Chapter 1
The huge rock looked as though it had just been thrust out of the water. The waves crashed over the spiked rocks that littered the base of the jagged cliff and the sea spray swirled around the island, mingling with the ever present mist. The island itself was riddled with caves and chasms, which were occupied by some of the foulest creatures known to man.
If you looked these creatures up in a reference book, the effects on humans described would be most terrible, but nothing can compare to feeling the effects in person. The books would describe the effects as being as though every happy feeling would be sucked from the air around you. However, in reality, the dementors elicited a gut wrenching, throbbing pain as you are forced to relive your worst memories, dreams and fears, over and over and over again.
And these were the creatures that were chosen to be the guardians of this rock. Why? You may ask yourself. The answer is clear and it lies with the fortress that sits precariously on top of the rock. Its name is Azkaban, the wizard prison. The slime coated stone walls are not enough to confine wizards, so the fortress is sat on an island in the middle of the ocean and guarded by dementors.
If you were to visit Azkaban, it would be highly doubtful that you would be able to leave without it having made an impression upon you. If the chilling effects of the dementors are not enough, then the desperate screams of the prisoners would most definitely haunt your dreams for months afterwards. This is just one of the reasons that people generally do not visit the fortress atop the rock. The other is; why would they want to? The inmates were in there for a reason after all.
It is not a generally known fact, but the wizard prison is divided up into wings, much the same as their muggle counterparts. However it's the high security wing that is the most interesting. The ratio of humans to dementors is moderated elsewhere in the prison; the Ministry of magic had some compassion after all. It would not do if petty thieves were released from Azkaban insane after only a month inside. It would not do at all. The Ministry had no such qualms about the prisoners in the high security wing, so as a result the criminals who were sent there suffered a terrible fate.
The first day was always the worst, screams echoing around the small cell. The prisoner would be insane, and incapable of thinking at all by the end of the week. They would gaze with unseeing eyes, slumped across the room, with bloody scratches adorning their body. If someone chanced to be passing by they may have sworn the prisoner was dead, if it were not for their unmistakeable erratic breathing. They may as well have been right. None lived for long after that.
That is why the singular occupant of the high security wing happens to be so intriguing. He had been there for much longer than the average prisoner. Just over five years, to be exact. Unthinkable, considering the wing's mortality rate! And yet here he was. One would expect that he would at least be as mad as all of the others. However you would be mistaken, if you were of this opinion.
He sat on the low bunk pondering what to do for the day. To look at him you would not know that he was in hell on earth. The only things that could have given it away were the prison robes that he had been given upon reaching the island, and the haunted look that frequently ghosted across his pale features. He himself wondered why he was not insane, and then Black's words came back to him … "I knew I was innocent, and that wasn't a happy thought, so they couldn't take that away from me".
**FLASHBACK**
"Crucio!" Screams filled the deserted house. The speaker was standing next to, what could only be described as, a throne and had his wand levelled at the writhing mass of screams that was on the floor.
Another man stepped from the circle. "Master, merciful master … please! We ...ahhhhh!" The voice was cut off by another curse.
"Silence" the bearer of the wand hissed. "Why have you not brought me the boy? Lucius?"
A man with blonde hair stepped forward and bowed his head. "My lord, we have been watching the house for some days now. The boy is almost impossible to reach, and is guarded by members of the Order constantly." He spoke quickly in order to not anger his master. "We do have a plan ……"
Harry awoke; blinking blearily at his surroundings, automatically groping for his glasses…they weren't there! 'Odd' he thought as he felt them slide on the bridge of his nose, 'why did I go to sleep wearing my glasses?'
"Harry James Potter." A voice cut through sharply. "You are hereby charged with three counts of murder, and two counts of casting the cruciatus curse. What is your plea?"
Harry struggled to wake properly, what was going on? He tried to speak but the words were unintelligible to even his own ears. He heard jumbled mutterings coming from somewhere around him, but didn't get a chance to think on it before –
"Mr. Potter! What is your plea?"
He could barely think straight, all he knew was that whatever was happening wasn't right.
"Not guilty." He finally rasped out. Outraged mutterings and hisses broke put at his words – he only hoped he woke up soon.
The 'trial' passed in a blur, it seemed so surreal. At the time all he could see was the looks of pure hatred that came from Ron and Hermione, his best friends, and the waves of disappointment that came rolling of Dumbledore. Just what had he done??
He didn't figure out what he had been tried for until later, after they had taken him to a cell, ready for a transfer to Azkaban. He had apparently murdered his relatives in cold blood and then proceeded to torture Mrs Weasley and Ginny when they came to take him to the Burrow for the rest of the summer. He couldn't remember a thing after he had had that dream about Voldemort and a plan………he couldn't believe it!! He had been set up.
**END FLASHBACK**
Prisoner 31867, formerly known as Harry James Potter, let out a sigh as he felt the coldness begin seeping into his bones once again. The dementors were making their rounds ...