Here's a short fanfic that I wrote on Sirius's escape from Azkaban from his perspective. Hope you enjoy!
From the Perspective of Sirius Black
July 24, 1993
In the darkest, deepest, most depressing section of Azkaban, Sirius Black paced back and forth on the filthy gray floor of his cell. The rattling breath of forty dementors echoed around him, making the prison feel even gloomier than it already was. Sighing, Sirius sat down on the ugly straw mattress that was supposed to be his bed. Honestly, you couldn’t even call this a bed, he thought. There were loose bits of straw sticking out at odd angles all around the mattress and it was itchy and lumpy. Well, it was better than nothing, and nothing was the only alternative.
In Azkaban, every day was a nightmare. The same, boring food, the same, boring cell, the same dull moans of the other prisoners around him as they fought endlessly against the pain and suffering that the dementors brought everywhere with them. As Sirius sat on his lousy excuse for a bed, he closed his eyes and concentrated on one thought: I am innocent. I am innocent. I am innocent…
Several minutes passed like this, focusing on this one thought, until a different sound brought him back to his senses. Sirius looked up, unsure what to expect, and came face to face with the Minister of Magic.
"H-hello, Black!" said Fudge, a bit nervously.
"Er- hello. I don't mean to be rude, sir, but why are you here?" Sirius answered, looking surprised.
"On an inspection of Azkaban, nothing of big importance. Just thought I'd come see how you're doing. Horrible, those dementors, aren't they? Don't know how you stand it..."
Sirius shrugged. "Have you finished with your newspaper, sir? It's been years since I last read one. Miss doing the crossword. Funny, how they never seem to run out of ways to stump you."
Fudge looked bewildered for a moment, then glanced down at the newspaper he clutched absentmindedly in one hand. "Oh yes, the Prophet. Take it, I daresay you'll be needing something to keep you busy… But alas, I must be off. Plenty to do, you know... can't be here all day..." With that, he slipped the Daily Prophet in between the bars of the prison cell and was off.
Sirius flipped through the Daily Prophet, looking for something to catch his eye. Something about a famous witch's birthday party, a few ads on love potions, the Quidditch scores for a recent match… He turned the page, uninterested. MINISTRY OF MAGIC EMPLOYEE SCOOPS GRAND PRIZE, read the next headline. Boring. Underneath the article was a picture showing a large family with seven kids and a fat rat with a missing toe.
A fat rat with a missing toe…
Sirius stood up suddenly. No… it couldn't be… He looked at the black-and-white image again. But it had to be. He was sure of it. After all, how many times had he seen him transform? Breathing very quickly, Sirius turned back to the article and read it through carefully. The family in the picture were the Weasleys, a name that sounded vaguely familiar to him. And their children would be attending Hogwarts… but of course… where Harry was.
A wave of red-hot anger rushed through Sirius's veins as he crumpled up the newspaper into a tight ball and flung it forcefully into a corner of his cell. The traitor. The cowardly traitor. I trusted you, Peter Pettigrew. I trusted you. He said the last words out loud, spitting out the rat's name like it were poison.
It was because of him that Sirius was now stuck here, whiling away the hours in a gloomy cell in Azkaban. It was because of him that two of his best friends were dead, their house blown to pieces by the wizard who had cast the curse that ended their lives. And it was because of him that their son would grow up without the love and support of his parents, isolated from the wizarding world with no knowledge of the life he could've had.
It was because of these things that Sirius swore to himself, under his breath, that he would get revenge even if it was the last thing he ever did.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------
July 30, 1993
He's at Hogwarts… he's at Hogwarts…
The rat with the missing toe haunted his dreams. Plotting to kill the last of the Potters, poking out his whiskery snout in the hopes of news of his master, bowing before Voldemort. The fateful day twelve years ago replayed itself again and again in his mind, as clear as ever.
And Sirius could bear it no longer.
Later that night, he sat, waiting, in the form of a shaggy black dog. Counting down the minutes until he could escape. He felt the emotions draining from his surroundings as a dementor opened the door, bearing a tray of soggy, flavorless food… Sirius slipped out, through the bars, and ran. He didn't slow down until he reached the entrance, and he didn’t look back.
His legs shaking slightly, Sirius walked through the doors to the prison. It was his first time seeing daylight in twelve years. They had been the worst twelve years of his life.
After allowing himself a few breaths of fresh air, Sirius leapt from the jagged rock surrounding the prison into the icy water below.
Hogwarts, here I come.
