Hello there. So, as many, many are, I'm a big fan of Harry Potter, but I've always felt an affinity to Sirius Black. I hate that he died, and I always used to come up with stories...but none were ever quite right. So this now, is my story, of the character I've always had in my head, the one who'd be with Sirius Black. This is not to say he will live. And it will most likely be a 2 - 3 part story. I will post the 1st Chapter tomorrow night so, please read and hopefully enjoy. I will endeavour to post as frequently as possible. Please review as much as you feel able, I thrive off knowing what you think of my stories, but please, no flames.

So, enjoy this taster, review, and if you like it, look out for chapter one tomorrow!

Prologue

(Two Years Ago…)

Blood. There was so much blood. It was everywhere; splashed all over the walls, dripping from the ceiling, and pooling inches deep beneath my feet, soaking the thick Persian carpet deep, dark crimson. I can't escape it. The smell…so cloying and metallic. I'm gagging again, but nothing comes out; I've already thrown up everything left in my stomach. The bodies of my parents lie before me…well, my father's does. My mother, she's more…scattered about the room, in pieces.

Their blood is all over me.

Because I'm the one who murdered them.

Someone's screaming. It's awful, a barely human, heart wrenching sound of pure torment.

It's not till my throat begins to feel like it's being torn to shreds, that I realise I'm the one who's screaming.

Something in me broke that night.

Everything after that is a blur. I have a vague recollection of Moira, the family maid and the woman who practically raised me, helping me into the shower, washing my parent's blood from my skin. I don't remember if she was shocked or not, just that she helped me, held me, stroked my hair until the Aurors came and took me away.

Moira must have testified in my favour, told them what truly happened, the reason why I snapped and killed my mother and father (and since witnesses are always interrogated with a truth potion in their system, there's never any doubt the witness is being truthful). I'm not sent to wherever they send juveniles one day destined for Azkaban. No, instead, they send me to a really decent Asylum, far better than I deserve.

They help me, heal me as best they can…which is to say, enough for me to function in society without breaking down into a crazed – and dangerous – panic attack. They help me learn to control my…unique powers.

It's such a great facility, they even keep my education up, so I won't be behind when I return to Hogwarts.

But I can't stop dreaming about the blood. Can't stop smelling it, like it's a permanent fixture in my nose – and whenever I close my eyes, I don't see black.

I see that deep, dark crimson.

Dripping behind my eyelids, until it's a waterfall of scarlet brutality.

Please review and let me know what you think and look for the next post tomorrow!