Epilogue: Hell or Home?

"Harrald James Potter, you stand here before the Wizengamot, accused of crimes against the Ministry and the populace it is sworn to protect. The charges are as follows: Murder in the first degree, thirty-two counts; use of Unforgivable Curses, numerous counts; destruction of private property, numerous counts; destruction of public property, numerous counts; destruction of Ministry property, numerous counts; consorting with an illegal organization; terrorism; kidnapping, numerous counts; theft, numerous counts; trespassing, numerous counts; breaking and entering, numerous counts; treason..."

Harry rolled his eyes as the list of crimes continued. He gazed drolly at the man who was reading all of this out from his place beside the Minister's podium in the dark courtroom in the deepest levels of the Ministry. Honestly, Percy just liked the sound of his own voice far too much.

He let his eyes wander around to the stands and those sitting there watching. There were quite a few people there and he could not see an empty space anywhere. There were a flock of reporters to one side of the room and every few seconds a camera flash lit up the room. The sound of several quills all scratching away at once was a minor annoyance that he could easily tune out; a perk of having spent several months as a teacher.

No, it was the faces of the people he knew in the audience that drew his eye. His mother was there, and so was his father. Hermione was there too. She sat next to his mother, doing her best not to show how scared she was for him. They both knew that this could very well end in his death. And the chances of him fighting his way out were next to zero as he was still restrained with magic-suppressing shackles.

Xeno and Luna were there, in the stands with the reporters. He smiled lightly, knowing that at least one publication would report everything factually and truthfully. The same could not be said of the Prophet, or Witch Weekly or any of the other dozens of pointless papers in the Wizarding World. Hell, there was even a representative from Der Morgenstern, the premier German newspaper, in attendance. It would seem that his capture and trial was worthy of international attention. He would have been flattered, if he wasn't so annoyed with the whole thing.

Barty had already been put on trial, just before him. His sentencing had been quick. His own father had passed the judgment and sentenced Barty to life in Azkaban for his crimes. Harry knew that he would be lucky to get the same outcome. They might just say to hell with it and push him through the Veil; the Department of Mysteries was only a short walk from here after all.

Bill, Charlie, Fleur, Nymphadora; they were all here. Turns out, Harry figured, that none of them could be accused without James and Sirius implementing themselves in the deaths of at least four people. Hermione was safe too. They had already said that Harry was the one who had killed Ron and Ginny and if they tried to go back on that to accuse her, they would again implement themselves. That was a relief to Harry. At least Hermione and the others were free and safe. He trusted his mother to take care of her in his absence, or likely death.

He caught Hermione's eye and smiled at her, letting his boredom show through. She smiled back as best as she could but her fear and sadness were still plain to see to anyone who bothered to look. He saw Lily reach over and grasp Hermione's hand in a show of support; the younger witch didn't relax much, but she looked grateful for the effort.

Harry became aware that Percy was no longer droning on and on and turned his attention back to the man. "Sorry, I wasn't listening. Could you repeat that?"

Percy glared down at him, clutching the scroll of parchment on which Harry's innumerable crimes were detailed so hard that it was crushed in his fist. "How do you plead?" he demanded in a harsh tone.

Harry smirked. "I don't plead," he said matter-of-factually.

There was a general murmur through the room at his unusual response. Some were trying to figure out if it was defiance or something else more sinister.

Bartemius Crouch was not a patient man at the best of times and this was no exception. "Mr. Potter, you stand accused of crimes which are far too numerous to list. Are you guilty or not?"

Harry gave a stern glance at the man. "First off, never address me as 'Mr. Potter'. That's my father, and I hate the bastard. He abandoned me as a child when he fled from Voldemort like a coward. You can torture me, hell, kill me, but don't insult me." The sound of quills intensified as notes were made of Harry's scathing words about his father. "Now, as for my crimes, you have failed to mention that at least fifteen of those murders were of Marked Death Eaters. I would hardly consider that an unlawful killing. And another of those killings was of Voldemort himself. If anything, I just did the job that the Ministry was too weak and incompetent to do. You're welcome, by the way."

Harry's words sparked uproar as the reporters shouted questions about whether or not Harry had really killed Voldemort at the Minister and Crouch.

Crouch was beyond peeved as he bang his gavel repeatedly on the desk in front of him, shouting for silence. Once order had been restored, he glared down at Harry. "You have just admitted to the murder of no less than sixteen individuals. That alone is more than enough to see you to Azkaban for the rest of your days."

Harry shrugged. "You were gonna do that anyway, so what's the point of denying it? Besides, I wanted the people to know who it was that saved them and ended this damned war before you and your useless underlings attempted to claim credit for my hard work. You know what, all of that that your ginger ponce over there read out, yeah, I did it. I did all of it. That is not an admission of guilt. No, if I'm guilty of anything, it's fighting for your people when you were too weak to do so."

Crouch sneered and his nostrils flared at Harry's verbal attacks. "Let the record show that the accused has admitted to all crimes and as such has been found guilty of all charges. Sentence is life in Azkaban. May you live the rest of your days in hell." He slammed the gavel down harder than was necessary. "Court adjourned."

Voices filled the courtroom as the audience stood and began making their way out of the chamber. Harry glanced over to see Hermione collapse into tears. Lily pulled her into a hug and rubbed her back comfortingly while whispering softly into her ear.

Harry felt a pang of guilt flush through him at the pain he was causing Hermione. He knew that he shouldn't have been so defiant toward Crouch and the Ministry, but he was going to be locked up regardless, so he may as well say his piece, he figured. What harm could it do? Where he was going, he was good as dead anyway. No one left Azkaban with much life left in them, if any.

He took the moment to study Hermione, to memorize her. He wanted to be able to remember her face when he was down in the dark. He refused to let himself forget how she looked, ever. He did the same to the others; Luna, Xeno, Charlie, Bill, Fleur, Arnie, Lily, and Nymphadora - the latter of whom was standing not too far from him with Robards, her face a mask of anguish. Robards himself even looked a bit down. Harry sent them both a grin, hoping to lift their spirits a bit. It didn't help.

With a sigh, Robards made his way toward him.

He was pulled out of his silent staring by two pairs of hands hauling him to a standing position. Savage and Williamson stood on either side of him, each holding him by an arm. Robards stepped in and took over Williamson's spot, sending the older man on ahead. Savage was a blank slate, showing no emotion and operating as a machine. Robards, on the other hand, looked sympathetic toward him.

"For what it's worth, mate," Robards, whispered to him. "I'm sorry all of this happened. You did us all a service by killing that bastard. I'll not soon forget that."

Harry met his gaze and nodded in return. At least he knew that the truth was out and there were those within the establishment that knew that truth.

He was led out of the courtroom via a back door. He would not be given any last moments to speak to his loved ones. He would not be marched through the crowd like some spectacle, no matter how much the Minister and his monkeys wanted to gloat about their supposed 'victory'.

He was shoved into a room by Savage. Barty was already there. "One way ticket to hell?" his oldest friend asked.

Harry nodded. "Yep. A bargain price too." He looked at his best friend with narrowed eyes. He was glad to know that Barty really had been his friend and that they had made it through together but he couldn't shake a feeling of betrayal still. Barty and Regulus both had manipulated him towards killing Voldemort. Admittedly, he had been planning to do so anyway, but they had forced the issue and he had had to fight sooner than he had wanted. But, it was only by their timely arrival that he was able to land the killing blow. And Barty himself had destroyed the Horcruxes. He sighed. "You used me," he said.

Barty raised a brow at this. "Come again?"

Harry met his gaze. "You used me. You and Regulus both. You manipulated me into fighting Voldemort. I'm betting Regulus planned it that way from the beginning. Ever since he found out about the Horcruxes. He had to have found out about the Prophecy too. You knew it as well. I know you did. You grabbed the Prophecy in the Department of Mysteries. I know you heard it. So tell me, how are you any different from Voldemort? I was nothing but a weapon to all of you."

Barty shook his head. "You got it all, little brother. You weren't a weapon to us. You were our friend, our brother. You still are. Yeah, we pushed you a little harder than you were comfortable with, but we knew the stakes. We knew it had to be done and quickly. It was only a matter of time before something went wrong. You know how it goes. Anything that can go wrong, will. We couldn't take the chance that something would go wrong. I am sorry, Harry, but it had to be done. And the difference between me and that bastard is that I actually care about you. Hell, I love you, mate. You're my baby brother!"

Harry scowled at the term but said nothing. Barty had been there when he was brought in as a baby so it was an accurate phrasing. That didn't mean he had to like it.

"So, you looking forward to our new home?" Barty asked.

Harry shrugged. "Just another dark hole. Nothing new for me."

Barty suddenly got a very serious expression on his face and Harry thought he saw a flicker of fear in his eyes. This was confirmed by Barty's next words. "What's it like, Harry? Living in darkness?"

Harry sighed and closed his eyes. He pictured himself in the dark, without the one he loved. "Lonely," he said.

Barty nodded solemnly but didn't respond.

"Not to mention boring as hell," Harry added after a pause.

They both chuckled quietly before going silent again.

They stood in silence for a while before the door to the chamber opened and Scrimgeour entered, flanked by Savage and Williamson. In Scrimgeour's hand was a small length of rope. He instructed them to grab hold of it. Barty and Harry did so after exchanging a look. What choice did they have? Savage and Williamson took hold as well and a moment later they were suddenly thrown rather unceremoniously across the great distance between the Ministry and the rocky crags that serves as a shore for Azkaban Island.

The great fortress of Caer Azkaban loomed tall and foreboding like a portent of doom. The black wraiths that were the Dementors circled the place like an enraptured flock of demonic birds, draining what little warmth and joy might have been found here.

"Welcome to hell, boyos," Williamson said, looking at them as they balanced on the wet rocks, the sea churning like a roiling beast around them, soaking them to the bone.

Harry took in the relative darkness of the place and offered a small smirk. "Hell? No, this is home."

Scrimgeour looked at him, unimpressed. "You won't be so flippant after a day here, Mr. Potter, of that I assure you. Even the toughest men are reduced to little more than whimpering children here. You will be no different."

Harry met his gaze, defiant to the end. "I've lived in a hole in the ground since I was a year old and suffered the Cruciatus from Voldemort himself until I was five. Compared to that, this is a vacation." He wasn't sure that would prove true, but he was putting on a brave front; whether it was for himself or for Barty, who was looking a bit pale, he wasn't sure. Maybe both.

Harry and Barty were thrown into cells right next to each other. The cell was confining, with no windows save for the small barred square in the door that allowed the guards to peer through to check in on the prisoners. There was also a small metal flap which he assumed their daily meals would be delivered through.

The locks were slid into place and a metal plate slid over the small window in the door, blocking out all light from the outside.

Harry found a thin bedroll against the wall and settled down on it, closing his eyes. Might as well get comfortable. He wasn't going anywhere for a while.

Taking a deep breath, he let himself relax and slip into himself. They thought that he would be broken by this place, but they were wrong. He was born in darkness. It was part of him. This place, it was full of shadows, and the shadows belonged to him. No, this was not hell. It was home. At least, for now. He smiled, and could almost imagined that he could hear a raven laughing.

XXXX

A/N: All right. There it is. This story draws to a close now. Let me know what you think.

Thank you all for sticking with me this long. You are all amazing. Leave me some love.

Until next time, I am Atrocity.