I'm only doing this once so PAY ATTENTION! I do not own Potter or any of his franchise. I DO own Freak and those specific I make up. Other than that quit reading this crap and get to the story.
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War is a terrible thing. Lives are changed. Governments are toppled. Countries are shapped. It was at this time Lord Voldemort had declaired war against the entire planet. After a devistating battle held at England's Ministry of Magic, the Dark Lord left the scene with corpses lying everywhere with the decree that all beings who did not bow to him would face the same fate. To the world's horror, as his final gift he left two dozen active inferi wondering the halls with the same lightning-bolt scar etched into thier heads.
Obviously the line had been drawn. Even muggles notice when an entire orphanage dissappears without a struggle. Magical people all over England were not only appauled, but frightened as Lord Voldemort calmly walked across the waters seperating Azkaban from the free world. What disturbed the people the most is when he took residence there as a full base. Within moments of his crossing the waters, everyone who didn't bear the mark were turned into his undead guards, the inferi.
Since the attack on the ministry people had been without leadership. Everyone who had worked there had been sacraficed, including ones loyal to the Dark Lord. The only light that seemed to be left in the land still shone from the towers of Hogwarts. It was here that the powerful headmaster, Albus Dumbledore, was at work not only teaching, but serving as a temporary minister. Albus was not pleased with how things were turning out in the war. Although powerful, he had no love of politics. He had always worked to pull strings behind the scenes to guide leaders along the path of the light. Now he was the light. In the hallowed halls of his school he was the beacon that gave hope to the people. Well, that was almost true.
In fact, Albus was the only one of the beacons left in the wizarding world. The other was a young man named Harry Potter. This young man only in his sixth year of school had bested or at least escaped the most feared wizard on several occasions. It is at the begining of that year that everything would finally come to a head. It was on the night of the sorting. Those few children that still braved the dark lands would be sorted into their futures. It was the night a great storm would strike the great hall's ceiling when there was no storm outside at all. Even the headmaster was confused when after a particular bolt of lightning actually hit the ground before the teacher's table. What confused him even more is when a man wearing burnt rags carefully stood up and called to the aged wizard before passing out completely.
"I am Lord Freak! Please grant me sanctuary!"