School: Hogwarts
Theme: Tom Riddle framed his uncle for the murder of his father. Write about the lengths someone goes to in order to preserve their reputation.
Mandatory Prompt: [Quote] "I miss you more than I remember you." - Ocean Vuong
Additional Prompt: [Word] Royalty
Year: 3rd year
Word count: 1557
I can see the moon again, Remus. It sits in all its majesty between the thatched bars of my only window. The silver beams of light penetrate the stench and seclusion of my cell. If the other inmates can see it too, their incoherent ravings do not suggest it so. Somehow, I know it is here for me, and me alone. On nights like this, when I stand directly in the jagged squares of light on the floor of my cell, I shiver. Most of my time here, I cower in my other form in the corner. It keeps me sane—I think—but it also leaves me numb. The Dementors, no doubt, are having their fill of my pain tonight.
In a place that defies the passage of time—the same spectral wardens, the same wails of agony, the same stale smells of mold and decay, the same ocean waves crashing on the same cliffs—the moon finds me in its various phases.
Just like you.
You have always been able to find me at my worst, and you save me from myself. There was that day at the shelter when you came to pick me up? I was chasing birds even though you told me not to, and that animal control unit had the audacity to cart me off. You came. You found me in that cramped cage and I wagged my tail so hard, I sprained my arse.
That day comes to my mind so often. I wonder if lightning might strike twice and you will arrive at Azkaban to rescue this old dog. Ever the unlikely knight in shining armor, you would explain to the Dementors that it's all been a terrible misunderstanding with that clumsy smile of yours. You'd take me home.
Not that I count on being rescued or even wish for it truly. I miss you, yes. I miss the life we had, and the brief glimmer of bliss we shared. I miss what we could have had—the future that was stolen from us. There is a fissure that cuts the plain of my heart and grows deeper every time I think of you.
However, I ardently hope that you do not think of me the way that I do you. My only wish for you is that you will let my memory fade into stubborn confusion. For how could you have ever loved the madman, Sirius Black?
Would that I could, over time, accomplish the same task. Let the vivid colors of your love wash away from my mind. Alas, then I would miss you more than I remember you. Instead of memories of you—your face, your smile, your quiet disapproval, and your boisterous laughter—I would be haunted by an ache. A longing that whispers your name in my dreams and keeps me up on nights when the moon is out.
If I must miss you, then I am determined to remember you—every wrinkle and scar, every joke and frown.
I am well-practiced in the art of missing you. Whether it was whiling away the hours in detention or holed up in my room on summer holiday. Is it any wonder I am a model prisoner? I must learn to remember you. It is harder than you'd think. Was that day at the shelter the summer of '77 or the fall of '79? Did I know you loved me then? I adored you long before I even realized it myself. It is hard to keep the facts straight. But I am trying, Moony, really I am. I have to, otherwise, I fear I may do something crass and break out of Azkaban just to get a good look at you again.
That's right—I confess—I can escape, Remus. I figured out how many moons ago. It is a swift trot around the complex to the east bank and then I'm at the mercy of the tides. The fates, I'm sure, have too good a sense of humor to just let me drown in the obscurity of the Posiden's realm, so I could be home for supper in a fortnight…but I know there is no facing you.
It's a dreadful paradox, and you know how I hate those, Moony. The Mobius strip you made for that arithmancy project upset me so much I had to shred it to pieces–
Where was I?
Oh yes, you. You are the paradox, but now I am the one being torn apart.
You are the only thing left for me. The world is convinced I am a dangerous man to Muggles and wizards alike. I'm the lunatic the papers still write about. The dates are smudged, but I read the discarded copies of the Prophet when they appear on the floor of my cell as makeshift insulation. Luckily, with my fur, I don't need their slander to keep me warm.
I'm used to being cast out and untrusted. A Gryffindor amongst Slytherins in my childhood home, and a member of Slytherin royalty in my common room. My family wanted a pure-blood prince and they got a jester. Clearly, I never won over most of our Hogwarts peers with my jokester charm.
The world can go to hell. I know who I am and I can wear my tarnished reputation like a badge of honor. Only, I never imagined that, when the world finally turned its back on me once and for all, it would take you with it.
I know full well that I am the monster that murdered our family. Peter betrayed us, but not before I let my guard down, and because of that, Lily and James fell to You-Know-Who.
To think the day it had happened I had been so pleased with myself. You'd have been proud too. I had thought I had finally put that "royal" Slytherin heritage to good use and had begun to crack into the lower ranks of his followers. I thought I would finally find Regulus. I had some damned optimistic plan that as late as I was to start acting like an older brother ought to, he would be ready for me to rescue him. I had such a high image of myself then—a pompous prince on a fat pony that would make Sir Cadogan green with envy.
Idiot.
In hindsight, I'm sure news of my fledgling affiliations with Death Eaters did nothing to flatter my reputation. Now, I am surrounded by my court; Azkaban is the kingdom I was always heir to, the throne I worked so tirelessly to abdicate. It's only now that I stand here, rotting away in what should have been Peter's cell that I find out that it was all for naught.
Regulus is long dead. Consumed and destroyed by the movement that he devoted his short life to. I sorely wish he hadn't died; he might have made good company here. I would have shared my throne with him. Two brother kings, like the founding of Rome…then again, you told me that didn't end well.
Right about now, you are probably thinking: 'Sirius, you melodramatic twat, there are plenty of corners of the world far more attractive than this one to hide from me.' Yes, I could escape and exile myself to some distant coastline, but that's more than I deserve.
I can't prove what Peter's done in my name to the world, and I can't take back that I failed you and James. And Lily. And Harry.
He's with the Muggles, do you know? I hope you know. I didn't think to tell you at the time. I could only see red as I realized what Peter had done; when Hagrid insisted on taking the boy on Dumbledore's orders, I lacked the grace to convince him that Harry's home was with you and me.
It's better this way, right? He won't grow up under the shadow of your grief or my infamy. But you will see him, won't you? Someone's got to teach him how to be a good man. Even without landing in Azkaban, I doubt I'd have been any good at it.
It is inevitable that he will hear of me. The wizarding community is insatiable when it comes to gossip. Better it should come from you than some gawking stranger. Promise me that you will be the one to do it. Hide me away until he's ready to know the truth, though. I suppose you could edit some photos—banish me from the record—so that you will have something to tell him about James without the thought of me looming over it.
Merlin, I barely knew him and I miss him, too. He was going to be so loved.
Perhaps, I could sneak away after all. Watch Harry—from afar, of course. Stay a dog and stay out of sight?
No…that wouldn't do at all.
If I left this unearned prison, what would you think of me then? You were always the one so concerned you would hurt someone on nights like this, and all I can think of now is what would hurt you. To leave you thinking I have callously destroyed everything you ever loved and then left, never to be heard from again. No. I won't abandon you. Not again.
At least, if I stay in prison, I am where you can always find me. You, and the moon.