Disclaimer:  I'm not important, so, like all unimportant people, I have reason to believe that the extent of this fic, does not go so far as to be at all profitable to me or mine, nor to enable me to claim ownership over an idea that seems so coveted by many a person that find themselves indulging in a little fic such as this one.  Ok.  Enough.  I don't own anything. And they all lived happily ever after.

Summary:  The wizarding world has abandoned Harry, and he is given every reason to nurture a hatred for them all.  When, eventually, he breaks out of the mind and physical prisons he has been detained in, what will he do? Will he help or will he be a little less willing? NO-SLASH!

A/N: IN THIS STORY SIRIUS NEVER DIED!  EVERYTHING ELSE HAPPENED, EXCEPT SIRIUS NEVER DIED AT THE END OF THE FIFTH BOOK.  Oh, this may have spoilers too.

Betraying Serendipity

We cannot tear out a single page of our life, but we can throw the book in the fire'  - George Sand

           

Chapter 2 - A Mundane Art

Perhaps it would be easy to assume that Sirius Black had no chance of escaping, after all, he inhabited the second most highly guarded cell in the entire building.  After all, he was mad and more than a little starved.  But, when thinking about an important thing, one must carefully assess the situation before assuming.  After all, the man who had been in the top security cell, thought Imposible to get out of, had just escaped, and done, Sirius was reluctant to say, a fine job of it too.

So if Harry Potter could get away, then surely...  It hung, carefully placed over his muzzled nose.  Tempting.  Freedom.  But how was he to gain it?  He'd done it before! He'd managed to do it once! Mind you, he reflected, back then, I was innocent.  But fate, it seemed to Black, worked in mysterious ways.  Because only seconds after the magnified voice of Harry Potter had rung through the deserted corridors, Sirius Black was given his chance.

_-'*'-_

To any normal, or, for that matter, not so normal person, the young man sitting on the London bound bus was just as they were.  Normal.  Each in their own specified sense of the word of course.  But he wasn't.  He was very - uh - unnormal.  He was wearing baggy jeans, a tight black top, trainers, and a long, leather over coat that would have looked suspicious on anyone else.  But he wasn't anyone else.  He looked, just fine.

Except for his eyes. 

But dark lenses that would have reflected your own face, had you been brave enough to stare at them, covered his startling green eyes.  No one was brave enough though, so the, precaution? Is that the word? was pointless anyway.

A gloved hand irritably pushed back messy locks, the motion, although slow and seemingly careless, could be seen to make his hand tremble.  He quickly pocketed it again.  Where had he been? Where was he heading? What would he do?  He didn't know. Slowly, his mind was crawling about, picking up a small piece of glass, and smiling as it remembered where that piece had belonged.  But then the glass cut him, making him bleed sorrow and hatred. 

Hatred.

No; not hatred.  Loathing.  Despising.  Not hatred.  Worse than hatred.

The bus stopped and he looked up, jerked out of his thoughts.  He clambered up, passing a bunch of giggling girls on his way to the door.  Nodding to the bus driver, he jumped of the bus, his cloak swirling behind him as if he had come straight from the set of The Matrix.  The girls giggled some more, seemed they were getting off too.  He ignored them.  He was good at ignoring people.

One of them however had caught his eye.  How old were they? The didn't look old enough to be wondering through London.  There were murders in London.  Bad people.

But they didn't seem aware of this; they chatted together, laughing, shouting, giggling, the group of them, pleated skirts, skin-tight tops, and designer shoes.  He ignored them and walked into a shop called the leaky cauldron.  They didn't even see him disappear, and if they had, it would have seemed to be just like that.  Into thin air.  As if he had turned invisible, or, perhaps, as if he didn't, and never had, existed.

They giggled on, unaware that a mass murder had just passed through their midst.

_-'*'-_

"WHAT IS GOING ON?!" the voice of one highly distinguished Minister of Magic could almost certainly be heard in the US, so it was no surprise that Sirius Black had heard it.  he blinked.  Umm... Okkk...

"WHY CAN'T WE GET OUT?!" And that was when inspiration struck.  Golden, wonderful, delightful, simply magnificent, superb, breathtaking, amazing, brilliant inspiration.  'Why can't we get out' huh?  Well Sirius Black had been asking himself that for a couple of years now, and, as of yet, the question was still unanswered.  And so, like any madman worth his salt would do.  Sirius Black laughed.

The complaints from the minister and his party were cut short as the maniacal laughter filled the black corridors of the wizarding prison.

"Be quiet you creature!" the weak voice of a ministry employee just mad Black laugh harder.  Eventually his wheezing laughs turned into grating coughs and he came to a chuckling stop.

"You fool.  You blithering idiotic fool" he paused and chuckled lowly again before uttering mockingly; "you could get life for this"

"Wha - what do you mean?" Black paused, and looked at the opposite wall thoughtfully, or at least, sort of thoughtfully.

"False imprisonment, I thought that was a crime?" the answer was immediate, if a little more than sum what confused.

"It is" Sirius smiled a twisted smile all Azkaban inn mates seemed to have.

"It's been delivered, life in Azkaban.  You are charged with false imprisonment" he stood up and walked to the door of his cell, watched closely by all of the aurors and ministry men.

"With lying to the court and providing false information" he pushed the door of his cell, and it swung open, much to the amazement of the others.

"With not allowing the accused a legal defendant" he walked menacingly towards them, they cringed back from him, as if he was some horrific disease.

"With being complete assholes and ruining mine, and others I'm sure, life's" he picked up a wand that was lying on the floor, and inspected it closely.

"You are hereby found guilty of the above crimes and sentenced with the punishment life imprisonment within Azkaban, the wizarding prison" he smiled at the seven people who lay scattered in Harry Potters cell.  Walked over, and clicked the big brass lock into place.  He turned to leave, but paused a second.

"I'll add one more to the list; betraying people who put their trust in you.  That's the worst Shakelbolt.  That's the worst." with a laud 'pop' Sirius Black disappeared, leaving the Minister of Magic and six other faithful employees stranded in locked prison cell, on a deserted island, surrounded by various types of sharks, a thousand kilometres from land in the middle of the pacific ocean. 

Appearing in France, he grinned, and muttered something inaudible to himself.

If you had have been listening closely, or had you been Black, or had he wanted to tell you, you would have heard the condescending sentence that he spoke, but you didn't and you aren't and he didn't so you just have to settle with the shortened version;

"Oops"

_-'*'-_

"You can do this Black, just one little spell" the muttered comforts to himself did little good; he was scared of the wand in his hand, and of what he knew he had to do.  He paused and looked at the wand, rubbed his head and swore.  Finally he gathered his courage.

In one quick movement, Sirius Black had pointed the wand in his hand to his temple and fired a quick spell.  If there had been a wizard around he would have known just what happened, but there wasn't one; Sirius Black was completely alone, as was the word he spoke.

"OBLIVIATE"

_-'*'-_

A/N: Here it is.  I'll post again soon, in about a week hopefully. 

Big thankyou to everyone who reviewed! I hope this chap meets you expectations.

Blue Flame Angel - Yes, both Harry and Sirius are, or were, in jail.  It will be explained later when they meet each other face to face, but it's a little more complicated than just sitting down and talking it over, as this chapter might warn you.  And Harry had been in jail for three and a half years, he went in when he was seventeen and a bit, so he'd be about twenty-one and three quarters.

Emily-Dufleng - **Scrapes foot along the ground** they're still reviews, aren't they? At least I know people thought it might have been a decent fic. . .  But, I won't put any AN's in the middle unless I really have too.  ^.~

Ciao for now.

Imaginable  ~^.^~