The Ever Secret Diary of Sirius Black

Chapter 24: Bloody Sixth Year

Disclaimer: Dude, I owneth nothing.

Author's Note: At some point when I was writing I realized I had deviated from Remus' point of view, because really, Remus is experiencing watching Sirius' memories… naturally he wouldn't hear his thoughts, a flaw of mine, but heck, I'm human. This is the last chapter. I'm summing up some developments and kick starting year 7. I've loved writing this, I've loved all my readers, but the time has come my little friends to talk of other things, of snitches with legs and some with wings, of blacks good, bad, and in-between…

Message me any time, I love my readers and check out my original fiction with characters just as sexy and snarky, if I do say so myself.

All my love,

Amalynne

Chapter 24: Bloody Sixth Year

There was a letter taped crudely onto the following date in Sirius' diary as Remus listened to the splattering rain, beating angrily against the roof so that Buckbeat sputtered feathers every few minutes, disquieted by the lingering storm. The tape-secured note had yellowed terribly; the parchment folded two or three times over, creased and smudged with wear, the script long and jagged, the ink blotched and faded so that it was just barely legible. Remus brought the diary against his nose so he could decipher the clearly prized chicken scratch…

Sirius,

From this day forth, you and all those in your allegiance have deigned yourself to death. You will be hunted, cast out as foes among parasitic bath of mudbloods. You have been denounced of your blood and bathed in the slop of banal mortality. Never consider yourself safe and never consider yourself Black.

-Father

Remus wasn't sure what to think as he ran his fingers over the date scribbled just below the daunting letter, jolted forward in a swirling blur…

March 21st, 6th Year:

It was a blustery freezing rain that pounded through the exposed pockets of roof in the Owlery, the weather no more pleasant in Sirius' memory than outside it. It could have been afternoon or early morning, it was difficult to tell what with the wretched downpour as James and Sirius stood gazing over a small rain splattered piece of parchment, a crimson sealing ribbon clutched in Sirius' hand at his side.

"Banal morality?" James read back, his dark brows quirked in amusement, "got a thing for poetry doesn't he?"

James' tone was light but his expression waned as he read Sirius' countenance, a sickly intensity, drawing the color out of his cheeks.

"Mate?" he cued him, cocking his head to the side.

Sirius was a statue, his hands flexing briefly as if to crumple the letter, but perhaps thought better of it. Instead, with a strained sigh, puffing a cloud of freezing breath, he folded the letter into careful fourths before placing it with reverent care in his pocket. This was unnatural, clearly James thought so, his face revealed a sort of contorted bewilderment as he blinked after Sirius who had started a suspiciously calm gait out of the Owlery.

James was quick to catch up with him, calling out with confusion, "Mate, honestly, what do you make of it?"

Sirius released a sigh through his nostrils, glancing at James briefly. "I think I'm going to need to take Alphard up on his offer," he answered with a kind of curtness that hinted Sirius might prefer to be alone.

"You're always welcome 'chez moi,'" James smiled too brightly, unable to grapple with this oh so serious Sirius.

"You read the letter," Sirius stopped in his tracks, just before the lower staircase, "you'd be implicated, your mum, your dad, even your ugly corgie, I'll get my own place, James." There was a coolness in the way he had said his name that startled Prongs.