A Glimpse – Sirius Black: August 4, 1993, nearing Surrey
The quiet echoes of the nighttime streets resonated through the foggy air. Without so much as a whisper, the breeze cut through the darkness, marked only by the calls of hushed motors and distant barks. Scents of the damp air were only of the stale earth and the fungi that strewn the streets. Even the streetlamps blinked only dismally as they cut in and out of the white clouds that lay low over the city.
He had no real name for the city, he had not read it, he had not seen one, and he had not heard it. The fog before his deep, blackened eyes was only a mirror to his mind that spun wildly with emotions of vengeance, sorrow, confusion, and wonder.
Vengeance had never left him, not for 12 years. His imprisonment had worn into his mind the fact of his innocence and the lack of evidence for or against it. No, Sirius Black was an innocent man, but he was condemned to serve the crime of his betrayer. Vengeance was the right word for what he wished for.
Sorrow was ever-present in his mind. He was without so many thing after so long. Never again would he clasp arms with James, his most dear friend from childhood. He would never spend the afternoon lazying about his house with Lily nagging at him to cut his hair and get a real job. Never again would he sit with them and laugh over old photos and wine while Lily attended to their newborn son… Sorrow would forever mark October 31, 1981.
Confusion seemed to be the clearest of all his feelings at the moment. Since his escape from Azkaban, the whole world seemed new. Many things seemed strange after being away from the world for 12 years. He was yet to learn where he was, so thus, he simply wandered, seeking familiarity. Confusion was a nuisance, but a welcome feeling as he re-entered the world.
Wonder filled him nearly every moment of his freedom. The sky, during the day, seemed so bright it was blinding, and at night, the stars were so true he nearly cried as he first beheld them. The taste of sweetness in the air when passing shops and the feeling of grass beneath his paws was so overwhelming. Wonder came so abruptly that he could hardly grasp the word when it came and left.
As the fog in his mind spun, he also envisioned what he knew to be true. After all, his grasp on reality was a bit tainted after so long. The things he knew were solid: his name was Sirius Black, he was born at 12 Grimmaund Place, London, England. He had attended Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry with James Potter, Remus Lupin, Peter Pettigrew, and Lily Evans. They graduated, fought in the war with the Order of the Phoenix, and then, were betrayed. Betrayed by Peter. Bitterness entered his mind.
There were whispers every so often about the infamous Sirius Black who killed 12 muggles and his own best friends. He was a madman who foamed at the mouth and tried to kill anyone who so much as looked at him. No, these were not true. By now, he was just a broken shadow of a man.
He remembered so few truly happy moments any longer. It was now 1993, he had learned. Twelve years in captivity under the watch of the dementors. The thought of those ghastly shadows and horrible memories caused him to shutter, flinging some loose water from his matted fur. They had stolen so many of his memories, bringing forward only the darkness and the sadness that inhabited him so completely.
But there was light. In the silence of thought, he could see his friends, just as he remembered them, laughing and jumping about, eating sweets, and making jokes. There was still happiness, it was just buried beneath so many years of despair.