dedicated to Padfoot. You know who you are, hun. Get well soon!!!
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The first thing Sirius Black noticed about his cell in Azkaban when he regained consciousness was the cold.
The second thing he noticed was the utter emptiness he felt within him.
James was gone. His best friend, his brother, he was gone.
Sirius didn't know how long he had sat in the cold, empty cell before voices sounded and the Minister for Magic appeared along with a few other cronies, looking through the small, barred window at Sirius as if he were a dog.
"Mr Black," said the Minister, curtly.
"Bastard," addressed Sirius with the same polite courtesy as the Minister.
He swallowed, but showed no other signs of having heard what Sirius called him. "We have discussed your case and we have come to—"
"You've discussed my case?" said Sirius, getting up weakly. He made his slow, unsteady way to the door to look straight into the eyes of the Minister for Magic who was condemning him to this place. "Without me? The defendant?"
"The evidence has been presented to us by Mr Crouch and we have come to the conclusion that you are guilty and a proper trial will not need to be held."
"WHAT?" Sirius threw himself at the doors, gripping the iron bars of his cage and spitting at the man as he spoke. "YOU CAN'T DO THAT!"
"Oh, you'll find that we can, Mr Black. I assure you," he said, leaning in close to Sirius, his breath rising in steam and spreading across Sirius's face as he spoke. "Your master is dead. Your bloody Dark Lord was vanquished."
"What?" said Sirius, breathlessly. "He's gone?"
The Minister obviously took Sirius's speechlessness wrongly and began to laugh. "He is gone, thanks to little Harry Potter, and no matter what you try to do, he will always be gone, and you will always be rotting in the pits of hell."
"I'll save you a seat when I get there, then," said Sirius.
The Minister sneered and made to leave, but Sirius threw his arm out of the cell through the window and grabbed a hold of his arm. At the same time, a Dementor grasped his, its cold touch, freezing Sirius's blood, willing him to let go, but Sirius kept his grip on the Minister – not even daring to wince – and said, through gritted teeth, "What are you going to do?" The Minister raised an eyebrow in curiosity. What could this madman have to say? "What? Are you gonna make mugs and shirts that say in big black letters. 'I was at Godric's Hollow the day he murdered the Potters'? Look, this may be a joke to you, the day that we won, a bloody victory. But it's not that wonderful from everyone else's point of view, OK? People died here."
The Minister ripped his arm from Sirius's hand and said, spitting venom with each word, "Only those who deserve to die have met with Death himself."
Sirius smirked, reviving the bit of James that lived on in him. "That can't be true. You're still here, aren't you?"
The Minister's jowls quivered dangerously as he held himself back from making any rude comments. He simply said, "You were his friend. You were his bloody best man."
Sirius frowned. "What?"
But the Minister had already spun on his heel and stormed away from Sirius, his goons following him like stupid runts.
Sirius's arm still hung limp from the window, the tips of his fingers starting to feel heavy with blood and the cold. He cursed and pulled himself back into his cell.
"They think I killed him—" he mumbled. "Merlin help me, they think I killed my own brother…"
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It was the first time Sirius heard any movement but the shrieks of madness from other cells nearby and the ruffles of the cloaks of the Dementors since the Minister had imprisoned him there long ago. He peered out of his cell and saw struggling figures being led to their own hell-holes by them, the Dementors, heartless.
Looking more carefully, Sirius noticed that only two of the figures being dragged to their dooms were trying to break free. The third walked with an eerie compliance. Following the Dementors like an obedient house elf. They were coming closer and closer to Sirius's cell, and as he focused on the black-hooded creatures coming towards him, he noticed a strange familiarity in the stubbornness of one of their jaws. Their chin lifted ever so slightly, giving Sirius the impression that they could see right into his eyes, though their own were still shrouded by their hood.
Their firm mouth twisted into a smile.
"Sirius Black," said the motionless figure in a woman's voice.
"Bellatrix?"
"We always thought you'd be too Gryffindor to join us, but I always had faith in you, no matter what Regulus said."
"How dare you speak to me?"
"How dare I speak to you?" she said in mock disbelief as the Dementors continued dragging her away along with her two accomplices. "You are the blood traitor, if I am not mistaken."
"And never have I ever been so proud to be."
Bellatrix laughed a cold, pitiless laugh. She was going farther away from him, but she continued to shout over her shoulder in his direction, though he tried to faze out his cousin's voice. "You remember Frank!" She continued laughing madly. "Frank Longbottom! I put him and his wife in St Mungo's!" Her shrill shrieks of laughter pounded in Sirius's brain. He closed his eyes and willed it all to be a dream, but he still felt the pain of the world. "THEY'RE INSANE! THEY'RE MAD BECAUSE OF ME!"
Her laughs would haunt his dreams for the next three years.
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Sirius had no idea how many years had passed, how many months, days, hours. He had tried keeping count in the beginning to try to keep his mind busy, but he was soon so confused by the never-ending darkness surrounding Azkaban that he no longer knew whether he had counted the day on the wall in the white chalk, or not.
He had given up long ago.
His life had become a dream. Endless memories of smiling faces, laughing for trivial matters which he no longer remembered, nor did he care.
One thing had always been drilling into his mind since he was condemned to this prison.
James Potter was dead.
"I didn't kill him," he croaked, his voice dry and unused. "I didn't kill him."
Sirius continued muttering to himself, rubbing his eyes and rolling his head, his body twitching, and didn't notice when the Minister for Magic came to visit him once again.
This time, Cornelius Fudge did not have a large posse accompanying him. Only a few men for safety reassurance. He peered into Sirius Black's cell, remembering the day he had had him thrown in here twelve years ago.
"It's been a while, Black."
Sirius did not look up. This man did not deserve the right to look into his eyes. He only turned his head slightly to look at Fudge's plump body, his hands nervously trembling, clutching the Daily Prophet.
"Nice weather we've been having," said Sirius, his voice lost of all youth and innocence.
"Um, yes it is, isn't it."
"Wish I could feel it. It's always cold here."
Sirius could tell he was confusing the Minister. Never had he been encountered with such "madness" before. As if reading his mind, Sirius said, "Madness is a sign of brilliance, Minister."
That was when Sirius Black looked up into Fudge's eyes. His hollow, empty, black eyes drilling into this stupid man before him.
"Have you finished with the paper?" asked Sirius, never looking away from Fudge.
"What? Oh! This- uh, yes."
"Can I have it?"
The Minister hesitated.
"I miss doing the crossword."
"Um, yes, I suppose." Fudge cautiously slipped the paper through the bars into Sirius's cell and he slowly reached out a rotting hand to grasp the parchment. On the front page was a smiling family of red-heads. He was painfully reminded of Lily when his attention turned abruptly to a rat sitting on a boy's shoulder.
Looking more closely still at the rodent, Sirius noticed a missing finger.
Afinger that had been found twelve years prior on a Muggle street the day Sirius had been arrested.
"He's at Hogwarts…"
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FIN
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Well, I hope you guys liked it. I personally,didn't. But that's just me. In general, 'artists' don't usually like their own work, but I really think i could have done better on this. a shame im not less lazy, really, but you can always help boost my self esteem by reviewing. yay!