AN: Yes, another Abused!Harry, Free!Sirius, Guilty!Remus story, but bare with me. I've got a few tricks up my sleeve, and if you're interested, stick with me and we can ride this out together.
Triggers: Child Abuse.

Disclaimer: The world of Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling. I am making no money from this.

"History is always written by the winners. When two cultures clash, the loser is obliterated, and the winner writes the history books-books which glorify their own cause and disparage the conquered foe. As Napoleon once said, 'What is history, but a fable agreed upon?"

― Dan Brown, The Da Vinci Code

July 25th, 1986

Lighting flashed across the sky, illuminating the night sky over Number 4 Privet Drive. The thunder roared after it, echoing off of the houses, rattling the windows, and hiding the small whimpers from the small cupboard under the stairs. A little boy was curled up under the stairs, bright green eyes filled with terrified tears. The bed was only covered in a thin sheet, no blanket in site, but that was alright, because the dirty clothes he had on were large enough for him to burrow almost completely into. An alarm went off near his head, making him jump again. Reaching small, bruised hands out, he pushed the button to quiet it.

5:25 AM

Throwing his thin legs out from under the covers, Little Harry Potter struggled to open his cupboard door. The light bruises all over his body certainly didn't help the fact, and neither did his malnourished body and lack of sleep. Yet, the six year old little boy never once complained. Perhaps, it was because it was all he knew. Perhaps, it was because his Uncle had drilled it into his head that he was a worthless 'freak'. Whatever the case, Harry moved around the kitchen as he did every morning, tears on his cheeks from the storm. He was scared, but after five years here at Number 4, he knew there would be no comfort for him.

By 6 o'clock, there was bacon sizzling on the stove as the tiny child tried to keep his skin from being burned by the hot grease. Toast was buttered on the table, along with a tall glass of orange juice.

"Why the devil isn't that bacon done, boy?" Vernon Dursley growled as he stomped into the kitchen, "You're suppose to have it done by the time I wake up." Sitting his fat ass down in the chair and starting to eat, "Don't burn that bacon, boy."

"Yes, Uncle Vernon," Harry replied in a small voice, stumbling toward the table and carefully dishing the bacon onto the plate. He offered his Uncle a small smile, hoping that he'd done it right this time. Maybe his Uncle would offer him a small bit of praise like he gave to Dudley, but of course, he received none.

"Where's my coffee?" Vernon grunted, opening the newspaper that Harry had fetched from the front step for him. The big man barely even glanced at his nephew, deeming him unworthy of his time. This was routine by this point. He woke up and the little freak had his breakfast waiting for him. He left for work, leaving a long list of chores that Harry had better have gotten finished by the time he returned home. If he had, Harry would then make dinner and be given a small plate to take back to his closet. If he did not...well, at the very least, the ungrateful brat would have no dinner, "My coffee better be in my hand in the next five seconds, boy."

"Yes, Uncle Vernon," Harry squeaked, rushing to the coffee pot. How could he have forgotten? Pouring the scalding liquid into the glass with trembling hands, a bit of the liquid hit his hand, burning his already scarred hands. Stepping toward the table, thunder rocked the house again. In an instant, the cup was falling from little hands, crashing against the floor and shattering on bare feet, "I-I-I'm s-sorry, sir!" The little boy was already cringing away as the large man shoved the chair back, rage in his eyes.

"You worthless piece of shit!" Vernon raged, hatred burning in his eyes as he raised his fist. The storm covered the sounds of fists pounding against soft flesh, and the cries of a little boy who only wanted to be loved.

7: 23 AM

Storms at Azkaban Prison were an exciting time for the mangy mutt pacing back and forth in his cell. Screams and moans and curses filled the halls, occasionally drowned out by the thunder. Dementors roamed the halls, keeping everyone in check, and aiding in the bone-cold shivers that reigned over everyone imprisoned within the already cold stone walls.

Reason number one-hundred and fifty seven why Sirius was grateful to be a dog. The animagus went back to his corner, gazing down at the newspapers that he'd had smuggled in for himself. They kept him sane, or as sane as anyone could be in this place. Perhaps he was only pushing off the inevitable, but Sirus Black had a reason to preserve, and that reason was the fact that out in the world, the person who had murdered his best friends was living. Someday...he would figure out how to avenge them.

With that thought in mind, he never expected visitors. His friends were dead or believed him to be a murderer of the worst kind. Who would visit him? His answer came when he saw a man standing at the edge of his cell door.

"Black," A cold voice sneered, "Is it really wise to be a dog?"

Sirius Black was a man a second later, bark like laughter spilling over rotting teeth, "Severus Snape," he rocked himself, still in the throes of laughter, "Have they invented a new form of torture for me? Sending greasy-"

"If you want to insult the man who has come to be your liberation, I can turn around and leave right now," Snape threatened coolly as another figure stepped around him. Now, Sirius fell silent, his eyes locked on the second man. All laughter was gone from his face, any color that may have been there, drained away.

"Remus."

Remus Lupin looked older than he had when Sirius had seen him last. He was thinner with more wrinkles around his eyes and mouth. When his amber eyes rested on his old friend, Remus was filled with pain. Nodding his head ever so slightly, the wolf took a breath, "Hello, Sirius, ready to go home?"

"I don't even remember what home is, Remmy," Sirius confessed from the back of his cell, swallowing hard, "Were you serious when you said you'd come to liberate me, Snivellus? Or are you just being cruel?" His answer came in the form of the cell opening. For a moment, all he could do was stare at the open doorway. The only thing that had kept him from freedom for nearly five years, "Did you find the Rat?"

There was another clap of thunder, followed by more screams from the prisoners. Severus and Remus remained silent for a moment, and it weighed heavily on all three men. The tension was thick enough to cut with a knife. Remus was finally the one to end it, walking into the cell and holding his hand out to Sirius, "Yes, but he got away. Let's get you out of here, Padfoot."

Another heavy moment passed, but then Sirius accepted the hand that had been offered to him, "Harry? Where is Harry? Do you have him? The Rat can't get to him, can he?" He stumbled against his old friend, shoulders shaking as relief flowed through him. Freedom. He was going to be free.

"In due time, Black. For now, I think we should get out of here before the dementors decide to feast on what may or may not be left of your soul." Severus interrupted, lip curled up in disgust at the site before him. Obviously, he felt he had better places to be.

Sirius growled, but held fast onto his friend. Without another word, the trio made their way from the eery and painful prison halls. Sirius was in a daze as the wizard guards at the front presented him with his clothing and his wand. The entire process seemingly a dream to a man who believed that his entire life would be spent in hiding. Exhaustion hit as soon as the malnourished, abused man stepped out of the building into the fresh air which smelled of the storm that had just finished. The sun was peeking through the clouds as Sirius Black, the free man, sunk to his knees, unconscious before he felt Remus's arms keeping his head from bashing off a rock.

9:00 AM

Remus Lupin was a simple man, and he had been made even more so over the past five years. After the death of two of his best friends, followed immediately by the 'murder' and incarceration of his remaining two friends, the werewolf had gone into isolation. Of course he had attempted to get custody of Harry, but with his condition, and for some reason, Albus Dumbledore's insistence that Harry be sent to live with his blood-relations, Remus hadn't stood a chance. Living in this small cottage, Remus made his living as a tutor to young witches and wizards whose families weren't prejudiced enough to condemn him.

Amber eyes flicked toward his couch where a man he believed had been a traitor less than twenty-four hours before was still sleeping. Remus watched Sirius's concave chest rise and fall easily, his mangy hair hanging in his face. Grief at the time lost between them gnawed at his heart. Guilt that he hadn't trusted Sirius to never to betray James and Lily tying his stomach in knots.

"Peter? But, you're dead!" Remus shouted, eyes wide at the small man who was crouched down behind a bush. The rat man had looked up in alarm, stuttering Remus's name before trying to bolt away, but it was too late. The damage had been done. It wasn't only Remus in that park, and the moment enough people had verified the story, everyone knew that the wrong man had been imprisoned. Remus had run right to Dumbledore, who had pulled the strings to get Sirius out of the Hell of a prison. Of course, he would have his trial now, but until then, he would be staying with Remus; a free man.

"If you stare any harder, your eyes are going to fall out of your head, Remmy," Sirius mumbled, his eyes still closed. Immediately, Remus was out of the chair, moving toward the raven haired man. Before kneeling down, he pulled some vials out of his robes, helping Sirius up before practically shoving the contents down his old friend's throat.

"What the bloody hell was that?" Sirius coughed, wiping his mouth with a dirty sleeve. Grey eyes rose to meet Remus's gaze, finding the other man's eyes filled with guilt. Somehow, Sirius could not find it in himself to try and make it disappear.

"Severus brewed them for you, Sirius. They're potions to help with your malnutrition as well as any injuries you hav-"

"Snivellus brewed them? What if the snake poisoned me, Remus? Since when do we accept potions from Death Eaters?" Sirius barked, tempted to rush toward the sink and expunge the potions, but that would require too much movement, and damn it, he was in pain.

"Snape isn't a Death Eater, Sirius," Remus sighed, gently pushing his friend back down, "You need to rest. Your body isn't strong yet. No one could be after five years in that place." The wolf insisted, meeting his friend's eyes, his own full of regret, "I should have known, Sirius. I should have realized that you would never betray our friends. I was lost in grief, and I was a coward." It was all said in a breath, like a leak in a balloon that just couldn't be stopped. Remus didn't realize there were tears on his cheeks until Sirius reached up to brush them away with trembling fingers.

Sirius wanted to be angry. He wanted to scream and hit something, but as he looked at his friend, he knew that it wasn't just Azkaban that broke people. Grief and guilt were more oppressive than even the dementors. At least for Sirius, he had known that he was innocent. There had been a purpose for his continued existence: Get the Rat. Get Harry. For Remus, it seemed as if he'd had nothing to keep him going over the years.

After a moment of silence, Sirius finally let Remus ease him back onto the couch. He had to admit that the wolf was accurate enough about his body. There was an ache in his bones that he didn't think would ever go away entirely, but it was nothing compared to the gaping wound in his mind and heart, "It's in the past now, isn't it?" The shaggy haired man muttered, avoiding Remus's gaze. Forgiveness must be earned, and Sirius wasn't sure he'd ever actually be able to let go of this discretion completely, as much as it pained him to realize. Some mistakes simply could not be fixed, "Where is Harry? If you don't have him, who does?"

Remus forced himself away from Sirius's side, his chest feeling as if something very sharp and hot had been shoved through it. He didn't know what he'd expected, but it had been worse than this. At least the other man wasn't shutting him out completely. At the question, he lifted a hand to his head, letting out another very long breath. Sirius wasn't going to like his answer.

Next Chapter: Dumbledore has been ignoring the signs, and a desperate mother will do anything to make sure her son is safe.