DISCLAIMER: I don't Sirius Black or his method of escape. Or anything else that was in JKR's books.

This was it. This was the day. Today, with any luck, I would be a free man. That is to say, I would no longer be in Azkaban. I doubted I would ever be truly free; even if by some miracle, Fudge gave me a fair trial and I was proven innocent, my dear cousins Bellatrix (if she ever made it out of here) and Narcissa would be after my life. But anything was better than dying in this hellhole. That was for sure.

I had been preparing for this day for weeks, maybe months. It was hard to tell how long anything took when you were locked up in a high-security cell in the wizard's prison, Azkaban.

But the real question was: Why was I (for the most part) still sane? How had I been able to survive with all of my worst nightmares haunting me constantly? The truth was, I was becoming somewhat immune to the Dementors' unhappy auras. Sure, the first month or so seemed to drag on forever, with nothing to do but remember all of the terrible things in my life. But after a while, the initial shock wore off. It helped that I discovered I could still transform into Snuffles.

About once a year Fudge came to 'inspect' Azkaban. He always made a point of checking up on me, for it seemed that arresting me was one of the reasons he ended up Minister of Magic in the first place. Apparently my suffering had helped his career.

So this time when he came around to my cell, I struck up friendly conversation. Sweeping my elbow-length hair aside, I greeted him. With him were two Dementors, hovering on each side of him, like eerie bodyguards.

"Hullo Minister," I croaked. I wasn't surprised at how my voice cracked. I hadn't used it since he'd visited last year.

"Black," he responded, looking at me as if I was a particularly large piece of dung. I supposed I didn't look much better; my entire body was covered in dirt and grime, due to the fact I hadn't showered since my imprisonment.

"So," I said, "how's life on the outside?" As much as I resented the man, I hadn't had any human contact since last year.

He simply gaped at me. I suppose he expected me to have gone mad by now. Most of the other prisoners subject to the daily mental torture of the Dementors were nutters within the year. Then again, most of the other prisoners we guilty. "I – I – what're you playing at, Black?" he stammered.

"Well seeing as most of my time is – as you know – occupied, I was curious as to what was happening outside of my, er, humble cell," I explained, my voice still crackling because of it's lack of use.

He straightened up his green bowler hat importantly and visibly collected himself. "Well, if you must know, young Harry Potter and his friends managed to save the Weasley girl."

I had absolutely no idea what he was talking about, except at the mention of Harry Potter, my ears pricked up. "And Harry, he's at Hogwarts?" I asked eagerly, yearning for information.

"I believe he is going into his third year now."

"And he saved someone, sir?"

"Yes, the Weasley girl," he said, a hint of impatience in his voice. "Here, there's a picture in The Daily Prophet." He pulled out the newspaper and showed me an article about the Weasley family. I moved closer to look, and Fudge instinctively jumped back from my dirty hands. He dropped the paper and gingerly nudged it through the metal prison bars with his shiny boot. I slowly picked it up, smearing the front page with grime. Seeing this, Fudge said, "keep it, you can keep it."

"Thanks," I said, though somehow I couldn't bring myself to thank him with much sincerity. Fudge nodded stiffly. I wondered why he was still here, talking to me, a filthy murderer.

He seemed to be thinking along the same lines, and abruptly said, "Very well then. Everything seems to be in order here." He turned and walked away swiftly, Dementors gliding behind him. Once again, I was immersed in complete silence.

But Fudge's manners were the last thing on my mind. The picture in front of me was what intrigued me most. There was something so familiar about it, yet I knew I had never met any of these people in my life. There were nine black and white people smiling and waving back at me. They were a man, a woman, six boys, and one little girl. I wondered what Harry had done to save her. I wondered if I'd ever get to meet Harry. Of course, I'd known him for the first year after he was born, but hadn't seen him since. He's probably just like James, I mused.

I missed James and Lily worst of all. I couldn't believe that they were really dead. That fateful night seemed like such a blur to me. Not to mention the ordeal with Peter. The whole time I'd suspected Remus, he was being so distant, but really, it was the rat, Pettigrew. It was so obvious. It's my fault they're all dead. I'd pounded that thought into my brain so much (especially when the Dementors were involved) that I accepted it. I accepted the fact that if it weren't for me, the Potters would be a happy family and Harry wouldn't have been an orphan. I wondered what happened to little Harry. According to Fudge, he'd be going into his third year, so he would be thirteen. When James asked me to be Harry's godfather, he'd told me that if I didn't want to take the responsibility, Lily's sister Petunia and her husband would be taking care of him. I'd never met Petunia, but from what James had told me about the Muggle couple, I sincerely hoped that Harry was living with a nice wizarding family.

I snapped myself out of it. I'd been through all of those thoughts so often that I knew where it would all end up: self-hatred, then self-pity. But now I had new ground to cover. I had a whole Prophet full of new information. But for some reason the Weasley family's picture had captured my attention. I squinted down at the happy little figures, oblivious to my yearning for knowledge. And then it hit me.

Perched on the shoulder of what looked like the youngest of the boys was a very familiar looking rat. The reason my life was worthless. The reason they were dead. It was all there in my hands. The answer to it all.

"THATRAT!" I shrieked to no one in particular.

"I'M GONNA KILL HIM!" one of my fellow inmates shouted back. Not if I can get him first, I thought determinedly.

For the days following Fudge's visit I sat in my cell, formulating what would be the greatest escape of all time. This wasn't the first time I'd thought of this, I'd known all along that I could probably squeeze through the bars in dog form, and that the Dementors probably wouldn't recognize what I was doing. They were blind, after all. The reason I hadn't attempted to escape before was that I had nothing worth escaping for. Harry was much better off without me, and besides, I had nowhere to go. No one to go to, I thought miserably.

But now I had a purpose. I was going to murder the spineless little traitor. Once I'd done that, maybe I try to kill a few more Death Eaters or something. But that wasn't important right then. Getting Pettigrew was the only thing on my mind.

Once I escaped Azkaban, I could go to Hogwarts, maybe stay in the Shrieking Shack in Snuffles form. And maybe, if I was really careful, I'd get a glimpse of Harry at Hogwarts. After all, to get to Pettigrew, he would need to get to the young Weasley boy, who looked about the same age as Harry would be. Maybe I'd even see him play Quidditch. I had no doubt in my mind that Harry was a Quidditch player. James had started training Harry to fly just a few months after he was born.

I shook my head, causing my lank hair to flop back and forth. This was getting me nowhere. I couldn't keep reminiscing. I had to focus on getting out of there. Once I escaped the fortress itself, I'd have to swim to shore. I didn't have a wand so I couldn't Apparate. On second thought, Apparition wasn't such a good idea anyway since I hadn't done it in twelve years – I'd probably end up splinching myself.

With these thought of action running through my mind, I slept restlessly. Sometimes I wake up yelling 'HE'S AT HOGWARTS!' or 'I WILL KILL HIM!' for the world to hear. I doubted anyone took me seriously though, I mean, I was just another captured Death Eater gone mad in Azkaban. That's why everyone was so shocked when I did make it to Hogwarts.

On the day I was to put my marvelous plan into action, I sat patiently in the corner of my cell. I was waiting for mealtime. We prisoners were allowed one meal each day, though sometimes the Dementors seemed to 'forget' to bring the daily slop. The day before was one of those 'forgetful' days, which almost guaranteed food today.

Finally, I felt my cell growing colder than usual, and the faint taunting of Pettigrew's voice, right before he blasted up the street. This could only mean one thing: Dementors. Using all of the energy I could muster, I transformed into an extremely underfed, shaggy, black dog. A pair of Dementors glided up to the barred door of my small cell. As a dog, the Dementors didn't have nearly as much affect. Pettigrew's taunts about betrayal were barely recognizable at the back of my mind, so I focused on slipping through the thick metal bars of the door. I brushed past one of the Dementors and felt and immense cold rush all throughout my body, all the way to the tip of my scraggly tail.

But I had done it! Done the impossible. I had a sudden rush of adrenaline as I trotted silently down the narrow hall. I hadn't exercised this much in twelve years. Hell, I hadn't left my cell in twelve years. I needed to stretch my legs a little, but now was not the time. I had to focus on getting out of there.

From what I remember of going into Azkaban, there were no humans at all guarding the entrance. I can't say I'd want to be the sole human trapped on an island of Dementors and lunatic murderers, but it might have been a good idea for the ministry to put something that wasn't completely blind to guard a prison. Ah well, the better for me, I thought grimly.

After what seemed like at least a half hour, my legs were getting tired and my stomach was starting to grumble. Why didn't I eat my slop before I left? I asked myself miserably. Because you needed to get out of that cell as quickly as possible, I responded. Stomach growling audibly, I forced myself on.

I knew I was getting close when the prisoners cells were getting more tightly packed together; this was where they kept the common thieves or criminals with minor offences. Grinning, I thought of Mundungus Fletcher, one of the best escape artists I knew. He'd helped me out of a tight spot once back in my Hogwarts days. My grin faltered as I remembered how he had to go into hiding when Voldemort led his attack on Diagon Alley. I focused back on getting out of there.

Another fifteen or twenty minutes later, and I could just barely make out the sound of the harsh waves slapping against the solid rock fortress that was Azkaban. My heart leapt; the entrance to the prison was at the very bottom of the building, which meant I was getting closer.

As I continued my rapid trot, the waves grew louder and louder. I passed the chambers where prisoners were given the Dementor's Kiss, shivering slightly. Thank Merlin they didn't sentance me to the Kiss... I'd heard it was the worst possible fate for anyone. Worse than death, because if you died, your soul would go On. But if the Dementors sucked it out first, you would be forever trapped, unless the Dementor was killed.

And finally, I was at the entrance. It was a large archway that, like the rest of the gloomy prison, was made up entirely of gray stone. I remembered the day the Dementors had taken me through this archway, with their cold, clammy, scabby hands…

I shook my head. This was hopefully the last time I would have to be within close proximity of those awful creatures. I approached the archway, looking out at the vast sea. It was dark gray and extremely uninviting. I could see several dead things floating along…they weren't human were they?

No, as far as I knew, no one had ever even made it out of the fortress. Looking straight ahead, I saw the steel block that was enchanted to float along above the water. It was operated by the tap of a wand, so I wouldn't be able to use it. It looked as though swimming was the only way out. I took a few steadying breaths, reminding myself that soon this would just be a bad part of my past. Soon, I would get my revenge on Pettigrew.

It was with that thought in mind that I plunged into the rough, gray water. It felt like I was freezing from the inside out. I felt my lungs seizing up and thought I would never surface. I kicked my legs as hard as I could to come up for air. I was gasping and shivering violently. I tried to breathe deeply, thinking I would run out of energy if I kept breathing so quickly. My tail and toes were completely numb, and I was afraid if I didn't get moving I would get frostbite.

Slowly and jerkily I started to swim. I thought back to the last time I'd been swimming. It was the end of my sixth year at Hogwarts. James and I were celebrating the end of exams by taking a dip in the lake. Though it was nothing compared to this, the lake was chilling. The combination of that, the giant squid, and McGonagall's furious expression had ended our little adventure soon enough. This time, however, I knew I wouldn't have the a hot shower to look forward to once it was over.

Hours seemed to pass before the bleak gray sky finally started to get dark. I knew I had to keep swimming or I could get hypothermia. While there was a simple Warming potion to cure this, I knew I couldn't prance into St. Mungo's and ask for a flask. I would have to be careful.

Now it was pitch black out, but there was a suspicious lack of stars. I supposed it was because of the high concentration of Dementors in such a small place. I was getting so exhausted I thought I might faint, but I knew I had to keep going. Thankfully I was swimming as a big dog because it was much easier to doggy-paddle.

The sky eventually got lighter, informing me I had been swimming for almost a full day. I hadn't eaten in two days, and in the past few hours I'd got more excersize than I had in twelve year. Needless to say, I wasn't doing too hot.

Occasionally I would glance back to see how much progress I was making, but the fog around Azkaban was too thick to really tell. I strained my neck to look up at the sky, seeing that the gray clouds were finally thinning slightly. When I turned my head back to continue swimming, it seemed to be to much and I blacked out.

The first thing I registered upon consciousness was how warm I was. I hadn't a clue why I would be warm, considering I had just swum through an almost-freezing temperature body of water. My head ached a little, but all in all, I felt better than I had since James and Lily were killed. My musings were put on hold when I heard an unfamiliar voice.

"Found this mutt 'long side that shore there," said a man in a low tone.

"Looks half dead, he does," a second man chimed in.

"The wife's gonna take 'im down t'the shelter t'night," the fist man explained.

"Better hurry along, he doesn't look to make it to tomorrow," the second man responded.

Slowly, I cracked open a bleary eye. Sure enough, two men were standing in another room muttering back and forth. One was tall with a lumpy figure. His was the first voice. The second man was smaller and round.

I knew I had to get out of here. I was so weak that I might transform back to a human any time. Sirius Black's escape from Azkaban would probably make the Muggle news, with some of the details changed. What would happen if these men saw a large black dog suddenly turn into a mass murderer right before their eyes?

I tested out my tail first; it gave a feeble shake. It was a start. I tried to roll over onto my legs. After several attempts I was able to stand. I was still slightly damp from my swimming adventure. I shook my whole body, spraying the walls all around with bit of muck and seaweed. I felt better already!

The front door was slightly ajar, so I walked over to it. However, a large book caught my eye: it was a phone book. I thought of Harry, and what hell he would be going through if he was living with his aunt and uncle. With a glance at the door where the two men were still chattering away, I made up my mind. Now what was their last name? It started with a D I think… Dunmore…Dimmel…what was it…I used my nose to flip the pages. I opened it to the D section and started to read.

I scanned the pages at lightning speed, not wanting to waste anymore time. Then I remembered James' words, 'Lily's taking me to meet her parents. Her sister Petunia's coming too, and bringing her boyfriend, Vernon Dursley.'

Dursley! That was most definitely the name. I flipped to the back of the D section and found Dursley. There were two listings: Dursley, M. and Dursley, V.

I quickly memorized Vernon's adrdress: Number Four, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey. In the next room, apparently the tall man's wife had returned as the men were greeting a woman. It was time to go, so with the address on mind, I slipped through the front door.

A/N:

So this was my first Fan Fiction ever! I just got inspired today and started writing. So tell me what you think. You can be harsh... I think I can take it. But whatever you do, please PLEASE REVIEW! Thanks for reading.