Full summary- What if Sirius was never accused for the 'murder' of Wormtail? What if he took a one-year-old Harry under his wing, on the advice of Albus Dumbledore? What if Sirius was accused of the murder just before Harry's first year of Hogwarts? How will Harry cope with being the son of the Dark Lord's second in command? And with suspicious activities in the school increasing every day, will he find the inner strength to confront He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, and resurrect the legend of The Boy Who Lived? Why am I asking so many questions? The only way to find out is... READ!

Disclaimer- I own nothing.

Prologue

Harry Potter was one year old. One year, three months, and a day, to be precise.

And he was an orphan.

And not for a long time, either. He had only been an orphan for six hours, fourteen minutes, and fifty-five… fifty-six…fifty-seven…fifty-eight…fifty-nine…As of six hours and fifteen minutes.

But, of course, Harry Potter did not know this. All he knew was he had a soiled diaper that needed to be changed, a horrible pain in his forehead, and his mommy and daddy were just lying on the ground, even though he was crying and crying and crying.

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Sirius Black strode through the rubble that had recently been the home of his best friend in the whole world and his wife. His whole self was in turmoil, as his different wants jostled to make themselves known first. He wanted to go after Peter, that little… that little rat, who had betrayed his best friends to Voldemort. He wanted to collapse on the ground and sob, no matter who happened to be watching. He wanted to start hexing everything in sight.

But he also wanted his Godson, and, more importantly, Dumbledore wanted him to have his Godson, so, here he was, digging through the ruins of the last place on Earth he wanted to be, trying to avoid the sight of his best friend's eyes staring into space.

A baby's cry suddenly interrupted his thoughts. As he stepped towards the sound, he swore revenge.

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Seven hours later, Sirius carried an exhausted Harry into his tiny home, and into the kitchen, where he was surprised to find an upset looking Remus Lupin standing before him.

"Peter's dead," he said, without even bothering to say hello.

"You don't say?" said Sirius, trying and failing to look remorseful.

"He was the one who betrayed Lily and James, wasn't he?" Remus asked, still glaring.

"Yes…" said Sirius.

"How come it took you so long to get back from Godric's Hollow?" Remus asked.

Sirius placed the still sleeping Harry on the couch, where he merely turned over and resumed sleeping.

Then he turned to his friend, and said, "Look, Remus, I know what you're thinking, and I didn't. No, really!" Remus had raised his left eyebrow in that way of his that said I-don't-believe-a-single-word-you're-saying-but-you'd-better-tell-me-what's-going-on-right-now.

"Okay, I admit I was really angry when I left the Hollow, and I did try and find Peter, but when I finally did manage to track him down, what do you think he does?"

"What?" Remus asked, in an unbelieving tone.

"He sticks the wand behind his back and blows up the entire street, killing-"

"Killing twelve muggles in the process," Remus finished, "Yes, I heard that part."

Sirius sat down on the couch next to his Godson, and looked up at his friend with eyes that were red and tired. "You believe me, don't you?" he asked.

"Sure I do," said Remus, sitting down next to him.

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Okay, that's it, sorry it happens to be just about the most supremely short chapter on Earth, it's just a prologue, which I know is no excuse, but I really didn't have anything else I wanted to put in there. Anyway, to make up for the general shortness of this chapter, here's a sneak preview of the next one. Which isn't really sneak, because anyone could read it if they felt like it.

Harry's heart beat wildly as he looked up at the battered, patched, and frayed sorting hat. He was next, he just knew it. Sure enough, the next words out of Professor McGonagall's mouth were, "Black, Harry!"

He stepped forward with knees that seemed to be made out of jelly beans. That had melted into a brownish colored goop. The Great Hall behind him was whispering, and he caught a few words, here and there.

"Black? Did she say?"

"Like Sirius Black?"

The murmurs grew louder and louder as McGonagall placed the hat on his bowed head.