A/N: Hello! So, I wondered what would've happened if he'd gone to Dumbledore and professed his innocence and told them about Peter instead of going all crazy stalker when he broke out of Azkaban. Here's what my day dreams have come up with. Day dreaming about Sirius is not a hardship, by the way.
For the record: Gary Oldman, as awesome as he is, is FAR too old to play Sirius Black. I'm not sure who the dude is in the photo I used for the fic (nor do I own the pic) but that's the closest I've been able to get as how I see Sirius in my head. Very nice.

Hope you enjoy!

First thing I remember was askin' Papa, "Why?"
For there were many things I didn't know
And Daddy always smiled, took me by the hand
Sayin', "Someday you'll understand"

Well, I'm here to tell you now each and every mother's son
You better learn it fast, you better learn it young
'Cause 'Someday' never comes

Well, time and tears went by and I collected dust
For there were many things I didn't know
When Daddy went away, he said,
"Try to be a man And someday you'll understand"

Well, I'm here to tell you now each and every mother's son
You better learn it fast, you better learn it
young 'Cause 'Someday' never comes.

Sirius Black sat with his back pressed into the corner of his cell, not feeling the steady drip of cold slimy water down his back. He was far too used to the horrors of Azkaban to notice something as trivial as the discomfort of cold water. He'd given up thought of comfort ages ago; now it was a daily, hourly, moment by moment struggle to simply maintain his sanity. He'd been in his human form for several hours already and was desperate to shift back to Padfoot, but he'd heard a rumor that there was some sort of inspection going on today. If he fell asleep as Padfoot and someone happened to walk past his cell and see a great black dog where a prisoner should be… the only defense he had against the dementors would be taken from him. He'd just grit his teeth and fight against the images and screams trying to force their way to the forefront of his mind. If he let himself, he could easily see James' and Lily's house, blown to bits. He could easily see James' glassy eyes staring up at him through broken glasses. It took no trouble to remember hearing Harry's cries from the ruined nursery and rushing upstairs to his godson… to recall stepping over Lily's body and scooping up the screaming toddler. Before he realized it, his throat was aching at the memory of being forced to hand the baby over to Hagrid on Dumbledore's command. Merlin, all he could hear was Harry screaming; he could even feel his tiny fingers clutching at him.

He shook his head and pulled brutally his hair to force his mind back to the present. "Fucking dementors." He muttered under his breath, not for the first time. He stood and forced himself to walk around his miniscule cell, stretching legs that protested the damp cold and being curled up in the corner for so long. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been truly warm.

On his second turn around the tiny space the moans and cries down the cellblock changed their tone and seemed… relieved? What the hell was going on? He'd grown so used to hearing the ghastly noises of his fellow inmates that he hardly noticed the sounds of madness anymore. These sounds were still mad; they just lacked the anguished tone they usually held. He stepped to the front of the cell and leaned against the bars, his forearms resting against the horizontal bar as he pressed his cheek to the cold metal trying to see down the hallway. Then he felt it: a Patronus. He took the deepest breath of his life as he felt the despair lift; he felt like he stood three full inches taller… the feeling was indescribable. "Sweet Mary and Joseph," he breathed quietly, relishing in the first pleasant sensation he'd felt in a decade. He cocked a hip and rested his forehead against the bars, nearly weak with relief and quietly breathing in, quickly searching his mind for happy memories… he knew he'd only have a few moments before the Patronus had moved on; then the happy ones would be out of reach. Since Harry had already been in his mind, he thought of him and pulled all but forgotten memories of Harry's birth, his first Christmas, his bright eyes and lively laugh. His face nearly broke into a smile, remembering a day that he, Prongs, and Harry had been left unsupervised when Lily'd spent a day out shopping. They had turned the house into a disaster but they'd had fun. They'd worn that kid out like never before and he'd fallen asleep face-planted in his mashed potatoes that evening. He felt a grin work across his face but stifled it at the sound of approaching footsteps and voices. He quickly adopted the face he'd worn best until he was thrown unceremoniously into prison: arrogant disinterest. He was nearly amazed at how easy the façade was to slip back into. Old habits die hard, even if he'd been in his godforsaken hell hole for a third of his life.

He listened as he heard a man speaking, addressing a companion as 'Minister'. Well, well. It looked like the Minister for Magic was slumming today. The small collection of wizards drew level with his cell and the minister, carrying a ridiculous hat, did a double take at his casual posture.

"Welcome to our humble abode, Minister." He said cheekily, gesturing to the cells with a broad sweep of his arm. Stifling a smirk at the man's astounded expression- bloody fucking hell the Patronus was amazing, he felt high as a kite. Sirius' eyes flicked down to take in the rest of the man's attire. Pinstriped cloak? Really? Then his eyes landed on the paper. "Say, you aren't done with the Prophet are you?" The man, Sirius thought his name was Fudge… he'd heard that name tossed around by wizard guards on their weekly rounds, glanced down at the paper and raised it slowly, looking extremely confused that an inmate was even speaking to him, much less asking for his paper. "Sure do miss those crosswords…" Sirius held out his hand through the bars and the Minister slowly pressed the paper into it. "Appreciate it, Minister."

"Certainly…. Black." The minister stared at him for another few seconds and slowly walked away. Sirius had only another moment before the light, literal and figurative, of the Patronus as it faded around the corner. Feeling the happiness draining rapidly he sighed and lowered himself to his pathetic excuse of a mattress. Perhaps the paper would be interesting enough to distract him for a little while, he hadn't read one since he'd been in here. Perhaps it would be safe to be Padfoot now, which would also make things much easier. Could he turn pages with paws instead of hands? Why the hell not, he hadn't had a challenge in a while. Laying the paper flat he listened closely for a moment and heard nothing but the usual sounds of the prison. When he was satisfied that the 'inspection' party had passed, he focused on his transformation. With the momentary relief that the Patronus provided still slightly lingering, it came more quickly than usual. In a fleeting burst of discomfort and pain he shifted forms and was Padfoot. Instantly the oppressive aura of the dementors lessened and he felt his emotions level out, being a dog was so much easier, warmer too. He probably spent seventy percent of his time as Padfoot. He heaved a doggy sigh and lowered himself to the blankets, folding all four legs underneath him. He focused on the paper, noting the date. Fucking hell… he'd been in here for twelve years. Twelve fucking years. He'd thought it had only been around ten, it was hard to know though, it wasn't like they let him have a girly calendar like he'd like. Before he could contemplate further, his attention was captured by a family of redheads posing in front of the great pyramids. All that red hair must be Weasleys. Sure enough, there stood Arthur Weasley, looking a bit pudgier and with less hair than the last time he'd seen him. Merlin, it looked like he and Molly had an entire Quidditch team's worth of offspring- something else caught his eyes on what looked like the youngest boy's shoulder. In an instant he'd switched back to his human form and held the paper so close that his nose brushed its surface.

No… it couldn't be. He struggled to focus on the paper quivering in his trembling hands. Four toes. The rat had four toes on that front paw. It was him. Had to be. Peter fucking Pettigrew. He was the pet of one of the Weasley kids! He quickly scanned the article and discovered that the boy was the youngest son and was the same age as Harry. If young Ronald followed in his parents footsteps he was surely a Gryffindor… Harry was a Gryffindor; he'd heard that several times over the last couple years. Oh fucking hell, the rat would be sleeping in Harry's dorm. He clenched his jaw to stop the furious scream bursting out of his throat. That fucking traitor was on holiday in Egypt while he was rotting away in prison! He was on holiday and come September, he'd be at Hogwarts with Harry! His fury and fear resolved an idea that had danced around the edges of his consciousness for the last couple of years. He was getting out of here. He'd get out of here or he'd die trying.

A/N: This is a bit of a short intro... the future chapters will be much longer, I promise. Hope y'all like it. :)

The lyrics above are Credence Clearwater Revival, by the way.