Author's note- Okay, this is the first time I have ever attempted a SERIOUS
fan fiction, everything else I have done is mostly satirical or just plain
mental. I had a little anxiety before posting, as I fear that numerous
other stories identical to this one may exist whose authors could accuse me
of plagiarism. I swear to God I copied nobody; this is all my own stuff
(Apart from characters and stuff, which I stole off Mrs.Rowling)
It's set in Azkaban. Sirius is a bit unhinged, and well....It's the
happiest I have personally been with any of my stories. If people like it,
I have already planned many chapters that I thoroughly look forward to
writing.
Enjoy, and remember to review!!!!!!
*
Sirius Black, Sirius White, Sirius Green, Sirius Blue, Sirius Yellow, Sirius Purple.
Sirius Black woke with a startled yell as he rolled off his rigid grey mattress and onto the stone floor. The marginally whiter sheet that had been draped over his body remained pinned under the pile of old newspapers he was using as a pillow. The pictures on the FrontPage often spoke to him. Not a nice conversation, if you could describe it as a conversation at all, but he distinctly felt the impression that there were eyes on him as he lay contemplating his future.
Future, ha, yeah....right.
He remembered when he had visited the place where muggles prayed to a supreme being as a child. What was it called? A churk.....no, that's not right....a church. Anyway, he had been little more then a toddler at the time, but the words from the eccentric cleric who marched back and fourth at the front of the building had permanently cemented themselves into his sub conscious. When imprisoned with only your thoughts for company, the subconscious and irrational side of any mans mind takes control.
So as he lay now on the ground, his left cheek pressed against the cold stone floor he remembered the words of that same cleric.
"Betrayal is the worst of all human sins"
Sirius smiled weakly, something fairly unusual for a man in his position. He wouldn't have thought it then, but with enough time for his mind to dwell on such trivialities he had finally realised how right that cleric had been.
The cleric spoke of how Judas betrayed Jesus at the conclusion of the so- called 'Christmas tale'.
Peter Pettigrew had betrayed Sirius.
Sirius smiled again. This time with a manic glint in his eye as he considered whether Peter had hanged himself after the betrayal, like that Judas guy did. He certainly hoped not, for one day...not necessarily anytime soon, but one day...Lord.Voldemort would rise again and Pettigrew would find himself in an Azkaban cell where vengeance could be had.
Sirius Black, Sirius White, Sirius Green, Sirius Blue, Sirius Yellow, Sirius Purple.
Even he forgot who he was sometimes.
Sirius placed the palms of his hands on the ground, and using his minimal strength pushed himself upwards into a standing position.
"Wormtail as Judas! I guess that makes me the Son of God?" He muttered to himself, half mocking the thought, half entertaining the fantasy. In many ways, the comparisons were understandable. As he stood, his once alert eyes now sagging and tired, he bared something of a physical resemblance to the messiah.
He had the beard for a start, long black strands of greasy hair, which stretched down, further then he'd like to imagine.
Sirius scratched his face, removing a speck of dirt, which was irritating. Well, to say he scratched his face was probably an exaggeration. Little face remained; he was just a mess of dirt and hair with two lifeless yet deep eye sockets in the centre. His mouth had been lost years ago when the authorities had denied him the use of a razor.
Every meal was now a strain. Attempting to force the lumps of stale bread through the jungle of hair and into the hole was easier said than done. Sometimes he even made a game of it, seeing if he could navigate the entire journey blindly, and not get stuck once on the way.
The sort of game that only the idle mind of a man slowly going mad allows.
But Sirius wasn't going mad. A little deranged perhaps, but not clinically mad in the St.Mungo's definition of the word.
Revenge kept his mind fresh. His memories and feelings lay dormant for most of the time, buried deep where the dementors couldn't find them and coated with a thick blanket of revenge more terrible then the cloaked guards could ever comprehend.
For all Sirius cared they could feed on him for a lifetime, but if that's what it took for his dream of revenge to become a reality, he was willing to take the risk. Whether today, whether tomorrow...whether after this world had ended and only spirits remained floating in an abyss of eternity, he was willing to wait.
But one day, Innocent chubby little Wormtail, too cowardly to ever be suspected of wrongdoing, would feel Sirius' wrath.
Sirius Black, Sirius White, Sirius Green, Sirius Blue, Sirius Yellow, Sirius Purple.
Who the hell keeps saying that?
Sirius spun around abruptly and stared out of the front of his cell. No humans were required on the island where the prison resided aside from the inmates, so each cell consisted of little more then a domesticated small stone cave, the open front barred and guarded by magic more powerful then any studied in the Western World.
Sirius flicked his head back, sending a few strands of hair out of his eyes. Blinking for an unnaturally long time, he managed to briefly clear his mind of any insane ravings about Sirius White and the multicoloured surnames, and remember his surroundings, where he was...what he was doing there.
He was there because of Peter Pettigrew.
*
Cornelius Fudge stepped off the decrepit wooden raft and onto dry land. He brushed and flattened his robes to give himself the smartest and most impressive appearance as possible, tucked his newspaper under his arm and begun to trek up towards the fortress.
The confused muggle who rowed the raft was a little perturbed by this intriguing customer, who once a year took a 3-hour trip to the deserted island almost a mile off the Plymouth coast. As the muggle looked out onto the island, he saw nothing but a large pile of tumultuous bracken moving a little in the light wind.
The muggle sighed and begun to turn his raft...well at least he got paid well.
*
Fudge walked up the winding stone steps, eventually reaching the top. He was greeted by a large cloaked figure that said nothing, but handed him a rolled brown piece of parchment from a scabbed grey hand. Fudge took the parchment swiftly and opened it. He glanced for a moment at the contents before nodding at the dementor and speaking.
"I would like to begin the Inspection now. I hope I will suffer no interference, this is Ministry business"
The dementor said nothing, but Fudge felt the anxieties and confusion which were clouding his mind since he had got off the raft, lessen.
"Thank you" Fudge continued, and strode past the dementor into the main courtyard of the prison.
The prison was essentially a huge rock square shaped structure, with the cells set into hollows in each wall. The magically reinforced bars blocked each hollow, preventing any prisoners escape...not that they had any chance to escape. The dementors drove them insane within weeks of arrival. Each time one of the huge black cloaks was seen floating past their cell, the unfortunate convict would feel their most painful memories drifting to the surface of their consciousness as the dementors sucked any happy thoughts away from them.
On the inside, it was known informally as "feeding time". When the dementors brought the prisoners food, the inmates weren't the only ones having a meal.
Fudge walked slowly through the centre of the courtyard, occasionally glimpsing prisoners sitting in their cells shaking and muttering to themselves. Not unusual, the price they deserved to pay for turning their backs on civilised life and choosing to stand alongside the most evil wizard of the 20th century.
Thankfully nearly all Voldemort's supporters were now hidden away in Azkaban, where they could cause nobody any harm.
As Fudge reached the end of the courtyard, he noticed a bearded figure staring back at him from inside the furthest cell. It took him a moment to register who the man was, as the physical difference was astounding from the lively individual he had once known.
Fudge checked his watch. He should really be making his way to check over the prisons records, but a short chat couldn't do any harm. He slipped the watch back into his pocket and swept over to Sirius cell. The dementors positioned outside took this as a cue to leave, and disappeared off to feed on another prisoners mind.
As Cornelius Fudge approached the cell, Sirius wrapped his hands around the bars and contorted his face into something of a feeble smile, baring his yellowed teeth.
"Well, well, well...Sirius Black. It's certainly been a long time"
"Likewise Mr.Fudge," Sirius replied
"Enjoying life in Azkaban Prison?"
"Is that a joke Cornelius?"
"Possibly".
Fudge glared at Sirius for a moment, mildly interested in how unaffected by the dementor's powers he appeared to be. Black, the traitor, seemed almost sane. Sirius eyes fleetingly made contact with the Daily Prophet still tucked under Fudge's arm, and he extended one of his fingers in its direction.
"Are you finished with your newspaper?"
"Yes....why do you ask?"
"I used to rather enjoy the crosswords" Sirius replied sardonically. "I would like to keep up the charade of living a normal life, even if only on a part-time basis"
Fudge smiled weakly and handed Sirius the paper. Sirius accepted it graciously, and for the briefest of seconds their fingers made contact as it exchanged hands. Fudge turned to leave, stopping ever so briefly to allow one final comment.
"You gave up the chance of ever living a normal life Sirius, the day you betrayed your best friend and sold your soul to the devil"
Ignoring Fudge, Sirius flipped open the newspaper. It was today's....excellent; he had been putting up with rubbish tabloids that he got once a month if good behaviour permitted a reward.
On the front-page there was a large photo of a family, 5 members all standing side by side with a pyramid in the distance. Sirius gaze was not drawn to the people though as he sat back on his mattress, but rather to the large grey rat sitting on one of the children's shoulders.
For the first time in 12 years, Sirius' eyes sparkled with true happiness as the realisation hit him. For the first time in 12 years he knew where the man who had ruined his life was. For the first time in 12 years he would be able to begin plotting his revenge.
Unfortunately his dreams would have to wait for now, as the dementors glided back over to guard his cell, and replaced his surge of delight with insane thoughts of multicoloured surnames.
Sirius Black, Sirius White, Sirius Green, Sirius Blue, Sirius Yellow, Sirius Purple.
TO BE CONTINUED....
Enjoy, and remember to review!!!!!!
*
Sirius Black, Sirius White, Sirius Green, Sirius Blue, Sirius Yellow, Sirius Purple.
Sirius Black woke with a startled yell as he rolled off his rigid grey mattress and onto the stone floor. The marginally whiter sheet that had been draped over his body remained pinned under the pile of old newspapers he was using as a pillow. The pictures on the FrontPage often spoke to him. Not a nice conversation, if you could describe it as a conversation at all, but he distinctly felt the impression that there were eyes on him as he lay contemplating his future.
Future, ha, yeah....right.
He remembered when he had visited the place where muggles prayed to a supreme being as a child. What was it called? A churk.....no, that's not right....a church. Anyway, he had been little more then a toddler at the time, but the words from the eccentric cleric who marched back and fourth at the front of the building had permanently cemented themselves into his sub conscious. When imprisoned with only your thoughts for company, the subconscious and irrational side of any mans mind takes control.
So as he lay now on the ground, his left cheek pressed against the cold stone floor he remembered the words of that same cleric.
"Betrayal is the worst of all human sins"
Sirius smiled weakly, something fairly unusual for a man in his position. He wouldn't have thought it then, but with enough time for his mind to dwell on such trivialities he had finally realised how right that cleric had been.
The cleric spoke of how Judas betrayed Jesus at the conclusion of the so- called 'Christmas tale'.
Peter Pettigrew had betrayed Sirius.
Sirius smiled again. This time with a manic glint in his eye as he considered whether Peter had hanged himself after the betrayal, like that Judas guy did. He certainly hoped not, for one day...not necessarily anytime soon, but one day...Lord.Voldemort would rise again and Pettigrew would find himself in an Azkaban cell where vengeance could be had.
Sirius Black, Sirius White, Sirius Green, Sirius Blue, Sirius Yellow, Sirius Purple.
Even he forgot who he was sometimes.
Sirius placed the palms of his hands on the ground, and using his minimal strength pushed himself upwards into a standing position.
"Wormtail as Judas! I guess that makes me the Son of God?" He muttered to himself, half mocking the thought, half entertaining the fantasy. In many ways, the comparisons were understandable. As he stood, his once alert eyes now sagging and tired, he bared something of a physical resemblance to the messiah.
He had the beard for a start, long black strands of greasy hair, which stretched down, further then he'd like to imagine.
Sirius scratched his face, removing a speck of dirt, which was irritating. Well, to say he scratched his face was probably an exaggeration. Little face remained; he was just a mess of dirt and hair with two lifeless yet deep eye sockets in the centre. His mouth had been lost years ago when the authorities had denied him the use of a razor.
Every meal was now a strain. Attempting to force the lumps of stale bread through the jungle of hair and into the hole was easier said than done. Sometimes he even made a game of it, seeing if he could navigate the entire journey blindly, and not get stuck once on the way.
The sort of game that only the idle mind of a man slowly going mad allows.
But Sirius wasn't going mad. A little deranged perhaps, but not clinically mad in the St.Mungo's definition of the word.
Revenge kept his mind fresh. His memories and feelings lay dormant for most of the time, buried deep where the dementors couldn't find them and coated with a thick blanket of revenge more terrible then the cloaked guards could ever comprehend.
For all Sirius cared they could feed on him for a lifetime, but if that's what it took for his dream of revenge to become a reality, he was willing to take the risk. Whether today, whether tomorrow...whether after this world had ended and only spirits remained floating in an abyss of eternity, he was willing to wait.
But one day, Innocent chubby little Wormtail, too cowardly to ever be suspected of wrongdoing, would feel Sirius' wrath.
Sirius Black, Sirius White, Sirius Green, Sirius Blue, Sirius Yellow, Sirius Purple.
Who the hell keeps saying that?
Sirius spun around abruptly and stared out of the front of his cell. No humans were required on the island where the prison resided aside from the inmates, so each cell consisted of little more then a domesticated small stone cave, the open front barred and guarded by magic more powerful then any studied in the Western World.
Sirius flicked his head back, sending a few strands of hair out of his eyes. Blinking for an unnaturally long time, he managed to briefly clear his mind of any insane ravings about Sirius White and the multicoloured surnames, and remember his surroundings, where he was...what he was doing there.
He was there because of Peter Pettigrew.
*
Cornelius Fudge stepped off the decrepit wooden raft and onto dry land. He brushed and flattened his robes to give himself the smartest and most impressive appearance as possible, tucked his newspaper under his arm and begun to trek up towards the fortress.
The confused muggle who rowed the raft was a little perturbed by this intriguing customer, who once a year took a 3-hour trip to the deserted island almost a mile off the Plymouth coast. As the muggle looked out onto the island, he saw nothing but a large pile of tumultuous bracken moving a little in the light wind.
The muggle sighed and begun to turn his raft...well at least he got paid well.
*
Fudge walked up the winding stone steps, eventually reaching the top. He was greeted by a large cloaked figure that said nothing, but handed him a rolled brown piece of parchment from a scabbed grey hand. Fudge took the parchment swiftly and opened it. He glanced for a moment at the contents before nodding at the dementor and speaking.
"I would like to begin the Inspection now. I hope I will suffer no interference, this is Ministry business"
The dementor said nothing, but Fudge felt the anxieties and confusion which were clouding his mind since he had got off the raft, lessen.
"Thank you" Fudge continued, and strode past the dementor into the main courtyard of the prison.
The prison was essentially a huge rock square shaped structure, with the cells set into hollows in each wall. The magically reinforced bars blocked each hollow, preventing any prisoners escape...not that they had any chance to escape. The dementors drove them insane within weeks of arrival. Each time one of the huge black cloaks was seen floating past their cell, the unfortunate convict would feel their most painful memories drifting to the surface of their consciousness as the dementors sucked any happy thoughts away from them.
On the inside, it was known informally as "feeding time". When the dementors brought the prisoners food, the inmates weren't the only ones having a meal.
Fudge walked slowly through the centre of the courtyard, occasionally glimpsing prisoners sitting in their cells shaking and muttering to themselves. Not unusual, the price they deserved to pay for turning their backs on civilised life and choosing to stand alongside the most evil wizard of the 20th century.
Thankfully nearly all Voldemort's supporters were now hidden away in Azkaban, where they could cause nobody any harm.
As Fudge reached the end of the courtyard, he noticed a bearded figure staring back at him from inside the furthest cell. It took him a moment to register who the man was, as the physical difference was astounding from the lively individual he had once known.
Fudge checked his watch. He should really be making his way to check over the prisons records, but a short chat couldn't do any harm. He slipped the watch back into his pocket and swept over to Sirius cell. The dementors positioned outside took this as a cue to leave, and disappeared off to feed on another prisoners mind.
As Cornelius Fudge approached the cell, Sirius wrapped his hands around the bars and contorted his face into something of a feeble smile, baring his yellowed teeth.
"Well, well, well...Sirius Black. It's certainly been a long time"
"Likewise Mr.Fudge," Sirius replied
"Enjoying life in Azkaban Prison?"
"Is that a joke Cornelius?"
"Possibly".
Fudge glared at Sirius for a moment, mildly interested in how unaffected by the dementor's powers he appeared to be. Black, the traitor, seemed almost sane. Sirius eyes fleetingly made contact with the Daily Prophet still tucked under Fudge's arm, and he extended one of his fingers in its direction.
"Are you finished with your newspaper?"
"Yes....why do you ask?"
"I used to rather enjoy the crosswords" Sirius replied sardonically. "I would like to keep up the charade of living a normal life, even if only on a part-time basis"
Fudge smiled weakly and handed Sirius the paper. Sirius accepted it graciously, and for the briefest of seconds their fingers made contact as it exchanged hands. Fudge turned to leave, stopping ever so briefly to allow one final comment.
"You gave up the chance of ever living a normal life Sirius, the day you betrayed your best friend and sold your soul to the devil"
Ignoring Fudge, Sirius flipped open the newspaper. It was today's....excellent; he had been putting up with rubbish tabloids that he got once a month if good behaviour permitted a reward.
On the front-page there was a large photo of a family, 5 members all standing side by side with a pyramid in the distance. Sirius gaze was not drawn to the people though as he sat back on his mattress, but rather to the large grey rat sitting on one of the children's shoulders.
For the first time in 12 years, Sirius' eyes sparkled with true happiness as the realisation hit him. For the first time in 12 years he knew where the man who had ruined his life was. For the first time in 12 years he would be able to begin plotting his revenge.
Unfortunately his dreams would have to wait for now, as the dementors glided back over to guard his cell, and replaced his surge of delight with insane thoughts of multicoloured surnames.
Sirius Black, Sirius White, Sirius Green, Sirius Blue, Sirius Yellow, Sirius Purple.
TO BE CONTINUED....