A large black dog collapsed into the arms of the stunned fisherman.

"How did you get this far out to sea, boy?" The man sighed, carefully carrying the shivering animal into the little cabin aboard the boat and setting it down by the fire. "Somebody must've dumped you out in the sea... How could somebody do that to a fine boy like you?" He was talking to himself; that much the man knew.

But he was wrong. Sirius looked up at him gratefully as a blanket was wrapped around his shivering body. The fur, which he had thought may keep him warm, only made him colder as the kind man carefully dried him, stroking his matted fur. Sirius let out an involuntary whimper of pain as the man rubbed against a cut he had gotten by scraping against a rock in the murky water surrounding Azkaban. The man, Simon Grimoire, frowned deeply and peered at the cut, swearing under his breath. He left the poor animal in the small cabin and went outside to put his catch away safely and return to shore so he could help Sirius more.


"Up boy! Up!" Petunia Dursley screamed at her nephew, who scrambled out of his cupboard. "Get dressed! We're going to the zoo to celebrate the new year. You're going to stay with Mrs Figg." She growled.

The little boy nodded fearfully.

"If she asks, you burnt your hand when helping me and Dudley make some cookies." She ordered. Harry once more nodded before being shooed back into his cupboard to 'get ready' which meant wait for everybody else to be ready in silence. He was glad he was going to Mrs Figg's. He had a whole day away from the Dursleys! Mrs Figg never seemed to notice when he snuck out so he could even go to the park!

He marvelled at this idea. Maybe today would be a good day.


When they reached the shore, Simon had to drag the dog to his little hut so he could at least feed it before it ran off. The beast growled at him but made no move to bite.

Sirius felt a little bad at putting up such a fight, but he really wanted to find Harry, his godson. He missed him. And now he was out, he could actually take care of him! He could find Moony and maybe even raise him together with his old friend.

He stopped struggling against Simon and trotted beside him, waiting patiently for the man to make the food he intended to give to Sirius, then realising he wasn't exactly strong enough to go and find Harry just yet...


Sirius Black Proclaimed Dead!

After four years in Azkaban, Sirius Black, mass-murderer and supporter of You-Know-Who, was found dead. There was no body found, but there was no evidence of Black escaping. After further investigation by several aurors, it was discovered that Black's body was thrown into the waters outside Azkaban, as many others' are.

Go to page 2 to read more on Black and his crimes.

Go to page 4 to read on Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived and Black's godchild!

Go to page 8 to read about Black's possible innocence.

Sirius Black, Murderer or Innocent Marauder?

After Black's death, more questions have been posed by Black's case. It has been discovered that there was no trial at ALL! This could be deemed illegal! Could it be possible that Sirius Black wasn't the murderer everybody suspected him to be? To find out more, please read next week's edition, based on the upcoming trial on Black's innocence.

Articles Written By Ryo Goldstein.


Later the same day, Harry Potter was back at Number 4 Privet Drive, bare back to his uncle, who held his belt in his hand threateningly.

"Useless, ungrateful freak!" He shouted, face a disgusting shade of puce as he swung his hand down, the belt hitting his ward's back hard, making another long gash on the boy's back. Uncle Vernon had been drinking and was now angry because the boxing championship had been cancelled. Of course, he took his anger out on the young boy, who tried not to sob as he was struck over and over by the thick leather belt.

After what felt like hours, he discarded the belt and started punching the boy. He twisted his arm so hard it snapped. He continued to his him, then threw him into the cupboard under the stairs by the wrist, so he hit the wall and fell unconscious.

Fire curled around its wounded master, protecting him, keeping him warm as the creeping cold of a British winter's night forced itself into every nook and cranny of the house, not bothering any of the occupants but one. The small boy under the stairs shivered as the fire relented, put out by its master's unconsciousness and the cold night around him.

Harry Potter had given up on any hopes of being rescued...