The Prisoner in Azkaban: Year One (Harry Potter)
Title: The Prisoner in Azkaban
Chapter: Year One
Word Count: 2,124
It was a tragedy. Worse than any of the things he had read about, worse than anything he had seen in the war, or could have imagined on the nights when his mind ran away with the “what if?”s. James was gone. And not in a sad but sufferable way that meant he would be back someday and they’d just have to live without him until then-James was really gone, forever. Sirius had been leaning on James for nearly ten years, he’d never imagined that he would have to face an entire lifetime without his best friend. Without the stability he felt every time he walked into James’s flat and saw Lily’s pretty face smiling from the kitchen or the living room. Without his family. Sirius hadn’t known it for long but it was the kind of thing one felt comfortable with immediately. And now it was torn into shreds; James and Lily were dead, Harry had lost the two best parents a boy could have asked for before he even got to know them, and it was partially Sirius’s fault. Mostly Sirius’s fault.
But there were good things, too. Things that had survived. Things that were strong enough to rescue what could be rescued and help those who made it move past those who hadn’t. Remus Lupin was strong. Sirius Black was going to learn to be strong. They both knew how to start from scratch-they could rebuild. They had to. Harry would have a home. They would give it to him.
It could have been worse, so much worse. Sirius couldn’t believe he was thinking that. If someone had asked him before this all happened if there was anything worse than the idea of James and Lily being murdered, worse than Harry being orphaned and in some inexplicable way, Sirius being orphaned as well…Sirius wouldn’t have been able to think of anything. Sirius would have wanted to tear them apart for even suggesting it. But now there was a voice in the back of his head that said something worse could have happened-it felt like a memory, Sirius wondered if it was a dream he’d half-forgotten. As terrible as the reality was, Sirius was thankful. Because not only were Lily and James dead in that dream, but they hadn’t caught Peter.
Peter had escaped. Sirius had been sent to Azkaban. Sirius hated himself for allowing himself to even have dreamt this because he knew that it was his conscience reminding him (as if he could ever forget) that he may not have betrayed James, but he had been the one who gave Peter the chance to do it. It was his conscience saying, “You don’t belong in Azkaban, but at least some part of your mind does.”He silenced these thoughts as quickly as he could…he’d trusted someone he had been friends with for years-that didn’t seem like such a crime. The crime was who he hadn’t trusted, but he had had his reasons…people don’t go to Azkaban for mistakes. He couldn’t blame himself and he wouldn’t let some dream drive him mad.
And yet the dream would always creep in…he could never fully convince himself that this life after James was real. The longer he ignored it, the faster it would grow and seem to become more of a memory than a dream. Harry would be sent-he didn’t know where. Sirius didn’t know and didn’t want to imagine who he would be raised by. James’s parents had passed, Lily’s parents had passed…surely her sister wouldn’t take him and Sirius couldn’t imagine an orphanage could have been worse than how he would be treated if she did. Sirius had met the woman before, he had heard her talking to her husband about Lily’s “kind”. It had been like a recording of his mother except substituting “Muggles” for “Wizards”. He couldn’t be raised like that, not Harry. Sirius could not believe in a world that would let James’s son be tainted with the same ugliness he had been brought up with-the ugliness that had convinced Sirius a werewolf could not be trusted and had gotten his best friend killed.
Remus had lost everything, too. Remus who had done nothing wrong and had been suspected by the people he was supposed to be able to trust. Remus who Sirius had Loved and who had cared for him and treasured him more than any real family ever had. Remus would have to believe that Sirius was a murderer, a traitor-Remus would hate him, too. And worst of all, he would be alone with his condition, almost as helpless as Harry. He’d never had anyone to cling to but James, Lily, and Sirius and he’d lost all of that in one instant.
So, as horrible as the truth was, there were things that were worse. Maybe it was a defense mechanism of some kind that his mind would let him see just how bad it could get-then he could appreciate that he was alive, that Harry had somehow survived, the war was over, and Remus would never be left alone with the wolf. Sirius could push the dream away and step back into reality. It wasn’t ideal. Oh, but it wasn’t the end.
And some good came of the grief. From the ruins of one perfect family another had been created. Imperfect, solemn, it was not the family Sirius had dreamt of but it was not the one he’d fled from, either. They Loved each other and Sirius didn’t care how ridiculous it sounded, that was all that mattered. How could it matter anymore that they had never acknowledged it? The Love had always been there between them and now that Love was the only thing that still existed. Neither had to say anything, under the denial and fear they had hidden in for years, both always knew and now there was something more important than the fear of rejection. Sirius took Harry home with him. Remus knew to follow.
They gave him a home. A real home. With parents who Loved him and made sure he knew it every day. Parents who Loved each other. They weren’t a mother and father. People would stare when they went out together. No stare could convince Sirius that it would be better to have a mother and a father who glared at each other across the dining room table, who didn’t say anything to each other that wasn’t practical, who didn’t have to tell their children that their marriage was arranged and they wouldn’t have cared if the other had dropped dead that day. That’s what family had meant to Sirius until he met James. That would never be what family meant to Harry.
Harry never noticed there was anything unusual. He Loved them both; he grew up happy, healthy, looking like a perfect copy of James and acting like him, too. Remus would worry himself sick as Sirius would allow Harry to try every stupid idea that came into his two, four, eight (it was amazing how his age seemed to fluctuate from day to day) year old brain. Sirius would smile from the doorway as he watched Remus read to Harry until he fell asleep, or watched Harry fumbling over words as he tried to read back to Remus the stories that had become so familiar. Life became livable again. Not right away. At first it had felt like they would never be able to live like normal people again. Everything was dark, sad; they would take turns alternating between crying and comforting. But eventually one would make a joke, dead pan delivery showing that it was an effort, and the other would not be able to laugh at it. And then one day they could laugh until, finally, jokes and smiles came as freely as they’d used to. James and Lily weren’t forgotten, but Remus and Sirius weren’t corpses anymore.
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I have this dream. I have it every night, though it changes a little every time. This makes it feel like time is really passing and confuses me about whether I’m awake now or not. I like to think, in the dream, that this is a nightmare. But I know this is real when I leave the dream behind because I can feel the chill as the dementors walk by and my feet are rough from pacing on uneven stones and no matter how much I try, I still have no idea how it would feel to kiss Remus Lupin or tumble in the hallway with a miniature version of my best friend. Sanity is what matters most because if I ever do get out of here, I’m going to make the dream real and I need to know that it isn’t yet in order to do that. So I make sure to tell myself the truth every morning even though I want desperately to sink back into that illusion and believe every bit of it.
It’s not too late, that’s what I tell myself. I never did believe that this could last so long. I had friends out there; people must know that I’m not what they say. I could have believed Peter did this, but how could they believe I would do this? I try not to remind myself that I once believed Remus could have done it because he’s my best chance. It’s taking longer than I thought it would to get me out but Peter did a damn good job covering his prints. Remus will find them, and I don’t just believe this because I was (am) maybe (definitely) a little bit (a lot) in Love with him (it isn’t easy to get used to thinking of these things as fact when I’ve spent so many years trying to deny them). It’s not because I was so sure he Loved me back and we were only waiting until one or the other snapped and said so. Remus knows I didn’t do it, he’s proving it right now; it’s what Remus does. He has good ideas. He does research and makes it so that other people can understand the sensible explanation. It’s one of the things I Love about him, but it’s not why he’s coming. He’s coming because he’s not like me and he knows better than to believe that I would ever hurt James. I was never a great person and God knows I’ve done things to Remus Lupin most people wouldn’t have forgiven, but Remus understands the parts of me that suspected him and Remus forgives me when I let those parts get a hold on me.
Dumbledore will help, but I won’t rely on Dumbledore. Remus will have to show him first. Dumbledore didn’t suspect me when they found out there was a traitor, he refused to suspect any of us until there was proof. Naïve to a fault, a little too trusting. I can’t help wondering if he would have been able to spot Peter if he hadn’t turned a blind eye. But Dumbledore would believe now, he saw the part of me that is still a Black the night I pulled that idiotic prank on Severus Snape and he never understood it or forgot it. Not like Remus. Dumbledore would believe the “proof” Peter had created even though he was known for finding innocents accused of things like this and going to any length to pardon them. A few months ago I was still hoping for Dumbledore but now it’s Remus or no one.
And as much as I want to believe, my faith in him is beginning to fade. I don’t keep track of time well in here. I never was one to care too much about the date but it seemed like the kind of thing I needed to be sure about, you know, to prove to them I’m still sane. When I first got in I made the effort, made sure to keep track as Monday became Tuesday and Tuesday turned into Wednesday and so forth. I lost track. I still knew when the full moon was coming, of course, and that helped me count the months but I’ve lost that now, too. It doesn’t matter, time. Not in here. I’ve waited six months? Ten? A year? I try to extinguish the thought but it’s impossibly strong and I’ve already killed it too many times, it keeps coming back. I realize that this is because it’s the truth. He’s not coming. Nobody is.
I have to accept this now because I’ve spent all this time dreaming and waiting for these solutions that aren’t going to happen. I have to find a way to rescue myself.
Year Two
Chapter: Year One
Word Count: 2,124
It was a tragedy. Worse than any of the things he had read about, worse than anything he had seen in the war, or could have imagined on the nights when his mind ran away with the “what if?”s. James was gone. And not in a sad but sufferable way that meant he would be back someday and they’d just have to live without him until then-James was really gone, forever. Sirius had been leaning on James for nearly ten years, he’d never imagined that he would have to face an entire lifetime without his best friend. Without the stability he felt every time he walked into James’s flat and saw Lily’s pretty face smiling from the kitchen or the living room. Without his family. Sirius hadn’t known it for long but it was the kind of thing one felt comfortable with immediately. And now it was torn into shreds; James and Lily were dead, Harry had lost the two best parents a boy could have asked for before he even got to know them, and it was partially Sirius’s fault. Mostly Sirius’s fault.
But there were good things, too. Things that had survived. Things that were strong enough to rescue what could be rescued and help those who made it move past those who hadn’t. Remus Lupin was strong. Sirius Black was going to learn to be strong. They both knew how to start from scratch-they could rebuild. They had to. Harry would have a home. They would give it to him.
It could have been worse, so much worse. Sirius couldn’t believe he was thinking that. If someone had asked him before this all happened if there was anything worse than the idea of James and Lily being murdered, worse than Harry being orphaned and in some inexplicable way, Sirius being orphaned as well…Sirius wouldn’t have been able to think of anything. Sirius would have wanted to tear them apart for even suggesting it. But now there was a voice in the back of his head that said something worse could have happened-it felt like a memory, Sirius wondered if it was a dream he’d half-forgotten. As terrible as the reality was, Sirius was thankful. Because not only were Lily and James dead in that dream, but they hadn’t caught Peter.
Peter had escaped. Sirius had been sent to Azkaban. Sirius hated himself for allowing himself to even have dreamt this because he knew that it was his conscience reminding him (as if he could ever forget) that he may not have betrayed James, but he had been the one who gave Peter the chance to do it. It was his conscience saying, “You don’t belong in Azkaban, but at least some part of your mind does.”He silenced these thoughts as quickly as he could…he’d trusted someone he had been friends with for years-that didn’t seem like such a crime. The crime was who he hadn’t trusted, but he had had his reasons…people don’t go to Azkaban for mistakes. He couldn’t blame himself and he wouldn’t let some dream drive him mad.
And yet the dream would always creep in…he could never fully convince himself that this life after James was real. The longer he ignored it, the faster it would grow and seem to become more of a memory than a dream. Harry would be sent-he didn’t know where. Sirius didn’t know and didn’t want to imagine who he would be raised by. James’s parents had passed, Lily’s parents had passed…surely her sister wouldn’t take him and Sirius couldn’t imagine an orphanage could have been worse than how he would be treated if she did. Sirius had met the woman before, he had heard her talking to her husband about Lily’s “kind”. It had been like a recording of his mother except substituting “Muggles” for “Wizards”. He couldn’t be raised like that, not Harry. Sirius could not believe in a world that would let James’s son be tainted with the same ugliness he had been brought up with-the ugliness that had convinced Sirius a werewolf could not be trusted and had gotten his best friend killed.
Remus had lost everything, too. Remus who had done nothing wrong and had been suspected by the people he was supposed to be able to trust. Remus who Sirius had Loved and who had cared for him and treasured him more than any real family ever had. Remus would have to believe that Sirius was a murderer, a traitor-Remus would hate him, too. And worst of all, he would be alone with his condition, almost as helpless as Harry. He’d never had anyone to cling to but James, Lily, and Sirius and he’d lost all of that in one instant.
So, as horrible as the truth was, there were things that were worse. Maybe it was a defense mechanism of some kind that his mind would let him see just how bad it could get-then he could appreciate that he was alive, that Harry had somehow survived, the war was over, and Remus would never be left alone with the wolf. Sirius could push the dream away and step back into reality. It wasn’t ideal. Oh, but it wasn’t the end.
And some good came of the grief. From the ruins of one perfect family another had been created. Imperfect, solemn, it was not the family Sirius had dreamt of but it was not the one he’d fled from, either. They Loved each other and Sirius didn’t care how ridiculous it sounded, that was all that mattered. How could it matter anymore that they had never acknowledged it? The Love had always been there between them and now that Love was the only thing that still existed. Neither had to say anything, under the denial and fear they had hidden in for years, both always knew and now there was something more important than the fear of rejection. Sirius took Harry home with him. Remus knew to follow.
They gave him a home. A real home. With parents who Loved him and made sure he knew it every day. Parents who Loved each other. They weren’t a mother and father. People would stare when they went out together. No stare could convince Sirius that it would be better to have a mother and a father who glared at each other across the dining room table, who didn’t say anything to each other that wasn’t practical, who didn’t have to tell their children that their marriage was arranged and they wouldn’t have cared if the other had dropped dead that day. That’s what family had meant to Sirius until he met James. That would never be what family meant to Harry.
Harry never noticed there was anything unusual. He Loved them both; he grew up happy, healthy, looking like a perfect copy of James and acting like him, too. Remus would worry himself sick as Sirius would allow Harry to try every stupid idea that came into his two, four, eight (it was amazing how his age seemed to fluctuate from day to day) year old brain. Sirius would smile from the doorway as he watched Remus read to Harry until he fell asleep, or watched Harry fumbling over words as he tried to read back to Remus the stories that had become so familiar. Life became livable again. Not right away. At first it had felt like they would never be able to live like normal people again. Everything was dark, sad; they would take turns alternating between crying and comforting. But eventually one would make a joke, dead pan delivery showing that it was an effort, and the other would not be able to laugh at it. And then one day they could laugh until, finally, jokes and smiles came as freely as they’d used to. James and Lily weren’t forgotten, but Remus and Sirius weren’t corpses anymore.
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I have this dream. I have it every night, though it changes a little every time. This makes it feel like time is really passing and confuses me about whether I’m awake now or not. I like to think, in the dream, that this is a nightmare. But I know this is real when I leave the dream behind because I can feel the chill as the dementors walk by and my feet are rough from pacing on uneven stones and no matter how much I try, I still have no idea how it would feel to kiss Remus Lupin or tumble in the hallway with a miniature version of my best friend. Sanity is what matters most because if I ever do get out of here, I’m going to make the dream real and I need to know that it isn’t yet in order to do that. So I make sure to tell myself the truth every morning even though I want desperately to sink back into that illusion and believe every bit of it.
It’s not too late, that’s what I tell myself. I never did believe that this could last so long. I had friends out there; people must know that I’m not what they say. I could have believed Peter did this, but how could they believe I would do this? I try not to remind myself that I once believed Remus could have done it because he’s my best chance. It’s taking longer than I thought it would to get me out but Peter did a damn good job covering his prints. Remus will find them, and I don’t just believe this because I was (am) maybe (definitely) a little bit (a lot) in Love with him (it isn’t easy to get used to thinking of these things as fact when I’ve spent so many years trying to deny them). It’s not because I was so sure he Loved me back and we were only waiting until one or the other snapped and said so. Remus knows I didn’t do it, he’s proving it right now; it’s what Remus does. He has good ideas. He does research and makes it so that other people can understand the sensible explanation. It’s one of the things I Love about him, but it’s not why he’s coming. He’s coming because he’s not like me and he knows better than to believe that I would ever hurt James. I was never a great person and God knows I’ve done things to Remus Lupin most people wouldn’t have forgiven, but Remus understands the parts of me that suspected him and Remus forgives me when I let those parts get a hold on me.
Dumbledore will help, but I won’t rely on Dumbledore. Remus will have to show him first. Dumbledore didn’t suspect me when they found out there was a traitor, he refused to suspect any of us until there was proof. Naïve to a fault, a little too trusting. I can’t help wondering if he would have been able to spot Peter if he hadn’t turned a blind eye. But Dumbledore would believe now, he saw the part of me that is still a Black the night I pulled that idiotic prank on Severus Snape and he never understood it or forgot it. Not like Remus. Dumbledore would believe the “proof” Peter had created even though he was known for finding innocents accused of things like this and going to any length to pardon them. A few months ago I was still hoping for Dumbledore but now it’s Remus or no one.
And as much as I want to believe, my faith in him is beginning to fade. I don’t keep track of time well in here. I never was one to care too much about the date but it seemed like the kind of thing I needed to be sure about, you know, to prove to them I’m still sane. When I first got in I made the effort, made sure to keep track as Monday became Tuesday and Tuesday turned into Wednesday and so forth. I lost track. I still knew when the full moon was coming, of course, and that helped me count the months but I’ve lost that now, too. It doesn’t matter, time. Not in here. I’ve waited six months? Ten? A year? I try to extinguish the thought but it’s impossibly strong and I’ve already killed it too many times, it keeps coming back. I realize that this is because it’s the truth. He’s not coming. Nobody is.
I have to accept this now because I’ve spent all this time dreaming and waiting for these solutions that aren’t going to happen. I have to find a way to rescue myself.
Year Two