Chapter Four: Confusion

Chapter Four was authored by our own Padfoot

Now, you might say. "OMG. That was a quick update." But it wasn't, really. This was going to be in with chapter three—but I felt that they should both have their own, small, separate chapters. Because I feel bad for my chapters. Don't ask. - Padfoot

He walked through the hallway full of mirrors, then into the entirely black room. Samara had almost run to the room. Sirius found her sitting on the bed that was nonetheless hers.

"Hello," he said quietly and randomly, walking into the room cautiously.

"Hi," she said, looking blankly at the equally blank wall, still not blinking.

"What went on in there? I mean, why are you guys here?" He was confused. Why was no one telling him what he really needed to know?

Samara looked at him for a second. She just looked at him. She was indeed very young, only a few years older than Harry, Sirius had assumed. Samara locked eyes with him. "Take a seat," she waved her hand in an almost impatient matter at the black chair that he had seen when he first fell into the room.

Sirius did what he was told and sat down in the hard, black chair. It was oddly cold, like metal, although it appeared to be made of a dark wood painted black. He decided to be calm. Yelling and screaming around the place was not going to get him answers. He would have to be calm, wait, and then ask. Yet another part of him was telling him to run all around this—place like a madman. Search and poke and prod until he could find some way out. He had to get out. He had to help them. He had to help Harry….

Harry. The last time that Sirius had seen Harry, he was in the Department of Mysteries. The Order of the Phoenix had just run in the place, saving Harry and his friends from a certain death. But he had left before the fight was over. What if the Order lost? What if Harry died?

No. He mustn't think about that now. Now, what he had to think of was how to get out of this… cell. And it was indeed acting like a prison for Sirius. He was trapped. Trapped and unable to help with whatever was going on in the outside world. He was helpless. He had to get out. And fast.

"You didn't answer me," Sirius pulled his head away from her gaze and stared down at the smooth, cold floor. "I asked you a question. Why are you guys here?"

"You heard Matilda," she said stubbornly. "I'm not to tell you anything else."

"Wha—what?" stammered Sirius, taking his eyes off the ground to look at her in disbelief. "Come on, you can tell me now, tell me here! That Matilda woman isn't here to boss us around."

She stopped looking at him, looking instead at her hands, which were folded neatly on her lap. "I can't," Samara replied simply.

Sirius was getting anxious. "What do you mean, you can't? Matilda isn't here—don't you get it? You can tell me, Samara," moaned Sirius. He just had to get out of here. And he was sure that he was going to do whatever he could to do so. Sirius had to get back to Harry. He just had to.

"You don't understand," she accused softly.

"What's there not to understand?" Sirius asked. "When you tell me, it might help me get out of here. We can just keep it a secret from her."

"No," cried Samara. "We can't." she hesitated for a moment. "You see—Matilda is—my mother," she whimpered and turned away.

Sirius might have thought he was confused before. But he was wrong. He was definitely wrong. So wrong that it might have been right. But it wasn't. He was confused now. "What?" he said, his voice lowering significantly.

"Matilda is my mother," Samara stood up.

That couldn't be possible. The two didn't even have the same last name. "But—you two don't have the same last name—and—you don't look…" Sirius ran his fingers through his hair again. It was a habit. Whenever he was under stress, he would pull his fingers through his glossy hair—which had lost its shine after the Azkaban chapter of his life.

She smiled weakly. "I'm glad I got my looks from my father," she explained. "Get comfortable in that chair, Sirius—because you're about to hear a whole other story." Samara sat back down on her bed, but this time sat so she was facing him. "Matilda is my mother. And when I was only two years old—she killed my father. She just killed him. Don't ask me why—I don't know. I don't even remember him." There was a pause. "Then, when I was ten, she remarried. To a man by the name of Tomas Ramshen. I kept my birth fathers last name. Tomas was mean—he would be constantly angry. I think he was the reason that Matilda is as mean as she is today." She looked down at her hands again. "She wasn't like this always. No… she used to love me." Her voice quivered slightly as she crossed her legs on top of the bed.

"I'm sorry to hear that," announced Sirius—and he did feel that way. He had never known what it was like to be loved. But to be loved and then somehow loose that love had to feel much, much worse than enviously watching your friends be hugged and kissed by their parents. "But I still don't understand. Why can't you tell me?"

"It's more than just the fact that she's my mum," she stated, looking back up at Sirius. "She controls me. She controls my life. It's like she reads my mind. She knows all I know. She knows all I feel. She owns me, Sirius."

Sirius's eyes widened. "Can you at least try and help me?" he inquired. "You don't have to tell me anymore. Just help me try and get out."

She nodded and smiled. "Sure, I'll help you. Just try not to let anyone else figure out what we're doing."

"Thank you," Sirius made to stand up. He still had one question that he just had to ask—he was sure that her mother wouldn't reject to him knowing the answer to this. "And… might I ask… how old are you?"

Samara also stood up. "I'm seventeen, for your information."

Sirius was surprised. Samara acted much more mature then he remembered seventeen year olds to be acting. Then again, you weren't thematurest seventeen year old in the bunch. He reminded himself. And then Sirius shut his eyes just to take in the moment of being partly happy in this place. He had help. And with that—he was one step closer to his home.

Sirius-Black-SFan- You know, that's just a little tagline that I put at the end of all of my chapters—but I do love to see that some readers enjoy it! Thank you! I hope you liked this one.

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