The Traitor

DISCLAIMER: I don't own a thing, everything belongs to their rightful owners.

*A/N* I just love Sirius's story - though it is a pretty tragic thing for a children's book. I hope you'll enjoy what I've made of it. There was no description of Azkaban in the books, so I stuck roughly with what we got to see in the movies.
If you are interested, have a look at my other Harry Potter texts on my profile.

The morning came, despite everything that had happened, the purple sky was streaked with bloody red and gold.

Gryffindor was paying a last homage to its seeker, Sirius thought as he stared disgustedly at the beautiful sunrise. How could the world dare to keep turning? They had been betrayed, and James and Lily-

Little Harry's crying was still filling his ears, full of fear and agony, as if he had despite his early age grasped that his mother would not stand up again.

Sirius choked slightly at the thought of the kid - he had promised James to take care of Harry, had he not - but no, he was safer where he was now. Sirius had no idea how to take care of a child, and anyway, where he was going he could not take Harry with him.

He felt sick with fury and pain and the pounding of his heart was painfully heavy.

Traitor.

Clutching his wand, he turned on the spot and with a twirl of the dark robes still slightly stained with blood, he was gone.

"Pettigrew," a young man barked across the London street that was just starting to fill with the first early raisers. He looked strange, dressed in a long black coat and leather boots, clutching a wooden stick.

But what made the passers-by recoil at his sight was the furious scowl distorting his handsome face. His dark eyes blazed violently in the direction of a scrawny man with a pointed face who staggered right backwards into the wall at the sight of him.

With a few long steps, the other man had him cornered, stick pointed at the much shorter man's throat. The latter shrank like a frightened mouse, making much the same squealing noises and shrieked, his voice trembling horribly:

"Don't kill me!"

The other man, quivering from the toes to his raven-black hair, too, bore the end of his stick into the smaller man's neck. "Death is too kind for you, bastard," he growled and a strangled sob escaped the mousy-haired man, "but I've got nothing else at hand."

The small one shrank even further, but, perhaps just a trick of the light, his pale eyes seemed to light up for a moment.

"What have we ever done to you, Sirius?" he whimpered.

"WHAT YOU'VE-" Sirius roared, but was cut off by the other's high-pitched screaming.

"First James and Lily, and now you're going to kill me! Your best friends, how could you, Sirius? Traitor!"

The dark-haired man stared at him, his stick still half-raised, his face full of such disgust it appeared to have paralysed him. "You- That you dare-" he stammered, words so full of disdain and fury he seemed on the verge of choking on each of them.

"Lily and James!" the other one screeched again.

"You pathetic, spineless little worm, we should have known right from the start," Sirius bellowed, raising his stick once more, jabbing it in his chest.

"Isn't it enough that they're dead?" the other squealed, sobbing, but his voice a little steadier. "Are you going to kill the rest of us, too? Poor Remus?"

The other man's dark eyes were blind with cold fury, he grabbed mousy-hair by the jacket and barked: "I'll kill you, it's all you deserve, filthy little BASTARD!"

The next second, an enormous bang tore the morning apart as the street was blasted open. Bricks and debris flew though the air. As the curtain of dust finally fell, it revealed a gaping hole, six foot deep at least, in the middle of the street. Shreds of skin, bone splinters and blood covered the area.

Water streamed from the ripped pipes and hundreds of rats fled from the flood and the sudden bright daylight. People were running, screaming.

A small stain of blood on the wall was all that was left of the short man with the pointed face.

And right in the middle of all the mayhem stood the man with the raven-black hair and the mad eyes, and after a moment, he burst into a loud, wild laughter.

Sirius stared at the gaping hole, then at the Muggles stumbling through the chaos, at the body parts and the blood everywhere.

Dead. At least ten people dead.

Well done, Peter, he thought numbly. Your aim's still as dreadful as it's always been, but you've taken me down with you.

Nobody was going to believe it hadn't been him. I'll kill you. No one knew that Peter and not him had been Secret Keeper, not even Remus - Remus, who'd always been the most honest, the most decent of them. How could they have ever believed it was him who had changed the sides?

And suddenly, he was shaking with laughter and he couldn't stop.

Because they'd been tricked by no other than Peter Pettigrew, because James and Lily were dead and little Harry was all alone because his godfather was already being circled by ministry workers, wands pointed at him. Because suddenly he was the traitor.

It was so convenient to make Sirius the traitor, wasn't it? Because what would You-Know-Who want with a frail, talentless thing like Peter? No, it was so much easier, so much more logical to blame him. Even at school, he had proven to be an outstanding wizard, but also shown a strong love for danger, along with little care for casualties.

In a few weeks, people would state he'd always had a violent side and that, surely, with such evil blood running through his veins, one should not be too surprised he'd turned out just the same.

Black - he even had the perfect name.

He laughed and laughed because the blood of two of his three best friend was drying on his robes.

And he couldn't breathe anymore, his chest felt so tight. There was lead in his stomach and ash in his lungs, but he couldn't stop laughing even as he was disarmed and one of the ministry guys informed him he was arrested for the murder of thirteen people. Going to Azkaban for the rest of his miserable life.

Sirius laughed, and wanted to cry instead, wanted to die instead - James, and Lily, and little Harry all alone... their school friend who had sold them to save his pathetic existence...

He could no longer tell whether it was laughter or sobs suffocating him. Sirius felt like a rabbit being shaken to death in the jaws of a dog.

.

Hands gripped him and he disappared, and when he drew the next hysteric breath, he tasted salt. Sharp, wet rocks bore into the soles of his shoes and waves crushed against the rock somewhere below. Ahead was a huge, triangle-shaped building with a tall barred door. No windows.

The sky was of a stormy grey and something black fluttered in the cold wind.

He was still gasping for air, the manic laughter still shaking him. The weigh on his shoulders grew terribly heavy.

A hooded creature glided towards them, tall and apparently unconnected to the ground. Suddenly, Sirius was kneeling next to his best friend, eyes glazed over with tears. Clutching James's robes and shaking him desperately, Harry's unbearable screams in his ears. He felt his knees giving way, but the ministry guy still held him.

Dementors.

Finally, he understood where he was.

"What about the trial?" Sirius rasped, the words taking all his strength.

"You don't deserve that," the man gave back, his voice full of disgust. The Dementor came even closer and the screaming in his ears grew louder again.

"Show this one to his cell," the ministry worker said to the creature looming over them and shoved Sirius forward. "He'll be staying a while."

Wait, he wanted to shout. Come back. You can't leave me here.

But the only sound that came over his lips was the hysterical laughter that took away his breath. His chest hurt and his head hurt and there was blood on his face and his hands and if only he could just bloody die... like James... like Lily... like Peter...

Come back, I'm innocent.

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