Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any related works
When the fog wasn't too thick, Sirius could just about make out the coast. He wasn't too sure what part of the coast it was, exactly- he couldn't remember his arrest or transport to prison. There was a flash of white that blinded him as Peter set off an explosion, and when he opened his eyes he was in the cell. He couldn't even remember his trial, or what the hell he'd said to land himself here. He stuck his head out between the bars, and twisted sideways, his shoulders to damn broad to fit no matter how hard he tried. He could see the coast today- a strip of green on the edge of the horizon, a reminder of everything he'd lost. He unwedged his shoulders and pulled his head back inside, resting his head against the bars, listening to the steady crash of waves against the wall of the prison. There was a sudden crack, earsplittingly loud in the small cell, echoing and amplifying off of the stone walls, and Sirius flung himself away from the window, into the corner. You couldn't apparate in Azkaban, he thought wildly, its wards were nearly as strong as Hogwarts. What sort of magic could be powerful enough-
Oh, of course, he thought, exhaling slightly when he saw the small figure balled up in the corner opposite him. Accidental magic, elemental and chaotic in nature, and almost impossible for even outside forces to control. The relief was quickly replaced by fear- not fear for his own safety, but for the child.
"Hey there," he said, crossing the length of the cell in two quick strides, "Are you alright there?" The boy looked up, startled by Sirius' voice, but said nothing, his tear streaked face wrenched in fear and confusion. Poor little tyke didn't even know what he'd done, Sirius thought, and knelt in front of the boy, pawing at him a little to make sure he hadn't splinched any extremities. "You've accidentally apperated," he explained to the boy, "Do you feel any pain in your tummy? Or anywhere else?" The boy shook his head.
"My knees are skinneded though," he said quietly. Sirius took a second look- sure enough, the boy's legs were covered in scabs and bruises in various states of healing, some quite fresh. His hands and elbows weren't much better, and he had a split lip. Sirius kissed his palms and pressed them to the boy's knees.
"All better," Sirius said. "I take it you fall down a fair bit?"
"I get pushed overed by my cousin. He's a big boy," the boy said. "I'm not espossed to complain though, cause I'm espossed to toughen up like a big boy."
"Is that what your parents tell you?" Sirius asked, straightening the boy's oversized shirt. The boy shook his head, his tangled bangs fell to the other side of his face, stealing Sirius' breath.
"No," Harry Potter said, dark red scar blazing out above brilliant, bottle-green eyes, so like his mother's, "My parents are dead."
"Oy!" Phineas Phelps hollered from the next cell other. "What's that fukken noise over there Black!?"
"Yeah, and 'oos that in there witchu, you plod? I 'ear 'is smarmy lil voice, don't chu be lying now!" Orm Mullum yelled also. Sirius cursed his luck- the cells in Azkaban had muffling charms on them, to keep the ramblers from driving everyone completely starkers, but you could still hear those adjacent to you if they spoke loudly, or anyone who shouted.
"You trying to escape? By Merlin's bloody beard, if you get out and don't take me with you I'll rip your blood-traitorous nuts off, you piece of-"
"Shut up, you fucking frogs!" Sirius shouted back. "A boy accidentally apparated into my cell. Someone'll be along shortly to pick him up shortly, I suspect, and in the meantime watch your damn language, would you!?" He paused, and turned to Harry. "Sorry," he said, "I'll put a sickle in the swear jar when the Auror comes for you."
"What boy?" Phelps asked at the top of his lungs. Sirius thought fast. If this lot found out that Harry Potter was in Azkaban- cold iron was sturdy, and the Dementors left most of them lethargic with madness, but knowing Harry Potter, who's defeat of Voldemort had gotten most of them imprisoned, was just a few yards away- nothing would keep them from trying to kill him.
"Evan!" Sirius shouted quickly. "Evan Jameson!"
"What!? Some little mudblood whelp apparated in here!?"
"My name's not Evan," Harry said quietly.
"I know that, and you know that," Sirius said very quietly, "But if this lot finds out who you are- well, it wouldn't by fantastic, if you know what I mean. And Evan's not just a muggle name, you ignorant piece of purist puke!" he added in a shout.
"You know who I am?" Harry asked. Sirius nodded.
"I'm Sirius Black," he said, and leaned forward, whispering "I'm your godfather. You know what a godfather is?" Harry nodded.
"Is that how come I app- app-"
"Apparated."
"Is that how come I ap-part-ated here?"
"Could be. What were you thinking of when you disapparated?" Harry looked away from Sirius, and brought his knees up to his chin, clutching them tightly to his chest.
"I dunno," he said. He blinked, and looked around some more, taking in the cell. "Are we in jail?"
"Yes," Sirius said. "We're in Azkaban Prison. Do you know where that is?"
"No. How come I'm in prison?"
"I don't know, you're the one who apparated here."
"How come you're in prison?"
"Because I'm an idiot."
"Am I in prison cause I'm an idiot?"
"Absolutely not," Sirius said, and somewhat awkwardly, for the first time since Harry was an infant, reached out to pet his head. "You're a very bright boy. Not just anyone could apparate past these wards without splinching themselves six ways to Sunday." He looked Harry up and down- the boy was barefoot and wearing too large Muggle play-clothes, probably an emergency change after getting dirty rough housing with the cousin he'd mentioned; a pair of red shorts safety pinned at the waist to make the stretched out elastic fit Harry's slim waist, and an extra-large white polo embroidered with St. Pyr's Primary, half tucked in at the front. He tapped the logo. "Is this where you go to school?" Harry shook his head.
"Uh-uh. Used to go, but Dudley got throwed out for rough playing with Gemma Whitmore so that her arm breaked, so we havta find a new school for next year."
"How old are you, anyways?" Sirius asked. Harry shrugged.
"Dunno."
"Well, how many candles were on your birthday cake?"
"I don't have a birthday."
"Well, what year of school are you in?"
"I'm not in school now."
"Before your lunk of a cousin got you thrown out, what year were you in?"
"Um… Reception."
"Reception," Sirius repeated, and petted Harry's head again. "That makes you four years old now." Harry shrugged.
"How old are you?" Harry asked.
"Twenty five," Sirius said, doing the math. "If your four years old, I'm twenty five."
"Wow," Harry said, "That's really old."
"Yeah," Sirius agreed, "I'm really old." Twenty five. Was he already twenty five? He found that the dull monotony of confinement had smoothed his memories together. It was as if eternity has passed by slowly in an instant.
"I can count to twenty five," Harry said shyly. "Wanna see?"
"I'd love to," Sirius said, sitting down beside him. Harry scooted a little closer and began to count.
A long time later, after Harry had shown Sirius he could count to one hundred forwards, backwards, and by fives, and taught him the Sometimes Y Song, frost began to creep up the bars of his cell door. Harry shivered and sniveled.
"Shh, it's alright, it's alright," Sirius said. "Hide under the blanket and try to think of nothing." Harry stood up and unsteadily tottered over to the bare mattress on the far side of the cell, wrapping himself in the wool blanket curling up in a corner. The air dropped another few degrees as the Dementors made their way down the hall, and Harry began crying. Coriandros Korba, who had gone mad not long after Sirius had arrived, began shrieking. The darkness and sadness closed in around him and everything in Sirius howled out for the scant protection Padfoot offered, but he stood firm in front of the cell door. He had a mission- he had to tell them Harry was here. An Auror should've come by now- apparently, accidental child magic didn't trip the wards. The shadowy figure, a plate in one gnarled scabby hand, floated up, unlocking the door with a wave of its hand, pushing it open.
"Hey," Sirius said. "There's a boy in here. You need to get an Auror to pick him up." The Dementor set the food down on the floor. "Did you hear me?" Sirius demanded, "A child accidentally apparated here! Get the damn Aurors!" The Dementor turned, and floated out of the cell, the door swinging shut and locking behind it. "Hey! The bloody Aurors! You need to- do you understand me!? You need to get a human in here to deal with the damn kid! Are you leaving to get the Aurors!?" The Dementer began to float down the hall. "Hey!" Sirius shouted, slamming on the door, "By Merlin's merciful muckrack, if you don't bring a bloody Auror back with you, you oversized curtain-" The Dementor smoothly turned, and floated back. It reached out it's gnarled fingers, laying them over Sirius's, and it was as if his very marrow had been stabbed by an icicle, it was so cold, and there was a terrible, rattling, sucking sound as it breathed in, and it was hopeless, wasn't it, he really was a traitor and murderer, Lily and James and those Muggles' blood on his dirty useless coward hands, and the black swam up around his vision and his head cracked against the ground.
His head ached when he woke up. He felt a small sticky palm smoothing over his forehead.
"It's ok… It's ok…" the boy repeated with each stroke.
"I'm ok," Sirius reassured him. Harry jerked his hand away in surprise, but soon replaced it.
"What was that?" Harry asked. "The bad thing, I mean."
"That was a Dementor," Sirius said. "It's gone now."
"Will it be back?"
"Twice a day," Sirius said. Harry started to cry. Sirius sat up, trying not to faint again as blood rushed from his head, and pulled Harry into his lap. "No no, shh, it's ok… You'll be gone soon. An Auror or LEO will come by soon to get you, it'll be alright."
"You keep saying that, but what are those?" Harry asked. Sirius blinked. Maybe the Muggle clothes weren't just from a visit to his cousin- maybe Harry didn't live in the magical world.
"A LEO like a magical Bobbie, who might come since getting lost children home isn't difficult, but here in Azkaban we normally only get Aurors, who are like magical detectives, since the inmates here can be dangerous," he explained. Harry frowned.
"I'm not a baby you know," he said.
"You don't say."
"I know that there's no such thing as magic." Sirius was stunned for a moment, but quickly recovered. Young children had trouble keeping secrets- his relatives probably didn't want to risk attracting any unwanted attention if Harry ran around shouting about wizards.
"Sure there is," he said, "How did you get here then?"
"You said that I appartated."
"Apparated, and yes. Apparition is a kind of magic."
"There's no such thing as magic," Harry stubbornly insisted.
"Well then how did you apparate?"
"I asked the Baby Jesus to take me to someone- to take me somewhere-" Harry paused and squirmed uncomfortably, "I asked the Baby Jesus to take me someplace else, so I guess he made me apparate here."
"The Baby Jesus?"
"Yeah, they talked about him a lot in school. If you're in a bad sit-u-a-tion, the Baby Jesus can save you with a miracle if you ask him to."
"Were you in a bad situation?" Sirius asked. Harry looked away and didn't answer. "Harry? Why did you ask Baby Jesus to save you?"
"I dunno," Harry said.
Sirius tried to set aside his sense of foreboding and said lightly, "Well, maybe the Baby Jesus apparated you here, but it's not a miracle, its magic. I can prove to you magic is real right now."
"I know how the Pound trick works," Harry said. "Ms. Rose showed our class how it works after Dudley tried to knock Pound coins out of my ears."
"No no, this is much better than a trick," Sirius assured him. "Stand up, there's a boy." When Harry was off of his lap, standing in front of him, arms crossed skeptically, Sirius pushed himself from a sitting position to a crouch, and then shifted. Harry shrieked and leapt back, falling onto the mattress, and Padfoot leapt on top of him, licking his face playfully. When he realized that the shrieks were more terrified than they were amused, he shifted back to Sirius. "Hey there," he said, still braced above the cowering boy, "I'm still me, it's fine."
"How did you do that!?" Harry demanded.
"Stop yer shrieking you 'igh-pitched 'inkypunk, it's loud enuff wichout yer racket!" Mullum shouted back.
"Magic," Sirius told Harry, "And don't tell anyone, it's a secret, alright?"
"Magic is a secret?"
"Generally, yes. But I meant specifically about 'Padfoot' I just showed you. I showed you because your my godson, but you can't tell another soul about it, alright?"
"How come?"
"'Padfoot's' not terribly legal, if you understand me."
"Is that how come you're in jail?"
"No, but you could say it's related," Sirius said, sitting up. Harry sat up as well, looking too serious for a five year old boy.
"Is magic being a secret how come my aunt and uncle would get so mad if I talked about it?" he asked.
"Probably."
"But then how come they told me it wasn't real, instead of just telling me it was a secret?"
"I don't know. They had their reasons. If people found out you could do magic, it would be very dangerous."
"Magic is pretty dangerous," Harry said.
"It can be," Sirius said, "But it can also be beautiful. It's… oh, it's awesome and awful, and terrific and terrifying, and transcendently wondrous." Any joy in his description leeched out of him as he realized he'd never do magic again- not real magic, not here in this cell.
"You said that I apparated on accident. Does that mean a person can do magic not on purpose?" Harry asked, breaking him out of a spiral of sadness that could've left him paralyzed with grief as it had in the past.
"Yes, children who don't have total control over their magic sometimes have magical accidents, especially if they're scared or angry. Adults need to use wands for most forms of magic though, so they can focus it."
"Could you do accidental magic?"
"Maybe if my life was in danger. My magical core isn't leaky like a kid's is though, so it doesn't happen as often as it would for you." Harry played with the hem of his shorts, his face twisted oddly.
"Could accidental magic make a thing that doesn't normally blow up blow up?"
"Yes," Sirius said. "Is that why you're scared? Are you scared because you accidentally made something explode?" Harry shrugged.
"I dunno."
"You don't know. Well, when the Auror comes to take you home-"
"Take me home!?" Harry shouted jumping up. "I can't go home! They'll kill me! They'll kill me! They're gonna kill me!"
"Calm down! Who's going to kill you?"
"I'll kill the fukken Jameson twerp if he don't shut his fukken face this second!" Phelps called back.
"Shut up Phelps!" Sirius roared back. "It's fine, it's fine, kids blow up things on accident all the time- I guarantee an Accidental Magic Reversal Team has already fixed anything you broke and explained things to your uncle, and if worse comes to worse they can just replace it- no one's going to kill you," he said more gently to Harry, grabbing him and pulling him back on the mattress.
"He said he'd do it!" Harry cried, hysterically, burying his face into Sirius' side even as he pounded on his shoulder. "He threw me in the cupboard and said he would kill me as soon as they got back from hospital!"
"Who did?" Sirius asked. "Your uncle?" Harry nodded miserably, and sobbed. He was crying so hard Sirius could feel a wet patch forming in the dull grey robes he was wearing. "Hey there Harry," Sirius whispere, rubbing his back, wanting to reassure the boy but fearful Mullum would hear him. "What did you blow up? It's fine to tell me, I promise. I won't tell anyone else if you don't want to."
"My cousin," Harry said miserably, in a tear thick voice, "I blowed up my cousin!"
"Dudley is my cousin, and it's not fair at all. He gets two bedrooms, and all the toys, and he gets to eat first and it's not fair at all! But today Dudley went to the carnival with his parents and I had to stay with Mrs. Figg, and she gave me a present cause its almost Easter. It was a fire engine, and it was as big as her cat Mittens, and if you pulled it back it would roll forward on its own, and you could press a button to make it light up and siren and it had a little ladder that grew out and it was the best thing ever cause I'm gonna be a fireman when I grow up.
"But when they comed home and Mrs. Figg walked me back over, stupid Dudley saw the fire engine and ripped it out of my hands and ran up the stairs! I chased up after him, but he shoved me down and I got bruised and he said it was his toy. Aunt Petunia asked us what the ruckus was and I told her it was my toy but she said it wasn't, it was only fair Dudley got the fire engine and when I tried to argue she grounded me in the cupboard till dinner which was hours away and stupid Dudley started playing with it right in front of me at the top of the stairs and he broke the growing ladder off and I was so mad and then the fire engine blowed up and Dudley started screaming and I started screaming and Aunt Petunia started screaming and Uncle Vernon shouted what the bloody racket was and then Dudley ran down the stairs and plastic bits were in his face and he was bleeding and Uncle Vernon started screaming too.
"Aunt Petunia picked Dudley up and ran out of our house and Uncle Vernon grabbed me and throwed me in the cupboard and told me that when they got back he'd kill me for what I did to Dudley and I started crying and he locked the door and I asked the Baby Jesus to take me to someone who'd love me like family and here I am and I can't go back cause they'll kill me, they'll kill me!"
"I'll kill them," Sirius said. "I'll kill those thrice cursed Muggles myself."
"Please don't be mad," Harry said miserably, having stopped crying through his monologue but still quite snivelly.
"I'm not mad at you," Sirius said, "You don't ever threaten a kid, especially not my godson. Listen," he said, "When the Auror comes, you tell them what happened- I know it's scary, but if you tell them what happened, I'm sure they can find you a safe place to live, ok?"
"Ok," Harry agreed, and blew his nose into his shirt sleeve.
"There's a boy," Sirius said, and stood up and walked over to the cell door, picking up the food tray. "Here," he said, setting it between them on the mattress. The food was the usual meager affair- two hard rolls and quickly cooling cabbage soup. "I know it's nasty, but it looks like you might have to wait a little longer than I expected. You should eat something."
"How much can I eat?" Harry asked.
"As much as you want," Sirius said, snagging one of the rolls. "I'm an adult, so my stomach is smaller than yours."
"I don't think that's how it works."
"What do you know? You didn't even know magic was real till today. I know how my own stomach works, so have as much of that as you can stand." He broke the roll in half and peeled off a piece of crust, throwing it in his mouth and setting about chewing it one hundred times to make it seem like more. Harry hesitantly took the other roll and started gnawing on it, finally giving up and throwing it in the cabbage soup to soak. He picked up the bowl and spoon and tried some of the soup, making a face as he did so. "Have a little more," Sirius encouraged him, ripping off his second piece of crust, "It tastes better the more you eat." Harry stabbed at the now soggy roll with his spoon. Eventually, he managed to finish the roll and most of the soup, passing what was left to Sirius who promptly drank it, forcing himself to drink the lukewarm and congealing liquid slowly so as not to betray his hunger to Harry. Putting the bowl and spoon back on the tray, he stood and crossed the small cell to put the tray back by the door. "Ok, that wash up," Sirius said, gesturing to the small sink in the corner of the room.
"Ummm," Harry said.
"No arguing, let's wash our hands."
"No, I'm not arguing, I need to… ummmm…" Sirius noticed Harry squirming where he sat.
"Oh. You need to go?" Harry nodded furiously. Sirius gestured to the chamberpot by the sink. "It's self-banishing, so don't worry about that. Just aim straight and you're good to go, as it were." Harry got up and walked over. He looked at the pot, then looked back at Sirius, staring. Sirius reached over and turned on the faucet, releasing a torrent of cold, brackish water.
"I'll be over here," he said, and walked over to the window, leaning his head through the gap in the bars.
"Thank you," Harry said.
"Don't mention it," Sirius said, and watched the sun go down over the green strip of coast on the horizon. In the dying light, it was the same color as Harry's eyes.
A/N: Alright, I hate long author's notes so I'll keep this brief. This is the beginning of a multi-chapter fic, and I'd like to know what you think so far. It is inspired in part by "Wishcraft" by Taint of Taia, which I admit I never finished because I read the first chapter and was immediately overcome by plot bunnies, by the film Leonera, and the book "Room" by Emma Donoghue. I say inspired, because although the early chapters contain some influences from those works and this first chapter is basically the same premise as Wishcraft, the later chapters I have planned go in a wildly different direction. I also want to assure you this isn't going to be weirdly religious fic or anything- this is the only time the Baby Jesus will be making an appearance. Also, St. Pyr is a real saint, and he is hilarious- the way his story was told to me, he was basically made a saint because of an accident in paperwork. Bonus points if you catch the Old English name pun. Thank you for reading, and I hope to have the next chapter up soon!