Story: THE DAILY PROPHET

Summary: Harry Potter was sent to Azkaban charged with murder. The murder of Cedric Diggory. He was, of course, innocent. That was five years ago, and today he's to be released...would you like to read the Daily Prophet's shocking headlines?

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of his characters.

Hope you enjoy it!

Hum...english is my second language, so please point out the errors so I can correct them.

THE DAILY PROPHET

Yesterday the Wizarding World last scandal shook the Wizengamot.

After the polemic trial just five years ago, The-Boy-Who-Lived sentence had come to an end and an official hearing was being held in an open session at the Wizengamot.

We talked to Hermione Granger, one of Potter's well-known friends, just before the guards from Azkaban arrived. "We are going to give him another opportunity to do the right thing. Forgive and forget, they say, and it may be possible to do at least one of those if Harry returns to his place."

Mr. Potter walked into the room where the session was going to be held, one dementor on each side. He had to be held at times as he dozed off while he walked to the platform on which he would sit. His robes clung loosely onto him, worn out and battered, and through the holes dirty pallid skin and extremely thin arms and legs could be seen. He looked like a small walking skeleton, and it was difficult to believe that he had just celebrated his 19th birthday just two days ago. Behind long wild mud-covered hair haunted green eyes gazed at the crowd.

Chained to the chair, looking lost and starved, and flanked by the ghost-like guards, it seemed impossible to think that he had committed such a crime.

He stood there, quiet and still, unresponsive, as the Wizengamot interrogated the dementors and finally declared him free. Only then did he talk, just as the Wizengamot –and this devoted reporter- started to fear for his mental state.

'Have I fulfilled my whole sentence?' he asked, his voice even and void of any emotion.

'Yes.' answered warily one of the eldest members of the council, Tiberius Ogden.

'Am I in any kind of debt with either the Wizarding Judicial System or the Wizarding Law?'

'No, Harry, my boy, you are free.' answered with a kind smile Albus Dumbledore, self-proclaimed leader of the Light and Headmaster of Hogwarts.

With a surprisingly strong and confident voice the Boy-Who-Lived muttered "Very well…" and with a slight smirk on his lips he waved his hand. As he did so the shackles of his chair opened with a "crack" similar to the one produced by apparition. He then stood and waved at himself in an elegant movement that seemed impossible from such a malnourished body. His appearance changed drastically in the blink of an eye; from the lost beaten boy emerged a tall fit man with long shiny black hair tied in a neat ponytail and broad shoulders that spoke of coolness and authority. His skin was pale but clean, his tattered robe transformed into a silky and luxurious black robe that clung slightly open, revealing the muggle clothing he wore. He seemed comfortable and decided in the tight black leather pants and dark green shirt, and there was something about him, like some kind of aura, that told you didn't want to mess up with him.

There was the powerful man everybody had been talking about but hadn't yet seen, standing proudly on the stage.

Without acknowledging the Wizengamot, he turned to the dementor that accompanied him and bowed vaguely in their direction, dismissing the scary creatures back to Azkaban.

Albus Dumbledore had quite clearly not gotten the "don't mess up with me" sensation or had chosen to ignore it, as he stepped to the front of the auror's files and asked in a grave voice:

'Harry, what is going on?'

'Oh, just a little show of shorts' he answered, dismissing him with a careless wave of his hand. 'Just to show you how fucked up you are' he continued in a light tone of voice. After casting a rather powerful sonorous charm on himself, he waved to the crowd.' Ok, so I'm going to tell you just a pair of things I thought wile in my cell. ' he then winked charmingly at the reporters section of the public, and I have to say this reporter's heart skipped a beat.-Be sure to catch this! Uhum, so, first thing: I'm innocent, at least of the murder you seem convinced was my doing. I know most wizards are slow –no surprises here- but, fuck, muggle police caught the culprits 'bout four years ago. So, a big 'Hurray' for our Judicial System!' he cheered, mockingly raising a fist in the air.' Now, second thing, I'm fed up. The Wizarding World in general and it's society in particular are shit, and I for one resign. I think that was all. Oh, and lets not forget my fantastic good bye biding; 'go fuck yourselves and good luck with Voldemort!''

With enthusiasm he waved goodbye and took off the sonorous spell. As he came down from the platform he had been standing on, Dumbledore –that man can be really dense sometimes!- grabbed his arm to stop him.

'Harry you can't go! You are a wizard, this is your world too.' as the boy shrugged Dumbledore seemed to think that he needed better arguments if he wanted to convince him, and finding none he tried to hold him back anyway' Are you going to let your parent's murderer run free destroying the world that took you out of your filthy hole and showed you what you are capable of?'

'Hell, yeah.' he said, satisfaction clear in his voice.

The people in the courtroom seemed to freeze. Nobody could believe what he had just said. We all know what Dumbledore had been talking about, the whole thing about the Dursleys and their abuse, which he himself had made public. As he unkindly brought this sensitive matter up, this reporter couldn't help but wonder why Dumbledore has not yet had to face a trial because of his admitted evolvement in Harry's childhood settings.

'What? You're shocked to find that I chose the man who killed my parents -and tried unsuccessfully to do the same to me for years- and who asks from me nothing more than to let him be, rather than those who betrayed me, those who sent me to prison when I was fourteen even knowing how greatly dementors affected me and those that without evidence condemned me, and ask from me to fight, suffer, kill and even die for them? I'm sorry to say the decision didn't take long. You've been pushing crap onto me for too long and, guess what? It's over.'

'But Harry, you can't trust Voldemort!' yelled Dumbledore in a desperate attempt to convince him. 'This is probably one of his plots to kill you!'

'Don't be stupid, Dumbles.' he snorted, tapping softly his scar with an accusing finger. 'I can see Voldemort's mind, remember?'

At last one of the members of the Wizengamot regained the ability to speak. (It took them long, don't you think? Further information on Wizengamot's ineptitude, page 9.) Raising her voice slightly, Madam Bones stopped further intervention by the esteemed Headmaster.

'But Mr. Potter, are you really going to let Him kill millions of innocents just because you were condemned for murder?'

'I thought I had already explained that.' he said, rolling his eyes in exasperation. 'But let me do it again and hope this time it penetrates that thick skull of yours. I was fourteen. That same month I had taken an unwilling part on Voldemort's rebirth, miraculously escaped death –once again- and I had been attacked by a death eater in disguise, who was posing as mi Defense teacher. I had been tossed once more to my muggle relatives' house anyway, and it was my freaking birthday. So, trying to put some joy into my somehow obscured soul I went to a muggle bar and tried to relax a bit. And when I came back, before I could even mutter a word, I was taken to fucking Azkaban without a trial. It took the guards three bloody hours to drag me to a cell, I was shaking so badly. I could hear my mother's screams as the green light of the killing curse rushed towards her. So, in retaliation, do you know where they put me? In the fucking cell of a well-known pedophile and child-killer werewolf. When they came to fetch my rests they were so surprised to see me alive and whole that they stared at me awestruck for fifteen minutes straight before moving me to another cell, further into the Dementor's own building. And you left me in that hell's pit for five fucking years! Even Voldemort offered to free me when he saw where I was.' he laughed bitterly. 'And now you ask for my help? Not bloody likely. Those who I deemed worthy of it have already been taken care of. For all I mind, you lot could go and drink hemlock. So, before I have to cut this speech down, as I have something else to do, if my friends of the press would catch this?' we nodded eagerly, avid to know the fine man's opinion of this whole mess. 'Great. Some words to the wizarding world. Please refrain from using them as shirt legends…the official ones are sold in Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes.' you may find this outstanding shop in number 93 Diagon Alley; the shirt's price is 15 sticles each. For more information on this subject, page 14. '"You are doomed, and you know it", "Fucked with Potter, now you're fucked", and my favourite, "Go fuck yourselves". Oh, and a little piece of advice: do not oppose Voldemort too actively, be careful with what you do and say, and even more so with what you teach your children, and they may be spared.' just as he pronounced the last words he apparated away through the anti-apparition wards.

Didn't I tell you, dear readers, that he was innocent, five long years ago? That we shouldn't let him rot in Azkaban? But I was then silenced by our Government. Today, nobody will stop the harsh truth from being told.

When our Government is so ready to jump to conclusions, condemn people without a trial and make such mistakes without recognizing them in the least, a witch has no option but to distrust it.

Your loyal reporter, I leave you to keep on with the intense search of the truth, to bring it out and into your homes despite every difficulty.

Yours Faithfully,

Rita Skeeter, from the Daily Prophet

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