Harry lay curled up in a small ball on his cot in the cupboard under the stares. He'd been there since he'd been sent back to the Dursley's immediately following the end of the third task of the Triwizards Tournament. He'd been blamed for Cedric's death, and his wand had been snapped by Minister Fudge, who refused to believe that Voldemort had returned. They'd dropped him off a few hours later, much to the Dursley's disgust. After they'd been informed of his status as a Murderer, an expelled, wandless, murderer at that, he'd gotten the first real beating the Dursley's had dared to give him since his letter arrived and shoved him into his old cupboard.

That was three days ago.

He hadn't seen the light of day since.

He'd given Hedwig to Hermione, before he'd been dragged back to hell.

He'd suspected something like this would happen and had wanted his beloved owl out of harm's way.

His only hope was that his friend's would soon come for him.

But he didn't know how much of a possibility that really was –

Ron had called him a murderer and spat at him when he'd tried to talk to him before he'd been dragged back to his own private version of Azkaban.


He'd lost track of how long he'd been there, trapped in the hell that was his mother's sister's home. His stomach had given up protesting the lack of food, and he was fairly certain that it had been a few days since his last beating. He huddled a bit closer in on himself wondering what day it was, had his birthday already passed?

Was he already fifteen?



Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge made a shocking announcement today, Harry Potter age 14 once the pride of the wizarding world has been sentenced to death. Even more shocking however is the crime. Desperate for further fame and glory, the boy-who-lived murdered fellow Hogwarts student and TriWizard Tournament Champion Cedric Diggory. The boy's feeble excuse pins the crime on long dead, Order of Merlin recipient Peter Pettigrew, at the behalf of he-who-must-not-be-named, who's very downfall came at the hands of Harry himself back in sentence is to be carried out on Saturday at 10 in the morning in the Ministry building, where The-Boy-Who-Murdered is to be pushed through the Vale of souls to his ultimate Judgment. The Minister feels that this shocking sentence is befitting of a boy who once stood as a beacon of goodness and hope despite the fact that this form of punishment went out of use in the early 1800's. The execution is open to for public viewing.

Reta Skeeter


Hermione Granger had never been so frantic in her life. During the school year, she and Harry had started trying to find a way to keep Harry's godfather Sirius Black out of Ministry hands. She'd kept up that desperate search, even after her dear friend had been expelled. Simply adding him to the list of people she had to find safety for.

She had finally found the way to save them both but it might be too little too late. Harry was to be executed tomorrow and her plan couldn't be put into motion for a few days after that deadline had passed.

The solution was simple, if only she could find a way around 2 critical factors.

1 harry needed to be 15 for this to even have a chance of happening and two she needed to find a way to get both Harry and Sirius out of the Country. If she could just get them to America, Wizarding assilum laws would require them to be questioned about their crimes under truth potion before they could be given status as American citizens, safe from British political troubles. The only problem was Sirius was wanted in both the Muggle and Wizarding worlds, and Harry needed to be an emancipated Adult under Brittish law.

Which he couldn't become until he turned 15.

If she could get Harry away from his relatives, and keep him alive until he turned 15. She might have a chance. She just had to get him a passport, and Sirius could make the trip as Padfoot in a plane. The problem would honestly be the first two.

And what if the Ministry told the Muggle Authorities that Harry was a murderer just like they had with Sirius?

What then?

Harry couldn't conveniently turn into a house pet.

She needed Time

Why had she dropped her extra classes?

The Time Turner would have come in handy Right about now.


Harry looked around as he was frog marched into the Ministry by two Aurors in what looked like dragon hide robes. The Ministry building was a ruddy circus, with people lining up to see him executed for his supposed crimes. Somehow the thought of his death, and the fact that for some reason people felt the event would be entertaining didn't affect him the way he thought it should. He was tired and in pain, weak from hunger and dehydration at the hands of his "loving family" and he honestly couldn't bring himself to care. Hermione was standing off to the side sobbing into Fred's arms. She and the Twins had already said their goodbyes. Remus had had to be sedated, his eyes an alarming glowing yellow. Harry was Glad the man didn't have to watch his execution, and was safely away from all of this. He didn't think the werewolf could take what was to come. He was now glad he'd made up his will after his name had come out of the goblet; he'd divided everything he owned between into five equal shares giving 1 fifth to Remus, Fred, George and Hermione. Ordering that the last fifth be given to the Weasley family, at the time he'd been so angry with Ron that he'd left his Firebolt, Not to Ron, but to Ginny. The Maurader's map and invisibility cloak he'd left to Remus (all that was truly left of the man's family), and every book he owned to Hermione.

He held his head high ignoring the Jeering. He was almost halfway to the vale when the sound of an enraged dog snarling and barking drew his attention. The immense black dog looked cleaner then the last time he'd seen him, but he was still too thin. Padfoot fought his way to his side biting and snarling, trying desperately to free him.

"Padfoot, no." he said softly. "They'll hurt you. Go to Hermione boy." He looked up and caught Fried, George and Hermione's eyes. "Take Care of Padfoot for me please he said, as the Aurors shoved him harshly through the Vale.

He felt shocking cold, and he barely recognized the large black shape hurtling after him.

It took him a moment to realize Padfoot had followed him. "No!" he cried soundlessly.

The wind tore his cry away and suddenly he was falling.

Falling from an unimaginable height, the large black dog that was his godfather at his side

Terror gripped him at the sight of the ground rushing up to meet them both, and he screamed unashamed.

There was no way they would survive a fall from this height magic or no magic.

Oh Sirius, why did you have to come with me?


I know this is short but I wanted to get this started. This fic popped into my head and wouldn't leave so I finally gave in and started writing it. Next chapter should be up shortly. Read and review please.