Lucky Number 13

Rating: PG-13. Rating may be raised later on for mature content.

Status: First Fic.

Written By: Hetera

Warnings: Blood, gore, violence, and slash in later chapters. Dry humor at most.

Genre: Drama

Summary:

He had been locked away unjustly, framed and convicted for the deaths of thirteen people. He has escaped. Now he is determined to seek revenge upon the ones who put him in prison. All thirteen of them.

Remus Lupin lives in Galeston, a small town several miles away from the prison, working as a waiter in a tidy café. Upon taking the night shift, he serves coffee to an unusual new comer looking for a place to stay. Remus ends up taking him as a roommate. At first he found his new roomy to be alright, even with all the nightly outings. That is, until he comes home one night... covered in blood...

Prologue:
Prisoner 162 Class A

Gray Harbor Prison sat far on England's countryside, miles away from the four small towns that sat on its borders. Gray Harbor, named though no ocean sat next to it, was an Old Irish castle renewed to house at least three hundred prisoners. Once magnificent rooms and draperies had been replaced with bars and new plumbing. Once housing a rich family now housed two hundred and thirty four special prisoners.

You see; Gray Harbor is not a normal prison. It was a mental institution for the criminally insane, for those who have committed outrageous acts- and not being within their right minds. These prisoners were marked with a letter: A, B, C. A being the most dangerous.

Very, very few make A, but there was one who did. Prisoner 162 was housed in the highest tower of the castle, guarded day and night. He committed thirteen murders, twelve of them being the heads of rich families, and the thirteenth was what the doctor that worked with him found the oddest. The thirteenth was a milk farmer.

Sirius Black was an odd one all right; Dr. Jeremy Holland had decided when he heard the story for the first time. Twelve murders, clean and marked with the same slit of the throat. What baffled him (and the authorities that caught him) the most was the very last murder, for the person killed had nothing to do with the rich families: Peter Pettigrew was just a farmer.

The kill was even stranger, as there was blood everywhere; nothing left of the body but a finger. How they connected Black to this murder was that he was there when a constable and several other officers arrived. He was holding a blade, staring at the bloodied chaos... laughing. Later on the authorities confirmed that to be the same blade that killed the other twelve. He was arrested that same night. There was no trial, he was sent straight to Gray Harbor, straight to Jeremy Holland.

For Holland, it was hard to believe that this twenty-one year old young man was insane. Black spoke normally, thought normally, talked about the weather, read the papers, and even played chess. It was a mystery to him that he, or anyone else for the matter, could brutally murder thirteen people. For this is what the doctor was trying to decipher for the passed twelve years.

Jeremy Holland, though still young, worked in Office Class A for fourteen years since graduating from a major university, majoring in the work of the human mind. He studied every prisoner in Gray Harbor, taking a special interest in Black. There was something different about him that set him apart from all the other patients.

Holland made his usual weekly visit to the highest tower, a chessboard under one arm, a clipboard under the other, and a pen behind his right ear. Like all the doctors here, he wore a long white coat over his dress shirt and jumper, and polished black shoes. The walk up the stairs was a long one, but he managed, finally reaching the heavily bolted steel doors.

Two muscled guards stood on either side holding impressive looking guns, staring with identical menacing looks.

"Evening, boys." Holland smiled at them both only to receive grunts.

"Badge?" One asked gruffly.

"Yes, yes. Of course..." Carefully trying not to drop anything, he rummaged in his pocket and pulled out his badge (consisting of a classification A card, work ID, and whatnot.)

Stiffly, one guard unlocked several locks and the other pulled the heavy door open, revealing another set of heavy barred doors. They unlocked those as well and pushed them open, letting Holland through.

"Thank you," he said, this time, receiving no reply. He heard the doors slam shut as he proceeded into the small circular room.

Like all cells, this room consisted of a single table in the center with two chairs across from one another. Dimly lit with florescent lighting, a sink and toilet, both unclean like a public bathroom that no one wants to tidy. A fold up bed made of rusting iron was chained near a single barred window, and a mattress most likely stuffed with straw that smelled of mold sat gloomily on the untrusting metals.

Sitting on the lumpy, mold smelling mattress was Prisoner 162 Class A himself. Sirius Black stared out the barred windows; blankly surveying the blackened clouds of the night sky with kohl colored eyes. Twelve years he had been here in Gray Harbor, and he didn't look a day older than twenty- one. Small changes had occurred, naturally, that his once short hair was now much longer, reaching a bit passed his shoulder blades. His slightly darkened skin was now a ghostly white, and he lost a considerable amount of weight. Not exactly skin-and-bone, just thinner.

"Evening Sirius," Holland said cheerfully though greeting an old friend.

"Dr. Holland," Black nodded, turning away from the window, the doctor getting a good view of his young face.

Holland smiled seating himself at the table, motioning Black over. He complied, seating himself across from him.

"So," Holland began setting up the chessboard letting the other man choose his pieces. "How are you?"

"Dreadfully bored," Black said. "Not that I not always look forward to your visits. No one to speak too, you understand. Those guards don't exactly stop for a chat either."

"Ah," Holland nodded, "lovely weather this passed week, don't you agree?" he changed the subject.

"Gloomy, I'd say. Horribly cloudy." Black said moving his pawn. "But I suppose that's how you'd enjoy it?"

Holland mimicked him. "Not really, but my wife enjoys the rain for some odd reason. My kids can't stand it. Were you married, Sirius? Any children?"

Black carefully moved his knight forward. "No, I never had a girlfriend since high school, I was close to marrying her- but she backed off on the last moment. Telling me she wasn't ready, when she was actually two-timing me." He smiled bitterly watching the doctor's move. "Such snakes, some woman. Gave up on trying since then."

Holland watched as Black took his bishop. "No children then?"

"No. Never really liked kids, I have a godson though."

"Do you?" Holland's knight took one of his pawns.

Black nodded, "My best friend's son, Harry. Haven't seen them in years though. I believe they still live in a small town a few miles from here." He moved his second knight. "They might have moved by now, though."

"Interesting," Holland said picking up his clipboard and taking his pen from behind his ear. He looked at Black with a grim smile. "Please excuse me..."

"Of course. You don't just go around talking to patients for fun," Black shrugged. "It's your job to study us, right?"

Holland blushed slightly with embarrassment, but nodded jotting down a few quick notes. "So," he moved another pawn. "Since we're on the subject of family, tell me about yours. Did you have any siblings?"

"I'm the fifth and youngest out of all my father's sons." Black said seizing the pawn the doctor just moved. "Fifth being I had a lot to live up too. My father had... high expectations for each of us."

"Really? Who were your brothers?" Holland moved his second bishop.

"Leo, Sagittarius, Pegasus, and Orion." Black took the bishop pausing for a moment. "My mother had a thing for stars, so she named us after them." He added.

Holland moved another pawn, "What about your mother and father, Domanicus and Athanon Black?"

"I hated them both." He moved his knight. "Check."

Holland moved his king. "Why?"

"Domanicus for his maddened ways and Athanon for bringing me into that retched family." Black pushed his queen forward. "Checkmate."

Holland blinked and looked at the board, nothing protected his king, a checkmate. "Indeed," he agreed. He cleared away the pieces and jotted down more notes. "You hated your mother and father... enough to say... perhaps... kill?"

Black leant back on his chair, a grim smile on his face. "You know my answer, doctor."

"Do I?" Holland said placing down his pen and clipboard, folding his hands on the table. "The same answer you gave the police when they arrested you, after finding evidence that you killed thirteen people?"

There was a pregnant pause, Holland staring calmly at Black's slouching exterior. His shoulders began to shake, and the doctor had a faint belief of him to be crying.

"Sirius?"

He looked up, a small smile on his thin lips. He wasn't crying- he was laughing. Not an amused laugh, not an insane one. It was bitter and strangely eerie, sending shivers down Holland's spine.

"You want to know, doctor? You want to know everything?" Black leant forward on the table.

"Everything you're willing to tell me," Holland answered truthfully and as calmly as possible.

The smile, though faint, was still there. "Alright, I'll tell you."

There was another pause.

"There's a catch, isn't there?" Holland said finally.

"You know me well, doctor." Black said leaning back once more.

"Go on," Holland said.

"I'll tell you everything you want to know: the reason for those murders, why you only found that farmer's finger, why them. Everything. If," Black paused surveying the doctor. "You get me out of class A."

"That would be impossible," Holland said. "Convincing a council to put you in a lower class. It'd be like trying to convince blood thirsty foxes to eat carrots instead of rabbits."

"It doesn't have to be in class C or another prison," Black said. "I just want another room. It's incredibly cold here at night and sickeningly hot during the days. Just a room on the second floor with a wider window-"he looked at the look on Holland's face. "-Barred of course, and with the same security if it makes you feel any better."

Holland considered this for a moment. Information for a bigger room? It was an odd request, but-

"Perhaps I could pull a few strings," He said finally. "Besides, it's quite a walk from my office to this tower. The second floor," he held out his hand to shake Black's. "Deal then?"

"One more thing doctor," Black said. "When we talk, I want to talk in your office." Holland hesitated so he added quickly, "you can have me in a straight jacket if you wish."

Another moment hesitation, then they shook hands. "Agreed." Holland cleared his throat. "I'll see if I can arrange something for you." He picked up the chessboard and clipboard, tucking his pen behind his ear. "Goodnight Sirius."

He turned to leave knocking harshly through the bars. The guards pushed them open to let him through.

"Goodnight Dr. Holland."

And the doors were shut once more with a deafening clang, the echo of iron and brass locks being set.

Sirius returned to his window, watching the gray of the sky and the beginning of rain.

"Dreadful weather. Just dreadful."

The next morning at Gray Harbor was a gloomy gray, nothing but the occasional peek of the sun through thickened clouds. A fog like mist rested around the grounds making it almost impossible to get to the parking lot. Security guards had to be set out as guides.

Dr. Holland had made it through with little difficulty and was now settling in his office. As was discussed with Sirius Black the previous night, he had managed to get the man a new cell on the second floor near his office. Now he was to speak with him in this very room.

It was like any other office, the stone walls covered with a light blue wallpaper. A single wooden door leading in and out, an oak desk stacked neatly with several papers, clipboards with hundreds of notes and charts. A leather chair sat behind and a wooden chair in front. Behind the leather chair was another wall covered in decrees and other various certificates.

Already settled behind the desk, Holland busied himself with a new prisoner's records that would soon be placed in a class C, when a knock interrupted him.

"Come in," he said looking up from his papers.

One of the guards that stationed in the tower the other night opened it, roughly guiding Sirius Black into the office. As agreed to, he was in a straight jacket.

"Sirius," Holland greeted. "Nice to see you again,"

"Good morning Dr. Holland." He was as calm as usual.

"I'll be outside your door," the guard grunted pushing Black onto the wooden chair and leaving, shutting the door behind him.

"Quite the gentlemen, your guards." Black commented adjusting himself on the chair. "Even took the liberty of fastening the jacket. Lovely job they did, really."

Holland smiled knowing not whether to take it as sarcasm or dry humor. "They just do their job."

"Of course. You have nice..." he looked around the office and spotted something on the right wall, "Swords. Asian swords, samurai correct?"

Holland looked, "Oh yes, my wife is Japanese and believes in something called feung shuei, I forget what the swords represent though. They were made by her grandfather, excellent steel, and still very sharp."

Black eyed the three swords hanging on small racks, topping each other. Dark sheaths with gold and silver embedded into the hilts. The doctor cleared his throat; then he tore his eyes away from them.

"Lets not beat around the bush anymore, eh?" Holland said cheerfully. "Let's get to the chase. About the murders Sirius-"

"Notes." Black said suddenly.

"Excuse me?" Holland blinked.

"Shouldn't you write this down?" He said expressionless.

The doctor laughed, "Of course, how silly. A moment..." he looked around his desk for one of his clipboards. "Now where did I...? A second please." Holland got up from his chair and started looking in his filing cabinet. "Ah, here we go! Sorry about-"he turned around only to see the wooden chair empty.

"What the-?" He walked around the desk to find nothing and to his horror, one of the swords on the wall were gone.

Holland's face went white when he felt something cold press the back of his head.

"If you run or scream, I'll drive this right through your skull." Came Black's voice, cold and menacing. "Turn around. Slowly."

With shuddering breaths, Holland did what he was told coming face to face with the end of his wife's grandfather's samurai sword. Holding the hilt, Black had somehow undid the bindings to the jacket which he now held in his other hand. He tossed it at the doctor.

"Slip it on," Black said unfalteringly, holding the sword with ease. Holland did what he was told and Black fastened the buckles tightly, lowering the sword and pushing the doctor onto his leather chair.

He smiled grimly staring at the shimmering steel. "Excellent cut, just the right size, but much lighter than my old blade. Perfect grip- a fine sword. My compliments to your wife's grandfather."

Holland looked up at Black, "What are you going to do?" he said quietly. "You won't be able to get out of here- the guard knows your face."

"Not if I gut his eyes out," Black said simply.

Holland bit his bottom lip and kept silent.

Black laughed that same eerie laugh. "It was a joke, Dr. Holland. You always told me you had a good sense of humor."

The doctor said nothing.

"You know," Black continued. "I've been thinking. How about we change a bit of the agreement, hm? I give you information and I walk out of here without a worrying about you yelling? Deal?"

Holland was still silent.

Black took that as a yes. "Good," he played with the sword, testing its durability with a good swing, slicing a bit of a bamboo tree by the door cleanly from the pot. "You see doctor, I'm an innocent man. Now don't give me that look," Black said staring at Holland's disbelieving expression. "I was framed. By whom, you ask? Why by Belladonna Beatrice, Donavon Askerlof, Gollando Malfoy-"

"Those people are dead." Holland said, finally speaking. "You were charged with their murders."

"Wrong." Black said turning the sword on him again with a fiery rage. Holland shut his mouth. "I may have been charged, but those people are alive. Alive and well, and Domanicus is hiding them. All thirteen of them."

Holland swallowed the lump in his throat, trying to keep his calm. "Your father? Wasn't he the one who tried to get you a trial-"

"Wrong again," Black snorted pulling back the sword. "He paid the council not give me a trial. You see he hates me, and this is his sick way to punish me- to teach me a lesson. All because I wanted out. Well now it's my turn."

Holland let these knew revelations sink in before asking, "Out of what?"

He smiled grimly, "Look up the Old Rumors, you'll know."

The doctor raised an eyebrow at that. The "Old Rumors"? He swallowed, was it the rumors about the Black family?

"What about Peter Pettigrew?" Holland asked, suddenly remembering the farmer's death.

"Was once a friend of mine," Black said coldly. "Until my father paid him to fake his own death, to send me here. I always knew Peter was a dirty old rat. Looking after his own hide, afraid to refuse my father. It was my own stupidity to confront him, planned on killing him myself." He shook his head.

"You know, Sirius." Holland said after a brief moment of thought. "I never thought I'd say this... you're insane."

"You think so?" Black said smiling bitterly. He leant forward so he was eye level with the doctor. "Well, I suppose you would think so after all this." He whispered. "but I assure you, I'm not crazy. I just want revenge, Dr. Holland. You see, I don't want to be in prison for murders I didn't commit. So I might as well make it official for the records." He backed up, standing straight.

"Aren't you going to kill me?" Holland asked suddenly as Black reached the door.

He paused, looking over his shoulder.

"I know too much, don't I?" Holland said quietly.

Black chuckled grimly, "No, just enough. I'm keeping you alive for three reasons: one of them being you have a wife and child, they can't miss daddy. Second is that you aren't on my death list, Dr. Holland. I respect you a great deal, and I thank you for those wonderful chess games. Finally, everything I told you, you can tell to the authorities. They'll want to know all that's happened." He turned around fully. "And one last thing, doctor." He rose the sword to Holland's stomach, slicing one of the buckles. "To help you get out of that thing."

Black was at the door once more turning the brass knob. "Remember, if you scream, I will kill you." He added as an afterthought.

Holland kept silent.

The door was opened and the guard stepped into view, "Doctor? What the-?!" he never had a chance to finish his sentence. The guard fell heavily to the floor, heavy amounts of blood spilling from his newly slashed throat, creating a tiny pool at Black's feet.

Holland watched as Black stepped over the body and started down the corridor.

Strapped in straight jacket with a broken buckle, Holland some how pulled the formidable material apart to free himself. He reached an arm under his desk and pressed the alarm, his aura of calm still in tact. For some reason, he didn't panic during that situation. He didn't find it necessary. Was it because he knew Black wasn't going to kill him? Was it because he was truly afraid and couldn't bring himself to scream? Or was it because... he knew Black was innocent?

Holland couldn't explain to the inspector when they arrived how Black escaped, just that he killed the guard and left. He didn't tell the authorities Black's story, either, feeling it unnecessary at the time.

When he was told he could leave, he had to take a ride with a friend because his car was missing. As were his keys.

()()()()()()()

Ta da! The prologue's done! - YAY! I know this doesn't answer a lot of questions, but as we go along more answers will be revealed! Like why did Sirius's father pay Peter to fake his death? Was he really framed? If so, will he get his revenge? Will the authoress ever get to the slashy goodness?!

Give me lots of nice reviews, and we'll see. -

With Love,

Hetera

Ps: Oh, I hope I did alright... Was the imagery okay? What about the descripition? Did it even make sense?! Oh, I hope so... please don't flame, I tried super hard!!! Nice reviews, please? ;;