GOOD DOG || Sirius Black

(Fifty One: The Lion and the Serpent)

"...My name is Maria Fawley."

The first thing I could think to say in response to that was, "You bitch."

For once, I think that sentiment was echoed by Alex, stored away in the little part of my mind that I allowed her access to. I understood how the other girl felt, could sense it creeping around the corners of her weak little walled off space. This was the one room in the house, possibly the one thing left in the world, that was really hers. Even her head was no longer her own. And once again Maria Fawley had wormed her way in and rotted it.

"I know your first thought is not to be enormously well predisposed towards me." The tape player sighed, "I'm not asking you to forgive me, I just want a chance to explain."

Sounds a hell of a lot like asking for forgiveness to me. Alex thought.

The player sighed again, almost like it could hear the girl in my head, "You have to understand, I didn't want for it to go this way. My own daughter, my little Helen. I'm leading her to her death."

"Finally. Someone I can respect." I muttered, mostly for Alex's benefit.

"But I'm not omnipotent." Maria Fawley forged onwards, "I can't control what people do. I can only see the outcomes. There are some things that could never happen. Your brother  would never in a million years stop raving about archaeology, at least to you. That much no one can change."

It was at this point that I realised I was smiling, ever so slightly.

"This situation has so many complications, so many conflicting interests. This was the only way I could see for you to survive this far." Maria continued, "I've put all the pieces in place. You decide what to do from this point onwards. No more interference. No more crazy old dead lady messing about in your life. You're on your own now."

I grinned, "I'm starting to like this person."

Alex was quiet.

"This room," Maria sounded more conversational now, "It's beautiful, isn't it? It tells me something about my granddaughter, I think. It tells me she's someone who wants to make every second more beautiful than it is. When even the faded memory of a child watching a television show can be magical."

"Don't encourage her, old lady." I muttered resentfully.

But Maria wasn't done, "You should know, the Sorting Hat doesn't select houses based off of the traits a person possesses."

"Never mind." I raised my eyebrows, "Please, continue the insults."

"It sorts people on the traits they admire." Maria said this with a tone of significance, "A scared little girl going to a new place with the brother who always made friends and left her behind. You wanted to be brave enough to make your magical moments."

"But I wasn't."

That wasn't my voice. Wasn't mine at all. That voice belonged to someone who should have been caged and sectioned until they learnt to dissolve into nothing.

Alex Fawley was talking.

"Well, how about that?" I felt my mouth move against my own instruction, the buzz of speech that wasn't mine in my throat, "Looks like I'm back."

"Bravery in itself is daring to hope for something better." Maria continued, heedless of our little war, "I want that for you, my dear. I want something better. I'm so sorry I won't meet you. But I'm so proud."

My head turned to look at the tape. It felt like a violation, "Thank you, Grandma Fawley."

I- No, it was Alex now- She moved towards the door, reaching for the handle, but I wrenched her hand back, clinging onto her mind.