Chapter One: Then and Now
Now - Azkaban Prison
The worst part about Azkaban prison, at least in Sirius Black's opinion, was that you never quite got used to the cold. Every day it simply grew worse and worse. A small, detached, part of him knew that it was the Dementor's influence, and that it was a spiritual coldness rather than a physical one, but in the grand scheme of things, that fact did not particularly matter. His animagus form offered a small shred of comfort, but only enough that he felt it all the worse when he retook his human shape. He curled tighter into the thin, straw-stuffed pallet that served as his bed, tucking his nose under his tail, and thought about Harry.
His godson would be turning seven soon, if he was keeping track of the days correctly. Sirius wondered what the boy would be like now- whether his hair still stuck up like feathers like James's had, and if hs eyes had stayed green like Lily's. He had read somewhere that children's looks could change drastically as they grew up, and he ached to think about how much he had missed, and how much he was going to miss. He liked to imagine Harry as a miniature James, adventurous and fearless, maybe living with Remus and driving the werewolf crazy with his shenanigans.
He wondered what Remus would tell the boy about his godfather, if he told him anything at all.
Thinking about Remus hurt even more than thinking about Harry, because that involved coming to terms with the fact that his best friend thought him capable of James and Lily's murder. But then again, you thought him capable of the same betrayal. A mocking voice in the back of his head reminded him. This is your fault, and your fault alone. You trusted Peter when you should have trusted Remus, and you were suspicious of Remus when you should have suspected Peter. You have done nothing to earn his forgiveness.
No, he could never earn Remus' forgiveness, but as long as Remus had Harry and Harry had Remus- as long as the broken remains of his family had each other, then he could live with the horrific coldness of Azkaban. He deserved it anyways- even death would be a mercy that he didn't deserve.
A low groan escaped from his canine vocal chords as he was pulled from his melancholy thoughts by the approaching sound of footsteps. It took his foggy mind a moment to comprehend why that was so important, and he barely managed to shift back to his human form before the Aurors reached his cell. Kingsley Shacklebolt looked at him with open disgust, and his younger partner- a man that Sirius had never seen before, watched them with guarded curiosity.
"Kingsley." Sirius greeted the Order member cordially, cringing internally when his voice cracked from disuse.
"Black." Kingsley's voice held no trace of warmth.
"What brings you to these parts?" Sirius asked amiably after an uncomfortable pause. The younger auror unlocked the cell door.
"Get up." Shacklebolt growled. Sirius obeyed, unresisting as cold metal manacles were snapped around his wrists.
"Are we going somewhere?" He asked as the was lead down the deserted hallway. Kingsley glared at him out of the corner of his eye, but did not respond. "I haven't been sentenced to The Kiss, have I? I'm pretty sure that I would have at least been notified of such a thing ahead of time."
"Sir-" The younger auror piped up.
"Quiet, Jones." Kinsley snapped. "You're not being told where we are going, Black. I see no reason to give you any information that you could use to escape."
Sirius sighed slightly. Of course. In their minds he was a sycophantic mass murderer. Sometimes he forgot that he alone knew the exact nature of his crime; that he was not in Azkaban for his stupidity, he was there for Peter's betrayal.
The boat ride to shore was rough and windy, and by the time they once again reached land he was completely and utterly soaked. An entire team of aurors were waiting for them on the beach, which allowed Kingsley and Jones the opportunity to cast drying charms on themselves while Sirius climbed out of the small wooden dingy. They didn't bother to cast one on him, leaving him wet and shivering.
"Don't try anything." Kingsley hissed as another auror produced an old, battered top hat to use as a portkey. Sirius resisted the urge to roll his eyes and braced for the unpleasant tug below his navel, all the while wondering where they could possibly be going. It wasn't like the ministry allowed for appeals of sentencing.
Then - Private Drive
"Why did you ever agree to keep that waste of space, Petunia?"
Harry curled as far into himself as the dark, cramped cupboard allowed him to. The blowup had been coming for weeks now, and to be honest the boy was surprised that it had taken this long. If only Dudley hadn't decided to throw rocks at Uncle Vernon's car while Harry was working in the garden, or Uncle Vernon's company wasn't in the middle of downsizing, or Harry lived with people who didn't completely and utterly despise him, then maybe this wouldn't be happening.
"I told you before, Vernon. I told you what would happen if those freaks found out that we had gotten rid of him." Aunt Petunia's voice was cold and firm, unwavering against Uncle Vernon's rage.
"I will not keep that boy under my roof another day, Petunia." Vernon's voice was slurred from the whiskey that he had been drinking for a week straight. "You don't have to tell them. We can just say that he wandered off. It happens."
"Vernon." Petunia was interrupted by a loud crash from upstairs. Harry heard his aunt's quick, clipped footsteps on the stairs and Dudley's muffled wailing. Uncle Vernon's company was having trouble, and while Harry didn't quite understand the details he knew that the Dursleys were not going to have as much money as they used to and they had to cut back on spending. So far, that had resulted in Dudley not getting any new video games for a month, and a distinct cut back in sweets and cakes in the house. Vernon had been muttering for weeks that Harry cold be one of those expenses that they cut back on, and the situation had finally come to a head. Harry was terrified.
Where would he go? How would he eat, or go to school, or anything without the Dursleys' charity? He knew how dependant he was on them for everything, how good it was of them to take him in after his parents killed themselves in a car wreck, but it wasn't like a seven year old kid could take care of themselves. That was what parents were for.
Heavy, uneven footsteps along the hall pulled him out of his musings. The light from the rest of the house was almost blinding, blocked out a moment later by Uncle Vernon's wide red face. His heavy eyes raked over the boy with distaste.
"You think that you can wreck my car and get away with it?" The man growled. Harry shook his head mutely. There was no point in trying to correct the story that Dudley had told, but at the same time he found himself unable to perpetuate the lie. It was better to just allow Vernon's anger to blow over him, tighten down his emotions and weather the storm. "That is the last of my hospitality that you will abuse."
Harry was grabbed by the arm and yanked from the cupboard, his tattered, oversized sweater catching and tearing on an exposed nail on the way out, scraping his arm. Vernon didn't care, just dragged the boy out and threw him into the back of the car, starting it and tearing out of the driveway. Harry caught a glimpse of Aunt Petunia's skinny frame on the front porch, her mouth open as if shouting after them as he was driven away from Private Drive.
Now - The Ministry of Magic
Sirius stumbled a half step on the landing, held firm by Kingsley's grip on his arm.
"This is the Wizengamot." He said, taking in the high stone ceilings.
"Come on." Kingsley pulled him along to a small room, securing him to a hard, metal chair and leaving. He wasn't sure how long it was before Shacklebolt came back, this time accompanied by Amelia Bones and several others. Madame Bones took a seat across from him.
"Mr. Black, I trust that you are aware of the reasons that you have been called here today," She said.
"No." Sirius looked at Kingsley. "I haven't been told anything."
Madame Bones faltered slightly. "Mr. Black, it has come to the Ministry's attention that you were remanded to Azkaban without a trial." Sirius blinked. He hadn't thought that anyone would bother with that little fact, not with the way that the evidence was stacked against him. "Therefore," Madame Bones continued, "Myself, Mr. Graham," She gestured to a tall, middle aged wizard who had accompanied her in, "And Professor Albus Dumbledore will serve as your tribunal."
"Dumbledore will be here?" Sirius asked. There was a sharp stirring of hope in his chest- an emotion that he had been unable to feel in such a long time. Tear prickled at the corners of his eyes, and he fought valiantly to keep them from falling.
"Yes." Madame Bones confirmed. "He should be here shortly. Now, you can either give a full confession under the influence of veritaserum, and thereby give the families of your victims some closure, or else Auror Shacklebolt will relate the details of your crimes, and you will be allowed to make statements in your defense, and if the situation allows, call for witnesses in your defense."
"I'll take the veritaserum." Sirius said. Madame Bones watched him carefully.
"You understand that our judgment will be final on this matter, Mr. Black?" She watched him carefully, looking for any sign of deception or trickery. Sirius nodded, attempting to imbue the action with the appropriate level of solemnity, but it was difficult to keep from smiling. "Very well, then." The ministry official allowed. "As soon as Professor Dumbledore arrives we shall get started.
Then - London
They had spent a long time on the road in silence. Harry had attempted to break the silence twice. The first had resulted with Uncle Vernon snarling at him, a long and rambling tirade about freaks and charity that was only half intelligible to Harry's young mind. The second had ended with a sharp blow to the temple that made his vision go dark and his head swim for hours afterwards. He wasn't sure how long it took to arrive in London, but the sun had begun to dip towards the horizon by the time that the once shiny SUV pulled to a halt.
"Get out." Uncle Vernon snapped.
"What?" Harry asked. Surely he couldn't just be leaving him on the street. Aunt Marge was always telling them to send him to an orphanage- maybe one of these buildings was an orphanage.
"Get out." Uncle Vernon repeated. "Now."
"But." Harry hesitated. "But where will I go?" He felt small, smaller than he had ever felt when Dudley had beaten him up on the playground, or lead his friends in taunting the younger boy.
"Not my problem, boy." Uncle Vernon growled. "Now get out."
Harry watched from the curb as the car sped off.
Now - The Ministry of Magic
Dumbledore's eyes held no trace of the sparkle that Sirius had always associated with him. The veritaserum worked quickly, sending his brain into a fog. He answered the tribunal's questions as if in a trance.
"Are you Sirius Orion Black?"
"Yes."
"Did you know Lily and James Potter?"
"Yes."
"In what capacity?"
"James and I were best mates in school. They even named me godfather to their son, Harry."
"Were you ever the Potter's secret keeper?"
"Yes."
"Were you their secret keeper on the night that they were betrayed to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?"
"No."
Sirius was vaguely aware of the shocked silence followed by uncomfortable mutterings.
"Could you repeat that, Mr. Black? Were you, or were you not, the Potter's secret keeper?"
"I was their secret keeper." Sirius explained. "But we switched it because that way anyone who wanted Lily and James would go after me, and not the real secret keeper."
"And who was the real secret keeper?" Sirius knew that this question was asked by Dumbledore.
"Peter Pettigrew."