Foreword: for the book lovers; I know that this is not completely correct; I know that Hagrid came to the house first, and then comforts Sirius when he arrives, but it needs to be like this for the story to have the best emotional striking potential. So please, stick with me? Ta!
The rest of it is as accurate as I could get it, so please tell me if you spot a mistake.
Oh yeah, and Disclaimer; none of these characters are actually mine; they're a genius by the name of J.K Rowling's
Memories in Azkaban
Silence in a cold night, broken by the roar of a motorcycle, landing on the cold concrete. The wintry night echoed with loss. Sirius looked around, knowing something was wrong. Feverishly, he looked towards where he knew the door would be, but he knew that he wouldn't see anyone unless he had a note or something from Peter.
He bit his lip, swayed with indecision. He knew that he did not have the time for this! Growling at his helplessness, he kicked at the ground. A stone went bouncing wildly into the night, the sound a loud harsh noise, not suited to the silence. Sirius snarled, and went to kick his motorbike back into action.
A lonely white scrap in the darkness caught his attention. He frowned, his leg swinging back to the ground. He stepped forwards, his heart thumping with trepidation. He saw a note; recognized Peter's scrawled handwriting. "Fuck," he said softly into the darkness. He looked up to see Lily and James' house appeared before him.
The house, or what was left of it, was in ruins. An evil green spell hovered over the roof: the Dark Mark. The front door was ajar; the wood splintered down the centre, as if someone had forced it open, regardless of guarding spells. Not breathing, Sirius crossed the threshold to his best friend's house, crossing into the entrance hall he hadn't seen in what seemed like years.
No longer plagued by disquiet, already know what he would find, Sirius raced from room to room, searching. In the semidarkness, he could have missed the dark figure on the ground, amidst the wreckage of the furniture strewn on the floor. "No," he said in a horrified whisper, trying to deny the evidence of his own eyes. He knelt down next to the brother of his heart. He hadn't even gotten to say goodbye.
Slowly, the moonlight reflecting in the tears that ran down his face, Sirius shut his best friend's eyes.
"This is my fault," he said venomously, backing away from James' cold body, "I should never have suggested Peter." He whipped around, "Peter!" he screamed into the night, eyes burning fiercely, "There is to be a reckoning! I will find you! No matter where you are, I will hunt you down!"
Sirius woke from the waking nightmares that plagued his existence. His muscles were stiff from the cold concrete, his breathing harsh and ragged. He blinked, trying to rid the after images of his dead best friend's body from his eyes. They seemed to be burned onto his retina.
He rubbed them, trying to get a few seconds respite from the guilt that ate at him, guilt that had overwhelmed his heart and soul. It was his fault. He should never have trusted Peter. Wormtail indeed! His whole character was as cowardly and sly as a rat's!
There was only one thing that kept him from being immersed in the guilt that was drinking his soul; he did not murder those people. That list was one he could add to Wormtail's.
He was innocent. It was his fault; all his fault. He was innocent. All his fault. Innocent. His fault. Innocent. Innocent.
With a gasp, Sirius fell into the waking nightmares; the memories that were his fault. His body writhed on the floor. Spectral figures watched him silently, their breath rattling, drawing what happiness or heat there might have been. Sirius whimpered, curling defensively, left with no other choice but to remember.
About to swing out of the house to seek his revenge, Sirius stopped. Harry! Was Harry still alive? Unable to douse the flame of hope that flared in his heart, Sirius hurried again from room to room, trying not to see James' body every time he returned to the lounge room. A soft cry came from the back hall. Sirius spun around, flying to where the sound had come from.
He choked back a sob at the sight of Lily's body, lifeless on the floor. He moved towards her; stopped. Harry would be there too. All the evidence pointed towards Harry being dead, but Sirius couldn't believe it.
He started towards Lily's body again; saw a little heap next to her. A cry escaped his lips, and he ran towards them both. Not Harry too. His fault.
He picked up the bundle. Still warm. Frowning, Sirius smoothed back the little tufts of black hair, to reveal a gash across the child's forehead. His hand paused, tracing the wound. A scar? A crease between his brows, Sirius bent to close Lily's eyes. Just then, Harry's eyes themselves opened. Sirius stared in disbelief, Harry was alive! The two pools of emerald stared up at him, and Sirius stared back, marvelling at the fact that Harry lived!
"Siwus?" Harry's little toddler's voice lisped, "Why won' Mummy wake up?"
Tears came to Sirius' eyes. Wiping them away angrily, Sirius turned and strode out of the house.
A few steps towards his motorcycle, that was all he could take before another came to the horrifying scene. Hagrid held out his arms for Harry, "Let me take 'im, Sirius," Hagrid said, "I go' orders from Dumbledore."
Sirius looked up at the huge figure that was towering over him in the darkness. He frowned, "I'm his godfather, let me take him. I'll look after him. James would have wanted it."
Hagrid stood stock still, not moving an inch, "Dumbledore tol' me ter take him ter 'is aunt an' uncle."
Sirius stared up at Hagrid, not willing to believe that Harry was to be taken away, "No."
Hagrid stiffened, looking down at Sirius with bright eyes. When he saw Sirius' red-rimmed eyes, Hagrid softened, "I gotta take him," he said gently, "I have my orders. But you'll be okay, mate."
Sirius' shoulders drooped, "No I won't," he said softly, "James was like a brother to me." He looked back up to Hagrid, "Don't take Harry away. He's all I have."
The two men looked at the now sleeping Harry, "I gotta," Hagrid said, breaking the silence, "I got my orders from Dumbledore. There is nothin' I can do for you. You could ask Dumbledore. Go now, on yer bike."
Sirius deflated, "No, you take my bike. If I don't have Harry, I have nothing." Except revenge, Sirius thought.
"Thanks mate," Hagrid said gruffly, then squeezed Sirius' shoulder, "You'll be right; you'll see."
Sirius watched as the giant kicked his bike into action, stared hungrily after it as it roared off into the sky. His redemption went with it; the only way Sirius could be forgiven. All he had now was revenge. Spinning around, Sirius swore into the night, "I will hunt you, Wormtail. Until I die, or your corpse lies at my feet, you will not be able to rest."
Sirius brushed his tears angrily from his cheeks. He had no soul now. Only revenge.
A cry echoed through the darkness of Azkaban prison. Sirius sat up, wide awake. He looked around and realized that it had been he who had uttered the cry. Revenge. The thirst for it haunted his consciousness. Revenge fro the rat who had put him in Azkaban, who had betrayed the Potters. The Potters who were as good as family to him.
I am innocent of the deaths I am sent here for, he thought feverishly, trying to keep his head above the sea of memories that were trying to drown him. But I will commit one murder, the one I should have been sent here for: the murder of Peter Pettigrew.
A clang of doors slamming caught his attention and held it, helping him keep his mind free of memories. Two Dementors were gliding along the hallway between cells. Sirius looked up, face haggard. He pulled himself together, I am innocent. It was his litany against what his cellmates had succumbed to; fear. Fear and the memories that long should have been forgotten.
He leaned against the wall of his cell, looking out of the bars at who was coming down the hallway. Someone important, he guessed. Someone with the ministry; they had to check on the prisoners sometime.
He walked slowly to the bars, fighting the despair that was as much part of the prison as the stone walls and the water surrounding it. It was none other than Minister of Magic himself. Sirius remembered him from several years before, when he had done another check up on the prisoners.
He growled softly in his throat; this was one of the men who had caught him 'responsible' for the murders Wormtail had committed. He was walking along officiously, carrying a newspaper under his arm. Sirius let out a soft bark of laughter; a newspaper in a prison? This man was obviously a pompous idiot!
Sirius stalked softly to the bars of his cell, wrapping his hands around the bars and peering out curiously. He felt the dementors and their effects, but as he concentrated on the newspaper, he felt that their effects were lessened.
He looked at the front page, the only page that was even a little bit visible to him. A family on the cover waved happily, winners of the Grand Prize Galleon Prize Draw. Sirius raised an ironic eyebrow; money was such tosh; people who had it always wanted more, and everybody thought altogether too much about it.
He looked over the family; there were a lot of children in there to observe; about seven, only one girl in there, apart from the mother. Her life must be hell, Sirius thought, six brothers, all of them older than her.
His eyes skimmed the rest, and stopped at what looked like the second youngest; a lanky figure, who was grinning madly like the rest of them. But it hadn't been the boy that had caught his attention; it was his pet. A rat perched on his shoulder, pretty as you please. Sirius growled again; any rat reminded him of Wormtail. Sirius' eyes narrowed; the rat in the picture reminded him uncommonly so of the traitor. He needed a closer look at the picture. An idea presented itself into his mind.
"Oi! Fudge!" he called, voice raspy from long disuse. The Minister spun around, eyes wide, clutching the newspaper to his chest. Sirius smirked at Fudge's discomfort, "Can I have your newspaper," he asked, then added as if an afterthought, "Only if you're finished with it of course."
Fudge frowned, trying to hide his fear. It was really too bad that Sirius could smell it, "Why do you want it?" the Minister asked.
Sirius cursed himself for not thinking of an excuse, but kept his expression neutral, "I miss doing the crossword," he said calmly. Then he grinned, showing his teeth, "Not many newspapers are delivered out here."
Fudge tried to hide his surprise and alarm, but failed in the light of Sirius' humourless grin. He shifted his weight anxiously, looking around for the Dementor guards.
Sirius barked hoarsely with laughter. The Minister's head snapped back to Sirius' form, lounging against the bars of his cell. Quickly, the Minister of Magic shoved the newspaper into Sirius's hands and hurried off.
Sirius' laughter followed Fudge as he hurried away. When the Minister was out of sight, he looked down at his prize. The front page, with the picture was still there. Again he looked at the boy, looked at the rat. Yes, it was Peter. It was the Traitor, Wormtail. The rat who had betrayed Lily and James, then blamed it on him. It was his fault, but the deaths after it had not been.
Sirius walked down a crowded side street, his mind cold and calculating. Where would Peter have gone? The coward, snivelling little traitor, where would he have gone?
A sudden rising of the hairs on the back of his neck, and Sirius spun around. A squat figure, the one who haunted his thoughts came towards him out of the darkness; he was sobbing.
"Lily and James, Sirius, how could you?"
Sirius stared at him, wild eyed, how could I? He thought with disbelief, It was not I who was the TRAITOR! His hand grabbed his wand, but before he could cast a spell, the whole street blew up. Screams started, but Sirius ignored them, looking for his revenge.
Where Peter had been standing was the middle of the blast, only a finger lying there amid his robes. Sirius looked at the crater next to Peter's robes; a cracked sewer was at the bottom of it, an easy escape route for Peter's transformed shape. He started towards it at a run, wand upraised.
A wizard in white robes stopped him, "Expelliarmus!" they shouted. Sirius' wand went flying from his fingertips, clattering useless behind other Ministry Wizards who had Apparated.
Sirius put his hands down by his sides. He knew now how sly Wormtail's plan had been, how cunningly he had been duped. He stood still, offering no resistance. He laughed. The Ministry Wizards hesitated when confronted by this maniacal sound, obviously not too keen to take on a lunatic. Slowly, they advanced, and tied Sirius up with their spells. Sirius allowed them, still laughing hysterically. His revenge would have to wait until the afterlife.
Sirius came back to himself, cold and shaking on the floor. He still wanted that revenge on Peter, desperately. Although not hearing about him for twelve years, Sirius had wondered if he had indeed died.
Sirius could not help the flash of almost triumph in his heart as he looked at the picture he held in his claw-like hands. I do not have to wait for death now, Peter; you are mine!
A shadow shifted, and Sirius felt the despair descending on him again. I am innocent. He repeated to himself to stay away from the memories. How can I get out of here? I need to get out of here to exact my revenge.
The memory of the crater leading to the sewer flashed into his mind again, the knowledge that Peter would have had to transform to get out of his plight. Well, Wormtail was not the only one who could transform!
Now was the time he could get his revenge, revenge.