The Newcomer of Azkaban
By: KyleGranger342
Summary: The story of Sirius' time at Azkaban.
Chapter 2: The Package of Prison
The next morning Sirius was woke by the loud talking of people just outside of his cell. The sun from the barred window showing their faces with great detail. None of them he recognized except for the squeaky voiced man from the previous night.
"Good morning Mr. Black," said a cold voiced man from the center of the crowd. "I hope you had a good night's rest."
Sirius sat there looking confused a bit. He could barely remember a thing that had happened the night before. He lifted his hand to his forehead a rubbed it. He could feel a bump. I remember riding in a truck and hitting my head, he thought. Then he looked to his knees and shins. They were all scratched and bruised. The residue of blood stained on his ripped pants. Then it all came back to him at once, like a fast-forwarding video: Voldemort, James, Lily, Peter, Muggles, Prison, Dementors. Suddenly he leapt towards the steel bars protecting the crowd standing outside of it. He began screaming at them:
"It wasn't me," he shouted, "Lord Voldemort."
"Restrain him," said a man. The bars burst open and two large men came in grabbing him by the arms and lifting him slightly off the ground. The carried him out of the cell and down the hallway in which the torch was. They took him into a room not far from his cell. The room was a dark gray color. There was a clock on the wall that read six o clock, a bored in front of a window, and a camera.Sirius was still yelling. Screaming he didn't do it. They set him down. Sirius made an attempt to run but someone shouted, "Locomotor Mortis" and his legs were bound together. Sirius began swinging his arms, which cause him to fall to the ground. The two men who had carried him lifted him up and tied him to a board to keep him from falling down.
"Silencio," the cold voiced man said and Sirius' screams were no longer heard. Sirius continued to shout while muted swinging his head side to side. "Three . . . two . . . one." A flash came from a camera just in front of Sirius' face. When he noticed, he stopped screaming and listened. "Just for file," the man said. "Now, Mr. Black, within the past night . . . you have killed around 20 people. One of which was a wizard." Sirius began screaming in silence again. "Your trial for the murder of these people will be held in two weeks in front of the Ministry of Magic. In the mean time, you will remain here. You will be given three meals a day and an hour out in the yard."
A man that was long and skinny was fiddling with the camera. He removed the film and brought it over to a small desk that was hidden in the corner. A few moments later he came out of the dark corner and showed him the picture they had just took of him. His head moved side-to-side screaming. Underneath the picture was a number. "How does it look?" the long man said. Sirius began to lead forward as if he were going to attack him. "Now, now, Mr. Black, we wont put this in file until you are for sure staying." The long man looked at the cold voiced man who had previously spoke to him.
"Send him back to his cell," said a small man off to the side. The two large men grabbed him once more and brought him back to his cell.
He spent the next two hours sitting on the dusty floor looking at the wall, thinking. 'What should I do?' he thought, 'I'm afraid there might be no way out of this on- NO! I cant think that I gotta be positive. But I didn't do it. I didn't do anything!' He felt a head ache in the making. His brain was thinking about many things at one time. 'I'm gonna kill him. What if I never get outta her- NO! I will. I didn't do anything. I'm innoce- But no one knows that. Only . . . Peter.' His face scrunched together at the thought of that name.
Once the two hours had past, all of the cell doors opened themselves. He looked up and noticed. He peered out noticing all the other prisoners standing outside of their cells and begin heading down one flight of stairs from him in an orderly fashion.
'This could be my chance,' he thought. He turned to the opposite direction of the prisoners and made his way down the hallway that was on the right side of his cell. He tip-toed softly and quickly down the dark cement corridor. He didn't know where he was going but he was determined to find his way out. Sweat ran down his cheek. His hands were shaking and he was breathing heavily. He turned left and then right. He went down a flight of stairs in a doorway off to the left. He ran straight down the hallway and the bottom of the stairs. It was dark. He could barely see anything . . . except for a small light at the end of the corridor. He could barely make out the figure, but concluded it was a door. He darted at it. Excitement filled him. He was almost there. He had reached the half way point. The light was gone. He couldn't see it anymore. He stopped dead in his tracks. His skin began to feel awkward. The drops of his sweat on his cheek had froze. He could see his breath in front of him.
He heard a screeching noise, like nails on a chalk bored, coming from the end of the corridor. It stopped. He stared closely into the darkness. It could be heard again, only closer. He turned and began running back. He put his hand out so he could feel the wall for hallways and doors. He found another hallway and turned into it, still running. It seemed to be getting slightly lighter. He ran into a door. He shoved it open to a very large room. It was full of people. Everyone looked up at the sound of the door being slammed shut. The people were the prisoners. He must have found his way to the cafeteria where he would have gone if he followed the others. He continued running, speeding across the room to another door. The sound was now echoing throughout the room. He ran into the doors struggling to get them open, but they wouldn't. He turned around. A dementor emerged from the darkness screeching and heading straight at him. His heart was pounding. He didn't know what to do. Ideas were racing through his head, but none of them were possible without his wand or being stopped by one of the other dementors he now noticed floating at the top of the room. He knelt down and put his back to the locked door. He gave up.
The dementor grabbed him and brought him out of the room through the locked door Sirius attempted to go through.
By: KyleGranger342
Summary: The story of Sirius' time at Azkaban.
Chapter 2: The Package of Prison
The next morning Sirius was woke by the loud talking of people just outside of his cell. The sun from the barred window showing their faces with great detail. None of them he recognized except for the squeaky voiced man from the previous night.
"Good morning Mr. Black," said a cold voiced man from the center of the crowd. "I hope you had a good night's rest."
Sirius sat there looking confused a bit. He could barely remember a thing that had happened the night before. He lifted his hand to his forehead a rubbed it. He could feel a bump. I remember riding in a truck and hitting my head, he thought. Then he looked to his knees and shins. They were all scratched and bruised. The residue of blood stained on his ripped pants. Then it all came back to him at once, like a fast-forwarding video: Voldemort, James, Lily, Peter, Muggles, Prison, Dementors. Suddenly he leapt towards the steel bars protecting the crowd standing outside of it. He began screaming at them:
"It wasn't me," he shouted, "Lord Voldemort."
"Restrain him," said a man. The bars burst open and two large men came in grabbing him by the arms and lifting him slightly off the ground. The carried him out of the cell and down the hallway in which the torch was. They took him into a room not far from his cell. The room was a dark gray color. There was a clock on the wall that read six o clock, a bored in front of a window, and a camera.Sirius was still yelling. Screaming he didn't do it. They set him down. Sirius made an attempt to run but someone shouted, "Locomotor Mortis" and his legs were bound together. Sirius began swinging his arms, which cause him to fall to the ground. The two men who had carried him lifted him up and tied him to a board to keep him from falling down.
"Silencio," the cold voiced man said and Sirius' screams were no longer heard. Sirius continued to shout while muted swinging his head side to side. "Three . . . two . . . one." A flash came from a camera just in front of Sirius' face. When he noticed, he stopped screaming and listened. "Just for file," the man said. "Now, Mr. Black, within the past night . . . you have killed around 20 people. One of which was a wizard." Sirius began screaming in silence again. "Your trial for the murder of these people will be held in two weeks in front of the Ministry of Magic. In the mean time, you will remain here. You will be given three meals a day and an hour out in the yard."
A man that was long and skinny was fiddling with the camera. He removed the film and brought it over to a small desk that was hidden in the corner. A few moments later he came out of the dark corner and showed him the picture they had just took of him. His head moved side-to-side screaming. Underneath the picture was a number. "How does it look?" the long man said. Sirius began to lead forward as if he were going to attack him. "Now, now, Mr. Black, we wont put this in file until you are for sure staying." The long man looked at the cold voiced man who had previously spoke to him.
"Send him back to his cell," said a small man off to the side. The two large men grabbed him once more and brought him back to his cell.
He spent the next two hours sitting on the dusty floor looking at the wall, thinking. 'What should I do?' he thought, 'I'm afraid there might be no way out of this on- NO! I cant think that I gotta be positive. But I didn't do it. I didn't do anything!' He felt a head ache in the making. His brain was thinking about many things at one time. 'I'm gonna kill him. What if I never get outta her- NO! I will. I didn't do anything. I'm innoce- But no one knows that. Only . . . Peter.' His face scrunched together at the thought of that name.
Once the two hours had past, all of the cell doors opened themselves. He looked up and noticed. He peered out noticing all the other prisoners standing outside of their cells and begin heading down one flight of stairs from him in an orderly fashion.
'This could be my chance,' he thought. He turned to the opposite direction of the prisoners and made his way down the hallway that was on the right side of his cell. He tip-toed softly and quickly down the dark cement corridor. He didn't know where he was going but he was determined to find his way out. Sweat ran down his cheek. His hands were shaking and he was breathing heavily. He turned left and then right. He went down a flight of stairs in a doorway off to the left. He ran straight down the hallway and the bottom of the stairs. It was dark. He could barely see anything . . . except for a small light at the end of the corridor. He could barely make out the figure, but concluded it was a door. He darted at it. Excitement filled him. He was almost there. He had reached the half way point. The light was gone. He couldn't see it anymore. He stopped dead in his tracks. His skin began to feel awkward. The drops of his sweat on his cheek had froze. He could see his breath in front of him.
He heard a screeching noise, like nails on a chalk bored, coming from the end of the corridor. It stopped. He stared closely into the darkness. It could be heard again, only closer. He turned and began running back. He put his hand out so he could feel the wall for hallways and doors. He found another hallway and turned into it, still running. It seemed to be getting slightly lighter. He ran into a door. He shoved it open to a very large room. It was full of people. Everyone looked up at the sound of the door being slammed shut. The people were the prisoners. He must have found his way to the cafeteria where he would have gone if he followed the others. He continued running, speeding across the room to another door. The sound was now echoing throughout the room. He ran into the doors struggling to get them open, but they wouldn't. He turned around. A dementor emerged from the darkness screeching and heading straight at him. His heart was pounding. He didn't know what to do. Ideas were racing through his head, but none of them were possible without his wand or being stopped by one of the other dementors he now noticed floating at the top of the room. He knelt down and put his back to the locked door. He gave up.
The dementor grabbed him and brought him out of the room through the locked door Sirius attempted to go through.