AN: So I sat down to update one of my other stories this afternoon. Unfortunately though I just didn't feel it, so I tried another, and another, only to never really build up any motivation. It's temporary I assure you, but I don't know I just felt like doing a palate cleanser, and well here we are.
Not sure what'll happen with this, it depends on the response really and what other people think.
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.
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Chapter 1
( - )
(With Harry)
Deep beneath the earth, on the cold, barren, island prison of Azkaban, Harry James Potter, the last of the Ancient and Noble Potter family lolled against the bars of his cell. His raven black hair was matted with dirt and filth, and his tall, thin, pale skinned body was clad in a ragged, grey set of standard prison wear.
Letting out a bored sigh Harry continued to drum his fingers on the bars of his cell, absentmindedly tracing the faint runes that he could see were engraved into them with his other hand as he looked around at his surroundings in boredom.
Currently he was just one of the lucky few residents of 'the Pit', collectively known to all those in the know as the shitty arsehole of Azkaban.
It was also for that very reason the most highly secure part of the maximum security prison too. Which was also why it was buried nearly a mile below the surface of the earth. Carved into the planets bedrock and reinforced by magic. It was also the place where the worst of the worst, those sentenced to life were sent, it was where they were sent to rot, hidden away from the sun or from fresh air, tucked away within the bowels of the earth, out of sight and out of mind.
Fortunately though it was not as bad as it once was, after all 'the Pit' also used to be the spawning ground for the Dementors, the islands former prison guards. This was where they had once been the most concentrated, it was also where they spawned new Dementors. Though not in the traditional way, as over the course of many decades they corrupted the prisoners kept down here with their foul aura, eventually mutating them into Dementors themselves.
Suffice to say it wasn't a nice way to go, then again prisoners weren't sent here to have fun. No, they were sent here for the rest of their lives as a punishment for their crimes.
Still as previously stated 'the Pit' wasn't as bad as it used to be, after all with the Dark Lord Voldemort well and truly dead now, and a new, far more competent Ministry of Magic in charge, the Dementors had since been exterminated.
Every last one of them had been destroyed, though in part that was due to the fact that they had sided with Voldemort, again, when he was reborn a few years ago. With them having aided him in the Dark Lord's most recent reign of terror. A reign of terror that had only ended when the Boy-Who-Lived, the Chosen One had finally fulfilled his prophesised task and killed the Dark Lord Voldemort, once and for all.
Harry sighed again at that, resting his head against the cold bars of his cell, ignoring the now familiar feeling of the magic coursing through the metal. These bars had been specifically enchanted to stop the wizard or witch inside the cell from using their magic, either with a wand or without one.
It was a relatively new addition which had been brought about partly due to the absence of the happiness sucking Dementors, and partly because it became known that Sirius Black, a falsely accused murderer, had escaped Azkaban a few years ago now by transforming himself into a dog and slipping through the bars and passed the Dementors unnoticed.
It was a shame really as Harry had an Animagus form of his own, then again an avian form would not be all that useful underground, especially when the sightless Dementors had been replaced with component Aurors, wizards and witches specifically trained in hunting Dark Wizards who worked for the Ministry's Department of Magical Law and Enforcement.
Harry sighed again at that, without the Dementors the never ending aura of despair that ground the prisoners down mat no longer be around, but that didn't mean being down here was pleasant. No it was dark, dank, cold and above all boring, there was nothing to do except sit in your cell and ponder on your life, and on all the things you missed that you had taken for granted when you were free.
That or you could talk to the other prisoners down here.
"I swear Potter, if you sigh one more time I'm going to reach through those bars and throttle you!" A hoarse, croaky voice suddenly snarled out, attracting Harry's attention as he looked over to one of the other two metre by two metre cells, one which was as barren as Harry's own as it had no bed or furniture instead just a hole in the ground for piss and shit, and a pile of filthy straw and a threadbare blanket as a bed.
Yep, Wizarding prisons were practically medieval, and there was little to no regulations or guidance on how they should be treated, save for them not being physically harmed without reason nor allowed to be killed, either by their own choice or by the guards. Those rules were heavily enforced, but otherwise it was pretty miserable down here, purposefully so.
Looking up at the speaker Harry found himself looking at the ugly, heavily scarred face of Antonin Dolohov glaring at him, his face pressed against the bars and his single remaining eye gleaming brightly through the gloom as he glared hatefully at Harry.
"Go fuck yourself Antonin you miserable turd." Harry replied blandly, sticking two fingers up and sending the former Death Eater the internationally recognised hand sign for 'fuck off'.
"You want to have a go Potter, I will rip your throat out with my teeth you jumped up little shit!" Antonin snarled as he strained against his bars, his anger increasing by the second as he saw how unconcerned Harry looked.
"Wow graphic." Harry replied dryly, a mocking smirk spreading across his face as he tilted his head to the side and gaze at the furious Dark Wizard across from him. "Then again you didn't come off so well the last time we faced off, those scars never really did heal that well did they?"
Antonin's single remaining eye bulged at that reminder, even as he brought a mangled hand up to his partially melted face, feeling the thick scars that deformed his features.
"Shut up down there!" Another loud voice shouted out, only this time it came from above, attracting the eleven inmates of 'the Pits' attention as they looked up. Their gazes locking on a wide metal platform that was slowly descending through the air from the large metal grate some fifty feet overhead, the only entrance and exist into 'the Pit'. "You've got yourself another permanent neighbour."
"Oh, another dead man walking!" A high pitched feminine voice cackled from another one of the cells, Bellatrix Lestrange now getting involved as she pressed her pale, gaunt and haggard face against the bars, a gleeful look on her face as she tried to see who the new inmate was.
"Of course you'd be happy about that you psychotic bitch." Harry grumbled, though if he was being honest with himself he too was curious about just who the new lifer was. "You probably just want another person around that you can torment, all so you can feel better about your own sad, useless, pointless existence."
"Drown yourself in your shit bucket Halfblood." Bella spat back at him brusquely, before she once again looked up at the still descending platform, chanting as she did so. "New fish, new fish, new fish."
All around the circular cavern the rest of the inmates joined in the chanting, all of them were the worst of the worst, they were mass murderers, torturers, necromancers, dark wizards, all of them had committed a whole host of terrible crimes, of which they were all proven irrefutably guilty.
"How long do you think this one will take to crack?" Fenrir Greyback growled from his own cell, his already ugly face twisting into a somehow even uglier expression as he gazed up at the descending platform.
"I'd given him an hour." Harry replied from his own cell, once again leaning against the bars as the platform finished its descent, only looking away to share a grin with Fenrir.
"I'll take you up on that, Hazza, if I can make him crack in under that then you have to sing us a song," Fenrir grinned, it was a pretty piss poor bet, then again they all had nothing, not even food as they were sustained by a particularly nasty ward, one that did nothing for their gnawing hunger and thirst, but kept them alive with magic all the same. It was for that reason that humiliation was really the only thing they had to gamble with, plus it was pretty useful as a distraction too.
"Fine and if you can't then I expect one in return, I want to be serenaded." Harry retorted, not at all perturbed by how stupid this sounded, after all when you were trapped down here in the cold, damp, darkness you clung onto anything you could to entertain you.
A few moments later the platform touched down and two red robed Aurors forced the new inmate off of it, both of them holding him tight as he struggled and screamed, before they cast him onto the floor, one of them taking their wands out to immobilise him, and then force him to stand up, whilst the other held a long rune engraved metal baton which was crackling with magical lightning at one end.
"We're to put him in the cell next to Potter." The Auror with the baton said, gesturing over to the empty cell next to Harry.
"Oh I'm honoured." Harry said sarcastically as the other Auror forced the prisoner over to where Harry was, the new prisoner eventually coming into focus through the perpetual gloom down in 'the Pit'.
"Shove it scum." The Auror with the wand growled, spitting on the floor near to Harry's cell.
Harry though ignored him for the moment, his gaze instead on the new inmate. "Well look here, if it isn't Drakey Poos." Harry said mockingly, his emerald eyes glittering with malicious glee as he saw the scared pointed features, and white blonde hair of Draco Malfoy, even as he was forced into the cell next to Harry against his wishes. "They finally track you down Malfoy and drag you out of that little hole you were hiding in?"
Malfoy didn't respond as he was instead thrust into the cell, with the bars closing behind him with a loud clang and melding together, never to open again, or at least not until his body needed removing.
"Quiet traitor!" The Auror with the baton snarled, slamming the sparking metal pole against the bars of Harry's cells as he did so, forcing Harry to leap backwards to avoid being shock as magical lightning shot across the metal bars, only for it to be suppressed moments later as the runes on the bars flared to life.
"It's Dean isn't it? Dean Thomas?" Harry spoke up, his eyes gleaming with anger, before a wicked smile spreading across his lips. "I remember you, you were in my year weren't you, a muggleborn Gryffindor from memory."
"I said shut up!" Dean snarled, his eyes flashing angrily as he once again struck the metal bars, magical lightning running across the bars of the cells again. An action which just got him a mocking smirk from Harry as he stepped back and out of danger as the cell's bars once again muted the magic.
Around the pit all of the other prisoners began chuckling cruelly, Bella's high pitched cackle standing out the most. A lot of the people down here might hate Harry, or at least not like him that much, but all of them hated their guards far more.
"You seem angry, excessively so." Harry said softly, keeping his distance as he saw the dark skinned man's face contort in anger. Dean must be around twenty one or twenty two years old by now, the same age as Harry. He was too young to be a proper field Auror, investigator or detective, but a trainee that was possible, as too was him being relegated to a prison guard. "I'm guessing you lost someone in the war, who was it? Was it your mother, your father, maybe a sibling, or a friend?"
Dean twitched as Harry said friend, something which Harry locked onto as he crept closer, his green eyes still glittering cruelly through the darkness.
"So a friend then was it? It wasn't that loud obnoxious Irish boy was it? What was his name Sean, Simon?" Harry mused, his lips quirking upwards as he saw Dean gripping his baton tighter. "Was it me who killed him I wonder?"
Dean didn't have to say anything to answer the question, instead his face twisted into a snarl and his hand dived into his robes as he went for his wand.
"Enough Trainee Thomas!" The other older wand wielding Auror said loudly, the tall, dark skinned man walking forwards as he gripped Dean's shoulder tightly. "Keep your temper, don't let the inmate get to you. It's what he wants. Remember he was defeated, caught and sentenced, and now he is down here paying for his crimes. He is just baiting you, he wants you to lash out and end up as a prisoner too."
Dean stiffened as he heard this, but reluctantly nodded all the same.
"Aww you're no fun Shacklebolt." Harry sighed, though his lips did twitch upwards in amusement as the older Auror looked over at him, a flash of revulsion and hatred appearing in the stoic Auror's eyes for a moment. "You're not still angry with me are you?"
"You're a traitor inmate, you turned your back on everything you and your family stood for, your parents must be rolling in their graves." Shacklebolt replied with forced calm, his gaze both angry, yet also disappointed. "You had so much potential, and could have done so much good, but now look at you!"
"I was merely being practical." Harry shrugged easily. "Little Neville, the vaunted Boy-Who-Lived was inept, and your Order and the Ministry was losing. Despite that though, I joined you for a while I helped you, I fought alongside you, but none of you ever really approved of me, or of my methods. So really can you blame me for leaving and deciding to join the winning side?"
"And how did that work out for you?" Shacklebolt snapped, his grip on Dean tightening to the point at which the younger wizard flinched and cried out in pain. "You were doing good! You were fighting the good fight, you were a trusted member of the Order and they you just turned on us. You killed, no you murdered those who trusted you and joined the man that sanctioned your parent's death!"
"It was a misjudgement." Harry shrugged, his head tilting to the side as he eyed the two angry men up and down. "I was maybe a little too impulsive, how was I to know Dumbledore had a plan. That he had accounted for Longbottom's uselessness and already plotted out old Voldemort's demise. It's his own fault for always keeping his cards so close to his chest! If he had been more willing to share what he knew and to not keep people in the dark then the war would have been over much sooner, and far fewer people would have died, it's as simple as that and you know it!"
"You cannot justify your actions, or shift the blame Potter. You are a murderer, a torturer, a practitioner of the darkest of magic's, you are responsible for your own crimes no one else! You Harry Potter are the arch-traitor, and may you burn in hell when the time comes." Shacklebolt growled, his voice getting louder and louder, even as his mind flicked back to all those that had been lost during the war, all the pain, death and destruction that Harry damn Potter had caused.
"Careful Shack, you're letting your anger get the best of you." Harry replied softly, his smile gone now, and his emerald eyes instead burning with anger, practically glowing in the darkness of his cell.
Shacklebolt glared at that, after which he turned and strode back to the platform, Dean following after him, but only after he sent one last glare at those in the cells, the few remaining Death Eaters that still lived, those that had been taken alive, and those that would spend the rest of their lives paying for their sins and the sins of their fallen master.
"Wow they sure hate you don't they ickle baby Potter!" Bellatrix cooed from the cell next to Harry.
"Shove it up your arse Lestrange." Harry snapped, before he looked over to Draco's cell, his lip curling upwards as he heard Draco Malfoy's whimpering.
"So anyway Malfoy what happened? I thought you and your parents left the country, fleeing like the craven you are." Fenrir spoke up suddenly, the rest of the prisoners quieting down as he directed his words to the new lifer.
Malfoy didn't reply to that, as he instead buried his head into his arms and continued to whimper and cry.
"I am surprised though, I would have thought they would drag your slimy daddy down here too? And your shrew faced mother." Fenrir spoke up cruelly, going for the low blows now. "Unless of course they're both dead!"
Malfoy's sobbing intensified at that, before it turned into full blown wailing, which in turn made Fenrir crow in delight. "And the new fish has already broken!"
"For fucks sake Malfoy, you didn't even last a minute!" Harry groaned, even as the other prisoners started laughing and jeering, all of them cruelly mocking the crying blonde, save of course for the boy's mad auntie, Bellatrix.
"Ha! Time for a singsong Potter!" Fenrir shouted, only to be ignored when Bella's voice cut through the jeering.
"What happened to Cissy Draco?!" Bellatrix demanded, unable to see her nephew, not that she didn't try as she pressed herself against the bars of her cell. "What happened to my sister, is she dead!?"
"So what if she is, just another member of your foul family gone." Harry chuckled from his cell. "I'm hoping for a clean sweep."
"Silence Potter, or are you still angry that I killed your mummy and daddy!" Bellatrix snapped, her tone hateful as she shrieked at him.
"I would say I was still pretty angry yes. Are you still annoyed that I killed your husband and brother in law and burned down your family's old manor house?" Harry replied mockingly. "Or are you more annoyed that I would have killed you to if old Voldie hadn't shown up and driven me away, saving your worthless life?"
"You got lucky Potter! You ambushed me! Besides if the Dark Lord hadn't arrived I still would have beaten you, I had a plan!" Bellatrix snapped back at him churlishly.
"Liar!" Harry crowed, his voice loud and mocking.
"Silence Halfblood!" Bellatrix shrieked again, only for her complaints to be drowned out by Harry's mocking laughter at her tired old insult, the other prisoners all joining in too, trying to alleviate their own misery by making their fellow prisoners feel even worse.
It was just another day in 'the Pit'.
( - )
(A few days later)
Sleeping fitfully on the floor of his cell a few days later, Harry tried ignore the uncomfortable rocky ground below him, as well as the slight whimpers he could hear coming from some of the other cells.
For all some of the residents of 'the Pit' tried to make themselves out to be these big, ruthless, bad ass killers, for most of them it was an act, one they put up to spare themselves from the misery of their incarceration.
Harry was no different, for all of his outward confidence he was miserable and was close to breaking point. He'd only been here six months and already he was unhappier than he had ever been before. He was far unhappier than he had been in the muggle orphanage his horrible, muggle Uncle and Aunt had sent him to as a young boy after the death of his parents.
He was feeling worse than he had when he was placed into Ravenclaw, the House of the intelligent, witty and socially inept, back when he first arrived at Hogwarts as a lonely, social awkward orphan. Something which had been compounded when he was separated from the people he had met on the train, Ron and Neville, both of whom he had thought of as potential friends. Only for them to brake off all ties with him when he wasn't in Gryffindor like them.
Hell he felt worse than he had when he heard that Sirius Black had broken out of Azkaban to protect Harry who was his godson, only for him to be kissed by the Dementors when Snape caught him and turned him in. All because Longbottom, Weasley and Granger had stuck their noses in, all of them so full of their own self-importance that they thought Sirius had broken out to get Neville. Their actions, no matter how accidental, having led to the death of an innocent man, one who Harry had never had the chance to get to known.
Honestly, Harry didn't know how it had all gone so wrong. Was his life really supposed to go the way it had?
He knew he was no saint, Shacklebolt had been correct when he called Harry a murderer and a traitor.
He had once been a loyal and trustworthy member of the Order of the Phoenix, joining during his last year at Hogwarts, in part because his parents had been members before him. Hell he had even allowed them to use the heavily protected and warded house he had inherited from Sirius Black, Number 12 Grimmauld Place, as Headquarters during his sixth year too.
But then due to Dumbledore's single-minded obsession with that damn prophecy, which Harry still didn't know the fully, and his overall intransigence, as well as Longbottom's utter incompetence he had started to doubt whether the Order of the Phoenix was actually accomplishing anything. More than that though, he had begun to question why he was even fighting anymore.
Harry had always been a practical person by nature, quite mercenary in the way he chose to act. Some of course would call him just plain selfish. But for Harry he considered it a necessity of his upbringing. He had had to claw for everything in his life, he had never had a leg up, or been given any help.
It was for that reason, and his overall discontentment with Dumbledore's leadership that he had joined Voldemort. Sure his followers, Barty Crouch Junior, Bellatrix Lestrange, Rabastan Lestrange and Rudolphas Lestrange had murdered his mother and father after Voldemort's first fall from power. But by that point three of them were dead, two of which at Harry's own hand, and Bella was mentally unstable and would likely end up dead sooner or later.
Staying his hand from murdering the last of the four murderers was a small price to pay for contentment, and for the rewards he had been sure he would reap once Voldemort had finished his campaign, which at the time he had been on the very cusp of doing. On top of which Harry was already planning on killing Bella once victory had been assumed, he wasn't some meek, submissive pawn after all. He was Harry god damn Potter, and he always had his own agenda.
So yes, in the end he had made a gamble. He had looked at his current position with the Order and he had looked at how Voldemort was winning, and quite easily at that and made the logical decision. It was just a shame his gamble hadn't paid off, if he had had more faith then he would have been sitting pretty right now. But he hadn't, and as such was rotting in this cell.
He wasn't sure how Longbottom had done it, or what he had been up to when he disappeared soon after Dumbledore's death in their seventh year. But whatever he had done, it had led to a sudden last minute surge of rebellion. Which in turn had ended with Voldemort dead for good this time, most of his follower's dead, and Harry, and the few other Deatheaters that survived being imprisoned for the rest of their lives in Azkaban.
Sure the wizarding world had been left in utter shambles after Voldemort's fall too, with thousands dead on both side, Hogwarts a gutted ruin, Hogsmeade and Diagon Alley in ashes and conflicts with the other magical races on the rise, but the vaunted 'light' had still won, and no doubt magical Britain and to a lesser extent the rest of Europe were already recovering, if slowly.
If only he had another chance, a chance to do things properly and come out on top this time.
A sudden chill wind rushed though the bars of Harry's cell at that thought, making him pull his threadbare blanket tighter around him in the hopes of warding off the cold. It didn't work though as the wind seemed to grow heavier, ruffling his hair and blowing through the holes in his blanket making him shiver.
'How, was there even any wind this deep underground?' Harry grumbled to himself as the wind intensified even more, his blanket becoming colder and wetter as dew seemed to form on it.
From all around the cavern the other prisoners began to cry out now, most of them shouting in shock as the wind intensified even more, and the runes on the bars of their cells began to glow brightly.
Tearing his blanket off Harry had had enough. They were all already miserable enough down here, the last thing they needed was more crap on top of that.
Upon sitting up and looking around though, Harry's indignation vanished in an instant when he saw what looked like a miniature storm cloud had formed in the air above him, dark, smoky clouds roiling in the air, even as reddish lightning crackled through it.
More than that though he could see the storm seemed to be growing in power, and in noisiness too, as from out of it Harry could hear what sounded like a cold, empty voice chanting.
"What the fuck!" Harry shouted as he leapt onto his feet and backed away, or at least as far as he could in his minute cell.
"Potter what the hell are you doing?!" One of the other inmates shouted.
"Do you want to bring the guards down on us!?" Another shouted nervously.
"How can you use magic?!" Bellatrix shrieked.
"Boy you'd better get us out of here too if you're escaping!" Fenrir growled, slamming against the bars of his cell.
"I'm not doing this!" Harry retorted, a hint of fear in his voice now as the dark cloud expanded, the cloying mist rolling over Harry now, and the red lightning crackling across his skin, making his hair stand on end and his muscles spasm.
The chanting by this point was more practically deafening, though the words themselves were still indistinct.
"Oh shit!" Harry cursed one last time, before the black cloud consumed him.
It was the last any of those present would hear from Harry Potter, as moments later the dark cloud dispersed and with a dull thump his body collapsed to the floor, like a puppet with its strings cut. His emerald green eyes empty and unseeing, the spark of life well and truly gone as they slowly glazed over.
( - )
(Tuesday 15th August 1995, Number 12 Grimmauld Place)
There was a tired expression on Albus Dumbledore's face as he looked around at the small group of people he had gathered in the kitchen of number 12 Grimmauld Place.
Each of the assembled witches and wizards were loyal and brave members of the Order of the Phoenix, men and women that had not only believed Dumbledore when he told them of Voldemort's rebirth at the end of the Triwizard Tournament only a few months ago, but had also joined up to fight him.
Unfortunately though bravery and loyalty does not always mean dependable. Mundungus Fletcher was a prime example of that. The man was a sneak thief and a con man, but despite that Dumbledore had recruited him as even men like that had uses, plus he liked to give people chances.
In this case though that had turned out to be a mistake. Mundungus had been just one of several Order members that had been assigned to watching over Harry Potter whilst he spent his summer at his Aunt and Uncles house, under the safety of the Blood Wards that Dumbledore himself had set up fourteen years prior.
The job wasn't particularly difficult as Harry had thus far obeyed all of Dumbledore's instruction and had stuck to the area surrounding his Aunt and Uncles house. All the job required was a couple of hours a day standing under an invisibility cloak making sure nothing bad happened to the boy, it was a little tiresome yes, but not too much of a hardship.
Mundungus though had dropped the ball, he had let his own greed get the best of him and had abandoned his post without a word to anyone, all so he could pick up some dodgy cauldrons from another one of his dubious associates. And because of that Harry Potter was now lying upstairs in a comatose state.
Mundungus had left his post for barely half an hour and in that time two Dementors had swooped in and kissed both Harry Potter and his cousin Dudley, one of whom was upstairs in a coma, whilst the other was in a muggle hospital as good as dead and absent a soul.
Dumbledore sighed at that, for some reason or another Harry hadn't been able to defend himself properly as although he had attempted to cast the Patronus Charm to ward off the Dementors, he had obviously not succeeded.
The exact reason why was still unknown, but the wand was had been found several feet from his body and was shown to have cast the spell even if it was not a full corporeal Patronus like Harry was definitely capable of. On top or which the Ministry of Magic had definitely picked up on Harry's attempts to cast the spell too, after all they were even now trying to use it as an excuse to expel the boy from Hogwarts.
In fact the only bit of news from this that wasn't entirely terrible was that Harry still retained at least a glimmer of consciousness and life in his comatose form, far more than someone who had just had their soul sucked out be a Dementor should have.
Personally Dumbledore had come up with a hypothesis that the soul piece that he suspected was in Harry's scar was what the Dementor had ended up consuming, though it's removal in such a way had damaged Harry's soul in ways Dumbledore knew not, and perhaps irrevocably. That or Harry's soul had been sucked out and the fragment of Voldemort's soul was all that was left, that though was a far less palatable thought. Plus it was also one that he doubted had had happened.
"So then Albus, what's happening? Has there been any change in the boy's state?" Alastor 'Mad-Eye' Moody growled out, the retired Auror speaking up first as the rest of the assembled members just listened in, all of them staring at the venerable Headmaster expectantly.
"Alas there has been no change, he not responded to anything I've done thus far. For now we can only hope that this coma is only temporary and that he will eventually awaken." Dumbledore replied softly.
Already he had tried everything he could think of, using his considerable knowledge of even the most complicated, esoteric and archaic of magicks to try and salvage the boy's soul. Thus far however everything he had done had ended in failure, so pressing was his desire to have the boy up and about that he had even strayed into Dark Magic to try and bring him back, delving into topics he had not touched upon in decades, not since his youth.
"So that's it, we just wait and see?" Sirius Black asked hollowly, his pale, gaunt face devoid of emotion as he looked to Dumbledore for answers. "My godson is lying upstairs as little more than a hollow shell and we're just to sit around here and wait? Whilst he's rotting away up there we just wait around and do nothing, really?! Are you really serious Dumbledore!?"
"I'm afraid there is little else we can do. I have done everything I can think of to help Harry. But this case is one that has never happened before, or not that I've heard of, so I am afraid there is very little knowledge on what can be done." Dumbledore replied calmly, he understood Sirius's grief and anger he really did, the man had been requesting that his godson be brought to Grimmauld Place ever since summer had started, but Dumbledore had denied him. He had ensured him the boy was safer with his relatives, and then this happened.
"Albus," Kinglsey Shacklebolt spoke up in his usual deep voice. "When will we be informing the Ministry of what happened? Already they are pushing to have the boy expelled for his failed attempt at the Patronus Charm."
"I think getting expelled from school is the least of the boy's worries." Moody growled, before he looked over to Dumbledore.
"I am maintaining hope that something can be done for him before the hearing takes place." Dumbledore said quietly, before he looked around at the rest of the table. "And if not then I will have no choice to tell them what happened and why he can't be present."
"Why not just tell them now, his condition is proof enough he was attacked by Dementors isn't it? Just tell them what happened and then request help from the Department of Mysteries or St Mungos, or something." Nymphadora Tonks spoke up this time, looking to Dumbledore in confusion now, uncertain as to why he was dithering about like he was in regards to making what happened to Harry known.
"The thought of doing so had crossed my mind Tonks." Dumbledore replied calmly. "But I'm afraid Harry, although comatose, is not entirely soulless as a victim of the Dementors should be. The Ministry will see this as justifiable evidence to deny he was attacked. They could even claim that he put himself in this condition due to his own magic misfiring. They have already made a point of making out that Harry is unstable, it would not be hard for them to twist this even more to their advantage. On top of that I am loath to advertise what has happened to Harry, I dread to think what Voldemort will do when he learns of it, or the Department of Mysteries for that matter."
"So that's it then, we just do nothing. We just wait and see?" Sirius growled impatiently, his eyes flicking upstairs for a moment, before he sighed and started drumming his fingers.
Dumbledore sighed as he heard Sirius once again complaining about being so powerless. Before he could reply to the man though he was interrupted by the sound of shouting coming from upstairs, which was soon followed by the thunder of people running down the stairs and the portrait of Mrs Black in the hall waking up and screaming her usual obscenities.
"What on earth?" Molly Weasley finally spoke up, standing as she did so, her red rimmed eyes narrowing as she heard whoever had run down the stairs reach the door to the kitchen and throw it open. "We're in a meeting, you know you are not allowed in here!"
The culprits though didn't look bothered by the Weasley matriarchs words though, as instead her youngest daughter, Ginny, burst into the room, followed closely by her brothers, Fred, George and Ron, all of whom began talking at the same time. Their voices overlapping to make an incoherent, unintelligible racket, made worse by the still screaming portrait of Mrs Black.
"Enough!" Dumbledore said loudly, as he and the rest of the assembled members at the table looked to the four teenagers irritably, including their mother and father both of whom looked positively irate. Upon hearing his command though, all four of them fell silent. "Now, can someone please explain what is going on?"
"Harry's woken up!" George was the first to speak.
"Yeah just now, Ginny was sitting with him when she heard him let out a groan and start moving, we left Hermione with him!" Fred tagged on quickly, the twins having been so excited by what had happened that both of them had forgotten that they could apparate as they instead full on sprinted down from the room Harry was being kept in, their younger brother and sister following along behind.
"Well he's not you know properly awake yet, but he was moving around and groaning, and he has opened his eyes a little…" Ginny began, though she didn't have a chance to finish because already the adults at the table were moving. Sirius bolting up immediately, ignoring his mother's screaming as he instead sprinted passed the four red heads and up the stairs to the hall.
The others were not much slower, Dumbledore quickly striding after Sirius, his robes swirling as Moody, Molly and Arthur Weasley, Tonks, Snape, Shacklebolt and several other Order members followed along behind him. Dumbledore barely even pausing as with a single swish of his wand he froze Mrs Black's painting and all of the other paintings in the entrance hall, silencing them as he instead quickly headed for the room Harry was in. The four teens tagging along too.
( - )
(Several minutes earlier)
Harry was alive. That much he knew.
His body was stiff, his limbs were aching, his stomach was growling with hunger, and his head was throbbing with pain, but he was alive.
More than that though he was lying on something comfortable, and had something warm draped over the top of him.
Blearily forcing his eyes open, Harry was surprised to see, not the grim stone roof of his cell like he expected, but instead a peeling, slightly dirty, cream coloured ceiling. One that looked oddly familiar.
Blinking his eyes as they felt a little gummed up, Harry let out a groan as he tried to sit up, only for his aching, stiff muscles to burn in protest.
In response to that though, he heard a sudden sharp intake of breath from the side, which was followed by something with vibrant red hair filling his vision, even as warm soft hands started touch his face.
Before Harry could question what on earth was happening, or properly clear his gummed up eyes and squint so he could see what the red blur was, or rather who it was, he was distracted when he heard a female voice, obviously the blur was a girl, shouting something unintelligible.
What followed next was a barrage of noise as more blurred shapes burst into the room, and more voices started shouting out, even as a few moments later several of them disappeared, their loud voices fading as if they were running away.
'What on earth is happening?' Harry thought to himself in confusion. Was he hallucinating? Had his mind finally snapped? And what the hell was wrong with his eyes, had the procedure he had undertaken to correct his vision somehow failed all of a sudden, or had the continual darkness of 'the Pit' caused permanent damage?
Honestly he didn't have a clue what the hell was happening.
What he did know though was that another blurred brown shape had taken the place of the red one, and was now holding his hand tightly, her voice, which was becoming more and more distinct by the second, was speaking quickly to him. Even as more voices approached, until finally another larger figure burst into the room, followed by nearly a dozen more.
"Harry!" The man gasped out, his tone obviously one of shock and affection, even if Harry couldn't quite place the voice. "You're awake, you're ok!" He then continued before he ran to Harry's side and gripped his arm tightly.
"Sirius step aside!" Another voice, this one much more familiar, though no more confusing as Harry knew for a fact that the man this voice belonged too was long dead, spoke up. "Harry, Harry can you hear me?"
"Dumbledore?" Harry rasped out in confusion, trying to sit up again now, only for the blurred white haired figure to push him back down.
"Yes it's me Harry. Somebody pass me his glasses." Dumbledore replied calmly, though his voice held the tone of relief in it.
A few moments later Harry felt someone carefully wiping the sleep out of his eyes, before something was pushed onto his face, after which his blurred vision cleared slightly. Which was handy as it allowed him to look around his old bedroom in Grimmauld Place, a bedroom which was currently host to nearly a dozen people, most of whom Harry knew were dead.
Sirius Black, Dumbledore, Moody, Tonks, Snape, Molly and Arthur Weasley and Fred and George Weasley, just being some of the more obvious examples. Others he saw, like Ron Weasley, Ginny Weasley and Hermione Granger, he knew were still alive, only now they looked much younger, very much like they did when they were teenagers at school together.
"W-what's going on?!" Harry rasped out, his usually pristine mind a complete mess as he looked around at all the familiar faces, all of whom, much to his surprise, were beaming at him, even Shacklebolt, a man Harry knew for a fact hated him. Save of course for that git Snape who was just looking at Harry with distaste, but then again that was no surprise they had always had a mutual hatred of each other.
"Harry, you're awake." Dumbledore said warmly, the others all quieting down to let him speak as he perched himself on the side of Harry's bed. "Now tell me, what is the last thing you remember?"
"…" Harry paused as he heard that, his green eyes flickering around all the hopeful and nervous faces around him, his mind suddenly moving a mile a minute as he tried to make sense of everything that was happening. "I… I don't know. I don't know what's happening? Why am I in bed? Why are you all here? I… I…"
"It's okay Harry, just calm down and relax. For now you need to rest, then after that I will explain everything to you." Dumbledore replied calmly, his blue eyes twinkling as he smiled down at Harry, his smile far warmer than Harry had ever remembered it. After all Dumbledore he had known had been distant at best, only speaking to Harry when he wanted something. With Dumbledore unlike so many others having never quite fully trusted Harry, and he had certainly never held Harry in as positive a light as he seemed to right now.
"O-okay." Harry eventually replied, his voice coming out a bit thick as he looked around at all the eager faces around him. He had no idea what in hell was going on right now, but what he did know was that he was no longer in Azkaban, which was something at least.
( - )
AN: So what did you all think? Did you enjoy it? It was pretty interesting to write.
That being said I can't say for sure what will happen with this story, thus far it is a tester chapter so to speak. One I am playing around with because I like the ideas in it, plus I have recently read several alternate reality stories and fancied having a go, only adding my own twist and taking it in what I feel will be a completely different way.
After all usually people have a good, often war torn, Harry, or Auror Harry, appearing in an AU Potter world. Now those stories are fun. But I wanted to see what it would be like to bring a darker, bad Alternate Universe Harry to the canon world, and then see what happens. Plus this will be a Harry that doesn't know everything that will happen, he's aware of somethings but also unaware of things like Voldemort's Horcruxes etc. as he was not in the know and also not 'Dumbledore's boy'.
This Harry being one who was not mistakenly put in prison for crimes he didn't' do, or because he was betrayed by his friends. Instead he was put in prison for crimes he did indeed commit, and for betraying his friends. Kind of a role reversal from the usual.
Plus it finally allowed me to do a darker character, as usually my characters are more grey or morally ambiguous. This Harry though is a darker, more selfish character. So I suppose you can take this as a warning, my MC will act like a dick or a wanker every now and then. He'll be selfish at times and callous at others. Basically he'll be a bit of a selfish, dishonuorable bastard that is sometimes not very likable.
On the other hand he will have sides to him. He will be very flawed but he won't pure evil, or a moustache twirling villain, or a complete unrelenting dick. He will have moments of decency, and is not an inhuman arsehole or kills for the sake of killing or inflicts pain because it's fun. But still he will be very much all for one, as oppose to one for all.
This is a warning for people who don't like complex characters with multiple sides to their personalities, and who have obvious character flaws. Harry will be dark, he will be a bit of an arsehole at times, and he won't pull his punches. I will be aiming for realisim with this story, or at least as realistic as one can make a fantasy story, like with my other stories.
Also in terms of pairings I have literally no idea, I'm open to suggestions but won't be committing to anythign for sometime.
But yeah anyway I hope you all enjoyed the chapter and leave a review.
Also please check out my other stories, I will get onto updating them all now I've got this little plot bunny off of my chest.
Thanks for reading.
Greed720.
