Harry watched his godfather. He didn't think this man he loved so dearly was aware that he was crying. Harry leant forward, and wiped the tears staining Sirius's face away.

"Don't cry, Sirius." he said. "But please... continue. I want to know more."

Sirius nodded.

I found the rat who had killed my best friend, my brother.

"You killed Lily and James, Sirius!" he screamed. "How could you? After all you and James had been through, how could you turn your back on him, and kill him?" Before I could even react, Wormtail had drawn his wand, and screamed, "CRUCIO!" Naturally, the first thought that went through my head as the jet of light came at me was get the fuck out of the way. I dove to the left, and the spell hit the street where I had previously been standing. The street blew apart, debris flying for about fifty feet. I, myself, was hit with debris right here. Sirius pointed to the back of his head. Sadly, all I could do was laugh...

That was how the Department of Magical Law Enforcement found me. Barty Crouch, and another man, Lesath Black, were there. Harry noted the disgusted sound in Sirius's voice, but kept quite.

"What shall we do with him, Lesath?" Crouch had asked. Lesath had walked up to me, and slapped my sharply on my face, one slap on each cheek.

"Do what we do to all murderers, Barty."

"Send your own son to Azkaban, Lesath? Are you mad?"

My father merely shrugged, and turned away.

"Seems that Pettigre- Sirius Aiden Black, if you do not stop laughing, I will personally administer your first beating in Azkaban!" he roared.

The next thing I knew, I was on a boat, being shipped off to Azkaban.

Geographically, Azkaban is about sixty-eight miles from the Orkney Islands in the North Sea. At one point, it had been a concentration camp for known witches and wizards in the thirties and forties. Adolf Hitler had promised that any witch or wizard who assisted him would have a place of position in the Third Reich, and those weak witches and wizards, predecesors to the Death Eaters, succumbed to Hitler's promises.

When I saw the fort on the last day I saw sunlight, I could feel a feeling of despair. My own father helped me go to Azkaban. Barty Crouch let it happen, and with no trial.

"You are no son of mine," my father was telling me. I was only half listening.

We entered the fort, just as the sun broke over the horizon. I was marched into a room that was harsh, and bare. It was like... there was no happiness there.

"Take off your clothes, Sirius, and put anything of value in that tin. That includes all silver you wear." My father knew I refused to wear gold, as I thought it was tacky. First, I removed the heavy ring with the Black family crest my father had given me for my fourteenth birthday. Second, the star necklace with an opal in the center. I put both in the cup. Last to go were my peircings. Lip, eyebrow, and... other parts. I didn't take out the tongue ring, though. My father still has no idea I have it peirced.

After I did what I was told, I was given a set of striped clothes, that looked as if they had been around since the forties. I put the pants on, as I had been instructed to, but the shirt was to remain in my hand. I looked up, and saw my father had a whip in his hand. But, to my surprise, no firewhiskey bottle.

"Stand there, boy," he said to me, even though I was hardly a boy at this point. I was twenty-one! But anyway, I don't want to go into details with that.

So, after that, I was ushered into a high-security cell on the East wing of the fort. I didn't have to do much. I could lie there, sit there, write there, sleep there. I stayed there in my Animangus form, as Dementors couldn't feed off of my emotions. My main thought, to tell you the honest truth, was of you. I learned that my daughter had wound up being crippled when she fell from a tree when she was seven.

In short, Azkaban was hell. They starved you for days on end, to see if you could last. They tested your endurance to pain, to depression, and to insanity.

"Wow." Harry said. "That's... amazing."

"And thats what I want to tell some one." Sirius said. "But I think I've got everything memorized. My death is a bit hazy, but Remus's owls gave me the gist of it." Harry stood to leave. "And Harry?"

"Yeah, Sirius?"

"Just remember one thing. No matter how much you think everyone hates you... I love you." Sirius said, a soft look in his eyes. Harry swooped down on his godfather, and hugged him tightly.

"I love you too, Fleabag." he said, grinning. He left Sirius, who had a look on his face of reminiscing. Only two people had ever called him Fleabag.

James Potter.

And Regulus Black.