Fic: Crime
This fic is for the mission_insane fic challenge. The prompt was Crime, #01 from the “Un-themed 7” table.
Title: Crime
Pairing(s): Gen.
Rating: G-8.
Genre: Introspective, smatterings of angst.
Length: 1,086 words.
Disclaimer: Definitely not mine.
Crime
by Naranne
*
“The first time I stole so that I wouldn’t starve, I lost many assumptions about the simple nature of right and wrong.” - Bruce Wayne
*
Sirius Black had always known he was a rule-breaker, but he had never, ever considered himself a law-breaker. (Obviously, this was an opinion that the Minister dearest did not share.) Law-breakers were people like his parents, he’d always thought - those who believed themselves above the law, because of their blood, or their heritage, or Merlin, even their wealth. Those people like the Blacks and the Malfoys who hid in their mansions and donated generously to Ministry causes (so as not to tarnish their name, of course), whilst they gathered Dark artefacts and arranged marriages and devoutly followed Voldemort when he came to power.
Of course, Sirius became a law-breaker in his fifth year. However, revealing to the Ministry that there were three unregistered Animagi running around Hogwarts would have meant revealing Moony, and there had been no way that was happening. They’d thought that the teachers suspected - at the very least, Dumbledore did, and possibly McGonagall. He and James and Remus, though, for all the trouble they caused, were stellar students when it came to their marks, and Sirius privately thought this might have had a lot to do with it. Not to mention that Moony had been a Prefect, and that Dumbledore knew all about his furry little problem.
It was his time in Azkaban that showed to Sirius the full force of the law’s injustice. His perceptions of “law-breaker” and “criminal” changed, and he understood that just because someone was never prosecuted, just because someone never touched the Dark Arts in their life, they could still be a criminal. That was what it was, he’d thought at first - a crime, that he was locked away in that infernal place and Pettigrew walked (or scampered) free. Anger had sustained him for a time, through those long years; anger and his Animagus form, mercifully free from the Dementors’ grasp. It soon occurred to him that there were only two people who knew about his other form, and one of those was assumed dead. The fact that Remus never went to the Ministry made a spark of hope flare up in his tired, battered chest.
It was his time on the run that showed to Sirius the full fallacy of believing staunchly in right and wrong - there was an awful lot of grey area in between, he realised. He lived with a stolen Hippogriff, on stolen meat and bread (what was not begged in dog form), and read voraciously through copies of the Daily Prophet stolen from rubbish bins. He was not in the wrong, of that much he was convinced, although by standard definitions he had by now certainly committed a lot of minor crimes. Buckbeak, for one, was a fugitive - condemned wrongly to death by the combined efforts of a Minister who would see him hunted across London and beyond, and a Malfoy. Running away with him would be perceived as wrong if one held true to the stock standard view, and yet as far as Sirius was concerned, it was the Ministry that had committed the crime in convicting both of them. After all, when it came to Buckbeak, Hagrid was the elegant creature’s rightful owner, not the grave, and he didn’t seem to mind all that much. In fact, by the time the Order had reformed and the half-giant had found out, he’d crushed Sirius to him in a hug that squeezed all of the air from his lungs. Sirius had taken that to mean Hagrid was alright with Beaky’s situation.
And then, of course, there was Harry. Harry reminded him so forcefully of James at times that Sirius’ chest constricted in all too familiar pain - but he also reminded him of himself. Harry reminded him of himself before Azkaban, convinced of the certainty of right and wrong, cruelly destined to find out that reality was far harsher and far, far different. Harry told him of seeing Malfoy consorting with the Minister - Sirius’s lip curled into a half-canine snarl at the man’s mention - and Sirius could see the flicker of doubt behind the boy’s eyes. Harry grew frustrated with his godfather’s plight, and Sirius could see some of his illusions crumbling. Not yet, he wanted to say - please, he’s just a boy - but Harry was stronger than that. There were nights where Sirius stayed awake for hours, pacing and worrying and fuming, until he finally succumbed to Remus’ infernal reasoning and let exhaustion take him away into blissful darkness.
Hermione showed him a film on Muggles in Russia and their struggle to overthrow a cruel regime, and though he was sure Moony had put her up to it, the similarities between the corruption of the Ministry and the corruption of the Muggle regime had struck a chord within him. She told him of how they fought even when it was - by the law - completely criminal, wove a tale of their determination, and with the fire in her eyes that Harry had told him only injustice could light, made him promise never to give in. Remus appeared when she left, squeezing his shoulder familiarly and assuring him that once the Ministry saw the truth of Voldemort’s return and saw Wormtail by his side, the only option they would have left would be to clear his name. Sirius privately thought he was more likely to get hit by lightning, but he didn’t mention this to Moony.
Dolores Umbridge’s hold on Hogwarts grew crueller and tighter, and Sirius was hit by the reality that a woman like her wouldn’t be at all out of place in a Ministry where Voldemort reigned supreme. It reminded him forcibly of the long hours spent fuming over the Ministry and the fallacy of right and wrong, cooped up in a tiny stone cell; Sirius couldn’t help shuddering in anger and remembrance, but at least that time, Moony was there to vehemently agree with him. Moony knew better than most, Sirius was forced to concede - at least if they cleared Sirius’ name, he’d be free to live a normal life. Remus would always have to live with werewolf prejudice hanging over his head. Something, young Hermione Granger swore, that she’d change one day. Neither of them could really find it in them to laugh at S.P.E.W after that particular declaration.
Harry’s strong, Remus told him time and time again. He’ll fight, and so will we. This world is screwed up, Padfoot. But Merlin help me, we’ll fight, and we’ll win. We have to.
Sirius could only hope that he was right.
*
One down, 199 to go. *grin*
Naranne