Disclaimer: The Harry Potter world belongs to JK Rowling…'twas not I that made Sirius' life a living hell!

The slightest hint, the merest trace of a breeze drifts tauntingly across my face and I rush toward the prison bars, hungry for more. I look out into the never-ending darkness through grey eyes misted over with misery and bitterness, rimmed with black prison muck. Suddenly, there is a blinding flash of light which knocks me back into my dank cell with my hands clamped over my burning eyes. My cell welcomes me back into its filthy arms, fingers of mud creeping down my throat, suffocating me. I feel my sanity slipping away from me and I grit my teeth against it. I know I cannot give in to the madness. For I have a promise to keep….and I have blood to spill.

My name is Sirius Black. I sit here, an innocent man, imprisoned for a crime I did not commit. But this crime is not any ordinary crime…it is murder and treason. I have been accused and convicted of betraying my country. I have been accused of betraying my dearest friend, my brother James and his beautiful wife Lily. I have been damned to rot in living hell for the murder of a man whom I once called "friend". My life turned on its head, all in one night. A night even blacker than this one…

Sirius transformed into his dog self, feeling more comfortable on his four padded feet, letting the troubles and thoughts of his human self seep away and drinking in the glory of having thoughts as simple as a dog's. He shook his silky ears once, making sure that every part of him had completely transformed. Finally satisfied, he padded along the edge of the street, listening to the deep silence of the night. The only light came from the street lights and the moon above, giving the road a strange mottled effect. He turned a corner, avoiding the dangerous looking stray dogs that growled warningly at him as he passed. He stopped in the middle of the road, unsure what he wanted to do. He could go home, of course, but…oh, that was it, he would go see Wormtail. The poor guy was probably in need of company.

Sirius smiled to himself. He was pretty proud of the idea he had come up with concerning the change of Secret Keeper, choosing Peter instead of himself. His reasons had been logical and he was convinced that he had ensured the safety of his dearest friends, that he had kept his promise to James in making sure that he did his best to keep their little son safe. Peter had, of course, been terrified but he, Sirius, had assured him that there was nothing to worry about. Why would Voldemort bother coming after someone like Peter? Though Sirius loved his little friend dearly, he had to acknowledge that he was no great wizard.

He swaggered casually down the street and, after a few minutes, turned into the little Muggle village named Godric's Hollow. He padded up to the village square, then, with an odd cracking noise that was the sound of his bones popping into place, transformed back into his human self. Pushing long hair out of his eyes, he looked around him. From this position he could see, amongst other buildings, the post office and pub. If he was correct, he needed to take that little road down there…or was it that other one? Sirius sighed.

Little villages… he thought, snorting derisively.

After much deliberation he chose the road to his immediate right. Luckily, he was successful; in next to no time, he had reached Peter's front door. The cottage in which Peter stayed had previously belonged to Sirius himself. It was less than 5 minutes walk from the Potters', small and unremarkable, making it a perfect hiding place for a Secret Keeper.

Sirius knocked three times – the agreed signal. There was no response. Frowning, he tried again. Utter silence. He shivered as fear and worry seeped through him like poison. Why was Peter not answering? His anxiety getting the better of him, he blasted the door open and stepped inside, wand held at arm's length, pointed straight in front of him.

'Wormtail? Where are you, mate?' he called, his keen eyes scanning the room. The house was deserted but everything lay in its proper place and there was no sign of a struggle. That was odd. Sirius walked out of the house and lifted his eyes to the roof – there was no Dark Mark hanging above it. He breathed a sigh of relief, yet his frown did not disappear. For, if Peter had not been kidnapped…where was he? He had been instructed by Dumbledore not to leave the house under any circumstances and Sirius knew that Peter would obey. He was no risk-taker.

A sudden ground-shaking sound rent the air, so loud that Sirius had to clap his hands over his ears to stop their drums from bursting. Eyes streaming, ears throbbing, he sprinted down the road in the direction of the noise. He was running so fast that he did not even notice where he was going. Finally, he jerked to a stop in front of a tall brick house. He looked up and, to his horror, saw huge chunks of stone and brick explode from its upper storey. Only then did he realize what he was seeing. It was the house in which James and Lily lived.

He felt a cold sweat break over his entire body as he vaulted over the front gate. The front door hung off its hinges and he hurtled straight into the house, panting heavily. His eyes fell to the floor and it took at least a minute for him to realize what he was seeing. And then it hit him.

'No. No …' he screamed. It was as though someone had emptied a bucket of ice cold water over his head. For there on the floor, sprawled across the carpet, lay the limp, lifeless body of James Potter. His glasses were cracked and blood-spattered, his lips slightly parted. His hazel eyes were still open, yet glazed over. Sirius fell to his knees beside his friend, trembling, his face whiter than the dead man before him. He touched James's face and felt its coldness. Hot tears poured down his cheeks as he drew his friend close to him, cradling his head in his arms.

'Wake up, Prongs. Wake up …please, please wake up…' he murmured over and over again. He stared into his friend's eyes searching for some inkling of life in them. But it was hopeless. He was dead. Sirius tenderly let his friend's head rest on the carpet beneath him, folding his eyelids shut. He kissed his forehead, leaving sparkling drops of moisture on James' face.

Sirius got to his feet, feeling as though he was in a terrible nightmare. Nothing seemed real, his whole body felt numb. He ascended the staircase, avoiding the large chunk that had been blasted out of it. He did not look at it, though even if he had he would not have comprehended it. It was all too much to take in.

Wind whipped through his hair as he gazed at the wreckage of James and Lily's bedroom. Half the room had been blown away and bits of dust and concrete littered what remained of the floor. Upon the bed lay Lily's body, frozen in a strange, scrunched-up position. Her hands were clasped together and her green eyes were wide open. Tears still glistened on her pale cheeks. It was as though she had been begging, pleading with someone or something. She lay on her side, as though she had been carelessly tossed aside.

Sirius clutched his stomach, feeling vomit rush to his mouth and spill over his lips to the floor. He moaned softly, feeling weak. He could not even lift a hand to wipe his mouth. He thought, at that moment, that he would die of sheer grief. Then he heard the soft moan of an infant. Harry.

He was jerked back from the brink of death by this small sound. His eyes widened as he realized what he was hearing. It felt impossible, surely he was imagining it, and yet…he staggered over to a cot that lay next to the bed, heart hammering against his ribcage, and peered inside. There lay the tiny form of Harry Potter, his large green eyes wide, two miniscule hands reaching out to him.

He felt a rush of relief: Harry was alive. Somehow, by some miracle, he had survived. With shaking hands he lifted the child from the cot and pressed him to his chest. He felt the boy's heart beating wildly against his and murmured soothingly.

'It's alright, Harry. I'm here now. I'm here,' he whispered, clutching the child to him as though it was the last living thing left on Earth. He delicately wiped grime from Harry's forehead with his finger. Then only did he notice something odd. Sweeping the boy's hair away from his forehead, he beheld a thin, lightning bolt shaped gash upon it.

'What…?' he murmured, but the baby began to cry and he rocked it gently, walking slowly and steadily down the staircase. He passed James' body as he walked into the chilly night air, shielding Harry's head with a hand. His breathing was irregular, and he barely noticed the huge form of Hagrid thunder towards him seemingly out of nowhere.

'Sirius?' Hagrid boomed, his small black eyes sweeping over the wreckage. Sirius looked up at him.

'They're…gone,' he whispered tonelessly. Hagrid's eyes widened in horror; he was stunned into speechlessness. Sirius gazed vacantly around him. Tiny pinpricks of light marred the blackness of the night – obviously the locals had noticed the disturbance. Some were even creeping cautiously out of their homes to investigate. Sirius nodded slowly.

'How did Dumbledore know?' he asked. His voice was flat and calm, as though under the influence of Veritaseuram.

'The Muggles. One o' them called the…the police or summat. Dumbledore has a couple o' our people in the force – to protect 'em, y'see. But we'd never have known that You-Know-Who would…he would…'

'Find them,' Sirius finished quietly. A small frown creased his forehead.

How?

He pondered this question as Hagrid, brushing tears from his face with an enormous hand, drew an umbrella from his huge coat and waved it in the air. A silvery animal-shaped spell burst from it and disappeared into the night. A few minutes later a silver, transparent phoenix flew into view. Sirius did not hear or attempt to listen to the quiet conversation it had with the burly game-keeper.

'Sirius,' Hagrid said finally, as the phoenix dissolved into nothing behind him. 'Sirius, Harry…Dumbledore say I have teh take him.' Sirius looked up at Hagrid sharply, snapped out of his reverie. He shook his head violently, his eyes wide and red.

'No Hagrid, I'm his godfather…he's my godson…he's James's son…' he could hardly bear to speak his name. Hagrid patted his shoulder.

'I know, Sirius, but its Dumbledore's orders,' he replied softly.

'James entrusted him to me!' Sirius shouted desperately, clutching Harry tightly in his arms. The baby began to cry.

'Dumbledore's going teh take him to his family, Sirius. He says it's best fer him,' Hagrid said, though he sounded unsure.

'I can take care of him!'

'Sirius, Dumbledore says he has to, don' ask me why!' Hagrid begged. 'Look, why don' you find the others? What abou' Remus and Peter? They'll need to know…should hear it from a friend,' he added as he noticed Sirius' anger subside ever so slightly.

But Sirius had not heard him. He had only registered one word…Peter. Of course. Dumbledore had said something about a mole, about a spy. Someone would have betrayed James and Lily, and the Fidelius Charm meant that only one person could have revealed their whereabouts. It had been Peter all along. Sirius felt his sorrow replaced by hot, burning anger. It filled him up, forcing every other emotion from his body. Peter had led Lily and James to their death. Peter would pay.

'Alright, Hagrid, if Dumbledore says so,' Sirius said suddenly, placing Harry in Hagrid's huge arms. After a moment's thought, he added, 'here, take this too…I-I won't be needing it anymore.' He flicked his wand and, a moment later, there was the rumbling sound of an engine as a motorbike hurtled around the corner, coming to a sharp halt in front of him.

Hagrid looked surprised as he bundled Harry into his coat. He finally thanked Sirius, hopped onto the bike, and flew off into the sky. Sirius watched him go, and his eyes lingered on the spot where they had disappeared beyond the horizon for just a moment. Then his hand tightened around his wand, fingernails digging deep into his palm. His head felt clear, thought processes aided by pure, raw hatred. His eyes darted around for signs of Peter.

His ears pricked as he heard a sound to his right. He turned to face the noise and thought he saw a movement in the hedge before him. Just as he reached it, something small darted out from its depths. It was a rat. Sirius ran after it, chased it down an alley…straight to a dead end. He jerked to a stop, a maniacal grin of triumph spread across his face. He had cornered him.

The rat transformed into a trembling, white-faced Peter Pettigrew. His blue eyes were watery with terror as he pressed his back against the brick wall behind him, trembling with fear. Behind Sirius, Muggles were spilling out from their houses as police cars pulled into the road. No-one had even noticed the two figures in the alley. Sirius raised his wand in silence, breathing slowly. There was no need to say anything, there was nothing to say. Peter was going to die, he was going to pay. Peter's eyes darted around in terror, whimpering softly, his own wand drawn. Sirius ignored it, still grinning.

'SIRIUS! LILY AND JAMES, SIRIUS, HOW COULD YOU?' Peter screamed suddenly. Sirius's eyes widened as Peter screamed again, waving his wand in a sweeping motion across the street. There was a loud bang as an enormous wave of energy burst from Peter's wand and hit the road, sending a police car flying into the house behind it. A huge crater had formed in the road where the wave had hit it, with several people lying dead inside it. Others lay around its rim, gravely injured. Peter continued to scream as Sirius, paralyzed by shock, stared at him.

Peter glanced around him once, as though calculating something. Then, taking a deep breath, he lifted his index finger to his mouth and bit into it. Wincing in pain, he finally chewed it completely off. The next minute he had transformed into a rat and disappeared down a gutter. To Sirius, these things all happened in a matter of seconds and all he could do was stand there, frozen to the spot. Then, suddenly, his brain caught up with what his eyes had seen. An insane smile spread across his lips and he threw his head back and cackled at the sky, eyes wide with madness.

'Clever, clever, little Peter!' he screamed over and over again, laughing madly, dropping his wand. Suddenly there was a jet of light and he felt ropes wind across his body. Turning around he saw a huge group of Aurors surround him, wands pointed at his chest. The Minister himself was present, white with fright, gazing at the wreckage before him. Sirius continued to laugh as the Aurors dragged him away. Finally, one of them shouted "put him out!" and he felt something hit his head. A second later, he was engulfed by darkness.

And just like that Peter escaped, slipped from my grasp like a wisp of smoke. And where am I? I sit here in this cell, dreaming of the day when I might finally catch him. But that day will never come. I do not know where he is. He could be dead already for all I know.

A movement and small noise disturbs my thoughts, and I lift my hollow grey eyes up from the floor, see the figures of at least three Aurors and another man approach my cell. He is Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic. He looks frightened, even though I am behind bars and can do nothing to harm him. He clutches a newspaper in one hand.

'This is the prisoner Black?' the Minister asks, and the Auror to his left nods. 'How is he faring?'

'Very well, compared to countless others. I can't explain it,' the Auror replies, as though surprised by his own words. The Minister raises an eyebrow, clutching his paper tightly. I am about to turn away from them when my eye catches something on the newspaper. Could it be? No, I must have a closer look. Summoning up all my strength, I open my mouth to speak.

'Minister,' I croak steadily, keeping my voice as stable as possible. 'Minister, may I ask a favour of you? You see, it's very boring in this cell and I was wondering…I was wondering whether I might have the newspaper. I miss doing the crossword, you know.' I hope that my offhand manner has not alerted their suspicion. The Minister almost yelps in alarm; he is utterly flabbergasted by my cool behaviour. Without another word he hands me the paper and, signalling to his Aurors, scampers off.

When I am alone again, I turn the paper around and gaze at the first page. There is a picture, a photo of a family in Egypt. But this doesn't interest me…no, what grabs my attention is the boy. The younger boy with his arm around his sister and a pet rat perched upon his shoulder. A rat missing a toe.

Peter Pettigrew…found at last.

I hurriedly read through the caption. Finally, I find what I'm looking for. Peter Pettigrew is at Hogwarts. He is alive. I close my eyes and lie down in the filth of my cell, closing my eyes. Finally, I have hope. After years of stagnation, my mind begins to tick once more. All the time, I chant the same words in my mind.

He's at Hogwarts, he's at Hogwarts, he's at Hogwarts…