Written for QLFC Season 11 Round 1, Beater 1/Captain
Main Prompt: Write about someone catching a lucky break
Optional Prompts: 7.[dialogue] "How could you have possibly forgotten?", 9.[setting] starry night, 11.[word] notorious
Word Count:1010
Warnings: Azkaban, Death, Torture with the Cruciatus Curse (brief), Dementors
~wWw~
For once, things seemed to be looking up in Sirius Black's life. Aside from the increasing attacks from Voldemort, he was happy. He had moved out of the Potters and into his own place. James had finally married Lily, something he had been striving for since his first year. He now had a godson. Everything was going well.
Until it wasn't.
Halloween night, the night when everything went wrong. James dead. Lily dead. Peter a traitor. And Sirius, he was in a Ministry holding cell, accused of killing Peter and twelve muggles.
It wasn't long before Barty Crouch Sr opened the door, his wand fully trained on Sirius.
"Barty," Sirius started, he knew the man well. Barty was one of his trainers when he joined the Aurors.
"Don't say anything, Sirius. You are going to Azkaban," Barty said, his wand never leaving Sirius's form.
"Barty, what's going on?" Sirius asked, his voice beginning to take on a desperate tone, "you know me. You trained me!"
~wWw~
Azkaban was awful. Sirius had heard stories from some of his father's more… unsavoury friends, but their descriptions came nowhere near how awful it actually was. He was perpetually cold; the cool, damp air seemed to settle within his bones. The cold was the least of his worries, though.
He had always heard that Dementors were the worst part of Azkaban. They were notorious for their ability to suck the happiness from humans, but for Sirius, the worst part was Bellatrix. He was placed in the cell directly beside her, and it was like he was living back at 12 Grimmauld Place with his mom again, but worse.
"Sirius, is that you?" she asked when he first arrived, her hands gripping the bars of her cell so tightly that her knuckles were white as bone. She was thin, and the shirt she wore dwarfed her figure. Sirius didn't get a chance to respond before she continued, "Is the war still going on?"
Her voice was strained and raspy. She sounded weak, defeated even—nothing like the confident, powerful, albeit crazy witch he knew as his cousin.
"Shut it," the guard growled, casting a stinging hex at her. Bellatrix yelped slightly before backing away from the bars. Sirius stood, shackled behind the guard, watching as the guard opened the door before shoving him in.
"Hands through," the guard barked, Sirius quickly obeying. The heavy manacles were removed from his wrists before the guard turned to return down the hallway. For a moment, everything fell silent. Sirius could hear the blood rushing through his ears with every beat of his heart—thump, thump, thump.
His cell was damp, and the walls were built from large stones. Each one was slightly different in shape like they were hand-cut. Massive scratches ran through a few of the stones. For a moment, he wondered how they got there. They almost looked like someone had repeatedly clawed at the walls. He shook his head, his shaggy hair brushing past his ears. Pain shot through his chest at the thought of his hair. Lily was supposed to cut it the next time he saw her, but now he'd never see her again.
"Sirius, is the war still going on? Has the Dark Lord won?" Bellatrix asked. He could hear her moving about, shuffling closer to the wall they shared.
"I don't know, I forgot," Sirius snarked, his notoriously sarcastic attitude making an appearance. He had forgotten how obnoxious Bellatrix's obsession with Voldemort had been.
"How could you have possibly forgotten?" Bellatrix asked. Sirius could hear the confusion in her voice. He tilted his head slightly. She sounded genuinely confused. Perhaps the dementors had really messed her head up.
She babbled on for a little bit, but Sirius ignored her, as it seemed most of the other prisoners did. After a little while, she fell completely silent. The air seemed to get even colder. Despair filled Sirius. The air was thick with fear.
His body shivered as it glided closer to him. He could feel it pulling the happy memories from him. The tighter he held on to them, the harder they pulled. It was an endless tug of war. Memories of his mom shouting at him were pulled to the front of his mind.
"Crucio!" A crackling red curse shot toward Sirius, and pain immediately filled his body. Everything hurt.
"How could you have possibly forgotten? The one thing I told you to do? Be sorted into a house worthy of the heir of the Black family! But no, you had to be a silly little Gryffindor!" Walburga hissed out, her curse strengthening with her anger.
As the dementor glided away, the painful memory receded slightly, pulling away from the front of his mind, allowing him to shove it back where it came from.
Sirius sat down on the pile of straw that made up his bed, staring out at the starry night he could see through the heavy iron bars of his cell. The night was clear, and the lack of any man-made light of the city allowed the stars to shine brighter than Sirius had ever seen before.
His eyes were immediately drawn to Sirius, the star he was named after. It was notoriously easy to find as it was one of the brightest in the night sky. His eyes drifted to Canis Major, the constellation Sirius was a part of. It was more commonly known as the great dog.
Sirius paused. He was an animagus. When he was in his animagus form, it would protect him from the effects of the Dementors. Seamlessly, Sirius shifted into the black grim of his animagus form. The effect was instantaneous. The subtle despair which had infiltrated his very being seemed to disappear immediately.
Sirius silently thanked Remus for his furry little problem and James for convincing them that becoming an animagus was a good idea. He looked back out the bars of his cell, returning his gaze to the bright, starry night outside. Without the oppressive feeling of the Dementors, Azkaban was almost peaceful.