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Life has always tried to stretch me, but the rope always went slack…
The melody cut through the biting northerly wind whistling down the maze of prison cells. Sirius huddled at the far end of his cell for warmth, but still, he could hardly feel the whistle as it passed his frostbitten lips. Still, he figured it was a cheerier sound than the poor sod next door screaming for his mother.
Jumped bail and landed up in jail…
Sirius could just about remember screaming this line, both hands on Peter’s shoulders as they jumped up and down on an old rickety table. They had both sung it- if it could be called that- their voices hoarse from trying to out-sing the drunken crowd at the pub. That rat had jumped both bail and jail. And Sirius had landed hard in Azkaban.
Oh, it had seemed romantic: running from the law, best friends in tow. Solitary confinement, Sirius had found, was rather lonely by contrast.
The chill in the night worsened as a shadow fell across the cell.
“No,” mumbled Sirius, head between his knees, hands over his ears tangled in his matted hair. This was the first memory he’d had in a long time, he didn’t want to lose it now. He couldn’t lose it now.
“When the world… is too dark... I need the light inside of me…” he struggled, breathless against cold. Padfoot, padfoot, his brain screamed for the safety of the dogs’ mind. The protection of simple thoughts.
Moments later Sirius lay panting on the cell floor in his animagus form.
“I'll walk into a bar, and drink fifteen pints of beer!” shouted Remus at the top of his voice, over and over again. He was glowing, ecstatic, beautiful. And more drunk than any self-respecting prefect should be.
There was more to this memory though: the heat of firewhiskey, the joy of the last day of school, the fear of not knowing what would happen next. And there was James. Black messy hair, lopsided glasses and a grin stretching from ear to ear.
“Because I am going, I am going,” he sung as loud as he could. “Any which way the wind may be blowing.”
Padfoot’s tail began to wag in time with the music.
“I am going, I am going, where streams of whiskey are flowing,” he heard his own voice, only a faint memory, join in.
I am going, I am going.
Padfoot slid out between the rails of his cell.
I am going, I am going, James urged him.
Padfoot ran through the dark cells, to the edge of the icy water. The wind blew in every which direction. Sirius could hardly remember feeling so alive.
I am going, I am going, Remus begged.
I am going, I am going, he assured them both. I am going, I am going.