Happy Holidays and Merry Christmas to all!

I'm pretty excited by my haul this year, did pretty good in the present area. And I got The Idiot by Fyodor Dostoevsky. Makes me happy.

So, I began writing this months ago. I started during the off hours at school when I was doing (quite literally) nothing. And, if you want the summary, here goes nothing:

Voldemort's barely been gone a day, and Sirius Black's in Azkaban. Sirius Black's barely been in Azkaban for a day, and he's escaped. Alright, who's the idiot who forgot to lock the cell door? And what about little Harry Potter?

Quite simply, Sirius Black escapes from Azkaban quite a bit earlier.

"Sirius Black escaped from Azkaban."

Minister Bagnold looked up from the paperwork scattered across her desk slowly, as if unsure of what was just said. The woman stared at the Auror standing in the office doorway with growing horror. "Could you repeat that," she asked, slowly, wanting to make sure that this wasn't what she thought it was.

"Sirius Black escaped from Azkaban sometime last night around 0400 ma'am," the man said, seemingly completely unaware of the state of his crumpled red robes that he had thrown on at probably the same time as Sirius Black had escaped Azkaban.

"And how," the Minister started, "would Sirius Black have been able to escape only several hours after he had been locked away?" She said this slowly, as if daring the man to continue on with this ridiculous farce, knowing that this would more than likely be the end of her political career.

The Auror took seemingly no notice of her tone either, "We're investigating the best we can ma'am," he said quickly, running a hand through his hair tiredly, unaware of the large shadow behind him, "We've already–"

"Get Dawlish!" The Auror, Dawlish, jumped and spun around at the yell. Upon seeing Moody, his superior, the aforementioned shadow that he hadn't noticed, he scrambled out of the Ministers office quickly, his burnt and dirty red robes spiraling out of sight as he scrambled around to the next corridor.

"We've no clues where Blacks goin' next," the old man started off, limping into the Ministers office.

The woman gave an unamused look to the scarred Auror.

Moody ignored it easily. "If we've got to guess, it'd probably be little Harry Potter," he said, setting down into a chair where he could easily see toward the door and window, not that he'd need it really as his bright blue eye was spinning madly in his socket as he settled his other eye on the Minister. "Most Death Eaters would give an arm and a leg to be able to get their hands on him."

"Harry Potter is safe," she said primly, "Albus Dumbledore took charge of the warding, safety, and guardianship of the young Mister Potter. He is under the best wards available to keep people like Black out."

"Might want to check up on him either way," Moody snarled silently, "wouldn't do to have the boy-who-lived kidnapped under our noses."

"He's fine," Bagnold ground out, staring at the man, daring him to continue.

Mad-Eye eyed her for several seconds before deeming it time to continue, "Black escaped due to an Aurors stupidity," he started, taking a form out of his stack, "the idiot forgot to lock the door," he continued as he slid the parchment across the desk to her. The woman opened it up, "that's the form for his immediate release – the idiot stayed up partying a tad too long."

"I want him out of here within the next hour," she said, placing the form down. "If partying over a dead Dark Lord is more important than making sure his followers are in place, we can't have him in the Ministry."

"The fact that he's Potters godfather is going to manage to get out somehow," Moody said comfortably.

Bagnold flinched heavily before sighing. Standing up she snapped at her secretary not to bother her and shut the door heavily. Moody followed up with several silencing charms.

Sitting down, the Minister brought out a small glass of firewhiskey from one of her desk drawers and poured one for herself, and then she glanced up at the Auror, he took out his own drink from his pocket. "Sirius Black still has guardianship over Harry Potter," she said, deciding to get straight into business. If Moody was surprised, he didn't show it. "He didn't have a trial, Crouch wanted Black to be a message to all the other Death Eaters."

Moody snorted, "Crouch's son is in Azkaban now," he said darkly, "if he wanted a message, that would've been it."

"Would've been a message to both sides really."

The Auror took a deep drink from his, what the Minister assumed, was a glass of firewhiskey. "Let me guess," he continued, "since Black wasn't tried and the Potter's will was read, Black wasn't even being held legally by the Ministry, and, as such, the part about the guardianship in the will was magically sealing."

"Making Harry Potter, Sirius Blacks charge." The Minister sighed heavily, "even if he did kidnap Harry Potter, we wouldn't be able to add kidnapping onto his charges legally, and if we tried than we'd have to take the entire thing to court and just get it over with, and then it'd go to show what had happened – and if that happens, than he could sue the Ministry for billions…"

"Or for his freedom," Moody finished, his eye roaming deep within his skull, "he would be able to walk out of here without a single crime to his name."

"Exactly, but if we don't sue for kidnapping–"

"The public would rebel."

Both stared down at each other for several long moments in silence. Bagnold poured herself another drink.

"I expect that Auror should be out soon then," she stated, looking up at the ragged looking man, her tone suggesting that if he wasn't out soon then there will be hell to pay.

"I'll see to it," he said, not standing quite yet as he looked at the woman, "and Potter?"

"We can't do anything more without express permission of the boys guardian."

Moody looked grimly out the window before standing up heavily, "We've want to be sure not be to surprised by Black," he said, turning to walk out of the door, "I taught him myself, the best of the best, that's all I teach." Moody turned and looked at the Minister heavily. "The only person who could probably even have hoped to understand Blacks mind was Potter, and with Potter dead…"

He left it at that as he limped out of the room, taking the silencing wards down with him. He gave the Ministers secretary a long warning look before continuing with his stride, not watching as the Minister settled down into her seat, staring into her glass of firewhiskey, horrified.

This would more than likely be the end of the political realm for the both of them. Probably would go right down there with Barty Crouch Sr.

Moody almost couldn't wait for the ride.

Sirius sneezed.

He really shouldn't have thought that he could have escaped Azkaban without getting sick or something like that.

And wet, he was extremely and incredibly wet.

And he was also wandless, which wouldn't end well, Sirius knew, as they more than less likely had found out that he had managed to escape from his cell, which was further than anyone else had ever managed to get.

Really, they had it coming, that one idiot forgot to lock the cell that he'd – oh so cheerfully – shoved him in.

Sirius didn't even recognize him; then again, he'd barely recognized Hagrid when he'd found Lily and James'….

Their house was much too dirty, they'd always kept it clean, and the roof was falling in, right over Harry's…

He swallowed heavily. Willing himself to transform, he didn't care if he ended up smelling like wet dog. James would've always said that it didn't matter what he did… he'd always smell of wet dog in the end…

And Harry… little Harry…. His little godson… Hagrid had said that he was taking him to his Aunt and Uncles – Petunia if he remembered correctly. Lily had only sent a letter a few months ago talking about how Harry had destroyed the vase that Petunia had given her… how ugly it'd been… how Harry was going to be a Quidditch star was all James could talk about for months…

Up until only a few days ago.

It felt unreal. Everything. He'd only just seen James the other day, hollering about how he bought Harry a toy snitch, and how he was going to be the next Gryffindor Quidditch star and Peter was there laughing along awkwardly…

A surge of hatred rose in his chest, but he pushed it down angrily, lying down onto the sand, covering his snout with his paws…

Did Peter know then, that it would be the last time that he'd see the Potters alive? That James and Lily would die not a day later? That little Harry would be orphaned…? Did he even think that Harry would survive?

He whined, low in his throat. Harry would be safe. He was with his family, his blood family, and Dumbledore more than likely put a hundred and one wards around the home. Anything to keep Death Eaters and Sirius out… He whined again.

He would just check, just to be sure, just to catch a glimpse…

It couldn't hurt to check on his godson, his charge. No one knew about his animagus form except for Remus, Peter, James, Lily, and Harry… no one would know what Harry was talking about, James and Lily were dead, Peter was hiding – no doubt, but Remus… Remus was questionable whether or not he would tell… They had promised but…

He'd just check. He would make sure that Harry was safe, that no one could harm him, that Harry was happy, and then he would move on. He'd hide, he'd find Peter, and he'd make sure that Voldemort could never hurt Harry again.

But first he'd have to make sure that Harry was safe.

With that in mind, he stood up on all four paws, ignoring the heavy, wet fur pulling down on him, and trotted off the beach, feeling each and every grain of sand that managed to get stuffed up his nose.

Padfoot whined once again.

This was going to be a long trip.

Dumbledore repaired the teakettle, watching as each of the pieces pierced together one by one before gently placing back onto the kitchen table.

He turned toward the younger, tawny haired man to find the man staring angrily at the teakettle as if all his problems were its fault and that it should've just stayed broken like his life.

Remus Lupin was a bit off his rocker, but that was understandable seeing as three of his best friends died and another one of them as good as killed all three of them and was now out on the run.

"We've no idea what he wants," Dumbledore said gently, placing the teapot out of the man's reach in case he attempted to throw it once again. It was to be expected at least, the last thing that Remus probably expected to hear when Dumbledore popped in for a visit was that Sirius escaped Azkaban. "We're woefully unprepared and due to Crouch's meddling, everything could landslide in Sirius' lap."

"He could get out of the repercussions of his actions," Remus monotoned… Dumbledore sighed, Remus wouldn't be aware of anything for a few days more than likely; it was a stretch of hope that Remus would be able to help them clearly for a few days time. "You don't think," he saw the werewolf look up slightly, "you don't think he'd go after Harry – do you?"

Dumbledore sighed once again. "It's a possibility," he said slowly, "but the wards I've set up around his home should keep Black away."

"But you can't put any more wards up," he intoned.

"No," Dumbledore replied, "I can't, the ward already put up were continuations of Lily's own wards, which was as much that we could do without Sirius' permission. But that should be enough to keep Black out. If he wants harm to befall the child, then he won't be able to get close to him."

"And if it fails," Remus asked brokenly, "it wouldn't be the first time, if it fails, if Sirius does…"

"We'll make sure that Harry is well protected. Don't you worry."

He'd ask Remus later, once Remus was more aware of himself.

The old man stood up and clasped the werewolf's shoulders. Remus stared down at his kitchen table, opting to ignore the headmaster in a desperate attempt to pretend that none of this ever happened and that he'd wake up only to find the last few days a lie, and James and Lily calling him up to see if he wants to come over for dinner, or to chat excitedly about Harry's new word of the day, or Sirius' stupid excuse to get away from his date, or Wormtail's update on how his mother was feeling…

Remus curled into himself as he heard the floo flare, the green tinted shadows dancing along the kitchen walls as Dumbledore left from his living room fireplace.

He was half tempted to follow, begging Dumbledore to take it all back, pleading with him to make everything right.

Remus just wished that his mind, for once in his life, would go thankfully blank.