Author's Note: I read a really good story on here a few minutes ago, and died inside. NO SEQUEL! I know my updates are as often as hell freezing over, but with this, I feel good and not bored with it.

Anyways, I really don't want to spoil the amazing story with trying to base this story off that, but it's just stuck in my head. Apologies if this resembles any other story you've read.

Disclaimer: I promise I don't own anything written here, except for any personalities, characters, or extra details that I create. I own my plot, but I might copy some of the personality traits from the previously mentioned story. The only thing that doesn't belong to me or JK Rowling is Harry's Animagus form, which came from the really good story I just read.

What Happens In Hell

Chapter One: Azkaban

"Kiddo, you awake? Please don't have died during the night, you'll stink up the place."

Harry Potter pulled himself from his mattress, feeling lightheaded and dizzy. "Bugger," Harry called back. His godfather looked mock offended. He placed a hand over his heart. Cue pained expression.

"You wound me, Harry," Sirius breathed dramatically. "Uh, no. You're the one who plays with the sharp things you find in your cell," Harry replied, grinning a weak smile through the bars that separated the two.

Placed in Azkaban for the murder of Quirinus Quirrell in Harry's first year at Hogwarts, the boy was turning fourteen in a week and a half, and supposed to be starting his fourth year at Hogwarts just as soon. Just like Sirius, Harry never received a trial, and he could thank Fudge for that one.

Fortunately and unfortunately, depending on the perspective, Harry was placed in the next to his godfather. Fortunate because Harry gained the first person to ever love him that he remembered, and unfortunate because it meant the Dementors could torment him. This was something they did often, feeding off his abundant bad memories.

"You know, they help when you've got a terrible itch just below your shoulder blade, or when fighting off a bloodsucking leech," Sirius commented offhandedly. Harry leaned his thin frame against the wall of his cell.

"And you would know this from firsthand experience?"

"Don't ask."

Sirius studied Harry. When he'd first been dumped in the cell, the boy, obviously malnourished and small, had only been ten or fifteen pounds underweight. Now, three years later, Harry was thin as could be, like paper. Dark, almost black, bruises rested permanently beneath his eyes. His skin, almost translucent, was pale enough to be albino. Harry may have grown a few inches since he was eleven, but being nearly fourteen, he shouldn't have been about 5'4.

Then again, Sirius wasn't the loveliest rose in the garden either. Same bruises, same weight loss, same complexion-same torture. Sirius wished Harry had never been dumped here, for three years no less. He could see it was beginning to depress him.

"You can always turn into Winglet," Sirius suggested, referring to the obvious pain from the Dementors. Sirius had taught Harry how to become an Animagus to help with the effects of the Dementors the moment Harry trusted Sirius. It had taken a while, and finally, Harry transformed into a small but tough light brown bird. Sirius had instantly given Harry the nickname Winglet, and it irritated Harry to no end.

"I could, but that leaves the ability to tease you out, so I'll endure it," Harry answered jokingly. Sirius knew he was putting on his usual front to keep his godfather from worrying.

Despite years of abuse from the Dursleys, Harry had a pure gold heart that stretched a million times around the planet. He was thoughtful and loving, and as loyal as his godfather. Sirius was surprised his godson's Animagus form wasn't a dog.

"Hey, watch it. I've taken time out of my extremely busy schedule to teach your sorry arse how to protect itself," Sirius retorted. The thing with Sirius and Harry was that they could insult each other loads, and in the end, they'd love each other even more unconditionally. Most of the time, the pair laughed together, while trying to ignore the injustice being inflicted upon them. At night, Harry would wonder what had become of his best friends, Ron and Hermione, while Sirius thought of his only remaining best friend, Remus Lupin, that currently believed him to be guilty. Life never treated Harry or Sirius properly.

"You mean the busy schedule that consists of taunting Bella?"

"You need to learn to stop calling me out on my flaws? I am imperfect, believe it or not."

"Trust me, I know."

"So the puppy's got some bite, huh?"

"I don't know why you insist on calling me a puppy when I'm a very intimidating bird."

Sirius burst out laughing. "Please. My mother in her best clothing was scarier than you. You remind me of a baby owl I saw once in a pet shop in Hogsmeade. Just born weeks before. Mother spoke of how disgusting the monstrosities were," Sirius said bitterly, reminiscing on his wretched childhood.

"Sirius?"

"Yep?"

…

"Am I disgusting too?" Harry felt stupid for letting himself sound childish. Sirius could see him berating himself, and soothed him. "Harry, listen to me. You are the opposite of disgusting. The Ministry is disgusting for throwing an eleven-year-old boy in the cell next to supposed mass murderer and across from notorious bitch."

"I heard that, Black!"

"That was the purpose, cousin!"

Author's Note: I apologize that it was so short. It's 1:57 AM and I just wanna go to BED! Enjoy this! Next chapter should be up within the next few days. I don't care who reviews and who doesn't, as long as there are no flames. I've edited this from the original draft, so yeah.

-SparkledDreams