A/N - Okay, this is my Harry Potter Fanfiction which I began a while ago. I haven't finished it yet but I know the plotline, so its just a case of writing the rest. Set during the time of the Marauders and is told from multiple POVs. Again, each chapter will make it very clear whose POV it will be. It is mainly told one from one particular person's perspective which is my own character. Give it a read if you will, and review me if you enjoy it.

Rating - M ( for a reason) - Langauge and mature scenes later on in the story. I cannot be held responsible if you are younger and you read this story. It isn't too bad, but you have been warned.

Okay warnings and jazz over.

Disclaimer - I do not own Harry Potter or any of its characters, except my won characters whom I created. Read & Review please :)

PROLOGUE

Without a soul,
My spirit's sleeping somewhere cold,
Until you find it there and lead it back
Home.

Dark. Grey. Hollow.

Nothing.

Nothing but a single stir from the late summer breeze that wafted so gently through the small open window above the cell, could not possibly even begin to clear the air of such monstrosities. Such monstrosities that some innocent individual had been forced to see. To bear witness to. To be punished for. And he was one of only very many before him.

Evil.

*Wake me up inside*

Along the darkened corridors leading to the cells, a number of hooded figures surrounded it. Guarded it for all they were possibly worth, which in this man's own personal opinion, was very little. A flicker of fear aroused his face as he saw one. Two. Three of them glide past his cell.

He was used to it by now, that feeling of pure emptiness, which he had never been used to until he landed here. Into this hellhole, this mere prison.

But no matter how much he was used to this feeling, and he often expected it, it did still not detract his singular fear of hatred; the corruption which had tried to take over his mind from time to time, trying to lead him to destruction. It was something that he had tried to place at the back of his thoughts for some time now.

Hope was the only thing that would even contemplate this poor man from taking his life all of twelve years ago. It was not the hope that he would be reunited with the woman he loved or the child she had bore for him; he was thinking far past that. She was gone now. They both were. Actually, three of them to be more precise, and even though he had never gotten over that fact, he knew he would grieve at the appropriate time.

That time was not now, but by goodness it was drawing close.

Ever so close. He could feel it.

So close it was within his grasp.

*Now that I know what I'm without,
You can't just leave me.
Breathe into me and make me real.
Bring me to life. *

No.

His mind was thinking outside of a whole new box.

He was eager and willing, as he closed his hands tightly together, almost tearing the photograph he held in his hand. The only reminder of his former self, and what was his life. The only woman who believed his innocence. The only woman who had ever loved him. The only woman he had ever loved back.

Stolen.

Time had stolen her from him. Death had taken her. He had killed her.

Frustration. Anger overcame him in that sudden moment as he collected his thoughts.

*Wake me up inside.
Wake me up inside.
Call my name and save me from the dark.
Bid my blood to run*

He wanted to kill the man that put him here.

The man that had taken everything he had.

The man who had stolen his life away from him without a second glance.

He knew he was out there somewhere; it was just a case of finding him.

He wanted to fulfill the deed he was imprisoned for.

The deed he never managed to complete.

The bastard.

Betrayer

Murderer.

The corridor echoed as the sound of a key turning in the door swept through the cells. The man raised his head up, alert as usual, however slower than what he used to be in a previous time.

Footsteps...

Closer. Closer. Closer.

It was time.

A figure approached the man's cell. A broad man with a almost perfect upright stance, arms held directly by his side, holding something. He looked like a man of deep authourity; something that the prisoner recognised almost instantly.

"BLACK!" the man said gruffly as he addressed the prisoner directly. Cornelius Fudge, Minister Of Magic stood before the prisoner; his eyes peering through the bars, a look of disgust on his face. Cornelius was no stranger to Azkaban as he visited often for inspection. The prisoner knew that was the biggest load of hippogriff shit that had ever graced the planet. Fudge only ever inspected Azkaban so he could gloat at these people for what they were.

Sinners, Thieves, Rapists, Murderers.

Some, even innocent. But once you were thrown into Azkaban, there was no such thing as innocence.

You were scum as far as anybody else was concerned.

He held out a small object. Not so much a package, but a neatly rolled up parchment, tied together delicately with a piece of string. He handed it through the bars to the prisoner, being careful and hesitant. Well, he was being faced with a murderer after all.

Or so he thought.

The prisoner accepted the parchment with great eagerness, and no hesitation; he almost snatched it like a dog would with a play toy. He bid Cornelius Fudge farewell, as he exited the cell.

The prisoner sunk back against the wall of the cell. He reached into a box that laid beside him, where he kept the most precious things he had, which indeed was very little. He opened it and pulled out a letter. It was aged and ripped in places, and his emotions struck his heart, not like any emotion he had endured before.

This one was different.

He rummaged through what little possessions he had, until he found what he was looking for. He brought the crumpled cigarette to his mouth, lit it with match, and sucked hard on the filter. He removed the string from the parchment and threw it to one side. With the cigarette still in his mouth he opened the parchment, revealing the title: The Daily Prophet. He opened the newspaper eagerly, he wasn't sure what he was looking for, but anything to satisfy his curiosity about the outside world had to be worth something.

He flicked through the pages, taking advantage of the satisfaction he was receiving from the cigarette, and then blowing the smoke that exited from his mouth into the space above him. He choked a few times, mainly because his throat was so badly damaged. He continued to flick through the paper until he spotted something that caught his eye. An article. A picture. A family. A family that were in Egypt. It was only once he had he examined it further that he saw it.

He saw it plain as the day. It hit him like a big white Knight bus. Not a bad feeling, oh no. A very good feeling. He had found what he had been looking for.

Finally.

*All of this sight,
I can't believe I couldn't see
Kept in the dark
but you were there in front of me*

He couldn't believe what he was seeing. He could not see how it could be, but it was. No mistake. It was him.

He placed the cigarette back into his mouth, pressing his lips together around it, inhaling the smoke, before releasing it out again. A curved smile appeared at the corner of his mouth. Finally, after all those years of wondering, it was all beginning to come together. His plan would be put into action. Twelve long, desolate years.

Well no more.

He had lost track of time so often, he found he could never think straight. However, that did not bother him one bit. Somehow, he would makeup for lost time. God would make time for him. He was so sure. He was not going to let this opportunity pass him by so simply and so freely.

He had made that mistake once before.

"Sirius...please...You must understand…I did not mean too. I swear. You have no idea what he is capable of. Such dark and dangerous magical qualities. What would you have done you were me?"

"I would have DIED! Died knowing that I did not betray my friends. Died with a guilt-free conscience. Something you unfortunately will not be doing…"

"Sirius please…I am sorry..."

"Well being sorry doesn't bring James and Lily' lives back does it! YOU COWARD!"

A flash of green light stunned the scene, and the sound of a cackling laugh echoed…

*I've been sleeping a 1000 years it seems.
I've got to open my eyes to everything.
Without a thought
Without a voice
Without a soul
Don't let me die here.
There must be something more*

The prisoner jolted up in his bed.

Dreams. Such funny things.

He looked down, and saw the newspaper on the floor and realised it was not a dream. He had not dreamt this. It was real. He looked around trying to find some source of light. He found a broken match and managed to light it. He picked up the letter he had taken out of the box earlier and turned to the last page.

"Blood will be shed, innocence granted and justice served.

Your faith will make you well.

Do not lose face, my love…"

Those last few lines lingered in his mind. He couldn't rid of them, nor would he dream too. This was his hope. The only hope. Suddenly as if by magic, the prisoner closed his eyes, and four words that he had heard so often on his dreams, echoed through his mind as a reminder of what he left and lost.

"I'll wait for you"

And now..

The waiting was over..

Save me from the nothing I've become.

Bring me to life.