The salty waves smashed at the walls of the massive prison island, the sky rolled with black storm clouds, thunder boomed in the distance. The sharp Crack of a tall man Apparating was unheard over the roar of the North Sea. The man stood for a moment and took in the huge structure; he wished he'd never have to come back here. The Dementors chill swept over him. After the War had ended, the Dementors came slinking back, pleading for mercy, the ministry had no choice but to take them back. Breaking out of Azkaban became routine for any criminal whilst the Dementors were gone. The man started walking towards the front gates, lightning flashed and illuminated his face, he had untidy Jet-black hair, a set of rounded glasses perched on his nose, and in the bright flash of the lightning, his eyes were revealed to be a dazzling shade of green. The man was Harry Potter. Four Dementors flanked the front gates, they didn't stop him, but he felt their gaze following him. He reached the desk where he was to submit his wand; he passed over a thirteen and a half, Beech and Phoenix feather wand to the Watch-Wizard on duty. It was one of his many wands, Harry never liked being unarmed. He felt his robe pockets to ensure his two real wands were still in place, they were. In his left pocket, Holly phoenix feather, eleven inches. And in his right pocket, the elder wand lay. He had talked it over with Dumbledore's portrait, it was safer to take the elder wand rather than leave it without a guard twenty four seven. He already knew the way and followed by two Dementors he began his long walk to the topmost levels, where the lower security prisoners were kept. The walls were damp and covered with mould; the only sounds that could be heard was the dripping of water and the quiet sobs coming from the cells. He reached the cell he was looking for and waited for the Dementor to open the door. Once it did, it glided into the room to observe Harry's visit. Almost unrecognizable under a mop of matted, dirty black hair, sat Ron Weasley.
Ron had gone downhill ever since the Battle of Hogwarts five years ago, he was never the same after Fred died, he began getting angry at the slightest of things. Harry thought back to the day Hermione had floo'd to Grimmuald place in a fit of sobs, Ron had walked in on Hermione and Blaise Zabini in bed. Not that Ron and Hermione were official, but Ron wouldn't give Hermione up, even after she left him. Ron had killed Blaise and attempted to run, it only took Aurors minutes to catch him. So Harry took it upon himself to visit Ron every time he could.
"Alright mate?" Harry asked, Ron merely grunted in response. Harry turned to the Dementor at the door, "You may leave now, I'll be fine." The Dementor was reluctant to leave but after a hidden jab of the elder wand, he left. "Ron, how are you coping?" for a moment he ignored Harry completely, finally he answered and Harry wasn't in the least surprised,
"How do you bloody well think I'm coping? Those gits are always in here sucking my life away, i haven't had decent food in months and I'm surrounded by murderer's"
Harry retort about Ron being one of the murderer's was on the tip of his tongue before he decided against it. Ron's not in the right frame of mind anymore Harry thought sadly. He knew it was one of Ron's bad days, so he decided it was about time he left. After leaving the cell, the Dementors locked the door again and stood behind him, waiting for him to move on.
"Expecto Patronum" he whispered, and an orb of blue-white light hovered in the air as the Dementors fled back down the narrow stairs to the front gate. Harry took a slower walk back down the stairs; thinking about where it had all gone wrong for Ron, his temper has always gotten in the way. Outside the storm was worsening, lightening flashed at least once a minute now, and the thunder shook the walls. Before Harry knew it he was lost, and in a place like this, there were no signs or any way to tell which way to go. He sighed and continued walking. If he walked long enough he'd find the way out, or he would just apparate out, which was supposed to be impossible, but not for the wielder of the elder wand. Harry heard something scuttle to his left and his head snapped round as he levelled the elder wand at the offender. All he could see was a dark cell with a misshapen mound in the corner. Lightning flashed and lit up the dingy little cell, the misshapen hump was a prisoner wrapped in ripped blankets but all Harry could see under the blankets was a pair of glowing silver eyes and then as quick as the cell was lit up it was plunged back into darkness. Harry stood there for a moment wondering where he'd seen those eyes before. Eventually he gave up and moved on, finding the exit within minutes. He stood outside the prison looking up, as he turned on the spot dissaparating with a loud Crack the image of those two silver eyes were burned into his mind.