Chapter 1 : Lost?
| ||Rating: 15+||Chapter Reviews: 12|
Background: Font color:
The boat rocks on the water. Tilt to the left. Tilt to the right. Sirius gazes out across the North Sea. The black waves ripple towards him, first starting as little swirls going innocently round and round, then gaining momentum and towering over him.
The boatman seems nonplussed as they splatter against his face, turning the grizzly grey beard a dark black. Each wave brings a new set of droplets turning it darker and darker, until thereís no escape from the beard's fate of an ebony hue. It's almost as if it's a sign that Sirius will never ever be able to escape his fate. The fate which isn't even meant to be his.
The only sound the man makes is a small grunt now and then, before he carries on ploughing through the water towards the obelisk of rock standing proud and haughty in front of them. The angular shards of it slice through the towering waves making it seem as if the waves are the prey, not the predator, this time round.
Sirius can only concentrate on the transformation of the waves though. Itís the only thing keeping him calm. The only thing stopping him from jumping into the depths of them. From calm to ferocious, grey to black, guilty to innocent. Itís the only thing that gives him hope for change.
Looking at the sun slowly rise up from the water, he presses his hand against the side of the boat and draws in five big indents with the jagged remnants of his nail.
Itís day five of them being lost.
On day forty nine of them being lost, the screams of the person next to him grow louder and louder, more and more terrifying. They bellow around the personís cell, pushing their way into Siriusís. At first, they pierce through his ears, pushing right into his head so he can never forget them, but then after sometime they become small wails of desperation, like a child's lament for its parents. Perhaps even more terrifying than the screams.
All he can do is block them out and concentrate on adding another line to the wall.
Itís been nearly fifty days since theyíve been gone. Nearly fifty days of blocking out the cries trying to burst free of his body. Blocking out the images of his friends bodies dead on the floor because of him. Blocking out the smiling face of Wormtail, knowing now it was all a lie. The only thing he doesnít block out is his innocence. Sirius knows he didnít do it. He couldnít have done it. Never would have done it for that matter.
He didn't kill James and Lily.
At night itís the worst. He canít block out the images then. As soon as his eyes close, the timeline of his best friends's lives plays out in his mind. Her swinging red hair, his mad black. Sometimes the small tufts of Harryís hair feature in it too. Another stab to his heart as he thinks about his godson. Itís worse when they laugh, their glinting eyes almost taunting Sirius for the mistake he made. For trusting a sly rat.
But he will make Wormtail pay. He won't let him weasel out of this truth.
Other memories begin to haunt him on the hundredth and second day of them being gone. Sirius almost wonders whether itís because heís given up on the land of dreams. The idea of that had disappeared long ago. As soon as he can feel his eyelids drooping downwards, he prods himself awake. Itís the only way to maintain control, because as soon as his pupils are covered, his fears take over.
Sometimes the nightmares seep into daylight and become a reality for him.
This proves to be true on the hundredth and second day of captivity. His cousinís cry shakes through the air, grazing at his chin as it makes contact. Reverberating off of the walls, quaking the floor. At first, Sirius thinks itís the dementors finally getting to him, seeping into his mind and that he's lost his fight against them. That his mind has lost the game against sanity. But then he sees her.
Her black curls splaying out everywhere, her lips pursed as if sheís analysing the quality of the rooms, and the strut as she walks past his cell. Even know, locked up in Azkaban, she still scares him. She still makes him fear what she might do. What she could do. He doesn't even bother wondering what she's in here for. Where Bella's concerned the answer could be anything.
She slowly becomes a source of amusement for Sirius when she starts prostrating herself to Voldemort. In Azkaban, he has to find humour in the strangest of places.
Itís his second year in Azkaban today. Two whole years, seven hundred and thirty days. Countless hours, minutes, seconds. The person next to him doesnít scream anymore. Heís been silenced long ago. The body disappearing was a big enough sign that the final silencing for all of them would come one day.
Sirius wonít be silenced though. Heís decided that. He needs to do something first. He needs to do it for them. All three of them. James. Lily. Harry. He needs to prove his innocence. Itís the only thing keeping him somewhat sane in here anyhow.
Iím innocent, Iím innocent, Iím innocent. That thought floats around his mind constantly.
Heís even engraved it on the wall. The letters jut out jaggedly, his care for precision long been forgotten. He doesnít have any energy for that now. He doesn't have energy for many things now. Even Bellaís desperate cries in the night donít amuse him anymore. All he can do is think of the game. The game that he has to win. That he will win.
Sirius needs to show the world that while he may have lost the game initially, he's back on track now. That he will win. He has the ultimate prize, after all. The prize being he never truly lost his friends.
Gazing down at the floor, the rocks he uses to mark the wall with are slowly disintegrating. A small trail of fragments mark where they fell from his hand and bounced on the floor. It's a small trail though. Like the trail that will lead him to Wormtail.
The land of dreams has come to him today. He doesnít know which day because after day one thousand, two hundred and ten had passed there was no more room on the wall to mark a new one, another day of James and Lily being dead. He still mourns them every day. He will always mourn them every day. But today gives some hope that dreams will conquer nightmares. That the truth of their death will be outed.
Today, heís found his trail to Wormtail. Heís really found it. Heís also found that being slightly impertinent to the Minister of Magic and asking for his newspaper can be useful.
The rat sits on the ginger boyís shoulder. Teeth bared, tail twitching. The wormy tail. He can even see the missing paw. Wormtailís missing finger. He's a lot more rat like than Sirius ever thought. A lot cleverer, a lot more cunning, than he ever thought. He really should have been a Slytherin, Sirius thinks, instead of masquerading as someone brave.
But the mask Wormtailís hiding behind will soon be ripped away. Torn to shreds. Burnt to ash. Because heís coming for Wormtail. Heís going to the win the game. Heís going to show Wormtail what losing feels like.
Because Sirius hasnít lost, in fact, heís on the verge of winning.
Author's Note: So this was written for TGS's Anniversary challenge, and we had to base it around anniversaries, so I chose Sirius' multiple anniversaries of Lily and James' death because who wants to celebrate happy things? :P I hope you did like it as it was my first ever songfic and a lot of fun to do, and to get into Sirius' mind as he is a really fascinating character.
Also, the quote in the summary and the ones here belong to the wonderful Coldplay and are from their song Lost? (the question mark version inspired this one as it's a lot more sombre and sad than the more upbeat Lost!).
I would love feedback on this is as it is something different for me, so if you left a review I would be so grateful, and thank you for reading! ♥
Other Similar Stories
Almost the C...
The turning ...
by Secret Pa...