Prologue

No stars shone this night, only the moon hung ominously in the dark sky, its feeble silver light shining through the bars of the small window blessing the otherwise pitch black cell with a little bit of light. Moss and dirt collected for centuries clung to the old stone walls. A coldness was emitting from the walls, seeming to freeze the air itself. The bars on the glassless window as well as the cell door made of iron bars were collecting rust. Dirt and dust had been collected for years inside this prison cell. Yes, a prison cell this truly was, which was part of one of the most feared prisons, Azkaban. Some say even death would be a better fate than being sent to Azkaban.

On the cot in the corner of the cell, a person was sitting. A man whose clothes were filthy and in tatters, his skin was pale and he was thin, too thin for his height. His shaggy black hair was filthy and even greasy, his beard unkempt and his face was haggard and thin. His hollow storm-grey eyes were haunted. They were showing pain, so much unbearable pain. His lips, chapped by the cold, were moving silently and were repeating the same words over and over again:

"I am innocent."

Even in his thoughts, only this sentence was allowed to exist, in order to be repeated over and over again. This simple thought kept him sane in this hellhole.

Deep inside his mind there was a place, guarded by lock and key, where happy memories remained safely stored away. Yet, from time to time, one of these memories escaped and intruded his mantra of 'I am innocent'. This was one of these moments, when all of a sudden he was no longer in his gloomy cell but in a small memory of good times.

oOo

Two boys were sitting on a bed, hidden behind crimson curtains. Both of them were known for being laughing and carefree but, at that moment, they both looked silent and serious. One of them had hazel eyes hidden behind round glasses and windswept black hair. The other had storm-grey eyes and shaggy black hair framing his face.

The one wearing glasses opened his mouth and asked in nothing more than a quiet whisper:

"Hey ... what's wrong, mate?"

His voice was calm and soothing. Storm-grey eyes looked into hazel and, in a small voice, so unlike his usual loud cocky self, he answered ;

"James... I am scared.".

He broke eye contact with James and stared at the scarlet bed covers.

James asked in a soft voice: "Of becoming like them?".

He didn't need to elaborate about whom he was talking, they both knew. Still avoiding to look James in the eye, he nodded. James sighed and with a small smile said:

"Sirius, look at me and listen to me closely!".

Even though the word were spoken in a soft tone, they held steely authority in them. James grabbed Sirius by the chin and turned his head towards him, so that storm-grey locked onto hazel once more.

"You are the first Black to be sorted into Gryffindor in a century and the Sorting Hat does not make mistakes. You don't care about blood purity and that bullshit. You protect those your family hates without a second thought. You go against your own family to protect those weaker than you, just like today."

James paused and smiled,

"You are my best friend and I know you better than myself. You are like my brother. No, you are my brother in all but blood. So believe me when I say that you are nothing like them and that you will never be like them. Got it?"

Sirius stared at James for a long time, before looking down in order to hide his misty eyes. He nodded once, which seemed to satisfy James, who broke out into a wide grin.

Sirius looked up and an equally wide grin adjourning his face.

In his normal cocky way he said: "I didn't know you were such a girl mate!"

"Oy, I resent that!" James exclaimed as he grabbed a pillow and promptly threw it at Sirius, who barely managed to dodge it. It flew through the curtains onto the next bed. It hit Remus, who was reading, in the back of his head.

"Pillow fight!" Sirius cried before throwing a pillow at James, who was laughing loudly, his hazel eyes dancing in amusement.'

oOo

A ghost of a smile lingered on his lips. This prison changed him from the boy he once had been. Sirius wanted to cling and drown in this memory of James. He wanted to always remember that carefree, laughing and breathing brother of his. He missed James every moment he breathed; it was like living without a part of himself. They had always been like two sides of the same coin and now he just felt lost without his other half. A cold feeling was slowly starting to crawl into the cell.

"James,"

He allowed himself to feel the name rolling off of his tongue after such a long time. With the name, buried feelings of Love, friendship and brotherhood filled his being but feelings of despair, sadness and guilt rose as well, giving the name a bittersweet feeling.

Tears were starting to roll down his hollow cheeks and barely audibly he whispered: "I am so sorry, Prongs".

Prongs, the nickname they gave James back in fifth year, carrying the meaning of happy days, of freedom and adventure. He could almost hear James whisper his nickname back while laughing 'Padfoot'.

It was starting to get colder and colder in his little cell. The hairs on his neck started to prickle; a sign that his guards were slowly coming closer. He safely locked the memory of a laughing James Potter away inside his mind and restarted his constant murmuring of "I am innocent".

Slowly ice-crystals started to form on the bars and on the walls of his cell, glistering ominously in the moon light. Dread and fear settled in the pit of his stomach. The hooded figure floated past his cell like a ghost and he felt all happiness that the small memory had brought leaving him. He stared defiantly at the dementor before him. A small glimmer of happiness from the memory had remained hidden and now this small glimmer was what the dementor wanted.

A pale boney hand seemed to reach out to him as Pictures, which he wanted to forget, assaulted him.

The moment when James said he was like his family back in fifth year. He had deserved it and James also told him later that he lied, that he was nothing like his family. But the picture of James saying those hurtful words with a cold look in his eyes made him forget everything expect for the hate James seemed to emit towards him in that precise moment. It felt like the ability to breath left him as he stared in those cold hazel eyes.

Another picture of Moony telling him that he had betrayed him, the guilt and pain he had felt at that moment returning full force. His mother screaming at him that he was a worthless Mudblood lover. Her voice filled with hatred telling him that she wished she had never given birth to him.

Yet those were not his worst memories.

The green scull mark illuminating the sky over Godric's Hollow, the name Potter on the mail box as he rushed past it into the destroyed house, his hoarse voice calling for James, Lily and Harry over and over again.

Seeing Lily's Body laying motionless on the floor, the woman he regarded as his sweet little sister, her beautiful red hair fanned around her like a pool of blood. Her eyes open but unseeing.

"Stop-" he managed to get out, while holding his head, tears rolling down his face. The pictures did not stop assaulting him.

A man laying unmoving in the living room. Lanky body, messy black hair and round rimmed broken glasses perched on his nose. Dead hazel eyes staring at him.

Prongs, James, James... Oh God, not James.

No shaking screaming and crying brought him back. He had lost his brother, the feeling of utmost despair spreading through his chest once more.

He could hear James' son crying for his mother and father. He broke down crashing onto the cold stone floor. Holding his knees to his chest rocking back and forward while sobbing his heart out.

The Dementors made him relive his worst memories as they absorbed every small spark of happiness residing in his body and soul.

The dead faces of Lily and James filling his mind as Harry's cry for his mother and father rang in his ears.

His vision was blurry from his tears; blackness slowly spread from the edge of his vision. Barely being able to breathe through his sobs, he welcomed the numbness that the slowly spreading darkness promised.

Suddenly the coldness, the Dementors' eternal companion, left the cell and warmth spread out like a fuzzy blanket. Confused and barely conscious, Sirius lifted his head from his knees and looked towards his cell door.

He fell unconscious, a small whisper left his lips before the darkness claimed him.

"Prongs"

The word hung heavily in the air. Before he hit the ground, someone caught him. Arms were encircling his frail body and a voice whispered

"Padfoot".

oOo

In a night in which neither moon nor stars shone, four boys sat in the middle of their second year dormitory on the floor. Their lit wands were the only source of light in the otherwise dark room. The scarlet and gold room seemed black at this time of the night. All four boys were still wearing their Gryffindor uniforms, all of them carried a look of determination on their faces.

One of them shifted a bit nervously.

"It will be all right, Pete" one of them said while smiling kindly at Peter.

James pulled out a small knife decorated with iron ranks, and in the middle of the blade handle a roaring lion was engraved.

James raised knife and whispered "Upon this blood of mine I solemnly swear to protect this brotherhood of ours till my heart ceases to beat".

Without flinching he cut across the palm of his right hand. Blood crawling out of the cut; the red liquid ominously reflecting their wands light.

Without a word Sirius took the knife from James and whispered: "Upon this blood of mine I solemnly swear to never betray this brotherhood of ours till the day I die"

He cut across his left palm; fascinated by the fact that the blood pouring out of the cut was not black but just as red as James.

He handed the knife over to Remus, who in a quiet voice said his part: "Upon this blood of mine I solemnly swear to love and cherish this brotherhood of ours till the light of life leaves my eyes."

Remus took a deep breath before silently cutting the skin of his right palm. He watched as the blood wet his hand; wondering not for the first time how even a monster like him could bleed. Without looking at Peter, he handed him the knife.

Peter's hands were shaking; he hated pain. He looked at his three friends, who were smiling encouragingly at him.

In a shaky voice he uttered the words: "U-Upon this blood of mine I solemnly swear to keep the secrets of this brotherhood of ours till I draw my last breath."

He screwed his eyes shut; quickly slicing the skin of left hand.

James nodded at him and opened his mouth to utter the words to tie them together forever.

"Upon this blood of ours we solemnly swear to be brothers forever. To love and trust each other, no matter what happens. To forgive each other, to never betray each other, to stand by each other and to always be up to no good!" as they said these words, which seemed to come from one voice instead of four, they put their hands together, exchanging their blood in order to seal the blood oath. As the last words left their mouth, all seriousness seemed to leave them and grins spread across their faces.

oOo

With a loud crash, the tea cup shattered on the kitchen floor. With trembling hands, Remus reread the article :

'Sirius Black escapes Azkaban

In the night of the .93, the mass-murderer Sirius Black managed to escape the wizarding prison Azkaban. The ministry advises all people, magical and non-magical, to be on high alert. The possibility that he may have gotten a hold of a wand is likely. It is not yet determined how he managed to escape the high security prison Azkaban. He is the first person to ever escape the Dementors since Azkaban has been built. Sirius Black is rumored to be You-know-Who's right-hand man and is responsible for the murder of 13 muggles and one wizard, Peter Pettigrew. Even before he was thrown into Azkaban, it was rumored that he was quite mad. He even laughed after he killed all those innocent people. If he was mad before Azkaban, no one knows what Azkaban has done to him and no one knows what he is capable of. The Ministry-'

Remus stopped reading. The Daily Prophet slipped through his shaking fingers and landed on the floor. He collapsed onto the cold floor, holding his head between his shaking hands. He couldn't believe it, the person who had once been like a brother and the one who betrayed him, the one who shattered his once happy world was free again. How dare he reopen these emotional wounds?! How dare he betray Lily and James ?! James?! The one person who had always stood by Sirius' side no matter what, and who called him brother?! Because of him Lily and James were dead. Little Harry had never had the chance to get to know his wonderful parents.

A shudder ran down his back as he thought of the possibility that Sirius might target Harry. He dismissed that thought. Even he would not do that... Right? He no longer knew the answer. In the past he would have said no almost instantly but he would also have said that Sirius would never betray James. Yet, he betrayed James and led him to his death. He even murdered Peter. Clumsy, kind and shy Peter, whom they all thought of as a little brother. He may have not been the brightest one in the bunch and he may have been slightly annoying at times but he was still their brother.

White hot rage was swirling through Remus. If he were to encounter his ex-friend before either the ministry or the Dementors, he could not guarantee that he would be able to hold his wolf back.

The four of them made an oath to be brothers no matter what. It took one to destroy them all. Two were dead, one had betrayed and killed them and he was left behind, broken and all alone. How could he, how could Sirius betray them and kill Peter and all those Muggles in cold blood?! He even laughed! Why did he betray them?! He should have noticed that something was amiss with Sirius.

He let a rueful laugh escape his lips. Oh, the irony, all his youth Sirius fought so hard against becoming like his family, only to become like them in the end.

With quivering hands, he cleaned up the shattered cup. He needed a drink, something strong like Firewhiskey. In the back of his mind a voice whispered that Sirius would have done the same.