SUMMARY: "COMPLETE! A Daedric artefact helps Harry escape from Azkaban prison. Revenge, love, vindication, and chaos result, not necessarily in that order. Bashing, dark!Harry. x-over with 'Sunshine (2007)' and TES5: Skyrim"

DISCLAIMER: Any recognizable characters, places, or devices are copyright to their respective creators. I'm just playing in their sandbox.

CONTENT WARNING (The only place I will post this, so do pay attention): This story will likely contain violence, coarse language, character death, and mature subject matter. There will be major spoilers from most of the Harry Potter books, the movie "Sunshine" (2007), and minor spoilers from The Elder Scrolls universe. Unsure of either of these? Google is your friend. And, if you don't like spoilers, you probably should not continue reading. This story is not for Dumbledore fans, or Ginny fans. You have been warned.

Posted March 26, 2012.

Edited April 19, 2012, reason: Updated opening to include Harry's notice in the Daily Prophet.
Edited July 26, 2012, reason: changed introduction.

1. A WAY OUT

January 19, 2001

The storm came as a whisper, really. The occasional person would let out an indignant shriek or shout, as they opened up that morning's copy of the Daily Prophet, the major Wizarding newspaper in Britain. Curiosity ensured the news spread, and long before the Ministry itself was open for the day's business, a throng of people had gathered at its doors. No, it had been some time since the average citizens living in the magical community had been stirred up in this manner. The source of the anger and panic?

That morning's Daily Prophet carried a single large moving picture of their saviour, the Boy-who-lived, looking grave and frigid. Sure, the public had seen enough pictures of Harry Potter, but this one—it was different. The headline above it spoke volumes: 'HARRY POTTER: I QUIT' Most didn't make it to the meat of the article, simply going into panic at those few words on the front page. In the article itself, Harry certainly had loads to say about the state of things, and his place in the war—or in this case, the lack thereof.

Dear readers,

I resign. I withdraw. I'm cashing in my chips and cutting my losses. Two days ago, I sent an owl to Lord Voldemort, saying exactly that. And now I tell you the same. I hope you're all happy, because quite honestly, I won't raise a finger against him.

In my short life, I believe I have experienced far more than an old man might ever encounter through his entire life. I have faced down death at least six times, and count myself very lucky to still be among the living. Most of those incidents directly involved Lord Voldemort and his followers. I believe I could have defeated him. However, as I have already said in the opening, I will not. I have made the decision that this is not my fight.

Now, you might all be wondering, why did I come to such a decision? Voldemort did murder my parents, after all, did he not? I agree, yes, he did kill my parents. However, they were soldiers. They were fighting in a war, knowing the ultimate cost. I know they wait for me when I at last meet my fate, such as we all do. I also know that, no matter what sort of decision I make, they will be proud of me, and will not fault me.

I still have not answered your question, though. The honest answer? Rather than support me, help me out, train me, and provide me with the tools that would help me achieve what my so-called destiny had planned for me, you instead called me a liar, an attention seeker, a head case, and ultimately, a murderer. You wanted a Savior and a martyr, not a leader. Now, you have none of those.

My advice to all of you. Voldemort is YOUR problem. He is the embodiment of your old prejudices and laws, all of which need to die a painful, horrible death. Things must change before things will ever get better. Change is a terrifying thing, but it is the only constant. Wizarding Britain, however, has resisted that constant, and now stagnates. Do you wish for your culture, your society to die out? That is what is coming, should you allow things to remain as they are.

Want things to change? Then stand up for yourselves. Each of you are armed with a deadly weapon. Stand up to tyranny, stand up to those who resist the change, bring Britain back out of the dark ages. Tell Voldemort and his Death Eaters he can't get away with doing the things they do. Tell the antiquated Wizengamot you want to see real change. This is your responsibility. Not mine.

I close with this simple thought. "You're either part of the solution, or you're part of the problem." Good luck, Britain. You're gonna need it.

Harry Potter

July 3, 1995

Wizengamot Chambers, Ministry of Magic

"Very well," Fudge leered from his lectern overseeing the chamber, "Having been found guilty of the charges of using an unforgivable, and the murder of Mr. Dennis Creevey, Mr. Potter, I sentence you to Azkaban prison, for the remainder of your natural life. Aurors. Take him away." The slamming of the gavel on the lectern came as a gunshot, as Aurors moved to take him away. His futile resistance was met with several strong stunning spells, and he was carried out of the chamber in the bliss of darkness.

June 18, 2000

Azkaban Prison

Four years. It had been four years, if Harry's barely sane mind remembered correctly. Four years since everything had gone to hell in a hand-basket. At a time when he believed nothing could get any worse, they had, in the most spectacular way.

Perhaps it had been because of his grief over the loss of Sirius, that he was trapped as he was. Grief-stricken, he'd not even put up a fight, as he was hauled away by the Aurors. He certainly remembered the trial which followed, but not the trip to the Wizarding prison. They'd had to stun him after the verdict was handed out, along with the punishment: the rest of his natural life in Azkaban.

Now, his home consisted of a six-by-eight cell, along with the Dementors which visited him all hours of the day, forcing him to remember his worst nightmares. He'd stopped screaming only weeks after his incarceration began, and now barely moved.

An individual can do some truly amazing things during dark times, for it is said, desperate times call for desperate measures. It was over those first few weeks at the tender mercies of the Dementors, that he was able to somewhat retreat into the depths of his mind. There, he was protected from the brunt of the attacks, and it was there he was able to retain his sanity for this long. Sure, he certainly still felt the Dementors when they were around, but nothing like at the beginning. It was in this state, therefore, he bide his time, knowing all too well, the old fool would eventually come for him. After all, it was up to HIM and him alone, to deal with the Dark Lord.

Harry let out a hollow laugh. What fools they all were! Days after the revelation of the prophecy, they haul him off to Azkaban, charged and convicted of the murder of Dennis Creevey. Exactly what cheap Muggle drugs were they all smoking, anyway?

He was able to escape the Dementors, that had become old hat rather quickly. Escaping the visions from Voldemort, and the horrible nightmares that came with it, on the other hand... that was absolutely impossible. Every night, he was treated to a front row seat, forced to watch the work of a madman. If it was any consolation, he had learned who was truly responsible for Dennis' death: a polyjuiced Belletrix Lestrange. Of course it made sense in the end. The pair had gotten rather close during the battle at the Department of Mysteries. Who's to say she didn't recover one of his hairs?

The more frightening part of the equation, however, was the fact yet another Death Eater had been allowed into the school. The barmy old headmaster had obviously not learned anything from the last time such a thing had happened—Professor Snape excluded.

His list of allies at this point had shrunken dramatically. Many witnesses had been called during his trial, including everyone in his year. Neville had been charged with contempt, for refusing to make any comments on the stand. Given his family's position and standing, the charges were rather quickly withdrawn. Ron, meanwhile, had been rather frank. So had Hermione, for that matter. It was a betrayal of the worst sort.

Luna had been questioned as well, but she had simply prattled on about her invisible creatures and other outlandish things. The Wizengamot had declared her testimony null and void immediately after, and Harry had to smile to himself, if only briefly. He knew Luna's behaviour was an act, and that was all. There was a brilliantly intelligent mind in there. It was just hidden by a thick wall of her own making.

Ginny had been questioned, and like her brother, she also had lots to say about Harry. And to think, before everything went pear-shaped, he was starting to fancy the youngest Weasley. If Harry ever left Azkaban, he would have more than a few choice words to say to her. None of them would come in the shape of forgiveness. That went for the lot of them. Unless there were extenuating circumstances, such as the Imperius curse or something. Then, and only then, might he remotely consider forgiving them.

Naturally, Professor McGonagall was also a staunch supporter, and although she testified, she refused to believe he was capable of such a heinous act. Like the others who supported him, her testimony was declared null and void.

Professor Snape actually surprised him. The man had certainly had more than a few scathing comments as far as Harry was concerned, however, when bluntly asked whether Harry were capable of the crime he was charged with, Snape surprisingly answered in the negative. The professor gained a new level of respect from the condemned, but it was for nought. There were only a few others who had similar comments, and with the character testimony, the Wizengamot easily won a conviction.

There were a number of visitors over the years. Dumbledore made weekly visits, although Harry did not know why. Perhaps it was to reflect on how badly things had gone. Or maybe it was just to see if his little weapon was still of use. One of Harry's biggest wishes, was to somehow dose the barmy headmaster with Veritaserum, and see what sort of secrets he would spill while under its influence. Harry was very much aware of where he stood with the old man at this point: a weapon to be brought out, used, then shoved back in his cubby hole after he was finished. This realization came to him about a year after he began his sentence, and it in some ways still stung. He'd seen the man as a grandfather in many ways. Now that image lay shattered in a million pieces, and in its place, an individual he despised almost as much as Voldemort.

Fred and George visited about once a month. Both had been questioned by the Wizengamot, and both were adamant of Harry's innocence. Naturally, their testimony had also been declared null and void, citing bias. During their visits, the pair would try and cheer Harry up, get him to respond in some way. Harry hated putting on an act, but he had to remain consistent—and if he ever got away from the hell-hole Azkaban was, he would most certainly reward them well. No, not all the Weasleys had let him down.

Other characters had visited him as well, including several from Voldemort's camp. They offered him a way out, should he 'come over to the winning side'. 'If that was ever gonna happen,' Harry snorted in his head, 'What, me join the monster who killed my parents? That would sully their memory for starters!' He gave them no answer, only a blank stare. It was that behaviour which everyone saw. By the end of the first month, it was all but confirmed the boy-who-lived had lost his mind.

That brings us forward to this particular late spring day in June, just after sunrise. The boy in question, now very much a man, was startled to find a few items sitting on the floor of his cell, along with a folded parchment on top of it. He blinked a second, spotting a curved wand among them. He snatched it up at once, and gave it a wave. He was pleased as a few red sparks shot out of the end of it. It would work for him, although not well, and any wand was better than no wand at all. He shoved it in the pocket of his tattered robes, and opened the parchment.

You seem to have been put into a rather difficult situation, young mage. Such a shame, your talents are locked up to rot, when they can be of much better use... elsewhere.

All of you mortals know me, all of you have a piece of me inside of you, and perhaps, one day, you and I will meet face to face. For now, have at my hourglass, it will free you from your bounds. Along with it, find several rather useful tomes. Each contains a spell used by the mortals of Mundus(1), but you should be more than adept at their use. Simply read it to absorb the contained spell.

Oh, and before I forget. To activate the hourglass, simply twist the little knob on the end a quarter turn, yes, that should do. Just a quarter turn, mind you, don't want to send you too far off into the void—just pulling your leg, forgive me! But just a quarter turn... Or I will visit you and eat your eyes...

WHAT? What bloody nonsense is that? Harry practically shouted in his head. He actually re-read the parchment several times just to make sure he understood exactly what he was reading. The bottom line: whoever wrote this was gone 'round the twist.

He shoved the parchment in his pocket, and picked up the hourglass. It was a rather ornate object, likely rather expensive. It could fit in quite nicely with all the other trinkets Dumbledore lined his office with. And, sure enough, the object had a single knob on the top of it. He hesitated in touching it, however. Really. The individual who wrote the letter was barking mad. He might end up exchanging one hell for another. Did he really want that?

A horrible shriek not far down the hall made up his mind for him. Another poor soul had just been brought in, by the sounds of it. He could hear the Auror guards laughing, as the door swung shut with a finite slam. Most of them only last a few weeks, he surmised.

Collecting the books, he put the hourglass between his legs, and turned the knob a quarter-turn. He vanished with a cloud of black smoke.

AUTHOR NOTES: Everyone has to do one, right? Harry in Azkaban? This is my spin. I know, it's been done a gazillion times, but at this point, I think just about anything you can imagine has already been done in the Harry Potter universe.

Still, I think there are things I can do with it, so I give it a crack.

To those who have read my other stories, this one may have a familiar feel to it... I have to admit, the concept is similar. The difference this time around, I'm only dealing with three worlds (at least in this particular story): Harry's, "Sunshine", and the Elder Scrolls universe, specifically the "Skyrim" time line. Harry won't be repeating himself a dozen or so times. I think it dawned on me about half way through as I was writing Temporal Boundary Invasions, that was the case. There was a lot of issues with that story, as a number of reviewers pointed out, mostly rather kindly, some not so. Should I decide Harry and his friends should visit other worlds/dimensions/universes, I will do that in separate stories.

(1)Mundus – another name for Nirn, the planet on which the Elder Scrolls takes place. Cookies to anyone who might guess who the parchment and the items are from. I will say this, Harry has him pegged quite nicely.