Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN ANY HARRY POTTER CHARACTERS OR ANY OF THAT STUFF. only my character Jamie (:

12 years in this prison...I'm suprised i didn't lose my mind.. but what kept me from madness is knowing i was innocent peter killed all them muggles...and my twin brother james... and lily... and poor harry left a orphan... what kind of aunt am i getting stuck in azkaban leaving him to be tortued.. me and sirius are innocent of course we got stuck rotting in this god forsaken place..

a hour later...

a black dog comes running towards my cell and transforms back to his human form.

"Hurry up transform and lets go i found peter!" he transformed back to padfoot. and i changed along with him my animagus form was a white wolf.

I quickly slipped through my cell bars and ran full speed we got to the end of the building and jumped out a window in the aurors office into the water. luckily the aurors were doing there check ups at the ministry at this time leaving few aurors around. and the demeters didnt seem to notice us in our animagus forms. For once we were FREE. now its time to get revenge on the traitor.

Elsewhere...

The Dursley family of number four, Privet Drive, was the reason that
Harry never enjoyed his summer holidays. Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia, and
their son, Dudley, were Harry's only living relatives. They were
Muggles, and they had a very medieval attitude toward magic. Harry's
dead parents, who had been a witch and wizard themselves, were never
mentioned under the Dursleys' roof For years, Aunt Petunia and Uncle
Vernon had hoped that if they kept Harry as downtrodden as possible,
they would be able to squash the magic out of him. To their fury, they
had been unsuccessful. These days they lived in terror of anyone finding
out that Harry had spent most of the last two years at Hogwarts School
of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The most they could do, however, was to lock
away Harry's spellbooks, wand, cauldron, and broomstick at the start of
the summer break, and forbid him to talk to the neighbors.

This separation from his spellbooks had been a real problem for Harry,
because his teachers at Hogwarts had given him a lot of holiday work.
One of the essays, a particularly nasty one about shrinking potions, was
for Harry's least favorite teacher, Professor Snape, who would be
delighted to have an excuse to give Harry detention for a month. Harry
had therefore seized his chance in the first week of the holidays. While
Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia, and Dudley had gone out into the front
garden to admire Uncle Vernon's new company car (in very loud voices, so
that the rest of the street would notice it too), Harry had crept
downstairs, picked the lock on the cupboard under the stairs, grabbed
some of his books, and hidden them in his bedroom. As long as he didn't
leave spots of ink on the sheets, the Dursleys need never know that he
was studying magic by night.

Harry was particularly keen to avoid trouble with his aunt and uncle at
the moment, as they were already in an especially bad mood with him, all
because he'd received a telephone call from a fellow wizard one week
into the school vacation.

Ron Weasley, who was one of Harry's best friends at Hogwarts, came from
a whole family of wizards. This meant that he knew a lot of things Harry
didn't, but had never used a telephone before. Most unluckily, it had
been Uncle Vernon who had answered the call.

"Vernon Dursley speaking."

Harry, who happened to be in the room at the time, froze as he heard
Ron's voice answer.

"HELLO? HELLO? CAN YOU HEAR ME? I -- WANT -- TO -- TALK -- TO -- HARRY
-- POTTER!"

Ron was yelling so loudly that Uncle Vernon jumped and held the receiver
a foot away from his ear, staring at it with an expression of mingled
fury and alarm.

"WHO IS THIS?" he roared in the direction of the mouthpiece. "WHO ARE
YOU?"

"RON -- WEASLEY!" Ron bellowed back, as though he and Uncle Vernon were
speaking from opposite ends of a football field. "I'M -- A -- FRIEND --
OF -- HARRY'S -- FROM -- SCHOOL --"

Uncle Vernon's small eyes swiveled around to Harry, who was rooted to
the spot.

"THERE IS NO HARRY POTTER HERE!" he roared, now holding the receiver at
arm's length, as though frightened it might explode. "I DON'T KNOW WHAT
SCHOOL YOURE TALKING ABOUT! NEVER CONTACT ME AGAIN! DON'T YOU COME NEAR
MY FAMILY!"

And he threw the receiver back onto the telephone as if dropping a
poisonous spider.

The fight that had followed had been one of the worst ever.

"HOW DARE YOU GIVE THIS NUMBER TO PEOPLE LIKE -- PEOPLE LIKE YOU!" Uncle
Vernon had roared, spraying Harry with spit.