Sirius looked up. He smelled them before he even felt their presence.

The Dementors were coming to serve dinner.

It never failed. They always came at exactly the same time every evening, with a plate of disgusting, soggy gruel that he knew if he didn't eat, he would not survive.

The other prisoners began to moan and groan in pain as they came closer, but not Sirius. He simply took deep, long breaths, and concentrated as hard as he could on one thing: Remus.

The chilled wind began to bellow through the hallway. The tiny window that was at the very top of his cell offered a distinctly foul smell, which meant the tide was high and lapping against the bottom of the rocks beneath it. From what he could tell, he was on the Western side, because sometimes he could hear the water hitting the side of the boats as they carried prisoners to the main gate, which he knew was on the west side. He had time to think about these things.

That awful, cold, sinking feeling that accompanied the Dementors flooded the hallway and soon a plate of sloppy goo was thrown in front of him, along with a package.

Wait…a package?

Who could it possibly be from? Why would they send him something? And what is it? Sirius frantically lunged at the box before any of the other prisoners saw it, in case they tried to steal it in hopes of fresh food. Crawling back into the corner of his cell, he examined the package very, very carefully, turning it over and over in his hands. He sniffed it. It had no smell except for the brown package paper scent…as well as a hint of laundry detergent. It made no rattling sound when he shook it. It also had no return address. In fact, the only writing on it was his own name, spelled out in beautiful script.

He decided to hide it under the hay and eat his dinner first. This was a very special occasion and must be savored properly. After all, it had been two years since anything out of the ordinary had happened in the daily routine of his life in Azkaban. It had been two years since he had been taken here…and left here to die. Even by Remus.

Slowly eating so as not to make himself sick from the malnutrition he suffered from, he set the dish in the hallway after he was done and settled down in the hay with his package, putting it in his lap. Gently he untied the delicate string, wrapping it around a stick so it wouldn't get tangled and placing it behind a loose cement stone next to the bed where he kept all his little treasures, such as paper clips, coins, and whatnot. Then he went on to the paper, making sure not to rip even the smallest corner. After folding it and placing it behind the loose stone, he finally unwrapped a few pieces of tissue paper that were wrapped around the very pliable object.

And then, sitting in his lap, was a quilt.

It was a beautiful quilt- no mistake about that. Gorgeous dark colors, patch-worked into diamond designs, layered very thickly inside with feathered down. Warm, clean, hand-stitched, most likely…it was a dream come true.

Sirius wondered to himself. Perhaps this thing had some spell on it that would kill him in his sleep. Maybe it was saturated with poison so he would die slowly and painfully while he kept it in his cell. He didn't have a friend in the world-- nothing but enemies, and last time he checked, enemies didn't send you beautiful hand-made quilts.

It came with no note- no trace of where it had come from. But after feeling its comfort between his fingers he decided that even if it was sent by someone who wanted to kill him, he would die warm, at least.

The blanket was too nice not to use.

With nothing else to do for the day, he settled himself down in his bed of hay, making a sort of sleeping bag out of the blanket to wrap around him during the night. Before he closed his eyes, however, he caught a glimpse of the underside of a corner the quilt that was the closest to his neck. In small tiny letters, a stitched-inscription read:

"You are not alone in the world."

Fascinated by the message but too tired to keep his eyes open and think on it longer, Sirius drifted off to sleep, but for once, he slept with a smile on his face.

Eight years passed.

It was January first. The New Year had begun. Though you would never be able to guess it in Azkaban. The days ran together for those that did not dedicate many long hours to tracking them as Sirius did. He scratched letters and numbers onto the walls frantically, occasionally pausing to scratch his scalp and sit cross-legged staring at the writing. Tiny origami sail boats made out of ancient, overly-creased brown package paper were lined up carefully across the floor. Ripped tissue paper were formed into little paper lanterns that hung from the ceiling from bits of package string. And then that awful groaning and screaming came from the other prisoners. It was dinner time once again.

Sirius crawled on his hands and knees to the bars and tried to crane his neck out to get a good look at how far down the Dementors were in the hallway. Not too far. Good. He had time to finish calculating what day of the week the next new years day was going to fall on….

He heard the plate of mush drop on the floor behind him, but, amazingly enough, another small thud accompanied it. He sharply turned, feeling his black hair flip around his neck and smack into his mouth a little, and was of course surprised to spot yet another package.

He was again confused. Surely, he thought, that packages would be confiscated and searched in a prison like this. Surely the contents was probably not even given to the prisoners. But the package, just like the one he had received long ago, had not been tampered with, and he had been allowed to have it. Just as he had done before, he snatched it and hid it under the hay, waiting until after dinner to open it.

As careful as always, Sirius removed the packaging and found a strange plastic container filled with ham and potatoes. Could he possibly be dreaming this? There was no way this was happening!

A small note accompanied the food. It read, "Soon." And that was all.

Hungrily, Sirius wasted no time in devouring the food , not only because he was greedy, but so that the smell would not saturate his cell and the other prisoners would start questioning him. There was a man in the cell next to him that he handed a piece of the ham, as he knew the man was already mad and starving himself to death. At least, Sirius thought, he should have some ham before he died.

"Hey…" Sirius said hoarsely. He hadn't used his voice in at least a year and a half. He had stopped talking to himself ages ago. It hadn't helped anyway. "Here…h-have some of this…"

His skinny hand offered the ham through the bars of the man's cell. After a long moment of silence, he felt the man gingerly take the meat out of his palm. An hour later, he heard a small voice say, "Thank you."

That man was dead the next morning.

Every month following Sirius received another package. No one was suspicious. No one asked to see what was inside them. This concerned Sirius greatly, but he tried not to think about it too much. In every package there was always a greater amount of food than there was last time and another encouraging note. And occasionally, much to his delight, there was a newspaper clipping about one of the only people left in the world that meant anything at all to him…Harry Potter.

"The Boy Who Lived joins Hogwarts Ranks." one was titled.

"Harry Potter exceeding under Dumbledore." said another.

"Youngest seeker in a century: Harry Potter."

"Potter saves the day at Hogwarts; Chamber of Secrets closed forever."

And instead of hiding these in his little cubby hole, he used the bits of package string to hang them all around the walls of the cell. Every time he looked that them tears nearly pricked at his eyes.

On Christmas he received an entire half of a turkey, stuffing, and cranberry sauce. The Cranberry sauce wasn't perishable, so he hid it carefully and nibbled at it over several days. Another two years went by like this, until one morning Sirius woke up from a nightmare in a cold sweat, wrapped tightly as always in his thick blanket, which now had chew-holes in it. Occasionally in his sleep his body would naturally turn into his alternate form, and Padfoot loved to chew things while he slept. He'd often mull over the chew marks and curse at himself for them.

As Sirius placed himself back in his cell from the nightmare, he began to relive the horrible moments he had been forced to see in his dream that had made him awaken-- those horrible moments when he had been arrested and taken away to the Ministry of Magic, awaiting the non-existent trial.

Not knowing where else to go, Sirius had gone to Remus' house. By then it was all over the radio and every single Ministry employee was looking for him. Sirius had given his motorcycle to Hagrid, so he ran all the way to Remus as fast as his legs could carry him. He knew if he apparated the Ministry would track it. He knew if he cast any sort of spell the Ministry would track it. He had to get to Remus and fast.

He spoke the password to the door and it opened for him. Panting and frantic, Sirius ran inside, only to find Remus standing directly in front of him, blocking him from coming any further in the house.

The radio was on, and his name was blasting out of it, shouting fire and brimstone and something about Voldemort. They were also talking about Lily and James. There were tears staining Remus' cheeks, but his face was as hard and stern as a rock.

Bending down with his hands on his thighs, bracing himself in his exhaustion, Sirius panted, "Rem…didn't know…where else to go…Lily…James…Peter was the secret keeper!"

Remus remained perfectly still and silent. His eyes were bloodshot; his nose and cheeks were bright red. He only stared at Sirius, full of something that looked to Sirius like a mixture of hatred and heartbreak.

"We changed it…last minute…please, Rem, you have to believe me! Rem!" Sirius shouted as he began to catch his breath. He grabbed Remus' shoulders and shook him desperately. Remus continued to remain as still as he could.

"You don't think that I would do that? Rem? Rem? Oh, no, no no No NO!"

Both of them began to cry, Sirius moaning and screaming while Remus still was silent. His wand was in his left hand.

Shocked…horrified, Sirius saw the tiny red sparks coming out of its tip. He knew what it meant.

"You called them here…didn't you…you knew this is where I would come…"

He heard the commotion outside. The Ministry had just landed their brooms. They were storming towards the house.

"I never want to see you again." Remus said.

Sirius stared wide-eyed at Remus, slowly letting go of him. In that moment the world seemed to shatter, and before he could even think to run two Aurors jumped on him and wrestled him to the ground.

"NO! NO! NO! REMUS! MOONY! LISTEN TO ME! I- AM -NOT -A -MURDERER!"

"That's enough there, you come quietly with us. Lupin, the Ministry thanks you for your cooperation. Heh, guess that no matter how nice they seem, once a Black, always a Black." he heard one of the men holding him say as he stared at Remus and felt his heart breaking. He was about to give up until the Ministry worker had said that stab about his family. Remus may hate him but he knew what he was…and he would have to prove it.

Struggling with all his might, Sirius managed to throw them off and he ran for his life. He heard spells missing and hitting trees and things so very close to him, but he dared not look back. He ran and he hid in the forests, crying himself to sleep. And when he woke up the next morning, he thought to himself for a very long time. There was only one way out of this. He would have to find Peter. Before the Aurors found himself.

Running through the streets, he found Peter just in the place he had expected to find him; in front of Lily and James' house. There were muggles gathered around the ruins of the house. There were even a few wizards wearing muggle clothing, surveying the devastation.

Peter was giving quite a show. He was kneeling and crying over the burnt and crumpled photo albums that lay in the rubble. Slowly Sirius came towards him.

Peter beat him to it. "You killed them! How could you do that? You gave them up to The Dark Lord!"

"SHUT UP! You bastard!" Sirius screamed. "I am going to kill you, you traitor! I am going to obliterate you, till there is nothing left of you!"

"Lily and James are dead! And its ALL YOUR FAULT!"

Both men drew out their wands and a giant explosion ensued. When the smoke had cleared, Peter was gone, and there was over a dozen dead bodies lying in the street.

Sirius laughed. He laughed so hard he began to scream.

After Sirius had had a few hours to calm down from his nightmare, a very unexpected visitor came to call on him. None other than Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic.

He heard the footsteps down the hall. "So who's in his wing, Mortimer?" Fudge bellowed.

"Some of our more dangerous criminals, Minister." the man answered. "Only a scarce few are kept here for security reasons."

"List of names, please?"

"Edwina Hutchison, Torrel Gutter, and, uh, lessee, lessee lessee…no, he died last week, he died this morning…looks like we've only got those two and Sirius Black right now, sir."

"Dear lord, Sirius Black? He's still alive?"

"Yessir. We haven't heard him say a word in years, but he's in cell 82, if you care to see him, sir. As far as I reckon, he's the only one out of the three that's competent still. Been getting packages every month for a while…"

"I daresay from whom?"

"Not sure, sir. We're under strict orders from the Auror division not to ask."

"I see. Well I'll trust them to handle it."

Fudge walked down the hall towards Sirius' cell. Still buried in the darkness, Sirius looked up at the silhouette of the Minister and coughed, "Here for sightseeing, Minister?"

"Black? Ah yes, this is cell 82.…" --Fudge glanced down at his clipboard-- "No Black, here on a routine check-up on the prison. Got to do it every five years, you know…keeps the public from getting restless, and making sure the Ministry doesn't let this place go to the dogs."

Sirius laughed inwardly.

"Won't you have a seat, Minister? I'd appreciate a little chit chat, if you don't mind. It's been a while since I've conversed with a sane person."

"Ahhhh…well…uhhh…" Fudge stuttered. He looked around. "Well, I suppose it wouldn't harm anything. And I do have several hours to 'kill,' so to speak, before I get to go back to the Ministry. Less work for me, the better, I say…"

The last sentence he muttered to himself as he pulled up a chair from the hall and sat in front of the bars.

"Mortimer, cup of tea, if you please. Six sugar lumps, no milk."

"Yes, of course, Minister."

Mortimer left them and Fudge crossed his legs in the chair, glancing once again over the clipboard.

"So what, this is your…"

"Eleventh year, Minister." Sirius finished the sentence for him. "It'll be my twelfth next month. I came here on Wednesday, August seventeenth at 9:38 pm; one month, sixteen days and eight hours after Harry Potter's first birthday. Would you like to know the minutes and seconds as well?"

"Uh, no…that won't be necessary, thank you." Fudge said with a distained look.

"Here's a fun fact for you, Minister: Its been over one million minutes since Harry arrived at Hogwarts."

Fudge nervously glanced at the newspaper clippings on Sirius's wall as he listened to him. "You're a little overly-focused on Harry Potter, aren't you, Black?"

Sirius didn't reply.

"Yes, well…I daresay I almost envy you, Black. This place being so peaceful and quiet…and me always being bombarded by questions and noise and more questions…if it weren't for the Dementors, I'd almost call this place paradise. Wouldn't you agree?" Fudge said and laughed. Sirius obviously did not share in his amusement, but attempted a black-toothed grin all the same to be accommodating. After all, he might find out some interesting news if he played his cards right.

Mortimer brought in the Minister's cup of tea and quickly excused himself. The Minister thanked him heartily and took a long whiff of the steaming liquid. "Ah yes, that hit's the old spot…" he exclaimed as he took a sip.

"So Minister, what're the goings-on in the wide, wide world these days? Any giants run around in muggle London this week? Graphorns impaling helpless bystanders?" Sirius asks nonchalantly.

"Oh Heavens no, nothing at all exciting like that, Black. Only thing exciting enough worth mentioning is the playoffs for the Quidditch World cup are starting up next month. See here, there's an article in today's Daily Prophet about it, take a gander…"

Fudge retrieved a folded copy of the Daily Prophet that had been squished under his arm for probably at least a few hours. Careful not to seem greedy, Sirius gingerly took the paper from the Minister's hand and unfolded it so he could take an unhindered look at the front page.

And then it hit him like lightning.

"Its on page three, I believe. Some Bulgarian idiot's accusing Ireland of using jinxed balls in tryouts…nothing unusual really…and that reminds me--"

Fudge went on ranting about Quidditch while Sirius simply stared at the front page.

"Ministry of Magic employee scoops grand prize." it exclaimed as its headline. And there was a picture of Arthur Weasley-- he remembered him vaguely-- and his family posing in some ridiculous muggle garb in front of a pyramid…but that's not what had grabbed his attention…

He'd found him…he'd finally found him…and he hadn't even had to look…

"…of the time Ireland actually did use jinxed balls! Can you believe it? Say now, didn't you used to play Quidditch? ….Black? Black? I daresay, Black are you even there?"

"Y-yes, Minister. I was listening. Ireland. Jinxed balls. Yessir."

"Well then didn't you used to play Quidditch?"

"…Minister, would you be so kind as to let me have this paper?"

"Well I suppose; I have finished reading it…"

"Thank you very much. I am in your debt. This has been a lovely chat- I have thoroughly enjoyed it and hope to see you back soon. Thanks again for coming-- OH MORTIMER!"

Gingerly the man opened the hallway door and curiously peered inwards.

"Minister…?" he asked.

"Minister Fudge was just leaving. He's been so kind having a nice talk with a lowly prisoner such as myself; I'll never forget your kindness sir, a truly wise and strong leader; may I shake your hand? Thank you so much- I'll never wash it again. Buh-bye now! Have a nice day!"

Leaving Fudge stuttering and practically being lead out the door by Mortimer with tea-cup still nearly full, Sirius crouched down into the dark after shaking his hand and waited until he heard the coveted sound of the hallway door slamming. Nearly so excited that he ripped the paper in half, carefully as he could with his hands shaking so violently like that he read the article over and over again, staring at the picture and then back at the words.

"Arthur Weasely, Head of the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office at the Ministry of Magic, has won the annual Daily Prophet Grand Prize Galleon draw. A delighted Mr. Weasely told the Daily Prophet, 'We will be spending the gold on a summer holiday in Egypt, where our eldest son, Bill, works as a curse breaker for Gringotts Wizarding Bank.' The Weasely family will be spending a month in Egypt, returning for the start of the new school year at Hogwarts, which five of the Weasely children currently attend."

You know what this means, don't you? Sirius asked himself.

Yes….

"He's at Hogwarts… he's at Hogwarts…."