Oblivion

by Seriously Sam

On his thirteenth birthday, Harry Potter received a strange letter from a man he never met – a man who was a supposed mass murderer and warning him about a rat. Harry thought the only reasonable thing to do was to visit Sirius Black in prison to hear him out. AU

1. The Letter

On his thirteenth birthday, Harry Potter received a strange letter from a man he never met – a man who was a supposed mass murderer and warning him about a rat. Harry thought the only reasonable thing to do was to visit Sirius Black in prison to hear him out. AU

"Oblivion"

"Chapter One: The Letter"

It was a hot, muggy July day. Harry was sprawled out on his bed in his aunt and uncle's home on Privet Drive, his hands tucked neatly behind his head. His window was wide open, but no breeze entered the room to ease the unbearable heat. It was no ordinary day for Harry. It was his birthday – his thirteenth birthday. Nobody at Privet Drive cared. In fact, the teenager didn't even consider Privet Drive his home. It was merely the prison he found himself locked in every summer while he longed to go back to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry - the school that he considered his real home. He was waiting for his birthday wishes from his friends, his gaze lingering to the open window wishing an owl to come through.

That's when he saw it. A large, tawny owl that was not familiar in the slightest. It sat perched on his windowsill with a letter tied around its leg. Rolling off the bed, Harry strolled to the window to grab his letter. Unfamiliar writing shown on the envelope - only his name, no address was written. As soon as Harry took the letter, the owl ruffled its feathers as though it thought that was the professional thing to do before turning swiftly to leave in a stiff manner. Hedwig gave a haughty hoot of displeasure.

Harry pulled out his desk chair and sank down. Flipping the letter over, he ran a thumb underneath the flap and ripped it open. Pulling out the letter, a newspaper clipping fell onto his lap. It looked like the picture had been torn, rather than cut, out of the newspaper as the edges were ragged. The familiar faces of the Weasleys shone up at him. They were in Egypt – Harry had remembered seeing the picture himself a few days previous. There were quill marks on the picture, a large circle drawn around Ron's pet rat, Scabbers.

Harry, brows furrowed, picked up the picture and sat it on his desk. He then unfolded the letter carefully. Curiosity coursed through his veins.

Dear Harry,

I have no doubt that you will not know who I am nor that anyone would tell you anything about me. My name is Sirius Black, and I was best friends with your father. I am, in fact, your godfather. I am currently residing in Azkaban Prison for, apparently, killing twelve Muggles and a wizard with a single curse in the middle of a crowded street. Except, only twelve Muggles died that day and it wasn't by my doing. Although, if I'm being completely honest with you, I would have rather liked to kill the wizard.

The wizard that had supposedly died that day is named Peter Pettigrew. He was, unfortunately, a friend of your father and mine at school. You see, unbeknownst to us, Peter joined Voldemort's gang of Death Eaters. Now, what I am about to tell you is very important. I only hope you will, one day, be able to forgive me for what I am about to tell you. James and Lily knew that Voldemort was after them – after you. Dumbledore claimed the only way to keep them safe would be the Fidelius Charm where a Secret Keeper would be chosen and nobody could find them unless the Secret Keeper gave them the location. Voldemort could have pressed his face against your parents' window and not be able to see them if he was not divulged the secret.

Naturally, your father wanted me to become their Secret Keeper. I was his best friend. We were like brothers. I would have died for James – died for you and Lily as well. Except, I hesitated. Everyone knew I was close to James. Everyone knew that I would be the Secret Keeper. I would be hunted immediately. I wasn't afraid of being killed. I wasn't afraid of being captured and tortured either. I was afraid of breaking. I was afraid I wouldn't be able to keep the secret. You see, there were quite a few of my family members who had joined Voldemort and were fighting alongside of him. I was afraid they would know how to break me – my family who knew every single dark secret about me and every terrible thing about my life. If anyone could break me, it would have been my rather deranged cousin.

Perhaps, I was young and thought I was clever. I went to James and told him Peter should be Secret Keeper. Peter would trail along James and I at school. He wasn't particularly talented, wasn't particularly bright. He was just there as our dumpy, dunce of a friend. Who in their right mind would pick Peter to keep such a valuable secret? James, who perhaps never thought badly about his friends and held them on a spectacularly high pedestal, was even hesitant which should have been my first clue that my brilliant plan wasn't actually that brilliant after all. He wanted me. He trusted me most of all. In the end though, he agreed. A few days later, your parents were murdered. Peter, I later learned in Azkaban, had been working with Voldemort for at least a year at this point. He had been his spy and had been passing your parents movements to Voldemort the whole time – as well as the movements of others who were fighting against him.

I was devastated. I blame myself for your parents' deaths and I wouldn't blame you if you do as well. I thought I could outwit a deranged psychopath. I was angry. I was furious. I went to your house that Halloween night. I saw the roof was blown off the house. I saw your dad in the living room. Then, I heard you crying upstairs. I saw your mother on the floor in front of your crib. I saw Hagrid had arrived and had you in his arms. I begged for him to give you to me, but he wouldn't. He said Dumbledore had somewhere safe for you to go.

In a moment of intense grief, frustration, and anger, I let you go. I let Hagrid take you. I had every intention on coming back for you. I want you to know that. I had every intention to get you in my custody in a day or two. I just wanted to get Peter. I wanted to murder him for what he had done to James and Lily, for what he had taken from you.

I found him in a crowded Muggle street. He shouted for everyone to hear that I had betrayed James and Lily. He blew up the street around us. Then, I watched as he cut off his finger and transformed into a rat. He's an illegal Animagus. I laughed. I couldn't believe Peter had outsmarted me, had bested me. I know I must have looked unhinged by insanely laughing in a street full of dead Muggles. I was carted off to Azkaban without a trial.

There's a boy in that picture in the paper. That rat on his shoulder is Peter Pettigrew. It says he's at Hogwarts where I know you attend. I'm not going to lie, I tried to escape Azkaban to go to Hogwarts to kill Peter myself and keep you safe. I was caught on the shores and dragged back to my cell. Now, I'm writing you this letter in hopes I can warn you about the danger of Peter Pettigrew. I have no doubt my letter will be read before being sent. It is only my hope that they see nothing threatening was written and they will send it to you. I've seen my cousin receive and write letters to her sister no doubt. I know there's a way and I just hope it has found you.

Please, Harry, you can blame me for your parents' deaths. I blame myself. There isn't a day that goes by where I don't apologize to James for what's happened. But do not blow off my accusations about Peter. He is dangerous. He always seeks out those who are more powerful than himself to take care of him. In school, that was James and me. We were the wizards more powerful than him that could take care of him. After school, well, there was someone even more powerful than us to take care of him. Voldemort is not dead. If there's even a whisper of him coming back to power, Peter will hurt you. He will kill you.

I am going to ask you to do some things for me. Firstly, write me back so I know that you are aware of Peter. If I don't hear from you, I will have to attempt again to take matters into my own hands. Secondly, you need to force Peter out of his Animagus form and show Dumbledore who he really is. Thirdly, if you need help, write to Remus Lupin. He was the fourth friend in our group, but I am hoping you already know that. Show him the picture. He will know it's Peter. He has to. You, Remus, and I are the only people alive who know that Peter is an illegal Animagus. Remus will confirm this to you if you ask him.

Your godfather,

Sirius Black

Harry reread the letter at least five times, his heart hammering loudly against his chest and threatening to break through. He didn't know what to make of the letter, didn't know what to believe. He had a godfather who was in prison for murder… murders he claimed he did not commit but nobody believed him. He talked of his father. James, who perhaps never thought badly about his friends and held them on a spectacularly high pedestal, Sirius had written. His father, caring and loyal to friends he deemed worthy no matter what. Perhaps, that had been part of his parents' downfall. Trusting the wrong sort of people, refusing to believe that their friend could actually turn bad.

Suddenly, the photo album that Hagrid gave him at the end of his first year flooded through his mind. He vaguely remembered a wedding photo of his parents in the album. He never took much interest in the wedding party. It hadn't particularly been his favorite picture because he knew none of the people in the photo. He knew, however, he would be able to put a face to the name of Sirius Black with that picture.

He flicked through that pages with haste, trying to find the picture as quickly as possible. A page sliced his finger, immediately drawing blood. Popping the finger in his mouth, he continued to flip through the pages with his free hand without missing a beat. He stilled, the faces of eight people staring up at him. They were all laughing, all smiling, all looking completely happy.

Harry saw his father and mother standing in the middle. Their faces held smiles so wide that it looked like they could split in half. There was an arm around James Potter's shoulder. Harry eyes glided. Slightly shorter than his father stood a man with jet-black hair that laid neatly and flat on his head in a way Harry nor his father, apparently according to pictures, could ever master. The smile on his face was wide but it had not completely reached his piercing gray eyes. He looked haunted, like there was a weight on his shoulders. Next to that man was another man. He was the tallest of all the boys, towering over his friends with sandy hair, kind yet tired brown eyes, and lanky features. Next to him, the shortest and roundest of all, was a man with beady, watery eyes whose smile was, perhaps, the least enthusiastic of the group.

Swallowing a lump that had formed in his throat, Harry assigned names to the men. He guessed the rounded man was Peter Pettigrew. Sirius had described Peter as our dumpy, dunce of a friend. The description seemed to fit. He guessed the man standing directly next to his father, the man who had so casually wrapped an arm around his shoulders, was Sirius Black. The tall boy had to have been Remus Lupin.

Harry leaned back into his chair, his eyes never leaving who he suspected was Sirius Black's face. He wanted nothing more than to talk to the man in person, but he thought that was an impossible and silly idea. Except, didn't people visit prisoners all the time in jail? Was that a Muggle tradition or could wizards do it as well? Would they even let an unattended thirteen-year-old meet a crazed mass murderer?

Licking his lips, he grabbed a bit of parchment and a quill. Before he knew what he was doing, he was writing a letter.

Dear Mr. Black,

I received your letter. I'm not saying I believe you or don't blame you for things. I'm not saying I don't believe you either. I don't know what to think. Can I come visit you? I'd like to meet you and talk with you in person. I'm not quite sure if that's possible or how I would go about it. I have no one to ask. I live with my Muggle relatives so they're no help.

- Harry Potter

Before he lost his nerve, before he could even think or reread his words to make sure they made sense, he folded the letter up neatly and wrote Sirius Black, Azkaban on the outside of the parchment. He attached the letter to Hedwig and watched as she soared through the air.

His gaze wandered back to the picture of Ron and his family. He thought about owling Ron, warning him that his rat may be a murdering wizard but he stopped himself. What if Sirius Black was lying or mistaken? If he was telling the truth, what if Ron let Peter get away and Sirius was stuck in Azkaban for life? If Sirius was telling the truth… Harry wanted to get him out of Azkaban.

I had every intention on coming back for you.

Did that mean… could Sirius have wanted Harry to live with him? To take care of him? Is that what a godfather did? Harry sighed, his mind going wild. He picked up the letter from Sirius once more, his eyes gliding over the now familiar words.

Harry didn't even bother opening the gifts that his friends had sent him for his birthday. He was too preoccupied thinking about Sirius Black. The man was slowly becoming an obsession in his mind.

I begged for him to give you to me.

How could nobody tell him about Sirius before? The thought angered him more than he was willing to admit. The more he thought about the letter, the more he believed Sirius. Sirius Black did not betray his parents to Voldemort, he did not kill those Muggles, he did not kill Peter Pettigrew. Harry swore, he was going to get Sirius out of prison.

He was counting down the days for school to begin again for an entirely different reason than he had in the past. Before, he craved the common room, his friends, Quidditch, the castle, getting away from the Dursleys. None of that mattered anymore to him. The only thing that mattered was grabbing Scabbers and taking him to Dumbledore.

It was two days of obsessing. Two days of wondering how to get to Azkaban to talk to Sirius in person. He couldn't say how many times he read his godfather's letter. He knew that his obsession was borderline unhealthy. Except, he had wished for this his whole life. He wished for someone to whisk him away from the Dursleys, someone who wanted to talk to him about his parents, someone to tell him all about the family he had lost, someone to love him. He had, without question, seemed to place all of his eggs in one basket with Sirius Black. He was the only one of his parents' friends to ever contact him, to ever tell him anything about his parents. He craved more.

Then, Hedwig returned with a letter. She looked annoyed as though she was unhappy about staying at Azkaban in order to get a reply. Harry let her into his room, giving her a quick pet of thanks before tearing into the new letter.

Harry,

There is a part of me that is telling me to be responsible and discourage you from coming to Azkaban as this is no place for a thirteen-year-old to be. A more, perhaps, selfish part of me wants to throw caution to the wind and tell you exactly how to see me. I shall let you decide. Your mother would discourage it. Your father would have laughed and encouraged the adventure because the mere thrill would have been what made it fun for him. I'd be lying if I didn't share your father's point of view.

You want to call the Knight Bus. Raise your wand arm in the air and pull backwards. A big, purple bus will pick you up and take you wherever you want to go. Ask for the Ministry of Magic. There will be a phone booth that you want to enter and dial 62442. It spells magic in case you forget. Go to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and request a visitor pass to Azkaban.

Now, this if very important. They may automatically deny your request because you are not a blood relative and you are underage. I can help you bypass one of these obstacles but the other will only take pure determination and luck to get pass. James and I wrote wills about a month before they went into hiding. We were both scared that we could potentially die in the war. James, in his and Lily's will, named me your legal guardian if they shall die. Being in Azkaban has put a damper on that part of their will. But, thinking I'd be your guardian and not locked in Azkaban, I wrote in my will that you would be my heir and inherit the Black family fortune upon my death. Therefore, being that I named you are my rightful heir, you can claim family visiting privileges.

Love,

Sirius

Harry's heart gave a lurch. Love. Sirius had written the word love to sign off his letter. He knew, in that moment, he was going to the Ministry and he was going to demand to go to Azkaban. They couldn't deny him that request. Sirius had listed him as his heir, had cemented their relationship as family. Family. Harry never thought he'd consider anyone to be his family before. He quickly devised his plan on how he was going to get to London the next day.

It was early in the morning, six o'clock to be exact. Harry hadn't slept all night as he plotted his trek to London and then to Azkaban. He put the picture of his parents' wedding into his pants pocket for good measure. He slipped out of his bedroom, careful not to wake the Dursleys, and tiptoed down the stairs and out the front door. He walked down the street, wand stuffed in his back pocket. He thought about walking to the park and calling the Knight Bus from there. There were less houses so less people to see him.

Pausing in front of the park, he pulled out his wand cautiously and looked around. Upon seeing no one, he pulled his wand arm back and nearly fell over at the sight of the Knight Bus. Harry didn't know what he was expecting as Sirius seemed to describe it well enough. Perhaps, it was the fact it appeared out of thin air with a loud BANG! that had startled him.

"Welcome to the Knight Bus, emergency transport for the stranded witch or wizard. Just stick out your wand hand, step onboard, and we can take you anywhere you want to go. My name is Stan Shunpike, and I will be your conductor this morning."

He stepped to the side, his hand gliding backwards as though beckoning Harry onto the bus. He entered the bus and was surprised to see beds instead of seats littering the aisle. He barely heard Stan as he gave the prices of the bus. Reaching into his pocket, he absentmindedly pulled out some coins and deposited them in Stan's hand.

"I need to go to the Ministry of Magic," Harry said wearily as though double guessing this whole grand adventure.

The bus gave a terrible lurch and Harry fell to the floor. He scrambled up, clawing at the nearest bed to help steady him. The bus looked quite empty so early in the morning, and Harry had been glad. He didn't want anyone to see him, ask questions of why he was on the bus. Flattening his bangs on his forehead, he saw that Stan was watching him curiously.

Harry started walking away from Stan, not feeling like talking. He maneuvered around the beds until he got to the very back of the bus and sat down, his heart hammering in his chest. It didn't seem to take the usual hour plus to get to London for which Harry was glad as his nerves were starting to get to him. The bus stopped outside of a red phone booth which he supposed was the Ministry of Magic entrance Sirius spoke of.

Giving a weary smile to Stan as he stepped out of the bus, he didn't even have time to make it two steps before the bus was gone with another BANG!. Stepping into the phone booth, his fingers punched the appropriate numbers.

"Welcome to the Ministry of Magic. Please state your name and business," a female voice boomed seemingly out of thin air.

"Err… Harry Potter. I'm here to visit the Department of Magical Law Enforcement to see about visiting Azkaban Prison."

"Thank you. Visitor, please take the badge and attach it to the front of your robes."

There was a click and a rattle before a small badge shot out of a metal shoot. Picking it up, he read Harry Potter, Azkaban Visitor Requestee. Harry attached the badge to his shirt.

"Visitors to the Ministry are required to submit to a search and present your wand for registration at the security desk, which is located at the far end of the Atrium."

The floor below his feet lurched downwards. Harry watched as the street slowly disappeared. Part of him thought he were going to be sick and part of him was excited at the prospect of meeting his godfather. Godfather. It still sounded so foreign in his mind.

"The Ministry of Magic wishes you a pleasant day."

The floor stopped moving, the door bursting open. Harry stepped out gingerly. He glanced around the hallway to see fireplaces lining the edges. Putting one foot in front of the other, his eyes darted around trying to find the security desk. He bypassed a magnificent fountain and spotted a set of golden gates at the end of the hall. He vaguely wondered if that's where he was supposed to go.

A sigh of relief escaped his lips when he saw a sign saying SECURITYwith a wizard sitting idly there looking rather bored as he flipped through a book. He looked up at Harry with mild interest when he stopped in front of him.

"Err… I'm here about visiting a prisoner in Azkaban," Harry said uncertainly.

"Step over here," he waved next to him.

Harry followed the instruction and the wizard ran a golden rod over his front and backside. Then, he held out his hand and asked for Harry's wand. He nervously produced the wand to see it set on a scale. It vibrated and a piece of paper shot out.

"Eleven inches, phoenix feather core, been in use for two years. Correct?"

"Uh, yeah."

Harry was handed back his wand and the wizard kept the small sheet of paper. He waved Harry on and he did not hesitate to go forward before the wizard asked his name. He didn't particularly want people to know that Harry Potter was about the Ministry of Magic. Marching forward some more, he saw elevators in front of him. Guessing he had to get onto one, he followed behind a short witch who paid little attention to him.

"Um, excuse me, can you tell me what floor the Department of Magical Law Enforcement is on?" Harry asked the witch.

She turned towards him, eyebrow raising elegantly in the air. Her eyes flung up to his scar, and he hurriedly tried to flatten the bangs on his head.

"Level Two," she spoke softly.

"Thanks," he replied to look for the buttons but didn't see any.

Harry listened carefully as the elevator dove downwards. Part of him was glad he had gotten to the Ministry so early as not many people had arrived to work. It made paying attention and finding his way easier than he had anticipated.

Upon stopping on Level Two, Harry stepped out of the lift and meandered around looking for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Towards the very end of the corridor, he spotted it. He pushed the door open to see a small secretary's desk not far from the door. Behind it was littered with cubicles. Some were already filled with wizards working and others were still empty.

"Can I help you?" a wizard asked lazily as he looked up from the paper to greet Harry.

"I, uh, want to visit a relative at Azkaban Prison," he said, his tongue peeking out to lick his lips nervously.

The wizard's eyes darted down to the visitor badge pinned to Harry's chest. His eyes grew wide before he turned around in his seat.

"Oi, Madam Bones, can you come here for a moment?"

A strict, square-jawed witch, who was bending down talking to another witch at one of the cubicles, stood up upon her name being called. She crossed the room quickly, her gray hair was pulled back, her eyes narrowing slightly at the sight of Harry.

"This here is Harry Potter. He says he has a relative in Azkaban he wants to visit."

"Follow me, Mister Potter," Madam Bones gestured for Harry to step fully into the office.

He followed her dutifully as she led him through the office. People in their cubicles turned around, no doubt hearing his name being spoken in the unusually quiet room. He dared not look at any of them until they had reached a door at the other end of the office. She opened the door and motioned for him to step inside. He did so and quickly sank down in one of the seats across from a desk. Madam Bones closed the office door and took a seat across from Harry.

"You want to visit Azkaban Prison?" she asked in a tone of disbelief. "I don't know of any relatives you have there."

"My godfather, Sirius Black, is there. I'm his heir. He listed me in his will as his heir so that makes us family," he spoke in a hurried tone.

"You want to see Sirius Black?" she asked, her voice slightly aghast.

"Yes, I do," he tried to sound confident but now he was wondering more and more why he had even come in the first place.

"Do you know why Sirius Black is in Azkaban Prison?"

"He killed thirteen people and was a follower of Voldemort's," Harry replied and Madam Bones merely shook her head in amazement.

"And yet, you still want to see him?"

"I… he was my dad's best friend. He's my godfather. I guess I just… need to know why he did it. I just want to talk to him," Harry said as he felt like a weight was slowly crushing his chest. "Please, Madam Bones, I have to know why."

"Where are your guardians?" she questioned.

"They're Muggle. They don't understand our world. They gave me permission to come," he lied easily.

"Shift change for Azkaban happens in two hours. You will have to wait here until that happens. I will send for an Auror to come down and accompany you to Azkaban as you are a minor and that's what is dictated to happen. You will have a half hour to speak with him before being brought back," she said curtly. "I want to deny you access to such a horrid man, but if you are listed as his rightful heir, I am bound by the law to let you see him. You may have the Auror stay with you while you speak to him or stay outside of the door to wait for you. The choice is yours. He will be bound to a chair and will not be able to touch you. Is that understood?"

"Understood."

That's how Harry found himself sitting in a chair across from the secretary's desk in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement for the next two hours. He watched as people filed into the office as the workday began. Everyone gave him curious looks but he tried to avoid their questioning gazes. A few times, he noticed Madam Bones looking at him, disappointment and confusion clouding her features.

As the clock ticked closer to the end of the two hours, Harry felt himself becoming more and more nervous. A very tall, dark man appeared in front of him. He was bald and had a gold hooped looped on his ear. He smiled down at Harry and extended his hands towards the teenager. Harry stood up at once and took the hand in his.

"Kinsley Shacklebolt, Mister Potter. I'm the Auror who is going to accompany you to Azkaban. Normally, we Apparate to the dock and take a boat ride to Azkaban. I thought, since you're a minor, we would take a portkey to the shores and avoid the dramatics of the boat ride. I got it cleared just moments ago."

"Er… thanks, Mister Shacklebolt."

"Now, I must ask that you give me your wand. You're not allowed a wand in Azkaban."

Harry reached into his pocket and handed his wand to Shacklebolt. His stress levels seem to rise greatly at the gesture. What if Sirius Black was crazy? What if he tried to hurt him and he had no way to defend himself? He tried to push those thoughts out of his mind. Sirius sounded so… normal in his letters. He acted as though he were familiar with Harry, like they had been close their whole lives.

"Will you want to go in alone or do you want me to come with you into the room?"

"I, uh, I think I want to go in alone. Can you hear me if I call for you?"

Harry thought that he wouldn't get the answers he craved if there was an Auror in the room.

"A good scream will get me running in," he said in a voice that sounded way too cheerful.

Harry tried to smile back but his face was not cooperating with him. The Auror held out a deflated football and told Harry to take a hold of it. He did, his hand shaking slightly. Before he could ask what was going to happen, he felt like he was being tugged by his navel. He landed on his knees onto very coarse sand, feeling ready to vomit, as he involuntarily shivered. Standing up on shaky feet, a silvery lynx appeared from Shacklebolt's wand. The lynx trotted happily in front of them as Harry felt Shacklebolt's hand lace around his bicep.

Harry allowed himself to be led. His gaze caught several cloaked figures gliding in the distance. They seemed to cringe away from the silver lynx. They entered the prison and Harry looked to his right to see a bunch of cells. A pale hand even crept out through one the cells. Screams rang all the way down the corridor. Luckily, the lynx led them to the left which looked like a bunch of offices were located. At the end of the corridor was a door. Shacklebolt opened the door and motioned for Harry to enter.

Upon entering the small room, Harry didn't know what to expect. He did not picture the man laughing in his parents' wedding photo to look so… wrong. His hair was long and matted. His skin pale as moonlight. He was so thin that Harry could see his bones through the tatters of his prison robes. His cheeks were hollow and gaunt. He did not look like the man in the photo. He supposed that he thought the man would look more familiar, more recognizable, but he didn't. Not in the slightest. It shook Harry more than he was willing to admit.

"Harry…" the shadow of a man spoke in barely above a whisper, his voice cracking from lack of use. "I… I didn't think they'd let you come."

Harry crossed the room and sank down into the chair opposite of the man. Their eyes bore into one another. His stomach lurched; his palms sweaty. He licked his lips nervously, not knowing what to say. His eyes flickered to the man's wasted wrists clad in chain.

"Hi," he said lamely.

"You said you live with your Muggle relatives… is that Petunia and Vernon?" Sirius asked casually, his fingers laced together neatly on the table.

"Did you know them?" questioned Harry as his eyes snapped up to look at the man.

"I met Petunia once when I was seventeen over Christmas break. James and his parents were going to Lily's to meet her family. I tagged along," Sirius said as though it was perfectly normal to go with your best mate's parents to meet his girlfriend's family. "She was… not what I was expecting exactly. I mean, Lily made comments that her and Petunia hadn't gotten along in years, but I didn't expect her to be so… rude."

A frown worked its way onto Sirius' face as though he were being trapped within a memory. He stilled for a few seconds before he started to speak again, his voice losing some of its roughness.

"Lily was, perhaps, the kindest person I had ever met in my life. She would give you the shirt off her back kind of nice. She could never see the bad in anyone. She always thought people were inherently good and just made bad choices. If someone could show them the way of their bad choices, well, then they'd be right as rain again. She saw the good in people when nobody else could find the good in them. I think, despite her and Petunia's disagreements, she wanted for them to be close again as they had when they were younger."

"Aunt Petunia's still a nightmare," Harry spoke softly. "She still hates my mum, hates me, hates magic."

Sirius only frowned. His hand twitched as though to reach out for Harry but the chains around his wrists rattled and faltered him from doing so.

"Your father, however, saw no issue in not associating with Petunia," Sirius continued, the corner of his mouth twitching slightly. "He didn't think very highly of her, and James didn't understand Lily's yearning for her sister back. James was an only child and didn't understand sibling relationships. He only saw that Petunia was, quite frankly, an ugly cow and wanted nothing to do with her. He only tried and pretended because I told him if he didn't, he was being a right prat towards Lily's feelings. So, a few nights after meeting the family, James and Lily actually went out to dinner with Petunia and Vernon. From what James said, it didn't go very well. I think Lily's parents had forced them to go to dinner, to try to bridge the gaping hole that had become a crater between the two sisters."

"I'm assuming my dad didn't like my Uncle Vernon."

"Oh, no. James hated him even more than Petunia, I think. He said he was a funny man – not funny in the traditional sense but funny in every negative sense of the word. James thought he was trying to goad him into a fight, almost as if he wanted James to whip out his wand and hex him so he could prove that wizards were everything he expected them to be."

"Freaks," Harry said dryly and a dark cloud shadowed over Sirius' eyes.

"Yes," Sirius said carefully, his eyes nearly burning a hole into Harry's. "At the same time, James thought Vernon was also trying to… impress him. He talked of his fancy car and only sneered when James in turn talked about his fancy broom. It all went to shit when Vernon commented how wizards must live off government money because they couldn't possibly be able to acquire a job and live like a normal person. James, in turn, invited him to Gringotts to show him the money in his vault."

Harry couldn't help but laugh. He could imagine his uncle's big, purple face growing red with fury that such a person, such a freak would have more money and prestige than him. His heart ached painfully for his father who suddenly felt real with a personality and a life. He no longer felt like a mystical figure. No, he felt more real to Harry than he ever had before.

"James only saw them once more. He attended their wedding with Lily the summer after we graduated Hogwarts. James said they didn't associate with them the whole night but he overheard Vernon telling people he was an amateur magician who couldn't hold down a job. James so badly wanted to perform some Muggle-esque magic tricks just to mess with him but Lily refused to let him do so. They never came to James and Lily's wedding."

At the mention of his parents wedding, Harry dug into his jacket pocket and pulled out a photograph. He laid it down on the table between them, his fingers smoothing the glossy paper carefully. Sirius leaned forward slightly, the chains rattling as he did so. An odd smile crept across his features.

"The one on the end is Peter. Then, Remus. Then, me," Sirius said unnecessarily. "You know your parents, of course. Next to your mother was her best friend, Marlene McKinnon. She died in the war – her whole family was murdered actually. Then, that's Alice Longbottom. She and her husband were tortured into insanity shortly after your parents died. The girl on the end is Dorcas Meadowes. Voldemort saw to it to kill her personally. Rumors swirled that she had discovered a secret about him. She was to meet with the resistance the night she died, said she had very important information about him from a Death Eater who turned."

Sirius looked sad, his body seeming to sag in exhaustion. He leaned back in his chair as he cleared his throat. His eyes still lingered forlornly on the picture.

"You said you were my godfather… did I have a godmother too?" Harry asked as he looked down at the three women in the picture.

"Marlene was. We were to share custody of you if anything happened to your parents. When she died, that responsibility fell onto me which, I'm not complaining, but I haven't exactly been able to uphold that promise," he said bitterly as he looked miserably around the room.

"I see," Harry said lamely as he snatched up the picture and put in rougher into his pocket than he would have liked.

"Do you see Remus at least?" inquired Sirius as he looked up at the boy. "Did he give you that picture?"

"I've never met Remus. I didn't even know he existed until you mentioned him in your letter," Harry said bitterly. "Hagrid wrote some of my parents' friends during my first year at Hogwarts and asked for pictures of them. I didn't have any before that. Honestly, you're the first person to ever tell me any stories of my parents. The most I knew were that they were brave, kind, smart people. Nobody shared any stories about them. Just generic little tidbits I guess."

A funny look crossed over Sirius' face. He looked mad, sad, frustrated, and hurt all at the same time. That's when Harry noticed the water that had accumulated on his eyelashes for a few brief seconds before he lowered his head and brought his dirty arm to wipe across his face.

"They were so much more than that, Harry," his voice croaked as it had when he first entered the small room. "James was… loyal, brave, amazingly intelligent, quick-witted, and kinder than I ever thought possible. Remus, we found out in our second year, is a werewolf. James never thought anything of it. Knew Remus was a good man, knew he wasn't a monster like most people tried to paint him. James came up with a plan to make Remus' transformations more bearable. He wanted to become an Animagus. He wanted us all to become Animagi so we could stay with Remus during the full moon. A werewolf is only a danger to humans in their wolf form you know. That's what we did. We were all illegal Animagi. None of us registered. I ask you, Harry, not to tell anyone that I am one. It's the only thing keeping me sane in this forsaken place. It took us a better part of three years to work it out and accomplish it, but we did. That's the kind of man your father was. He didn't care how dangerous it was, didn't care that it was illegal for us to be attempting it, he did it because he felt that's what you do for your friends. You make their life easier for them, you stand beside them in their darkest hours, you never abandon them. Those ideas that James held, it's what made him not see Peter as the traitor. In turn, it's what made me not see Peter as the traitor. I was as much foolish and devoted to my friends as he was. I turned just as many blind eyes, made excuses for odd behaviors, because how could a friend that had become a brother ever betray us?"

There was a haunted look that crossed Sirius' face. Harry had no idea what to say. The words that Sirius spoke swirled around in his head and assaulted his brain. His father was so loyal, so unfaltering loyal that he couldn't see one of his best friends was in league with Voldemort and would betray him. Yet, Sirius had just been as loyally stupid in the end.

"I won't tell anyone," Harry decided to say because he had nothing else to say.

"What?" Sirius questioned.

"About being an Animagus. I won't tell anyone."

In those words, Harry was trying to communicate to Sirius that he believed him, trusted him. He would keep his godfather's secret to make life in prison easier for him. Even after he exposed Peter Pettigrew for what he was, he would still hold onto his godfather's secret. He'd carry it to the grave if he was asked to.

"What… what are you and what was my dad?"

"I'm a big, black dog. James was a stag." Sirius sighed with a faint smiling crossing his features. "We had nicknames; you know. I was Padfoot, your dad was Prongs, Remus was Moony, and Peter… he was Wormtail."

"Sirius…" Harry started but didn't know how to put into words what he wanted to say.

"I'm glad you came. I'm glad you read my letter and wrote back," he said with his voice thick with emotion. "I wrote Remus, you know, when I was first arrested. I tried to explain but I don't know if he even read it. I suppose it helped that you had no notion of me before."

"Why did nobody believe you?" Harry questioned as though not understanding.

He could not imagine Ron going to prison for heinous crimes and not going to see him to ask why, to hear him out. He felt like he would have been like his father, insanely loyal to his friends to a fault. He wondered why Peter and Remus did not feel the same way as James and Sirius had.

"I suppose it was due to a lot of reasons, Harry. I can't pinpoint an exact reason. Maybe it's my name and my heritage that did me in. My own little brother was a Death Eater, as were my cousins and their husbands. My parents were never Death Eaters but they thought that he had the right ideas about the world. I was the outcast in the family, the only Black to be sorted into Gryffindor and not Slytherin in the whole line. I was labeled a blood traitor, an abomination. I was disowned by most of my family," Sirius spoke in a dark tone, a deep frown creasing in his forehead. "Or, perhaps, it was because I laughed in the streets that day. Maybe it gave off the wrong impression. I feel like if I had been an Auror who appeared on the scene and saw some lunatic laughing madly in the streets surrounded by dead bodies, I'd think pretty badly of him. I laughed, Harry, I laughed all the way to Azkaban. I laughed as they put chains on my wrists and ankles, laughed as they took my booking photo, laughed as they seared my prison number onto my neck, I laughed until they slammed the bloody doors on my cell. I laughed not because it was amusing but because I couldn't believe the situation that I had found myself in. I felt like I went a little mad that day. The grief of losing your parents… the pure anger I felt towards Peter… the fact that I had let you down and lost you. I just laughed."

Harry sat very quietly as his godfather talked. There was a troubling edge of tension on his words that made a chill run up his spine. He couldn't imagine anybody laughing like mad surrounded by dead bodies. Harry thought that's what sealed his fate. He couldn't imagine seeing such a scene and thinking there was any possibility that he'd be innocent.

"Do you want me to write Remus for you?" Harry asked, not feeling sure if he actually wanted to talk to the man who abandoned his friend without question and who had never written or come to see his dead best friend's son.

"You can do whatever you like, Harry. Whatever makes you feel comfortable."

"Do you… do you think it's stupid of me to be mad at him? Remus, a man I never met?"

"Why are you mad at him?"

"I'm mad that he wasn't as loyal to you as you were to him. I'm mad that he was so close to my parents and yet never thought to even contact me. You knew how horrid my aunt and uncle are… he must have known too."

"I'm not sure what Remus knew or didn't know. James and I told each other everything. We told each other things that we didn't tell Remus and Peter," Sirius said thoughtfully. "You've forgotten one bit of information that could make all the difference though. Remus may have been forbidden to contact you. He's a werewolf and most wizards don't think too kindly of them."

"You weren't supposed to contact me either seeing as you're a crazed mass murderer, but here I am," Harry snapped bitterly back, harsher than he intended to, forcing the corners of Sirius' lips to turn downwards. "You and my dad did something illegal for him without batting an eye."

"Try not to think too badly of him. Remus, being what he is, could face far more dire consequences than James and I could have. I don't mean to sound pretentious, but James and I come from very old, very rich wizarding families. If we had been caught trying to become Animagi, your grandfather would have paid James' way out of trouble. Even though my family hated me, I'm sure my father would have done the same to avoid any scandal. If he wouldn't, I was close enough with your grandparents that they probably would have paid my way out of trouble. Remus doesn't have that. He doesn't come from a rich family or a powerful one like James and I did."

"If your family is so powerful and would want to avoid scandal, why are you here?" questioned Harry trying to understand.

"Oh, because my mother would have thought my killing Muggles and betraying a blood traitor like James Potter would have been a lovely topic of conversation over tea. She would have liked the attention it got, liked to have people believe I turned out just as nasty and twisted as she had hoped I would."

"Your family sounds like its filled with a bunch of fun people," Harry commented dryly. "They remind me of the Dursleys."

A bark-like laugh echoed throughout the small room which caused the corners of Harry's mouth to twitch. For a split second, Harry forgot that he was in Azkaban and his godfather was across him in chains. He felt like he was sitting in a parlor, talking causally with the man. Any doubt in his mind that this man was a murderer or dangerous was gone. He knew, one hundred percent knew, this man was innocent.

The door burst open and Kinglsey Shacklebolt appeared.

"Time's up."

Harry nodded numbly, his hands bracing against the table and forced himself up into a standing position. The chair was pushed back as he stood, his legs suddenly not feeling like moving. He watched as Sirius leaned forward, his hand extending out to Harry as far as the chains would allow it to go, his palm upwards. Harry took a step around the table, standing closer to him than he had before. He started to raise his hand to place it into his godfather's but stopped midair. It didn't seem… right.

Then, without thinking, Harry did something he had never done before. He took two more steps closer to Sirius and bent down, his arms snaking around the man's neck. Harry couldn't remember ever initiating a hug before. He felt Sirius tense underneath him and he vaguely wondered if he made some terrible mistake. As quickly as the tension came, it left. He heard the rattling of chains and felt Sirius's hands touching his elbow.

"I believe you," Harry whispered and continued fiercely, "I'm going to find Peter and I'm going to get you out of here."

Harry pulled back from the hug, feeling his own determined tears prickling his eyes. He was going to save the man in front of him, save his dad's best friend, save his godfather. Sirius stared at him in what looked like pride. They smiled at each other. Harry suddenly realized he didn't want to leave. He wanted to stay in that room forever and talk to his godfather.

"Harry, I want you to know that I love you. I always have and always will. Maybe, when this is all over with… we can be a proper family."

Joy burst inside of Harry like lightning. Every inch of his body exploded with excitement of the very prospect of leaving the Dursleys and living with his godfather. It was funny how he had just met the man and he had already felt such love and admiration for him. He wanted nothing more than to be his family.

"I'll come back and visit before I head off to Hogwarts. I promise you," he spoke in a thick voice. "I'll write you too."

He took a few steps backwards, his gaze lingering on the man in front of him. He offered what he hoped was an encouraging smile before turning around to face Shacklebolt. The man had a scowl on his face, looking disapprovingly between the two. Once in the doorway, Harry turned around one last time to look at his godfather. He raised a hand in the air and weakly waved before fully exiting the room.

This is an idea I haven't been able to get out of my head for awhile now. Please, review to let me know if I should continue. Thanks!