Sirius Fucked Up
Chapter Two
“He’s a killer,”
“I believe I made myself quite clear, Minister,” Minerva McGonagall has taught Cornelius Fudge, she knew him and taught and housed him for eight years. She feels no intimidation for a boy who wept openly when he missed lunch. “I will speak with Sirius Black, with or without your permission.”
“And how do you plan to do as such without my permission, Professor?” snaps Cornelius.
Minerva says nothing, digs her nails into the armrests of the chair she’s been seated in and raises an eyebrow. This, seems to be enough as she watches Cornelius’ shoulders drop.
“He’s a killer, Professor, a cold hearted—”
“He was my student first, long before he was ever a killer or a traitor.” Minerva says patiently, “I have unfinished business with him, and I will see to it.”
They stare one another down before Cornelius finally nods with a sigh.
“Fine, fine! But I take no responsibility—”
“Of course not, Cornelius, I would never expect so.” Sighs Minerva, waving a hand, “How soon may I speak to him?”
“Within the next month or so I presume—”
“I’ll need it to be sooner than that,” she says, “Will today do? In an hour?”
“Today?! An hour?!”
“Yes, that’s what I said. My business is urgent and needs to be seen to urgently. I will be at Azkaban prison in exactly one hour to speak to Mr Black.”
“That won’t—”
“An hour.” She says, getting to her feet and striding out of the room.
Azkaban prison is somehow worse than Minerva had ever thought it could be.
The second she steps out of the floo she feels her entire body go cold, and suddenly all of her grief is back and stronger than she thought is ever could be. She has to blink several times and clutch her handbag for a moment before she finds she’s capable of breathing again.
“Professor,” greets a voice and she turns to be faced with Charles Knightly, one of the few human souls who dared to work at Azkaban.
“Mr Knightly,” she greets.
“I can’t say you’ll get used to the cold,” smiles the man, blonde hair patchy in places and bundled in multiple sweaters, “but try your best to think of good things.”
“I have no idea how you manage this place,” Minerva near whispers, clutching her handbag as Charles begins to lead her through the intricate halls.
“Neither do I, most days,” Charles grins, and for a man in such a gruesome place he smiles a lot, “I find that only a certain number of people can handle this place. Helps if you’re good at ignoring your problems,”
Minerva snorts as they come to a door.
“I’ll be right outside the entire time.” Says Charles kindly, “You need anything, cough twice. He attacks, scream.”
Minerva doesn’t argue with him, doesn’t say ‘Sirius would never-‘ because she doesn’t know. This isn’t the boy she knew.
Charles opens the cell door, “Oi, up you get—move it, into the corner. Stay there.”
He opens the door wider, to allow Minerva inside and she steps past the door and Charles, who closes the door behind her with a sharp clang. The cell is worse than she thought it could be, dirty and grimy, spiders hang from the ceiling and the only piece of comfort seems to be a pile of blankets tucked into the corner, where Sirius Black is sat, with his head down and knees up to his chest. His once long, always neatly brushed hair now a mess of tangles and dirt.
There’s a pause where Minerve finds she can barely breath at the sight of Sirius, of her student sitting there looking like a marionette with it’s strings cut. Slowly, as though it pains him, Sirius raises his head.
“Professor?” Sirius’ voice comes out like a croak, unused and broken.
“Oh, Sirius,” Minerva doesn’t know what it is, the emotion that breaks into her voice. Makes it crack and tears well in her eyes.
“What are you doing here?” Sirius asks, eyebrows furrowing as he stares at her. His beard has grown out into a mess of tangles and matts.
“I—” Minerva takes a steadying breath, “I need you to tell me what happened that night.”
Sirius’ gaze sharpens, he looks every bit a killer in that moment. Sharp grey eyes boring into her, lips downturned into a displeased frown.
“I killed them,” he sneers, “is that what you want to hear? I fucked up and now Lily and James are dead—“
“You fucked up?” Minerva raises an eyebrow.
Sirius huffs, “Never thought I’d hear you swear, professor,”
“That’s not what you said, you said you fucked up.” Minerva says, pushing past Sirius’ attempt to distract her, “what do you mean by that, Sirius?”
There’s a long, horrible pause as Sirius looks like a fish out of water. Mouth opening and closing frantically.
“I—” Sirius croaks, “I fucked up, Professor.”
“How?” pushes Minerva, stepping closer and Sirius blinks, pushes back against the wall.
“I—” Sirius gasps like he’s been hit, “I told them to make Peter the Secret Keeper. I was too obvious, everyone would know it was me and if—if they threatened Remus or they—“
“You couldn’t guarantee their safety.”
He shakes his head sadly, “I pushed for them to make Peter their Secret Keeper and Dumbledore agreed—I thought—I didn’t think he’d betray us. I never thought—”
Sirius breaks into tears, horrible strangled sobs as the tears streak through the dirt caked onto his face.
“But Peter’s dead, you killed him, along with multiple muggles.”
“No I didn’t,” hisses Sirius, “I realised it was Peter and I went after him and he cornered me—I let the rat corner me and he cut off his own finger to make it look like I bloody killed him,”
“Why haven’t you told anyone?” asks Minerva, and Sirius shrugs forlornly.
“Who would believe me?” he asks sadly, “All the evidence points to me, the only thing is my word against a whole lot of evidence. And, anyway I did this,” Sirius sighs, pulling his legs back up against his chest, “this is all my fault in the end, Professor,”
He tucks himself deeper into the corner of his cell, looking so much smaller than Minerva had ever seen him. It’s in that moment, as Sirius tucks himself under his arm, pulling at his hair frantically that she knows she’s right.
She can’t stop herself then, from lurching forward. She drops her handbag to the ground and wraps her arms around Sirius’ shoulders, pulling him tightly against her chest.
“I believe you, Sirius,” she whispers, “And I will get you out of here, I swear it.”
There’s a pause where Sirius sits stiff in her arms and then he breaks down into tears. Heart breaking, heaving sobs she’s never once heard from him. Minerva shushes him, runs a hand over his hair as she’s sure it will only get caught in the tangles if she attempts to run her hands through it. Does her best to comfort him.
“I cannot stay,” she tells him gently, “I’m so sorry Sirius.”
“It’s alright Professor,” lies Sirius and she knows it’s a lie, deep in her heart, “It’s okay.”
Minerva sighs, gathers her handbag and knocks twice on the cell door.