Your name is Sirius Black, and you've spent the last two months of your life in this place, the hell. This is Azkaban prisoner, the world's most unhappy place, and you're set to spend the remainder of your life caged like a wild beast in these walls.
Before you read anymore, let me tell you this; you don't know if you're innocent or guilty, and no one will even tell you what happened. All you know is that you killed someone, and that's why you're here.
Writing in the mud begins to hurt my fingers, so until I get other means to write, I'll leave you with these words; you remember very little, you have no friends save but one, and you don't think that he'll be coming to see you again. You are utterly alone, save for the Dementors who ravage your thoughts endlessly.
Until I get something better to write on, live with this short message.
The message was dated eight days previous, and Remus sat back, letting the words he'd read sink in. "He's gone crazy, writing messages to himself." He looked around, disgusted that he'd fallen victim to his pitiful emotional side again.
He sighed, shivering on the cold floor. Since he was so close to the cell, he decided that he'd take a look around Sirius's world. It was even less then he'd pictured it, there wasn't even a bed, and there was only one small window that allowed light to cascade down into the meager cell. Remus frowned, his head furrowed in thought again, feeling confused about how he felt towards Sirius.
He would have left right then, because he was starting to feel the effects of the Dementor who was standing at the door to the cellblock, if he hadn't noticed something scratched into the call wall.
He leaned against the bars again, squinting in the dark, trying to make out the jagged writing that appeared to be the continuation of Sirius' note to himself.
So, Sirius, you've found what more I have to say, on what space I have to say it on. I find that I'm afraid that if don't tell you everything that I remember, I'll forget it all and you'll never know.
But I don't know where to start, or how to describe everything in the fullest detail so that you'll benefit from it the best. I don't know how to make you realize that importance of the matter, or make you realize how very alone you really are.
And believe me, Sirius; I understand all of these things about you because I am you. I am Sirius Black, a prisoner of Azkaban.
That was all that was written – scratched – into the wall, and Remus could see why. He saw the smears of blood that were littered around the message, and he saw the jagged, broken pieces of rock that were cascaded along the muddy ground beneath the words. Finally, he glanced to Sirius' hands, which were poorly bandaged, with pieces of his prison garb to stop the blood that seeped from the cuts that were a result of his labors on the wall.
Remus suddenly gasped with the realization that Sirius was desperate to remember, that he felt he wouldn't be able to live in peace until he ensured himself that he was going to remember at least some of what he had once known. Remus grasped that Sirius was trying to write down everything that he remembered now, in case he lost it all again.
Suddenly, Remus was driven to know what it was that Sirius did remember. Forgetting all about the presence of the Dementor, he began to look frantically around the meager cell, hoping to find more messages, or anything from Sirius that would shine some light on to what he wanted to know.
Suddenly, he saw it. A small, leather-bound book was placed carefully, wedged between two rocks in the wall. Remus couldn't reach it with his arms, so he slipped his wand from his robe and muttered "Accio book," so as not to attract the attention of the Dementor.
The book magically pulled away from the wall and flew swiftly into Remus' outstretched hands. Remus tucked the wand back into his robe, and then tucked his knees underneath of him, and pulled the notebook open.
A pen fell out, but Remus disregarded it, being much more interested in what Sirius had written. Remus let his eyes fall over the first words on the page, smiling when he recognized Sirius' misshapen "b."
I don't know where this notebook came from. I went to sleep last night, wishing that I had an easier place to write down everything that I remember, and when I woke up, this notebook was here, with the pen. There was a note, someone had been here to see me, and they read my messages and decided that even though I'm a criminal, I deserved to tell my story.
They left the notebook, apparently another will appear when this one is all full, and the pen will never run out of ink. Whoever was here, they truly wanted to make sure my story got told…
Or, maybe they care enough about me that they wanted to be assured that I eventually did remember everything, but I honestly don't know. Even if I saw who delivered these things to me, I don't know if I'd remember them at all from my past since there are very few whom I do actually remember.
These are the people who I do remember, and in turn I'll write everything that I feel about them. I remember Dumbledore, James, Lily, Remus, Peter, Snape, Carly, Hagrid and Ali. There are also three people I first met when I woke up in this godforsaken cell: Pondex, Jimmy and Wallace.
Those three men, along with the Dementors were the only ones who were there to keep me company, until they all died and left me to suffer the Dementors on my own, except for the madness which fills my mind during my waking hours.
Of course, there is one other who did keep my company on a couple of occasions, the Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Albus Dumbledore. He seems to be a good man, but what do I know about goodness? I am, after all, just a common criminal.
All the same, whatever Dumbledore may have seen in me, I don't think it exists anymore. We had a falling out of sorts a few weeks back. Before that, however, he visited me a couple of times and always seemed to want to help, but would never tell me why I was here. He kept on saying that everyone said he was out of place by coming to see me, but he did it and intended to do so until I remembered everything.
Remus kept reading, soaking in page after endless page of Sirius' memory and feeling, letting himself get caught in the emotion for hours, until he stumbled across a page about James.
James is my best friend, and we attended Hogwarts together, along with Peter and Remus. I don't remember a lot about James, but inside I feel like he was more like a brother to me than a friend. He hasn't come to visit me, and I don't expect that he will; as Dumbledore said that only he had the nerve to face the man I've become.
All the same, I wish James would come. I know he'd tell me all about the things I used to do. Hell, he might even cheer me up, but who really knows. Mostly, I want him to come so that I can tell him how sorry I am for hurting everyone, especially him. But I don't suppose I'll ever get that chance.
And then there is Remus, the one person in the world who I know that my thoughts about in my life before Azkaban were wrong. I know I was wrong because Dumbledore has assured me that Remus would never do what I suggested.
I feel badly because Remus, in life, was one of my closest friends and I regret that if, even for a second, I doubted him. Remus is a werewolf, but even werewolves can have a heart of gold, I see that now, and wish with all my heart that I had never treated him badly, or done anything to him that hurt him.
Why, if only I could tell him these things, I would feel so much better. Not better because I brought myself to apologize, but better just by knowing that he knew the truth, which is something that I don't think he knows right off.
Maybe I only want to be able to tell him because that would mean that he was here, and that he probably came on his own. Which would mean that he forgives me, or trusts me enough that he could face me. It would mean that I might not be alone for the rest of my life in this place.
Outside of Azkaban, before all of this, I believed that Remus had gone against everyone and had joined Voldemort. I don't know why I thought it, or even if I had any proof to lead me to believe such a thing.
However, having Remus know that I thought such I thing… I don't know. I just wish that I could tell him that I should never have doubted him, and will never doubt him again. If only Remus could know… If only any of them could know…
That was where the entry ended. Remus flipped through the book, but couldn't find anything else written. He sighed and wiped away the tears that he never would have expected to fall. The he looked up from the notebook and found himself staring into the eyes of Sirius Black.
"Hello, Remus."