"Sirius. Sirius!"
The bright voice penetrated his unending misery. He moaned, attempting to curl more tightly beneath the too-thin blanket that offered no protection from the cold seeping in from every corner of the cell. He felt wrung out and empty, exhausted from the gut-wrenching sobs that followed after he'd screamed himself hoarse. His whole body ached from non-stop shivering.
"Listen to me!" The well-loved voice was insistent. Why did hearing the voice hurt so much? Tears leaked from under his tightly closed eyelids. "Sirius, please. You need to be Padfoot now. You've got to change. Turn into Padfoot, Sirius. Now. Now!"
The order seemed to echo as it sank into his brain, and he shifted involuntarily. He found it hard to think, but he'd been following the owner of that voice most of his life. He'd long ago given up any sense of self-preservation where it was concerned.
He had no idea how long he'd been in Grim form before he realized that he was a bit warmer, and the grief and anger had eased enough for him to think. What had happened? He was in Azkaban… Why?
Grief tore through him, with guilt hard on its heels. James. Lily. Harry. They were dead, all dead, and it was his fault. His. No matter that it was Wormtail — Wormtail! He'd been a Marauder! They had trusted him! — who had betrayed them. Sirius knew the guilt was his to bear alone. Why else had Dumbledore left him to rot in Azkaban? Why else had even Moony abandoned him?
"Harry's not dead, Sirius."
No. No, the voice was wrong. Harry had to be dead. It was his fault. He'd gone after Wormtail instead of taking care of his godpup the way he should have. Why hadn't he insisted on taking Harry when he saw Hagrid? He'd been selfish and let Hagrid take Harry so that he could find Wormtail and get revenge. When the aurors surrounded him and took him to the Ministry, Dumbledore had looked at him with such reproach. Dumbledore, who forgave everyone, even Snivellus. Sirius knew then that Harry was dead along with his beloved James and Lily.
The voice sighed. "You're wrong, Sirius. I don't know why Dumbledore hasn't gotten you out of here, but Harry is still alive. You need to stay sane, for his sake."
Harry was still alive? Sirius clutched at the thin strand of hope the voice offered. It was so hard to believe, but he trusted the voice. That meant he had to get to Harry, but how? He was stuck in Azkaban. There was no escaping Azkaban.
No. This was all his fault. Harry was better off without him. He whimpered. Hope had no place in Azkaban.
"You're being ridiculous, you know."
He put his paw over his head, trying to drown out the voice. He knew his shortcomings. He put everyone around him in danger —
"Stop it! Stop thinking that! I've always been so proud of you, as my friend, as my —" The voice cut off abruptly, only to resume a moment later. "I'm so, so sorry, Sirius, but you need to change back. The guards are coming. You need to be human, so they don't find out you're an animagus."
Sirius braced himself as best he could for the pain of his human form, but there was no way to truly be prepared for the cold — or for the dementors. He screamed, losing consciousness as grief and guilt overwhelmed him.
He didn't know how long he'd been in prison. Forever, maybe? Had he ever not been in Azkaban? Time didn't exist in his unrelenting grey existence.
"Sirius?"
The voice was back. He ignored it. He wasn't sure if it had ever really been there, or if it had somehow been his imagination. He'd followed its imagined prompting, time and again, changing between his human and Grim forms. Now he was tired, too tired to do more than lay on the pallet in his cell. Too tired to dream that James still loved him.
"Lily! I can't reach Sirius. He's not listening to me anymore."
Sirius froze. Lily was there too? Grief and guilt rolled over him like the tide, stealing his breath. She had to hate him.
"Oh, Sirius. You silly man. I don't hate you. Listen to us. Listen to James."
He tried to obey, to pull free, but he was drowning in a sea of misery that relentlessly pulled him under. The only things he could hear were the cries of his fellow prisoners. His screams and howls joined theirs.
Sometimes he heard Lily singing, like she had to Harry, and he thought his heart would stop with the force of his grief. Then soft lips would press against his forehead, their warmth searing against his freezing skin.
"I'm sorry, Sirius. Shush now, darling, and sleep."
He turned into a Grim in his rare moments of sanity. Although, how sane could he really be, when that was when he thought he heard James or Lily?
"Sirius? Sirius, look!"
He rolled over, pulling the blanket over his head. "Go 'way, James. I don't want to get up for class. Tell McGonagall I'm sick."
"Oh, for Merlin's sake. Sirius! Wake up, you idiot! This is important."
Sirius groaned. There was no denying Lily anything when she was in that mood. He opened his eyes to the dark grey that had coloured his world for longer than he could remember, and braced himself for the grief and guilt that came with being awake in Azkaban. He wished that he could go back to his dream, where James and Lily were talking to him.
"Pay attention, Sirius. There are guards coming. You need to see the article in the Daily Prophet."
"James?" How was he hearing James' voice? More importantly — "I think I… I'm sane, James. How?"
"We're helping you. Lils and me, I mean. It can't last, but now is the time. You need this information, Sirius."
"Oh, Merlin's Beard, James," Sirius whispered, trying to swallow back tears through a throat gone tight with grief. "You and Lily are dead."
"As we've been for the last twelve years, Sirius." Lily's voice snapped in his ear. "There's no time for this."
Footsteps echoed down the hallway mixing with the moans and cries from the other prisoners. The two guards paused every now and then in front of a cell, and jeered at whichever poor wretch was imprisoned within.
"Those arseholes."
"Lily!" James' voice sounded shocked.
Sirius didn't blame him. He couldn't imagine Lily Evans Potter ever saying something so coarse. But he had to concentrate, the two guards were coming closer. He pressed against the bars of his cell. He didn't recognize the two, but they were familiar. He shuddered. Of course. He hadn't been quite sane when he'd seen them before.
The two were near clones of each other, with narrow faces and dark hair, wearing faded, patched robes. Sirius' nose twitched. They wore the remains of their last meal — or possibly meals — on their robes, too. The names Argus and Teg floated up from his memory. From Hogwarts? Maybe. One of them — Teg? — had a copy of the Daily Prophet tucked in a robe pocket.
"Did you see the game last night, Argus? The Catapults' seeker practically strolled his way to the snitch, and the Cannons' seeker didn't even notice."
"Yeah, he was awful. The Cannons should have replaced him ages ago."
Sirius could feel James practically quivering with interest at the guards' conversation as they passed. James always had been quidditch mad. To be fair, Sirius was too, but now he had to concentrate on the newspaper. He visualized the appropriate wand motions as he whispered, "Accio Daily Prophet!"
The newspaper moved slightly, as if in a gentle breeze. He concentrated harder, not noticing that he'd bitten through his lip until it bled. He tried again. "Accio!"
This time, the newspaper slipped out of Teg's pocket and shot towards Sirius. He hastily reached for it, snatching the paper out of the air.
"Hah! What a catch! You could have been a seeker with talent like that."
"Honestly, James. This is a little more important than quidditch."
"Sorry, Lils."
Sirius bit back his instinctive impulse to echo James' apology and glanced towards the guards. Argus and Teg were turning the corner, continuing their discussion. They were completely oblivious to the theft of the Daily Prophet. He smiled. Good.
He turned his attention to the newspaper. What did James and Lily want him to see? The front page of the Prophet featured a picture of a large family, waving at the camera, in front of the Egyptian pyramids. The Weasleys? He checked the story. Arthur and Molly. That sounded right. They had been members of the Order of the Phoenix in the fight against You Know Who. Looked like they had a few more kids than he remembered. That couldn't be important… He froze as his eyes fell on the rat one of the boys held. Was it…? No, it couldn't be… could it?
A low growl resonated through his chest. "Wormtail." Sirius needed to escape. He could force Wormtail to tell the truth to clear his name and get revenge for what Wormtail did to James and Lily. And then… then, he could find Harry, and hope his godpup was willing to see him.
Before he could get lost in a fantasy where Harry not only wanted to see him, but actually wanted to live with him, Sirius felt warmth and love brush against him, along with a sense of sadness and goodbye. No. "No, you can't leave me! Please. I need you, James. Lily, please. I can't do this without you."
"You can, Sirius. You must. We can't stay any longer. We love you, Sirius. Give our love to Harry. Good-bye."
James! Sirius shifted into Grim form and howled for long after the presences of his two loves faded. Finally he slumped, exhausted, onto his pallet. His mind, miraculously, was still clear. Good. He had an escape to plan, a rat to kill, and a godpup to raise.