AN: I know that I'm starting yet another fic, but I promise that I will keep writing all of my fics! I really hate it when people abandon their stories, so I refuse to be a hypocrite! The stories shall be completed!!
Anyhoo, this is my take on how things could have gone if Remus had been sent to Azkaban instead of Sirius.
SPOILER ALERT: Contains exact quotes from POA!
Please read and review!!
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter!
Harry Potter came downstairs on the morning of his thirteenth birthday, feeling a lot more cheerful than he had on his previous birthdays. The reason for this was the fact that he had received four birthday presents in the middle of the night, from the four people that he cared about most in the world; Ron, Hermione, Hagrid, and of course, his godfather, Sirius, who was currently in Ireland on business.
Smiling to himself, he sat down next to Uncle Vernon and helped himself to some toast. Uncle Vernon, who had been reading the paper, looked up and glared. But for once in his life, he wasn't glaring at Harry; he was glaring at the kitchen TV screen. Harry followed his gaze and gasped.
Looking back at him from the TV was a gaunt looking man, with shoulder-length brown hair that was flecked with grey. Several long scars ran across his face, as though they had been made by an animal's claw, and he had premature lines around his mouth and eyes.
"…the public is warned that Lupin is armed and extremely dangerous. A special hotline has been set up, and any sightings of Lupin should be reported immediately."
"No need to tell us he's no good," snorted Uncle Vernon, glaring at the prisoner over the top of his newspaper. "Look at the state of him, covered in scars and what not. I wouldn't be surprised if he was covered in tattoos as well." Uncle Vernon was strongly against tattoos, piercings and anything that wasn't 'normal', as he liked to put it. Harry had the feeling that Uncle Vernon wouldn't have liked the man on the screen even if he wasn't a convict.
However, as Harry looked into the eyes of the man on the television screen, he felt pity for him. Underneath the gaunt face and multiple scars and lines, his eyes held a kindness. Harry hadn't got a clue what the prisoner had done, but just looking at him was enough to convince Harry that he was innocent.
Harry slumped down on a curb in Magnolia Crescent one week later, his chest heaving from the combination of dragging a heavy trunk, and being extremely angry.
After a few minutes, panic started to take hold of him. He had no way of contacting his godfather or his best friends because Hedwig was at Ron's, and he was almost certain that Ministry of Magic representatives would be swooping down at him at any moment for using magic outside of Hogwarts.
Yes, Harry Potter had succeeded in getting himself into yet another mess!
After a few minutes of pondering what few options he had, Harry opened his trunk and started to rummage through it, looking for his father's invisibility cloak. But before he had found it, he straightened up suddenly, looking around him once more. A funny prickling on the back of his neck had made Harry feel he was being watched, but the street appeared to be deserted, and no lights shone from any of the square houses.
He bent over again, but straightened up suddenly when he heard a twig snap behind him. Clenching his wand tightly, he turned around to see…
Nothing.
Harry frowned, looking around him again. There was no-one in sight, and yet… Harry squinted into the darkness, looking into the front gardens of the houses around him. There was no-one there. It had probably just been a startled cat or something.
Just as Harry started to turn back to his trunk again, he definitely saw something! A dark figure had darted out from behind a parked car and disappeared into one of the perfectly kept gardens. Startled, Harry stepped backwards and tripped over his trunk, flinging out his wand arm to break his fall. Cursing slightly, he pulled himself to his feet, his wand raised and ready. Whatever it was was still watching him.
Suddenly, a loud BANG erupted behind Harry, freaking him out again, and a large, purple, triple-decker bus appeared out of thin air. A teenager in a violet uniform jumped off of the bus and started to speak into the night air, "Welcome to the Knight Bus, emergency transport for the stranded witch or wizard. Just stick out your wand hand, step on board and…OY, ARE YOU EVEN LISTENING TO ME?"
Harry wasn't listening at all. Instead he was staring into the front garden of number 13, where the dark figure had been watching him from.
There was no-one there.
AN: Ok, this is some really crappy writing and I seem to be using the word 'no-one' a lot in this fic, but I'm feeling depressed at the mo (I hate being a teenager!)
Please review, it'll make me feel better!!
xxxx
