A/N: Well, this is about Sirius. This is a three part story, first with Sirius in Azkaban, then him out of Azkaban, and then when he dies.
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or anything in the books.
Part One: It's All My Fault
Cold. Dark. That's what it feels to be here, here at Azkaban. There is no happiness, no joy. That's all sucked out of you and the only thing left is dread...fear...nothing happy.
Most of the prisoners go insane, mumbling to themselves, eyes wide and always snapping from one place to another, rocking. But what about me? How come I'm not insane and mumbling and rocking?
Because I'm innocent.
I didn't kill Lily and James. I would never even betray them. I would rather die. James Potter was my best friend, almost like a brother to me. Do you think, for one second, I would betray him?
Think again.
No. I know who did and I am the only one now. The name still boils my blood and makes me want to wrap my hands around his neck...
Peter Pettigrew.
He sold them to Voldemort. He betrayed them to save his own damn self. And then he framed it all on me. But you know something? It's still my fault. It's still my fault Lily and James died. I convinced them to switch to Peter. I practically handed Voldemort the key to their house, practically invited him to kill them.
James and Lily...dead. I still don't want to believe it. They can't be dead, they just can't. But they are. Murdered by Voldemort. But their son got the best of Voldemort. But what happened to Harry Potter? Does he know about me? Does he hate me; hate me because he thinks I supposedly betrayed Lily and James?
It's cold here. Cold and empty. I have no one to talk to. I wouldn't dream of striking up a conversation with the dementors.
Back to Harry Potter. From what I hear from the other Death Eaters, they think Peter double-crossed them since Voldemort met his downfall in little Harry Potter. I saw Harry when Hagrid rescued him from the house. He had a lightening shape scar across his forehead. But the thing that astounds me is his eyes. He has Lily's eyes. And I saw the little tuft of black, untidy hair on his little head. Who knows, maybe he looks just like James. That'll be nice. If I could see him, I could almost see James again.
A dementor just passed. Wave of memories come back. The night I ran away, Bellatrix hissing at me, "You were always bound to fail. You were never good enough to be a Black." And other things. I didn't really pay attention to them; they usually played in my mind. But the one memory that scared me, that made me cringe.
When I told James and Lily to switch to Peter, so that Voldemort would fall into believing I was the Secret-Keeper. Who would believe Peter was the Secret-Keeper, that pathetic baby? Worthless scum.
I sometimes have nightmares about it. About convincing James and Lily to switch to Peter. It's all my fault. My idiotic fault. They would still be alive if it hadn't been for my pea-brain and got them killed. None of this would have happened. They would be alive and with their son. And Harry wouldn't have been deprived of parents. And I wouldn't have lost my best friend.
Sometimes I want to die. Die to be back with old Prongs, laughing and joking with him. I pray that sometimes I would, just too get rid of this pain but I've lived for about twelve years and still praying I could see old Prongs again.
I wonder how's Remus. How is he? With his whole wolf problem, only James and I were his friends. We took care of him and stayed with him while he transformed. We didn't abandoned him or betray him. But how is he? With James gone and Peter supposedly dead and me in Azkaban, how is he? Does he hate me? Probably does. Probably hates me down to my ragged clothes. Hates me because he thinks I took away all his friends. If only I could tell him the truth and tell him that I was sorry for ever suspecting him to be the spy. Yes, I thought Moony was the spy for Voldemort. Another idiotic thought of Sirius Black. I should have known a weak and pathetic thing like Peter would be the spy. Easy to manipulate and scare. Should have seen it immediately.
If only I hadn't been so keen on thinking it was Remus, if only I opened my damn eyes, I could have saved James, could have saved me from twelve years of guilt. The guilt filled me, and I knew it was my whole fault. Everything was my fault.
I wanted to pound against the walls, scream that it wasn't fair, life wasn't fair, that I was innocent. But everyone thought I was mad; what would that prove?
James...if you're listening...I'm sorry. I'm sorry. It's my fault you're dead, my fault you never knew your son. I swear to you, James, I'll make it up to you. I'll make it up to you, James. And if I ever get out of this place, I'll protect Harry. I'll protect him for you, Prongs.
I swear I will. Even If I die trying, I'll protect Harry from Voldemort and Peter. I swear, James, Prongs old buddy. I swear I will. For you.
A/N: Yes, may be a little dumb but I like it. Anyways, part two will come soon.
Please review!