimaera.
"War" was the make-believe game Sirius and Regulus had invented many, many years before. It was based very loosely on the Grindlewald Wars, the fight between good and evil that had ended about fifteen years before Sirius was born.
Regulus was always Grindlewald during these games, and Sirius was always Dumbledore. They deployed their toy armies against each other with carefully calculated battle plans you would not normally find in the heads of ten and eleven year olds. However, they were Blacks after all.
Martha was deeply disapproving of these entanglements, the main objective of which, it is sad to say, was to completely obliterate your opponent. She had lived through what people referred to as "The Dark Times" and seen with her own eyes, the horror and carnage. However, she could do little to stop them.
Regulus thought very hard about Sirius's deal before agreeing to it, as he always did. They always fought over the chimaera, whose name was Andrew. He was seen as being something of a lucky amulet of whoever's side he was on.
"Wait a minute Sirius," said Regulus, frowning, as they sat facing each other from opposite sides of the playroom, their troops arrayed between them, "isn't Mr Daglish coming today?"
"It's Monday Reg," said Sirius, whilst he tried to pick the best place in which to put a manticore, "he doesn't come on Mondays."
"Oh, yeah," muttered Regulus, duly snubbed by his elder brother, and so, the battle commenced.
***
A/N: So, like it? Hate it? Tell me. I'm like a vampire, except I feed on reviews not blood :)
***
The high security cell of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement was cold, very cold. The gloomy room contained little furniture - a plank for a bed and a hard, wooden chair. A dementor stood at the doorway, ever vigilant, waiting for the people who would decide the prisoner's fate to arrive.
The captive had long ago stopped laughing; he was silent, dwelling on the events of the past twenty-four hours. It had used to be him, bringing prisoners to this small, dim cell to await trial under allegations of heinous crimes and use of dark magic. Now the roles were reversed. Many of them had sobbed and screamed. He had done neither.
He chuckled sardonically; James had never meant it to end up like this. They had planned ever so carefully. Wormtail, the rat, the traitor, would be secret keeper. No one would suspect him. Then it turned out that all along, he had been the spy. The prisoner cursed to himself, under his breath. He had expected Remus to be the spy, Remus the werewolf. It just showed that he was another one with prejudices clouding his eyes. He was supposed to have been a loyal friend.
The door opened noiselessly and three men entered. The foremost of them was a harsh man, used to dealing out sentences for life, sentences of death. He was young for the role he played in Wizard Britain, barely forty years old but everyone knew he was as ruthless and as tough as Lord Voldemort himself.
Bartemius Crouch's cold, hard eyes looked into the sad depths of the prisoner's blue ones. After a moment he tore his gaze away.
Sirius Black waited for the verdict to fall, not caring what would happen. The numbness he had felt when he had seen his best friends' bodies lying in the smoking ruins of their once quaint little cottage had not gone. He could not wipe away the image of their infant son, Harry, clinging to his mother's lifeless body, the cut on his forehead oozing blood. He felt like he was moving in treacle.
When the words came, it took a while for them to penetrate the heaviness surrounding his brain.
"Take him to Azkaban - without a trial."
A Sirius Tale
Chapter 1: Life at Number 12
Silence reigned in the dim dining room with its walls of heavy green wallpaper, the evil looking candle brackets and the serpent-shaped doorknobs. No sound could be heard but the regular chomp, chomp of people eating.
Sirius Black attacked his bacon and eggs with relish. He felt like he had not eaten for days. Of course he had eaten just the night before but that was beside the point.
The door leading out to the hallway opened and Kreacher, the Black family house elf entered the room bearing a silver platter on which lay a parchment envelope addressed in emerald ink.
The family paused in their eating. Sirius's mother and his brother looked towards the door but his father remained firmly ensconced behind The Daily Prophet.
"A letter for Master Sirius," squeaked Kreacher in his high-pitched voice. Sirius did a double take. Nobody ever sent him mail. The only people he knew, he saw on a regular basis. He had never had a letter in his life.
He took it from the platter Kreacher was offering and examined it carefully, at a loss to guess who it could be from. It was quite thick, the parchment was obviously good quality and it was sealed with a coat of arms; an 'H' with a lion, a badger, an eagle and a snake entwined around it.
Of course, thought Sirius, mentally kicking himself, Hogwarts.
The letter was addressed to:
Mr S. Black
The First Top Floor Bedroom
12 Grimmauld Place
London
Kreacher had already thoughtfully slit the envelope open so Sirius pulled out the folded parchment inside and shook it open.
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
Headmaster: Armando Dippet
(Order of Merlin, 1st class; Head of the Dark Force Defense League)
Dear Mr Black,
We are pleased to inform you that you have a place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. Term begins on 1st September. We await your owl by no later than 23rd August. Yours Sincerely, Albus Dumbledore, Deputy Headmaster.
Sirius waved the letter in the general direction of his parents, "my Hogwarts letter," he said, breaking the heavy silence.
His mother held out her slim white hand for it and Sirius handed it over.
Artemis Black was a tall, arrogant, aristocratic woman of around forty- nine. She had black hair and piercing slate gray eyes that were hard as pieces of steel. She was pureblooded to the core, having been born into the Malfoy family and had married a Black, two of the oldest lineages of the wizarding world.
She perused the letter, her lips pursed.
"They are late this year. Send your owl by the 23rd? That's today. Kreacher!"
The devoted house elf came running, almost tripping over as he attempted to bow whilst still moving, "Yes mistress?"
"Kreacher, bring me my parchment and quill."
The house elf backed out reverently, his nose still touching the floor and presently returned bearing the required paraphernalia.
Mrs. Black composed a letter quickly, sealed it and handed it back to Kreacher. "Send this to Hogwarts immediately," she then turned to Sirius and his brother Regulus, "we will visit Diagon Alley tomorrow. I would have preferred to go today but your Aunt Antonia is coming to lunch and is bringing Andromeda and Narcissa with her."
Sirius and Regulus's ears perked up, they had heard tales of this legendary street, packed with shops of every kind, big and small, stocking the strangest goods and produce but they had never been there.
Just then Sirius's father actually laid down his newspaper and spoke.
This was a rare occurrence to say the least. Normally, Stephen Black stayed behind the Prophet for the duration of breakfast before heading off to do whatever he did during the day.
Sirius barely knew his father. To him, Stephen Black's hawk-like features belonged to the mysterious man who was always sat at the head of the dining room table.
Martha, the house elf who was in charge of Sirius and Regulus's well-being had always maintained that their father was a highly important and influential man who must not be bothered or questioned about his work.
Once, when Sirius was six, their cousin, Bellatrix had cursed her sister Andromeda in a fit of temper. She had been summoned downstairs to be interviewed by the adults, and to explain herself and had come back very silent and withdrawn - for about an hour.
The threat of being 'sent to see your father' had always been the last resort as far as Martha was concerned, she had never told the two why it was so terrible, but it was enough to scare them into submission.
Mr Black's voice was deep and he had a distinct aura of being very powerful.
"It says here, old Armando Dippet will be retiring in June," he rumbled, "Albus Dumbledore will be taking his place." It sounded as though this piece of news did not please him, but his face showed nothing.
In the meantime, Regulus had been carefully studying the headline on the front page of the newspaper, Another Muggle Killed: fourth in two months.
"Mother?"
"Yes Regulus?" Their mother sounded slightly bored.
"Why are mudbloods inferior to us?"
"There is no why about it Regulus. What have you been taught? Our blood is pure. That's the way it is, that's the way it always has been and that's the way it hopefully always will be."
Mr Black rose to his feet, "Now, I have an important meeting with the Minister." He left the room with a purposeful stride. Everything he did was purposeful; he was a man who went through life with purpose.
"Sirius! For goodness sake, keep your elbows off the table."
Sirius scowled, "yes Mother."
"And I want you both to be clean and tidy for lunch, Martha will make sure you are. You may leave the table."
Number twelve Grimmauld Place, London, the ancient home of the Black family was a very tall building, taller than the muggle terraced houses that surrounded it like a guard of honour. It had five floors in all, and Sirius and Regulus lived on the very top floor.
It was, and always will be a mystery to everyone as to why Sirius's ancestors had chosen to build the family home in such close proximity to muggles, especially considering the pureblooded mania that ran in the veins of the family. No one could ever quite work it out.
Regulus was the younger of the pair now climbing the wide, sweeping staircases, but as he told anyone and everyone who would listen, only by eleven months. He and Sirius had the same black hair, dancing blue eyes and mischievous, adventurous spirit.
Their parents inhabited a glittering society world, full of powerful, wealthy wizards and expensively dressed witches, all trying to come out on top of everyone else. Mr and Mrs. Black spent their time attending magnificent soirées, grand balls and lavish cocktail parties. In return, they hosted their own. Regulus and Sirius would crane their necks over the banisters and were sometimes even permitted to attend, although, this was rare.
The two were inseparable, mainly due to the fact that they did not meet many children of their own ages, or indeed many children at all. There were naturally, numerous cousins to socialise with, but the only ones they really knew were the three daughters of their father's brother, Bellatrix, Andromeda and Narcissa. However, the lack of company did not make them in the least bit unhappy. They were perfectly content in their own small world.
The duo ran up the grand, oak flights of stairs that led up to the upper regions of the house. They dashed along passageways, past open and shut doors, up more staircases until they stopped, panting, at the foot of the stairs leading up to the top floor, to regain their breath.
"D'you want to play war?" asked Regulus hopefully.
"OK," agreed Sirius as they mounted the final staircase.
The two boys had the entire top landing to themselves. Consequently, it was the shabbiest part of the house, and the only bit that looked like someone actually lived in it. There were two bedrooms, the playroom, the schoolroom and the tiny room where Martha slept.
Their parents had wanted their sons to be well educated as befitted young boys of the upper classes. A tutor, going under the name of Mr Sean Daglish, came four days of the week and taught them mathematics, Latin, Greek, French, History of Magic and most importantly, what their role would be when they were grown-up and out in the Wizarding World. Their tutor was, in keeping with what was normal in their world, related to them, a second cousin, once removed in fact.
The pair burst explosively through the door of their playroom and started dragging the boxes of toys off the unstable shelves.
"Can I be Grindlewald?" asked Regulus as they set them up.
Sirius considered the proposition for a while, as he always did, "OK, but I can have the chimaera.
"War" was the make-believe game Sirius and Regulus had invented many, many years before. It was based very loosely on the Grindlewald Wars, the fight between good and evil that had ended about fifteen years before Sirius was born.
Regulus was always Grindlewald during these games, and Sirius was always Dumbledore. They deployed their toy armies against each other with carefully calculated battle plans you would not normally find in the heads of ten and eleven year olds. However, they were Blacks after all.
Martha was deeply disapproving of these entanglements, the main objective of which, it is sad to say, was to completely obliterate your opponent. She had lived through what people referred to as "The Dark Times" and seen with her own eyes, the horror and carnage. However, she could do little to stop them.
Regulus thought very hard about Sirius's deal before agreeing to it, as he always did. They always fought over the chimaera, whose name was Andrew. He was seen as being something of a lucky amulet of whoever's side he was on.
"Wait a minute Sirius," said Regulus, frowning, as they sat facing each other from opposite sides of the playroom, their troops arrayed between them, "isn't Mr Daglish coming today?"
"It's Monday Reg," said Sirius, whilst he tried to pick the best place in which to put a manticore, "he doesn't come on Mondays."
"Oh, yeah," muttered Regulus, duly snubbed by his elder brother, and so, the battle commenced.
***
A/N: So, like it? Hate it? Tell me. I'm like a vampire, except I feed on reviews not blood :)