The Dogfather

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, it belongs to JK Rowling.

Chapter 1)

Sirius black sat with his back against the cold, damp wall of his cell in Azkaban prison. His hair, once tamed and attractive, now hangs at his waist, matted and dead. His eyes that once contained such joy and life, now looked haunted and lifeless. His body was far to thin and each breath he drew was a rattling, hollow one. The worst thing, in Sirius' opinion, was that he didn't even have the mercy of insanity, it might not have been so unbearable if he didn't have to think about it. However, Sirius would never go insane like the rest of his inmates, this is because Sirius Black is innocent of his charges and it is that single factor that keeps him sane.

A dark, hooded figure glides past Sirius' cell and he feels the chilly temperature drop to freezing. Memories flood his mind, the look on Remus' face when he thought Sirius had killed his best friends. The lifeless body of James and Harry's terrified wails. It's too much and, with a small pop, Sirius changes into a large black dog. The dementors are easier to deal with in this form, so the large dog is finally able to succumb to a fitful sleep.

~o~O~o~

In a small cottage by the edge of a deep, dark forest, Remus Lupin is pouring himself another mug of tea. He has dark bags under his eyes from his previous transformation into a werewolf. His honey coloured hair is prematurely streaked with grey and his amber eyes are a deep pools that swim with misery. Remus' clothes are tatty and worn and his house is slowly rotting away. He takes a deep breath and slumps onto the sofa in the sitting room, his body aches in protest and he winces at the pain. The transformations had been getting much harder since his friends died. Amber eyes flutter shut to stop the flood of tears that he knew was coming, it had been nine years and he still wasn't over their deaths.

The werewolf took a deep, calming breath and decided to focus on the positives. Harry was alive, he was safe and happy with his relatives. Sirius, the backstabbing murderer, was locked away in Azkaban. Voldemort was dead. The war was over. Yes, there were SOME positives.

~o~O~o~

At number 4, privet drive, little winning, Surrey, a young boy with messy black hair and emerald green eyes was crying softly in his cupboard. Harry Potter had recently turned ten years old and his life was getting considerably worse. His aunt and uncle hated him and his cousin like nothing more than to go 'Harry hunting' with his friends. Tonight, Harry was crying because of the pain in his arms and back and.....well....everywhere else. His uncle had gotten pretty mad when he'd spilt the soup and so, a beating had been his 'punishment'. Harry curled up on his tiny mattress, his body was rocking with sobs and shivers as he cradled his swollen arm to his stomach.

Of course, he doesn't cry loudly, he learnt his lesson before that you mustn't cry and, if you absolutely must, then you must cry quietly. Eventually, Harry slips into a pleasant dream. He dreams about a big black dog and a wolf, they take him away from his horrible family and he lives with them in the forest, happy and loved.

~o~O~o~

Remus was just about to make his way to bed, when he heard a loud bang and someone cursing in his back garden. With a small frown upon his tired face and his wand at the ready, the werewolf slowly makes his way towards the back door. What he sees when he opens the door, is enough to make his heart stop beating in his chest. Standing in his back garden is a man he long thought dead, Peter Pettigrew.

The small, plump, rat-like man stared up at his old friend with wide eyes. "R-Remus" he stuttered "I d-didn't know you l-lived here" Peter couldn't believe his bad luck, Lucius had spotted him and hadn't been angry, like he'd expected. Instead, the blonde haired man had asked him to do a mission for the remaining death eaters. He was supposed to go to the cottage in the woods, kill the inhabitants and raise the dark mark. Lucius had said that it was to keep the ministry in fear, but now, Pettigrew begrudgingly admitted that he'd been tricked and his only way out was to act.