Chapter 10: To Azkaban or Bust!
Saturday January 6, 1996
After being left to rot for three days in a Ministry cell, the Aurors finally decided to question Harold on Saturday. The two men that picked him up from Hogwarts immediately slapped cuffs on him, not even bothering to think that they would never hold him. Foolish wizards and their hubris…
Seeing as how Dumbledore has been severely discredited by the Ministry themselves, Harold honestly did not think that the old man would work with that toad bitch and the government.
How could I have been so blind? Of course that bastard would, Harold thought, berating himself for forgetting Dumbledore's character. He'll want to punish any "Dark wizard," while protecting the "Light" from everything. It's fuckin' ridiculous.
As Harold was dragged to the interrogation room, he tried to memorize the layout of the building, wanting to find a way to escape if he had to. Unfortunately, there were so many twists and turns that he couldn't make sense of anything. The Ministry seemed to go on forever.
They probably want me to think that… There must be a trick to it or something.
As Harold was led around by the Aurors, he rarely saw other people, but when he did, they all had the same shiny badge on, right on their left breast that said: MINISTRY OFFICIAL. Looking closer, Harold could detect a faint magical signature on the badge.
Of course! The badge must have something to do with how people move around here… but what about the guests? Do they get badges? I'll need to think on this more…
Finally, the group arrived at the interrogation room, and forced Harold into a chair, his handcuffs molded themselves to the back of it so that they couldn't be taken off to switch positions.
The room was simple enough, with an all-white coloring and metal chairs and table, it really looked like a good place to intimidate people. Pff… yeah right.
The two Aurors left, leaving Harold alone in the room looking at a large, one-sided glass window. Do they seriously expect me to say anything? I know that they've already found me guilty. "A supposed muggleborn killing two purebloods? Instant trip to Azkaban." The only question is, will I go?
Indeed, Cornelius Fudge and Auror Kinsley Shacklebolt were not discussing the possibility of Harold being innocent, but how long his stay in Azkaban would be.
"It should be a lifetime in that place! He killed two purebloods! And one of them was the son of an upstanding member of society! He'll have my head if I don't put him in there!" Cornelius exclaimed.
"We don't know for sure if he killed Malfoy's son. He could really be miss-" Shacklebolt argued.
"No," Fudge interrupted, "You and I both saw the memory of that Zabini brat! Now I made a deal with Dumbledore and Malfoy, and both want to see justice here. He is guilty and that is final! Throw him into Azkaban!"
Shacklebolt gave Fudge a frown before summoning the other Aurors and giving them the directions to prepare the boy for the trip to the dreaded prison.
Harold was not given a trial.
He was not able to defend himself.
He was not allowed to have his side of the story heard.
He was just some stupid muggleborn who killed two purebloods.
Nobody cared about WHO he was, just the STORY that he would make.
And because of all of this, Harold was sent to Azkaban.
xxxXXXxxx
Sunday January 7, 1996
MUGGLEBORN ATTACKS AND KILLS TWO PUREBLOODS!
MINSTER SENDS ACCUSED TO AZKABAN IMMEDIATELY, WITHOUT TRIAL!
By Rita Skeeter
This past Tuesday, as Hogwarts students were enjoying their Welcoming Feast after having been gone due to Christmas Break, one of their own was arrested for the alleged murder of two of his classmates! The accused name: Harold. This is not a joke, the boy's only recorded name is Harold.
Now, after having been in a jail cell for an undisclosed amount of time, and having presumably been interrogated, our Minister of Magic sends him to Azkaban, without a trial! This is the first time in recorded history that a prisoner has ever been sent to Azkaban without a trial, and it reeks of suspicion here at the Daily Prophet. Even the Death Eaters under He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's rule were given a trial, and we all know of the atrocities that they committed.
Was the boy truly guilty, or is it a Ministry cover-up? Why were we not told by Albus Dumbledore, the Headmaster of Hogwarts, about these two deaths? We can only speculate… for now.
xxxXXXxxx
Hermione set down the paper, tears threatening to fall down her face as she thought of what Harold was about to go through. Will he leave? Will he leave and never come back to m… us?
Neville was gripping his glass of pumpkin juice in anger. Suddenly, the glass broke under his grip, cutting his hand and causing everyone to look at him with a hint of sadness and pity. Fuck Harold! Why man… why did this have to happen?
Susan took one good look at the paper and immediately left the hall, not wanting anyone to see her bawl her eyes out. He's gone… What am I going to do? Oh Harold… please, please come back to me…
Terry and Anthony saw Susan get up and leave, instantly feeling sadness for their friend. They both turned to one another and slightly nodded their heads, determined to help their friends in their time of need. It's the least Harold would want us to do.
The school was divided on what had happened with Harold.
The Hufflepuffs decided to remain loyal to their friend, not really caring about what he did, for he had earned their respect, and was never going to lose it.
The Gryffindors were saying that Harold was the greatest thing since sliced bread because of the fact that he got rid of Malfoy. They did not care about the fact that he killed Ronald at all.
The Ravenclaws were the more interesting bunch, as they had many debates regarding the morality of Harold's actions. On the one hand, if Harold killed Malfoy because he was the one who cast the Imperius on Ronald, then it was justified. However, if it was murder, then it was not, even if everyone knew that if Voldemort really was back, Malfoy would want to be a Death Eater in a heartbeat.
The Slytherins were trying to find a way to get back at Daphne and Tracey now that their 'immunity' was gone, but they were finding it to be pretty difficult as ¾ of the school were protecting them.
Most of the staff members were a bit troubled over the death of Malfoy, wondering what caused it, but did not voice their concern to Albus, who was adamant that Harold was guilty of murder and should be sent to Azkaban in order to be reformed.
Nobody believed this besides him, but that didn't stop him from telling everyone every 5 seconds. His cause, after all, was for the Greater Good.
Umbridge was completely pleased with herself, having solved one part of the problem. Now all that's left is Dumbledore and this castle is mine… Or rather, the Dark Lord's…
The woman absently rubbed the Dark Mark that had recently been etched into her skin, forever making her a Death Eater. It does not work well with pink though…
No matter, their cause after all, is a just one.
xxxXXXxxx
Wednesday February 7, 1996
It had been a month since Harold's imprisonment in Azkaban and the young man was already bored. I thought that this place was supposed to be more… just more.
Before he had even gotten on the island, Harold was constantly wondering if the Dementors would affect an elemental. Surely it wouldn't… our magic is different than normal wizards and these things are specifically bred to work on that magic.
His logic wasn't foolproof, but it was not exactly flawed either.
While the worst effects of the Dementors were lost on him, he still felt the bitter coldness and a strange sense of sadness, almost as if his puppy had died. Thankfully I've never had a puppy, Harold mused, Otherwise, I might seriously be screwed.
Glad that he could still crack a joke, Harold tried moving around again, only to feel the coldness increase several notches and that sadness turn to an even darker, more primal fear.
Nope, better not try that again, he thought, rubbing his head as the Dementors gave him massive headaches.
Looking around the room, he noticed that his floor had less of a grimy aspect than he thought it would, and his bed was more comfortable than he expected.
It's not… that bad. I could be in one of the higher security wards. Harold gave an involuntary shudder over what that would feel like.
Suddenly, his cell door opened up to a lone figure in the dark hallway. For a second, Harold thought that Fudge was going to get him Kissed and almost bolted out of there, fugitive or no, he was NOT staying here to get THAT.
But instead of the coldness that was normally associated with the foul creatures, he felt nothing. Looking closer, he saw that the only thing that was outside of his cell was an Auror, and a rather young one at that.
"Y-y-y-yo-you have been given a pardon by the Minister. I-I-I'm to escort you to him immediately," the young Auror stuttered.
Oh this cannot be good.
Getting up slowly, Harold prepared himself for the worst and walked away from his cell. The Dementors no longer affected him, as the Auror put him in cuffs that negated their presence. He did not know that it would be the last time that he ever saw it, and Azkaban, again.
xxxXXXxxx
As the duo walked the halls, the young Auror was shivering, whether it was from the Dementors or just the fact that it was bloody cold in Azkaban was unknown to Harold. In contrast, the young elemental was walking with about as much poise and dignity that he could muster after having not moved for a whole month, which was to say, not a lot.
After traversing through many different twists and turns, they finally reached the door to what he supposed would be the room where the Minister would "release" him.
Alright… here it comes…
Getting ready for anything, Harold and the guard walked through the door and into a large and clear white room that contrasted brilliantly from the hallway that they just walked through. Much like his interrogation room, there was a metal table and two metal chairs, but it was the person who was in one of the chairs that really intrigued him.
Sitting as if he did not have a care in the world was a young and healthy looking Tom Marvolo Riddle, also known as, the Dark Lord Voldemort.
"Hello Harold," the thing that looked like a man spoke, "It's so good to finally meet you."
xxxXXXxxx
At Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry, three figures sat around a small table in the back of the library, talking about their departed friend.
"I just… I wish that I could see him again, you know? I want to tell him… I want to tell him how much I actually love him. We never got to say it to each other, and now I feel… robbed," Susan confessed, barely holding it together.
Neville looked at his friend, who was normally so strong and independent, always willing to stick up for and help her friends, even if it meant that she would get into trouble as well. She still had that spark, that drive that everyone in their group loved about her, but it seemed to have dimmed a bit at the loss of her boyfriend.
Hermione sat in silence, not willing to comment on her friend for her confession. He's not dead. There just has to be a way to get him out. There has to be.
"You know, I'm glad that we could still do this…" Neville started.
"Do what?" Hermione interrupted.
"Still talk to one another. These stupid house rivalries had kept us apart for such a long time. I'm glad that we have all stayed friends with one another even after Harold… left."
"Well of course we would still be friends. Harold might have been the reason that we came together, but we learned to coexist without him a long time ago… It'd be nice if he was here though…" Hermione explained.
Susan sighed, drawing back the attention to her, before quietly asking, "Is there another way Hermione? Another way to get him back?"
Hermione gave her a tired look that clearly meant what they were all thinking, I would help if I could, but no, there isn't any way for him to break out of Azkaban that I know of.
The trio then began to talk about lighter things, like homework and tests before leaving together to go and eat. None of them however, ever stopped thinking about their lost friend who meant the world to them.
xxxXXXxxx
Thursday March 7, 1996
Harold slowly awoke from his pain-induced slumber, barely able to get his eyes open before sunlight splashed over the room his was in. Instantly, he shut his eyes again, not wanting to be forced to wake up to face his daily torture.
Eventually, a figure shook him until he woke up, not even considering his feelings about the subject.
"Rise and shine trouble-maker. We've still got a shit-ton of time before Voldemort makes his move, and I want you to be prepared for anything," the figure explained.
"Five more minutes Darius… you worked me like an animal yesterday…" Harold whined.
"I know kid, but I do it 'cause I love ya, now get up!" Darius then conjured a bucket of water and attempted to throw it at Harold, who quickly froze it in midair and then dispelled it.
"Fuck you Darius," he mumbled, before getting up and walking to his bathroom to take a nice and long shower.
Darius had an amused expression on his face, giving Harold a toothy smile as the younger man closed the door in order to have privacy.
As soon as the door closed however, Darius' smile turned into a contemplative frown. I am doing this to help you kid. I don't want this future battle to be close. No last minute saves where the hero barely makes it out alive. This ain't some fuckin' story. And I'll be damned if I lose you again.
Sitting on the couch in Harold's room, he thought back to the day that the young man showed up at their house, covered in filth and smelling like a sewer.
xxxXXXxxx
Wednesday February 7, 1996
"It's so good to finally meet you," Riddle chuckled.
"I can't say the same Voldemort, or rather, Tom," Harold spat.
The Dark Lord's false smile turned to that of an enraged snarl, threatening to kill the elemental where he stood before calming himself and giving Harold a frown instead.
"Yes, that dreaded name that my filthy Muggle father gave me. Tell me, how did you know of this?" Voldemort inquired, genuinely curious.
"A little birdy told me," Harold retorted, not willing to give this thing any information at all if he could help it.
Voldemort frowned deeper, not liking the brat's attitude in the least.
"I take it that you know why you are here?" Voldemort asked, trying to scare the young man.
"You're going to try and kill me, or something like that, right?" Harold scoffed, not scared in the least.
"I'm not going to try to kill you. I am going to kill you."
"I'll believe it when I see it," Harold smirked.
The Dark Lord was now showing his true face; deep crimson eyes poured into silver-emerald, wanting to rip the boy's mind to shreds for his insolence.
What he found was not what he expected.
Thunderstorms and lightning were instantly hurled at him upon entering, with a fierce wind threatening to knock him off his feet. Voldemort tried dodging the lightning, only to have it hit him in the back, instantly throwing him from the boy's mind.
Voldemort lay panting on the floor, sweating dripping off of him in buckets.
"Tisk, tisk, c'mon Tom," Harold mocked, "Don't you know it's rude to enter someone's mind without permission?"
The Dark Lord gave an animalistic growl, before he spat, "What are you boy?"
"Nothing that need concern you, you fucking abomination. Now all I have to say is. Kiss. My. Ass," Harold retaliated, before Stunning the most powerful Dark Lord in history and exiting the building, not caring if it made him a fugitive of the Ministry.
xxxXXXxxx
Running without his 'Lightning Step' was always strange for Harold.
Due to his abilities as a lightning elemental, he was naturally quick and fast, being able to catch a fly out of the air and run a mile in a minute.
But never before had he run over water.
I guess I just never bothered to test this before, he mused.
Reaching the mainland and the outside of the Apparation wards in less than ten minutes, the boy then Apparated to dozens of different places, trying to throw off any pursuers from his trail before arriving at his home, exhausted beyond belief.
To say that he gave Darius a fright would be an understatement, as the man nearly killed Harold on the spot when he dumped himself on the kitchen table.
"Fuckin' took you long enough! What were you doin', smellin' the roses?" Darius asked, truly angered at the fact that Harold took this long to escape.
"Oh boy, have I ever," Harold yawned, before falling asleep on the table.
Darius rolled his eyes before conjuring a futon for Harold and placing him on it, knowing that he wouldn't want to get his bed dirty.
"What am I gonna do with you?"
xxxXXXxxx
Back in the bathroom, Harold had only one thought on his mind, his friends. His girlfriend was of course, at the forefront of such thoughts.
What the hell am I going to do? They might try to find me if the Daily Prophet releases the fact that I escaped. But I can't send them any mail! Fuck!
Harold sighed in exasperation, not liking the situation that he found himself in.
Turning off the hot water, as he felt that he had showered enough, Harold climbed out and dried himself, noticing his appearance in the mirror.
He had lost a bit of his muscle during his stint in Azkaban, which he was now paying for with his training sessions with Darius.
Last night had been the worst, as Darius made Harold perform his 'Lightning Step' ten times throughout the day. Although the session was brutal, it did help him develop and grow with his powers. He could now do the 'Lightning Step' 8 times for 5 seconds before he reached exhaustion, and then an addition 2 times if he had a safe place to rest for the night available.
Darius told him that 7 seconds was the limit, and when he reached it, he could go on using it almost indefinitely. The 'Lightning Step,' he explained, was like a nitro to a car in a video game. It could be used and then had to be stopped before recharging after a couple of minutes.
Darius was also showing Harold other techniques that he could use, namely something that Darius himself had created that he called 'The Shield.'
'The Shield' was a dome of pure plasma that could even block a few Unforgiveables before crashing down, exploding outward and killing anyone around it but the user.
It was a deadly weapon for both defense and offence, but required HUGE amounts of power to use. Harold could only hold it for a couple of seconds before his crashed, leaving him a wreck for two days.
That was not fun, he remembered.
As the boy stepped out of the shower, he thought about how overpowered he might seem to most wizards.
If I'm not too careful, they might either name me as a God or try to kill me as a Demon.
xxxXXXxxx
Daphne looked behind her, making sure that no Slytherins were around her, before she stepped into the Room for the first time ever.
Looking around, she saw what seemed to be a library filled with books, with her seven friends all running around frantically, searching through both huge tomes and small pamphlets, trying to find something.
"We'll find something… We'll find something…" Hermione kept on repeating, running through a dusty scroll with Neville.
Susan and Hannah were looking through a book that looked to be four feet tall and had pages that shone a faint gold.
Terry and Anthony were both checking pamphlets, running through them as quickly as they could, searching for… whatever it was that they were searching for.
Tracey was organizing all the books, putting them into different categories that only she knew.
"Umm… what the hell are you all doing?" Daphne asked, truly curious about her friends' actions.
"What does it look like?" Neville drawled, surprising even himself with his tone of voice before continuing, "You saw the paper today. We have to help him."
"Oh," Daphne simply replied, remembering the cover of the Daily Prophet which claimed that Harold had escaped Azkaban a month before, while the Ministry said nothing until they were pressed into doing so.
"Oh? Damn, I know that they call you the Ice Queen, but come on. He is your friend," Anthony lightly chided.
"He is not!" Daphne argued, not convincing anyone with her words.
"Oh come on! Yes he is Daph. You know it as well as I do," Hannah winked.
"Don't call me Daph," the girl in question growled.
"Yeah, yeah, now come over and help me with this, I need these organized quickly so that Hermione can absorb them into that void of knowledge that she calls a brain," Tracey smirked.
"You never explained what you're doing," Daphne exasperatedly sighed, walking over to Tracey so that she could help.
"We're searching for a way to get Harold acquitted. We can't have him getting into even more trouble without our help now, can we?" Tracey answered.
Daphne scoffed, "No… I guess we can't," she finished with a whisper, grabbing a book and putting it where Tracey indicated. She never even noticed the smiles that her friends gave her, relieved that she actually cared for Harold.
xxxXXXxxx
Sunday March 31, 1996
Two figures clashed blades for the eighth time that day, both panting from exhaustion.
Sweat poured into the younger figure's eye before he could wipe it off, and when the older one saw this, he capitalized on it and swept the younger figure's feet out from under him, causing him to land on his back with a sickening crack.
"Aw fuck Darius, I think you just broke the floor," Harold wheezed.
"Just be glad that it wasn't your spine," Darius retorted.
"Yeah, I guess I'm happy with that…" Harold corrected.
Harold slowly got up, mindful of his broken rib from the fall.
He really isn't holding back anymore… but how can I keep up with him?
As if he sensed Harold's thoughts, Darius explained, "It's because you have much more potential than I did. I couldn't do half the things that you can at your age. It took me years to learn what you can in months. And when you're ready, I'll give you the elixir."
Harold's head snapped back to Darius, mouth open in shock, "But… you said that you'd never give it to anybody. What changed your mind?"
Darius was silent for a long time, not even bothering to look in Harold's direction. Just when he thought that he wouldn't answer, Darius simply explained, "Because you're my son."
Tears welled up in Harold's eyes, and before he could fight it, a couple fell upon his face. "You've hardly ever… thank you," he whispered.
"Of course kid."
The two sat in silence for a while, taking in the repercussions of what Darius just said.
After it almost got uncomfortable, Darius asked Harold, "Can you walk? We need to get you fixed up for tomorrow. I want you to try 'The Shield' again."
Harold groaned, not wanting to do it but knowing that he had to, before he nodded and limped off to his room to heal for the night.
We're almost there, Darius thought, relieved at his… son's progress, Soon… very soon.
Author's Note:
Sooooo that was crazy. Can you guys guess what Darius is talking about? I made it pretty obvious.
I just got a review today from this guest named Jim who said: "Thank you for this amazing story…Loved it."
No man, thank you. That made me feel absolutely fantastic, because I felt that I did my job as an author. If I can at least have 1 person love what I write, it will all be worth it. So thanks man.
I should be finished with this in the next two chapters. And then I'm going to start this new fic that's been in my head for a long time now and is just waiting to get out. It's probably going to have to be made a crossover, as elements from one of the coolest fuckin games is going to be included, but I seriously hope that I can make it original enough for you guys.
Anyways, thanks for reading all! I am almost at 50 favorites! (My new goal, the 100 followers thing is kind of irrelevant now at the end of a story)
I just got 50+ favorites! Yes! Thank you all so much! (: