It was unfortunate but true—there were far too many similarities between Azkaban and 12 Grimmauld Place.
Of course, many would consider such a statement maudlin at best and outright farcical at worst. After all, how could a house—admittedly a run-down, gloomy mansion straight from a Muggle horror movie—be the equal of the most feared wizarding prison in the world, one which few, if any, were known to leave with their lives, much less their sanity, intact? For instance, while an inmate at Azkaban could expect no more than a small, dank, dirty, and cheerless cell, Grimmauld Place was at least spacious, with three levels, all of which were available to a tired and bored occupant.
But therein lay the similarities once again, as the accessible space in which to wander was no cheerier than the cell back in the prison had been, decorated as it was by dark, peeling wallpaper, a row of severed elf heads, and gloomy, threadbare furnishings, among other decorations, all equally cheery and attractive. And whereas the prison of Azkaban boasted some of the vilest creatures to ever roam the earth, the great house at Grimmauld Place boasted its own version of evil and horror: a house-elf who wandered around the house muttering about Blood Traitors, Mudbloods, and filthy, nasty masters and a painting of a dead, bitter old madwoman who berated everyone who didn't live down to her low standards. In a word: everyone.
It was an uncharitable thought about his mother, perhaps, but Sirius Black was nothing if not honest, and his life experiences had jaded him beyond the point of making meaningless excuses for his less than worthy relatives, even before his extended sojourn in Azkaban. His whole family, while most had not been Death Eaters, had certainly held similar beliefs with Voldemort and his merry band of crazies and had, as a whole, been about as pleasant as a nest of hungry acromantulas—and almost as personable too. Unfortunately, the décor in their main domicile had matched the family attitudes quite nicely—it had not been a cheery place growing up, especially for one who by inclination had never espoused the same ideals as his family.
The sun was setting in the west, illuminating the walls of the room in the softest pastels—yellows, oranges, and pinks, all mixed together, creating a brighter atmosphere in the old house than it would ever see at any other time of day. The room was large, and like the rest of the old house, the furnishings tatty. The wallpaper, where it had not completely worn down to the wall behind, was faded and gray, not that even whole it would have inspired any more than a glance and a shudder. But this room did have one redeeming feature—it was the home of his one faithful companion, Buckbeak, the hippogriff who was as highly sought after as Sirius himself.
Sighing, Sirius patted the sleeping hippogriff on the head and leaned back in his chair. He had never liked this house and could not remember having spent more than a few moments in his mother's room as a youngster. Even then, from what he could remember of his few times in this room, the room had been decaying, much as the rest of the house—falling into ashes as the proud history of his family crumbled along with it. At one time, the Blacks had been among the most respected and influential families in all of wizarding Britain. The changes in their family fortunes did not happen overnight, but although he was aware many of his family would have disagreed, to Sirius it was obvious that the decision of his ancestor Antares Black to support the dark forces began their decline. For more than four centuries, the Blacks had made a point of living up to their dark name, causing their former power to be sapped as the family died supporting lost causes and evil Pureblood agendas. Now, he was the last of the once strong family to bear the name—of his three cousins, one had been disowned, and all had married others and now bore different names.
And although he did not like to admit it, he was also painfully aware that centuries of inbreeding had contributed to the downfall. Just one example was his mother, whose maiden name had been Black—she had been a cousin of his father, Orion. There were far too many instances of such matches in his family tree, and Sirius had been desperate since he had understood the ramifications of such close marriages to avoid the same. Breaking the cycle of dark leanings and inbred marriages would, he hoped, change his family's fortunes and give his children a happier growing environment than the one to which he had been subjected.
Sirius snorted bitterly, causing his faithful companion to open one baleful eye in reproach before closing it and snuggling contentedly down into the mattress once again. The antics of his companion went largely unnoticed as Sirius stared at the walls of his mother's chamber, a tear slipping silently down his cheek in regret for the path his life had taken. There had been so much promise, so much to look forward to, now all turned to ashes.
He remembered the dreams of a group of teenage boys, dreams which now did not have a hope of coming true. Their sons (of course, the Marauders would all have first-born sons) would play together, eventually taking Hogwarts by storm, carrying on their fathers' tradition of pranks, mischief, and enmity with the hated Slytherins. Their families would grow closer and closer, forming a powerful force in the wizarding world, promoting change and equality for all, making their world a better place.
And where were they all now? Pettigrew, a traitor, betraying Sirius's best friend to his most hated enemy; Remus, growing old before his time due to his affliction and the life he had lived; Sirius, having spent most of his adult life in the worst hell on earth for the crimes of another; and James, now dead these fourteen years… all lost, ashes like all of their dreams for the future.
James—Merlin, how he missed James! The Marauders had been close in their mischief and adventures, although Peter had always been somewhat of an outsider even then, but Sirius and James had been like brothers, certainly closer than Sirius had ever been to his own brother.
A rare smile lighting his features, Sirius thought back to the day he had first met James. As a young boy of eleven, Sirius had been frightened at the prospect of going out into the world, but paradoxically, had been equally frightened at the thought of remaining in the decrepit old house which had been his home. Not knowing much beyond the world his parents had weaved for him, the only thing the young Sirius had known for certain was that the vitriolic Pureblood dogma, spouted so often by his mother, had somehow never sat well with him, although he certainly could not have claimed to have much experience beyond the confines of his home, his parents' circle of friends, and the few playmates he had had from among the children of his parents' friends.
Enter James Potter, one who Sirius knew immediately was a political enemy of his family, and Sirius could not help but be immediately charmed by his newfound friend's self-confidence and disarming charisma. Even at a young age, James had had a presence about him, much the same as his son had evinced many years later, Sirius decided after some reflection. They had become instant friends on that train to Hogwarts, and by the time they had reached the hallowed halls of the ancient institution, Sirius had known what his life had been missing amongst the conniving and hate-filled halls of his former house.
The Sorting Hat had certainly picked up on Sirius's strongest characteristic, as he was soon to find out, for it took a substantial measure of bravery to go against Lady Walburga Black. Not only had Sirius become the only member of the Black family other than his Aunt Andromeda to be sorted into a house other than Slytherin (even his great-aunt Dorea, who had defied her parents and married a Potter, had been a Slytherin), but even Andromeda had not had the audacity to be sorted into the much-hated house of Gryffindor alongside the aforementioned Potters, Blood Traitors, and enemies to the house of Black for centuries. Within days of the event, word had made its way back to his mother, who had responded with a steady stream of Howlers and diatribe-filled letters and communiqués to the Headmaster that he had made a mistake. His parents had even undertaken a journey by Floo to Hogwarts, demanding the Headmaster repeat the Sorting so their eldest could be removed from the "house of Blood Traitors" and placed back into the place for all "proper Pureblood wizards". Her anger and spite upon Dumbledore refusing her demand had been loud and long, but to the relief of the young boy, the Headmaster had stood firm, stating the Sorting Hat's decision was final, unless other factors made a student's position within a house untenable. Such was not the case in this situation.
Swearing her son was betraying the family, his mother was forced to retreat from the school in defeat, but not before informing Sirius, in a loud and wrathful manner, he was not allowed to return home for Christmas.
"You may stay in the house of traitors and cowards, if it means so much to you, but in my house, you are not welcome."
To that very day, Sirius was able to recall the exact words of her denunciation, the crazed look in her eyes, the spittle which flew from her foam-flecked lips, and the cold, austere stare his father had fixed upon him as he looked on with disdain.
Sirius chuckled, remembering his mother had always been the spokesperson of the family, while his father had always looked on in disapproving silence. In fact, his father, a dour, gaunt sort of man, had rarely, in Sirius's memory, spoken up or distinguished himself in any sort of manner. Sirius was uncertain whether this was by choice or by necessity, but he suspected his father had been a rather notable example of the perils of inbreeding. There simply was nothing remarkable or of note to remember him by.
As a result, cut adrift from his family, the young Sirius would have been lost were it not for his new friendship with young James Potter. Quickly figuring out the problem, James had immediately sent a message off to his father, receiving a response the next day, complete with an invitation to join the Potter family for Christmas. From that day forward, they were inseparable, becoming the brothers in spirit which James never had and sharing a closeness Sirius had never experienced with his own brother, Regulus.
Of course, Lord Potter had been a little distant and more difficult to get to know than his son, hardly surprising since the elderly man had lived with enmity with the Black family his whole life. But once Sirius had come to know the man, he had become almost like a surrogate father for a young boy in need of someone to look up to. In a way, James's father was as responsible for the man Sirius had become as was James himself—and certainly more than his father or any others of his family could be credited, even if they did want to take credit, considering the fact that Sirius had essentially turned his back on centuries of family political and philosophical leanings. Although he was called back to his parents' home on occasion over the years (generally in an attempt to persuade him of the "error of his ways"), from that point forward, Sirius spent much of his time with James's family, finally being disowned by his own at the age of sixteen. His father had died only a year after he completed Hogwarts, his mother following five years later. Although he had been disowned by his mother, it was supreme irony that his father had never made it official, perhaps realizing his brother Regulus was likely not destined for a long life as a minion of the Dark Lord (prophetic in hindsight). And with his incarceration being illegal due to his never having been convicted of any crime, Sirius retained his rights as Lord Black upon his father's death, regardless of his time in prison, whereas if his father had made his banishment from the family official, then Draco Malfoy, as the nearest relation to his father, would have assumed the title of Lord Black, greatly enhancing the rich, yet relatively new, family's fortunes and prestige.
The portrait of his mother now hung in the entrance hall to the old house, convincing Sirius it had been placed there to torture him and him alone. The first time he had ventured into the house after his escape from Azkaban, his mother had praised him for finally "seeing the light" and betraying those awful Potters to his rightful lord, her malicious and contemptible visage fairly glowing with glee at the demise of Sirius's closest friend. He swore his ears still rang with the shrieks his mother had made when he had told her, contempt dripping from his voice, that he had not betrayed his friends and certainly considered the monster to whom she so freely gave praise the lowest form of scum to be found. Only the memory of her wrath could bring a smile to his lips, as he finally gave the hateful old woman a dressing down he had longed to give during her lifetime.
As amusing as it was to bait his mother, Sirius found that today his mind could not stay focused, and once again his thoughts drifted back to his lost friend, and the melancholy which had become his constant companion once again settled into his soul. The death of James had left a hole which still felt like a gaping wound, even now, more than thirteen years later. He had hoped to begin healing the damage through a relationship with James's son—his godson—once his name had been cleared and he could take up his duties as Harry's godfather, but once again things had gone sour.
Sirius cursed loudly at his mistake—if only he'd thought to keep Pettigrew bound and unconscious until he had been safely handed over to the proper authorities, ensuring that the rat would finally reap his rewards for his nefarious deeds, then things would have turned out very different. With the rat being proven to be alive, Sirius was certain Wizengamot would finally have been forced to grant his long-delayed trial and the travesty of justice would finally have been overturned under the effects of Veritaserum. Then, he could have been granted custody of the young man and begun the task of improving his life, finally fulfilling the vow he had made to James as a young man to watch over and protect his young son. The whispers in the back of his consciousness, that he had been in no shape at the time to be responsible for a teenage boy, he conveniently pushed back to the recesses of his mind to be ignored.
No, instead the rat had fled and Sirius had been forced to continue in this half existence, hiding, skulking, avoiding the authorities as the most hunted man in magical Britain, wishing desperately he had some way to be useful, not only to Harry, but also in the fight to oppose Voldemort. His forced exile was seriously beginning to grate against his nerves, which had already battered by years of Dementor exposure.
The first months of his freedom had been trying, but he had made it through, intent on the need to protect his godson and bring the traitor Pettigrew to justice. Although the second goal had been unsuccessful, Harry's safety was by far the most important consideration, and Sirius had been persuaded by Dumbledore to go to a safelocations so he could begin to heal. His sojourn in the South Pacific had been restful and soothing, but his subsequent return to Britain due to Harry's inclusion in the Tri-Wizard Tournament had put him back on the run. Unable to bear being far away from Harry during his trials in the tournament, Sirius had decided to resume his Animagus form again. He had hidden out in a cave in the nearby mountains, near enough to Harry to be of use if necessary, hoping his nearby presence would give the boy a sense of confidence in the damnable tournament if nothing else. Between trying to be there for Harry, and trips back to Grimmauld to look through some of James's old papers, trying to find some way to improve Harry's life and assume his role of guardian, even if unknown to the general populace, Sirius had at least been busy enough that his own problems had become secondary, and therefore, largely forgotten.
However, once that had all been resolved, it had been back to Grimmauld Place, and this time, there was no escape from the disgusting old house; although he would cheerfully have gone back to the South Pacific and sat on the beach, Dumbledore had cautioned against it. Now that Voldemort had returned, even though the official line from Fudge was that his return was impossible, the Ministry was on the lookout for him leaving the country. That—and the fact that they had stepped up the search for him within the confines of Britain itself—meant Grimmauld had now effectively become his prison, much as Azkaban had been before it.
The worst part of his situation was the feeling of uselessness, which pervaded his entire being. He wanted—he needed to be of use to his godson. His promise to James upon the birth of the little sprog remained unfulfilled, wrecked by his impulsive decision to pursue Wormtail instead of caring for Harry as was his duty. He had no way of knowing if he still would have been thrown into Azkaban without trial for betraying James and Lily, but at the very least he would have been more coherent when the questioners came rather than standing dazed in the middle of a war zone, slapped in manacles, and carted off before he was aware of what was happening. He had failed Harry once, but he was determined the experience would not be repeated.
Harry—a part of him was amazed they had become as close as they had in so short a time. The adventure at the end of Harry's third year had forged a bond between them which could only be possible under the most stressful of situations, and the limited time they had been in one another's company had only served to strengthen it. Looking at his godson, Sirius could only be astonished at the resemblance he showed to his parents. He had traces of Lily in him—the eyes, which everyone commented on, being the most obvious—but otherwise, he was his father's son. Give him the brown eyes of his father, and Sirius would have been hard pressed to tell them apart.
In temperament, though, Harry was much more like his mother than his father. Lily had been introspective and studious, quiet until provoked, and then like a hurricane—tempestuous in her fury, but quickly calming once that fury had been spent. And although Harry was not as confident as his mother, his quiet and introverted nature was eerily similar to the woman Sirius had known. James, by contrast, had been brash and self-assured, even as a boy of eleven, likely to get into mischief, as his career as a Marauder later attested to, and to be honest, somewhat of a bully until age and experience had tempered his youthful exuberance. In other words, nothing like his quiet son, although Sirius suspected Harry's experiences with his relatives were a major cause of his demeanor. The mere thought of those horrid Dursleys caused Sirius's fists to clench in rage. If he had anything to do with it, Harry's removal from that house at the end of this summer would be his last.
Knowing his anger would not solve anything, Sirius forced himself to calm down, and his thoughts to return to his former musings. The other major player in both Lily and James's life was a certain dark and broody potions master. Sirius knew that much of James's problems with Snape—and what had occurred after—were in a large part due to their differences in temperament and their reactions to each other. Snape had immediately dismissed James as an arrogant Pureblood (Sirius had be to be honest and acknowledge the charge was to a certain extent true), while James had responded in kind, calling Snape a "greasy git" and an antisocial loner (in this sense, James had been completely correct). The two had struck sparks immediately, and the enmity between Slytherin and Gryffindor had certainly not helped.
If it had not been for Lily—who knew Snape before coming to Hogwarts—there likely would have been nothing more than a simple dislike between the two young men rather than the full-blown rivalry and hatred which eventually blossomed. Although Lily had been initially repulsed by James's manners and arrogance, he had quickly caught on to her displeasure and changed some things about himself, not only to impress Lily, but also—as he told Sirius several times—because it was the right thing to do, in order to improve himself. It was then that the man James was to become was truly unleashed, as he became more studious, more tolerant to others, and more at peace with who he truly was. He became and a better friend than ever—as true a leader as Sirius had ever seen.
This, of course, had the effect of improving his relationship with Lily to the point that by their fourth year the two had become almost inseparable, and Lily, although she was too studious and rule-oriented to ever actively participate in their mischief, became an unofficial member of their group, and in the process drew almost as close to James's friends as James himself. Sirius had even harbored a crush for the beautiful young witch for some time, but knowing how close Lily and James were—and suspecting there would never be anyone in her life to match James—he decided early on he would not invite the heartache of unrequited love. Instead, he had decided to control his feelings and be happy for them. Anything else, he suspected, would have driven a wedge between him and his closest friend, causing rivalry and bitterness, and likely dissolving their friendship.
Unfortunately, a direct consequence of James's improved relationship with Lily was her distance and eventual estrangement from her childhood friend. To say Snape was unhappy with the closeness between his closest friend and his greatest enemy would be a gross understatement, and the two had had many disagreements and outright fights over the matter. What Sirius had feared would happen between him and James had actually happened between Lily and Snape, to the point that by the middle of their fifth year the two former friends would not even acknowledge one another, let alone speak to each other. It was obvious Snape had blamed James for the loss of his friend (some cynical members of their group had insisted Lily had been Snape's only friend), increasing his bitterness and hostility.
Without a doubt, this had led to an escalation to the rivalry between the two antagonists, and Snape's openly hostile and vindictive behavior toward James had been actively reciprocated by the Marauders. It had finally come to a head when their sixth-year Defense professor had had the bad judgment only weeks into the term to pair them off for a dueling exercise in class. Unsurprisingly, insults had been thrown back and forth, unsuitable hexes and curses had been exchanged, and the encounter had degenerated into an all-out war between the two, the final result of which was that they had both landed in the hospital wing. Dumbledore had then stepped in, taking both Snape and James aside and informing them in no uncertain terms that their bitter rivalry had no place within the halls of Hogwarts—any further action between the two would result in significant repercussions, not excluding expulsion from school.