I'm innocent … I'm innocent … inno … innocent … I'm ... I shouldn't be here … not here … please … I'm innocent … I'm ... innocent ... I'm innocent … Wormtail ... the spy … not me … I'm innocent … I'm innocent … I'm innocent … James … Lily … dead … I'm innocent ... Harry … little Harry … gone ... my fault … all … my fault ... I'm sorry … shouldn't have trusted … couldn't have known … innocent … I'm ... innocent … I'm inno … cent … please ... I'm innocent … I'm innocent … I'm innocent … no ... I'm innocent … I'm ... innocent … I'm innocent ...

The mantra repeated endlessly in Sirius' head, I'm innocent, keeping him sane, stopping him from wailing in despair like the rest of the inmates, though he had no happy memories left. I'm innocent. He couldn't remember what James looked like, the sound of his laughter, even though he knew they had been closer than brothers. I'm innocent. He could only remember James' anger when he had, in his stupidity, almost killed Snape, and worst of all, revealed Remus' condition to their enemy. My fault … all my fault. He could remember when he had found James and Lily dead and little Harry, his godson, who he had promised to protect at all cost, futilely trying to wake his dead mother up. Harry who, even when it had seemed all was lost, could make him smile, laugh and hope for a better future. He could only think of where Harry might be going, and how he would be treated there. I'm sorry. He knew that Harry would grow up thinking that he had been responsible for his parent's deaths. He knew that Harry was lost to him forever. I'm ...

Sirius broke down, crying. He once again changed to his dog form and his thoughts, although not happy, were simpler. He thought with an animal's mind of hunger and pain, and the raw wound that was the death of his friends seemed just a little easier to bear. He whined at the meagre rations he had been given, but he did not feel the chill of the Dementors. I'm innocent.

Most prisoners give up on food as their will to live diminishes, but Sirius had been determined to stay alive in the hope that he might be released and his innocence proved, I'm innocent, but now eight years had passed and he was no closer to freedom. He was giving up, eating less and less often and was getting weaker and thinner. It didn't seem to matter so much now whether he was guilty or innocent, he had lost his grasp on reality more than once, and sometimes he thought that he might actually be guilty, that he might have betrayed Lily and James and he was tortured with the thought far into the spent more and more time as a dog, enjoying the little freedom it gave him. A dog knows nothing of guilt and innocence. The days, the weeks, the month and the years dragged on, merging into one long nightmare.

Harry would be nine by now, some lost part of his mind reminded him. Sirius tried to picture his face, tried to imagine what he would look like, but found he couldn't. He couldn't even remember the colour of his eyes, which had so captivated him before. He could remember saying that they were the exact shape and colour of Lily's eyes, but what exactly was that shape and colour he could not remember. He could remember with a cold vivid clarity what Harry's scar had looked like, because it was a symbol of all that had gone wrong, all he had lost. That scar haunted his nightmares. He tortured himself constantly wondering how Harry must feel, having to live with it, forever marked out as different, forever reminded of what he had lost. The Harry in his mind had no face, just a large, red scar, spoke in a distant, unearthly voice. You're fault. You should have known. Now I am alone and you do nothing but sit in prison. Failure. You promised to protect me. You promised to love me.

Sirius was overtaken by a sudden and fierce obsession – he had to know what Harry looked like, had to know how he felt, had to know who he was, had to know his dreams and help him realise them, he had to know his fears and make them go away. He had to apologise to this lost boy for all that had gone wrong, all his mistakes that led to his parent's deaths and he had to swear to him that he would make up for them. He had to wrap his arms around his godson again and tell him that he loved him. He had lost too much, he wasn't going to lose Harry. His mind was clear once more. I'm innocent.

Sirius felt the Dementors trying to take the thoughts from his mind and fought to keep them. He soon found that the Dementors couldn't take them, because they weren't happy thoughts. It was an obsession, the need to know his godson, and it gave Sirius strength. He changed to his dog form and tried to force himself through the bars and was surprised to find he managed it with ease, he hadn't realised he had gotten so thin. He let out a bark that almost sounded like a laugh, the other prisoners were so trapped in their own minds that there was no need for any other defences, but he had beaten them. Sirius plunged into the icy cold water and let out another bark out of pure joy. He had not felt so amazingly alive in so long, all the memories that had been taken from him came rushing back in a jumble. The sound of James' voice, his laugh, the feeling of truly belonging for the first time in his life when he met the Marauders. Running with the Marauders every full moon, young, wild and free. The look of pure trust and adulation in Harry's eyes and his happy laugh when he had swung him around and held Harry to him. James and Lily finally dating. How happy Remus had been when he had realised they would accept him as he was and they would do anything to make his transformations easier. Being James' best man, being named godfather to Harry. Running away to James' and finding a new family, one he could truly love. As he swam Sirius lovingly sorted through each and every memory, affectionately lingering on particular ones and basking in their warm glow. I'm innocent and I'm free.

Sirius reached dry land at last, he shook the water off, chased his own tail and stole some food from a nearby house as, for the first time in years, he felt the gnawing of hunger in the pit of his stomach. He savoured all the individual tastes, so unlike the Azkaban food – if it could be called food at all, more like tasteless fuel. Sirius enjoyed the food and tried not to think of what came next, the search for one boy in a million, who could be anywhere, with anyone. He chose instead to dream of the reunion, Harry's instant recognition that he was better off coming to live with him and the blissful coexistence that would follow, with him becoming the nearest thing to a dad that Harry would have. He chose to ignore the fact that he was a wanted criminal and supposed mass murderer, that their life together would be dangerous, forever on the run, forever searching for a rat that they would probably never find. He could worry about that later, for now he would enjoy his freedom.

Harry Potter sat in his cupboard trying to get the spider on the ceiling to play with him, but it was a lost cause. He had been shut in the cupboard for turning his teacher's wig blue, even though he had no idea how it could have happened. It was as bad as the time his hair grew back unexpectedly. He had tried to explain this to the Dursleys and had made the mistake of using the 'M' word, now he was locked in the cupboard for the weekend with no food. He had learnt from bitter experience that it was useless to try and reason with the Dursleys when they locked him in the cupboard, it only resulted in more punishment.

Harry looked around the small space, wondering what else he could do to take his mind of his hunger but found nothing. He wished, as he often did, that someone would come and take him away to a place where he was treated as well as Dudley was, a place where magic did exist and there was nothing the Dursleys could do about it. A place where being normal didn't matter. He wished his parents were still alive, then he would never have had to live with the Dursleys in the first place. He touched his scar, his only memento of his parents, of the car crash that killed them, and found he didn't feel hungry any more. He curled up in the corner and dreamed of a scream, a woman holding him in a way he had never been held before, a strange man and a flash of green light, then nothingness. Harry shivered and pulled his thin quilt around him tighter.

Peter Pettigrew chewed his rat food thoughtfully, it wasn't such a bad life as a rat, he got plenty of food, it was warm and, most of all, it was safe. He was safe from the Ministry who were still under the impression that Sirius was the guilty one. He allowed himself a small moment of self congratulation that he, the 'stupid' one, had fooled everyone, even Dumbledore. He was safe from the Dark Lord's old supporters who must be so angry with him, and he was safe from his old friends and Dumbledore himself. He curled up to go to sleep, idly listening to the talk of his family, who were speaking in hushed voices, when he heard something that shook him to his tiny paws "Sirius Black has escaped from Azkaban," Peter shrank to the corner of his cage, suddenly cold and so very, very afraid. His eyes darted around the room as if he might spot Sirius lurking in the corner. Sirius was the only one who knew he was alive, Sirius was the only one who knew that he was the real spy and Sirius was one of two people who knew his disguise and what was more, could easily identify him, how many times had Sirius witnessed his transformation? Sirius would be furious and bent on revenge, he briefly thought of running away, but decided that it would be better to stay with this wizard family so he would know everything that happened in the world around him. He didn't sleep well that night.

Professor Albus Dumbledore paced his office. Sirius Black had now become the first person to escape from Azkaban, without any obvious outside assistance, which made the feat even more remarkable. He felt a small, dissonant, note of pride at the cleverness of his old pupil and quickly squashed it. Now was not the time, he could wallow in his memories later. The matter in hand now was not how Sirius had escaped, although that was no doubt a fascinating question and one he would meditate on later, but whether Harry Potter, who Sirius would surely target, was safe.

Dumbledore discreetly travelled to the Dursleys and silently checked, that the blood protection still held and Lily's sacrifice still protected her son. Once he was satisfied, he checked on Harry to make sure he was safe. Dumbledore trembled with suppressed rage at the medieval treatment of Harry but was convinced that this was still the safest place for Harry to be. He would have to leave Harry with these people, it was, and he shuddered at the thought, at the unfortunate words, for the greater good. He hoped that Harry might one day forgive him for it and understand that he was trying to do the best for him. He hoped that one day he would not regret leaving Harry here. He hoped that one day he could forgive himself. Dumbledore gazed down at the sleeping boy and longed for the day when Harry would be safely in the walls of Hogwarts, loved and cared for as he should be. He then, as silently as he came in, made his way out again, reluctantly closing the cupboard door behind him. He no longer felt a guilty pride in his old pupil, but anger. It was because of Sirius that James and Lily were dead, because of Sirius that Harry was being raised by people who hated him. It was Sirius who had broken all of their hearts.

Professor Minerva McGonagall waited outside the Headmaster's office for Dumbledore's return. She, like the Headmaster himself, was lost in her thoughts and memories of a certain escaped convict. Sirius Black had been one of her favourite pupils, as troublesome as he was, the other of course being James Potter. She wished she could go back to those days when she had been sure of who was friend and who was foe. She reassured herself that no one could have seen what was to come, even James who had spent practically every moment with him since they were eleven years old. James who he had murdered as surely as if he'd said the curse. Although she had disapproved of much of what the Marauders had got up to, James and Sirius in particular, she had been fond of them and thought they were true Gryffindors and the loyalist of friends. She had, quietly, cheered along with the rest of the school when James and Lily had finally started dating, and she had been so happy when Dumbledore had informed her one evening that Remus' friends had discovered his secret and were determined to remain friends with him whatever the cost. The Marauders she knew would die before betray their friends, what could have possibly changed in such a short space of time? Of course, she knew the answer – one Dark Lord who took over nearly everywhere, and nearly destroyed everything they held dear.

Dumbledore appeared behind her and interrupted her thoughts. "Evening Minerva," he said lightly, "Harry is still safe and should remain so, unless Black has powers that we don't know of. Of course I regret having to leave Harry with those people, but," he shivered, "it is necessary." McGonagall nodded. It was necessary, Sirius Black, damn him, made it necessary.

If they could have seen Sirius Black, supposed mass murderer, at that precise moment, they would have been quite surprised, even shocked. He was currently playing fetch with a couple of local Muggle children, who had adopted this strange stray as their own. Life was good.