Sirius stared gloomily at the computer. This could not be true. It had to be a great horrible misshaped joked. The idea that he was stuck in an illusion was getting rather comforting. The emotions built a hot and angry hurricane inside of him. Tears tried to form. James and Lily dead, Remus dead and Peter a traitor. And Sirius’ life would end in a few years, too. No one could count Azkaban as a worthy place to live. And killed by Bellatrix? What kind of joke was this?
Padfoot, damn it, get a grip. Who says it was the truth? Let’s just see what this Weasley girl would tell him. Maybe it was just another one of Petersen’s ideas of torturing people. The only thing Sirius knew for sure was that he did not know what to think.
He stretched his hurt leg and got to his feet. Sirius limped out of his cabin and glared at the sun. This bloody thing should not shine so bright on a day like this. It was just not right. He looked around. Somewhere on the beach, Dominique had written. Sirius made his way towards the yellow sand. Now, Sirius was glad about the pain. His mind put all effort in walking, and there was no space left for worry. It did not take long to reach the café. Except the tiny strange men, who made up half of the resorts’ staff, only one girl occupied a table. That had to be her. He bit on his lip and forced himself to walk as normal as he could. As he reached the table, he smiled, though it lacked his usual self-confidence and he cursed himself for this.
“Hi”, he said and ran a hand through his still short hair.