Azkaban Inmates

Disclaimer: I don't own the Harry Potter Universe.

I got a second job, which I really needed. It left even less time for writing though. My story isn't abandoned! I promise. Again I thank all of you for your patience.

Year: 1984

Flashback:

I was in the dining room of the home I purchased for the triplets and myself. The walls were a dark gold with white trimming. In the middle of the ceiling was a pretty candelabra. Down the center of the oak table I sat at was a runner, runic designs woven into the fabric. Books and parchments were scattered in front of me.

My thoughts were focused on schooling as I faced the floor-to-ceiling double doors, one slightly ajar to let the fresh air in.

Hogwarts is located in Scotland. It's common for Irish parents to send their children there, both of mine attended. In fact, Hogwarts only admitted students from the United Kingdom or Ireland. Mother, born and raised in Silgo, graduated in 1939. A year later she was arranged to marry Orion Black.

The wedding wasn't planned to happen until a year after that, so the families could get everything decided on and situated. Even a year after the engagement he was still only the disgustingly young age of 12. A mere second year.

Some people, less educated in pureblood arranged marriages, would think their ages were the reason the wedding was canceled. Mother met Orion the day before they were to be wed, as customary, and was revolted she was going to have a child-groom.

Unfortunately that isn't how it works.

While she didn't meet him in person until then, it wasn't as if she was completely ignorant about who she was going to marry. No; personal feelings about the age difference would have been irrelevant. So what in Merlin's name happened that would have resulted in the ceremony being called off? One of those mysteries I ponder but will never truly know.

My father was a much better match in my biased opinion. He was born and raised in Dublin. Jasper Keel graduated from Hogwarts in 1931 and married my mother early 1942. Their engagement was much shorter than Mother and her previous fiancé.

Neither Adran nor I went to Hogwarts though. He attended Castelobruxo, in Brazil. Graduating in 1963. It's a school in the rain forest behind the disguise of a ruined temple. My parents wanted us to be able to take in the allure and culture of a new continent, as well as learn about an exotic wizarding nation first hand. Usually it only takes students from South America. I'm not sure how my Mother managed to convince them to allow a kid from Ireland to attend.

It was impressive though.

When the discussion of school ever came up in my early childhood, Father always spoke about what a fun adventure it would be for me. Even more so than the average student. Mother was always the one to talk about the educational and safety benefits.

For she was planning to send me to Uagado, in Africa. It was the largest of all wizarding schools. The main reason Mother wanted me there, was because they were known for teaching their students to cast with hand gestures instead of wands. She believed Uagado would be my best chance and was determined to get them to allow me in.

My entire childhood Mother and Father made sure to build up my excitement for the place. I impatiently counted down the years. Only to be devastated when Ardan forced me to go to Durmstrang instead. A place that doesn't allow mudbloods and is widely known for teaching dark magic.

Not all students there had pureblood supremacy prejudges, myself being among that group. It honestly wasn't a horrible school. However, clearly that's partly the reason for the irritating difficulty I find in calling them muggleborns instead. The other being that I was raised around the word mudblood even before school. My parents used it, though like me, I'm sure it was only out of habit. A damn hard one to break at that.

"Do they really need to go anywhere?" I mutter to myself irately. Forcing my thoughts back to the books and parchments I've studied in depth many times already.

There are eleven long-established and prestigious wizarding schools worldwide, four of which were previously mentioned. My brothers won't be going to any of them. No. They need a smaller school. One that's either not very-well known, far away, or both. One Ardan wouldn't think of them being at. I've studied countless, visiting the more promising ones in person. Taking into account the location, grade averages, courses available, social atmosphere, and how safe they are.

The closer it got for the triplets to leave, the more I was tempted to forbid it. The thought of them being so far out of my immediate reach was terrifying. It always has been, but the fear has grown since freeing them from Ardan. My deadline for picking one was closing in faster than I'd like. I've been trying to find the perfect school long before my graduation, yet here I am. Still undecided.

Laughter and yelling beckoned me from outside. Tempting me to forget my stress for a little while and join in on the fun. After giving a heavy sigh, I stand and walk out of the slightly ajar door.

The sight that greeted me when I turn the corner of the house was Kane, breathing fire, chasing Niall. The latter was cursing loudly at his brother as he frantically tried to not get set on fire. I saw the fire cease, causing Kane to scramble for something in his pockets as he ran. After tossing back a vial that must contain Dogbreath, he started breathing fire again.

Lochlan, a book laying forgotten on the ground at his feet, was whooping and cheering Kane on. He alternated between clapping and fist pumping the air as he screamed out his encouragement.

"I can't ever leave the three of you alone, can I?" I say, walking up behind the energetic 11 year-old. "Where on earth did you manage to get Dogbreath?"

I don't have any in the house and they haven't left the property. So the logical assumption I jumped to was they got Bopsy to get some.

Lochlan started and jerked around. His grin never wavered. "Bopsy!"

Just like I thought. Clearly I need to establish more boundaries regarding the children with that elf. 11 year-olds have no business ordering potions, especially ones that could be dangerous. Honestly, do I need to say they can't order weapons and kill each other too? Perhaps I should explicitly tell the elf that demands to burn the house to the ground are also to be ignored?

And is it not a given that I should be alerted to all purchases?

I frowned, eyes glancing at the discarded book on the ground. It contents now clearly visible as the most famous potioneers in history. He'll excel in that class at school, no doubt about it. Something that can be seen as both good and bad. Good, if he desired be a potioneer himself. Bad, as a smart boy looking for entertainment in the form of mischief.

"One day I'll be able to make it myself." Lochlan continued passionately. "And every other potion in the world too!"

The sister in me, found the sight Kane and Niall made dreadfully amusing. The part of me that was like a parent, disapproved and wanted to scold them. On one hand, it could've turned out horrid had they gotten a potion with consequences far more ruinous than Dogbreath. On the other, they weren't stupid. It was a harmless prank so far. I enjoy pranks as much as the next person.

I was torn. Do I give them a stern talking to, or laugh and join in? Does it have to be one or the other? Can I laugh but make sure they knew how dangerous things COULD'VE been? Walking the line between parent and sister is tough. Can I be both or do I have to choose now?

"Frost?" Sirius's voice inquired.

It was then I noticed the car was now parked outside of our motel door. I completely zoned out the entire ride back. We had breakfast early this morning before going to the muggle park for a few hours. Now we're heading to my safe house in Greece. We'll be going there with Harry every Saturday from now on. He's already been uprooted enough without warning in his young life. We want Harry to have time to get used to the place before moving in.

Which we've decided to do when our absence is noticed. Once it is, we won't be able to leave and do as we please. We'll have to 20 times more careful than we are now. So we're going to take advantage of our time of freedom, before coming official fugitives and having no choice but to be shackled to the place.

"I'm fine." I reassure, getting out. "Just got lost in thought, is all."

We walk around the motel and keep going until we're at the place our newspapers are delivered. I wrap an arm around Sirius and he does the same to me. With my other hand I hold onto Harry, as he sits perched on his godfathers' hip.

Sirius has informed the laddie about many different aspects of our world. However, it's one thing to hear about something. It's another to actually see it with your own eyes. Harry's reaction to the mirror at Lupins' being a prime example. No matter how much Sirius tried preparing him, my safe house will still be a completely new experience.

"Thank, Merlin." Sirius said in relief when I pulled them through. I took that to mean it wasn't nearly as bad this time for him. It was still the same level of difficulty on my end.

His grey eyes go to the dizzy and nauseous-looking toddler clinging to him. Harry was so preoccupied with the feeling of coming through the barrier, he didn't even flinch when the marble hippogriff, out of sight at the moment,let out a piercing caw to greet us.

The hand holding me lets go to run through Harry's unruly hair. "I'm sorry, Prongslet. I know it's awful, but it's only that bad the first time. You'll feel better in a minute."

Sirius continued to mummer comforting words and caress inky locks until the laddie was alright again.

"You're a natural with him."

His head snaps to me and he barks a slightly choked laugh of surprise. "I'm glad that's how I come across, because it sure doesn't feel like it. All I can think about is how badly I'm going to bugger up this parenting thing up."

Vivid irises flicker to Harry and a straight nose crinkles slightly. Whoops. His expression said. Talking like that in front of him probably isn't a good idea.

"Only the good parents worry about that sort of thing." I point out as we start walking. "You already have the instincts. Just remember to keep putting Harry's best interests first."

"Thanks, luv." Padfoot responds.

I could see in his eyes there was more on his mind. They just weren't the sort of things he wants to say in front of his godson. I made a promise to myself then; to keep encouraging Sirius regarding Harry. He doesn't feel confident in his parenting abilities, so I'll keep trying to get him to see what I see.

The walk was quiet for a while. Sirius grinned at a hedge Nawa Rupa that made its way around a tree. It was an odd looking thing, the amalgamation of nine animals in one being. They originate from Asia.

When Harry finally felt like lifting his head from his godfathers' shoulder, he was dumbstruck. He didn't know where he wanted to look more. Hedge-creatures of varying sizes moved around. The hippogriff in the fountain, that can be seen now a distance ahead of us, ruffled its marble feathers. Then picked at them with a sharp beak. Water shot up from below his perch and spun around him in a beautiful dance.

My large safe-house sat atop a hill. The ground was not entirely flat here. Some of the yard was, while other parts dipped and slopped sporadically throughout it. The further from the house and closer to the barrier you were; the more trees you encounter. In the front you could clearly tell a good number must have been cleared out. There were less than a third left of the amount that must have been here. To the left and right of the house had more. As did the back.

Past the towering semitransparent barrier, you could see the forest and mountains looming in the distance. Greece was stunning. Regardless if you were deep in the mountainous areas or by the wide open sea.

"You see the unicorn?" Sirius asked the toddler when we got closer to the house. He released an arm from around the child to point a charcoal-smeared finger. Harry nods. All our gazes go to the green creature that reared up on strong haunches. Forelegs pawed at the air as it made an angry sound. "His name is Cayden."

Harry gasps and points to the Cockatrice that landed on the roof. It was a flying animal that was part-rooster and part-snake. I pity any misfortunate soul who ever encounters a real one. They're vicious and deadly.

"We haven't named him. Why don't you think of something, pup?" Sirius replied. The laddie looked intimidated with the responsibility but nodded. "You don't have to. I can, if you'd rather."

Harry hesitated, before shaking his head and pointing to himself.

"Are you hungry?" I ask him. He nods distractedly, eyes shooting in every direction to soak in as much as possible. "I can get the house elves to cook for us."

"Do you remember me telling you about them?" Sirius inquired. He bobbed his head 'yes' but didn't seem too confident. "What do they do?"

Harry thought hard. After a minute his little face fell, crestfallen.

"Hey, now." Sirius tapped him on the nose. "That's alright. You've been given a lot of information in a short time. I don't mind telling you again. They're little helpers to wizards and witches."

That was grossly oversimplifying things. Their relationship to us and the elves themselves were more complex than that. But that explanation is fine enough for such a young thing.

Harry perked up, remembering now that Sirius said it again.

"Fakry?" I call.

He appeared in front of me, with his bat-like ears and eager eyes. "We is all glad Mistress is back."

Harry's gaze zeroed in on the bald creature, watching every move with the upmost fascination.

"You'll be seeing us a lot from now on." I reassure.

Fakry didn't look as happy about that as I thought he would. Last time they were tripping over themselves to get me to stay as long as possible. And now…

"Is everything alright?" I wonder in concern. The little elf shifted his weight on spindly legs. "Fakry?"

"It's not safe here. Not safe at all." He looked ashamed to admit it, like it was a personal failure. "We like Mistress being here. Mistress has been gone a long time, but coming lots of times too close together is dangerous."

It took me all of a second to guess what he must mean. "Are you worried about Ardan?"

Fakry shrunk in on himself. "Master Ardan is a good master."

"He won't bother us here anymore." I knelt down to be closer to his level. "Can't you feel it? The bond between you?"

"Gone like old Mistress and Master." Fakry said.

"Yes, just like that." I encourage. His expression and body language doesn't change. "Talk to me. Tell me what's wrong. I give you permission to speak freely."

"It feels too good to be true, Mistress." Fakry's voice was barely a whisper. He didn't look me in the eyes. "We's too scared to hope. Master Ardan is smart. Master Adran be very sneaky."

What has that lowlife done to you? Must he be a nuisance to everyone?

"I saw to it personally that he'd never hurt anyone again."

A little bit of hope crept across his face. "Mistress did?"

"I did. I promise he's gone for good."

Fakry's body relaxed but the shame still lingered. "Master Ardan was a good master."

"No he wasn't." I say. "He scared you. It's okay to be glad he's gone."

"Yes, Mistress." Fakry tried for a smile. "Is there anything Fakry can do?"

Deciding pushing the topic would do more harm than good, I let him come to terms with things himself.

"We're very hungry. Can you make us something to eat?"

He puffed his chest out and straightened his spine. "Fakry will make sure the food is the best for Mistress and her guests."

I stood back up. "I have full faith in you."

Fakry disappears as soon as the last word leaves my mouth.

Again I felt guilty for not doing anything to help my elves. All these years and they've only had Ardan and my godmothers' portrait for company. It seemed the only thing Ardan ever did was use up supplies and torment the elves for enjoyment. He had a wide variety of sadistic pleasures he partook in. Physiological torment was something of a favorite. Though he did like good old-fashion abuse too.

Evil is not born, it's made. That is a universal saying for magical and muggle folk alike. However, in some instances - however uncommon they may be - the person is just born with a part of themselves missing inside. The part responsible for a persons' conscience and the ability to feel empathy. My brother was calculating and coldhearted. There was not a series of tragedies and/or heartbreaks that made him that way. No grand story behind the way he was how he was. Ardan Keel was simply born with a crucial part of himself missing.

If I didn't despise him so deeply, I might've pitied him.

"Let's head inside." I suggest. "Maybe we'll be able to find my Great-Aunt Rina this time."

Her actual name was Lasairfhíona. Pronounced Lah-sah-reena. The meaning of it being, 'wine made from flames.'

She was my godmother; one of the very few relatives who didn't turn their backs when Mother made her choice. I don't remember her when she was alive. I only recall speaking to her portrait. Which I did often every summer we stayed here until I was 10.

Great-Aunt Rina died of Goblin Fever when I was 4. The disease is a relatively harmless ailment to goblins, ogres, and similar creatures. It's like their version of the flu. To wizarding kind, it's much deadlier.

The symptoms include: forgetfulness, rapid mood swings, and loss of control over the persons' magic. The victim often becomes violent, depressed, or even suicidal. The final stage is when their magical core shatters, sending them into a comatose state before death. There are a combination of potions and spells to slow down the inevitable shattering of their core, prolonging their life a little bit, but as of yet there is no cure.

"It didn't seem like she wanted to be found." Sirius replied, a touch of amusement in his tone.

"She might've been in a mood." I agree as we start walking again.

I searched for her, wanting to introduce Sirius. But my godmother wasn't in the gallery or her portrait in the library. The only time we went upstairs was when we were inebriated. There might be a portrait up there, but I can't be sure. We'd forgotten about our quest at that point.

She does guard the potions laboratory in the floor below ground level. A room I was never allowed into as a child. If only I could recall how to get down there. We never got around to asking.

This time I will for certain. It's killing me that I can't remember.

"Go on." Sirius chuckled as we get even closer to the house, making a detour to the fountain instead of passing it. "Your gaze always seems to return here, no matter how many different directions you look in. Knock yourself out, kiddo."

Harry looked hopefully at Sirius's grinning face. Then, seeing as it was my house, glanced shyly me for consent.

I inclined my head in approval. So my love sat Harry on the edge of the fountain to take off his shoes and cast a spell on his glasses to repel water. After twisting him around, Padfoot gave an encouraging pat on his back.

Harry held himself carefully, barely moving his feet in the cool liquid.

"Sod that." Sirius whispered to me, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

In a quick motion he dipped his hand in the fountain and splashed Harry. It was amusing to watch the way his little arms flailed about as he spluttered.

"What?" Sirius splashed him again with a broad grin. "Is something the matter?"

Harry started giggling as he held his arms protectively in front of himself. After receiving a few more splashes, he jumped into the fountain and pushed as much water as he was able toward Sirius. What a sight he made; swallowed up his neck, making more hit himself in the face the harder he tried forcing it toward his godfather.

The moment was so wonderful and serene. I wanted to bask in it, but something creeps up on me unexpectedly. At such a frustratingly inopportune time. It grabs my heart tight. The beast that stalks me, always hiding in the shadows waiting to pounce. Now it weighed me down, further away from the sunlight and laughter.

My feet backed away from them slowly. When I could be sure I wouldn't be noticed, I fled into the house.

"Stop it. Don't do this now!" I hiss to myself. "Why do you have to ruin a perfectly good day?"

How does Sirius do it? I wonder helplessly. He's so much stronger than I am.

He must feel it too; after everything he's been through. I've seen the look on his face after one of his nightmares. How does he cope during the day? How does he fight it so well?

Because the heaviness was back with a fierce vengeance. A sense of déjà vu swept over me, as the ghosts of my past paraded around and within me. Reminding me of very mistake I made, all the loss I've ever felt, every night I cried myself to sleep and struggled to keep breathing, when my entire body sagged with exhaustion and numbed agony.

I didn't want to ruin Sirius's relaxing day with Harry. I wanted to be out there dammit, enjoying myself. Not in here wallowing. I don't know how much time passed, but self-loathing and misery climbed higher by the second. Reaching such heights that it made me wish I could tear my own skin off just to get away from it.

"Mistress?" A little voice inquired in concern.

It brought my surroundings back into focus. I didn't remember walking this far, I was at the complete opposite side of the house than I thought.

"I'm fine." I force out.

The little elf rung her hands together anxiously, concern mounting in her big eyes. "Is Mistress unwell? Does Mistress want Veda to get her a potion?"

"Draught of Peace." I pleaded, desperate for the wretched desolation choking me to go away. Or at the very least lose enough severity that I can ignore it. I refuse to ruin Sirius's day. Refuse. "You did restock all the depleted supplies, didn't you?"

She nodded hurriedly, ears flapping. "Veda will be right back!"

"Wait!" I blurt, not wanting be left alone to drown again. I needed a distraction from my own mind. "I want to go with you."

"Good idea, Mistress." Veda smiled. "Old Mistress and Masters' echo will be so happy to see you."

Before that could fully register, she grabbed ahold of my wrist and we were gone. In a millisecond the world came back into focus.

There were two doors in here, not including the cupboard. One was along the far right side of the wall I was facing, the other was on the other side of the room. A large empty portrait took most of it.

The room was almost obsessively clean in here. Along two of the five large walls were rows and rows of dustless jar, labeled in the same neat script with even strokes of a quill, every label faced forwards. Upon closer inspection, they were categorized according to content and then alphabetized.

An array of shiny knives hung suspended in midair above a porcelain sink. Beside it was a cupboard, presumably full of other supplies. Plumbing is one of the rare instances of wizards copying muggle practices. We started adapting to the use of it in the 18th century.

Not that that has any relevance to anything at the moment.

"Echo, you said?" I ask monotone, remembering that's what they referred to Great-Aunt Rina's portrait as when I was a kid.

It was a very fitting name for them. Portraits are nothing more than enchanted paint. The ritual that gets preformed, linking the customer to their painting, makes it animate when they die. The portrait gets infused with an 'echo' of who they used to be, such as their memories and personality.

"Yes, Mistress." Veda bounced on her toes. "Veda got them set up down here when old Mistress and Master died, just like she was told to do!"

They had portraits made… I was never told that. And now they're the ones guarding door. I was relieved my parents must be in the one on the other side of it. They weren't something I was remotely in the right mindset to deal with. The thought of seeing my mother, having her talk to me, even if it was just a portrait, left a bitter taste in my mouth. I guess I had more resentment still inside me toward her than I thought.

A horrid memory rose up about the night she died.

"Mother!" I shove her unresponsive body. "Mummy, wake up. This isn't funny! Wake up! Right now! RIGHT NOW!"

It was all I could do; shove her body, scream, and cry. I didn't believe it. She wouldn't leave us. Not after Father was taken. We needed her. She wouldn't do that.

All my screaming woke up the triplets, causing them to rush into the room in a panic. It didn't take long for their alarmed questions to turn into tears. All three of them started following my lead. They tugged and pulled at Mother, trying to get her to wake up. But she never did and never would again.

That was exactly how were found. The house elves had to force us from the room, it was the only way we'd release our hold on Mother.

My eyes flicker away from the empty portrait. "I really need that draught." I insisted in a strangled voice.

"How many?" Veda asked. Potion supplies and ingredients flew out of their respected spots. "More than two?"

"One at the moment will be fine."

A vial appears in her little hands. "Only one left now, Veda will make more."

She continued on to tell me how happy she was that they were able to restock. Veda listed all the premade potions that they got. Then named all the ingredients they bought and how much of each.

While she spoke, I hurriedly gulped down turquoise liquid. It was like a soothing balm to my hectic insides, relieving my anxiety and agitation. Thank Merlin for The Draught of Peace.

Goblin Fever was something I stumbled across online, put my own personal Harry Potter twist to, and couldn't help but add in my story. Old age and murder aren't the only ways wizarding kind die after all.

I hope the chapter didn't disappoint.