Disclaimer: Alas that these evil days will always be mine that I don't own
anything but the crappy plot line *cries*
Summary: What if Sirius never chased after Peter, never went to Azkaban, was proved innocent and Peter Pettigrew went to Azkaban instead? But what if Sirius doesn't even remember what his own name is and what if he doesn't want to? What will it take to force Sirius out of his 6-year-long depression?
Chapter One - Nameless Faces
The boy in the cupboard under the stairs tossed in his sleep.
Faces peered down at him. He could see a man with glasses, black hair and hazel eyes, a woman who had flaming red hair and bright green eyes.
Another man appeared above him. He had wild black hair, and crystal blue eyes. He smiled down out him and shook his little fist. "Nice to meet you".
Another man, this time with sandy hair and hazel eyes, smiled wearily.
An old man with a long silver beard and piercing blue eyes twinkled merrily down at him.
A huge man, with wild, bushy hair and beard chuckled as the boy played with his toes.
All of a sudden, their smiling faces disappeared. A short man with colourless hair, a pointed nose, and watery black eyes stared down at the boy.
He could hear screaming in the background. An evil, high-pitched cackle of laughter cut through the air and there was a flash of bright green light.
7-year-old Harry Potter, of 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, shot up in his bed, rubbing the burning scar on his forehead, in the shape of a lightning bolt.
Harry had had this dream before, but had no clue as to what it meant, or why it kept coming back.
He thought that the woman and the man that he saw first was his mother and father, and although the others looked familiar to him, he didn't know who they were. Harry thought that these people were even being nice to him. Nobody was ever like that.
He sighed and lowered himself back onto the bed. Rolling over onto his side, Harry quickly fell asleep.
When Harry opened his eyes, he was in a dark, dank room, with bars for one of the walls. In the far corner, a man was curled up into a ball, sobbing into his hands. "I'm sorry," he was crying into the night, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry - its m-my fault -dead - no - can't - I'm sorry - want to die."
Harry tried to make his way over towards the pitiful man, but he was tugged away by an invisible force, leaving the sobbing man behind
Summary: What if Sirius never chased after Peter, never went to Azkaban, was proved innocent and Peter Pettigrew went to Azkaban instead? But what if Sirius doesn't even remember what his own name is and what if he doesn't want to? What will it take to force Sirius out of his 6-year-long depression?
Chapter One - Nameless Faces
The boy in the cupboard under the stairs tossed in his sleep.
Faces peered down at him. He could see a man with glasses, black hair and hazel eyes, a woman who had flaming red hair and bright green eyes.
Another man appeared above him. He had wild black hair, and crystal blue eyes. He smiled down out him and shook his little fist. "Nice to meet you".
Another man, this time with sandy hair and hazel eyes, smiled wearily.
An old man with a long silver beard and piercing blue eyes twinkled merrily down at him.
A huge man, with wild, bushy hair and beard chuckled as the boy played with his toes.
All of a sudden, their smiling faces disappeared. A short man with colourless hair, a pointed nose, and watery black eyes stared down at the boy.
He could hear screaming in the background. An evil, high-pitched cackle of laughter cut through the air and there was a flash of bright green light.
7-year-old Harry Potter, of 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, shot up in his bed, rubbing the burning scar on his forehead, in the shape of a lightning bolt.
Harry had had this dream before, but had no clue as to what it meant, or why it kept coming back.
He thought that the woman and the man that he saw first was his mother and father, and although the others looked familiar to him, he didn't know who they were. Harry thought that these people were even being nice to him. Nobody was ever like that.
He sighed and lowered himself back onto the bed. Rolling over onto his side, Harry quickly fell asleep.
When Harry opened his eyes, he was in a dark, dank room, with bars for one of the walls. In the far corner, a man was curled up into a ball, sobbing into his hands. "I'm sorry," he was crying into the night, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry - its m-my fault -dead - no - can't - I'm sorry - want to die."
Harry tried to make his way over towards the pitiful man, but he was tugged away by an invisible force, leaving the sobbing man behind