The Sentence

"Name." The gruff voice said.

"Harry Potter."

"Date of Birth."

Harry took that to mean his birthday, which was a few days ago. "July 31."

The man waited, as if Harry was supposed to say something else. Harry looked to the man who had been following him around ever since he had woken up in the hospital a few days back. He actually kind of liked the man who dressed in fancy clothes and always had a strong smell of perfume. But he knew that the man was not genuinely interested in him, it seemed to be his job to follow Harry around.

"How old are you, Harry?" Another reason why he liked the man, he called Harry by his name.

He still found the question a bit odd, but he answered nonetheless. "I turned nine a few days ago."

The man nodded and turned to the surly looking man standing by the door of the impressively white room. "So, 1980…"

"Place of residence." Harry looked to the guy he liked again. Today, he wore a fancy blue suit and smelled like the car freshener that Uncle Vernon used to buy. He called himself an "aturny".

"He means-Euh! A residence is where you live, Harry." He said, obviously agitated. Harry knew it was not directed at him, because the 'aturny' turned to the man with the folder and papers. "Honestly Gram, like the kid knows what a 'residence' is!"

The gruff man, who reminded Harry vaguely of a skinnier version of Uncle Vernon, shrugged his broad shoulders slightly and gave Harry a hard look. Harry had seen that look many times.

After he woke up at the hospital, several of the nurses and doctors had spoken to him and had given him the very same look. I wonder what it means.

"Well, now you know what a residence is!" It seemed like a threat for some odd reason. Harry bristled like an angry cat.

"Yes, I do." The words were spoken in a deep tone not normally associated with a nine-year-old. Both men looked at him in surprise, and another, more interesting, emotion. Harry knew it well: fear.

The snippy man looked Harry over deeply. "Are you sure that that psycho test of yours is rig-."

"Just finish the questions!" Harry smiled softly at the gruff man who was taken aback by the tone of the 'aturny'.

He carried on his questioning with a monotonous voice that did not belie the anger Harry could see on his face. The 'aturny' sighed and rubbed his eyes.

"School."

"Whinging Elementary."

"Parents," asked the man, almost provokingly. The man in the fancy suit looked at Harry nervously, almost as if expecting him to blow up.

Harry did not see any reason why he should. They died before he could get a chance to know them. He would have liked to know them, but that was impossible. Besides, the Dursleys said they died, drunk, in a car crash, and were the worst type of people. That, to Harry, naturally meant that his parents died in a courageous act and that they were amazing individuals.

"Dead." Harry said as if he had been asked any ordinary question. The gruff man flipped to a different paper almost in disappointment.

"Hmm, I'm going to need the Guardianship forms then… Guardians'-."

"None." Both men looked to him. A smile of tugged at his lips at the look of disbelief on the attorney's face.

"Don't interrupt me, boy!" The smile on the Harry's face disappeared.

The only thing that went through his mind then was the sound of Uncle Vernon's voice over the years. It screamed 'boy' again and again. Harry's heart began to beat a bit faster. The only of his uncle's voice was slowly replaced by the sound of a voice he had only heard once before. It was his own, though colder, without feeling, and not entirely under his control.

"My name is not 'boy'."

"Harry, refrain from tal-." The fancy dressed man said harshly.

"No, let the boy go on." The crotchety man said approaching the table at which Harry and the attorney man sat.

He approached them slowly until he was face-to-face with Harry. Harry trembled a bit. A bolt of fear and something else flew through him. It was something he had felt before. It grew hot and seemed to flow through his very veins. Horrible thoughts pulsed through his head and every bad thing that he ever experienced flashed before him.

He grew unbelievably angry. Before the rage completely took over his mind, he remembered feeling that exact way when Uncle Vernon had finished beating him.

The man suddenly spun his chair around, and he moved his hand quickly, hitting Harry on the back of the head, making his head fly sideways into the table. Harry did not feel the pain, but he felt the feeling flowing through him as he imagined lava would from a volcano.

Harry's attorney yelled something at the man. He stood and moved as if to help Harry, but Harry darted forward like a panther in attack.

With lightening speed and snake-like precision, he wrapped his handcuffed hands around the gruff man's neck, constricting his throat. The chain connecting his hands together was long enough to wrap around the man's neck once, and allow Harry to grasp his own hands and lock the man in.

The man fought tremendously. He hit Harry ferociously; the fancy-dressed man was shouting things at both of them, distressed but also useless and helpless. Harry threw himself against the table and managed to knock the gruff man, now red in the face, to the ground. He found himself on the man's stomach. Harry felt himself smiling, yet he was not causing himself to smile. The man's eyes bulged fearfully, and his hands flailed about him as if they had been stunned useless.

Harry knew he was not in control of himself. It was not a feeling that he enjoyed at all. He did not really want to hurt or kill the man, but he couldn't stop. He had truly hated it the first time that he experienced it. The day that his relatives all died; the day that I killed them

His grip on the man's neck tightened as Harry thoughts drifted to Uncle Vernon. The man beneath him was turning purple and his eyes were turning red.

Harry laughed softly.

The situation really was not in the slightest bit funny. Yet his laughter steadily increased until it was a non-stop, full laugh.

Harry realized that the color of the man's face had matched the colors of the candy that Uncle Vernon accused him of stealing from Dudley - purple and red. This did make the situation slightly funny.

Suddenly, he heard many loud voices around him, shouting and yelling. He felt someone try to tear him off of the man, which only made the situation worse and the chains tighter. Hands were on him everywhere, grabbing and pulling. Harry could not pull himself away. Do I even want to? He's funny looking when he's purple and gasping. He deserved this.

Suddenly, a hand struck him hard in the face. Harry felt the impact and the person's ring cutting deeply into his skin. He did not feel the pain that he expected, and he did not release his hold.

"We're gonna have to-."

There was an odd pause. Even Harry paused in his insane, uncontrolled laughter. Something was placed up to his mouth. It had an oddly sweet smell. The world was suddenly and rapidly spinning before his eyes.

There was an odd pull from behind his eyes. He saw only darkness. He felt suddenly calm; the anger left…

When he came to, eerything was bouncing. The up and down movements were enough to make Harry sick. He gently opened his eyes. Someone was carrying him roughly. His first instinct was to move, but years with the Dursleys had taught him to be cautious. He had mastered skill of pretending. He stayed in his limp state, strewn over the person's shoulder.

"-had to cut the damned cuffs just to get him to release the idiot." He knew that voice to be the fancy-dressed man, his attorney.

The man holding Harry chuckled slightly. "And how old is the boy?"

He was beginning to feel the pain from the strike to his face. He bit his tongue to keep from moaning

Harry felt the hot feeling suddenly twitch to life. He mentally begged that it did not come back..

Slowly, his face numbed. It felt as if something cold and soothing was placed upon it. The pain slowly ebbed away to a dull ache. Harry gave a small sigh.

"Nine. Nine." The attorney repeated as if he couldn't believe his own words.

"What!" The man carrying Harry almost dropped him. "Bloody Mary's knickers!"

"I know. I couldn't believe it either." Harry could tell by the man's tone of voice that he had rubbed his eyes.

He had been doing that ever since he met Harry in the hospital. Harry found it a bit funny. Especially when I was talking to the doctor who called himself a mind doctor! They both kept making funny faces when as Harry detailed his living situation at the Dursleys.

The two descended into a brief, thick silence. Harry took the time to have a closer look at his surroundings.

As they proceeded, though it was slightly bouncy, Harry was able to see bars. He saw tons of them. There were things moving behind the bars, like animals at the zoo. Though he had never been to one, he had seen them on the telly.

He squinted, his glasses had been left at his relatives' house, but he could see slightly blurred outlines. There was another pulse within him. There was the feeling of something warm pulsating, drifting across his eyes. The image slowly cleared and soon he was no longer squinting. He was able to suddenly see as if he had a new pair of spectacles on.

But the thought of the miracle was short-lived as he noticed what, or better yet who, were behind the bars.

They're people!

He knew where he was, and in the back of his mind, it seemed understandable. He killed; he was going to jail just like Uncle Vernon always threatened would occur to him when he killed Harry.

Harry laughed softly at the turn of events and nearly gave up his sleeping act.

"I swear! He's mental, this one!" said the man carrying him.

"He's been through a lot. The reports from some of the neighbors paint a long history of child abuse. It's not proven yet, though he pretty much affirmed everything that was said. He-."

"He murdered his family in cold blood! He tried to murder McGraw, and nearly did so, while laughing!" He shook Harry a bit roughly when he emphasized this point.

The man Harry liked gave a sigh. "True. But both times he was provoked. I think he's only a small bloke who grew up too quickly and was pushed too far. Each one of the neighbors said that with their own eyes, they watched as his uncle beating him severely just before the family was murdered. Evidence collected from the house shows that he was neglected, and possibly abused in more ways than one." He said the last part in a mysterious way that Harry didn't quite grasp.

"No! Well, blimey! You can't possibly mean that they sexu-"

"It's not impossible. The evidence is all being processed, accounts from neighbors as well as Harry's account on the matter... This is the case of the decade! It's bigger than the magistrate. I've heard a rumor that the Royal office wants a report of every second of his life from the second he walked into this world and a full-report of everything happening now."

They descended back into silence. From all sides, the inmates shouted out to the three as they passed. They yelled horrible things, and a lot of thing that Harry did not understand but was sure that they were not good.

Harry was wide-eyed as he stared around him. Some of the inhabitants of the cells hissed at him. Most were men, a few were women, but the women all had empty cells around them on both sides, unless it was the cell of another woman. Harry wondered briefly why the women were isolated from the men.

Harry was stretched over the man's shoulders and was able to see everything that they passed without drawing attention to himself. But it was beginning to make his stomach hurt.

A man made a slashing motion across his neck and then pointed to Harry. He made another motion with his fingers that Harry did not understand, but he was sure it was not good. Harry merely looked at him.

"What do you think they are going to do with him?" The man shook himself and switched Harry over to his other shoulder with a grunt. Harry resisted the urge to groan. He had to pee and hadn't eaten yet.

"Even I am not sure." Harry heard the rustle of papers. "Like I said, this is the case of the decade. Anything is possible." He lowered his voice suddenly. "I do believe he will be going to Sirkins, afterwards he could possibly be let free if the abuse is proven."

"And what about McGraw? It's a severe offense to attack a public official. And it can be proven that he attacked McGraw, so don't try to plead that he didn't!" He gave a laugh. "You attorneys will try and pull anything!"

"There were cameras in the room! I almost forgot them. Perhaps, he would have to spend some time here as at Masons as well. It is almost impossible to follow the books on this case."

The inmates were louder to the point that the man carrying Harry had to shout. "But Sirkins is definitely in his future?"

A chill almost instantly went down Harry's spine. He subconsciously stiffened as the inmates, notably all of them being men, went silent and still.

It was purely unnatural. Harry wondered what this 'Sirkins' was. It must have been something utterly terrible to cause criminals to become silenced with fear.

"Most likely," said Harry's attorney, "but this is a triple homicide, with the assault of a public official! He will have to serve some jail time here. But then again, his age..."

Harry stopped listening. He did not understand the words, but he was sure that their meanings could not be good for him.

He knew that he had done a bad thing, the things he did to his Aunt Petunia, Uncle Vernon, and his cousin. But for some reason, he could not feel sorry that he had done it. He knew he should, but he could not. Just like the mind doctor had told him, "It is not something anyone should do. Murdering. And feeling indifferent about it is almost twice as bad as the deed itself."

But what about all of the things they did to him. What about all of the nights he had cried himself to sleep, wishing that the pain from the beatings would be gone in the morning. What about all of the times he was hungry. What about all of the times he was worked until he bled or something broke, and then was punished for not working enough. No one ever said anything about that.

Tears of anger came to his eyes, and his hands balled up into fists. He felt the pulse again. He grew hot with anger. Maybe he had wanted them to suffer and die. Maybe he only regretted that he had not made them scream any longer than they had.

"True. However, I think the judge will shoot for him having to do both." His attorney said sharply.

"Both, why on earth would he do that?" He gave Harry another shake. "Off with his head, I say!" He gave another laugh.

"That is simply out of the question." Harry's attorney sounded genuinely angry. "The true issue here is will the judge be able to convict the boy properly with the public-awareness campaign going on." Harry heard the rustle of papers again. "With all of the scandals and allegations floating in the papers, I don't think the Court wants more unwanted press and publicity on its doorstep."

Harry felt the man carrying him nod. "If anything, they will try to keep this out of the public's knowledge. Either way that they deal with this case, the public will find something wrong."

"And then they will be facing more charges of foul-play and secretive action."

"It's a terrible time for a case like this."

"Damn right! But I hate to think what would have happened if Harry had held the anger inside any longer." His attorney said. Harry had given up attempting to understand everything that was being said. His name being said momentarily grabbed his attention.

"Yeah, his family is one thing, tragic of course, but a classroom full of innocent children would have been a catastrophe." The man carrying him said.

"It could have been anywhere, not just in school, and anyone could have been killed. It makes me think. I wonder if the world is a better place without the likes of his relatives."

They descended into a tensed silence.

"I don't know where I stand, on the kid's issue, but I know that he won't survive a day in here." The man carrying him said switching the subject as the inmates began to chatter, cry, and hiss at them. They all pointed at Harry as if he were on display.

"It's not him I'd be worried about!" His attorney said. "I hope that they don't anger him, wherever they put him... No, it's definitely not him that I'm worried about."

Harry ended his sleeping act after a few more minutes. The aches he received from being tossed over someone's shoulder were too unbearable. The man who had carried him now watched him every step of the way.

They walked him to a blandly painted room. His attorney waited outside and the officers gave him some clothes to wear. Everything was a pale blue, and was laughably large on him. They gave him a silver band too. They laughed and made many jokes about him and his clothes. Harry wanted to cry as the officers paraded him around like a clown from the town's fair. He was angry, but he kept calm to keep the 'pulse' from coming. He did not want to get in any more trouble.

The clothes were coarse and woolen, but Harry's skin was only slightly irritated and stopped itching after an hour or two. He had been in worse, and bigger, clothing. His skin had calloused itself to such items. The band was another story. It was definitely odd. It vibrated for a few minutes, and then it went still, and then later it would start up again. Harry did not dare to ask the officers if the vibrations were normal.

After he had finished, after they were finished with their fun, he was handcuffed tightly again. They took him to what vaguely reminded him of the school's cafeteria and forced him to eat some food. It was the first time that he had eaten it. He was sure that it was anything but good for him, but it was still better than what the Dursleys gave him.

Oh, I miss Mrs. Napleton's cooking. It was the best!

When he was done eating - when the man guarding told him that he was done, he was taken to another room of a pale-wood color. There were pews that reminded Harry of church, but the seats in the front, to which Harry was being lead, were definitely not from a church.

The back of a single chair rose from behind a tall, elevated platform. A level or two down from there, slightly off to the side was a desk sat with a typewriter on top of it. Mountains of paper stood beside the desk in neat stacks, almost as tall as Harry.

On the main floor stood a long, wooden table, separating from the pews by a small fence-like thing, directly to the opposite side of the desk, but nearly right in front of the platform.

He remembered seeing this room on television once before, or one similar to this. A man had murdered someone in their sleep, and they took him into a room like this to tell him how long he would be staying in prison. The man cried when the person in the robes told him he had to stay in prison forever.

Would I have to stay there for the rest of my life too? What about school, and my notes? Do they have school in prison?

He had just sat down when the guy who carried him, forced him to stand back up for fun. His name was Marner. He was a young, tall, fit man with light brown hair cut short. He was 'fresh out of kindergarten' as the other officers said. Harry was not sure what to make of that statement or the man. He gave Harry an odd look every time he looked him in the eyes. It was a look that a predator gave while hunting on those silly cartoons that Dudley used to watch.

The ones he was watching when I sent him through the television! An odd, cold, uncontrolled laugh burst from his lips. He felt the 'pulse'. It wasn't burning, nor was it soothing. It just seemed to hover in his chest, a steady pulsing within him. Harry let it be as it did not seem dangerous. He shook his leg as the silver band began to vibrate again.

He began to notice people entering the room from a door on the side. Harry could not describe the cold faces that they regarded him with. A few of them avoided looking at him as if he could give them a sickness.

A man in robes sailed into the room with a few folders in his hands through a door in the front of the room Harry had not noticed. Everyone stood up when he entered. Harry was pulled once again out of his seat by Marner.

The man, who had entered, was truly an old man, with great agility for the amount of gray in his hair. He wore deep black robes that seemed to swirl around him like a black cloud of knowledge. The judge. He sat at the top of the elevated platform.

Harry watched him in awe.

When the judge sat, everyone else sat. Harry was pushed into his seat by Marner. The pulse burned with life. Harry found himself attempting to bite the hand of the man but only succeeded in nipping a finger. He glared at Harry menacingly.

"You'll pay for that." A smile stretched across Harry's face as Marner snarled.

"We'll see who pays…" Harry said darkly. Those close enough to observe the scene gasped.

The judge took no notice of the scene. Harry was not even sure if he'd noticed Harry at all.

He seemed so wise. A woman sitting to Harry's left spoke excitedly to the man next to her.

"If there was ever an accurate judge, it is Judge Omnis. He's convicted men when the witnesses lied and the evidence proved them to be guilty years later! He is absolutely perfect for this case."

It was pin-drop silent as the man spoke. His voice was powerful, yet sounded somehow bored. "I have reviewed the case from the murder three days ago in which the defendant, nine-year…" Harry tuned out the man's droning voice.

Three days ago! He looked at his hands. The blood had stained the skin underneath his fingernails. He flexed his fingers. He remembered it all as if it had been that very morning: the blood, the screaming, the pleas, and more importantly the pleasure of revenge. It had been almost as if magic was flowing in the air.

The horrible monotonous voice of the judge washed over him once more. "…report which states no mental defects-."

An angry voice exploded from the back of the room. "NO MENTAL DEFECTS! HE'S COMPLETELY MAD IN THE HEAD! GIVE HIM THE CHAIR, THE GUILLOTINE. DO THE JOB YOU ARE BEING PAID TO DO, YOU-."

Harry saw a violent flash in the judge's eyes. "REMOVE HER!" His voice was piercing, it vibrated through the hall menacingly, and Harry winced subconsciously. He never wanted to get on that man's bad side. Perhaps he has a pulse too.

He watched as several men in uniform went to restrain Aunt Marge who was sitting in the back row. "GET OFF OF ME! UNHAND ME YOU IMBECILES!" They could barely get their hand around her enormous arms.

Harry leaned over Marner to his attorney. "Tell them to go after her legs. She has had surgery on them and has issues with them. Otherwise they will be wasting their time and health. She's too strong for them." He returned to his original position and began playing with the handcuffs to distract himself from the looks everyone were giving him, those who had heard him speak at least.

There was so much going on. He had not felt so confused since the time he had gone to the wrong class and sat through a chemistry lesson for the sixth year students.

He believed that he should have told the mind doctor about that pulse. But for some reason, he had kept coming up with reasons why he should not have.

He returned to the scene that was taking place behind him as his instructions were surprisingly being carried out swiftly without his attorney even saying a word. Despite Marge's screaming, Harry's low voice had managed to reach some within the room.

She was in complete hysterics. "I'LL KILL HIM MYSELF! THEY TOOK CARE OF HIM! THEY SHOULD HAVE TOSSED HIS ARSE INTO THE RIVER LIKE I SUGGESTED."

Harry saw his attorney's eyes light up, and he gestured rapidly to a woman at the desk with the typewriter. She nodded slowly and began typing. The judge and everyone else looked at Aunt Marge as though they had misheard her.

Harry was once again confused. He did not understand what the big deal was about what she said. She always says those things! Suddenly, a light went off in his head.

It was then that Harry truly and voluntarily broke any ties he had to his childhood innocence and ignorance. He began to see how the world worked. He knew how to help himself.

In a low, but carrying, voice, and with the pulse's tempo in his ear, he spoke to the struggling woman directly.

"I'm sure that your dogs will miss me, after all I was their favorite chew-toy." The pulse pushed a cold laugh out of him. "Especially Ripper, good name for him too! I don't know how many times he has sent me running up trees." His voice no longer surprised him, but it still scared him a bit.

"HA. IF ONLY THEY WERE IN THIS ROOM, BOY! THEY'D BE PICKING THE MEAT OFF OF YOUR BONES!" She struggled again, but managed to break free from the men this time. "THE COURT WON'T ALWAYS PROTECT YOU!"

The court was nearly silent. Not a hair stirred as everyone focused on Harry's aunt.

She spoke in a voice full of barely suppressed rage. "I told them that forcing you to do chores was not good enough! I told them that a regular, weekly thrashing by hand was not good enough, that you needed one daily and with a good leather belt! I told them that withholding food from you wasn't enough! You had to be broken! I told them to lock your arse in that dog cage of theirs in the shed; you did not deserve that cupboard under the stairs."

"Vernon was always going on about how freakish you were. After he tried to lose you in the mall when you were five and you magically found your way back on their doorstep," the typing lady gasped, "I told him to let you rot in the garage. But no, that Petunia was always going on about those people. 'Oh Vernon, don't do it, those people- those people'. The stupid girl! She just wanted you in the house for the money that she received from those people for taking care of you. I-."

She suddenly stopped. The only sound that was heard was the rapid typing of the woman behind the desk. The whole courtroom was staring at Marge agape. Harry was still confused. Who were the people paying Aunt Petunia to take care of me?

"Dog cage?" Marner said to himself.

Harry heard the once rapid typing of the woman at the desk slow to a stop.

Harry felt the pulse increase and his mouth opened.

"Now…" He said slowly, looking at the judge. "You see what I went through." The words had an immediate effect.

The judge paid him a brief, almost searching glance, and made a note on some papers on his desk. Harry blinked; he had felt a tingle in the back of his mind, as if the man had been in it.

Impossible.

"Remove her." The judge repeated. "Take her to a holding cell. Crimes beyond the ones reported," he nodded to Harry, "have been committed here. I shall get to the bottom of this case." He gestured questioning to the woman who had been typing furiously over the pass few moments.

"Yes sir, all was taking down!" The woman in a lime green skirt said, looking almost insulted by the question. She typed again, as if noting her own words.

"Good." He turned back to everyone, gathering his papers. "This hearing has been postponed for 14 days." A murmur went through the crowd. Cameras that Harry had not know were there began flashing brilliantly. The judge stood up and everyone else began to as well.

"Your Honor," Harry's attorney stood up and caused a lull in the room, "You have not decided where Harry will be residing until then..."

The judge sat back down slowly, Harry watched restraining himself from laughing at the fact that everyone else, besides himself and his attorney, sat back down too. Like puppets.

"I had decided, and I was going to discuss this matter away from the press and public." He said honestly to the now abashed man, who was still standing and rapidly turning red in the face.

He looked Harry in the eye and gestured for him to stand. Harry did so unaided this time. The people with pens and paper in their hands at the back of the room leaned forward eagerly. The woman at the typewriter had her fingers at the ready.

"Because of the severity and abnormality of the case, all options must be taken into account. I have spoken with several childcare agencies and professionals. I have come to the conclusion that the defendant shall spend seven days, under necessary protection, in Masons Correctional Facility." A great wave of chattering went through the crowd. People were talking in astonished, fascinated voices.

Marner began pulling Harry down, but Harry fought to stay up. Harry was not stupid. The judge had mentioned only seven days. Harry might only be nine, but even he could count, and there were seven more days in the holding process until the next hearing.

"As for the other seven days," the judge continued swiftly, "he shall be housed in Sirkins Juvenile Delinquency Facility until a further sentence is reached." The man banged a hammer like thing and got up. Everyone stood again, and he disappeared after he delivered the sentence

The room exploded in voices. A woman behind Harry said in a low whisper, "they're going to tear that little boy to pieces."

That comment immediately made him think about Uncle Vernon. He heard himself laughing. Several people in the room, especially members of the press, were taken aback by his response to, what they believed was to, the sentence.

.

.