The obsidian bars of Azkaban creaked ominously as tundra winds permutated the air, the smell of dried blood and piss littered around the meagre cell. Inmates screamed with anguish, begging and pleading to their gods, others cackled at the sheer misery and lavished in the attention they received from the dementors as they inhaled deeply, sucking and absorbing happy memories at a unprecedented rate.
Alone in his cell sat a boy who's once emerald eyes radiated with warmth and love now held unfathomable amounts of hate. His eyes glistened with tears as he remembered his memories and the past.
Flashback:
He lay on the soft hospital bed, a wide grin on his face triumphant on his victory over the basilisk. He couldn't believe the sheer audacity of his lack of preparation had borne fruit. He was more of an action type than a thinker. As he lay there he gave Ginny an elated look which she reciprocated happily. Ron as always was in a deep sleep.
The wooden doors of the hospital wing unexpectedly were wrenched open, revealing the perpetual sneering faces of Lucius Malfoy and Severus Snape while trailing behind them in a sombre manner were the house elf Dobby and Albus Dumbledore and the conflicted minister of magic.
Cornelius Fudge.
"Explain Mr Potter on how prior to your attendance to the hospital wing, we managed to find an artefact of great evil grasped firmly in your embrace and the broken hilt of Gryffindor's sword one of Hogwarts esteemed founders." Drawled Lucius silkily.
"Potter like his father before him always was one too completely disregard rules implemented to keep impudent children such as himself in line." Spat Snape hatred evident in his charcoal eyes as he stared unremorsefully into the son of his greatest tormentor.
"Severus, calm down and have a lemon drop I personally find them rather soothing. Now onto more pressing matters, Cornelius do I have your express permission for the administration of veritaserum?"
Fiddling with his bowler hat at all the attention now solely on him, he gave a sharp nod. The reaction for such an action were instant. Dumbledore shot a sad look at Harry. Snape looked conflicted whilst Lucius smirked with reckless abandon and unceremoniously deposited a bag of gold galleons into the awaiting abyss that was Fudges pocket.
Harry sat stunned through all of this he had read about veritaserum and was in a state of shock, what was Dumbledore thinking?
"Cornelius, Lucius can you fetch Amelia? Severus get the potion. I will stay here." Said Dumbledore.
The three nodded, Snape staring at Dumbledore a tad more than what was necessary a legilimency message passed between the two before he left his cloak billowing after him. Dumbledore turned around to face the duo wand raised pointing it at harry a look of fear, self- loathing and regret all fused into one.
"Supprimere et memoriam horum!"
Harry glowed gold and he shook where he lay. Grasping his head in agony as something invaded his mind. Guarding and restraining it.
"Quiesco" murmured Dumbledore, raising his wand at Ginny causing her to yawn loudly before drifting off into a deep slumber as her breathing relaxed.
"Harry my boy, remember this very carefully for what I am about to impart onto you is imperative. I am doing this for you, for the greater good. Know I will always endeavour to help. Follow my lead and all shall be fine.
The minister came back with a stern women a frown upon her face as her eye brows furrowed deeply her harsh lines becoming more prominent. "Get on with it"
Snape walked to the edge of Harry`s bed and roughly grasped his chin tipping exactly three drops of liquid onto his tongue before quickly snatching his hand back as if burned.
"Is your name Harry potter?"
"Well duh" he repeated monotonously
"Tell us what happened at the chamber yesterday!"
End flashback:
Harry woke up from his slumber, the pain in his eyes becoming more prominent. The constant strain of dementor exposure was taking a toll on him. He could not summon any anger towards Dumbledore only hatred in its entirety. He could feel them gathering around his decrepit cell like vultures lusting to devour his soul. The moment he felt a shred of emotion they circled in pairs to feast upon his misery and pain.
Harry potter was broken. Broken beyond repair. He was the living embodiment of cold both in mind and body. Cold and empty.
The pain in his eyes reached unbearable levels. It felt his eyes were being gouged out and burned with hot pokers. Harry could not stand it when inexplicably it happened.
His hatred magnified beyond his wildest imaginations. His hatred at Voldemort, Dumbledore, his aunt and uncle, his cousin, his parents for leaving him all alone in this cursed and miserable world. His anger at his farce of a trial how the sheep of the wizarding world threw him to the wolfs.
His scar pulsed painfully, throbbing in sync with his eyes. His brain felt like it was bathed in the flames of a thousand suns. The magic caressed his skin like an overflowing current of magma waiting to erupt from his eyes the metaphorical volcano. He could dimly feel wisps of shadow drift out of skin before shattering into hundreds of pieces.
They had asked no one, told no one. His was a secret incarnation. Hidden from the eyes of the public, concealed within lies and underhand dealings. Not a single Hogwarts teacher besides from his favourite potions professor Snape and the beloved headmaster had known of his incarceration. Lucius and Cornelius were sworn to secrecy.
Men in black robes and hoods had taken him and thrown him in this cell.
His hatred rose inch by decadent inch and filled him to the brim, magic exploding from every spore in his body causing an unearthly scream to fill the cell. The bars evaporating and closer dementors burning and screeching amongst the cackle of flames. As Harry lost conscious his eyes gave one last throb of pain before ceasing.
…
Bright lights was what he awoke too. He could see the wards and runes convey all around the Island of Azkaban. He could see in crystal clarity, the separate elements used for respiration in the exhales of inmates. He felt cold and in control. His hatred felt like a sharp needle. Refined beyond measure was his greatest treasure. He felt different. Oh so different.
He could not feel the cold aura that was usually quite palpable. He felt them crowding around his cell but they didn't drain his memories. He now had a buffer. Something was wrong with his eyes.
And his body. He could feel the magic running through him like a current. It was the same feeling he got when facing the 60 foot basilisk. But now he got that feeling with a flick of his wrist without his trusted holly and phoenix wand. Frost enveloped the surrounding area near him as dementors glided in his abode tasked with sucking his soul.
He stared at them and saw the black voids that they were. He could see the virtual endlessness of their foreign magic that flowed through their body. Their aura was nothing compared to his eyes now.
The dementor nearest to him floated and lowered his hood.
Harry felt no alarm, a fact that registered it was either drive the dementors away or have the alternative of getting sucked.
Raising his pale and thin hand out, palm facing outwards.
"Expecto patronum"
White light imploded from his hand, careening towards the dementors drenching them from hood to shoe. They screeched in union with their fellow brethren and fled out the cell to the bleakness of Azkaban, shrieking in agony.
Fascinating. I don't require a wand to channel magic anymore…My hands suffice. My body itself embodies magic. But the drain was noticeable very much so. The patronus also felt different, where before it required emotion to feed and sustain all I need is will now.
Harry sat down beads of sweat glistened and threatened to fall down his forehead, considering many things had happened too fast. Looking down at his body, he saw the damage he sustained at the hands of his loving relatives and the less the stellar treatment of the Azkaban wardens. He was basically a stick. Pale and sickly and dirty. Very very dirty. But the magic was there.
He stared around the room and removed his glasses. A gift from the Dursley's. Grasping them tightly around his hands he snapped them harshly before discarding them without a care. His vision was perfect. The way he was now though stunned him. Dumbledore and Fudge were not relevant until he got out of here.
….
"It has happened, Albus. The boy has awakened them. Should we get him out?" asked a man encased within dragon hide.
Dumbledore placed three lemon drops in his mouth and took time in chewing the delectable sweets. "We have four more months left before he has to start his forth tenure at Hogwarts. Describe me his eyes. Now!"
The man looked at Dumbledore with wonder seeping into his eyes as he talked with reverence. "Albus, his eyes are no longer emerald like lily but they are black. Shining onyx. And when magic is channelled into them….."
Albus leaned forward hand reaching out for more lemon drops as he gestured to continue a look of desperation on his face.
"They turn red. A blazing red with a single tomoe.. Why doesn't he have all three? That is how it should be!"
Dumbledore felt relived beyond measure. Harry had done it. After many centuries he had awoken eyes of unfathomable power.
"He has magic coursing through his veins and has the ability to manipulate it wandlessly. The dementors have no effect on him.
Dumbledore looked as if he had aged hundreds of thousands of years. The pain evident upon his face. "I suppose… Suppose it can't be helped. Alert the department Bode, they have my express authorization. And it's time to recall them…." He said meaningfully.
Bode nodded briskly. "It shall be done but how will you explain yourself to the boy?"
Dumbledore stood and looked out the window staring at the giant squid in the black lake as it waved at him. "I shall tell him the truth. He will never forgive me Bode. But he won't turn out like Tom. Sometimes I wonder, if I am the monster taking away so much from harry. If I am just another dark lord.
Bode nodded again. They were monsters indeed, Albus and the department. But if that was what they needed to be to save the inhabitants of the magical world than that's what they were monsters..
…..
Harry stood in his cell. Today was the day he felt pure. He owed them so much pain. The way they tortured him… He had gained a pain tolerance that was already quite high was now bolstered by godly levels. He learned to look through the pain, disregard it at will.
It was after the day he had driven out the dementors with no wand. They had slipped a tray of food in, and he devoured readily.
And promptly fell asleep.
He was shackled, naked and had a wand tip at his forehead. He could still use magic but it was of no use, it was only a trickle in comparison to the raging maelstrom he had before.
He activated his eyes attempting to look through the darkness. He saw a hooded man open his mouth, leering at him. The bright strands of magic poured out of the wand and was expelled out at his forehead.
"Crucio"
Harry screamed and screamed, trying to escape his shackles. White hot knives tearing through his body, his mind pierced by billions of needles. He felt every last drop. He screamed until his throat was raw and sore, before screaming again. The pain was absolute, consuming.
The wand was pointed at him again.
"Crucio"
The world went red once more and he resumed his screams.
After torturing him two hours a day, until he could clearly see how the strands of magic were moulded and he tried to corrupt the tendrils to lessen its coherence.
After torturing him with curses for days on end, they threw him into a room and men beat him physically. Once a female operative had collected a few of his sperm. Causing him to blush furiously at the slightest prerogative.
He stopped caring about his plight. He stopped trusting and assuming. Only react and survive.
On the 8th day it was different. He could see how magic flowed through each person and how they moved before they moved through minuscular twitches. They pounced him expecting an easy win. 5 were dead and 7 were never going to move again.
He had been broken only to be reformed into something. It had occurred to him after every torture session, his perception increased conspicuously after every torture session. He had made the connections quite fast and he long concluded his imprisonment had been to do with awaking these eyes.
The doors to his cell opened.
"Harry potter, inmate number 300. You have served your sentence diligently and are about to be freed. Sign this paper and accompany us to the edge of the island. There will be someone to collect you."
It was his last day of imprisonment. He felt nothing. He did not care anymore. He was not peaceful but cold and hard. He felt with abnormal clarity. His imprisonment had taught him one thing in abundance. He was weak. Weak beyond measure. He felt bile rise to his throat as he thought of his former self. How he used to be. Lazy weak, procrastinating and a slave to his own whims and desires. Well no more.
"Before you go, know that I am sorry for what you have endured here. This is no place for a child. No matter the crime."
Harry nodded to him. He felt no malice towards Azkaban only the certain truth that he would burn every last brick to embers. It had turned him into something unique. He saw the uselessness of unnecessary emotion. Do not feel emotion, only use it.
