A/N: This is for the October Monthly Challenge. Theme Challenge: Faith In Dark Places

Disclaimer: I don't own anything related to Harry Potter. Everything belongs to J.K. Rowling.


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It was only when he set foot in the place did he realise just how much trouble he was in. He had been involved in many things before this ... little things, compared to this one. He had flown his motorbike in Muggle areas, shown off his magical abilities to Muggle girls, trying to impress them. The Ministry weren't too happy about it. He had a bad record. Maybe that was why he wasn't given a trial.

They led him to his cell. It was cold; positively freezing. But even then, he was sweating. The Dementors were on either side of him, each of them gripping his wrists with their cold, slimy claws. Sirius wouldn't call them hands. They only barely resembled hands.

The cell door opened. The inside was dark, dank and had a musty smell. The smell of something which hasn't seen sunlight for a very long time. Sirius gazed around the cell, his heart thumping wildly against his ribcage. The cell door clanged shut behind him. But even then, he could feel the presence of the Dementors, just beyond the door.

He didn't dare turn around. He took a few steps forward, staring at the empty walls around him. There was a small bench in the corner, and a tiny rag. He picked it up and studied the scrap of cloth, and realised that it was a blanket. Despair washed over him. He was to live here? For the rest of his life?

He sat on the bench, gazing at nothing. So this was it. After so many near misses and threats from the Ministry, he was in Azkaban. But for once, it wasn't his fault. He could see Wormtail standing before him now. A small, watery-eyed boy, always tagging after James, Remus and him at Hogwarts. The average schoolboy, yearning to be accepted.

Sirius's hands clenched themselves into fists. Suddenly, a wail broke out from far away ... the sound echoed through the prison, causing many others to start wailing as well. The sound sent chills up and down Sirius's spine. He felt cold, and alone. But he had had so many good times ...

The moment he thought this, his mind came to a halt. He couldn't remember. He racked his brains, trying to remember at least one good thing that had happened in his life. But try as he might, he couldn't remember. The only memores that came up was seeing James and Lily's home ... destroyed, reduced to a pile of rubble ... and their bodies. Cold, their eyes glassy and wide open, staring at the night sky. Never again would he see those eyes ...

Remus's face swam in his memory. A tired face, of a man who had gone through more than anyone else would know. They - being Sirius and the Potters - had been cold towards him. There had been a possibility of him being the traitor. The man who had backstabbed his best friends.

His heart felt like breaking. He saw the Muggle street that Wormtail had blown apart. The contents of the sewer all over the road, Muggles screaming, bodies lying everywhere. And Wormtail. Just for one brief moment, he saw the triumphant look on his face, just before he transformed. Before he saw a rat disappear into the drain, and before the Ministry came along.

Sirius had been laughing. A bitter laugh, remembering all the times Wormtail had screwed up ... that one incident being the first time he had actually done something properly. But it was all for the wrong reasons.

Without thinking, he transformed himself into his dog-form. He threw back his head and howled. He was answered by the shrieks of fear from his prison-mates.

It isn't fair. I'm innocent. I shouldn't be in here.

He transformed back into a man, and there were tears in his eyes. He looked at the Dementors standing guard outside his cell. Floating, more like. They weren't touching the ground, instead floating eerily, a few inches away from the ground. His rebellious side took over. In desperation, he ran towards the door, and grabbed the bars with his cold, white hands. He shook them, not realising that he was yelling.

The Dementors turned around, and seemed to stare at him through their hoods. As a teenager, Sirius had always wondered what was under the cloaks. But he wasn't planning on finding out. He let go of the bars, stepped back hastily and fell onto the ground. Like everything else in the place, it was cold, and damp. That was how he felt inside. Cold, and empty. Again, he tried to remember the times he had had at Hogwarts, with the rest of the Marauders. And again, all that came up were the terrible memories.

It only made him feel worse.

He imagined that the Dementors were probably laughing at him. He's weakening, they were saying. Soon, he'll be like all the others in here ... he'll be ours.

Sirius realised that he was panting with the effort of trying to remember. His mind was spinning. His eyes were open, but he couldn't see. It was like he had blacked out the world. He shook his head, and with a great difficulty, he got up on all fours.

Struggling, he dragged himself to the farthest corner away from the Dementors. He crouched there, the sad excuse for a blanket wrapped around his shoulders. He stopped trying to remember. All he thought off was the one fact that he was innocent. He wasn't a traitor. He wasn't meant to be here. It was all a mistake.

The despairing voices of other criminals filled his ears. But there was a difference. They were responsible for their crimes. They deserved to be here.

Sirius had always wanted to be different. And now, as he grasped onto the very last strands of that one fact, he knew that once again, he was different from the others.

'I'm innocent,' he whispered.