It was that time of the year when Cornelius fudge would be bombarded with letters addressed to him requiring his presence in his annual Azkaban check up. It really wasn't worth it. The dementors just gave him the creeps and all the prisoners were total psychos. Cornelius flicked through the Daily Prophet once more before slipping his arms into his suit and picking out his most unflattering hat and shoved it jauntily upon his head. Taking a deep breath, he took a handful of floo powder from a pot on his desk, stepped into the fireplace and threw the powder whilst saying "Azkaban," and vanished.

Cornelius stepped out of the fireplace at the other end and brushed the soot from his clothes.

"Ah, Minister, at last! I thought you weren't coming for a second," said the familiar voice of one of the guards cheerfully. Cornelius distinctly remembered him from his previous visit as Sam. He always did seem too young and cheerful to be working in such a horrible environment. The man looked to be in his early to mid twenties. Sam was a cheerful man who wasn't that tall, but certainly taller than Fudge. He had straw coloured hair and dark blue eyes and wore baggy clothes which hung limply off his shoulders.

"I did say I would come, so shall we get this over with?" Cornelius demanded. Sam grinned widely, revealing a row of yellow teeth. Fudge tried to swallow down the bile. He followed Sam up a flight of stairs to the first row of cells.

"As you may remember, this cell is empty at the moment due to us realising that Stan Shunpike was under the imperious curse… poor kid," Fudge nodded mutely, remembering how damaged the man had been when he had been freed of all charges. But he hadn't gone insane like most of the others had; it was probably with the knowledge that he was innocent when he had been caught.

"And here," Sam continued, opening a cell, "is Dolohov," the man inside the cells positively glared unblinking at the minister before baring all his teeth and making the sound of a rabid dog, before flinging himself across the door towards Cornelius and Sam but was stopped by the chain which still wrapped around his wrist. He hissed in anger as Cornelius and Sam backed out of the cell.

"He doesn't seem to be coping too well," Fudge muttered, still staring at the closed cell door. Sam nodded in agreement

"I suppose none of them do, but they deserve what they got, I reckon," Cornelius didn't reply to that. He had always thought that Azkaban was probably the worst thing you could do to a man. But then again, people only ended up in one of the cells if they had committed an unforgiveable curse or something similar to it.

Sam led Cornelius around to each cell for inspection whilst commenting upon the prisoners and how the dementors had "corrupted their lively spirit," or how Sam had put it. The prisoners were all completely insane and it seemed that they had lost all sense of sanity. The witch named Bellatrix was the worst. She had started screaming the second her cell had been opened and she thrashed against the chains binding her. It was horrific.

Sam then pushed the door shut and climbed the last of the stairs with Cornelius wordlessly following.

"This is the last cell in here and the most secure," he informed the minister, "but Sirius Black doesn't seem too bothered by the dementors that much," his voice had dropped to barely a whisper. "I don't want to go nowhere near that monster, so I'll leave you to it, Minister. I'll be at the end of the stairs," Sam then scuttled off, retreating into the shadows.

Fudge stared at his retreating figure. Sam had managed to keep an emotionless visage when looking into the eyes of the other deranged prisoners. What was so different about this one? The minister had thought that the man had nerves of steel, but if he couldn't even open the door… Fudge didn't even want to think about what was waiting for him on the other side.

Hands shaking, he reached up and shoved the key into the lock and turned until he heard a small click. He then pushed the door open and peered inside. A man was sitting against one of the walls, his tatty clothes draped across his bony figure. Cornelius stepped inside and shuffled nearer to the prisoner. Sirius Black then turned his head to look at Fudge.

Fudge gasped slightly. The man's skin was stretched so tightly across his face it looked painful, purple circles visible under his eyes. His skin was sickly pale and his lips were drained of colour, but his eyes were alive. They had a light, a gleam which Fudge had not seen in the other prisoners. Black took in the minister's appearance critically and his eyes fixed upon the Daily Prophet.

"Is that recent?" the man rasped. He voice was rough and scratchy, but calm nevertheless. Fudge nodded, slightly surprised that the man was not at the point of insanity like the others had been. It seemed that he was stronger than them… or just completely emotionless. Either way it was keeping him sane.

"Can I read it?" Fudge was yet again shocked at how at ease Black seemed to be, "I get bored doing nothing at times. And I miss doing the crosswords," he added as if it had been an afterthought.

"Of course," Fudge muttered, passing the paper over. Black raised a skinny arm and his fingers closed tightly around the paper. His finger nails were yellow and the bones all stuck out. His eyes then quickly flicked across the title. There was a short silence before Black realized that the minister was still in the room.

"You're Cornelius Fudge, minister of magic," said Black tonelessly, glancing at a picture of him on the front cover, "why are you here?" he demanded

"I come and visit every year," he replied. Black frowned

"Is it that time already?" he asked. Fudge felt a twinge of pity for the man, but then reminded himself that he had killed half a dozen muggles and his former best friend

"I'm afraid so," Fudge replied.

"Another year had already passed," he murmured, half to himself, "And you still haven't learned that those hats you wear just make you look even more ridiculous than you already are," Fudge snorted at the double insult

"You're hardly one to talk," he replied. Black smirked at the minister

"I don't wear hats… and if I wasn't here, then I'd be wearing decent clothes," Fudge glared

"Well that's your own fault you're here, Mr. Black," he retorted. Sirius looked down and Fudge was surprised to see sadness in the man's face and also another emotion. Was it… regret?! That couldn't be right; no one simply regrets killing people if they were murderers.

"You didn't give me a fair trial," Black accused, anger evident in his voice. Fudge was about to argue but Black held up a hand to stop him, "I never betrayed Lily and James and I am no death eater, but I suppose it is my fault that they're dead," he looked away again. Was it just Fudge or did it seem as though Black was about the cry?

"Say you didn't betray them… which you obviously did… but say you didn't, how did you-know-who… find them? You were their secret keeper," Fudge demanded. He was honestly interested in what lie Black had managed to cook up in the years he had been cooped up in cell with no one apart from the dementors for company.

"As if you would believe me if I told you the truth," Black muttered darkly dragging his knees into chest, taking up barely any room. "You can go now," his voice was barely more than a whisper. Fudge began to shuffle back towards the door again but was stopped by Black speaking again

"I know you think that I'm a merciless killer, but I am innocent. I would have died before I betrayed James and Lily. But I will find their son and he will learn the truth. That is a promise."