Hey, Gelly Mac here!

I don't know where this idea came from, but I thought it'd be pretty fun to write, and it was!

I hope you have as much fun reading it as I had writing it!

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or Harry Potter Puppet Pals

Enjoy! R&R

Sirius Black sat slouched in his favourite arm chair in number 12 Grimmauld Place, drumming his fingers consistently on one of the arms. It wasn't his favourite chair, really. Sirius thought it stupid and just plain strange to be attached to furniture. Hell, it wasn't even that comfortable! It was old, and mouldy, torn so that the wood underneath is visible and the once teal green that seemed to be an on going theme in this place had long since faded into an odd yellowish shade, with burn marks around the legs and back that he really had no idea what happened there.

Well ... maybe a little. But it wasn't him! … Actually, now Sirius thought about it, it was him – but many, many years ago, in his happy-go-lucky, pre-Azkaban phase. But it wasn't his fault – he was provoked! … Oh, no: that was a lie, too. He was bored … and happened to have a box of matches in his pocket.

Bored like now, for instance. After trying to fill the on going gap until Harry and the others would arrive he a) drank five cups of coffee, b) tried to wash the coffee down with some butter beer (ten bottles, to be exact), and c) resorted to poking a spider with his wand until that lost it's appeal.

Try to imagine how all that turned out.

Well picture this: a slightly tipsy, overly hyperactive 30-something year old man with a spider bite on his wrist, sitting there all alone in the dark at 1am in the morning frantically tapping his fingers on a bit of exposed wood of an armchair and staring off into space.

It dawned on Sirius that he should really do something about that spider bite, but he really could be bothered to get up. This was around the time that it also dawned on him that Harry (and the others) would not be arriving until the afternoon tomorrow – wait, Sirius checked his watch – today, thus resulting in two more cups of coffee.

Ah, but alas: no matches.

But anyway, back to the chair! The chair was where it all started: his insanity, of course. It wasn't his favourite chair – simply the one he found furthest away from that sodding portrait of his mother. He really could care less about the chair. Maybe he's paint it red. Sirius did rather like the colour red, after black, of course. Paint the chair red then presume to do so with the rest of the house he is currently being held prisoner in and call it Hell.

Try that one on for size: The Prisoner of Grimmauld Place.

Sirius laughed to himself. He really was loosing it.

Maybe he'd write a book to pass the time. Call it the Prisoner of Azkaban. Or maybe just skip straight to the move. Sirius always did enjoy films much better than books, anyway. … Yeah, a movie sounded good.

Sirius hadn't realised that all the while through his coffee-high mental rambling his fingers had began to drum on their own accord, and had moved into something rhythmic.

Sirius straightened up in his chair and drummed the same rhythm again. Then again, until it was just a continuous 6 beat drum. It began with one individual beat, with one more following at the same pace after. Then there would be three consecutive drums before moving back to the first individual beat. Sirius drummed it over and over again until he got the beat firmly in his head and he was damn sure he wasn't going to loose it.

Then, out of nowhere, words began to emerge.

He smiled. This was gonna be fun.

"Black … what are you doing?" Severus Snape eyed the dog Animagus suspiciously.

Sirius only grinned innocently and pressed the little Muggle tape recorder in his back pocket on. The lyrics were in the other pocket, and all he needed was the vocalists to say them.

"Oh, nothing. Nothing. Can't I just stand here? It is my own house, after all." He smiled again.

"Hmmm." Snape hummed, looking at Sirius as if somebody had slipped something into his millionth cup of coffee, or wishing that he himself had, Sirius wasn't sure. Either way, he had said the first line! Now to get the rest.

"What are you doing?"

"Looking for the sugar. I'm trying to make tea. I know you are a coffee fanatic, Black, but don't you have sugar anywhere?" Snape grumbled, searching through cabinets in the kitchen of Grimmauld Place, and unknowingly feeding right into Sirius's little plan.

"I think they're over there." Sirius informed, pointing to a random cupboard. Snape opened it.

"Not over here." He grumbled, and slammed the door shut.

Sirius slapped his forehead. "Right, sorry, that's where we keep the rat poison! Would want to put that in your tea – one can only hope – What? No, nothing. The tea's in the pantry over there."

Snape frowned, looking in the direction of the pantry then back at Sirius. "There is no sugar over there. I already checked."

Sirius grinned in fake apology. "We must be all out then!"

Snape frowned again, his greasy black hair falling in his eyes darkly, and muttered something about the rat poison. Sirius reached behind him and pushed the little knob of the living room clock in. He hated the clock when he was young, because it was always so loud and the ticks broke through the silence of the night, so that he couldn't get a good night sleep. Now he loved it.

Sirius noticed Snape getting annoyed at the sound after about a couple minutes of watching him, and after about seven minutes he finally began to look for the source.

"What is that noise?" He hissed. It was becoming really irritating.

"What noise?" Sirius asked, faking confusion.

"That ticking, Black! You're telling me you can't hear it!"

"Oh, wait … Now that you mention it, I can hear. Hmmm ... I wonder where it is coming from?" Sirius pretended to look around for a couple seconds before commenting, "Mysterious, isn't it?"

Snape stared up at him like he had never seen anything like him. "Mysterious?"

"Ay! And also kinda catchy!"

Snape blinked. "What?"

"It's catchy,"

"No it isn't. Where is it coming from?"

"Dunno. But, come on, Snape, you have to admit it is a little catchy!"

"It is irritating. And so are you."

"It is catchy!"

"Why am I still talking to you, Black?"

"Dammit, just admit it is kind of catchy!"

Snape blinked at him again. "Kind of … catchy?"

"Yeah, you agree!" Sirius pulled the knob out. "Oh, hey, listen, it's stopped! I guess we are doomed to never know what it was!" Sirius sighed, while Snape continued to stare at him. "Oh well – Hey, Snape! I was chatting with Moony the other night about the need for correct pronunciations with names, and well, long story short, I think I may have been pronouncing your name wrong all these years. Can you believe it! Help me will ya?"

Maybe if Snape walked away right now he might be able to deny this entire conversation ever happened. "Excuse me?"

"Say your name for me," Sirius insisted.

"Black, I refuse to participate in your childish – "

"Say it and I'll leave you alone."

"Fine!" He snapped. "Severus Snape."

"Again, for me?"

"Severus Snape."

"I'm a little deaf, and that slight hiss of your voice is kinda hard to hear. One more time?"

"SNAPE!"

"Perfect!" Sirius cheered. "Great! There should be no more confusion. I'll pass on the information to Remus – Huh, what's that? Oh, coming!" And with that Sirius fled from the room, forgetting to hide the obvious clock in his hands, which Snape saw.

"I'll never understand Gryffindors."

"... the need for correct pronunciations with names, and I may have been saying yours wrong all this time! So will you help me?"

Ron and Harry stared up at Sirius, not quite knowing what to say. During the conversation the two had proceeded to open their mouths to say something, thinking better, and closing them again. Over and over. They looked like fish.

Harry was kind of hurt that his own Godfather doesn't know how to pronounce him name, and really, how to you mispronounce Harry Potter?

"Sirius ... are you alright?" Harry asked with great concern.

Sirius smiled reassuringly down at him, "Oh, I'm fine, Pup! Just say your name for me, and I'll be off."

Harry's green orbs stared up at the grinning man, and in the end decided to play along. "Harry Potter."

"Say again?"

Harry sighed. "Harry … Potter."

"I've been listening to rock music to fill the endless void of loneliness in here and I think it's damaged my ears some what, so once more louder, please, Harry?"

Harry didn't comment that Sirius had just said his name then, and repeated once more, loud and clear, "Harry Potter!"

Sirius smiled widely Down at Harry and turned to Ron, "Great! How about you, Ron?"

"Well, just like that: Ron."

"Ron?"

"Ron."

"Ron?"

"Ron."

"Ron?"

"Ron Weasley!" Ron lost his temped and snapped at Sirius, but to both of their surprise and even bigger smile, if it were possible, spread across his handsome face.

"Great, thanks! I'll pass the info on to Moony!" Sirius ran from the room.

Ron and Harry shook their heads.

"I'll never understand Sirius." Harry said, while Ron said "I'll never understand adults."

" … He's coming over later today, dear."

"Ok. Thank you, Mrs Weasley."

Sirius poked his head into the room. "Who's coming over later today, Harry?" He knew perfectly well.

"Oh, Dumbledore is, Sirius."

"Sorry, what?"

"Dumbledore,"

"Who?"

"Dumbledore!"

Sirius smirked, "Oh, ok. Thanks!"

"What's that beeping, Sirius?"

Beep! Beep! "Oh, nothing, nothing, Pup!" Dammit, he needed to change the batteries on the tape recorder.

Sirius knew perfectly well that he would be able to fool Hermione with that "mispronunciation" crap – she was far to smart and would see straight through him, like Mcgonagall. Or Buckbeak. So instead Sirius poked his head into Harry's room one afternoon to find him reading a big heavy text book on the bed.

Harry looked up and smiled. It still never ceased to amaze Sirius that even after all he had annoyed Harry with this week, he still looked genuinely happy to see him.

"Hey, Harry. Have you seen Ron?"

"Yeah, he's in the kitchen with Hermione."

"Where?"

"The kitchen."

"With whom?"

"Her-my-oh-knee!" Harry enunciated. "Honestly, Siri, you really should go and get your hearing checked!"

"You think?"

"Oh you may not think I'm pretty,
But don't judge on what you see,
I'll eat myself if you can find
A smarter hat than me."

Harry looked over to where Sirius sat beside him at the dinner table, leaning back in his chair with his hands behind his head and grinning. "Sirius, are you singing?"

Sirius only shrugged and carried on,

"You can keep your bowlers black,
Your top hats sleek and tall,

Harry frowned, listening to the words his Godfather was singing. They sounded oddly familiar. "Have I heard that song before?" It defiantly wasn't among the many Wizard Christmas songs Sirius had belted out 24/7 during the holidays.

"I don't know. Have you?"

For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat
And I can cap them all."

"Hey! That's the song the sorting hat was singing our first year of Hogwarts!"

Sirius's eyes were gleaming.

"There's nothing hidden in your head
The Sorting Hat can't see,
So try me on and I will tell you
Where you ought to be."

"What are you singing, Sirius?" Hermione asked as she and Ron walked into the room.

"You might belong in Gryffindor,
Where dwell the brave at heart,
Their daring, nerve, and chivalry
Set Gryffindors apart;"

Ron's eyes widened at the sudden memory. "Isn't that the song the Sorting hat was singing at Hogwarts our first year?"

Harry and Hermione nodded. "Yeah, it is..." She said.

"How do you know it?" Ron asked.

"And why are you singing it?" Harry added.

Sirius shrugged and leant further back in his chair, smirking. "You'd be surprised what I know. I don't know, just like the tune. It was uppity that year."

"You might belong in Hufflepuff,
Where they are just and loyal,
Those patient Hufflepuffs are true
And unafraid of toil;

Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,
if you've a ready mind,
Where those of wit and learning,
Will always find their kind;

Or perhaps in Slytherin
You'll make your real friends,
Those cunning folks use any means
To achieve their ends."

"Are you going to be singing that all day long?" Harry asked.

Yep!"

"So put me on! Don't be afraid!
And don't get in a flap!
You're in safe hands (though I have none)
For I'm a Thinking Cap!"

"We gotta get back to hogwarts
We gotta get back to school
We gotta get back to hogwarts
Where everything is magic-cooooool"

"What?"

"Sorry, got carried away, there."

Sirius walked the halls of Grimmauld Place silently on his own. He had given everyone a bit of a head ache over the passed week, especially Harry, poor boy, and decided that he would be the nice, caring Azkaban escapee and ex-Marauder and give them all a bit of a rest. For a couple hours. He still had a couple lines left, after all.

Tick, tick, tick …

Sirius groaned. It was that bloody clock again. Sometimes he felt like just ripping it off the wall and throwing it in Kreacher's "room".

From down the hall Sirius heard Ron's distinct voice shouting, "Hey, Professor Snape, I found the source of your "ticking noise". It's that bloody clock on the wall! I swear, that thing's been keeping me up all night – it may as well be a pipe bomb, the way it sounds!"

Sirius stopped in his tracks and stood there for a few moments. That was almost word for word. He didn't even plan that!

He smiled widely. Thank you, Ron. Then, he went on thanking Merlin that he had decided to keep his recorder on 24/7 in case he accidentally picked up something.

"Hey, Kids, Christmas has come early!"

Sirius listened to all the sleeping forms in the room drowsily cheer "Yaaay!" and fled the room before they could realise it hadn't.

"Hey, Harry. Who's your worst enemy?"

"Uh, Voldemort. Why?"

"No reason!"

Two Weeks Later

"Hey, everyone!" Harry, Hermione, Dumbledore and Snape all turned at Ron's call to see the red-head running with something red and sleek in his arms. From far away they could all tell it was some sort of Muggle device. "I just got sent this in the mail. It's from Sirius – and there is a note!"

Harry heard the slightly frightened tone in his friends voice before he took the little folded up piece of paper and read aloud, "You brought this on yourselves, Love Snuffles".

Harry frowned, so did everybody else. Hermione took the laptop out of Ron's arms and opened the lid, setting it down on the desk. The screen flashed on to show some sort of internet "spider-web-site" or so they thought. Everyone minus Harry and Hermione, of course, who grew up with Muggles. This is why they saw what was coming, and Ron, Snape and Dumbledore didn't.

The lucky ones.

Harry hit the play button and the film began. Music erupted to some sort of Wizerding theme, before the title "Harry Potter Puppet Pals" flashed onto the screen. Harry groaned loudly, imagining what was to come.

Everyone watched as the whole 2 minutes and 7 seconds played on, they're eyes getting wider and wider in horror as it progressed. Everybody laughed at Sirius's puppet version of the others until they themselves popped up on screen. By the end, when everyone exploded, and a little puppet version of Voldemort popped up singing everyone had been shocked out of words. They simply stood there staring at the screen for a good five minutes.

Suddenly, Ron broke the silence. "How did he manage to get that on to the intonont?"

"Internet, Ron." Harry corrected. "How did he manage to get out of Azkaban?"

He had a point there.

Dumbledore gulped, staring at the little red contraption with wide eyes. "Maybe .. Keeping Sirius locked up isn't such a good idea, after all."

"Yeah!" Harry agreed, staring the laptop with the same expression. "Who knows what he'll do next ..."

Two Months Later

"Hey, Harry!"

"Yeah, Siri?"

"I've just finished directing a Musical! Wanna see?"

} The End {