Disclaimer: I own nothing the characters belong to J.K. Rowling, and Rheanna

thought up the prank.

Dedication: This fic is dedicated to my fantastic beta Rheanna, not only did she

fret out my grammar and punctuation (that gives my English teacher nightmares) 

she also made sure Sirius sounded like an Englishmen instead of a teenager from

Washington State :) Thanks again Rheanna!

I was staring at a crack in the floor. Nice crack. Anything to keep the coldness

from washing over me as a dementor floated pass.

Dementors only understand two emotions. Happy and sad. Like a tap.

Bemused and bored thoughts confuse them.  Their confusion seemed to give me a

reprieve, so I focused on the crack.

I leaned my chin on my hand, elbow propped up on my knee. It was a jagged

zigzag like a bolt of lightening, like that fresh cut on Harry's forehead. He

looked so helpless when I lifted him from the rubble, his parents just a few

feet away. James, his head at an unnatural angle, Lily, her green eyes wide and

still wet with tears.

I shook my head hard. Remembering like that wasn't helping me. I thought of

James and Lily and it turned to thoughts of Peter, which slid into thoughts of

revenge, which caused me to make more cracks in the wall. I had the scars on my

knuckles to show for my decorating skills.

I wondered how this one formed. I traced it back to a larger vault. It must have

spider webbed.

I should have become a spider, I thought bleakly, Then, I could get out of here.

"Guys I can't do it! It's just too hard!!"

"Peter, you're trying to hard."

"James is right, chill out, you'll get it."

"Yeah, we know you have a rat in there just waiting to get out."

We had laughed. James, if you only had known! If I only had known! I shouldn't

have suggested-

I got up and started pacing. C'mon, Sirius, you can do this! I told myself

severely.  It wasn't that long ago you kept them at bay by reciting the twelve

uses of dragon's blood!

I sat cross-legged in front of it. It didn't look old... then again how can you

judge the age of a crack? Oh well… I fancied it wasn't over five years.

With a jolt I realized I had been here for five years, five years since... stop

it!

That would make Harry six, right? Good boy, Sirius, you can still do math! I

told myself dryly.

It hurt to think how much time I'd lost, and how much more I stood to lose. In

no time he'd be getting his Hogwarts letter.

I smiled without thinking, remembering my own days at Hogwarts.

How many close shaves James and I had exploring the grounds for more passages…

When we found the one in the witch's hump in out second year I had nearly gotten

us caught. We were under the Invisibility Cloak when I banged my knee into the

old hag; I yelled a curse before I could stop myself, but luckily James put a

hand over my mouth just as Professor Chancey, the old head of Slytherin house

and Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, strode down the hall holding what

looked like a cheese Danish.

When the coast was clear we climbed into the passage and started down the

winding path. When we finally saw where it led, we thought we'd died and gone to

Heaven! We had boldly gone where no second year had gone before- Honeydukes, the

sweet shop! Over the next hour or so we stuffed ourselves, eating Every Flavor

Beans, daring each other to eat the questionable ones. We carefully avoided the

Pepper Imps and Ice Mice, anything that could somehow in any shape or form

incriminate us. That was all we needed – for Serevus Snape to notice our teeth

squeaking. It's a wonder we made it back to school that night - we should have

been in a sugar coma.

Coldness began to creep over me – a dementor had sensed my happy memory.

I saw the empty orderly hideout of Wormtail.

I saw the smoldering remains of James and Lily's house.

"No, no, no, no!" I repeated over and over again in a half whisper as I walked

around the ruins. My knees gave and I crumpled. Beside me I heard a cry. Stunned

I lifted my godson from the ground.

I gave up and passed out on my cot.

"Sirius."

I jerked awake and there, standing at the foot of my cot, was James, looking

exactly as he did the night I told them to use Peter.

"Ohhh," I moaned, "this is the first step, isn't it? I'm going crazy, I'm going

to be singing the Sorting Song in my sleep soon!"

"Padfoot, you're dreaming."  He said with a half smile and the tone of voice

that was reserved for when I was over reacting.

I cocked my head to one side. "How?"

He sat down on the end of the bed as I sat up "I'm dead; I can do what I want."

The over whelming feeling of guilt I had been feeling since that night five

years ago came flooding over me, and I felt my eyes mist over with tears. "I'm

so sorry, James." I said putting my hand to my eyes.

He put his hand on my shoulder "What are you sorry about?"

"It's my fault." I said, shaking my head.

"How the hell do you figure that?" he asked sounding surprised. "You didn't go

to Voldemort, you didn't blow up that street!"

"I asked you to use Peter; it's my fault."

"You did what you thought was best, you had no way of knowing; Peter had us all

fooled."

"I should have seen through him, James."

"Padfoot, stop kicking yourself."

I sighed and leaned back "I can't handle this place, Prongs; I'm slipping, I can

feel it."

He shook his head, that old half smile playing around his mouth "Sirius Black, slipping? You're doing great; just hang on.

Harry's going to need you as time goes by, you need to keep that gray matter in

working order."

This was the last thing I expected "With what? Not to mention how I can't be any

help to anyone!"

"It'll work out, man, I swear." The last time I had seen that look of

determination was when Remus had expressed the opinion that sneaking out to

vandalize the Slytherin common room two days after Flinch took the Marauder's

map, without the Invisibility Cloak while most of the staff were on guard (a

unexpected side effect from our last prank) wasn't exactly the  brightest idea

we'd come up with.

I gave him a doubtful look.

"Have I ever steered you wrong?" he demanded in mock offence.

"There was this one time-"

"That was a rhetorical question. Trust me!"

"How do you know all this?"

He smiled "I'm dead; I can do what I want."

I even managed a half smile.

"Look Sirius, I have to go."

We embraced quickly and he placed both hands on my shoulders "You're innocent,

Padfoot, you did nothing wrong, remember that." He got up. "That'll be a lot

more effective then staring at a crack in the floor."

"Thanks Prongs."

He smiled and winked, then faded out.

I woke up. "I'm innocent," I whispered.

I faced the crack. "I'm innocent." You know, this might work.

End