Disclaimer: I am not JK Rowling and I do not own Harry Potter. I am not making money from this story, it is purely for entertainment.

Chapter 3:

"I'm telling you, Mad-eye," Sirius said for the fourth time that night, tapping his finger against the map. "The lower corridor is abandoned now. It's how I escaped. It's the best place to penetrate Azkaban. The structure is at its weakest."

"The guards never worried about a prisoner walking out the damn place, Black." Alastor growled irritably. "Most prisoners can't wipe the drool from their face after the first week. It's outside forces that the prison is most protected from and you weren't exactly human when you escaped. Getting in will be a lot harder than getting out."

"Then I will transform and bring the wards down from the inside, if I have to."

"No," Albus responded tiredly, rubbing his temples with the tips of his fingers. It seemed to him that they had been going in circles for hours now, contemplating the best route of attack but to no avail. Sirius' inside knowledge of the building was invaluable but it seemed the task ahead of them was appearing more and more impossible with every passing minute.

"No." He repeated, his voice becoming firmer as he stared into narrowed, gray eyes. "Even if you could bring down the wards yourself, Sirius, you would bring down the entire prison. I would like to avoid as much bloodshed as possible."

Albus got to his feet slowly, ignoring the crack and groans of his joints as he moved. Walking to the fire, he leaned against the mantle and stared into the flames until his sight became blurred, enjoying the warmth on his skin. He was sure the darkness of Grimmauld Place was becoming more sinister before their eyes.

"Its is a moot point, Sirius." Remus said reasonably. "You don't have the power it would take to bring down the wards on Azkaban. None of us could."

"That's not entirely true, is it?" Sirius asked slowly, softly. Albus closed his eyes. "Dumbledore….Albus." He implored. "You have that kind of power, you're stronger than all of us combined. You can do it."

"Sirius-" Albus began sadly, his heart aching. He could barely stand the pleading in Sirius' voice.

"I don't care, Dumbledore!" Sirius said forcibly, the scraping of his chair against the floor startling in the silence that followed his outburst. "We've been doing this for days and we're getting nowhere. I don't care about the prisoners or the guards. I don't care about how much blood is spilt as long as it's not Harry's. If it's guilt you're worried about then I will take it all. I will take the goddamn responsibility of every single person who gets hurt if I need to… but I will worry about it once Harry is safe."

"Look at me!" Sirius yelled when no answer was forthcoming and Albus forced himself to turn. The other two occupants in the room were staring between them with a kind of macabre fascination but Albus' focus was on Sirius alone and the gray eyes that held a lifetime of pain. The younger man blinked suddenly as if coming out of a daze and Albus was sure he saw those eyes fill with moisture.

"He's all alone." Sirius continued, his voice breaking. It seemed he had run out of words, out of arguments borne from weeks of frustration and helplessness. All that was said was: "Those bastards put him in my cell, Dumbledore."

Dropping to his seat once again, Sirius buried his face in his hands and took a steadying breath. Swallowing against the emotion in his throat, Albus looked around the kitchen of Grimmauld Place, his eyes barely passing the blueprints and maps of Azkaban that covered every inch of the table and focused on the occupants, trying to gain some semblance of control. Alastor was looking decidedly uncomfortable, both eyes staring fixedly at a point in the wall as if it held the answer to life's mysteries. Remus reached out to place a comforting hand on his friends back but was shrugged off abruptly with a muffled "don't touch me" soon following. It appeared as if everyone was lost for words.

"Precisely." Albus said after a few moments of awkward silence, moving to settle into his chair once more. "There are dementors stationed at his door, he is surrounded by Voldemort's most loyal followers, who by now will know of his return. We would have mere seconds after the wards were disabled to get to Harry before anyone else."

Sirius did not respond but the slight droop of his shoulders told Albus he had come to the same conclusion.

"Well now that we've drawn a line under what we can't do," Alastor said gruffly. "How about we focus on what we can."

Albus ignored him. Placing a strong hand on Sirius' shoulder, he finally voiced what had been unsaid since the news of Harry's arrest. "No one helped you."

Sirius lifted his head so fast, Albus was surprised his neck didn't crack beneath the force. Pained eyes bored into him, a hint of warning gleaming from the depths but it did not deter him. "I didn't help you and you spent twelve years in Azkaban because of it. I know you have no reason to trust me, Sirius but I gave Harry my word that I would see him released. If you can believe that then it is a start."

Sirius nodded so slowly, Albus began to question whether he had moved at all. "I trust you."

"Thank you, Sirius."

"Well, this is all very touching but we have more important things to be done." Alastor said roughly, pushing a particular document towards him. "Since full on attack is out of the question, what else?"

Albus smiled at his old friend for his usual brashness and lowered his hand. Remus cleared his throat and turned his attention from Sirius to address the group.

"Coercion, deception." He replied dryly. "Or compulsion."

Sirius laughed softly, trying to wipe the moisture from his eyes without notice. "Or all of the above."

"Why not." Remus said with a wry smile. "It seems unfair that you are the only wanted man in here. By this rate we'll be murdered at the front gate."

"Well, Dumbledore is almost as good as wanted." Sirius said, his voice laced with sarcasm. "I'm sure Fudge would roll out the welcome mat if you walked into Azkaban. Doesn't that make you feel special?"

"Most decidedly." Albus responded in a similar fashion, his eyes lifting to the ceiling. "Oh if life were but a series of busy nothings, how content I would be."

Alastor sighed heavily and pointedly, and appeared as if he were struggling not to roll his eyes.

"This is getting us nowhere!" He snapped, rising to his feet; the sound of wooden leg clunking against the floor as he moved, taking up Albus' abandoned position next to the fire. "We might as well send Black in alone and have at it!"

Sirius snorted and swiped a hand across his eyes "Even I'm not that reckless."

"I must say," Albus said carefully, feeling the rushing thoughts within his head come to a standstill. It felt as if he were on the edge of clarity, a plan forming without thought or difficulty for the first time in weeks. "That is not a terrible idea."

"I'm sorry?" Remus said with a nervous laugh. "Are you serious, Albus?"

Albus smiled and pressed his fingertips together. He found the position rather comfortable after years of practice. "Quite."

"Oh bollocks." Sirius muttered under his breath. "We're all going to die."

Remus leaned forward in his chair, his face a mask of curiosity. "What plan are you cooking up, Albus?"

"I can't stand to be around that many dementors at one time, Dumbledore." Sirius interrupted before Albus could explain. "I won't have the strength to get him out."

"Unless we cause a diversion." Albus replied with a faint smile. "If we can keep their eye fixed on us, you should have enough time to get Harry out and lead him towards the exit."

"Madness!" Alastor growled, slamming his staff against the floor to reiterate his point. Although, Albus noticed with humor, he did not seem overly opposed to the idea.

"But you said yourself that after Crouch escaped, the security was increased. Polyjuice potion, invisibility cloaks-none of them work…Harry would be noticed right away-"

"Ah, but Harry's cloak is rather remarkable." Albus interrupted Remus.

Sirius and Remus shared a knowing glance before returning their attention to him. "Yeah," Sirius said, leaning back in his chair. "We know. We spent most of our childhood hidden under it. It never failed us once."

"Nor Harry." Albus said, feeling his moustache twitch as he remembered the many adventures of the two generations. "May it not fail him now. I will see that it is brought here before we leave. Bring it to him, Sirius and lead him to the exit. I'll make sure he gets out from there."

"Hang on," Sirius said. "You couldn't possibly draw every guard and dementor to the front gate just by turning up."

"Cornelius is not stupid, Sirius. He knows I will not leave Harry there for long. He will have warned the guards that I will make some sort of rescue attempt. My very appearance will be enough to heighten the security enough to draw their attention to me. Alastor. Remus. You will join me. I will need your assistance."

"And the dementors?" Alastor questioned softly.

"All those emotions expressed during an attack, after feeding on the near-dead?" Remus voiced with barely concealed disgust. "They'll flock to us in a heartbeat."

"Yes," Sirius said quietly, as if talking to himself. After a moment, he raised his head and stared at Dumbledore with a newfound determination. "I could do it. I can enter the way I escaped. Without the dementors, I can get to Harry."

And with the declaration silence fell over the occupants of Grimmauld Place, each member lost within their own thoughts. Albus was unsure how much time had passed. He was sure this was their best chance, the risk was a worthy cause in his eyes but what he feared most of all was the state Harry would be in when they reached him. Albus let his eyes fall shut and prayed to whatever deity that would listen that Harry's strong character would be enough to keep him; that there would be something worth saving if they succeeded.

The slamming of the front door against the wall caused the ground beneath their feet to quake and the shouts of Sirius' mother was startling in the stillness that had settled over them. Sirius had half-risen from his chair to silence the portrait when the kitchen door swung open with a frightening bang and Severus entered looking uncharacteristically disheveled. Sirius dropped into his chair unceremoniously.

"Headmaster." Severus said hurriedly, his black eyes narrowed in apprehension. "I bring unfortunate news."

"Severus, what on earth has happened?"

"The Dark Lord is furious, Albus. The Order stationed at the Hall of Prophecies has been attacked. The prophecy he seeks has been destroyed in the battle."

"My God." Breathed Remus. Albus stood in a flurry of robes and faced the Potions Master, the silent question passing between them.

Severus nodded. "He has assembled his strongest followers. He is breaking into Azkaban tonight."

A cold dread settled somewhere deep in Albus' stomach and he struggled to keep the panic from showing on his face.

"I'm afraid our time is up." He addressed the others as they surged to their feet as one. "We're leaving."

HPHPHP

Harry awoke to the unwelcome intrusion of a voice. Barely finding the strength to lift his arm, he struggled to push away the offending hand on his shoulder. Frowning, he forced his eyes open and peered into the familiar face hovering above him. His breath caught in his throat.

Sirius.

"Oh thank God." Sirius breathed, a calloused hand stroking Harry's cheek. "I thought for a moment that you were d-"

He cleared his throat nervously and pulled Harry into sitting position, keeping a steadying hand on his shoulder when he wobbled uncontrollably, his wasted muscles aching under the slightest movement.

"Sirius?" Harry croaked after a moment of shocked silence. "You've been caught?"

Sirius gave a bark of laughter, the sound unfamiliar to Harry's ears. "Not quite. I've come to get you out of here. Come on, get up."

Harry barely resisted the urge to vomit with the sudden movement as he was dragged to his feet. Resting most of his weight against Sirius, he was pulled from the room and into the dilapidated corridor. It appeared abandoned.

"Where are the dementors?" Harry whispered in the eerie silence. Sirius hushed him and tightened the arm wrapped around his waist.

"Don't talk."

Harry complied and focused his effort on putting one foot in front of the other, which in his weakened seemed to him an endless journey. The feel of Sirius' woolen cloak, his scent and the warmth of the arm that kept him upright nearly brought tears to Harry's strained eyes: It was the only source of comfort he had received in weeks. After what felt like an eternity, Harry felt his heart stop as he felt the first stirrings of wind against his skin. With a shuttered breath, he took a tumbling step into the glow of the moon, which seemed almost unbearably bright to his tired eyes. He forced himself not to close his eyelids against the sight. He had never seen anything so utterly beautiful. Before he could control himself, a startled sob escaped his throat and he leaned against the strong warmth at his side.

He was free. A surge of happiness welled up inside him until he thought he could scream into the night.

Without warning, the scar on his forehead seared with pain and he collapsed to his ground. He barely felt the pain in his knees when he landed. He tried to call out but Sirius had vanished from his side without word or reassurance. Pressing his hands against his forehead, Harry was shocked to find the flesh was not peeling beneath his fingertips. His eyes watered as the pain amplified to an unbearable intensity and an anger that was not his own filled his body until he could hardly cling to consciousness. Closing his eyes, he welcomed the blessed darkness.

When he woke again, he was lying on the cold ground of his cell, his fingertips resting against the engraving on the wall, the same position he had fallen asleep in the previous night. It wasn't the first time Voldemort had shown such delusions to him in his sleep; the means of escape varying from Dumbledore's appearance to Harry's own skill. And every time, Harry would reach the prison boundaries before he woke within in his cell; still trapped with only Voldemort's sinister presence for company.

He ran his fingertips over the name on the wall once more, reveling in the sharpness of rock against his skin. The wall had been so badly scored as if the writing had been engraved and re-engraved with each fading year: the only proof of who the previous inmate had been.

Sirius Black

Harry frowned and pushed himself until he was leaning against the wall, the sweat that had pooled in the small of his back cooling against the frigid rock. It was the first time since Voldemort had discovered their connection that he had left him. He could still feel the fading anger that was pulsing through his veins and the slight throb of his scar. Somewhere through his disorientation, Harry knew Voldemort was beyond furious. He closed his eyes at the despair that filled him and feared the next time Voldemort appeared he would not be a figment of his imagination.

Reaching out in the darkness, Harry's hand collided with the sharpened rock and lifting it, he contemplated the rough edge for an unmeasured time. Perhaps he should engrave his name on the wall as well. He found he was struggling to remember it.