The Not-So-Secret Diary of Bethan Black

Sirius woke to the noise of curtains being dragging reluctantly open and bright daylight flooding his closed eyelids, turning his vision orange.

"Morning," said his friend cheerfully. "Hungry?"

Sitting up, Sirius grunted an affirmative and pushed the knotted hair out of his eyes.

"Good. Breakfast first, and then a bath, haircut and a shave, I think." Remus indicated the small table which had been moved to the centre of the room and piled high with clean robes and towels, scissors, a razor and soap, and something white and partly concealed that looked suspiciously like underwear.

Sirius ran his fingers over the folded robes, they looked brand new and the material felt expensive.

"Hogwarts paid you well then, Prof?" he grinned. "You been treating yourself?"

The Professor's cheery smile dropped slowly. "Not exactly," he said quietly, and thrust a hot bowl of porridge to his house guest as a diversion from further questioning.

When Sirius was occupied with breakfast, Remus looked at his watch and clapped his hands together in a very business-like fashion.

"Right. I'm off to Fletcher's - he's expecting me. I've spoken to Dumbledore about Arabella; she's...um...unavailable right now, but he's going to contact her and arrange a meeting for next week. It seems she's a bit wary about visitors these days. You get yourself sorted out - I'll be back in a few hours."

Sirius waved at him with his spoon, between mouthfuls, as he disappeared into the fire. Chewing thoughtfully on the last spoonful he suddenly remembered Remus's passion for porridge. He had eaten it every day in school, as far as Sirius could recall. It was always the same - a huge, steaming bowlful with a great dollop of jam. Even when they had snuck down to the kitchens to blag food from the house-elves at midnight, Remus always persuaded them to mix up a great vat of porridge. Sirius had never seen the attraction, especially now. Porridge was prison food to him.

Every day in Azkaban had started with a quick wash in icy water followed by a small bowl of thin, watery gruel which was generally cold by the time it reached his cell. Lunch was dry, crusty bread and a slab of cheese. Dinner generally showed up at sunset - over boiled vegetables swimming in weak gravy in a dirty pan.

But despite the gruel, Sirius found that he didn't mind Remus's porridge too much. It was warm, thick and sweet. He felt nourished and content. But he decided there and then that if he could help it, he was definitely not going to touch the stuff again. As he stared at the now empty bowl his mind began to wander.

He saw a middle-aged, slightly rounded Remus sitting at a scrubbed kitchen table surrounded by scruffy but clean children. Bethan stood at the table, grey haired, her lined hand patting the swollen belly beneath a vast pink apron, as she spooned porridge into half a dozen bowls and absentmindedly blobbed strawberry jam on top of each.

The image faded and Sirius shivered with a sudden chill. He rubbed his rough, tangled beard with his palm trying in vain to dispel the nagging itch the bristles caused. Remus was right, he needed a shave. Above all, he needed to feel human again. Gathering up the contents of the table in one arm, he swept the blankets and pillow of the sofa with the other hand. Bethan's diary thudded to the floor, pages rustling. The book had landed on its spine, open on 1^st April. Sirius's eyes were drawn to the line that followed.

Why do I get lumbered with such an EVIL bastard of a brother? Why?

Intrigued and smirking he dropped the blankets and slowly bent down to recover the journal.

Woke up this morning from a peaceful slumber to find that I was incredibly late for work, the shower was producing tapeworms instead of water and some twat had hidden one half of every pair of shoes I own (which really isn't very many). When I got downstairs I found Billywigs in the Cornflakes (got stung twice), salt in the sugar bowl (not very imaginative, that one) and one of the elves crouched under the kitchen sink, sobbing into her tea towel. Caught my over-grown toddler of a brother sneaking out the front door, tittering to himself. Pulled out my wand to hex him, but all my wand will produce now is bunches of paper flowers and top hats with rabbits in them.

So now I'm floating two foot off the floor (courtesy of the Billywigs), in a very bad mood, with dirty hair and wearing a pair of Mum's shoes. I've now also realised that I'm early for work not late (Sirius has been messing with all the clocks) and I'm absolutely starving because there doesn't appear to be any food in the house that hasn't been tampered with. Right, I've got an hour to come up with a cunning plan and execute it...

8:55 am: Sorted. I've put the colour change charm on ALL his robes. We use it all the time at work for evening wear, but I've made a few modifications just for Sirius. The charm is heat activated so it'll only start working after about an hour and the colour cycle is pretty garish - pinks, neon greens, mustard yellows, that sort of thing. I spent half an hour with my old schoolbooks trying to remember how to make it permanent so he can't just reverse the spell. It's no good for today obviously but there is tomorrow, and the next day, and the day after that...Oh, I wish I could find a way to be there to witness it.

3^rd April

Oh, I can barely see through the tears and my sides ache from laughing so hard. I've taken refuge at Rhea's house as Sirius is in a foul mood because of his robes. He's chucked out the entire contents of his (very colourful) wardrobe and had to go all the way to Hogsmeade today and buy a whole new set. I love the new devious me!

Sirius closed the book, chuckling to himself and went off in search of the bathroom.

In his friend's tiny, white-washed bathroom he stared at the haunted reflection in the mirror. He was disgusted by the dirty, scraggy hair and grimy features. So much needed doing, but where to begin? For the first time in he-couldn't-think-how many years, he felt relatively safe and he was warm, calm and fed. The knowledge that he didn't have to keep looking over his shoulder or go foraging for food was slightly unnerving to him, but the fact that the man in the mirror didn't match the inner projection of his own self-image was more disturbing. He had to stop poking around in the past, and concentrate on the present for a while. He put the book and pile of clothes on the toilet while he ran a bath, and then begun the task of making himself presentable with a relish.

Sirius only put down the scissors and razor and climbed into the bath when he was completely satisfied he'd done the best he could. The bath wasn't exactly luxurious, the porcelain was cold and the water had bits floating in it, courtesy of an old water tank in an old cottage, but nevertheless it was hot and soothing to his weary body. He closed his eyes and tried to relax but resurfaced memories were jostling for prominence in his mind. He could remember the April fool's day that Bethan had written about so vividly now. And, how during a serious investigation at work the next day, when he had been presenting important evidence to his superiors, his sombre grey robes had suddenly become bright orange. It was amusing now, now that it wasn't important any more. But at the time, he'd been as mad as hell. And now he was remembering other pranks, other tricks he'd played on Bethan, Moony and the others.

He had forgotten so much in the intervening years. Reading Bethan's diary had opened up the floodgates to his sub-conscious and his brain felt bombarded with wave after wave of recognition. It was like living his life all over again through somebody else's eyes. He could feel the lure of the diary pulling on his mind, but he tried hard to stop himself looking over at it.

In fact he was concentrating so hard on not looking at the book that he didn't realise his hand reaching out for it until it closed on the soft, leathery cover.