Title: Wishcraft (not a rip-off from the movie. I had the title idea before I ever saw the movie in its resting place at Blockbuster)

Summary: AU- Sirius is suffering in Azkaban & 4 yr. old Harry is suffering at the hands of the Dursley's. Will either of them escape their fate? And what about the Dementors? I can definitely say this idea has probably never been done before.

Disclaimer: I hereby state that J.K. Rowling and the publishers of the books have all rights to the characters and plots in J.K's wonderful books. Only the idea for this story is mine, and I am making absolutely no profit from the writing of this story.

Author's Notes: Please, while I know I don't usually give feedback, and thus do not expect everyone to review, if someone could give me some constructive feedback, that would be wonderful. I don't even care if you are bashing my story, if you do so in a professional manner. As a matter of fact, I welcome it. I haven't written any fiction in over a year. I can feel myself getting rusty. I have no beta, so if there are errors, I'll try to fix them if you let me know. Thank you.

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Shivering. What an odd and most fantastic feeling.

Sirius snorted. The odd and fantastic feeling had nothing against shaking with fear and loathing. That was the one that sent you into a feeling of despair and insanity. That was what the damned dementors brought. It was funny, though, how sometimes if you focused on one though, you could pretend everything else just disappeared. So no, he never shook. He could only shiver...in the cold of Azkaban. And when he wasn't shivering, when he couldn't think that anymore...that was when he could see THEIR accusatory eyes.

It was happening now. He was playing his mind games. He had to if he wanted to remain sane. Only the truth...that was the only true escape...was what kept him grounded. The mind games just reinforced. Perhaps if he changed into Padfoot it wouldn't be so bad, but he would not allow himself that luxury. No, that was only used in the most desperate of times. He failed them....he failed them....he failed Harry....

He crawled into the corner of his cell, shivering....shaking....no...shivering....I failed them...

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CRASH!!!

Harry looked in horror at the shattered remains of the china plate that intermingled with the bacon. He shook with fear as his Uncle Vernon grabbed him by his arms and lifted him to look straight into Uncle Vernon's eyes. Vernon was mad...furious even.

"I'm sorry U-un-uncle Ver-ernon! I d-didn't m-mean to!" Suddenly, he was thrown back to the ground, right on top of the broken plate. The smaller shards broke into his too delicate skin. Harry could hear the little snicker of his older cousin and his Aunt Petunia cringing at the knowledge of having to clean up his blood.

"Sorry? SORRY!?! You good for nothing FREAK! You are nothing but a menace! You can't do anything right! Your aunt and I took you in with the goodness of our hearts, and this is how you repay us!?! Three years you have been in this house, and you have been nothing but a hindrance and expense for us! You should have died with your parents! I'll SHOW you SORRY!" Vernon reached down and grabbed his nephew by the hair, and dragged him to the cupboard, throwing him in.

Harry continued to shake in fear, tears streaming down his face. He watched as his uncle pointed one of his fat fingers at him. He backed up against the wall. "You will remain in here, without food, until I think you have learned the meaning of sorry! You certainly won't be breaking anymore dishes in this house, you little freak!"

The cupboard door slammed shut, and the simple lock slid into place. Why can't I ever do anything right? Why do I have to be a freak? Why can't anyone love me? The tears continued to stream down Harry's face as he drew his legs to his chest. He tried to think back to a time when he was happy, even for a moment...but he couldn't remember. He shifted his miniature frame, only to whimper at the pain. The glass shards were hurting him still, but he couldn't get them out on his own, and there was no one to help him. He started to rock himself to his mantra. I wish I was somewhere else...I wish someone loved me...I wish I was somewhere else...I wish someone loved me...I wish I was somewhere else...I wish someone loved me...I wish I was somewhere else...