To Find the Way Home To Find the Way Home

By: Sailoranime

Dedicated to the memory of our dear Padfoot

Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter series, and I am most definitely not J.K. Rowling, though I do wish I could write as well.

Author's Notes: Well, here I am. Starting a new story. Nevermind that I have a couple of others already in progress. I work better under pressure, anyway. Okay, I'm really hoping to finish 'Blame' by the end of this month. I should be able to, as long as I take out one chapter a week. YESP should only be about 5 chapters long, so I should finish that pretty soon, too. I have the next chapter of FBTV buried somewhere in my computer... It'll show up. But I'll be killing that pretty soon too. Okay, well, notes at the bottom, I guess.

Summary: Harry Potter is a normal boy who has been living with his godfather Matt since his parents died in a car crash when he was a year old. So what happens when a man named Sirius Black shows up claiming to be his real godfather and changes everything?

Remus Lupin looked at the newspaper in his hand, and then at the old man standing in front of his kitchen table.

"So that's it?" he asked quietly. The old man known as Dumbledore nodded.

"I'm afraid the Ministry has lost all hope of finding him. That's why Fudge has officially called off the search."

Lupin set the newspaper down next to his now forgotten coffee mug. "Have you stopped searching?" he spoke so quietly that Dumbledore almost missed his question. He shook his head slowly.

"No. I have not stopped searching. But you have to admit, Remus, it's been four years..."

Lupin nodded. "I know it's been four years, but I suppose one never loses hope..."

Neither of the two men spoke for a couple of minutes. Dumbledore cleared his throat and opened his mouth to speak, but Lupin interrupted. His head had shot up and he looked Dumbledore straight in the eyes.

"What do you think?"

Dumbledore looked taken aback. "Excuse me?"

"What do you think? Do you have any hope at all that he is alive?"

Dumbledore gave a heavy sigh and sat down at one of the chairs. "I believe that if he was indeed taken by Voldemort's side, he is still alive. They are doing a very good job of hiding him. Perhaps now that the search has ended they will let their guard down, and become careless."

Lupin gave small nod. "That's always a possibility, I suppose," he began quietly. He sat there silently for a few seconds before speaking again. His voice was hesitant and he refused to meet the Headmster's eyes. "Do you think... I mean, is it possible that maybe Sirius took Harry?"

Dumbledore shook his head. "If he knew where Harry was, he would have tried to make a deal with the Ministry by now."

Lupin nodded. "Of course." He glanced at his old teacher, and was surprised by the sad expression on his face. "You don't still blame yourself, do you?" he asked with a frown. Dumbledore gave him a sad half-smile.

"Who else there to blame? Young Harry's kidnapping that night was my fault. I failed to protect the Potters and Harry."

"There was no way you could have known." Lupin answered quietly. Dumbledore shook his head.

"No... I suspected that we had a spy among us, of course, but..." he trailed off, and Lupin winced when he realized just how old and tired Dumbledore looked. "Well, It's time for me to leave. I only came to break the news to you first. If you'll excuse me..."

"Of course... Thanks for coming by. Will you let me know if..." he hesitated for a moment, "...if anything comes up?"

Dumbledore nodded and moved towards the fireplace. Lupin didn't bother to go with him. The light in the living room flared a brilliant green, and illuminated the kitchen slightly. Lupin, sure that Dumbledore was gone, picked up his mug and in a surprising show of frustration, threw it against the wall. Slowly, as if nothing had happened, he got up and moved towards the wall, occupying himself with cleaning up the mess.

. . .

. . .

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Sirius Black watched drops of water fall from the ceiling onto his floor. He started counting before long, wondering just how much water fell into his cell on a daily basis.

'One... two... three... four...five.' he counted in his head. Maybe some day, after he'd caught Wormtail the rat, he would put the number of drops he counted into a bucket and see just how much water found its way into his cold cell. As quickly as the thought had come, though, it had gone.

'...Nine... ten...eleven-' his counting was interrupted by voices. Whoever was speaking was rather far away, but he could still hear them. The prison was un-naturally, and quite eerily, quiet that day. The people got closer, and he could hear bits of the conversation.

"...true... called off?" A male voice asked softly

"...afraid so... four years... no choice, no hope." He strained his ears to listen, The second voice sounded very much like Fudge's. Perhaps it was time for one of his inspections. This was, unsurprisingly, the first one that he, Sirius, was actually fully awake for.

"Sad state of affairs... lost... shame." the first voice was saying. Sirius felt the air in his cell get colder as the two speakers came closer, along with the dementors that were probably accompanying them.

"Yes, sad, indeed." the man who was probably Fudge was saying, "Azkaban... I hate it."

'You're preaching to the choir, buddy.' Sirius thought bitterly. It wasn't long before the speakers reached his cell, and Sirius's suspicions were confirmed. Fudge glanced inside the cell briefly, and did a double take when he realized Sirius was awake. His eyes widened slightly, and made to keep moving.

"Good morning, Minister." he managed to choke out raspily. The words had the desired effect. Fudge stopped.

"Sirius Black..." he muttered with disgust. "Still sane?"

"Just barely, I think." Fudge looked at a loss for words.

"There's nothing good about this morning, Black. It's not even morning, it's nearly evening."

Sirius Black shrugged. "My mistake, of course. You can never tell time in here..." Silence followed his statement, and Fudge made to keep going, but Black spoke again.

"How's the outside world?" Black asked, motioning to the newspaper Fudge was nervously holding.

Fudge's desire to run out of the prison having doubled during the conversation, coupled with the knowledge that he must keep going, finally led to him tossing the newspaper in his hand at Black.

"Read for yourself." he muttered in frustration, and kept walking. Black shrugged and lay down on his mattress, using the newspaper as a pillow, and dozed off.

. . .

. . .

Sirius woke up, not sure of how long he'd slept. He closed his eyes, but sleep wouldn't come again. A pity, really, since it was the only thing that passed the time. He sat up and leaned against the wall. The water wasn't dripping into his cell, so he was left without his usual form of entertainment. He wouldn't, however, allow himself to think. Thinking was the worst way to pass the time. He wondered if he could perhaps count the scratches on the wall. He had made some in the beginning, in an attempt to not lose track of time. It had been a waste, however. Many other people had occupied the cell before, he knew. Their scratches were also on the walls, mixing with his to create what was perhaps the most disturbing work of art he had ever seen. That was definitely saying something, considering the family he'd grown up with.

He quickly lost interest in that, however. It hadn't been the first time he'd thought about it, after all. Slowly but surely, depressing thoughts were finding their way into his brain. He contemplated trying to sleep again, but recalled his dreams with a shudder, and decided sleeping wasn't the best thing to do either. He groaned in frustration and slammed his head against the wall.

"Quit it." he muttered to himself. The thoughts seemed to keep coming, however. He slammed his head against the wall again. "Quit it."

He looked around the cell, looking for something to entertain himself, and spotted the newspaper. He bent over and picked it up hesitantly. Did he really want to know what was going on in the outside world? Should he torture himself that way? It took him half a second to answer that.

'Hell, yeah.'

Contemplating that maybe he'd always been a masochist at heart, Sirius Black unrolled the newspaper. He quickly regretted it, though. He almost choked at the picture on the front page. It was a picture of young Harry Potter. The child was standing by a coffee table looking at the camera curiously. He had taken that picture, if his memory was correct. He moved his eyes to the headline, a feeling of dread creeping up on him.

Search for The Boy Who Lived Officially Terminated

His eyes widened in shock. Had something happened to Harry? He moved closer the the cell door in hopes of getting more light to read the article, but quickly resigned himself to straining his eyes. He settled himself into the most comfortable position possible, held up the newspaper closer to the light from the torch outside his cell, and began to read.

It seems that after almost four years of searching for Harry Potter, the Ministry has had enough. The Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, announced only last night that he was officially ending the search for the missing boy. "It's been four years, you know." A very flustered Fudge told reporters, "If we had any hope... What I mean is, we have been looking for him for almost four years, and we haven't found any trace of him. Or anything to suggest that he's even... you know, alive."

Harry Potter, who managed to defeat the most powerful dark wizard this century when he was only a baby, disappeared the same night that his parents died. Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School, had the child picked up from the ruins of the Potter house that same night and delievered to the boy's only surving relatives, his aunt and uncle. They, however, claim to have no knowledge of the child's whereabouts. They insist that he never arrived at their house.

The affair was highly embarassing for the Headmaster, and he has been searching for the boy endlessly since they discovered he was missing. There is nothing for the Minstry to go on. No clues or witnesses. "It's as if the boy just vanished into thin air!" The Minister exclaimed when asked why there had been no result from the search in four years.

There will be a public ceremony held on Halloween in honor of Harry Potter, though the exact time and place has yet to be decided.

Sirius looked at the newspaper, and threw it against one of his cell walls, as if burnt by it. His heart was racing, and he knew the dementors were slowly working their way over to his cell. He had to calm down.

'Calm down,' he thought bitterly, 'how can I calm down?'

It was all Dumbledore's fault. Hagrid had told him that Dumbledore would take care of Harry, so he'd gone off and chased little Peter, thinking Harry was safe. But Harry hadn't been safe. Harry was gone...

He looked up, and noticed there were about thirty or so dementors outside his cell. It looked like all the dementors in the place had sensed his anger and had come to pay him a visit. Without thinking, he jumped to his feet and threw the disgusting substance that was supposed to be his dinner at the dementors. Absently noting that he had hit them in the face, he then finished his act of rebellion by throwing the plate outside his cell and smacking a few of them in the face with the newspaper.

He then threw himself on his mattress, breathing heavily. The dementors were angry, and they were already sucking out the little bit of satisfaction he had gotten out of the whole thing. What was the worse they could do to him, anyway? Other than sitting by his cell for days, and making his life more miserable than usual, they were powerless.

It seemed, however, that the Dementors were not content with that. Sirius's eyes widened as his cell door opened. The dementors grew more excited when one of them lowered its hood and slowly glided towards the open door. Sirius Black was rarely an idiot. He knew what was coming. He looked around, terrified. His eyes fell on the still open door. In a split second, he transformed into a shaggy black dog and ran out the door. The dementors were confused for a second, but they quickly realized what was going on and began to chase after him. That second, however, had made all the difference.

The dementors who hadn't been gathered around his cell sensed he was coming, but he managed to avoid a collision with them by going around them at the last second. He wasn't thinking of it as escaping Azkaban at all, which was perhaps the most ironic thing in the whole situation.

He didn't know how long he'd been running, or how he had managed it, but he made it out of the prison, and ran straight off of the island and into the cold water...

. . .

. . .

Five year old Harry sat at the kitchen table in his footie pyjamas and wrinkled his nose at the eggs in front of him.

"Matt, I think you burnt them." he said, glancing up at the man sitting across from him.

"Make yourself some toast, then." he grunted in response, not even bothering to look up from his newspaper. Harry shrugged and took out 3 pieces of bread. He set two of them in the toaster, and took out the jam and milk from the small fridge in the kitchen and set them down on the table. When the first two slices of toast were finally done, Hary took out a plate and put the two slices on it. He then put the third slice in the toaster and carried the plate to Matt.

Harry always made three slices. Two were for Matt, and one was for him. This morning, however, Matt had woken up earlier than usual and had already made breakfast for both of them. Harry suspected that Matt had tried to make egss for himself and had failed, so he had just given them him, but he wasn't about to say that.

Harry's slice was finally ready, so he quickly picked it up and set it down on the table. He ate his toast silently, as always, so he wouldn't disturb Matt. Matt was Harry's godfather. He'd been living with him for as long as he could remember.

Harry often got the feeling Matt didn't really like him. He treated him okay, but he didn't go out of his way for him. He knew, of course, that he was going out of his way by letting him stay there, as his parents were dead. Ever since he could remember, he'd made Matt breakfast and helped him around the house. As long as he was quiet and stayed out of the way, Matt was happy with him, which meant he wouldn't kick him out.

"That's yesterday's newspaper, Matt." Harry said suddenly, as he recognized the headline. Matt frowned and looked at the date.

"No wonder it seemed familiar. Go get today's newspaper." he said, biting his toast. Harry got up and walked to the living room. That was an odd thing about living with Matt. He always left a strange coin on the couch before going to bed, and the newspaper would always appear there the next morning. It was an odd newspaper, too. It often mentioned stuff about magic or other things that didn't exist. Harry only knew this from the few times he had managed to peek at the headlines, as Matt never wanted to let him see it in detail.

He hurried back to the kitchen, his tiny feet making no noise on the floor. He handed the newspaper to Matt and jumped back up into his chair. He wondered if he would ever be able to get on a chair without having to climb. He had barely taken a bite out of his toast, when he heard Matt slam down the newspaper. He seemed to be turning green, but before Harry could ask if he was okay, he pointed towards the bedrooms.

"Harry... your bedroom... now... close the door!" he managed to choke out before running off to the living room. Harry jumped out of his chair and ran towards his bedroom, not stopping to wonder what was going on.

It was only after he closed the door to his room that he realized he hadn't really eaten. Finally deciding that Matt probably wouldn't say anything if he ran out to get his toast, he slowly opened the door and ran back to the kitchen sliently. He picked up his plate, but stopped at the sound of voices. The first one he recognized as Matt, but he had no idea who the other person was.

"Escaped? How? Why didn't you tell me?"

"It just happened yesterday, Mathew! I had no time. And I can't contact you, you know that!"

"Yes, I know. But you could have sent an owl!"

"I did't know what time it might reach you. The boy-"

"Forget him! What about me? Sirius Black will skin me alive if he finds us!"

"There's no way he'll find you! Black has absolutely no reason to believe the boy is alive."

"Then why break out of Azkaban? They found the newspaper in his cell-"

"Then he probably went after Dumbledore! Besides, we don't know if the article was the reason he broke out."

"Why else would he break out of Azkaban? I still don't undrstand how he did it!"

"No one knows. There was something with the Dementors... they got out of hand and tried to give him the kiss, and he ran out of the place, somehow."

"How come the ferryman didn't see him?"

"It was the midle of the night, Mathew! He wasn't there! Let's just hope he gets caught soon, or our plan goes straight to hell! Do you know what will happen if he finds the boy? Just be careful. I have to go now, don't do anything stupid."

Harry had dropped his toast in surprise, and now quickly bent down to pick it up. He glanced at the living room, wondering who Matt had been talking to. To his great surprise, Matt was the only one in there. He stood by the fireplace, tossing some sort of powder inside the fire.

"Adam! I'm not done with you."

The fire seemed to turn green for a second, but nothing else happened. Matt glared at the fire, and threw one of the little ornaments across the room. Harry quickly straightened up and ran slilently back to his room.

Um... Okay. I can't really think of anything. This is the 'pilot' for my second plot idea. Basically, I've been trying to decide betwen two stories that I want to write, but I'm not sure which one to pick. I definitely like this plot better, but I'm not sure about the pilot. How was it? It's kinda the first time I try to write something with suspense and action/adventure, so I don't know... If you liked this, please let me know, so I can decide, because this choosing stuff is proving to be REALLY hard. (BTW, if you want to help, you can read the intro to the other plot idea and let me know which one you like better. It's called 'Giving In')