I don't own Harry Potter.

Warnings: Language, AU, Character AU, Human! Dumbledore, Logical, Abused, Young! Harry, Godfather! Remus, Abusive! Dursleys, and umm... I'll probably add/change more later.

Pairings: None as of yet.

Summary: "Hey, Moony?" Prongs whispered, his lips curved in a small, contented smile. "Would you be godfather?"

A Two Arrowed Sign

Look both ways before crossing the street. You never know when you may fall and weep. There is no right or wrong, but what is human and what should remain unsung.

Chapter 8

July 2nd, 1989

Azkaban Prison

Sirius Black was cold. That wasn't really new though, he was always cold now. It wasn't just a temperature thing, more like a bone-aching chill that had yet to retreat since he had been shoved in this sinfully small cell, forced by the god-awful creatures lurking behind every corner and popping out of every shadow to relieve his worst moments. Sometimes it was the shock and utter horror, consumed with grief at finding the dead bodies of his best friend's on the floor in their once lively home in Godric's Hallow. Other times, it was reliving the seconds of different battles he had participated in, as an Auror and a member of the Order of the Phoenix, watching many of his friends and co-workers fall to their deaths by the hands of white masks. But no matter what memory it was, it hurt enough that the dementors got their sadistic pleasure. Transforming only helped so much; even his dog mind could feel the cold and the despair. Nothing seemed to make it go away. It – even with the knowledge of his innocence and that his best friend's son was alive and hopefully happy – was a cruel, constant and unwavering pain. He hoped Remus had Harry – that the happy child was taken care of and loved. But that hope didn't stop the guilt curling around in his gut, the knowing voice inside of his head that told him he should never have gone after Peter, whether he was a traitorous rat or not. He should have stayed with Harry, stayed with Remus. They needed him. What was he accomplishing being shoved inside this painfully tiny cell, being tortured by his own mind?

Footsteps echoed down the hallway leading to him, the noise sounding loudly to his seemingly cotton filled ears. He had gotten used to the screams of the other prisoners – mostly those of his cousin, Bellatrix, but footsteps were unusual. He transformed quickly, knowing if whoever that person was found out about his ability, he was a dead man. A flame of hope sparked in his heart as the footsteps stopped only inches away from his cell door. It was too dark to see who it was. Could they have finally found his innocence? Or perhaps they were finally going to give him the trail he rightfully deserved? Lights shined accusingly in his face, making his eyes water and try fruitlessly to adjust to the brightness that he hadn't seen since he had been shoved into this small hellhole. How long had it been? Time meant nothing in Azkaban – minutes, hours, days, months, years, all faded into one never ending existing.

"Sirius Black?" The figure questioned and Sirius squinted, making out brown hair and the purple edging of Auror robes.

"Yes." He rasped, his throat painfully dry and his voice cracked with unused roughness.

The man stepped forward and slid a heavy iron key into the chains wrapped around his wrists, connecting him to the wall of his small cell. "Black, you're being taken in for questioning."

The flame in his heart burst into a full exploding fire.

The man seized him the arms and placed a pair of handcuffs around his thin, weak wrists. He could feel them tingle as they made contact with his fragile skin. Magic resistant, he remembered, having cuffed many Death Eaters in identical binds. He fought down the urge to giggle, for he never would have guessed that someday, some other Auror would be clasping those very handcuffs around his wrists, all with the insane idea that he was Voldemort's right hand man. Didn't any pay attention to the fact that he was bloody disowned from the Black family because he was too Gryffindorish and unwilling to accept the dark mark, least of all murder for Voldemort's twisted ideals of pureblood supremacy?

The man shoved him down the dark corridor, the light of his wand only allowing them to see a pale few feet in front of them. The Auror's grip on Sirius wasn't cruel, but it wasn't kind either. His long, dirty hair swayed as they walked and Sirius wished he could shove it back – or rip it out of his scalp as he thought of doing many times. All his life, his hair had fallen neatly to just brush his shoulder, tucked easily behind his left ear and the swinging freely on the right side. It was little things like that – the ability to cut his hair or brush his teeth to rid himself of the crusty film over his mouth and the sour taste. You didn't get showers in Azkaban – sometimes Sirius would sit in his cell and imagine with unfulfilled longing. Sometimes the human guards would hit you with a freshening charm or a low-level cleaning charm because you were stinking too much or perhaps had gotten sick all over yourself, but that was rare.

He was jerked into a small door, where warmth burst upon him like a fire when you had hyperthermia. It was warm and filled him to his soul, glowing into him. Sirius didn't even have to make out the silvery animal to know what it was. Someone's Patronus. The man shoved him down into a chair and proceeded to attach the cuffs around his wrists to a set of heavy chains that were connected to the table, which was probably stuck to the stones below it with a permanent sticking charm. He could feel amusement welling inside of him, leaving a shock voice screaming in his head. He could bloody well feel amused if he wanted to! He turned wide eyes to the beautiful Patronus circling the room, being more grateful for the spell that he had anything else in his life.

"Here he is, Madam." The man said gruffly, turning to the other person in the room. Sirius looked up at her, recalling her face from the years before his imprisonment. She looked a little older; there was some gray touching her red hair and a few more frown lines spread across her face.

"Ms. Bones." He felt his lips curling at the edges against his will, looking at his once boss with a feeling of joy he had missed out on for who-knows how many years he had been stuck in this hell.

"Black." She responded coldly, a folder of papers stuck under her arm. She glared at him in indifference, her face stony. Sirius' smile faded, but his joy remained untouched. Even if this wasn't what he was hoping for, he'd enjoy the wonderful effects of the Patronus while he could.

"What are your thoughts on this?" She asked, surprising him by tossing one of the papers in the folder under her arm onto the table he was chained to. He leaned over, unable to move his wrist, to squint at the paper.

BOY-WHO-LIVED KIDNAPPED BY YOU-KNOW-WHO SUPPORTERS?

June 30th, 1989

It was reported on June 29th that Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, went missing from his Muggle relatives' home... There is a current investigation being done by the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, heavily funded by Minister Fudge... "It is irrevocably important that we find Mr. Potter and..." says the Minister. Many families agree that... "The Boy-Who-Lived should have never been sent to live with Muggles! I told Anne that, yes I did! Fools, all of them!" said an unnamed source... This reporter is wishing good luck to the Ministry and hopes we find our saviour soon!

Sirius' throat clinched in panic, skimming the article in the dusky light. Harry was kidnapped? Harry, his best friend's little boy, with the innocent green eyes and mischievous smile?

"Mr. Black!" Bones said harshly, drawing his attention back to the small integration room and the presences in it with him.

"What are you even doing HERE?" He bellowed at her. "Shouldn't you be out searching for Harry?" His voice broke, tears welled in his eyes. He needed to get out of Azkaban – he needed to help. James and Lily would never forgive him.

Madam Bones look stunned. "I suspected you'd be delighted at this turn of events, Black." Her lips curled slightly and the malice in her eyes was unmistakable. Sirius knew very well she always tried to keep an indifferent face to her prisoners, but it seemed his reputation was too much for her.

He gave a bitter laugh. "Harry's all I got left! I would never ever want anything to hurt him!" His words broke off, a choked sob logged in his throat. "I swore to James when Harry was born that I'd protect him with my life – we all did." whispered Sirius, softly and painfully, before he turned bitter once again. "Of course, the rat would go and do whatever it took to save his own hide! We should have realised – I should have realised..."

Bones' eyes narrowed, watching Sirius with rapped attention, who ignored her and continued to mumbling. "I told them to switch...all my fault...poor Harry..."

"Mr. Black!" Bones barked sharply, hoping to break him from his trance. He had tears streaming down his dirty face and his eyes were hallow. Azkaban did that to people, she knew. Was that it? Was he just as mad as the rest? But he had known her when he first saw her – his eyes had been clear and hopeful, as much as she hated to admit it, before she had showed him the paper. She felt her heart squeeze in her chest, remembering the brilliant Auror whom she had commanded during the war. He held a record for the many Death Eaters he had brought in. The young man in her memories was sharp, cheeky, and protective of innocents – he would never hurt someone who didn't deserve it. He was also unbelievably close to James Potter, his partner. They had worked together in a way she had never seen two of hers do before. They seemed to read each other's minds – knowing exactly where the other was and what he was about to do. In fact, the man before her had taken so many curses for James Potter that it was remarkable he was still alive.

It didn't make sense. It had never made sense to her. Why would he do it?

She pulled opened the folder under her arm again, shuffling through the paperwork and ignoring the young Auror's eyes on her. She looked for his trial transcripts, but they weren't there. In fact, his folder was almost bare. A document stating the snapping of his wand, the paper assigning him to Azkaban Prison for life, a few witness reports on the murders of the twelve muggles and Peter Pettigrew, and the testimony of a few people on the Potters saying themselves that Sirius would be their Secret Keeper before going into hiding – but no information on his trial.

How odd.

It had been insane at the Ministry, she recalled, when Sirius Black had been brought in. There were so many Death Eater attacks, oblivaters were running around like chickens, and everyone had been in a frenzy with the glorious news of You-Know-Who's defeat. Perhaps the trial information had just been misplaced?

Or, her mind was spinning furiously; maybe he had never gotten a trial. After all, it wasn't like James Potter to just announce to the world who their Secret Keeper was, especially when the protection of his wife and son were involved. He was much too sneaky to ever offhandedly mention such an important piece of information that could destroy their very lives. And Black had lived by the rule of "never harm innocents" during his Auror days. In fact, he had told her once that it was the only thing keeping him sane sometimes, knowing that he wasn't like them – "I can kill as many Death Eaters as I can, but I will never harm someone who's innocent. That would make me just as bad as them, and I could never ever live with that."

"Give me the Verataserum, Jenkins." Bones demanded, holding out her hand. He gave her a curious look before fumbling with his robes, finally pulling out a little bottle with a clear, colourless liquid inside. She unscrewed the top and, before Sirius could even ask what she was doing, she tilted his head back and opened his mouth, allowing three tiny drops of the liquid to touch his tongue. The affect was instant; Sirius' eyes glazed over and he stared unseeingly at her. Knowing the truth serum works best with direct questions, she began.

"What is your name?"

"Sirius Orion Black."

"What is your blood status?"

"Pureblood."

"What is your birth date?"

"December 1, 1959."

"What are your parents' names?"

"Orion and Walburga Black."

"What is your brother's name?"

"James Potter."

Interesting, Amelia Bones thought, staring at his dirty, emotionless face and unfocused eyes.

"Who was the Potters' Secret Keeper?"

"Peter Pettigrew."

There was a muffled gasp from beside her, but she paid no notice.

"How did Peter Pettigrew come to be chosen as the Potters' Secret Keeper?"

"No one would suspect Peter."

"Why did everyone believe you were the Potters' Secret Keeper?"

"We needed everyone to believe that so that Peter would be safe."

Just like the Auror Potter she knew.

"Did you betray the Potters' to Voldemort?"

"No."

"Are you a Death Eater?"

"No."

"Are you anyway a supporter of Voldemort, You-Know-Who, or He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?"

"No."

"Did you know of Pettigrew's change in alliance?"

"No."

"Did you kill Pettigrew and twelve Muggles?"

"No."

Deep breaths. Bones could feel the young Auror watching with rapid attention.

"Is it true that you blew up Peter Pettigrew and twelve Muggles?"

"No."

"Who did?"

"Peter."

"What exactly happened?"

"I confronted Peter, but before I could say one word, he was shouting about how I betrayed James and Lily. He then cut of his finger and blew up the street, transforming and going down into the sewers."

"Transforming into what?"

"A rat."

"Pettigrew was an Animagus?"

"Yes."

"How do you know that he is?"

"The three of us did it together – in third year."

Bones shook her head, bemused. Three third years were able to find their Animagus forms and transform?

"Three?"

"James, Peter, and me."

"Why?"

"So that we could spend to full moon with Moony."

"Moony?"

"Remus Lupin."

Of course those stupid Marauders would do that.

"Why does the Ministry not have this information?"

"We agreed to keep them unregistered."

"Why? That would get you six months in Azkaban."

"It was war. We wanted to have something up our sleeves."

It was so hard to believe. This man had been in Azkaban for almost eight years, completely innocent, because no one had given him a trial. One of her best Aurors had been condemned to rot him this place. Guilt curled in her stomach. She should have checked up on it – she shouldn't have let her feelings of betrayal get in the way. She should have made bloody sure that Sirius Black was guilty before brushing it off. After everything she knew of the man, the exceptional Auror he had been, the opinions he never had trouble voicing... It was a damn good story too. No one would have ever suspected, she knew. But he was telling the truth. There was no way he could have lied under Verataserum after being in Azkaban for years. She stared at this haunted, broken man – a completely different person from the immaculate, cheeky black-haired Auror that always got under her skin. She promised herself, right now, that she would never let what happened to Sirius Black, happen to anyone ever again. She would do her job, no matter personal feelings or what the hell was happening at the time. Sirius didn't deserve this.

Nodding to herself, she turned to the other man in the room. "Let's get him to the Ministry." Bones waved her wand, stunning him easily and allowed the Auror to levitate his body in front of them. "He'll need a healer."

And definitely a shower.