A/N: It's two thirty in the morning, and I just had to get this out of my system. Comments would be loved.
In the middle of the ocean lies a prison where only the most vile, cruel, heartless people are welcome. Once you enter this place, you can never leave. It's tenants are doomed to a soulless existence, devoid of any love or warmth. It eats at your being, your sanity – everything. It's compared to hell itself, although most people would prefer that.
This is Azkaban.
With the thundering rain pounding against the roof and the relentless waves crashing against all sides, it was hard to remember anything before. Some people here couldn't remember anything about their lives or their selves. And those were the lucky ones.
Most, however, were constantly reminded of everything that had gone wrong, of everything that had caused them pain. It drove them insane.
It suddenly got colder. Sirius could see his breath in front of him.
The dementors were back.
And he was gone.
He was six years old. Regulus was blocking the hallway. "Move over! You're blocking the way!" Sirius whispered. Mother was asleep, and waking her meant someone wasn't getting dessert. "Try to pass me!" Regulus said. Sirius tried to walk by, but his brother pushed him into a table. The family vase fell, and glass shards were everywhere. "Ouch!" His brother cried. Sirius could hear his mother's footsteps.
"Sirius! What have you done?" She screamed. Rushing to Regulus' side, she tried to calm him down. A piece of glass had injected itself into his arm. "Look – are you happy? He's bleeding! Oh, Merlin. SIRIUS ORION BLACK! Get out of my sight!"
"But Mum, he pus-"
"I don't want to hear your lies. GET OUT!"
Sirius ran out of the house and down the street. Surrounded by so many people, he had never felt so alone. That was the moment he first realized his mother didn't love him, and the moment he realized he was done trying to make her.
No. He wasn't going to let them have this control over him. His eyes fluttered open and met theirs – or rather, where theirs should have been.
They sensed his defiance. And they weren't going to let him win.
Once again, the darkness took over.
He was thirteen years old. It was his third year at Hogwarts. He watched as his brother approached the stool. Sirius knew where he would be placed. After all, he was no different from the rest of them. But deep down, he wished that Regulus would prove him wrong.
"Slytherin!" The hat yelled. The table farthest from him cheered. Regulus jumped off the stool, a giant grin plastered across his face.
As if he sensed Sirius' thoughts, he turned towards him. Their eyes connected, and they made a silent agreement.
Stay away from me.
The sneer on their faces were identical. Regulus walked towards his table.
They could feel him getting weaker, and continued pestering him.
This is what happens when you resist your masters.
He was sixteen years old. He was in love with the perfect girl.
He strutted down the hallway with James. They were on top of the world. Nothing could crush them. As they turned the corner, he saw a flash of brown hair. It was her. Sirius grinned, and prepared to call out her name.
Before he could, she ran up to a boy he recognized as a seventh year Ravenclaw. Their lips met excitedly, her hands running through his hair they way she had done to Sirius' own just that morning.
His eyes darkened as he turned back they way he had came.
"Oy, Padfoot... she wasn't worth it. She's worthle-" James began to comfort him.
"I'm fine. I was going to dump her tonight anyway," Sirius lied.
This is why he had never committed to a single girl. Some sucker was always going to end up hurt.
That he had to learn the hard way.
None of the others had ever managed to hold up this long. That was fine by them – more to devour.
He was eighteen years old. Sirius, Remus, Lily, and Peter were in the waiting room of St. Mungo's.
Lily and James had gone to retrieve a piece of equipment from the Department of Mysteries for the Order. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was after it too. He showed up himself to take it, and to kill whoever was in his way. The couple gave a good fight, until Voldemort threw an unspecified curse at Lily. James pushed her back, causing it to ricochet off the equipment and onto himself.
Both the equipment and James had been damaged.
A doctor walked into the room. "I'm afraid there's a good chance he will not make it through the night," he said sadly.
Lily screamed in despair, which was exactly what he felt like doing. James was his brother. He couldn't loose him.
Her scream would haunt him forever.
But he had lived. James had lived.
This lifted his spirits, if only slightly.
They detected this, and went in for the kill.
He was twenty one. He had jumped on his motorcycle and headed for James and Lily's house. Sirius had gotten a bad feeling. An emptiness had filled him, and he wouldn't feel better until he knew they were okay.
But he'd never get that. The house lay before him in ruin. He didn't have to go in to confirm his suspicions. They were gone. Dead.
And it was Peter's fault.
He saw a large figure emerging from the house. His hand hovered above his wand, ready to murder whoever was responsible for this.
It was Hagrid. A bundle of cloth was cradled in his arms. Harry had lived. They had protected Harry until death. He felt his heart collapse.
He tried to talk Hagrid into giving Harry to him, to which he refused. If he couldn't have Harry, the
least he could do was offer safe transportation. Dumbledore would provide a safe home.
Alone in the night, alone in the world, he set out to find the "man" who was responsible for this.
Peter.
They felt him give up. That was what they had been waiting for. The dementors continued on their patrol, ready to meet their next victim.
He was thirty-three. And he was done with Azkaban.
He would find a way out.