This chapter is dedicated to Black Panther and Dark Phoenix, who gave me good kicks in the butt when I needed it.  Thanks a lot guys, I hope this is to your satisfaction. ^_^

I have a little speech/apology/explanation thing at the end that I would like my readers to see.  I think I owe you guys an explanation.

J Palmgren: I have a response for your review at the end of the chapter in case you don't get through the whole thing.  I wish you wouldn't give up on my story, but I can't stop you.

Part 6: Close Every Door to Me

The room where the intended banishment was to take place was like any other room.  It had its fireplace in case of swift travel, and a desk filled with unfinished paperwork.  The walls were littered with pictures of different people and places.  Some held degrees the owner had earned, or honors they had been bestowed with.  A few candles were lit, no more so than was necessary and no less.

Such a room would usually be considered highly improper for a magical banishment.  These ceremonies were for the most heinous of criminals and were to evict them from their place in the wizarding world.  Such ceremonies were usually public, to show would-be offenders the penalty of such horrible crimes.

However, this one banishment ceremony held precedence over tradition.  It would have brought together every witch, wizard, and magical creature in the entire world.  Such publicity was both improper, and impossible to manage.  Therefore, the simple procedure was to be carried out in a small, private office where no one but the witnesses would be able to see.

The Minister had been more than eager to have the banishment ceremony in his very own office.  Legally, all a banishment ceremony needed was him, the criminal, guards, a banisher, and a few witnesses.  Thankfully, all were present.

The only sound in the office was the quiet voice of the official banisher as he read from an old sheet of parchment.  His voice was soft and soothing to hear, yet its message was filled with sorrow and the most painful of separations.

"…You are therefore banished from all things magical.  You are never to touch a wand again or utter a single spell.  You are sentenced to a lifetime in Azkaban.  You are now banished from the entire magical world."  The words meant to damn Harry hit their intended mark and the boy flinched as though he were physically struck.

The banisher, the stout wizard who was the foreman of the jury, finished the reading at last.  He did not look at the boy he was banishing for he feared he might crack if he did.  He was not sorry for finding the boy guilty, indeed he felt personally betrayed despite his vow to remain impartial.  Harry was supposed to be the symbol of hope for the younger generation.  The wizard had grown up in a world of fear and it was because of the Boy Who Lived that his children were not locked away in a safehouse.  To betray his kinsmen by becoming that which he defeated was unforgivable.  He felt sorry that he was sentencing a boy to life in prison, when one of his sons was only 2 years younger than Harry.  But it had to be done.

He handed a wand around the circle of witnesses and officials, each person silently or verbally renouncing Harry's name as anything to do with their world.  Sirius' voice shook as he uttered the phrase, but he managed to choke his way through it.  Finally, the wand landed in the hands of the Minister of Magic himself.

Fudge could not be considered an evil being.  Even many of his opponents, including Dumbledore, could never call him malicious.  He did his job with the greatest amount of respectability, and if it weren't for his foolish pride, he could be considered one of the century's greatest wizards.  However, it still gave the Minister a small amount of satisfaction to hold the magical object in his hands and watch the boy in front of him cringe.  This boy had been nothing but trouble from the start, and it would give him great pleasure to see him locked away where he could harm no one else.  And it gave him no small amount of justification to hear the boy's soft cry of despair as the wand was snapped in two and the banishment made complete.

Of course, the boy could not know this, but the Minister would never snap a criminal's real wand.  It could be purged of its evil spells and resold as used.  Or, if a case were especially trying or hard, they would keep it in one of the Ministry's warehouses in case of future need.  The snapped wand was no more than an enchanted piece of carved wood; designed to react to being broken, but no more magical than that.

With the last formality met, the Ministry could now wipe his hands clean of the boy.  He signed away his custody to the officials of Azkaban, and in doing so, he signed away the boy's very life, mind, and soul.

Sirius watched stonily as Harry was led out of his life for the last time.  Outside, he was the perfect image of calm other than his blunder earlier.  Moony could see his anxiety, of course, but he was the only one.  Inside, though, he was dying.  Despite everything.  Despite all that Harry did or did not do, Sirius still loved him.  He knew he always would.  And that thought haunted him like no other.

He felt the Minister's eyes on him as he watched Harry being led out.  His conversation with Fudge still left him burning.  The Minister was fake and foolish.  All he cared about was his status.  Such was the case months before when he and Remus were alone in their search for Javen and Harry.  How had things gotten so bad that he was now taking orders from the Minister?

He had not given up Harry by choice.  Once guilt was ascertained, Fudge had come to Sirius to gain custody of Harry.  It was to make things easier, he had said.  Castor had done the same with Sirius all those years ago, it was a common action for underage prisoners.  The government needed to take custody of them in order to put them away.  But it had been so hard for Sirius to sign that parchment.  He had no choice.  Of that, he could still claim.

*          *            *

As a child, Harry never had to know what Azkaban really was.  Why it was so feared and so hated by all who came into contact with it.  He had heard stories, of course, from his friends and teachers.  He had heard how your mind is left to rot and you are nothing but a shell in the end.  However, he did not know much that another would have.  Sirius would never describe to him what hell he had gone through.  How those who were cursed with a strong mind that rotted slower than the others would slice themselves open with their own fingernails in desperation.  He could not know these things, yet he was now being forced to learn quickly and adapt.

Being led through the inner sanctum of the prison, Harry realized at last what hell truly was.  The lower levels had seemed like endless torture with no end in sight.  It was not until Harry had to move to his new cell that he realized how wrong that was.

The dementors' icy grips were tight and pained him terribly.  Their frigid breath on his neck was a constant enemy trying to reach his soul.  He did not know how he forced himself to walk on, yet he did.  He did not have anywhere to go anyway.  Was it not better to surrender to them and suffer insanity than to remember the pain he left behind?

A claw-like hand shot through the cold steel bars, seizing Harry's oversized prison robes.  Jerking Harry to him, the prisoner sneered in his face.  A pang of fear shot through the boy as he looked into the prisoner's eyes.  They were large and bulbous, certainly much too large to belong in such a long gaunt face.  But what frightened him the most was the stare he received.  Blank, his eyes were, and unfocused.  Milky-glazed eyes burned wildly into Harry, not seeing him, but some long ago forgotten memory.

"We must be patient, my lord," the prisoner cackled, his scruffy beard absorbing the spittle.  "For the king's daughter is yet among the flowers, and the sun is not dancing on the child's grave.  Be patient, Lord Saul, I will come to thee by the moonlight!"

The dementors tore Harry from the mad prisoner's clutches.  One leered down to the prisoner, hissing softly as though a mother hushing her child goodnight.  The prisoner's glazed sapphire eyes widened larger, if it were even possible, and he scurried to the far side of the wall, whimpering.  Harry knew how he felt.

The dementors placed him in the cell next to the whimpering prisoner, much to Harry's dismay.  He did not want to be anywhere near that man, or his mad mutterings.  Yet, he had little choice in the matter.  He stumbled to the other end of his cell, trying to put as much distance as possible between him and the dementors.  The creatures hissed in laughter and glided away to their post at the door.

Harry looked fearfully around him.  The mad, shining eyes of the people around him made him want to cry out, but the fear made his throat like dust and he could only hack and cough.  He backed away into the wall, trying to push away the sounds of his parents dying over and over to the delight of Voldemort.  He felt as though the mad people around him were focusing only on him, watching him in mute fascination.  Their eyes shone eerily in the moonlight, making them appear as animals rather than humans.

In his fear, Harry came across a faint, but familiar smell.  It was musty and old, but it pulled at his memory, crying out to him to be remembered.  Kneeling down by the straw 'bed', he could feel old footprints in the decades old dust and dirt.  No, not footprints.  Pawprints.  They were the pawprints of a very large dog.  Padfoot.  This was Padfoot's old cell.

//"All I wanted was to make you happy.//

//"Innocent?  How can you be innocent if you don't remember how your hands got to be covered in their blood, your wand filled with Dark curses?  No, Harry.  This is no case of missing fingers and loud explosions and laughing lunatics.  Only of Dark Magic.  And its wielder."//

Harry curled up in the straw bed fearful of his new surroundings.  The scent of his father floated around teasingly, reminding him of all he lost.  His only family hated him and he may as well die for all Sirius cared.  Harry christened his first night in Azkaban with tears; new tears upon the stains of older ones.  For he could not know how similar he was to Sirius Black in that moment, crying his heart out on that cold stone floor, yearning for his father to take back those hateful words.

//"Petunia, run!  He's mad!"//

*          *            *

A sharp clanging on the steel bars jolted Harry awake.  He bolted upright, still trying to remained curled up in his defensive ball.  He eyes, aching from crying so much, refused to focus properly.  Then he remembered his lack of glasses and gave up trying.

"Kid!  Hey, kid!"

He turned toward the sound, wondering if he had gone mad already, for he surely couldn't have heard another voice with him in the cell.  Yet, if it was an illusion brought on by madness, it was a very realistic one.  It would not let him sleep, but kept shaking him and clanging on the bars.

"Good, you're up," The 'illusion' said.  He sat back against the bars as though the madness around him had no effect.  "I thought you were dead for a minute.  Was gonna have the Orcs get rid of your carcass."

"Who are you?" asked Harry cautiously.  He was now certain that this man was no illusion, but then that meant he was enclosed with one of the wizarding world's worst of criminals.

"Good," the mysterious man barked in laughter, "You're not crazy either.  That was the other thing I was worried about.  Name's Bouche.  Bren Bouche.  And let me guess, kid.  You're that Harry Potter."

Bren had an accent that was easy enough to place.  He was obviously American, but then, why was he in a British prison?

"I-well… yeah, I'm him.  Why are you…"

"Here?  Easy, kid.  Your dad, or godfather, or whatever you're calling him these days is responsible for these accommodations.  Him and that blasted Unspeakable!"  His eyes narrowed in anger and he struck the cell bars.  Then, just as easily as he had drifted into anger, he relaxed again.  "Apparently, my crimes are so 'heinous and unthinkable' that I got a first class ticket to Azkaban.  But then…I suppose it could be worse."

Worse?  Harry didn't know how life was in the U.S., but whatever it was, he doubted it could be worse than Azkaban.  Maybe this guy was the one who was unhinged.

"I'd rather be here, in a freaking madhouse, than out there as a sniveling coward.  I'm proud to be here for my Master."

"You're a Death Eater," muttered Harry, trying not to let his fear betray him.  Bren chuckled humorously as though he had made a comment on the weather.

"Don't look so surprised, kid.  I bet you've seen more than one in your time.  Never seen one this close up before?"

"N-not really, no."

Bren smiled, "Well, if we're gonna be roommates for the time bein, let's get a few things straight.  I ain't gonna hurt you for the simple fact that, frankly, you amuse me.  And you ain't nuts.  That's a plus.  And who knows?  With you bein here, maybe I can show you how life should really be lived.  Who your Master really is."

"I'd rather go to Hell than join the Death Eaters," Harry said firmly.  The first straight answer he had been able to give in weeks.  Bren, however, was unfazed and unimpressed.

He barked another laugh, similar to the dog-like laugh of his father.  "Well, don't tell anyone I said this but… rumor has it, this is Hell, kid.  You're already there, so it don't matter."

"It matters to me."

Bren shrugged, leaning back against the bars, oblivious to the glazed stares around him.  "Have it your way.  I said I wouldn't bother you, didn't I?"

Harry decided not to grace that with a remark, so he settled back down to his straw 'bed'.  He noted that Bren had one as well, only it was closer to the cell door than his.  Sirius had never wanted to discuss Azkaban at all in great detail.  But what Harry did know was all the prisoners, be they young or old, lost their minds eventually.  The newer ones were stronger at first, more full of themselves, harder to break.  In groups they took much longer to go 'quiet' as he often spoke of it.  Especially if their horrid crimes were ones they were proud of.  But they all went silent in the end.  Harry knew the chances were slim that the American would keep his mind, but the small conversation with the criminal had made the pain seem duller if only for a few moments. 

If Bren were to join his predecessors in their madness, it would surely draw Harry in as well.  Bren's strong mind was one that could be drawn upon for strength in times of need.  It didn't matter at this point who Bren was or who it was he stood for.  They were all brothers here.  Sirius himself had said so about the prison.  Murderers, Death Eaters, rapists, thieves, innocent teenagers… all were brothers in this hellish prison.  Each fate was the same, each prisoner was treated, dressed, and fed the same.  If it were not such a horrid place, it would be a good place of learning for the world.  Perhaps all one needed to do was spend an extended period of time in such a place to learn the true meaning of equality.

He drifted back into sleep wondering about this new paradox he had discovered in the hated halls of Azkaban.  Hermione would enjoy such a puzzle.  No!  Don't think about her!  If you think about her, you'll think of the great times you had together.  Keep your thoughts dark and miserable.  Think of sadness.  Think of Sirius.

Only 4 months ago and Harry would have done anything to be able to think of Sirius.  But that was forbidden to him.  Now, it was the only thing that kept him alive.  Thinking of Sirius and his hateful words was something the dementors could never take away.

*          *            *

//Never before had the Dursley household been so quiet.  It had been one thing when Harry still lived at 4 Privet Drive and odd occurrences were commonplace. But to see the boy, furious like they had never seen him, at their doorstep, they didn't know what to think.

Now they all sat in the living room, oblivious to the fact that they were so frightened of a mere child.  Harry was pacing back and forth, debating with them angrily, when suddenly a loud explosion ripped through the house.  Petunia's expensive china shattered and flew across the room, imbedding themselves into whatever soft object they hit.  Pieces of furniture imploded upon themselves.

Without thinking, Harry ripped out his wand, anger and fear making his instincts strong and his magic particularly powerful.  Catching his first glimpse of the attacker, he shouted out strings of incantations, some still imbedded in his memory from past 'dueling lessons' with Javen.  And for the second time in his life, the power flowed through him with an ease that would put an Auror to shame.

The attacker was caught offguard, and did not have the skill to keep up with such attacks.  So, choosing a different tactic, the intruder discovered 3 other targets to keep the young wizard busy enough for the work to be completed...//

*          *            *

Consciousness came and went for Harry in the prison walls.  Though he was next to a window, day and night held little more significance for him other than it could give him a rough idea as to mealtimes and trips to the 'latrine pits'.  As always the sane, who were the only ones allowed out of their cell for any reason, were accompanied by an Orc or dementor.

Orcs were not as affected by the dementors because of their naturally irritable and sour minds.  Thus they made up much of the island's small workforce. A human employee was a rare occurrence, and were you to find one sane enough to speak with, you would find the reasons behind their employment even more unpleasant. 

But it was the Orc that gave Azkaban the extra shiver down your spine when you said it.  They let the inmates know who was the God of their lives.  They let you know who would live, who would die, and who was merely born to suffer.  It was not in their interests or nature to physically torture their prisoners, so Harry had no fear of that.  They were just simply cruel, breaking spirits as though they were bodies.  Dementors carried fear, Orcs carried anger.

Therefore, it was with great trepidation that Harry looked up.  Footsteps down the halls were not good things to hear.  Dementors made no sound as they made their way through the corridors, and new prisoners were rare, but noisy.  Only Orcs moved with such decisive gaits.  Harry closed his eyes and curled up in ball.  Perhaps if they thought him sleeping, they wouldn't bother him this time.  Bren seemed to take no notice.  He had drifted into an eerie humming 2 days ago.  It was hard to snap him from it, but from the still fierce look in Bren's deep blue eyes, Harry knew he was not all gone.

"Dis dem dere," an Orc announced, "Two o de Elfies yeh wanted."

"Thank you," another voice said with an accent, "I will call for you when I need you."

"We stay," another Orc voice argued, "No'uns lef' alone 'ere."

"Don't you trust me?" the softer voice said amused.

"We dona trust us'ns le'lone yeh Yanks.  We dona trust yeh fer nuthin."

"Very well," the voice conceded, "But I wish to speak with them privately.  Stand over there where you can see me."

Apparently the Orcs agreed, for their heavy clawed feet stomped away.

"I hope you find your stay pleasant, Bren," the voice said in a silky smooth voice.  The accented voice had an edge to it that betrayed his sarcasm.  Bren made no reply, but continued to hum.

Curiosity finally getting the better of him, Harry pushed his upper body up with his hands to see the newcomer.  The man was as tall as Sirius, but had long sandy hair tied back in a low ponytail.  His eyes were large and brown and filled with warmth.  The man was dressed in robes so black they shimmered blue in the cloudy daylight.

"Hello, Harry," the man said softly, almost fearfully.

"Hello," he replied just as timidly, "Who are you?"

The man smiled softly, a smile of relief, "I was afraid you were already gone.  The Orcs told me you were very nearly broken."

"No, sir.  Not yet."

"That's good."  He looked around the prison as if seeing it for the first time.  The mad prisoner that had 'greeted' Harry reached through his bars for the man's robes.  The man smoothly stepped beyond his reach and looked back at Harry.  "I'll give to the British, they know how to keep their prisoners here."

"You're American too," Harry said, recognizing his accent at last.  The American wizard nodded.

"I worked with your father two months ago.  I helped put Bren and his coven behind bars."  He shook his head regretfully, "I'm sorry you have to be burdened with this wretch now."  He spat at the humming Death Eater in anger.

"Are you Rabbit, sir?" asked Harry.  Sirius had mentioned an American Unspeakable who had worked with him closely for the 3 months spent in America.  Again the wizard nodded.

"That's me.  I was just on the way to pay Sirius a visit and wanted to check up on Bren here.  And you too," he added sheepishly.  "I wanted to see how you were getting along."

Harry didn't reply to that, for there was none to give.  Just looking at the man's pitied expression was enough to know that Rabbit had his answer.

"I'm sorry this had to happen, Harry," Rabbit said.  He really did look sorry.  "I've worked in the field for years; I started before you were born.  You may not care about what I think, and frankly I wouldn't either.  It's just… I believe there is more to this case than meets the eye.  Too many things were convenient, even for an amateur job of a murder by a 15 year old."

"Then… you believe me?  You think there might be a chance…"

"Don't get your hopes up, little one," Rabbit said quickly, "Don't give those dementor things anything more to feed on.  Don't even let yourself have hope.  Let's just say your father and I have some snooping around to do.  Whatever the outcome, I promise to find the truth.  You could be lying to me right now.  You could just be a cold-blooded murderer and no matter how much I dig, I won't be able to find a fragment of evidence in your favor."

"I can't remember a thing about that night," pleaded Harry crawling up to the bars.  "Please, Rabbit sir, I can't swear I'm innocent, because I don't know if I am!"

"I believe that, Harry.  It's impossible to not remember, yet I believe you."  He smiled softly, "With eyes like yours, I don't think you could lie to me successfully.  In fact, with killers you usually see some sort of… I don't know… change in their eyes.  Something that gives them away.  I see nothing of the sort in you."

"For all the good it'll do me," Harry grumbled.  "Try convincing everyone else that my eyes aren't evil."

"Well, surely Sirius…"

"…Could care less."  Tears sprung to Harry's eyes.  He wiped them away furiously.  Sirius wasn't worth his anger.  He promised never to make him cry.  That promise didn't last 6 months.

"But I'm sure he's…"

"He never gave me a chance," insisted Harry, "He disowned me first chance he got."

"Did he now?" mused Rabbit.  He shook his head, "I'll talk to him, Harry.  Things will work out, don't worry."  He turned to leave, but at the last moment, he looked back at the boy before him.  "I once heard that the only things worse than dragons were Americans.  Trust me, Harry.  I'll give both Sirius and the Ministry an earful."

Harry smiled slightly, "I do trust you, Rabbit."

"Good."

As Rabbit walked out of the hallways, the two Orcs by the door went on either side to escort him out.  They didn't give Harry a second glance, for which he was grateful.  He didn't think he could stand their cruel presence now.  Not now when he was granted some hope by the unexpected visitor.

A dementor drifted through the corridor, pausing at Harry and Bren's cell.  Immediately, the small spark of hope was sucked away from the boy violently.  He scuffled back to his straw sleeping mat, trying to get rid of the evil images flying through his mind.

//"Stand aside you silly girl!//

//"Run Lily!"//

//"Run Petunia!"//

//"He's here!"//

//"He's mad!"//

"Stop!" screamed Harry, holding his head in his hands, "Stop it!"

The dementor stayed where it was, intent on destroying its young prisoner.  They had been far too lenient with this one as of late.  Most would have lost themselves in the madness by now, but this mere child had thus far remained unbroken.  He had a strong spirit indeed.  But no spirit, no matter how strong, could withstand Azkaban for long.

"Go away!" shrieked Harry louder, "Leave me alone!"

When the dementor didn't move, he drew upon his own weapon against the madness.  Time to fight fire with fire.  He thought of the last summer.  Not the time when Sirius was officially pardoned.  Nor the time when Remus stayed up all night with him, telling stories, cooking dinner, and relaxing.  No, he thought of Javen Derios.  The only man who could say he still had a grip on the unbreakable Boy Who Lived.

He forced himself to relive the torment Javen placed on him.  The beatings, the manipulations, the self-loathing that ensued.  He relived it all, reeling from the intense pain.  He shut his eyes tightly, not wanting to 'see' the vision as he remembered the intense fear he had gone through.  The fear that Sirius would die in his insane attempts to rescue him.

Satisfied, the dementor strolled away, leaving a terrified boy in its wake.  Yes, the child would break.  And soon.  The boy did not have much left that the soul sucking fiends could still take away.

Collapsing to his straw bed in exhaustion, Harry tried to breathe in the scent of Padfoot.  The scent was still there, deep as always.  He feigned, like he often did, that he was still home.  His real home, the one with Sirius.  None of this ever happened, it was all a bad dream.  And in his imagination, he could swear he saw Sirius' eyes glow with the fierce love and pride that only a father could have.  He held Harry like he did when he was first brought to the hospital after the fight with Javen.  He held him tightly, afraid to break him, but more afraid that Harry would leave him.  His words, soothing and soft, were nothing like the ones Harry had heard as of late.  No, his cold and harsh voice was reserved only for those who would dare take Harry away from him.  That voice was for Javen, Wormtail, Voldemort, and Vernon.  He would die before he made his new son cry.  He had promised…

And with that promise, the vision faded away.  He was again on the hard cold stone.  The murmurs of the insane floated through the air as thick as magic.  Sirius' loving face fled.  "Sirius.  Please stay.  Don't leave me.  You promised you wouldn't leave me," moaned Harry, muffling his choked sobs into the musky, dog-scented straw.  It was with Sirius that he was not afraid to cry.  He was the only one, in fact, that would ever see Harry cry so shamelessly.  Crying was a silent affair always.  With the Dursleys under the stairs, in the boys' dormitories, in Javen's lair, and here in Azkaban.  He could not cry so recklessly less he be perceived as weak and troublesome.

"Hey, kid," a soft hand was placed on Harry's shaking shoulder.  "Kid, come on.  Look at me.  Don't lose it on me now."

Harry wearily looked up from the safety of his mat into the dark eyes of Bren.  He hadn't noticed that he had stopped humming in his mad way.  The American looked down at the boy impassively, but at least there was no underlying aggression in him against his young nemesis.  Odd for a Death Eater, but in this place, it shouldn't have surprised Harry that that the uneasy truce between them had made them brothers in their pain.

"Don't fight them," Bren advised softly.  "It's like any duel, kid.  Roll with the punches.  Bend as the wave breaks or you'll break too."

"What do you mean?" asked Harry, rubbing his emerald eyes.

"Give the dementors what they want.  Be miserable.  It's the ones who try to fight what's happening that get broken faster."

"You… you aren't insane at all," Harry realized, "Your humming… it's all an act."

Bren nodded sagely, "I thought you woulda figured it out by now.  Yup, if you're mad, they don't bother you so much.  The Orcs don't need to break the broken ones.  And…" he added humorously, "I got off dealing with that damn Unspeakable, didn't I?  I'm mad when I chose to be and I've come off it a saner man."

Harry nodded, not really listening.  It was so much easier just to lay down and sob.  Easier just to give up.  The tears continued to fall under a will of their own.

"Come on, kid," Bren insisted, "He ain't worth it.  My dad abandoned me years ago.  He ain't worth it and neither is your Sirius.  You don't see me sobbing over those spineless wand wavers who left me when I was arrested, do you?"

"No," Harry whispered.

"And why is that, kid?  Cause it don't help any.  Don't waste your time sobbing over him when he's doing nothing of the sort over you.  Don't let him get you weaker than you are.  If he turns his back on you, turn your back on him.  Hell, the only reason he escaped here in the first place was because he was smart enough to focus on something.  Maybe that's how we'll get out of here too."

"We aren't getting out of here, don't you see?" Harry shook his head. "We're going to die here.  They'll bury us in those pits by the sea.  No one will know we've died.  No one will care."  He looked out the window to the nearby coast.  "'Abandon all hope ye who enter here.'"

"Well, you're just full of jollies, aren't you?" shrugged Bren, "If Rabbit says he'll get you out, he'll get you out.  Don't underestimate that damned Unspeakable.  That was my first mistake."

"You know, for a Death Eater, you aren't half bad," Harry smiled grimly. "Thanks."

"You know, for the symbol of all I hate and despise, you ain't half bad yourself," Bren returned.  "No problem."

They settled back down on their straw mats, content for the moment with their mutual comradeship.  The horrors would never cease, the Orcs would never stop coming, and the dementors would never let their sanity rest.  But, for now it was home.  Harry swore to himself that he would not cry again.  He had been doing far too much of that lately.  Enough was enough.  He remembered Rabbit's words of hope and sighed.  Whether he was set free or not, he no longer cared.  Even if he was set free, and all became right with the world, Azkaban was in his very soul now.  Like it was in Sirius for all time.  Nothing could rip it out.  Just as nothing could rip out the betrayal he felt over Sirius and the others.  They condemned him to this fate.  They did not cry over him, so he would not cry over them.  He only wished that someone somewhere would know the truth about him.  Whether or not he killed the Dursleys, he did not care.  He just wanted to know.

End Part Six

Well, this part is a little longer than usual since I feel so bad about not being able to post as often as I would like.  I honestly do not mean to disappear for weeks on end.  It just happens.  Sorry! : _(

I have mixed feelings about this chapter, and I can't tell if I like it or not.  I didn't intend on having Rabbit and Bren back in the story at all, but the Yank inside me pushed me to do it.  It was a very last minute addition.  I was always told that if you mention a gun in a story, it better be used before the end or it is bad writing.  Therefore, I'm bringing them back in.  Besides, Rabbit is starting to grow on me and Bren isn't too far behind.  He seems too nice for a Death Eater, doesn't he?  That bothers me, but I don't know how else to do him realistically.  It seems like a waste of his energy being pure evil in a place where he can't do anything about it.  Oh, and Rob will make an appearance in the next one.  It's gonna be one of the major chapters, so stay tuned for that!

Sorry about that thing with dragons and Americans ^_^.  I saw 'Reign of Fire' last weekend and laughed when I heard that phrase.  How is my Orc speech?  Is it understandable?  If it's not, let me know.

Now, for my speech: I'm terribly sorry about making Sirius such a… not so nice person in the last one.  If I had known about the reaction you guys would have, I would have toned it down much more than I did.  But trust the Ti.  If you read into it a bit more, you'll see that Sirius is more angry at himself than anyone else.  Harry is just the unfortunate person to get the brunt of it.  I'm sure we've all snapped at the wrong person more than once.  I'll get into this in more detail at the very end of the story like in 'Say Goodnight Not Goodbye.' 

Just know that Sirius is my favorite character and I would never permanently main him in any way, personality included.  If you can't wait long enough for a full explanation, and believe me it's a pretty long explanation, let me know and I'll post it as a separate 'chapter' to clear things up.  This is a very psychological and allegoric story so I do have an explanation for just about everything in this thing.  Don't believe me?  Try me.

It seems that my sequel follows the usual curse that accompanies many sequels of various things.  The first is usually better and anything afterward is pure slush.  If you really want me to change Sirius' role in this, give me 20 separate votes with your own suggestions.  I prefer this version, but I can create another version for you guys if you want it that badly.  You're all lucky actually.  This chapter is much more toned down than originally written for Sirius' and the Orcs' roles.  Phew!  I like this chapter this way anyway.  Much less… tearjerking.

Responses:

Nicky:  I agree that a loving father would not seem like the type of person to relinquish custody.  Now, I don't have a degree in Law, but I would think that if a minor was convicted of a rather naughty crime, they would take custody like it or not.  Sirius would not have had a say in the matter.  I assure you, it was not his idea to suddenly disown Harry.  About Remus and Dumbledore, yes they do think something is going on that they need Harry for.  Don't worry, you'll find out what soon.  And they will get chewed out properly for their actions once this is all over.  You'll see why they needed things to be as they were.

Quatre's Angel: I try my best ^_^

Fire Bug JL: Oh, please don't burst a blood vessel!!!  I'm not a doctor yet!  I'm sorry I almost made you cry, but it is meant to be a sad fic.  Happy reading. ^_^

Dark phoenix: Don't worry about giving me a hard time.  I need a good kick in the butt now and then to get me going.  And I promise to 'hit' Sirius for you.  He gets messed up pretty good in the 8th chapter.  And not just mentally.

Padfoot 1979: Trust me, it hasn't reached rock bottom yet.  That belongs to this chapter and the one after.  It kicks into higher gear afterwards before coming to a long awaited conclusion.  Like I said, I'll explain Sirius' reactions soon enough.  Tell me what you're confused about specifically and I'll try to clear it up.  I probably didn't explain or hint to it well enough.  I'm glad you think I play people's feelings well.  I'm flattered ^_^.  I'm on a good role with it now; the hard part is over so I'll be posting much faster.  ¡Te promeso!

Kateydidnt:  I'm not trying to make it so black and white to make it 'poor one guy and bad another guy'.  Everyone is a 'victim' of something; it just depends what it is.  However, I would tend to agree ^_^.

Star Light: Don't say that!  He won't stay that way for long!

Ms. Issues: Yeah, they've been through a lot lately.  But it's only been a few months since you even met Javen, if you read the first one.  Sirius did not have a choice in the matter, and if he did, it would not be done lightly.  The government, needed custody of any underage minor in order to make everyone's lives much easier.

J Palmgren: Like I said, I wish you wouldn't give up on this story, but I cannot stop you.  This is not an action-based story and wasn't intended to be.  I labeled it 'angst' for a reason.  It is not a comedy and therefore I feel no guilt in making it less than perky.  If it is not understandable, you can ask me for a clearer explanation and I'll tell you what you need to know.  I love feedback like that so I know where I need to focus more of my attention.  I'm sorry you feel it is too repetitive, but I disagree.  I do not intend for Harry to be some pitiful victim, nor do I intend on having a cliché world out to get him.  I have taken an excellent psychology course, and I'm confident that I manipulate my characters to react properly to the circumstances based on what I know about them.  Go on and ask for examples and I'll give them.  With all due respect, if you didn't want to read a story with angst in it, why did you choose this category?  Obviously someone out there wants to read it if my e-mails and reviews are anything to go by.  Oh, and by the way, I hate carrot juice.

Anonymous: Thank you! : D

A. Dee:  Don't cry!  *hands you a tissue * I promise it'll get better!  Yes, Sirius is acting up, but don't let that stop your love for him.  He is my absolute favorite character and I don't want ANYONE to stop liking him because of this.  If you need a reminder of how cool he is, remember how he kicked butt in 'Say Goodnight!'  Remus is not as bad as you think, trust me.  Montere… well, he was just doing his job and you won't be seeing him anymore anyway.  Dursleys are a pain, yes, but you won't be seeing them much anymore either as they're dead.  Javen… yeah, ok, I'll give you that.  He still worked his way into my heart somehow, the wormy little prat.

Katie:  It's not as confusing as it looks… I hope.  If it is, let me know and I'll clear it up.  Yes, the prison has its purpose, but so does Sirius.  His behavior doesn't have as much a purpose as it does a psychological catalyst.  And yes, he still retains his previous role.  Yes, nothing is as it seems.  Just the way I like it *_~ You are amazing!  You are correct in both theories!  I hoped that someone would pick up on my clues here and there.  I can give that away just because it is mostly all explained in the next chapter.

Alexa Black:  Of COURSE I remember you!  I still have your story to get up there.  Sorry it's taking so long, this monstrosity is taking up much of my free time and I'm not sure if I want your dream to be part of this story or on its own.  I am so glad you understand the shock that Sirius was going through.  Yes, he freaked out for many reasons, stress and shock among them.  And I assure you he comes to his senses.  Hmm…Voldemort?  We'll see… ^_^

Black Panther:  No, don't cry! I'm running out of tissues for my readers!  Tell your mom that no you're not nuts, it's all me ^_^.  Next two days?  How about this?

KKDT:  Thanks!