The Grim

Summary: Harry was about to become the-Boy-Who-Lived-To-Blow-Up-His-Aunt. He was positive it was an Auror in those bushes. And just as he was about to put aside his suspicions, a dog emerged from between the bushes. What? Did the Ministry employ dogs as well?

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Harry Potter. There. I said it. Now I'm never gonna say it again. Maybe.

This is the first chapter of The Grim, which is set starting from the beginning of the Prisoner of Azkaban. For people who've read this before, I've edited parts of it, so not all of it is the same. Mind you, I've edited it because I couldn't get back into the flow of the story and update. It has been a bit more than five months, so... meh. Enjoy.

He had blown up his aunt. He had blown up his AUNT. He had BLOWN UP his aunt. It was as though someone up there really hated him. Of course there was. How else did he become what he was? Harry Potter, boy extraordinaire, the Boy-Who-Lived, savior of the Wizarding World, and the holder of many other unnecessary titles. And how did he come by them? His dead parents. What kind of exchange was that?

If anything, he had gotten the short end of the stick. What stick? Who cares about a bloody stick? That stick should just burst into flames or something. It was like the gods had selected randomly, and just decided to pick on him. Him. Why him? Of all the other people in the world, why him? There were billions of people in the world… and a couple million Wizards among those billions. What were the chances that the gods decided to gang up on him and compete to see who could make his life the most miserable?

And now, after blowing up his aunt, he was going to be chucked into prison as soon as the authorities caught him.

'What did Malfoy call it again? Alakazam? Az… Azkaban? Something like that. The point is that Hagrid stayed there for three months or so, and utterly hated the place… and if Hagrid couldn't take it, how am I supposed to?' Harry shook his head. Although being in Hogwarts for two years had a beneficial effect on his body, he was still shorter and punier than his peers.

Scowling, Harry let go of his trunk and fell onto the sidewalk, ignoring the pain of impact with the concrete as he idly twirled his wand between his hands. Such a fragile object. And yet, it was one of his most prized possessions, along with his photo album, his Nimbus 2000, and his Invisibility Cloak. His father's Invisibility Cloak, and one of his last connections to the parents he had never gotten to know. And yet, within a few short hours (if he had even that), this wand was going to be snapped.

This wand gave him his first experience of doing magic and manipulating it to do his will. It gave him confidence, power, and a sense of himself, a sense of belonging. And in that same way, Hogwarts had become his home. It was only for a short, yet memorable, two years, but those two years were the most dangerous, yet best years of his entire life. And that would all be gone simply because he couldn't control his bloody temper.

He was angry at himself, but like any other normal teenager, he pushed the blame on someone else, anyone else. His uncle, for inviting his aunt to visit. His aunt, for insulting his parents. Even Professor McGonagall, for sending the stupid permission slip that started the entire fiasco. And yet, he knew that he shouldn't have lashed out like that.

"Good going, Potter," he muttered bitterly, letting out a low chuckle that stopped as soon as it started.

Staring down, he ran his hand lightly over the pavement. The tiny granules of sand and dirt stuck to his skin, falling in a pitter-patter-like action back down when he rubbed his fingertips together. It was oddly mesmerizing… or hypnotizing at least. A yell grabbed his attention, and looking backwards, he caught sight of his now bloated aunt, who now resembled one of those large balloons that he saw in a parade on the telly. Harry grinned at his small act of revenge. Even if the Ministry of Magic arrived to deal with damage control, and Marge was to be Obliviated, at least his guardians would become well aware of the threat he posed, that he wasn't just a powerless little child.

Harry groaned, running his hand through his messy, untamable hair, freezing that movement when the bush across the street suddenly shook, causing a few leaves to flutter to the ground. It could have been reasoned that the cause was simply the wind passing through, but that argument would have been stronger if the trees had rustled as well. He immediately reached down for his wand and held it tightly, waiting for his apprehender to appear. Though he wasn't attacked yet, he was positive it was an Auror in those bushes.

His anxiety grew as he waited for the Auror to appear. His grip on his wand tightened as his arm noticeably tensed, causing the wand to shoot a few sparks from the end, almost as if they were a representation of his frazzled nerves. He vaguely heard a few cars passing by on a main street nearby, his family's yells from the house he just left, and the shifting of his clothing. And just as he was about to put aside his suspicions, a dog emerged from between the bushes.

'What? Did the Ministry employ dogs as well?' The dog, large and black, though it could have been just an effect due to the lighting, padded over to him, making sure to look both ways before crossing the street. 'Looking both ways? What kind of dog was this?' Harry suddenly imagined one of those Muggle cartoons that Dudley had watched, with animals on two legs and talking like humans. He was still sitting in shock when the dog reached him, put something down on the street, and then nudged his arm with its head, whining.

Looking down, he saw a leaf with dog slobber on it. The dog pushed the leaf towards him with his nose, and so Harry reached down for it, grabbing it by its stem. Making sure to not touch the drool, he examined the leaf carefully, feeling like an idiot. Here he was, sitting on the curb with a wand in hand, his Nimbus propped up carefully on his trunk, staring at a leaf because the stray dog sitting in front of him practically told him to.

Finding nothing except slobber on the leaf, he was about to say just that, before something caught his attention. "'Please don't be surprised,'" he read, squinting his eyes to read the dull pencil-writing on the leaf in the light. "Please don't be surprised? Surprised about what?" Harry looked down at the dog as though the dog could answer. Why was he assuming that the dog could answer? In fact, why was he assuming that the dog even wrote this note? The stress from waiting for the Aurors to swoop down on him where he sat must have been getting to him.

The dog looked up at him pitifully, its eyes enlarging to impossible proportions, making it close to impossible for Harry to deny it. He smiled crookedly and decided to humor the dog. "Okay, I'll try to not be surprised. Now, what is going on?"

'Merlin, Potter. You've really cracked now. Blowing up your aunt, talking to dogs, talking to yourself in your head as though you were a different entity. Simply brilliant on your part.'

'Do shut up.'

'And now you're having conversations in your mind... and telling yourself to shove off. Keep this up, and you'll be as insane as Dumbledore himself.'

'Dumbledore's not insane!'

'But he's not exactly sane, now is he?'

Sometime during his conversation with himself, the dog placed a hand on the wand. Harry stiffened. One false move, and the giant dog could accidently snap his wand. The dog looked into his eyes and Harry was slightly unsettled by the icy blue eyes that were gazing at him so desperately. And within seconds, just like what happened in his first Transfiguration class, the animal was replaced with a human. Harry stared at the man, before recognition lit his eyes and he narrowed them.

"You!" He tried to stand up and move back, but there was limited space due to the man that was sitting right at his feet. The paw that was on his wand had moved to his wrist, and in its place was a hand. Harry gritted his teeth and pulled at his arm. Realizing that it was a lost cause, Harry settled with pointing the wand at the man with his fingers since his hand almost immobile.

"You're Sirius Black! You're the one they were talking about on the telly." Harry growled, before pausing. "B- but… you… you're an Animagus… a Wizard?"

Sirius smiled ruefully, his eyes showing amusement at Harry's stammering, and bent down and picked up the leaf. "I did tell you to not be surprised," He murmured in a scolding manner, his voice croaking from possible disuse. He let out a bark of a laugh that sounded almost haunted.

Upon a closer look, Harry noticed that Sirius really was just skin and bone, but his grip never gave off that impression. His eyes were sunken into an ashen face. His hair was matted and streaked with gray. After a moment of laughing, Sirius looked at Harry, his eyes warm and loving, and looking out of place, but Harry saw the crazed part of him, created from his time in prison.

And that reminded him. Prison. This man in front of him was a prisoner, sent there for the murder of about a dozen Muggles. And yet, he stood in front of him as though he didn't have the entire Muggle world, and even perhaps the Wizarding world, on the lookout for him.

"Who are you?" The question slipped out of him before he registered it.

"Merlin, Harry, I thought we've been through this already. I'm Sirius Black, of course."

"Who are you really? How do you know who I am?"

"Harry," he began, his voice still raspy. "Look, this isn't the place to talk about this."

Harry started. He had entirely forgotten that they were still in Surrey, two wizards in the middle of a neighborhood of Muggles.

"How do I know what you aren't leading me to my death? You are a murderer after all." Harry kept his wand pointed steadily at the man.

If he tried anything, then Harry would attack first. He was already used to life-threatening situations, if Voldemort, a demented and possessed professor, a couple dozen man-eating Acromantulas, a vengeful memory from the past, and a Basilisk counted for anything.

At this, Sirius chuckled darkly. "Harry, if I wanted to kill you, I would have done so already."

Harry nodded at the truth of those words. "And where do you suppose we should go? And how?"

"The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black is located at number twelve Grimmauld Place," Sirius muttered, breaking eye contact with Harry as he glanced around them. Even though he was only a foot away from the convict, Harry just barely caught the words, sending a quizzical glance at him, mulling over the words just spoken.

Sirius glanced down at the leaf, wiped it on his… shirt, if it could even be called that, before stuffing it in Harry's free hand. He moved to place a hand on his trunk and broomstick and whispered, "Please don't be surprised." Harry's eyes widened at the familiar sensation of being forced down a tube. Side-along Apparation.

And he cursed to whatever god was listening at the moment about sticks and receiving the short ends of them as Privet Drive instantly disappeared.

I hate my computer. It is so frustratingly slow... I'll need to get a new one soon. I think using this computer actually managed to shave off a few years of my life. How depressing.