AN: Ok this is my first story it probably sucks, but I promise it'll get better

Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns everything about Harry Potter she's rich...i'm poor...enough said.

I am….or to put it in better prospective I was a free man at one point in life. Now I am cellmate number 6230741, in Azkaban, held for attempted murder.

I've been in this cell for four long years, and they haven't broken me yet. Which just pisses them off even more. It's a natural process, you spend years in a solitary space, and you learn to cope. The voices….keep me company….the ones in my head of course. Hallucinations also take up most of my time, terrors that I don't even recall flash right before my eyes, sending me into a spiralling downfall of mental deterioration. I believe of course that this is the answer for my reasoning of life. God is an enigma in the heads of brainwashed drones, who traumatize their children with stories of horror so they won't disobey. Yes...this is the conclusion i've made.

I open my eyes...their's an angel staring at me from the corner of my cell. She's naked and the only thing that covers her are tattered wings. Melancholy beauty...that's what most of these 'sights' are made of. I do believe my own mind just loves to fuck me over. Sitting there...staring...a fetal position of unknown vulnerability. Her mouth is sewn shut and it unravels as her mouth opens. She speaks.

" Someone approaches", the whisper like a soft wind in my ear leading me back to reality. The guards are leading some peculiar dressed man in front of my cell. A Long, grey beard, bespecled and a damn twinkle in his eye that shines like a fly trap ready for your doom. I've decided I really don't like him and I don't care to like him. He just stands there analyzing me. A cut of meat on the slab. Am I your prime cut, sir? I suspect he's waiting for me to acknowledge his presence.

But, I just keep my head to the side, staring at the cracks in the brown stone wall. He coughs. I roll my head to the front, staring at him. I never said I was friendly, nor did I care about this man in front of me. "Mr. Harry James Potter?", he has the audacity to ask me. That name…..that insidious, vile name….Harry…..I haven't gone by that name since my last beating. "I no longer go by that name", I say coldly.

"So sorry my dear boy, so what shall I call you?" "You can call me Ares, and I am not a boy….that I'm quite sure you can clearly see.

That twinkles gone from his eye. That made my day. "Well…Ares from now on you'll be addressed as Harry Potter and you will be attending Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!''. I nearly threw up from the big smile implanted on his face. This man is up to something….I like conniving people, but not when it's against me. Contemplating this idea I arch an eyebrow in consideration.

"If I go does that mean I'm free from this place?" "Yes, of course Harry, you'll never have to come back here again as long as you stay out of trouble", he replied in his attempt at I guess a friendly 'you can trust me' tone.

Noding my head, the guard unlocks the cell door and I slowly raise form my sitting position. They both walk me down the hallways of screaming, weeping, and whimpering inmates. Handcuffs holy my hands back until we reach the front door. A vile and nasty looking man signs me out and with a sneer i'm released from this sweeping hell hole of the sea.

I change into the clothes this man has bought me. Clearly this man was expecting a different person who was of a very different caliber. A checkered button down shirt...nd jeans. Terribly juvenile. "Mr……???", I wait for him to fill in the blank. "Dumbledore…..you'll call me headmaster Dumbledore...Harry". I look up at this man who thinks he's god to me. Probably waiting for me to grovel at his feet, thanking him kindly for saving this pathetic life of mine. I grovel to no one.

"Well….headmaster Dumbledore…before we leave these doors let me get one thing straight, my name is Ares and I will expect that you will call me by it, and another thing is…if you think for one damn minute I owe you anything for getting me out of their, and I'm going to do anything you ask of me…then your pretty fucked up in the head and should put that ridicilous thought to death", I say in a calm voice. I believe he got the point.

I walk down the bridge and wait for him at the end. He comes marching down after me. Grabs me roughly. And I feel a pull at my stomach. This will be fun.