Shadowed Serpent
Prologue
Disclaimer: I do not own any characters you recognise in this story. Nor do I own any of the places you recognise. People that have read this story before will notice that this chapter has been repaired. There's no other word for it really, Hopefully it is better now.
Note: This fanfic is dedicated to my wonderful, fantastic, friend Maddy.
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A lone figure sat in his cell at the heart of Azkaban, a small smirk upon his lips. Long midnight, black, hair, caked in dirt and a small amount of blood rested upon his middle back. His figure was not what one would expect from anyone that had spent six long years in a high security cell, in one of the most feared places in the whole of magical Britain.
He was not like most. Most of the inmates resembled nothing more than skeletons with skin stretched over their gaunt pathetic frames. No, he was well fed, lean and relatively healthy.
For the first year he had sat in that thrice dammed cell. Wasting away, lost in depression. It had not taken long however for that depression to lead to anger, then hate. A cold, dead fury resting in his heart. Demanding to be free and to reap bloody vengeance upon those who wronged him.
He had started training as much as one could in a very small cell, he could practice very little magic as his wand had been snapped and his very limited amount of wandless power could only be accessed when he was feeling very strong emotions.
He could however do push ups, sit ups, and any other up he could think of. His stamina was sorely lacking however as he couldn't exactly go running and star jumps could only do so much.
He had also found that dementors spoke parseltongue. It had taken a lot of persuasion on his part to make them help him, and their temporary alliance was shaky at best. He had, had to promise them a hell of a lot to. They had set a few tasks for him to perform for when he escaped. There was no doubt he would escape the question was when. And so, thanks to the cold-hearted daemons, he ate fairly large meals and enough fluid to sustain him.
They even brought him books on magic! Books containing the darkest of dark magic and the purest magic he had ever heard of. Books on necromancy, the power over life and death itself. Nerochanneling, which was the art of ,quite literally, stealing some ones soul and turning it into arcane energy. And the other most interesting one, golemising. This was very interesting
Apparently Azkaban was an old castle, its owner (Count Azkaban) had been a "dark" wizard, was assassinated and had his properties seized all by the ministry. They had not however managed to enter the lower chambers which contained his bedroom, training room, library and a few other non important ones. The count had evidently been a quite determined scholar as he had been given a new book everyday for the past 5 years.
Well originally he had been given a new book every week but he had found a "dark" potion that gave him photographic memory and was able to memorise books very quickly. It did unfortunately come with drawbacks. It was labelled dark for a reason; he had to give a sacrifice, His both his arms up to the elbow. His arms could not be repaired so he had the dementors buy him a prosthetic one. Which although could not compete to the real ones, were pretty dam cool. They was jet black which (as it was magical) could be moved like a real one but with extra strength and blades out the knuckles which could be extracted at a thought (imagine wolverine out of X-men). These were silver. Useful against werewolves, he thought in passing.
The down side obviously was that he would never be able to feel through his hands. They also drained his magic to power them so in the event of magical exhaustion he would lose the ability to extract the claws or use the extra strength.
He had also long ago lost his illusions on light and dark. Labels are not meant for magic or living creatures. A simple first year levitation charm could throw an innocent man off a cliff whilst the 'unforgivable' killing curse could be used to end some ones suffering. Magic was not dark or light it was the intention of the caster.
For example he had used a dark ritual to give himself photographic memory which would help him take down the dark side...and the light side. Hmm. Well never let it be said that six years in Azkaban could ruin a persons humour. Warp it slightly but it was still there non-the less.
He had improved mentally, magically and physically. And he was ready to screw over the world. Avada emerald eyes glowed slightly as he though of the hell they would pay when he was finally 'released'.
Harry Potter would have his vengeance!
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Read and review please! I just want to know if I should bother continuing or not. Do you like it, love it, hate it? Constructive criticism gratefully accepted! Flames are not.