A/N - I would like to thank GoldIE and MilyMB For their awesome reviews. This chapter also seems to be the shortest and 1,40-something words. How beastly!
Black Days of Azkaban
Part 3 - Serious Memories
Rain pelted from the dark sky above the old and decrepit building. The castle on the lone island that had been discovered long ago, the home to the Dementor's who were the one and only defense this island had and would always have. Once, a very long time ago, even before Hogwarts, Azkaban had been a wonder to the Wizarding world.
It's builder and Lord was lost to the ages now, No one knew his name and he kept no records, some doubted that the castle had been built by Wizards at all and had actually been built by Muggles. Some thought that the Castle had been Camelot once upon a time till Morgana Le Fay had defeated her half-brother, Arthur, and Merlin and taken it for herself.
Of course, it really didn't matter - it did stave off the horror that began to well up inside him though. When he found everything dark and he couldn't move. He had been surprised during the night and bound into submission as he had been asleep. He still had the borrowed robes on - that was something at least. His back hurt like hell but he dared not dwell on that particular pain. It would fade, his back would heal and then be re-broken with the sharp slices of the Switchblade Whip*.
He was tied down to a table of wood, as far as he could tell. It was scratchy and he was sure that some of the particles would dig their way up if he hadn't been wearing any clothing. He could hear more than he could see, than Merlin.
He could hear the rain from outside, the cold breeze sometimes wafted across any exposed skin. He could hear the grunts of the Aurors too horrible for a job on the outside pass by this room, never stopping to jeer, tease or take their own passions out on him.
They weren't allowed - but, it was mostly over looked.
Time floated and he didn't know if it were day or night, Lunch or Dinner, if it had been years and he just floated.
Thunder boomed and he jumped in his bindings. He had always hated storms, no matter how many he had lived through in his room at Grimwald Place, or in Gryffindor Tower, he had always hated them. He had felt rather an odd peace later, when Remus and James and Peter would gather with him in bed and they would tell stories or plan pranks to try and keep a shaky Sirius calm and un-afraid.
He latched onto that memory, and he went with it. Damned the consequences. He didn't want to be there.
A thirteen year old Sirius Black hated himself; he had jumped under the covers and coward there like a Slytherin would. How the blazes could he call himself a proper Gryffindor if he cowards under his blankets!
"Sirius, let us in, its cold," Remus called. He could feel the covers being moved and he allowed his friends in. They pulled the deep, red curtains to block out the lightning.
"Boy, I never thought you'd be scared of something, Sirius," Peter said.
"Shut up, I don't tease you about peas do I?" Sirius barked back, stuttering slightly as he did. James shook his head.
"It's all right, we're all afraid of something, its all right," he said, soothingly. The three boys knew exactly how to calm a frightened Sirius. The boy replied well to touch and James had brought Sirius into a warm hug as they laid down in the huge bed.
"Remember that time in first year when we transfigured Snape's books into Lemurs?" James asked.
Peter snickered; "He was livid!"
"And no one knew Peter could do it, I think McGonagall gave you thirteen points for it, and a week of detention," Remus put in.
"Yeah, that was funny, or that time we put a singing solution in the pumpkin juice and we had an all out singing quire, including the Professors?" Sirius' teeth were chattering but not from the cold.
"ha! That was ingenious! And all your idea, by the way," James replied.
"That was fourth year work," Remus said.
"You guys helped," Sirius chattered back.
James, Peter and Remus continued with their stories of first and second year - then Remus explained the Goblin Wars of 1567 to them in a way that actually made sense to Peter and put Sirius to sleep.
If he woke, he didn't remember. The voices he heard, were like the storm. Something he should be afraid of. But, he shouldn't be afraid. A storm would pass. Always pass but to come again.
"Well, Mr. Black," and the hood came away.
"Are you ready to tell us what we want to hear?" Umbridge gave him a simpering smile. She wore bright yellow today, a garish colour even for her. It made her look even more fat.
"I didn't do it, it was Peter, it was Peter…" he whispered. He knew, by her frown, that wasn't what she wanted to hear.
"Sirius Leigh Black! Attend!" Walburga Black frowned at her oldest son. Fifteen years old and he still hadn't learned a thing. He was a pureblood and he shouldn't be gallivanting off and not paying attention to his school work. Getting detentions for pranks and….who knows what else.
"Mother," Sirius cocked his head, looking up from The Picture of Dorian Gray - a Muggle book someone had given to him.
"What do you think you are doing, rejecting Hilary like that?" Walburga stood in the doorway to Sirius' room. Her eyes hated the red and the gold, the pictures of the Muggle women half clad and those moving of the Quidditch players and the boy's 'friends'.
"She's boring and not as cool as Valerie," Sirius replied with a shrug.
"Who is Valerie?"
"A Ravenclaw in fifth year," Sirius replied.
"Hilary is purblood and much better than that other girl, Sirius, don't you under stand that we need to keep it that way?" she asked. Hands on hips.
Oh, how she loved that wild streak in her son, the way those fathomless gray eye would light up and dance when he was angry. So like her own. Maybe that was why he hated his family so much, he was like them in every single way and his single trouble was fighting against what he should be.
"What, are you advocating for Moldy-warts now?" he asked, scathingly.
"He is not a concern to us; we are a traditional family, our blood line is the best there is, not even the Malfoy's can hope to become what we have become," Walburga replied.
"Be that as it may, I refuse, and nothing can change my mind," Sirius grunted. Walburga glared.
"I will have you know, Sirius, my son, if you cross me on this, I will make your life miserable," she threatened. Sirius knew it wasn't empty either, she would do her earnest best.
"What are you going to do? Lock me in the cellar like when I was six? When I had a bad dream and all I wanted was to be held, but you wouldn't do it and you punished me for no reason?" Sirius asked. Seething now, she could see it. He had hissed at her, his eyes danced with fire and she was glad.
"I only want what is best for you,"
"You want to control me," Sirius replied. She gazed at him for a long moment, before she closed, and charmed the door locked, behind her.
He felt that familiar feeling in his gut right then and there. The torch light began to grown big before going out almost completely before it looked as if the walls were on fire.
Umbridge looked horrified, she wasn't able to do a thing before guards rushed in and they stunned him. He gave a beastly scream that spoke more of pain, more of rejection, more of simple want before he succumbed to the curse.
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Switchblade Whip - The whip with the thorns on it described in the chapter before.