A/N: The muse struck, and I stuck with it. Here's a tid bit of distraction. I was inspired when I started thinking about how different Sirius was when he was younger to when he was older. This is my take on what brought about it's change.
Sirius Black was alone. Again. He was really tired of being alone. He had spent 12 years alone in a high security cell at Azkaban Prison, and now he was alone in his own prison: Grimmauld Place, his childhood home. He was only here on Dumbledore's orders, and if he had his way, he'd get out and about. Being stuck there absolutely drove him mad. Despite that, he knew why he had to stay put, and unlike when he was younger, he didn't act on his rash urges.
When he was young, before the age of 20, he never thought things through. He was a care-free lad who did what he pleased and thought he was truly invincible. Sure, he knew of the war that was going on (he did have a brother that joined the Death Eaters), but he didn't see how it directly related to him, so he didn't bother fretting about it. He didn't live with his parents during the summers he was away from Hogwarts; he stayed with his best friend James Potter, with his other mate Remus Lupin tagging along most of the time as well. They had a blast together, pulling pranks, staying up till 4 o'clock in the morning for no reason at all, and just being friends. It was bliss.
After they had left school, the three friends had grown apart, but not lost touch. They went their separate ways. Remus went off with the Order, doing things that only werewolves could do. He couldn't hold a normal job, so it was good for him to have an organization that he could work for. Sirius stuck around more with James, but he, James, and Lily all also fought for the Order. James decided to marry his true love, Lily. Not a year after, he became a father to a son, whom they christened Harry. Sirius was dubbed to be his godfather. All were happy, despite the growing war around them.
Soon, however, things became too dangerous for the Potters. They were instructed by Dumbledore to go into hiding, which they did using the Fidelius Charm. Peter, their Secret-Keeper, betrayed them. Voldemort killed them.
Sirius, outraged and a bit mad with shock, immediately took vengeance out on his "friend." The coward faked his own death, leaving Sirius in the aftermath of an "explosive curse" with 13 Muggles dead. He had no where to go, and he knew if he ran it would end up worse, so he just let the Aurors catch him. He laughed, for he knew, he knew, that one day he would get the revenge he craved.
This led to the 12 years he spent in the worst place on Earth. If he wasn't an Animagus – unregistered, of course – he probably wouldn't have survived it. He would have slowly rotted away, his mind left with its darkest memories, only able to feel depression and worthlessness. He had actually seen that happen to the less fortunate.
Sirius had never got the trial he deserved. When he was dragged there by the Aurors, he was never retrieved to appear in court. While that was unjust, it didn't bother Sirius all that much. He was past the point of caring.
Then, one day when the Minister was making his (pointless) yearly rounds of the Prison, he came into Sirius's cell. As he always did when outsiders were around the place, Sirius was in his human form. The Minister, at the time a pompous man named Fudge, came in and chatted with Sirius for a bit. Sirius tried to appear calm, not like a murderer. He even asked for a paper; he had lost track of the date a long while back, and he wanted to get an idea of what time it was in the real, functioning world. That's when things went down hill.
Sirius saw Wormtail, the traitor who was the reason his best friend was dead and the reason he had been stuck with all the dementors around. Anger bubbled up inside of him, threatening to take hold. Then, if things could get worse, the dementors were calling Fudge out of the cell; the boat that would take him back to civilization had come. With them around, Sirius was drained. Fudge had let him keep the paper, saying it wouldn't matter.
He tucked it inside his thin robe and transformed. He curled up in the far corner of his cell, thinking about what he could do to break out. It would be a first, and that knowledge didn't thrill him. He yawned, and rolled over. Sleep soon crashed over him, and that was one of the last things he remembered from his time in Azkaban.
What is he doing? Sirius had thought as he saw his godson, Harry Potter, stumbling over his trunk after unintentionally calling the Knight Bus. Sirius had spent more time as a dog recently than a human, and his appearance reflected that. When he had escaped his hair was long, well past his elbows, and he was horribly emaciated. His dog-self had shaggy, matted fur, and his ribs were very visible. His eyes were sunken in, even as a dog, and they had a glazed look to them no matter what mood he was in.
He hadn't been stalking Harry. He was just interested in what had happened to him. That was the first sight he had of him since James and Lily had died. Harry didn't look too great to him. Harry was thin himself, and he seemed to be running away, as if he was unhappy. It wasn't until later, after he had a chance to sit down and talk to Harry, that Sirius learned of his hard childhood and why he did the things he did that night.
One of Sirius's favorite memories was knowing that his name was clear, even if in so few eyes. Harry knew he was innocent, and that was enough for him. Of course, he didn't try to convince anyone else otherwise. He moved back into that god-awful house of his family, and he was put in another prison. But this time it was purely mental.
He was finished reflecting on what brought him to his location: alone in Grimmauld Place. He thought on what effect that had on him.
When he was younger, he was rash, and indecisive. He never thought things through, and he lived in the moment. Now, he saw that he wasn't quite the same person. He realized that he wasn't invincible; he could die, and he would some day.
Having Harry around reminded him of his glory days, but he relived them in a new light. He rather thought himself more like a parent than a kid this time around. Harry also reminded him of James. And Lily. Harry looked exactly like James, except for his eyes, but his personality was closer to that of Lily's. Seeing Harry with his friends also made Sirius think more.
He wanted to be that father figure that Harry needed, that he deserved. Harry was wrongly orphaned, and Sirius knew that James and Lily never would've left Harry alone in this world if they had a choice in the matter. So Sirius wanted to try and guide his some what angsty godson. Sirius found that what he said had more substance than something he would've said when he was young.
And reflecting on this, Sirius was genuinely surprised. He hadn't realized what had happened to him. Nor had he realized when these changes took place.
I guess this is one of those circumstances that creep up on you; changes that you didn't notice when they were happening, but you realized when you looked back. Sirius thought. Like someone's hair. You don't recognize when it gets long, you just know what they look like day by day. Then, you look at a picture from a few months ago and you realize "Oh, their hair's grown longer!" Those same changes can and do happen in a person's personality and character. You don't always realize it, but people are always changing, and this is no exception.
Sirius jumped when someone came in through the Floo. "Remus! Merlin's pants you scared me!"
"Merlin's pants?" Remus stopped to ask. Then he went on into the kitchen. "What kind of food do we got in here?"
"The normal kind." Sirius replied, following. "Why?"
"Molly wants to have everyone over here for the holidays, claiming it'd be safer than trying to get you moved to the Burrow."
"Everyone?"
"Yes. The Order, the kids, everyone." Remus looked over at Sirius.
"Well, that's good. I didn't want to be alone for the holiday season." Sirius smiled, a full blown smile, and his face was restored for a moment to its former elegance and handsomeness. He wouldn't be alone, at least for a little while.
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