Hello! Welcome to this story. I have written this for the enjoyment of writing, so please note I may have been slightly careless with details, particularly with the background and life of Riddick. This story would take place between Pitch Black and Chronicles.

This story is implausible in its premise, but I hope not too implausible in its relationships and emotions.

Chapter 1

"Was he the only one on board?"

"No. There were three more. We tried to save them, but all are dead."

Dead...

"Who is he?"

"What is he is the question. He's not human..."

"Job for Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures then..."

"Not yet. It could be dark magic that brought him here, we don't know. Bastard killed an Auror."

A gasp. "An Auror?"

The sound of footsteps.

"Mr. Potter will be arriving shortly."

"Good. Maybe he'll be able to make sense of all of this."

"We all hope so."

...

The walls of Azkaban were always wet. The sea raged against the island where it stood in its solitary vigil, and the spray constantly spattered those walls closest to it. People rarely stayed outside for long, generally apparating and then hurrying inside as quickly as possible. But today Harry Potter stood and surveyed those foreboding walls.

He had been here many times. Working in the Auror office meant dark wizards, and dark wizards almost always ended up in Azkaban. Or dead, of course. His brow furrowed as he remembered the last time he was here, after the murder of that small boy. The wizard who had committed the atrocity wasn't Dark, as much as they could tell, but insane. Still, he had stayed here a while before he had been transferred to the high security department of St. Mungos. Harry shivered at the memory of questioning that man, his screams, his pleas for mercy and innocence alternating with cackles of merciless laughter.

But that was not why he was here today. A different man resided within these walls now. A man who was not, as far as they could tell, magical. But still extremely dangerous and certainly not human.He had killed two aurors before they could capture him. He moved with an inhuman speed which none of them had expected.

He slowly crossed the grey sand towards the grim entrance, considering all that he had been told of the events of the previous Monday. The two Aurors who had been first on the scene, Simons and Moon, both rookies, had attacked him as soon as he had emerged from the smouldering wreckage of the thing that had fallen from the sky. Shaken and terrified, Moon had attempted to stun the man (he used 'man' for lack of a better word) as soon as she spotted him. She missed, and a moment later, his knife was at her neck. Maybe then, they could have stopped and spoken. If only Harry had been there! But apparently, Simons, in panic at the capture of his partner, had attempted another stun, which had caused the man to kill the girl.

Perhaps he would have killed Simons too, had ne not been overpowered by the Aurors that apparated there moment later. The whole Auror office was in chaos. Being an Auror was a risky job at the best of times, but an Aurors murdered by a non-wizard? There were questions being asked about the training standards right at this very moment.

Harry Potter rubbed his eyes vigorously. It had been a long, tiring few days. Now, however, he was finally going to meet this man, this creature. He had been presented with a photograph in his office – a beast of a man, heavily muscled with tan skin, hunched in a corner with strange, rubbery goggles obscuring his eyes. The photograph showed him skulking, static. For a moment Harry had thought it was a muggle photograph, he was so still, before he had noticed the chest rise a fall just a little.

A small man hurried up to him from an ante-chamber, and bowed before him.

"Mr. Potter. How good to see you. Shall I take you to see the most recent detainee, or would you like some refreshment first? Some tea, maybe, or..."

"No, no, Robert," Harry cut the man off quickly. Robert had a tendency to babble until he was halted. Harry always thought that perhaps Robert's lack of companionship all day, apart from the guards, meant that when he did finally get someone to talk to he just couldn't stop himself. He pitied Robert's wife. "I'll see him now. I've just had lunch anyway."

Robert bobbed his head, "Quite so, quite so Mr. Potter. Well, I'll take you to him now, we've got him down in block E, down here now..."

The prison was cheerier than it had been in the days of the dementors. Kingsley Shacklebolt had made lots of changes now he was the Minister for Magic, and the prison cells were now heavily magiced to prevent escape, with dedicated guards on watch constantly. The task had been immense, with a whole new department created for the task. Harry had helped a fair amount, adding his power to the new cells. However, you could never have called it pleasant here. The walls were still dark stone, the hallways empty of decoration apart from the odd chair, the torches held in wall brackets flickering eerily. He shuddered. Brushed metal doors lined the walls, each with a number printed on it.

Finally they approached Corridor E. Robert swished his wand over one of the metal doors and then pressed his palm to it, stepping back as the door slowly opened. They were faced with a small room, painted white, in which stood two simple wooden chairs. At the back of the room, instead of another solid wall, there was a row of thick, black, metal bars. Beyond these, there the cell. The walls were the cold, dark stone with which the prison was built. The stones were not damp as they had once been, as they had charmed them to repel moisture, but they were still icy to the touch, even when the surrounding room was tolerably warm. A slab of stone was raised against one wall, with a thin mattress resting on top.

It was in this room, that he crouched.

Harry couldn't help but walk to the bars and stare at the man. He had never seen anyone who looked so powerful. He had seen pictures of bodybuilders, but he could tell that this man had never seen the inside of a gym. His power, his strength, had been borne of a life where he used his body constantly. His face was expressionless, his eyes hidden behind those dark goggles. He was not in a comfortable position, but instead hunched in the corner of the cell, coiled as though preparing to strike. He wore a plain white vest (it looked as though it had once had sleeves which had since been torn off), which stretched over his muscled chest, and simple black pants of a canvas material.

"Do you need me for anything, Mr. Potter? Or shall I leave you now?" Robert asked, jerking Harry out of his observations. His voice was slightly higher than before, frightened, and Harry saw his eyes flicked nervously to the man in the cell. He understood. Magical or not, the man gave a sense of deep and extreme power.

"No, you can go. I will call for you when I am finished." Harry said, and Robert nodded and hurried away, snapping the door shut behind him.

Harry drew one of the chairs up to the cell bars and sat, bracing his hands on his knees and stared at the man. He made Harry feel really quite small, which he was not used to. Harry was much more muscular and powerful than he had been when he had defeated Lord Voldemort. Auror training was very intense, and he was now solidly built. But it was nothing compared to this man. A reed waving in the wake of this man's powerful torrent.

Harry wondered if the man would speak. No one had mentioned him talking at all, just staring impassively behind those dark goggles. They had removed them, he had been told, but his eyes were different from normal, so they had replaced them for fear of injuring or blinding the man. He wished he could see the eyes, though. It would make him more human.

Finally, Harry spoke. "My name is Mr. Potter. I am here to speak to you from the magical government. You are detained because you murdered a wizard. But we don't know where you are from, or what you are." He waited for a long moment, hoping for a response.

The man was silent. Harry couldn't see any signs the man had heard or understood him. His face seemed blank, his mouth straight, with no lines on his forehead to suggest any expression at all.

Harry tried again, "We would like to communicate with you so we can find out what we can do. We don't want to keep you here indefinitely. Obviously you have shown yourself to be very dangerous, but we understand that our Aurors were very threatening towards you."

Another long pause. The man was still. Harry explained the Ministry's part in his apprehension. He explained the man's rights, as he would do for any captured wizard.

Time waned on. After Harry had finished talking, and waited for a response for some time, he stood to leave. This was getting nowhere. They would have to try using magic on the man, something to force him to respond. Harry had never had a trouble getting someone to talk before, being able to use veritaserum if they were uncooperative. But if this man was not even human, he couldn't risk using a potion on him.

Just as he put his hand on the door, however, the man spoke.

"Is the woman dead?" He asked, his voice was deep and gravely, his lips barely moved. There was no emotion in the voice, and Harry could barely believe the words had come from him.

"The woman who was also in your... transport?" Harry asked, hoping to get the man to speak again. He didn't, however, and he was forced to carry on. "Yes, she died. She was dead before we reached her, otherwise we might have been able to save her. The men who were with you also died. I'm sorry," He looked into the man's impassive face, "we had mediwizards in attendance within minutes of your apprehension but both didn't survive."

He felt like the apology and explanation were not enough, not to this man who had lost his only companions. Perhaps, though, this man had held them captive? There was no way of telling.

The man looked away, but did not speak.

Harry looked at his watch. He had to get back to the Ministry.

Riddick watched the dark-haired man gently shut the door behind him, calling out for the small man to seal it shut.

It was hardly necessary. When he had been left alone, he had attempted to bend the bars that held him in, but without any luck. They were no metal he had ever come across before. They were completely unyielding, and were not even warm after he had grappled with them for some time.

So he had sat, and waited. Someone would probably come to bring him food. He would grab them, pull them into the bars and threaten to kill them unless the released him.

But to his shock, a plate had materialised in his cell. He hadn't been looking; he supposed someone had put it there, but how? Maybe there was a secret hatch in the cold stone wall. He had run his hands along the wall for a while, trying to find it. But there was nothing there. Water and meals appeared and then disappeared from his cell when he wasn't looking at them. He found it unnerving, and Riddick was not a man who was easily unnerved.

He wasn't entirely sure what to do. He had no plan, now. The black-haired wizard man had told him a great deal about the situation, which no one else had done, but he was no closer to getting free. He did not understand a great deal of what the wizard man had said, but he did now know that he was captive primarily because he had killed that girl.

But what had they being trying to do to him? Bright red beams had shot at him, sparkling and strange, slower than a laser but with the similar smell of heat. He wasn't going to kill the girl, initially, but then he had been attacked further. Riddick was no man to be slain for hesitance to kill. He had slit her throat, and started running. But then there were people everywhere, and what seemed like a hundred streaks of light had hit him in the chest, rendering him instantly unconscious.

It seemed, then, that the beams of light would not have killed him. But he felt no remorse for the death of the girl.

The woman he had been travelling with, Dae, was dead. He felt a stir of anger about that. He had known her only a short time, just the length of the journey. She was strong and wilful, and he had enjoyed her company. They had not been having sex - though it had been on the cards. She had been a good woman, and she was dead. All because of that fool of a pilot. He had recognised Riddick, and called up some merc friends of his who were going to ambush them as soon as they landed. They didn't get that far. Riddick had overpowered him, but the pilot had sabotaged the controls. Riddick had a good knowledge of flying spaceships, but could do very little when he was plummeting towards the ground with a dead control board.

So he was here. Dae was dead, as was that bastard pilot, and the other passenger of the ship Riddick hadn't taken the trouble to know.

He stood, stretching out his long, muscled form. He was tired, exhausted. The journey had been long and tiring before he had crashed here.

He would break out, he resolved. Break out, steal or buy his way onto a ship and then be off back to Helios, or some other planet, to carry on eking out an existence.

He sat back against the wall, and closed his eyes. To rest, not sleep. He would take no chances.