3A/N: Disclaimer - The author and the twisted, messy, writhing mass of "What's this do?" that is their brain does not own any of the characters or situations in this story, or even the word "the". As such, they are not the owner of a multi-billion(?) or at the very least multi-million dollar franchise, and if they were, this would be a Deleted Scene or on Pottermore. As it is neither, it is safe to assume that the author coined as Dark Lord Duckie is neither J. K. Rowling or Warner Brothers, such as it were. DLD is also broke, so would appreciate not being sued for playing with characters.
"Catenis est Extritio et Sperare"
Translation: "Chains of Misery and Hope"
It may have been a dark night. It may even have been stormy, with the rain beating against the slick rocks, the neverending drum of the weather pounding against the walls; the surf beating against the shore again and again. It may have been a bright day. It may have been that the scorching sun pierced through the never ending gloom surrounding the tiny island, heating the stones and bars that criss-crossed the structure upon it. It may have been a blizzard, or a typhoon, or a small bunny rabbit named Gerald, but it didn't matter. None of it did.
The outside world held no comfort or sympathy for the inmates of Azkaban Prison. The scum of the Wizarding World trapped in a small 6x4 room with a bucket and rags at best. The screams of the damned and the insane echoing through the corridors, reverberating around the cell of one dank, dirty and bedraggled convict, the "mass murderer" Sirius Black.
He sat hunched over, his knees drawn to his chin, staring unseeing at the dirt floor, his throat long since gone hoarse with screaming, his voice far gone. All tears had left his eyes and dried on his face, leaving tracks that barely managed to carve a pathway through the grime on his face. It had been a decade, more or less. Ten long grueling years beating against the walls; screaming obscenities at the world; scrabbling his fingers bloody at the floor and finally collapsing in the corner, barely moving even to eat. A slowly emaciating figure that was once a laughing, joyous, happy-go-lucky well loved man.
As it always did, every day, his mind turned inwards, thinking of the friends, no... the adopted family that he had lost. He shuddered cruelly as a Dementor passed close to the cell, his spine jutting from his back scraping against the wall, aggravating the years of scars from the same movement over again. It was just another dull pain in this sentence of both iron and stone and the mire of the innocence that gave him no joy. Shaking his head minutely, his mind - trained over time to deal with the ever looming threat of Dementors hovering nearby daily - drifted back to a happier time when he was a schoolboy at Hogwarts.
The year was 1977, the Muggles were in full force in psychedelic clothing and nobody batted an eyelash at the Muggle baiting charges as the majority of those Muggles were all on some sort of substance named Cannabis anyway and all convinced they were bewitched with levitation charms.
The young man named Sirius Orion Black, formerly of the Noble House of Black, was set to continue his illustrious and informative educational career, such as it were, at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry that September. It was his sixth year and he had been adopted by the Potters that Summer after he had abandoned his family. He had had enough of their pureblood elitist bigotry and was eternally grateful to the Potters.
In any case, he was looking forward to spreading his influence across the school, with his close friends; garnering attention from the ladies of the Castle, chatting up any that caught his eye in return for a kiss or something more. He had quite the few notches on his wand in that regard, figuratively speaking. As soon as he made it through the barrier between platforms 9 and 10 at King's Cross Station, he waited for James to come through as well, casting his eye over the hustle and bustle of the platform. They had arrived with plenty of time to spare for once. That is to say, it was earlier than ten to eleven. A jerked hand caught his attention out the corner of his eye, alerting him to the presence of the other two Marauders, making their way over from wherever it was their families had been waiting.
Moony looked as good as he normally did post-Transformation, which basically meant tired and bedraggled, but otherwise fine. Prongs pulled his trolley up alongside him and stared out at the crowd. Padfoot didn't even have to guess who he was searching for; they were all aware of his crush on the lovely Miss Evans. Finally the mousy haired shortest member of their group plodded over, as nervous as a Gryffindor should rarely be, he'd always been curious about that, had Padfoot. But that was just how he'd always been, had their friend Wormtail.
A Dementor passing by the cell brought Sirius viciously out of his reverie, screaming himself hoarse and thrashing, his mind trapped on the image of Wormtail, the man who had betrayed them all and got Lily and James killed. The man who he, Padfoot, had told them to trust.
"Oh Merlin, no..." he cried, speaking for the first time in weeks, "No, no, no... I'M SORRY JAMES. I'M SO SORRY!" He curled in on himself, breaking down in sobs which eventually subsided as the Dementor passed down the corrridor. Sirius' psyche enveloped him again in an effort to keep his mind from collasping.
Padfoot paced back and forth, impatient in the waiting room at the Hospital Wing. A raid had claimed the lives of several of their classmates, including injuring his date to Hogsmeade who he was mildly concerned for, but not so much as James, who had come up against the leader of the raid and been put under the Cruciatus curse. Padfoot was glad that, at least, James hadn't given in to the lure of the Dark arts, not that he thought he would. James came from a strong Light family, after all. Nor did he give the leader the satisfaction of screaming in pain, but if what the mediwitch had said, he darn near almost bit through his tongue. Padfoot was so glad he hadn't lost his adopted brother. He was so glad...
Coming back to the present, Sirius stared unseeing at the cell door, not registering anything save the knowledge that he had lost his adopted brother after all, through the fault of his own misconceptions and trust in a man that had betrayed them all. He had as good as killed them himself."I'm sorry, James... Lily. Oh Merlin, Harry, I'm so sorry... I'm so sorry..." his eyes refused to generate more tears, instead just leaving him rocking slightly as he teetered on the edge of hyperventilation.
He was pacing again, outside the door to the Maternity ward proper in St Mungo's. He had dropped everything and came as soon as James had buzzed him on his two way mirror, except the mirror, that is. He thought he could hear the piercing shrieks through what was likely a Silencing Charm, muffled such as it was, followed by an agonizing groan. While he wished to be closer for moral support, he was glad he didn't have to deal with Lily as she currently was. James would be lucky, probably, to get off with a few crushed fingers and possibly his manhood if the anecdotes from other proud new parents was anything to go by.
After what felt like hours, and probably was come to think of it, Padfoot was ushered in by a mediwitch who had caught his eye - in more ways than one. He followed a step behind the mediwitch, allowing her to lead him down the corridor, not because he didn't know where he was going, but he wanted to watch where she was going, so to speak. She stopped abruptly and turned around, blushing slightly as she caught his eyes flickering belatedly to her face. With a half smile, she opened the door, and Padfoot was distracted by an even more beautiful, tender sight.
Lily, lying in the hospital bed looking tired but content, with a little swaddled form in her arms, as James sat as close as he could without being on top of her, with one hand strangely bandaged that he wouldn't let the assisting mediwitch get close to as he stared down at his wife and newborn son. With a slight double take, he glanced up to Padfoot and beckoned him in with his bandaged hand, allowing the mediwitch to make her move and capture it for healing.
Rolling his eyes at her ministrations of his unimportant injury, he waited for Padfoot to slowly walk towards the three Potters. "Padfoot, this is Harry. Harry, this is Padfoot, he's going to be your godfather." He looked up at Padfoot, raising his eyebrows questioningly, having not actually asked him prior to the event.
"With all my heart, James. With all my heart." he whispered back, slowly reaching out to lightly carress the newborn's tuft of messy black hair. "I'll never leave you Harry." Dropping his hand back, Sirius looked around to see the mediwitches, including the one that had been working on James' hand had left the room. With a grin, he stepped back and concentrated briefly, popping into his dog form a moment later and curling up in the seat next to the bed, keeping an eye on his new pup, though not of his blood, he was as good as.
Sirius' eyes jerked open suddenly, his surroundings looking pale and washed out as a semblance of a smile played on his mouth. Harry. He was still alive. He promised never to leave him, but he had. He was going to live up to his promise to his pup, Sirius vowed to himself, scratching at his ear with his ... paw? Sirius leapt up on all fours, startled. This was new. He could change into Snuffles at will, but had never attempted it before in Azkaban. Turning around in circles, ignoring the flopping, enticing tail that taunted him, he slowly came to a stop, staring at the door to the cell, smelling decay and death glide by. There was no coldness. No depression. There was just ... dog joy. The Dementors didn't affect him in this form.
If dogs could cry, he'd be crying tears of hope and joy. But for now, he lay down to gather his strength. He expected that the auror guards would be by soon with the day's meal, and he didn't want to be caught dogging the system.
Cornelius Fudge had just left a few hours ago after his semi-annually inspection of the structure and grounds of Azkaban Prison. Sirius had managed to acquire the Daily Prophet to both mess with the politician and see what was going on in the Wizarding World when he saw it; both the Weasley family who's youngest few were friends with Harry Potter and the rat, perched on the young boy's shoulder - Pettigrew... no. The boy he knew was dead, his friend was dead. He was only the rat now. He was only Wormtail. No longer an honorific, but a curse.
"Hogwarts... he's at Hogwarts." snarled Sirius, slipping into a rage at the rat being free, being so close to the boy he had helped to orphan. Sirius screamed at the injustice of it all and barely managed to shift into dog form before collapsing.
Soon. He thought, Soon...
"We interrupt this scheduled broadcast to announce that notorious mass murderer Sirius Black has escaped from prison, he is armed, dangerous and may be carrying a gun. We urge you to remain calm, to stay safe, and to call the authorities if you see him." The Television flickered and changed back to the waterskiing hamster. The giant black dog, tongue lolling from it's mouth, whined lowly and bounded away from the front of the hardware store. He had a mission, and a boy to save, to protect, he had to get to Hogwarts.
But first... he had to see that Harry was safe...