A/N: Here's a story that I had written two years back. I had to re-type it since I just printed it and deleted it off of my computer. It took way longer than I thought, I had to change many scenes that I had written (which were just plain horrible!). I'm hoping that it sounds better than it did when I was re-writing it! ;)

I hope you like it!

I………………I

Someone to Live For Part 1

It was cold-It was always cold. He could never remember being warm. He hated it here. The nights were the worst-when the cold left you for a little while, leaving you with the overwhelming feeling of despair.

Azkaban Prison was different than any other Prison-it was meant for wizards. The one thing that makes it one of the most feared places in the Wizarding World are the Dementors. They live off of people's worst thoughts-especially thoughts of guilt, which made Azkaban a great place for them. Normally people who are brought to Azkaban were insane within a week the guilt that had been haunting them was just too much-and they would die. All except for one…

Sirius Black had been in Azkaban for almost four years, he was convicted of killing thirteen muggles and wizards at wand point; everyone thought that he had been working for the Dark side and by doing so he betrayed his best friends. Little did anyone consider that he was not the one who did the killings.

Today the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, would come in and check on the inhabitants of Azkaban. He rarely did this, saying that he could only come once a year because he had more imperative things to do. Sirius knew he was lying; he just didn't want to come and waste his time, checking on wizards that, in his opinion, were criminals and deserved nothing better than where they were.

An hour later Sirius heard the Minister's voice down the hall. Sirius felt a smile appear on his face-What would the Minister say when he saw him, still alive?

"Sirius Black!"

"That's me Minister," Sirius replied.

The Minister walked closer to the cell that Sirius was residing in, trying to get a clear view of the man in front of him. "You're still alive-how?"

"I've tried to tell you before, sir. I'm innocent. Why do you think I haven't gone insane yet? I have the best thought to keep me going-innocence. I know I didn't kill anyone and betray my friends! Yes, the Dementors affect me, but they can't take the one happy thought from me!" hissed Sirius, now nose to nose with the Minister, the bars of the cell the only thing keeping distance from them.

Cornelius sighed. "Oh I think I know a bad man when I see one, Black. And anyways, if I were to let you free where would you go? Who would you go to? You have no one, everyone thinks you're a killer!"

Sirius narrowed his eyes. "Oh, I have someone. Someone who needs me more than anything. The one someone that I have stayed alive for."

"And who would that be?"

"Harry," replied Sirius confidently.

I……………………….I

Harry Potter was almost seven years old. He had bright green eyes, and scrawny black hair. The most prominent feature he held was a lighting bolt shaped scar on his forehead, which he had gotten when he was one in the car crash that had killed his parents.

Harry didn't tell anyone, especially his aunt, but he kind of liked his scar. To him, it felt like it was the only thing that he had left of his parents.

"Boy, are you done with those dishes yet?" hissed Aunt Petunia scornfully, as she walked into the kitchen to check on his progress.

"A-Almost, Aunt Petunia," said Harry quietly.

"Good, because you're going to be late for school again if you don't hurry and I do not want another CALL from your teacher telling me that you are late everyday! Understood?"

"Yes…" replied Harry as his aunt walked out of the kitchen and into the living room.

Harry finished drying the last of the dishes and walked into his room, which was the cupboard under the stairs, and grabbed his plastic bag that was a substitute for a backpack.. He quickly walked into the living room, to find his aunt watching one of her favourite shows.

"The dishes are done, can I go now?"

"Yes, but remember to get home as soon as school is let out! I want no dilly-dallying! You have more chores to do before your uncle gets home," replied Aunt Petunia as she continued to watch her show, not bothering to look at Harry.

"I know. Well, see you, then," said Harry as he headed out of the living room and out the door.

I…………………I

Harry had always walked to school, unlike Dudley, who got a ride everyday. December had just begun and Harry was freezing. Harry's coat, which used to belong to Dudley was falling off of his shoulders, and the cold was seeping through the many holes that the jacket had acquired.

Harry rounded the corner to his school; holding his breath, hoping that Dudley and his gang weren't outside, waiting to taunt him. However today Harry was lucky, Dudley was no where to be seen.

Harry entered room 110. He walked to the back of the room where his normal seat was and laid his head on his desk, trying to become invisible from everyone.

Once they took attendance, Mrs. Sutton asked everyone to turn to page 154 in their English book. They all took turns, reading paragraphs from the book out loud. Harry hated this part, he hated reading in front of people, and they always made fun of him.

When Harry was called upon, he looked down at the page he was suppose to read from. Unfortunately the words were too blurry and he couldn't make out what they were supposed to say.

"Harry? It's your turn," said Mrs. Sutton.

"Yeah, I know," replied Harry, squinting his eyes, trying to make out the words.

"Are you lost?" wondered Mrs. Sutton.

"No…I just-I just can't read it," said Harry in a whisper.

Laughter erupted from all around the classroom.

"Harry, what do you mean you can't read it?"

"It's too blurry," said Harry, his voice cracking.

"Alright, Harry, I'll have someone else read. See me during recess," told Mrs. Sutton.

Again, the class laughed, along with rude remarks.

"Harry is so stupid…"

"…You're a freak…"

"…And dumb…"

"Class, do not disrespect a student. Derek, it's your turn."

But Harry didn't pay attention after that, his eyes were stinging, he didn't want to have anyone see him cry. Harry just laid his head on the desk, trying to think of other things.

What seemed liked hours later, the bell for recess rang, and the whole class cheered, while Harry walked somberly towards his teacher's desk.

"Harry, how long have you noticed that things are blurry?" asked Mrs. Sutton.

Harry was silent for a moment, trying to remember.

"Um…for a while, I guess. I told my aunt and uncle and they told me not to bother them again," Harry answered.

"I think you going to have to get checked for glasses," said Mrs. Sutton.

Harry eyes grew wide with fear.

"Glasses? But-But I told my aunt I wouldn't talk about them again."

"Harry, I don't think your aunt and uncle would mind. Would it be better if I wrote them a note?"

"Uh huh," said Harry, as he kept his eyes averted to the floor.

"I'll do that then and you can give the letter to your aunt tonight."

Harry forced a smiled as he walked back to his seat.

At the end of school, Mrs. Sutton handed Harry the note to give to his aunt, but he had no intention of giving it to her.

I………………………I

Once Harry got home he was bombarded with chores. He was doing quite well, until dinner.

"Boy, get in the kitchen and start making dinner," hissed Aunt Petunia, as he finished sweeping the floor.

Harry got out the cookbook, but when he tried to read the recipie for chicken, he couldn't make out the words.

"Have you started cooking yet, boy? Why are you stalling?"

"I-I can't re-read it Aunt Petunia, it's to-too blurry," stuttered Harry.

Dudley laughed as he told his mom about what happened to Harry at school and how he had gotten a note.

"You got a note? A note-well go get it!" yelled Aunt Petunia.

Harry flinched at his aunt's words, as he ran to his cupboard to retrieve his note. When he gave it to his aunt, the farther she read, the angrier she seemed.

"Didn't your uncle and I tell you not to bother us about this ever again!" Aunt Petunia screamed as she threw the note onto the counter.

"Yeah but-"

"Then why did you have your teacher write a note to me?" Petunia asked scornfully.

"I didn't tell her to write it, she wrote it herself," said Harry.

"You're lying! Get into you cupboard and your uncle will deal with this when he gets HOME! GO!"

Harry ran from the kitchen, tripping on his feet as went, running into his cupboard and slamming the door. Now all he could do was wait until his uncle got home, and hopefully he would be in a good mood.

I……………….I

Uncle Vernon was not in a good mood when he got home. He hadn't gotten a raise, like everyone else. He had blamed this on Harry, saying that he must have had something to do with it.

Harry could hear his aunt and uncle talking about him, the venom in his uncle's voice reached an all time high. This wasn't good, thought Harry; he was going to be a goner for sure.

"BOY! Get out here now!" roared his uncle.

Harry scrambled from his cupboard and ran into the kitchen, not wanting to be in more trouble for not coming fast enough.

"What is this I hear? You made your teacher write you a note to tell us you need glasses! We told you that we didn't want to hear about this EVER again!" Uncle Vernon yelled; his face right in front of Harry's, who took an involuntary step back.

"I didn't tell Mrs. Sutton to write the note!" protested Harry.

"Oh, really?" started Uncle Vernon.

Harry slowly nodded his head as tears started to form behind his eyes. "She-she just asked me why I couldn't see-see the words, I said they were blurry. I-I didn't think she would write you-a-a note, really!" demanded Harry, as a tear fell down his cheek.

"Stop that crying!"

Harry swallowed thickly. "I'm sorry, but I didn't mean to-to."

"You need to start respecting us, Boy. We take care of you, feed you and you still cause us trouble! You are worthless! Now, go to your room! You will get no dinner tonight!"

At these words, a sharp sob escaped from Harry's throat as he ran to his cupboard. He never felt more alone in his life. Why wasn't there someone out there that cared?

I…………………I

The morning started like any other normal morning at the Dursley's residence. Harry was woken up early, forced to make breakfast. There was a tense silence among the household as they ate. Harry was sure that Uncle Vernon kept sending him glares, but it didn't faze Harry, he was use to this-to be treated like he was dirt-unwanted.

"Boy," started Uncle Vernon, as he stood up from his seat," We are going out today you need to be ready in ten minutes, understood?"

"Am I going to Mrs. Figg's, then?" asked Harry, somberly.

"No," said Uncle Vernon gruffly, "you will be going with us. We are taking you to get some glasses. What would your teacher think if you don't come to school able to see? You cause so much trouble, boy!" demanded Uncle Vernon, having a hard time, coming to the fact that they would be spending money on his nephew.

Harry's spirits rose at this revelation. Finally he wasn't going to be teased for not being able to read at school! Maybe, the class would realize that he wasn't stupid, or a freak.

"Really? I'm going to get glasses?" asked Harry, amazed.

"Yes," hissed his aunt who had walked next to Harry, drying her hands on the towel.

I…………….I

Harry, had never heard Dudley complain more in his life, and that was saying something. He was complaining that he was hungry, that Harry was taking up all the back seat (when he, was taking up more than half.) and that he didn't want to go to the eye doctor. Maybe going to Mrs. Figg's would have been more enjoyable, Harry thought.

And boy was he was right.

Harry had never been to an eye doctor before, and he never wanted to come back again.

Once they had gotten into the room, the doctor placed Harry's eyes thought many contraptions, which, afterwards made his eyes tear and feel unnaturally dry.

The best part of the whole experince was when the Doctor questioned Aunt Petunia as why Harry hadn't been brought here sooner; she never did have a valid excuse…

The whole day, to Harry, seemed to be getting worse the longer it dragged on, and the worst part hadn't yet passed.

It was the glasses.

They were ugly. The spirits that had riser earlier that day diminished faster than they had came. With these glasses he would be more of a Freak- now there was no chance that he would get a friend.

"Aunt Petunia? Why do I have to get these one? Can't I get one's that are-"

"You will not get any other glasses than these! Understood! You are going to take these ones,"

Harry slowly nodded his head. "O-Okay." Harry felt tears fill his eyes. Why did everything bad have to happen to him? Why couldn't he be normal for once?

I……………………I

As Harry expected, once Dudley saw the glasses, he exploded with laughter. The whole ride home Harry kept his eyes averted on his lap as Dudley raved mean remarks. Most consisting of how stupid and ugly he looked.

Once home, Harry retreated to his cupboard. He didn't think he could take anymore rude remarks about his glasses. A person could only take so much before it affected them.

He must have fallen asleep because the next thing he remembered was hearing his aunt's shrill voice ring through the hall and into this cupboard, demanding him to go and make some dinner.

Harry had to admit, making dinner was a lot easier, and faster now that he had glasses and didn't have to keep squinting at the fine print to find out what it said.

Harry was just about to place the last dish on the table when Dudley ran into the kitchen, bumping into him as he muttered 'Freak' into Harry's ear. The sudden weight of Dudley running into him made him drop the dish he was holding onto the floor.

A bucket of cold water seemed to fall upon Harry as he heard the shattering of the dish onto the floor. He quickly bent down, furiously picking up the pieces. Maybe if he was lucky, his relatives would never found out he had broken a dish.

"HARRY BROKE A PLATE!" screamed Dudley, his eyes shimmering happily. He loved to get Harry into trouble.

Harry's hand froze in midair, as he heard thunderous foot steps; descending the stairs and make their presence in the living room.

"What's going on here?" roared Uncle Vernon, his face livid.

"Dudley bumped into me. Made me drop the plate," said Harry.

The veins on his uncle's face looked like they were about to explode. "Don't-Blame-Dudley-For-Something-You-Have-Done!" hissed his uncle in one breath.

He grabbed Harry by the back of his shirt and lifted him up. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" screamed Harry. He was shaking more than he ever had, in the presence of his uncle.

Uncle Vernon shook Harry back and forth, trying to get an answer out of him.

"I-didn't mean to!" Harry sobbed, "It was an accident!" Harry felt himself being dropped to the ground. He kneeled there, tears flowing down his face. It was only a plate, why was his uncle so mad? Harry had never seen him so mad, and it scared him terribly.

"I DON"T CARE! THESE PLATES COST US A GOOD SUM OF MON-"

"Vernon? What's going on?" asked Aunt Petunia as she walked into the room.

"This boy," he pointed a finger at Harry, who was still kneeling on the ground, awaiting the worst. "Dropped one of our plates, and broke it!"

Harry saw his Aunt's eyes flash over to the pieces of the broken plate and to Harry's face. " Make him clean it up, then."

"But, Pet, this boy needs punishment. He's been causing us far too many problems. A good beating would do…"

Harry let out a piercing sob. He didn't mean to, really! He was sorry!

"Vernon, just let it go. Just make him clean it up and send him to bed." And with that his aunt walked out of the room.

"You heard her, get going! No dinner!" roared his uncle, clearly mad at the little punishment Harry received.

"O-O-Okay," Harry replied. He slowly got up to his feet as she wiped the tears off of his face. Grabbing the broom out of the cupboard he swept up the plate. As soon as he was safely locked in his cupboard, he let the flood of tears come out. He hated it here, he wanted to leave. He wanted to live with someone that cared for him. Was there anyone out there who wanted him? This seemed to be a question that he kept questioning himself and the answer he always suspected, never lifted his spirits.

No, he thought, there was no one out there who wanted him. Because if there was, wouldn't they have already saved him?

I………………….I

Harry woke up shivering. He hated sleeping in his cupboard during the winter. It always seemed to be cold, it would never get warm. It didn't help much that he only had one thin blanket that he had to use.

He felt the floor of his cupboard until his hand felt the fabric of his sweater. The one good thing about being handed down Dudley's clothes, was that during the winter, the bigger the clothes the better.

Harry placed the sweater over his head and covered himself as best he could with his blanket.

Another shiver ran through his body as he curled into himself. He wished he could have another blanket.

Suddenly, he heard the stair creak from above his cupboard. Harry tensed at this. Was it his uncle ready to punish him in the dead of the night?

The footsteps that descended the stairs walked passed the cupboard and Harry let out a sigh of relief. It was his aunt-it had to be, his uncle and cousin were not that quiet.

A stray thought crossed Harry's mind and he quickly stopped it. No way was he going to ask his aunt for another blanket. He was already in enough trouble as it was, asking for something would put his aunt past her boiling point. Wouldn't it?

But something made Harry wonder-wonder that maybe his aunt wouldn't get mad. Like when he broke the plate. She just told him to clean it up.

Harry heard the sound of the teapot signaling that the tea was done. He heard his aunt pour herself a cup and sit down at the table. She did this a lot, reminisced Harry. She must like to have a quiet time to think and be by herself.

He heard her get up a while later and place the cup in the sink and walk past his cupboard. It was now or never…

"A-Aunt Petunia?"

His aunt stopped and Harry heard his cupboard door being unlocked and opened.

"Harry? What are you doing up?"

Harry sat up. "I-I was wondering, if I could have another blanket. I know I'm not supposed to but it's really, really cold. I can't sleep because of it."

Harry caustiously looked up at his aunt, fear radiating in his eyes. Was she going to get mad at him?

"Hang on a minute, I'll go get one. I don't want any more complaining from you, then."

She returned moments later, a blanket in her hand and a cup of tea. "Here, drink this. It will warm you up."

Harry nodded his head as he took the cup of tea from his aunt. "Thanks, Aunt Petunia."

Aunt Petunia tossed the blanket next to Harry and got up. "Get some sleep now, you have chores to do tomorrow."

"Aunt Petunia?" Harry called.

"What?"

"I just wanted to say that I'm sorry for breaking your dish. I really didn't mean to drop it, really."

"It's all right."

And with that she left.

Just as Harry feel asleep, he realized that his aunt was the nicest she had been to him in a while.

I……………I

A/N: I do hope you enjoyed it! This story will be two parts, so one more chapter! I will hopefully have it up next week sometime. I want to get it out before school starts.

Just to let you know. Normally when you get glasses you have to wait to get them made. Well, the place that Harry got his already had the perfect pair ready! ;)

Acciodanrad9