Chapter Three: Trapped

Continued By Padfoot (yes, she is continuing this)

All did not go well. Xx Okay. I have no excuse to why I laid off the project of writing the next chapter to this. So you are free to throw orange slushies at me. Show no mercy. Now if you will excuse me, I must find a bag to hide my face in shame. – Padfoot

"Not gone—just beyond the veil." – Luna Lovegood

Never before in Sirius's life did he want to run more than now. He wanted to run. Run away from this place that he was in. Run for miles and miles and miles. Run into he broke the seams of this twisted dream.

"Where am I?" Sirius's voice seemed smaller than Matilda's demanding boom.

"You, Mr. Black, are in cell number twenty-seven," she replied curtly; watching him slyly with her pale, foreboding eyes.

"And you think I'm going to buy this rubbish?" Sirius was getting annoyed now—who would play a trick on him like this? "Where am I and how can I get back home?"

A person to the left of Sirius shuffled in their seat beside him. "But I just told you where you are," her eyes widened threateningly. "And there is no way out. Well, no way out that I, that is to say, the Death Eaters and I, have not been able to find in one hundred and ninety-six years of being captive here."

Sirius's palms gripped the armrests of the chair alarmingly hard. Why was this woman playing games with him? Before, he was confused. It was alright to be led through odd rooms by a kind woman and end up in dead ends like a dream—but this was probably one of the most complex dreams that he had ever had.

"What do you have to say to that?" She looked at him with a menacing stare. Sirius was quiet, and he looked over at Samara, but she would not look at him. "Nothing, I am sure."

"Yeah," Sirius swallowed. "I have a question for you."

"Yes?" Matilda said somewhat quieter, pulling a lock of her gray-flecked brown hair behind her ear.

Sirius never took his eyes off of the woman he was speaking too across the room. "Why are you called the Death Eaters—if the group called the Death Eaters didn't come to exist until many years after you were—sentenced here?"

"What are you talking about?" her eyes bulged threatengly.

"The Death Eaters," he said slowly and loudly, still keeping his eyes locked on her. "That is what you call yourselves, no?" Sirius did not wait for her reply. He didn't care. He wanted to get this over with and get the hell out of here. "There was no such thing as a group of people called the Death Eaters until Lord Voldemort rose to power." The group's reaction was not what he had expected. In today's wizarding world, most witches and wizards feared Voldemort's name among all others. But when he had said the name 'Lord Voldemort,' the thirteen people acted as if nothing had happened.

"Excuse me? Lord Voldemort?" Matilda tapped her bare foot against the tiled floor once rather impatentialy.

Sirius was—confused. There was no way to put it. "…You don't know who Lord Voldemort is?"

"If I did know who this… 'Lord' is, why would I be asking you?" she said coolly, crossing her arms in front of her chest defiantly.

She was right, Sirius told himself. But you know, she could always be lying. His mind was at war with itself as his thoughts aimlessly flew about the boundaries of his skull. "True," he muttered quietly so he couldn't be heard. Sirius crossed his arms in front of his chest defiantly.

"What year is it?" she inquired randomly, the same question Samara had asked him when he had first landed here.

"Nineteen-ninety-six," justified Sirius simply, his arms not moving.

"Ah, yes. Then I was right," she noted, and then continued, "One hundred and ninety-six years ago, Mr. Black, there was a group of thirteen people known as the Death Eaters. Yes we were, and still are, a small group," Matilda gestured carelessly at the people around him, "We somehow upset most people that were highly ranked in the Ministry of Magic somehow. They put me and these other people under probation, and if we did any of those… wrongful acts again, we would be punished." She took a deep breath and closed her pale eyes, then opened them again. "And, here we are. Imprisoned in cell number twenty-seven for eternity. There is no way out."

Sirius was confused. Why had he never heard of these people? "Are there other people in other cells…? What did you do…?" His questions trailed off and were left unanswered.

"That room that you described, with the veil and the dais," she began, "that was the trial room."

He never described the room to her.

"Samara!" Matilda yelled, fixing her gaze to the girl sitting in the chair next to Sirius. Samara shook slightly and Sirius could see a flicker of fear in her eyes.

"Yes?" Samara sputtered quickly, looking strait into Matilda's eyes, unblinking.

"Take this man to your room. He will stay there. Do not tell him anything else about this place." Her voice had—changed somehow when she said this. It was colder. More hallow. Almost overly demanding.

"Yes," Samara replied quietly. Her voice was also the same, hallow and cold.

"Everyone is dismissed," Matilda said finally, walking around back into her doorway. The other people did the same. Even Samara, who oddly acted like she didn't see Sirius at all.

Sirius followed her anyways. The chairs they had once been sitting in had evaporated in thin air. He ran his fingers through his hair. This place was definitely confusing.

Arg. You guys hate me. I know. Please ignore any spelling errors. I cannot spell for my life, but I am getting better. The spell check was on the spaz today. It wouldn't work. Yeah.Now, I wake up at 5am not to finish my homework or study for that test, but to write Fanfiction. So I will hopefully update within this week. As I have nothing else to do anyways. – Padfoot

Now, I will be doing a first. SHOUT-OUTS TO REVIEWERS.

Dragon- Yeah. Thanks. Cliffhangers are fun. And yet evil.

IamSiriusgrl- Thank you. :)

You read it—You loved it—Now review it!