~"Insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results."
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~ Sirius Orion Black - POV ~
~ Azkaban, middle of the North Sea ~
'Eight years ago I made the biggest mistake of my life... eight years?... Eight? Or maybe nine years? Is that right? Where did that number come from? No eight... definitely eight years since that night in Godrics Hallow... eight years since I've failed them... James... Lily... and especially young Harry.' An almost suffocating, nearly overwhelming amount of guilt seems to have settled into my weary bones as I lay in the corner of my dark, dreary, and decrepit cell in Azkaban Prison. The constant moisture in the air because of the North Sea surrounding this island keeps the cells cold and fridged as the moisture seeps through the basalt stones of the prison and rest itself within the bones of all residents of this Merlin forsaken place. That is not even including the literal soul devouring official wardens of this place.
'I deserve this... I deserve all of this for failing my family, it was my idea to switch the Secret Keeper to Peter... Peter, that sniveling rat bastard!' As I quietly simmered in rage at that bloody disloyal, cowardly, and traitorous little rat; I came to the realization, probably for thousandth time this year alone, that I was wroth more with myself than I was with that sniveling little rat Peter. Guilt crawls back into the forefront of thoughts again as my mind starts to recall all of my many failings over the years – contemplating all that I could have and possibly should have done.
'I should have known... I should have known that the cowardly little rat wasn't trustworthy, that he would fold under the weight of the secret he swore to protect... the secret that I willing gave him to protect.' Guilt crawls back into me as that simmering wrath dissolved back into my self loathing; a constant cycle that will make another appearance tomorrow, and the next day, and the next after that.
'Cycles that are only broken by the weekly visits by the D-dementors... and their soul chilling presence... the gruel and moldy bread we are fed... and my dreams where as Padfoot I'm carrying around Harry as he calls for his Pad-Pad, what he called my Animagus form... those dreams that always turned into even worse nightmares of that destroyed cottage... Of James lying dead near the front door, of Lily's body cooling at the foot of Harry's crib... and of one year old Harry crying out for his parents as blood seeps from his newly scared forehead... then I awake with a scream... for the cycle to start all over again.'
'Speaking of cycles,' I'm pulled from my daily 'meditation' of what has become of my life by the sound of multiple boots walking onto the highest security floor in this prison. 'It's not time for breakfast... at least I don't think it should be, and it's always delivered by a single guard. Has something happened...?'
Momentarily struck with the fear of the sudden unknown reason for multiple guards to be moving amongst the worst of the wizarding communities; I contemplated staying within my Animagus form and curling up into a dark corner of my cell, hopping and fearing they'll either keep ignoring me or finally pull me out of my dark cell and give me over to a Dementor to receive its 'Kiss'. Either prolonging or finally ending my torturous stay in this dark stoned hell in the middle of frosty unforgiving ocean.
Luckily; an unfortunate moment of rational and logical reasons for keeping my Animagus form a secret, which sounding like Lily's nagging voice, made me switch back to my weathered and worn regular human form. Still choosing to half rest in the shadowed corner of my cell, my back stiffening as it comes into contact with the cold black basalt stones.
Listening to those boot steps come closer and closer as more inmates seem to realize that something beyond the daily life of Azkabans monotonous routines is occurring. Which starts a shouting match between the inmates, the guards, and some old man who seems to be ignoring everything else as I've not heard anything from him. His and the guards steps had not broken stride since they've arrived on this floor, the sound of his cane striking against the stone is the only sound differentiating him from the rest of the guards.
When the group was a few cells away from my own is the only moment that I heard them come to a stop. It was barely a whisper from a couple cells over, but thanks to dog like sense of hearing from being an Animagus I heard her. My dear cousin Bella was within her cell unusually quiet, possibly still half asleep, until the group was passing by her cell and give out a quiet gasp which I barely caught as I was listening for the incoming guards and special mystery guest in their midst. Her voice was a mixture of disbelief, shock, and a smidgen of madness as she spoke out questioning to the aged mystery man with the cane. "Great grandfather Arcturus?! What are doing here!?"
'What!? Great grand uncle Arcturus Black?! Why would–?'
"Bellatrix... Corvus was correct again, such a waste. I'm disappointed Bella." An aged gravelly voice answered back with a clearly disappointed tone, as if Bella was just a misbehaved child. Which seemed to shut her up completely as other than the sound of her jaw clenching she didn't make another sound as the group moved on.
'Is it really him, Arcturus Black? Why would he be here? Did he just say Corvus? As in my baby brother Corvus? What was he right about?' I was lost in the shock and wonderment of what was going on today that I didn't hear the guards stop outside of my cell until that same gravelly aged voice called out to me; with the clear and somehow different tone of disappointment you'd have at a foolish child.
"Sirius," he began as he came to a stop at the bared boor of my cell. I'd had subconsciously leaned out of my shadowed corner and then flinched back at my name and the familiar old man calling me. 'It's really him!' I thought to myself as I took in his Black family gray eyes, holding my breath hyper-focused on his next word's of either salvation or damnation from my current woes. ", come along now, boy, we're getting you out of here. We'll apparently be busy at St. Mungo's for the rest of the day going by how deplorable you look."
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~ Corvus Black - POV ~
~ Hogwarts Castle, Highlands, Scotland ~
~ February 11th, 1989 ~
'Successful planning leads to truly restful sleep it seems.' I think to myself as I awake in my dormitories standardized four-poster bed the green and silver curtains and upholstery muting the already muted dark room further. Luckily Hogwarts student population was still low enough that single dorm rooms are still available, at least for most of the upper years, a small increase to the number of incoming first year's not yet filling out these hallowed halls. Most Prefects' especially get first pick within our House's dorm rooms.
Other than the four-poster king-sized mahogany bed opposite the door, a sturdy oak desk and a matching wide bookshelf taking up one of the walls opposite of the door leading to a private bathroom. My room is fairly sparse. Other than my trunk and my books, at least the few that I keep displayed on my shelves, there isn't much that I keep outside of my trunk which is magically locked and tamper proof.
Stretching my arms above my head as I let out a massive yawn, I shuffle out of my bed and head for the bathroom while slipping on the fuzzy green snake slippers Nymphadora had given me this last Christmas. I had gotten her a new wand holster with a carved Honey Badger into the dragon leather.
Stepping into the bathroom the charmed ceiling lighting automatically lights up the simple bathroom with a sink and cabinet with mirror on the cabinet door. Besides the sink is the toilet, which I reach for lifting up the seat before reaching into the front flap of my grey boxer-briefs, taking care of my morning ablution. An old brass four-legged tub with a shower fixture stood opposite the sink and toilet. After my morning piss I stood in front of the sink washing my hands with a bar of soap from the sinks small counter before washing my face.
As I finally wiped the excess water from my face with a hand towel I took a look at myself in the mirror. My soul has permanently altered the looks of this body I've taken over in the last five years. While my soul; or more accurately my astral form as a Shadow Copy, resembles my main body exactly, the strong jawline, heterochomic gray and amethyst eyes, the black and white mane of hair, and the pale skin is duplicated exactly.
Yet, when I first took possession of this dying body, my looks resemblance that of a young Timothy Charlemagne was unmistakable. Five years later and I now look like Timothy eats nothing but protein rich foods and swims the whole Black Lake twice a day. My height, as a fifteen year old, has already reached six feet, my shoulders are broad, and I have a large but lithe physique. I sported a slightly curly mane of long black hair that reached the nape of my neck with one side of my head shaved down. Like my girlfriend I also occasionally like to use my Metamorphmagus ability to change the color of my hair or the color of one of my storm gray eyes.
After spending a few more moments in appreciation of my looks in this world in front of the sink, I head back into the room to get dressed. Since it's a Saturday I just throw on a pair of blue jeans with my black dragon leather boots and a black t-shirt with The Beatles band album, Abbey Road, cover on the front. I topped the look off by pairing it with light gray hoody and black leather jacket and by giving my hair a green hue to it. Completing my punkrock look.
There wasn't anyone in the Slytherin common room when I made it out after locking my door and setting up some ward's for anyone stupid enough to try and break into my, again. The empty common room a small mercy this morning as I didn't want to see another pure-blood scion silently looking down on me for my so-called 'Muggle' sense of fashion. The last guy to open his mouth loudly spewing his opinions about 'who' or 'what' I 'should' or 'shouldn't' be doing as another pure-blood found himself a guest of Madame Pomphrey for the next week. After that Slytherin house learnt to keep their opinions about the Slytherins 'Black Prince', as they like to call me, and his choices to themselves.
Heading out of the common room after spotting on of the giant squids tentacles passing by the giant glass window that has a direct view into the murky green Black Lake. I start thinking about how Arcturus should have already retrieved Sirius from Azkaban Prison this morning. It's already nine, so they should be at St. Mungo's at the moment getting Sirius a much needed checkup. Going to Arcturus after getting Skeeter under my thumb was always the plan. As much as the thought of backroom dealings with the Aurors office and using House Blacks political weight leaning on the Ministery and the Minister sounds fun, I'd rather leave all of that in Arcturus capable and experienced hands. Which he's already proven that it was the right choice.
'Arcturus said he'd send me a letter after they'd finished a full battery of diagnostic spells scanning his physical and, more importantly, mental conditions. Reparations from the Ministery should also include covering the medical costs that'll be required for Sirius to get back to full health, whatever that ends up looking like. I wonder if he was able to confirm if Bellatrix was further brainwashed while in service to her Dark Lord, or it was only partially that and her own demented mind, or worse yet, it was all her own choices.' I thought to myself as I remembered Arcturus' description of Bellatrix when she was younger, and in Arcturus' mind, the families brightest witch, one with potential worth cultivating.
'A promising Black daughter who had somehow seemed to have disappeared into the dark arts one day and started falling even faster into madness the next.' Was his impression of Bellatrix' fall into the dark side. I had then off-handedly voiced my speculation of someone, even the Dark Lord himself, using magics to speed up her decent into further madness enough for anyone to earn her absolute loyalty and so such devotion to someone the way she did Voldemort.
Making my way down the corridors and up a flight of stairs, I quickly make my way to the great hall for my breakfast and to await my mail and today's special issue of the Daily Prophet. As I make my way towards the Slytherin table after entering the great hall I notice that most If not everyone was either looking at me or their copies of today's Daily Prophet.
'Looks like the news is already out.' I thought as I took a seat at the table, a coffee mug on a saucer and a jar of sugar immediately materializes in front of me, a fresh dark roast wafting out of the cup.
"Thank you." I say out loud to the hard working Hogwarts elves who have been a great asset to have around. While I'm enjoying my morning coffee Nymphadora starts walking straight towards me after greeting her friends at the Hufflepuffs table and picking up one of the spare newspapers that a friend was finished with. She boldly sits opposite of me while some Slytherins give her the stink-eye while keeping their unwanted opinions to themselves, not wanting to get on my bad side.
"Morning babe, seems like everything has gone smoothly, according to what this article by Rita Skeeter says. I guess you were right about seeking her out in the first place." She says casually while asking the house elves for a cup of tea and some biscuits, which to my American mind well always mean something other than cookies, while dropping the newspaper next to me so I could read the full front-page article whose title reads: ~ SIRIUS BLACK INNOCENT, TRUE BETRAYER OF THE POTTERS CAUGHT BY HOGWARTS STUDENT ~ by Rita Skeeter.
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