Nyctophobia | pjo x hp

CHAPTER 2

AZKABAN ISLAND
YEAR UNKNOWN

Barty Crouch jnr. often wondered how his life had escalated to this point. He thought about his friends a lot.

He wondered how Pandora was doing, how his little moon was doing. He wondered if his moon shared her mother's passion for plants and potions.

He wondered how his life would have turned out if Evan hadn't been killed. Would they have had their own kids by this point?

He also thought about Dorcas. Dorcas had betrayed them, by joining the Order, yet her death hadn't hurt any less.

And then there was Regulus. He knew Regulus had died. He had known Regulus would die. Pandora had seen it. Dora was never wrong, she saw everything.

Yet she never was able to see Azaleas future.

He remembered the day, their little joy had been born. At first he had been mad at Reggi for keeping his child secret for so long, they hadn't even known Regulus was seeing someone until he showed them his daughter.

After he had gotten over his initial anger, he had been overjoyed. It was as if his life shone in a new light. His sunshine was back.

His heart had skipped a beat when he was told he would be her godfather. Pandora was named godmother.

When she was introduced to his little moon, the two had gotten along perfectly. Little Lea had reached out to Luna, with her sticky little baby's hands. The two had become instant friends.

They had been so different, yet so alike. Little Luna had fair skin and light hair, whereas Lea had a dark complexion and hair.

The sun and the moon.

Pandora had tried reading her future, she had to protect the new addition to the family after all. She was the protector.

She had reached out, hand hovering over her curly locks, concentrated on the threats of gold which tied the future together. She had wrinkled her forehead in concentration, trying and failing to find anything.

In that moment they knew her future wouldn't be happy.

His goddaughter.

How was his little joy doing?

Where was she now? He knew the Potter had died shortly after they had taken her in. Fate wasn't kind to his sunshine. Life wasn't fair.

Had Dumbledore managed to get his dirty hands on her? Was she treated right? Who was raising her? Had Pandora taken her in? Sometimes he swore he heard her voice, calling to him. Yet he was cursed to never be able to understand her.

Barty Crouch Jnr didn't know she had died years ago. Barty Crouch Jnr. was the only one left. He didn't know that.

Sometimes, when the voices got too loud, he thought he had died along with them. He knew he was going insane.

Sirius Orion Black hated the color black. He found the irony of the situation quite amusing. He, the heir to the noble and most ancient house of Black, hated the color black with a passion.

In his youth he had refused the color because he found it amusing how it had made his mother fume with fury. As he got older, he just became used to the bright colors in his woredrobe.

He loved wearing bright crimson red, sunshine yellow and ocean blue. Black had just been to bleak. To normal. To expected.

But now, as he sat with his back against the cold damp wall, staring into the blackness, he thought that back then he may have never disliked the color, but now he truly hated it.

He was sick.

Sick of the food, the cold, the guilt. He knew he was to blame for the death of his brothers.

He had first killed Regulus, leaving him behind, which had forced him to ve appointment as black heir, indirectly forcing him to join the death eaters.

And James. Poor James. He had been to one to suggest switching secret keepers. He had let them to their death. He had been the one to sentence them. He was at fault.

Remus thought he was a monster.
Poor Remus was all alone. He was left without his moon.

And his little star was left behind. Who had Dumbledore left her with?

If he ever got out, Sirius swore he would end the old man himself, if he hadn't died by then that is. Dumbledore knew he was innocent. He had been the one to perform the spell. He knew Peter was the traitor. The dirty little rat he was.

How did one of them not see it coming?
An animagus was supposed to represent the inner most nature of a person. James was a stag, a protector. And Peter had been a rat, a dirty little piece of shit.

Sirius wondered if he would ever get out.
At night he would stare at the moon. And when the moon turned full he swore he swore he heard James voice calling out to him, urging him to continue on.

Sirius knew he was slowly turning insane. He was a black after all. And where a Black went, madness was soon to follow.

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