The Lost Wolf (a Harry Potter Fanfiction)

Street Spirit

Sirius Black had always been a brave man.

He was brave after the Sorting Ceremony, when he held the suspicious glares of his new, oh-so-Gryffindor housemates.

He was brave when, just a few hours afterwards, he had to listen to his mother's angry screeches resounding in a stunned Great Hall.

He was brave when he decided to swallow his pureblood pride and started talking with Remus Lupin, a shy half-blood bookworm of his same year.

He was brave every time he came home for the summer and had to bear any kind of torture his mother thought of.

He was brave when, after a particular hard punishment, he still managed to limp into little Reggie's room and try to talk to him about how wrong were Voldemort's "ideals".

Sirius Black remembered that a famous Muggle once said:

"I learned that courage was not the absence of fear, but the triumph over it. The brave man is not he who does not feel afraid, but he who conquers that fear." *

That was probably true, because, at the moment, Sirius Black was utterly terrified.

He had spent twelve long years in a tiny, cold and dark cell, surrounded by Dementors. Slowly, but persistently, those awful creatures had sucked every inch of happiness Sirius' heart could contain: his friends, his school days, little Harry... All the best memories the dark-haired man had were gone long ago, while the worst ones haunted him day and night. He didn't know how to sleep anymore, his brain was far too weak to win over the pained voices of the Potters and Remus. They called him, pleaded him to help them, stay with them. Yet, he couldn't. Lily and James where dead, gone. Remus... He was dead too, probably. Killed by loneliness and by his moonlight alter ego.

There were nights - or days, he had given up trying to distinguish the two after a few weeks - when Black could hear Harry's wails too. Little Harry... he had been Sirius' rock when everything was falling apart. In that cell, however, his voice could nothing but bring more anguish and guilt into the older man's heart.

I am innocent.

Those three words had been his mantra for twelve long years, yet he couldn't help but feeling a terrible sense of guilt lacerating his heart. He was innocent, yes. But he had killed them all anyway.

There were nights when another memory haunted him. It was a bad one, of course, but not as much as the others.

Cassandra.

A little angel with ice green eyes and dark blond locks. She was lost. People said she was dead, killed by the Death Eaters who had kidnapped her on that awful April morning. The Marauders, however, never stopped looking for her. After James went into hiding and Remus was almost forced into joining Greyback's pack for information, Sirius kept searching her in the magical world. He asked Pettigrew to help him.

"Please, Pete. I know you are busy being Prong's Secret Keeper and all, but we can't abandon her!"

"Padfoot... look... Have you ever considered the idea that she could be actually d.."

"NO! She. Is. Alive. And alone. And frightened. She needs us to find her, Wormtail! I know you never liked her much, but for God's sake, she is a baby! Our little Maraudrette! Even if you think she's d..d-dead, please, please help me! Do that for me. Do that for Remus!"

"Remus is... R-Remus is a traitor, Sirius. Everybody knows that. Y-you can't ask me to help a b-bloody t-traitor"

"Please, Pete. I beg you. I will not rest until I find her... alive or.. or dead".