Disclaimer: I still do not own Harry Potter.
Author's Note: I am so incredibly sorry I haven't updated this in a while. Real life has been so crazy lately and I've been up and down emotionally. Everything has settled down now, and I feel like I can finally breathe again. I promise that I will try to update more frequently from now on.
I am astounded by the number of favorites and followers this story has now, and I am so incredibly grateful. Thank you guys all so, so, so much!
One of my reviewers said that they thought the last chapter was a waste of time. I'm really sorry to hear that. I understand chapters with background information can sometimes be boring, but in this case, I felt it was important to give Dumbledore's point of view on how he felt about everything going on, and his role in it all. Hopefully this chapter will be a lot better.
Someone else mentioned that even now, Muggles would think, even if they saw a witch or wizard doing magic in a YouTube video or on Facebook, they would be oblivious to it and think of it as just something strange that couldn't be explained, and I see what you mean. I guess it depends on what exactly the person did, and what the Muggle in question thought about the supernatural.
Anyway, this chapter throws a definite wrinkle into things. Some of you guessed Sirius would be involved, and you were right. It will be explained later whether Dumbledore is involved. I also can tell you, this is not going to be a "Sirius is reunited with Harry, Harry grows to love the wizarding world, and everybody lives happily ever after" story. The relationships will be complicated, emotional roller coasters that will take Harry and the other characters on many journeys, where they will learn a lot about Muggles, the magical world, and themselves.
I hope you enjoy it!
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Sirius Black sat bolt upright in his Azkaban cell, trembling with emotional agony after the nightmare he'd just had. After almost ten years of this hellish existence, the torment hadn't gotten any easier to bear. The Dementors would dredge up horrific memories during his waking hours, and while he slept, the nightmares would torture him.
Every day, he relived the memory of Lily and James's lifeless bodies, the tear tracks still on Lily's face. If he'd gotten there five minutes earlier ... could he have saved them? Their frozen faces, the heartbreak, the open, blank eyes staring up at the ceiling, the pleading expression on Lily's face, the cries of Harry as he lay in his crib, surrounded by rubble as his mother wouldn't wake up ... Peter, the malicious expression he shot at Sirius before he blew the street apart, raining debris everywhere ... and Sirius's mad laughter, unable to believe they had all been tricked by the runty little boy who had once been considered a brother. ...
When it all became too much, Sirius would turn into his dog form, and he would lie in his cell and listen to the shrieks of the other prisoners. The incessant screams of "My Lord shall come for me! He will reward me for my faith and my loyalty!" constantly rang out from the cell next to his. Oh, how he longed to somehow find his way in there and shut her up once and for all. Bellatrix was the lowest of the low, the vilest of the vile. And the fact that she was related to him was the worst torture of all. He could imagine the comments that the rest of the wizarding world made about them. "They're both unhinged, insane lunatics. I hope they never see the light of day again."
Suddenly, Sirius was pulled out of his depressing thoughts by the sound of footsteps coming towards his cell. Footsteps? He hardly ever heard footsteps in this Godforsaken place. Screams, cackles, insults, taunts, sobs, praise of the Dark Lord ... those were common noises in Azkaban Prison, but not footsteps. Dementors didn't walk, after all. Their breaths rattled, and the cells would grow freezing whenever they passed, but nothing like that happened this time.
Usually, it was only once a year that footsteps were ever heard around here. The Minister of Magic would make an annual trip to inspect the prison, and there would always be two or three Auror guards with him. The Minister would always be carrying chocolate in his possession, too, to counteract the chilling effects of the dementors. Sirius had almost forgotten the rich taste of chocolate as it melted in his mouth. That had been a lifetime ago, a remnant of the past that seemed forever out of reach now.
Was it really that time of year again? Sirius thought. The days blended into one another, and Sirius always lost track of time. Did it honestly matter what day it was anymore?
Minister Fudge was coming closer. Sirius heard him stop by Bellatrix's cell. The woman contained within screamed and cursed at him and the Aurors, making Sirius's ears ring. "The Dark Lord will return!" she cackled, and Sirius could imagine those mad, glittering eyes of hers and the insane smile that curled her lips. "You will all die, and I will be vindicated!"
"Shut up, you lunatic bitch," Sirius heard one of the Aurors mutter, and he couldn't help but snort in amusement.
"Let's move on," Fudge said briskly, wanting to get away as fast as he could. The next cell, of course, was Sirius's.
As Fudge and his entourage arrived, Sirius could see that he looked exactly the same. He had that stupid lime green bowler hat on his head, and in his hand was the Daily Prophet. It had been so long since Sirius read the paper, and he wondered what was happening in the wizarding world.
"Hello, Minister," said Sirius in a falsely bright tone. This was the only part of the year he enjoyed - the fact that he seemed to be the only sane one in the prison perturbed the Minister to no end, and Sirius used this to his advantage. If this was the only pleasure he could get in life anymore, he would take it. "How are you and your Aurors doing today?"
"Black," Fudge said shortly, clearly displaying fear on his face. His Aurors clutched their wands tighter, as if Sirius would suddenly open his cell door, spring out, and murder them all. The sight was so pathetic that it made him smirk, and Fudge shrank back from him. But in the next moment, his so-called bravado returned as he said, "Interesting goings-on around the wizarding world these days, you know."
"Oh yeah?" asked Sirius. "And what do you mean by that, Minister?"
"Oh, just the fact that a lot has happened since you've been languishing in here," Fudge sneered at him. "Your godson, in particular, has given us a surprise."
For the first time in ten years, Sirius felt himself come to life. The spark that had kept him going was suddenly a flame, and he demanded, "What the bloody hell are you talking about? What about Harry?"
"Oh, you're still calling him Harry?" said an Auror. Sirius realized by the voice that it was the same one who had called Bellatrix a "lunatic bitch". "I thought that you'd be referring to him as the destroyer of your Lord." He spat the last word out like he was expelling poison from his mouth.
Sirius's hackles rose, and he glowered at Fudge and the Aurors through the bars. With his yellow teeth, emaciated face, straggly hair, and haunted, hollow gray eyes, he knew he looked like a skeleton, and as much as he despised this, he enjoyed using it to scare the group. The Auror instantly stepped back, and Sirius could see that he was holding his wand in a vicelike grip.
"Tell me, Fudge. What is going on with my godson?" Sirius demanded, all feigned politeness and civility gone. "I have the right to know!"
"The right to know? YOU have the right to know?" Fudge spat, his face red and blotchy with anger. "When you had his parents murdered, and wanted him dead too?"
"Oh, come on Minister, just give him the paper and let's get the hell out of here," said another Auror. "It's not like he can do anything about it, can he? If he really wants to know ..."
"Fine," Fudge growled. "Have it your way, you traitor." With a vicious snarl, Fudge handed the paper through the bars to Sirius, who snatched it before the Minister could change his mind.
"There you go. Rot in hell, Black," the enraged Minister sneered before he and the Aurors walked away from the cell.
As their footsteps grew fainter and fainter, Sirius breathed deeply, trying to calm down. His blood pounded in his veins, and there was a roaring sound in his ears. He hadn't felt so angry with someone else, other than himself, Voldemort, and Peter, in a long, long time. His heart was racing, and his hands shook violently. He felt like the fog that he'd been trapped in had suddenly cleared, and after a few more seconds, he finally brought his eyes to the Daily Prophet. It was dated Tuesday, July 16, 1991. He stared at the date, still unable to wrap his mind around the fact that he'd been rotting in here for almost ten years. He also realized, with a jolt of heartache, that it would be Harry's birthday in a few weeks. His eleventh birthday. He would soon be starting at Hogwarts; his magical education was about to begin.
Before he could get lost in more morose thoughts, Sirius began to read the day's headline.
And what he saw shocked him beyond belief.
In big, bold letters was written:
HARRY POTTER, BOY-WHO-LIVED, REFUSES TO ATTEND HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY!
Sirius found that he couldn't read the article fast enough. He just had to know what was going on; why on Merlin's green Earth was Harry refusing to go to Hogwarts? As he read, he learned that Harry had said no to his acceptance letter, stating that he was happy in the Muggle world and that he didn't want to be a "symbol to the people". He wanted to learn to be a doctor, and he was happy living with the Dursley family and didn't want to leave them behind. Thanks, but no thanks - he wanted no part of the wizarding world, and even wanted his magic removed.
Sirius was numb. His mind raced with thoughts - he could remember Petunia and Vernon Dursley all too well. When Hagrid had informed him, on that terrible, life-changing night, that Harry was to go and live with them, Sirius had been appalled. But he hadn't been thinking straight - looking back, he knew that Harry should have been his first priority, but instead, he hunted Peter down, his heart full of bloodlust and revenge. He wanted Peter dealt with, and then he promised himself he'd go back for Harry. He wouldn't be able to breathe again until the score was settled. And he'd realized, far too late, that this had been a fatal mistake. By doing that, he'd condemned Harry to a life with the most vile, awful people imaginable.
He remembered with crystal clarity how Petunia had treated Lily, the abominable, disgusting things that had come out of her mouth after their parents had been tortured and murdered by Death Eaters. She had blamed Lily for being a witch, and said that by all accounts, it was her fault Mr. and Mrs. Evans were gone. She swore and spat, calling Lily a freak, and telling her never to darken her doorstep again. The tears that had streamed down Lily's face had fallen like rain, and she'd begged and pleaded with her sister to forgive her, but it was to no avail. Lily had been inconsolable; in one fell swoop, she'd lost her parents and her sister.
And yet, Dumbledore had decided that the best place to put Harry was with Vernon and Petunia. Sirius wished with all his might that he'd fought Hagrid harder, that he hadn't gone running for revenge when Lily and James had trusted him to look after their little boy. When the time had come, Sirius had broken his promise to his very best friend, and done an incredible wrong to his godson. What had his pup been through these past ten years? What prompted his refusal to go to Hogwarts? Had Petunia and Vernon caused him to hate magic?
The more he thought about it, though, the more Sirius honestly didn't care whether Harry went to Hogwarts or not. He didn't give a damn what the wizarding world expected of him; all he cared about was his safety. He read the article several more times, absorbing everything he could get out of it. How had the press found out about all this? Had the information been given to them on purpose? As Sirius pondered this, he had a suspicion. Was Dumbledore responsible for this? Sirius knew he took great stock in this so-called prophecy where his precious godson was to either kill or be killed. The thought caused rage, grief, and fear to course through Sirius in equal measure. The sweet little boy which he used to make gentle woofing noises at when he turned into the black dog, the boy with the bright green eyes and adorable smile, the boy which he'd last seen on that horrific night when he handed him over to Hagrid ... that boy was to one day defeat the darkest wizard in a century, or that wizard would defeat him. It was a real possibility Sirius could lose him. Voldemort was gone for now, but there were rumblings in Azkaban that he would return. Sirius wanted to hope that the prisoners were just delusional, especially his insane cousin, but the way the Dark Lord's cloak had been lying next to Lily, with no body to prove he was really dead ... it sent chills down Sirius's spine. Something told him that this was not the last the wizarding world would see of the monster.
And Harry was in danger. If he didn't learn to protect himself, how could he possibly defend himself against the Dark Lord or any Death Eater that tried to get to him? Sirius didn't care about the bloody prophecy - it could go straight to Hell for all he cared. He didn't want Harry to have anything to do with Voldemort, but he knew the tyrant and his band of sycophants wouldn't stop coming after Harry. The thought of his godson, defenseless, with only Muggles to protect him, filled him with terror.
And he would honestly love to think that Petunia and Vernon had had a change of heart, that they had learned to care for Harry and that Petunia had regretted treating her little sister so horribly. People can change, and you know it, a little voice whispered in his mind. This might be her way of protecting her nephew from getting mixed up in all this. She saw what happened to her parents and her sister, and she thinks that if she keeps Harry away from magic, it won't happen to him.
This helped to soothe the guilty conscience he'd had ever since he arrived in Azkaban, knowing that Harry was to stay with people who had treated his best friends with such loathing and contempt. He hoped and prayed that this was the case, that Harry had been taken care of, and had grown up with a family that loved him. He knew the Dursleys had a son of their own, and he wanted so badly to know that the boy and Harry were like the best of friends.
But even if all this is the case, he's still in danger, Sirius thought, the flame that had been in his heart since he'd first heard Fudge mention Harry's name only getting hotter. I've been an awful, rubbish godfather, wasting away in here for all these years. Whatever the situation, whether he learns magic or not, even if just how to control his accidental magic - I have to protect him. He knew that Harry's inadvertent magical outbursts would be something the Ministry would worry about, and they would surely insist Harry learn how to tame his powers. But whatever happened, Sirius thought, a firm resolve strengthening within him, I have to do something.
He began to pace in the cell, back and forth, back and forth, as energy pounded through him for the first time in an eternity. His mind was alive with ideas, the cogs in his brain thrumming with activity. Harry, Harry, Harry. For once, the Dementors didn't make him crumble. Because the thought of Harry in danger was not at all a happy one; therefore the Dementors could not suck it out of him.
And, several days later, when they opened his cell to put his food dish inside, Sirius slipped out as a matted, emaciated black dog, and they didn't notice. He made his way through the dark, bleak corridors, knowing exactly where he was going, because one of his worst memories, one which he'd relived over and over again, was the day he'd been brought in here, and he'd never forget the exact route he was taken on as he was dragged to his cell, screaming and laughing and shouting about a traitorous, stinking, thrice-damned rat.
And then, before he knew it, he was out of the prison and jumping into the ocean. As the cold water stung his fur and he tasted salt, which did not come from tears, for the first time in so, so long, he vowed to find Harry. He was going back to his godson, come hell or high water. The Aurors and Fudge thought he couldn't do anything? He'd show them.
He damn could, and he damn would.