[I own nothing in the Harry Potter franchise, all such content belongs to J.K. Rowling.]

Azkaban Prison, Summer Holidays, 1995.

The air outside is cold, unnerving, and filled with swarms of dementors guarding this place. But after weeks of being locked up, due to a most unfortunate misunderstanding at the conclusion of the Triwizard Tournament, Harry's managed to endure. It certainly helps to know that, regardless of the constant toll of being around these dementors, his sentence is only until September's end.

Thanks to heated debates and arguments on Harry's behalf, he'll be out in a couple of months. In the meantime, Dumbledore's crash course on Occlumency (from the final week of June) is Harry's best hope at keeping himself mentally intact. That, and knowing that he's innocent, both work to keep him from losing his mind in here.

Although his wand has recently been snapped by Umbridge back in June, Harry stands firm in his belief that Dumbledore will set things right. The Headmaster has promised that he'll work with the others to revoke Harry's expulsion, and to resolve the issue of the latter's wand.

BANG!

Harry sits up on his hard bed after a stone hits the bars in his cell's doorway. If not for this woman coming to taunt him again, he would've taken off his black robes and stepped into the shower already.

"Still hanging in there, baby Potter? Would be a shame if you went crazy before my Lord kills you."

"You're worried about me going crazy?" Harry lets out a loud, mirthless laugh. "Joke of the day."

"Someone's getting meaner..." The woman puts on her horrible mock-baby voice again. "Aww, the wittle boy fort he could just relax fwoughout his stay in Azkaban. But he doesn't wealize how the dementors are affecting him. Will he bweak before they let him out?"

"At least I'm getting out of here soon. Too bad you're stuck in here for life, shame."

She bangs her fist to the cell's bars before grinning wickedly at Harry. "Oh no no no no, He will come for us soon, and then your days will be numbered."

Feigning a yawn, Harry stands up from the bed. "Hope you enjoy being his second favourite, not favourite... but second favourite."

"Shut up, you silly little Half-Blood boy!"

"Silly Pureblood lady."

"Pelt the Half-Blood!" She throws a stone at Harry, who swiftly evades before returning fire.

"Got a thing for Half-Blood Slytherins, eh? Do we turn you on, baby Bella?"

"Wait until I get through these bars, boy, then you'll see."

"Are you trying to make me mental by repeating yourself all the time? Boo-hoo oh I'm so scared of the evil lady threatening me." Harry places his hands on his hips while staring at the snarling Bellatrix.

"I wouldn't be so smart-mouthed if I were you, boy. You're not looking the same as when you came in. Filthy Half-Blood's getting a bit thinner, and he's got dark circles around his stupid eyes."

"And you look all messed up already."

"And you look all dead already. Dead from when the Dark Lord comes to kill you."

"Ugh, same topic again, let's talk about something else." Harry walks towards the small window overlooking the island. "Oh look, weather's all dark and gloomy as usual outside. Why don't you go take a swim in the ocean, hmm?"

"Why don't you go drown in the ocean, hmm?"

"Shouldn't you be heading back to your cell?"

"Shouldn't you be dead?"

"Go away, Bellatrix."

"Go die, Potter."

Harry now looks over Bellatrix's shoulder to see a dementor gliding along the corridor. With a sarcastic wave of his hand, he sees Bellatrix glaring at him before she turns around to head back down the corridor. Her footsteps can be heard pattering along the ground as she descends the distant spiralling staircase, en route to her cell.

Although the dementor may have chased Bellatrix away from Harry, the latter now finds himself succumbing to its effects. He knows they're forbidden from giving the Kiss to anyone not attempting to escape, but Harry still battles to clear his mind.

The room feels even colder than usual, its fortified walls covered in a thin layer of ice as the dementor draws nearer. But then it turns around to glide away, seemingly aware that Harry's no longer worth any positive emotions or thoughts. Indeed, he uses his basic understanding of Occlumency in combination with focusing on bad thoughts to deny the dementor its meal.

Instead of Sirius, the girls, Hermione, or anything else that may cheer him up, Harry thinks only of how he failed to save Pansy's cousin at the graveyard. He thinks of the unfairness of being seen as a murderer, due to the fact that his wand showed the Avada Kedavra being used. Yes, he's certainly used it at the end of the Tournament, but he knows it was against Voldemort's one before the Priori Incantatem effect took place.

While lying on his bed, Harry blocks out any sweet memories of Fleur from last year and instead thinks about the Dursleys laughing at him. Images of how they're sitting around the dining table celebrating their 'freak' being gone flashes through his mind. Constant thoughts such as these certainly do take their toll on him, and more than once does Harry feel a surge of guilt and despair.

But he's innocent and he knows it, a thought much like his godfather recalls clinging to during his time here.

There is absolutely nothing to do except dwell on past thoughts in this prison. Now Harry begins to understand just how some lose their minds within weeks. Fortunately, he's managed to keep himself going for over a month already, even past his fifteenth birthday. Never before would he have guessed at ever spending such a day in Azkaban, of all places. He can but only pace around the room, look out its window, or lay upon his bed to pass the minutes by.

The occasional meal is delivered by a dementor, who simply slips a sealed container through the room's bars. With his long list of hardships endured, Harry knows that the dementors would prefer him (their rich food source) to be kept alive. Each time dozens and dozens of dementors make their way past the exterior of his room, Harry feels them siphoning out anything positive.

"How much longer?" he asks while groaning, as he looks to barely see the skies darkening even more outside. This is usually a good indicator of night approaching, and therefore another day having passed by. "Gonna kill Voldemort one day... gonna kill him one day... must kill Tom someday..."

The damp, hardened ceiling above now fades to darkness as Harry closes his eyes to get another night's sleep. Now the onslaught of bad memories begins again as his Occlumency begins to fade. Screams, begging, laughter, a flash of green, another flash of green... they all come pouring back as Harry rolls around to try and force himself to sleep. To pass some more hours by in this terribly boring, horrible place where he certainly doesn't belong.

Another morning arrives as Harry wakes up drenched in icy cold sweat. In keeping with his usual routine, he climbs out of bed to pick up a stone. This is followed by etching another line into the wall beside his bed as a rudimentary means of keeping track of time. Forty-five strokes so far shows that he's essentially at the halfway mark of his three month sentence.

"Hopefully the days will go faster from here on out," he says to himself, while standing on his bed and leaning against the wall. Another basic meal delivered serves as breakfast which he wolves down ravenously before heading towards the window. Looking out, he battles to ignore the swarms of dementors outside while watching the rough waves of the stormy sea. More negative thoughts now steadily flash through his mind while Harry tries to shut off the good, to stave off giving the dementors happiness to feed upon. But he hardly has any control over the many scenarios and voices now going through him.

In reality, Harry turns around and walks towards his bed but what grabs his attention is of Dudley chasing and bullying him. Yet another scenario of fleeing back at primary school echoes through his mind as Harry sits over the edge of his bed, staring towards the shower ahead.

"You stupid freak, Potter, your mum and dad died in a car crash because they got drunk."

They're only words of his distant past, and Harry refuses to let them get the best of him. As the minutes pass by, he leans forward with head in hands as the dementors outside continue to exert their influence over him.

"You're never going back to that school... never... and if you try and magic yourself out — they'll expel you!"

"I'm already expelled," mutters Harry dryly, while answering the old words of Uncle Vernon going through his head. "What more can they do?"

If there was a clock in this cell, Harry reckons he'd hear tick-tock all day long which would've certainly been annoying. He sits... and he sits... then he stands up to pace around the room while still stuck in his thoughts. Black, grey, rock, stone, brick... these are basically most of what he sees all day long.

"Boring, boring, boring, boring," says Harry, while sighing as he walks around the room with constant echoes of the past plaguing him. These include memories of years back, when his very first friend at Hogwarts was found petrified in the library. Worst of all is remembering how senselessly rude he'd been towards Hermione for months on end, and yet she's always been there for him.

"You can act all rude and condescending, 'Mister Slytherin', but I still see that little lonely train compartment boy."

Hermione's voice brings a smile to Harry, before he swiftly tries forgetting about it. But it's too late as the dementors feed off his moment of happiness, causing him to grasp at his head and nearly shout. Eventually, they do stop their attacks, leaving him to fall back and lay atop his bed while looking at the ceiling.

Minutes? Hours, perhaps? The day carries on as Harry stares up while overwhelmed in auditory flashbacks. No doubt the dementors are thoroughly influencing him now as they circle outside the prison.

"He's obviously the Heir of Slytherin... because he's in Slytherin!" Harry finds himself yet again thinking back to second year.

"Harry Potter's a cheating, no-good Champion looking for glory! Doesn't he have enough fame or is he so desperate for attention?" More voices sound that he just can't seem to stop in his head now.

"Viktor Krum is a far better player than Potter, really. My father even says so too, and I'm inclined to agree."

"Shut up," mutters Harry to himself, while trying to focus his thoughts through the barrage of voices in his head. "Shut up, shut up, just shut the hell up already."

"You're a freak, boy, the things you sometimes do are all abnormal! Why can't you be more like Dudley over there? Why can't you be normal? Petunia, why isn't this boy normal?"

"It's just voices, dementors messing with my head..."

"Dudleykins is going to Smeltings, and you... you're going to Stonewall. That's where you belong."

"I'm not listening to these voices, I don't care..." Harry battles against the presence of dozens of dementors still circling his cell from the outside.

"You're abnormal, Pot—"

But what would've been Dudley's friend, Piers Polkiss', voice now gradually fades to something else. Like a distant, old record being played in his head, Harry hears the faintest of little children's voices.

"You're abnormal! What are you doing over there, Tom? Stop it!"

"The hell?" Harry jolts up in bed while appearing quite bewildered. "That never happened to me before. Friggin dementors are really screwing with my head."

On and on do the voices keep on playing in his mind until Harry finally gets a grip on himself. Using what's been taught to him, he clears his thoughts and empties his emotions once more. Now the memories and voices begin to fade out until he's left with the silence of the room. All that's heard are the waves of the stormy seas outside.

The same routine carries on as it's soon his evening meal before Harry takes a cold shower, then, finally, he gets into bed. When the sun (or what little there is here) comes up, he marks off another day which passes by agonizingly slow. Then it's the same pattern yet again and again and again as more days are marked off on the wall. Eventually, Harry begins to feel a sense of relief (which is soon sucked out by the dementors anyway) as he marks off day 60. Just over a month to go until he's out of this terrible place.

"Better not be getting too excited, Potter, because you'll be dead soon enough. Enjoy your last bit of freedom before then," says Bellatrix, who once again shows up at Harry's doorway around... mid-afternoon?

"Yeah, sure, I'll try not to die too messily."

She laughs coldly at him. "Oh don't worry, the Killing Curse doesn't leave any marks."

"What about this one, huh?" Harry parts his messy bangs to tauntingly flaunt his lightning-bolt scar. "Point blank and this little baby still lives on."

"BE QUIET!" Bellatrix grabs the bars in fury. "You got lucky, somehow! But you won't get lucky again now that He's back."

"Kiss my arse, or isn't that what you do to your boss?"

"I'm going to kill you, Potter."

"He wouldn't appreciate that very much."

"I'll torture you before He kills you then."

"Sounds quite hot, yes?"

"You filthy little Half-Blood scum! Whatever you're thinking will never ever happen, you degenerate insult towards our House."

"Thanks for the compliment, much appreciated." Harry smiles cheekily as the livid Bellatrix paces up and down the corridor outside this room.

"Come on out and we'll see how cocky you really are, pig."

"Cocky? Nah, sorry, I'm not looking to get laid unless you clean yourself up a bit. Might be some potential there though..."

"I meant 'arrogant', or are you really that stupid from being in here? Or maybe you're going crazy?" She laughs triumphantly before Harry scoffs.

"You should know all about that after fifteen years in here. Fifteen years of devotion to your Master whose new favourite is obviously Barty Crouch Jr."

"I TOLD YOU THAT BOY IS LONG DEAD!"

"Oh my God." Harry groans before face-palming himself. "Haven't you been listening to what I've said over and over? His father smuggled him out years back, and after breaking free of the Imperius Curse little Barty sought out the Dark Lord. So while you were in here... I dunno, playing with yourself or whatever... Bartemius was tending to your Master while the Tournament was happening. I'm sure the Dark Lord would appreciate his efforts and the ritual he helped perform in the graveyard more than your fifteen years. Sure, he said you Azkaban people would be 'honoured beyond their dreams'..."

Harry pauses as Bellatrix smiles and laughs most excitedly, while claiming that she is Voldemort's favourite after all.

"... Anyway, I wouldn't put too much faith in what he says—"

"How dare you say that about him, you disgusting Half-Blood!"

"—because he seems like someone who hardly cares about anyone, well, except maybe Barty Jr. for his useful services."

"Lies, lies, lies, lies! Your filthy tongue speaks nothing but lies all over, stupid, animal Half-Blood in our House."

The statement elicits a delightful little laugh from Harry now. "Man, the irony of those words are so bad coming from you. Ever tried saying that in front of your boss?"

"He's nothing like you, baby Potter."

"Oh I dunno, I mean we're both Half-Blood, both from Slytherin House, both Parselmouths—"

"DON'T LIE TO ME!" shrieks Bellatrix.

"Go read the newspapers then and you'll see."

"My Lord has survived near death, boy, and now he's back."

"Sounds familiar... hmm... oh yeah I took a Killing Curse to the face and survived." Harry looks challengingly at Bellatrix as the latter wags her finger at him.

"You think you're so smart and good, don't you? Bah! You don't have the balls to do the things my Lord has done, so don't you dare compare filth like yourself to greatness like him."

"I shot off a very good Avada Kedavra against him, which he struggled against."

"More lies from your silly little tongue. The Killing Curse is unblockable, so nobody 'struggles' against it."

"Well," replies Harry. "When He finally frees you then feel free to ask the Dark Lord all about it."

Bellatrix pauses for a moment before wickedly grinning (yet again). "So, how does it feel to be dumped in here by your Headmaster?"

"Seriously?" Harry nearly laughs. "You think Professor Dumbledore sent me to Azkaban? If anything, he's done his best to ensure I get in and get out as safely as possible. Blame that naive idiot Fudge and his cronies for all this. Nope, sorry, not gonna make me doubt in Dumbledore."

"And you're not going to make me doubt in my Lord."

"Dumbledore's a far better wizard than your Lord," replies Harry smugly. "Nobody beats the Headmaster."

"Where are your all your friends? It's September so they're probably off enjoying the start of school while itty... bitty... baby... Potter is stuck in a cell," says Bellatrix.

"Well you see my friends are probably pissed off at my predicament."

"But everyone in Slytherin is probably awaiting the Dark Lord's arrival. So you're going to be in a lot of danger in the dungeons now, Potter. Assuming you can even get back after most likely being expelled."

"Who says I only have Slytherin friends? In fact, a lot of people in other Houses like me too. Could your Lord manage that when he was in school?"

"SHUT YOUR FILTHY FACE, BOY! SLYTHERIN IS THE BEST HOUSE!"

"Hey I don't disagree with that but I'm just stating the facts." Harry grins tauntingly at Bellatrix now. "I've got Purebloods, Half-Bloods, and Muggleborns on my side. Now that is cool, don't you think?"

"Disgusting."

"Thank you. And I believe the other term you people use is 'Blood traitor', right? Well, I don't think that's a very nice thing to say about certain good families."

"Of course the foolish, soon-to-be dead, baby Potter will ally himself with Mudbloods and Blood traitors, you'll all be dead one day. Might as well have a happy time before the Dark Lord cleans this world."

"Anything else you'd like to discuss, baby Bella?"

"Don't you dare call me that. You will address me properly, boy."

"Deranged Lestrange."

"Rotting Potter."

"The Dark Lord's... second favourite," says a laughing Harry.

"I'm his favourite! Nothing you say and no amount of lies will change that. HAHAHA! And you're Dumbledore's little dog, aren't you, Potter?"

"At least he cares about his people, unlike You-Know-Who-Doesn't-Give-a-Damn. Oh, I think it's time for you to head back to your cell. Nice chatting to you again, Miss Lestrange." Harry sees a dementor now coming to force Bellatrix back to her cell (at least one floor below Harry's).

"You're going to die, going to diiiie!" sings Bellatrix as she walks down the corridor towards the staircase.

"Crazy witch."

Harry laughs before sitting down and reminding himself that Bellatrix is just a crazier, taller, older, and deadlier version of Pansy Parkinson. Or at least that's how he sees this woman. But he swiftly tries taking his mind off Pansy before the dementors leech this sense of affection. Between Pansy, Hermione, Ginny, and Fleur, Harry finds himself constantly needing to clear his mind of positive thoughts. As the long, terribly dull days pass by, he wonders how three of them are getting on at school, and what Fleur might be doing these days.

Tossing and turning in his bed seems to be the norm for Harry at night, as the dementors outside take advantage of the lulled mind. He reckons it's a good thing that his cell's been soundproofed, for Harry's had more than a few nightmares in here. Terrible flashbacks of the girl dying before his eyes in the graveyard cause him quite a few sleepless nights. The worst part being just how close they'd come to actually escaping, before Crouch Jr. finally got Alyssa Parkinson with the Killing Curse.

"You tell them I got a shot on Lord Voldemort himself."

Her voice echoes in Harry's mind as he tries to shut his eyes in this cold, dark room he's confined to.

Slowly, but surely, time moves on as Harry marks off more strokes on his wall to track the days. It's the same routine again and again and again every single day as he eventually marks off sixty-nine, seventy, seventy-one... It has to be around the second week of school, and Harry's expulsion would be glaringly obvious now.

He can only imagine how delighted the other Slytherin boys are, namely Theodore Nott. For the latter has always tried (and failed) to have Pansy Parkinson for himself. But without Harry's presence around, the latter wonders how the heartbroken girl would be coping. First her cousin and now Harry himself, two friendly faces gone in the same year.

There has also been a new arrival in Azkaban, a Sturgis Podmore, who's now kept locked up under close watch by the dementors. Close enough that, unlike Bellatrix who occasionally slips out, he cannot seem to get a word in with Harry.

"Hey, Potter-corpse," calls Bellatrix from Harry's bars one afternoon. "Don't you ignore me, stupid thing."

"Come to pest— I mean 'chat' with me again? What does baby Bella have to say?" Harry stands up from his bed before walking to the centre of his room.

"Even your pal, Dumbledore, is having people turn on him these days, hahaha!"

"The hell are you talking about?"

"You don't know?" Bellatrix adopts another wicked grin. "He doesn't know? The little wittle baby doesn't know about his stupid old man's foolish army? Never heard of the Order, boy? Order of the Phoenix, that is. Idiots who dare defy us Death Eaters and our Lord... no wonder so many of them got taken out before you were born."

Truth be told, Harry recalls having heard a brief description of this 'Order' from Moody last year, but he decides to act ignorant now.

"So... Dumbledore had his own private army against you all?"

"That's what I just said! Damn, Potter, you really are getting more stupid in here by the day."

"So why are you telling me all this?"

"Because that Podmore guy was probably one of Dumbledore's dogs, like you. Oh, but he decided to try and break into the Ministry somewhere, or so I've heard them say as they brought him in. You and your old man are running out of friends nowadays..."

"Well at least I've got one friend here in Azkaban," says Harry, while smiling at the scowling Bellatrix.

"Friend? Bah! I just enjoy talking to a soon-to-be dead boy. Make him realize the foolishness of daring to defy the Dark Lord."

"Well, if you're expecting me to switch sides and join up with you lot then that's not gonna happen. I'm the Dark Lord's number one enemy, remember?"

"Don't worry," says Bellatrix in a cold, sadistic tone. "I'll be sure to bury your corpse under a big statue to commemorate our mighty Dark Lord who's killed you."

"Oh that's so very kind of you, ma'am. Nice to know I won't be thrown in a bin or something," replies Harry calmly.

"Ha! Don't tempt me to do just that one day. Or maybe I'll string you up as decoration somewhere."

"Yeah? Well keep my clothes on because I'd rather my broomstick not show to the world, thanks."

"Oh please, probably not much to see there anyway, stupid boy."

"Wanna look?"

"Don't you dare! Half-Blood scum."

"Just kidding."

Harry gives another sarcastic wave as Bellatrix is forced to return to her cell downstairs. Meanwhile, the former begins enduring another round of dementor-induced flashbacks. This time, they hit hard and fast as various voices swarm through his mind while he lays on his bed.

"You're a disgrace, boy! An abnormal boy who's got no future, unlike Dudley over here..."

"Proud of your parents, are you? They go and get themselves killed in a car crash, drunk, I expect..."

"I'm telling the matron what you're doing, Tom, you're doing weird things! Stop it!"

"You look right like him. Riddle. But he's older now, in 'e? He's older'n you, now I think on it. ..."

"I need to get out of this prison already," mutters Harry to himself, unsure of why the dementors are causing some unknown voices to surface in his head. "Need to get out... gotta hold on just a few more weeks..."

Seventy-six, seventy-seven, seventy-eight, seventy nine, eighty...

As the final days of his sentence nears, Harry runs his hands through his hair and can only wonder what he looks like now. It hardly helps that Bellatrix keeps poking fun at his 'degraded' appearance whenever she stands at the bars.

"They've abandoned you, boy, thrown you away in here to look like rubbish."

"The very best kind of rubbish, Bella."

"Address your superiors properly, Half-Blood pig."

"I dare you a thousand Galleons to say that to the Dark Lord."

"Go to hell, Potter."

"Wanna come with me?"

"You already look like hell anyway, boy."

Eat, pace around, dwell on bad memories, swap insults, sleep... Harry's routine stays pretty much the same as he enters the last ten days of imprisonment.

Eighty-one, eighty-two, eighty-three, eighty-four...

Now time seems to be speeding up for Harry, and the dementors rapidly feed off him as much as possible. Whatever he's learnt from Dumbledore is truly put to the test over these arduous few days as voices flood him yet again.

"You'll never amount to anything but a drunk, Potter."

"Better not try to drive a car or else you'll end up like your parents."

On the afternoon of Harry's final day in Azkaban, he stands with a smile before his prison bars.

"Three months of boredom finally at an end! You jealous, lady?"

Once again standing in the corridor outside, Bellatrix scoffs. "The Dark Lord will free his loyal servants, and then you'd better enjoy the last of your life."

"Yeah, I guess I'll have to go around grabbing my share of witches, eh?"

She almost laughs before replying. "Better grab 'em all while there's still time. Tick-tock, the clock's ticking for you, baby Potter."

"I'll be honest, it was fun meeting and speaking with you, baby Bella." He grins mischievously as she narrows her eyes at him "And don't forget what I said about Barty Jr. being the favourite."

"For your sake, Harry Potter, you'd best drop that horrendous nickname. Baby Bella... couldn't you at least have thought up something better?"

"Sorry, guess I have gotten dumber in this place."

Bellatrix laughs before replying. "Well, at least you've noticed the obvious. You look like hell after just three months though."

They both spot numerous dementors gliding down the corridor followed by familiar faces.

"Well, look who's here to come and fetch their pwecious wittle godson. How do you do?"

A loud gasp echoes from the corridor, which Harry immediately recognizes as Sirius.

"WHAT'S SHE DOING OUT OF HER CELL? GET HER BACK INSIDE ALREADY! GODDAMMIT! Are you telling me this witch has been messing with Harry all this time?"

"Oh relax, idiot. We've just been talking and exchanging insults. Very interesting boy you've got here—"

"That's quite enough," says the voice of Moody, who Harry sees as being joined by a startled Tonks.

"—oooooh, first baby Potter and now Andromeda's girl? Is the whole family here? Heard you're some up-and-coming Auror now, Nymphadora, pfft."

Cornelius Fudge can now be heard ordering the dementors to take Bellatrix away and secure her cell. As she's being led away, her voice echoes down the corridor.

"...see you soon, baby Potter, see you soon! Hahahaha!"

Before he can respond, Harry sees his cell opened before Sirius sprints in to hug him tightly.

"Harry! I'm so sorry you had to go through all this. So sorry! Look at you now, so thin and... and your face! Did Bellatrix do anything to hurt you? Taunt you?"

"No, but..." Harry pauses to withhold his tears. "Do you have any idea of the irony of this situation? Two years back, when you broke out... had you ever expected to come back in for me?"

"Never, and I can hardly believe my deranged cousin's been harassing you this whole time." Sirius continues to hold his godson close while Tonks stands in the doorway and widens her eyes upon seeing Harry.

"You look horrible, no offence, but you've got to see your face. I just can't believe you actually survived this hellhole." She now joins in on the hug while Moody speaks from the corridor outside.

"Kingsley and I will make sure Lestrange is locked up in her cell. Oh, and I think the Minister would like to have a word with Potter."

"TELL HIM TO PISS OFF!" shouts Harry, who's joined by Sirius also hurling insults down the corridor.

"Now now," says Fudge, as he stands near the distant staircase. "Let's not get overdramatic, okay? You should be grateful that Dumbledore, and everyone else, fought so hard to lower this sentence. Three months is still better than life, right?"

"Let me guess..." Harry exits his cell to stare down the grim-looking Minister. "You still don't believe that the Killing Curse shown by my wand was used on Voldemort?"

The name elicits a gasp of fear before Fudge swiftly replies. "Now see here! There's absolutely no proof of those accusations still. What do you expect to do about all this then, anyway? A fifteen year old boy can't hope to topple the Ministry now, can he? You should know your place in politics, young man, and that place is absolutely nowhere."

"Ha-ha." Harry laughs mirthlessly. "When Voldemort reveals himself... you and your gang will be held responsible for false imprisonment of a fourteen year old. That, in addition to snapping my wand and disrupting what should have been the start of my fifth year of school."

"Yes of course." Fudge now turns to look at the livid Sirius (who's being desperately calmed down by Tonks). "Mr. Black, your godson is free to go, so I suggest you get him cleaned up and all that. Stop by Diagon Alley for whatever he might need."

"SCREW YOU, FUDGE, YOU CAN ROT IN—"

"Sirius!" whispers Tonks loudly. "Just let him go for now."

As Harry, Sirius, and Tonks begin to descend the massive spiralling staircase of Azkaban, they speak in hushed tones.

"Now's your chance to get at that naive fool of a Minister!" says Sirius.

"I'm just a fifteen year old kid, like he said. Not like I'm some supreme political egghead who runs everything. No, we wait until Voldemort returns."

"And then what?" asks Tonks. "I hope you're not planning anything dark and evil... Don't tell me Azkaban has twisted your mind? Are you okay? No, seriously, please tell us you're alright. I mean, I've never really been in here before and I can only imagine the horrors you've had to endu—"

Harry laughs a slight bit. "It's... sort of okay, I guess. Nothing can break me."

"You're a braver man than me, Harry." Sirius holds him close as they near the ground floor of the prison. "Forget that mine was twelve years compared to your three months. You wouldn't believe how terrible it was knowing you were in here and I couldn't do anything. I'm truly sorry for all this."

"Gotta focus on the positives and not dwell on the past like these dementors would want." Harry's expression turns quite stern indeed. "I am gonna sue the hell out of the Ministry for false imprisonment though. It's only a matter of time after Voldemort becomes public knowledge that people will realize I was trying the Killing Curse on him. Can't wait to see my bank balance probably double up then."

After passing through the entrance room, the group exits to stand outside the towering structure. Now Harry sees the Aurors' outpost being decommissioned as the Minister no longer sees it necessary to have them stationed here. Sirius, meanwhile, walks towards Kingsley Shacklebolt standing at the edge of the island while Harry speaks with Tonks.

"Shouldn't we keep your colleagues here?" asks Harry. "Your aunt was mentioning Voldemort coming to free them all one day."

"It's no use." Tonks shakes her head before continuing. "It was bad enough, even in shifts, to be stationed so close to all these dementors. I've had more than a few thoughts of you dying, and Sirius being heartbroken. But now that you're out we can pack up and leave things to the dementors."

"Stupid, stupid idea if you ask me. Because Voldemort mentioned the dementors as being his 'natural allies'. Can't you take that up with your bosses? Or perhaps that Bones lady?" asks Harry.

"Most of the Ministry denies your allegations, Harry. Whatever we argue is just going to get lost in the paperwork and pointless meetings. Maybe they do need a wake-up call after all." Tonks now tries to neaten his (even more than usual) unruly hair with her hands. "So, looks like you've actually met my crazy aunt after all."

"Yeah, I guess I have." Harry looks past Tonks to watch Sirius speaking quite animatedly with an equally concerned Shacklebolt.

"You should've seen Sirius over the last three months back home. Even with the Order all coming to plan and visit, he was like a broken man. It really wasn't nice to see him trying to act brave when we all knew you're scared and alone in this hellhole," says Tonks.

"I can imagine," mutters Harry, before Tonks carries on speaking.

"And he wasn't the only one, you know. Everyone's mood was low, even those funny Weasley twins weren't at their happiest over the holidays. Ginny tried to act brave but she was clearly worried about you, and poor Molly was in constant tears. I'm not even going to mention Hermione, no, she was just... lemme just say that you've got a lot of people caring about you, little Slytherin."

"Well, it's over. It's finally over and done with now. When I kill Voldemort one day I'm going to remember these terrible three months as I deliver a nice, big, fat, Avada Kedavra to him."

Sirius now comes rushing over to speak.

"The Ministry's not going to bother stationing anyone out here after you're gone, Harry. I guess Dumbledore could only get everyone to stay this long. Kingsley doesn't trust the dementors at all but we don't have a choice. Let's get out of here and head back home."

"I need to go home indeed, Number 4 Privet that is. I don't care how funny this is for them but that protection needs to stay. Remember that I haven't been there all year so far in '95, and it's already October!" Harry's concerns are soon considered by Sirius.

"Are you sure!? We can head to Grimmauld right now and get you cleaned up."

"I agree with Harry," says Professor Dumbledore himself, who's seemingly Apparated onto Azkaban island. He then swiftly approaches to place his hands on Harry's shoulders. "Are you alright? I can understand if you need to take some time off... although the school year's already well underway."

"The Blood Protection, sir?" asks Harry, to which Dumbledore smiles.

"Nice to see you've considered that. My apologies, Sirius, but I'm going to need Harry to stay awhile at the Dursleys again. I know you'd love to join him but your presence will undoubtedly cause much agitation."

"Idiots," scoffs Sirius. "You'd think after knowing that I've been exonerated they'd stop being so bloody scared of me. Look, Harry, if they give you even the slightest of difficulty..."

"I think you might find your stay a little... different," says Dumbledore to Harry. "Because I've explained to them quite clearly what you've had to endure over these past three months."

"What about my wand? Has it been fixed?" Harry's question elicits a slightly amused look from Dumbledore.

"Wands cannot be repaired, as I'm sure you all know. However, I've consulted with Mr. Ollivander and he's agreed to try something out, so leave it to us."

"Sir." Harry's expression turns quite bitter. "I... I don't know if this will work but there's something I feel that must be done."

"Let's hear it then," says Dumbledore.

"Everyone's accusing me of murdering Alyssa, everyone thinks I'm the next Dark Lord, and I've had to endure Azkaban for such false claims..."

"Not everyone," replies Dumbledore.

"Unfortunately, the Incantato did show your wand casting the Killing Curse after the third task," says Tonks, before Harry continues.

"Could you ask Mr. Ollivander to make my new wand with Fawkes' feather encased in Yew wood?"

"Yew?" Dumbledore appears briefly surprised. "Harry, you do realize who uses a wand like that, correct? And besides, wands don't work that way. You cannot build your own one."

"Please, sir, I just feel that Voldemort's arrogance deserves to be beaten by an identical wand. Priori or not, I'm going to kill him one day."

"I do find it very interesting that you've decided upon such a wand," says Dumbledore quite thoughtfully.

"Fine, just leave it then if it's too much of a hassle."

"He's nuts," laughs Tonks. "Wands choose the wizard, Harry, or haven't you been listening?"

"You wanna go around with a wand like Voldemort's?" asks Sirius. "Well if that's what it'll take to beat that son of a bitch then have at it!"

"It's worth a try," says Dumbledore. "Alright, I believe it's time for us all to leave this wretched island. Hope you enjoy your stay at the Dursleys, Harry."

"It should be getting dark now, lemme take you back to your Muggle family," says Tonks. "And I'll stick to this look now. No need to turn into a buff dude to scare them tonight, right?"

"Yep, so, side-along Apparition, eh? Alright then." Harry now holds Tonks' warm hand and smiles, for anywhere is surely better than Azkaban prison, right?