I know its been quite awhile since I updated this fic, I was kinda waiting for HBP to come out and see if there'd be any cool info that I could use from it in this fic. I'm not sure if I'm going to tie my story in with the sixth book, so you can consider it as an alternate story line. If you don't want to read it anymore cause it doesn't follow the story as dictated by Rowling, that's fine by me. You have been warned then, if you're a responsible person and read the author's note then I shouldn't expect any flames on the matter at hand. Well I've also started college, and right now I don't know if I like it or not. Keep in mind though that I'm putting off a paper to work on this right now!

(I don't own Harry Potter, I can barely afford gas for my car!)

"Where am I?" He said, looking around the room at all the people staring at him. There was a blonde haired woman standing next to him and an old men and three teenagers in the doorway on the other side of the room.

The only thing he could remember was the dark cell and the appearance of fiery bird that was nowhere to be seen at the moment.

"Where am I? What's going on?" He said again, his voice cracking. The comfort he had experienced from seeing the bird in the cell seemed to dissipate as the others in the room continued to stare at him, seemingly at a loss for words.

The chair scraped loudly across the floor as he struggled to his feet. He nearly fell over, his exhausted body hardly able keep him standing. His eyes darted around wildly for an escape route, but the only way out of the large room was through the one doorway that was blocked by the old man.

His mind began to work furiously, trying to recall every detail of his rescue from that dark cell and the hooded men. These people could very well have been his saviors, but then again, he had no way of knowing that. For starters they didn't have a great flaming bird with them, or could he have been hallucinating? Beginning to second guess his own memories, while slowly stepping backwards, his back came to rest against the cold stone of the wall behind him.

"Sirius?" The boy with black hair said uncertainly, ducking under the outstretched arm of the old man.

"Sirius?" He whispered to himself, weary mind grinding back into action. A name? His name? He looked around again desperate for a way out.

"Harry don't!" the girl, standing by the door, hissed at the boy coming towards him. The boy called Harry ignored her, slowly making his way across the room, that he had come to see was a kitchen.

"Sirius is that really you?" Harry asked again. The woman with blonde hair reached for Harry's arm.

"Harry leave him be. He doesn't understand." The boy turned to meet her gaze and they shared a look of understanding.

"Sirius." The man whispered to himself again, trying to understand why this name sounded so familiar to him. It was there in his mind, just beyond his comprehensive reach, taunting him to frustration. These people knew something about him that he did not and it was starting to grate on his nerves.

"Is it my name?" he asked the room in general, once again the spotlight seemed to glare on his person.

"Yes," The old man said plainly. "Sirius Black, that is your name, and this your house, we are your friends." At this he left the doorway and made his way across the room, coming to a halt directly in front of Sirius. "You need not fear anything here, we have already delivered you from the hands of the enemy."

Enemy? Sirius thought to himself. Ah! The hooded men and their dark cell. Well if they were the enemy then he would have no problem declaring them to be his own enemies.

"I am Albus Dumbledore, and this," he indicated the woman on his right. "is Attica Arias. We rescued from you from the Death Eaters. There is much to say and do, and I'm afraid that with your memory gone, a lot of what we have to tell you will come as a shock."

So the hooded men called themselves Death Eaters? Anger flared and took the place of his desperation, he wanted revenge for his pain.