Chapter 7
a/n- yes I know its been a while and probably all of my former reviewers are gone and don't like me anymore and wont review or probably won't know even that I've updated. But I've really lost interest in this stuff and I'm ready to move on so I can indulge myself when I write instead of torturing myself. Please accept this last chapter (no matter how much you may not like it) as compensation for me throwing out my good ideas. I promise this won't be absolutely odious.
Disclaimer-I no own
It was funny how things can just disappear. How when you think you finally have everything you want, it slips right through your fingers. It was the worst thing that could happen to anyone, and it happened to Sirius Black. He never had a good family. His best friends were dead, hated him, or were with Voldemort. To top it all off, he was in Azkaban for a crime he didn't commit. He was all alone in the world, and everyone thought he had murdered poor, defenseless Peter Pettigrew, as the rest of the world viewed that rat.
Now here he was, alone, cold, hungry with no way to get out of it. He had lost hope, the last thing that was keeping him sane. What was the point of living anymore? He wanted to see James and Lily again. He wanted to see them so badly. Sirius thought about the words that his cousin Andromeda, the only person in his family who had loved, had told him, "Sirius, everyone is on this earth for a reason. You'll do what you were sent here to do, no matter how minor it may seem, before you die. We all will."
Those were the words he had lived by his whole life. When Andromeda died, Sirius had written the words down and put it on her coffin. The words had died with her.
"I'm not ready for this!" Sirius screamed. Then he whispered, "I'm still only little."