Chapter 11

"We are here to see Sirius Black."

Harry didn't pay attention to Remus' conversation with the guard. He was busy staring down the corridors, looking for any hint of life. He couldn't find any.

The entire prison reeked death.

"Come this way." Remus gripped Harry's arm and steered him down the passageway. As the chill from the nearby Dementors permeated his very bones, he was glad for the small, comforting warmth of Remus' hand. It was the only thing keeping him from turning and running back out to the boat.

"Cell 493," the guard intoned and moved to rest against the wall at the end of the hall. "You have ten minutes."

The cell door looked upside down; the window Harry would have expected to be cut out of the top of the door was located at the bottom. The metal bars segregating it were spaced just far enough for a small dish of food. Or an incredibly starved dog. He swallowed the bile rising in his throat as he realized how starved Sirius would have had to be to escape through that opening.

Harry looked up pleadingly and Remus seemed to read his thoughts. "I'll wait right here for you," he reassured and releasing Harry's arm. Harry's teeth chattered.

"The doors can only be opened from the outside," the guard said and Harry jumped. He forgot the man was there. "Just knock when you want to come out."

Harry nodded and gripped the small handle on the door. He slowly pulled it open and entered the room.

The slab of cement slammed shut behind him; the smack of it hitting its hinges reverberated throughout his entire body. Cautiously, he took another step in and gazed around.

The chamber was made of stone and the walls seemed to give of a frost of its own. The only light came from a small window on the opposite wall, overlooking the vast gray sea. A small cot stood against one side and a ragged pile of blankets rested on its foot. The pile quivered.

Harry sucked in a deep breath. "Sirius?" he whispered.

The blanket fell back as a dirty man looked up. Tears filled Harry's eyes as he saw his godfather.

Sirius was gaunt and hollow. Long strands of straggly hair fell down around his feet and a mangy beard grew from his face. But the worse ... the worst were his eyes.

There was no life there. Two deep pools of murk stared back at him, unseeing, until a spark of recognition appeared there.

His parched lips opened slightly in surprise. "James?" he croaked. His voice sounded like it hadn't been used in a long time.

"No, Sirius." Harry took a step closer into the dim light. He let go of his disguise.

Sirius starred into the green eyes. "Ha – Harry?"

"Yes, it's me. Harry."

"Oh, god, Harry. You're ... so grown up. Has it been that long? You look so much like James," Sirius babbled on until Harry knelt down next to him. Then he seemed to realize. "Harry! I didn't do it! It was Peter! You have to believe me! I would never – "

"I know, Sirius," Harry interrupted. "I know. I believe you."

"You – you do?"

"Yes. And so does Remus."

"Remus?"

"Yes, Remus." He looked confused. "You do remember Remus don't you?" Sirius seemed dazed.

"Moony."

Harry nodded. "He's brought me to see you. He is just outside."

"But he said he never wanted to even think about me again."

Harry winced. "He ... he didn't know any better then. Now, he knows what really happened ..."

"How?"

"I ... "Harry bit his lip. "I can't tell you that, Sirius."

Sirius sat up a little bit straighter. "It's warmer here today."

Harry was slightly startled by the sudden change in topic. "The Dementors backed off today, so I could talk to you."

"It's nice."

The pair sat in silence for a few seconds, studying each other.

"Pronglet," Sirius finally said.

"What did you call me?"

"Pronglet. I always called you that when you were little."

"I don't remember."

Sirius leaned against his bed, reminiscing. "I used to baby-sit for you whenever your parents were at work. Did you know that your first word was Paddy?"

"No, no I didn't."

"You used to love when I would come over. We'd spend hours together. You were my little Pronglet. Do you play Quidditch?"

Harry was quickly becoming used to Sirius' choppy way of speaking. "I do. Seeker."

"And are you a Gryffindor?"

"Er ... sort of."

"Do you live with Remus?"

Harry's thoughts flashed to the past couple of weeks at Grimmauld place. "I do now."

"That's good. I had hoped that was where you ended up. Dumbledore wouldn't tell me where he sent you." Harry clenched his teeth. "I am sorry, Pronglet."

"What for?"

"For not being there for you while you were growing up. I just wish that things could have been different."

Water welled up in Harry's eyes and he reached forward to pull his godfather in a hug. Sirius seemed stiff at first, but slowly relaxed into it. "No, I'm sorry, Sirius. It's all my fault. If I hadn't gone there, if I had just listened to Hermione, everything would have been fine, but ... "

"Harry, what on Earth are you talking about?" Sirius asked, patting and rubbing Harry's back, but Harry just kept on sobbing. When the tears subsided, Sirius held Harry put at arms' length. "Hey, kiddo, whatever it is you feel guilty about, it is not your fault. Alright?" He raised a shaking hand to wipe a tear away from Harry's face. "I love you, Pronglet."

"I ... I love you, too, Sirius." Although he had never said these words before they felt right on his tongue. They embraced again.

"Time is up!" The knock on the door sent the two apart. Harry reluctantly stood.

"Don't look so down," Sirius said. "I promise, we will see each other again."

"We will."

"Good-bye, Pronglet."

"Good-bye."