General Disclaimer: All Rights are reserved by JK Rowling, related publishing houses, and movie studios. I'm just borrowing the characters for my own fun and will be keeping with the rules that Ms. Rowling set out, and they are:

1.) that fan fiction endeavors remained non-commercial,

2.) that the stories continue to exist online (and not in print)

3.) that the stories are not obscene

Summary: Wizarding world beware the Child of Destiny will be awakened. Alone and betrayed, death shall be his release, his shackles broken he will emerge unbowed, a Tempest of Change forged by the fires of pain and heartache. Whisked away to be learn of his destiny. In the end, his choice will decide the betrayers' fates.

Authors Note: Parts of this story will seem familiar becasue I have ditched a previous story I wrote titled "Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus". Please, bare with me, I promise that I have expanded on the original work.

Tempest of Change/Child of Destiny

Chapter 1: Perfect Storm

A savage storm raged outside the dreary fortress walls. The wind howled fiercely as one icy wave after another battered the jagged rocky shoreline of the tiny that was little more than a speck of dust in the frigid waters of the North Sea, which played host to the infamous wizarding prison of Azkaban. A flash of lightening lit of the dark night cloud filled sky above the prison that housed the British magical worlds dark and seedy underworld.

The mighty boom of thunder followed the lightening rattled the prisons inhabitants. One, such inhabitant, would come as a surprise for an ordinary everyday person on the street, but at the highest level of the towering prison, a place that was reserved for Britain's darkest, most notorious witch's and wizard's they would find a teenage boy. The teen, in question, they would wonder how he came to this, especially if they knew that the adolescent had once been the hero and golden child of the British wizarding world. That many a witch and wizard believed to be the pillar of the light. The teen, Harry Potter, once known as the boy-who-lived was now known as the boy-who-lived-to-kill by the magical citizens of Britain and the magical world.

Harry shivered from the frigid wet cold air as he huddled for warmth under a tattered blanket. The only thing separating him from the cold bare floor of his cell was a bare thin mattress. His once, boyish features, were marred by malnutrition and lack of exercise and sunlight, his raven-colored hair was long, unwashed and unkept, he possessed a beard that looked wrong on any boy of almost sixteen. If, Harry, were awake one would find his, once brilliant green eyes haunted by the horrors, he was forced to witness day after day from the affects of the prison guards, known as Dementors.

Dementors, were magical creatures, with parasitic nature who fed from a being's happiness, while forcing their victims to relive their worst memories and fears. After a while, the person's memories would become even more twisted as their perceptions of lived reality became tainted by exposure to the creatures. Though, for some strange reason, the creatures, were absent this night.

Unfortunately, that didn't stop, Harry's nightmares from haunting his sleep. In his mind's eye, his night terrors abound and unrestricted played out like an old-fashioned movie reel…

Flashback

His mother's words of love before the door to his nursery exploded in debris of splintered wood. The sound of her desperate pleas of mercy and begging for him to be spared. The chill of the dark wizard's words as he cast the green curse that took his mother's life before the hooded man turned his wand on him firing the same green curse. These memories were the worst of the worst for Harry to endure and seemed to feed the dementors the most with how the memory of his mother's whispered "I love you" brought him the greatest joy even in his dismal surroundings.

Harry, though it hurt the most, would try to hold onto that memory, even has his life played out in agonizing detail in front of him. The ten years, at the Dursleys, enduring every malicious word from his aunt, every hit landed on him by his uncle was played repeatedly. The taunting of his cousin and his group of friends, being forced to relive the loneliness as the other children avoided him on the playground. The teacher's who ignored every sign of his pain from broken bones and bruises. His aunt and uncle having fooled, bullied, or bought their way out of suspension from school authorities with generous donations while telling stories of a clumsy and troublesome nephew.

The happy memory of learning that magic was real and that he was wizard was even tainted now. The years he spent at Hogwarts with his friends, Hermione, and Ron, were riddled with twisted versions of what really happened. Though, the worst memories started in his fourth year with the announcement of the Triwizard tournament and his unwitting entry into the cursed tournament.

It seems that everyone, and he does mean everyone, including his closest friends believed that he would cheat his way into the tournament for glory.The hurt of his schoolmates, believing he would cheat to still glory, was easy enough to shrug off due to rejection he had be shown in his second year when everyone believed him to be the "heir of Slytherin" attacking the students with Slytherin's monster. But the loss his dearest and closest confidants was the worst betrayal of all.

The insane jealousy from Ron was unexpected and hurt, but Hermione's accusation of cheating and lack of confidence in him hurt worst of all given that he had harbored a secret crush on her that he had only acknowledged after she helped him rescue his godfather, Sirius. Though, he had vowed to keep his feelings to himself, for the sake of his friendship, which meant everything to him.

He had managed to overcome the loneliness and abandonment, which gave him more time to study and train for the tournament. Surprisingly, he hadn't done as poorly as everyone thought he would or get himself killed. No, the only one killed was the rightful Hogwarts champion, Cedric Diggory, he was the golden boy of Hufflepuff house and even that was Harry's fault. His damn noble streak causing him to offer Cedric a chance at the tournament cup and a shared victory for Hogwarts had led Cedric to be murdered upon landing in that graveyard.

The ritual he was forced to participate in to give Voldemort a new body, the torture suffered at the newly arisen dark lord and the humiliation from his followers before he managed to retreat with the body of Cedric. Harry believed to be the lowest point in his life, but how wrong he was because that final straw that broke him was the moment, he stood in front of the Wizengamot as Albus Dumbledore, his headmaster and mentor, sentenced him to life in prison for the death of Cedric Diggory and his muggle relatives.

While Harry would except the blame for leading Cedric to his death, the bound and silenced, teen was puzzled by the charge of murdering his relatives and torturing his muggle neighbors surprised him. He was too weak from his stay in Azkaban to show any resistance. 'Wasn't he supposed to have a trial' these thoughts ran though his sluggish mind, 'why would Dumbledore not let him defend himself. He knows Sirius never had a trial.' Though it seemed as though everyone was acting as if a trial had indeed occurred.

The memories of Voldemort's surprise attack on Privet Drive at the stroke of midnight of what was his fifteenth birthday flashed through his mind.

Flashback inside a flashback

Harry had spent the month since his return from school reliving the death of Cedric and the return of Voldemort. His loneliness and grief overwhelming with painful memories and thoughts of what he could have done differently. The planning and workout sessions had left him exhausted to the point that he had even slept through his annual celebration of his birthday when he watched the clock, counting down the seconds until twelve midnight on the 31st of July. Instead, he was caught off guard when at the stroke of midnight on his fifteenth birthday, he was violently thrown from his bed by an explosion rocking the Dursleys home.

The roof and walls collapsing around him, he carefully makes his way through the rubble finding the mangled bodies of his aunt and uncle amongst the debris. The sight of them enough to make him ill. His vision swims before his eyes as he stumbles from the wrecked home to find Dudley writhing in agony on the front lawn before him stands the pale, nose less features of his worse fears manifested into some configuration of a man.

Lord Voldemort stands tall in his black bellowing robes his wand pointed down as he holds the curse on Harry's cousin. His red eyes alight with menacing glee a wicked smile on his face.

"Harry Potter," he hisses. "At last, you've arrived and just in time for the fun."

A red beam of light erupts in his peripheral vision causing darkness to pervade his mind.

End both flashbacks

Harry was thrown from his bed as a massive explosion rocked the prison. Debris reigned as the deranged cackling of his neighbor in the cell across from him sing song, "He's here! He's here! He finally came. My master has come for his most loyal."

The infamous dark witch, Bellatrix LeStrange, looked eagerly stepped over the rocky debris and mangled iron that was her cell. The wind howled and the rain poured fiercely but the mad woman didn't care.

Another explosion shook the fortress and another. This was explosion more powerful than the last before finally a large whole was blowing apart the wall next to Harry's cell. The debris went flying, knocking Harry violently into the wall.

In his dazed state, he watched as figures wearing dark robes and hoods entered the cell block. They quickly released their comrades from their prison cells. From the entrance, the pale snake like face of Voldemort appeared. "Bring the boy to me," he heard the harsh hiss as the words sent chills down his spine.

Harry was hoisted up by his arms as he was dragged from his cell by two of the dark lord's followers. The two death eaters forced Harry to his knees before Voldemort. The cold hands of his enemy grasped roughly at his chin forcing his head up at an uncomfortable angle.

A menacing sneer on the pale nose less face, "Harry Potter," the dark lord hissed, "the boy-who-lived…-to-kill. That's what the wizarding press calls you now, Potter."

The dark lord gloated, "how does it feel to know that YOUR so-called FRIENDS have abandoned you. They even gave testimony at your trial and to the newspapers about how you dragged them into danger year after year, about your dark talents with parseltongue, your need for attention, and how you were treated by your blood relatives, but then again you wouldn't know anything about that would you because you were unable to attend said trial to speak on your behalf. Although, the court and the press were spell bound by the testimony given by your Polyjuice replacement."

Harry's eyes shone brightly with anger, he mustered what strength he could to lung towards Voldemort intent to strangle the man to death. "Well, Potter, say something," Voldemort hissed in anger at the boy's insolence.

Voldemort sneered at the teen. His red eyes flashed red as lightening raced across the sky. "ANSWER ME! DO YOU not understand that you are ALL alone, boy? NO ONE will come to your rescue!" he hissed with fury.

"How does it feel," he pauses dramatically, before hissing, "to be reviled by the Wizarding world?"

Harry's green eyes narrowed in hatred and spit on the dark lord, but inside his heart breaking a little more at the revealed knowledge. Voldemort released his hold on the boy's chin. He swung his hand in fury connecting harshly with the boy's cheek with a resounding smack, Harry's head was whipped violently to the side.

"Pardon me, master," groveled Bellatrix in a bid to get the dark lord's attention.

When Voldemort showed signs of listening, Bellatrix continued, "but itty-bitty Potter hasn't spoken a word sense his arrival."

Red met green as the two enemies stared each other down, one in gleeful triumph and the other in defiance. Harry did not answer the monstrosity of a dark lord.

"Well, then we will just have to make him scream, instead," Voldemort hissed coldly, "CRUCIO!" the red beam of light signifying the pain curse flew from Voldemort's yew wand and collided with Harry, hitting him square in the chest.

Harry dropped to the ground and writhed in agony. The assembled prisoners and their masked comrades laughed and jeered at seeing the boy in pain.

Voldemort, eventually, lifted the dark curse. Harry was left gasping for breath as the pain seemed to begin to subside. He lifted himself to his knees, his green eyes never leaving the dark lord's.

Seeing the boy continue to defy him angered the dark lord, - NO ONE defies me – he thought, aiming his wand at the boy he hollered, "CRUCIO!"

The spell flew from the dark lord's wand, once again, hitting Harry in the chest, knocking him to the ground writhing in pain. The torture continued for several minutes until Voldemort struck upon the idea.

An evil grin gracing his thin lips. "Let's have a party, shall we?" he asked, turning to his followers. "After all what is a birthday without a party and sixteen is such an important milestone," a chore of cheers followed, "especially if it is the day you die," his red gaze fell on his nemesis. "and I assure you, Harry Potter, today will be the day your die," a round of laughter from his followers met Harry's ears.

Turning to the rubble, Voldemort waived his wand, transfiguring a highbacked chair, he turned back to his enemy approaching him his seat, he sat as an emperor facing his enemy, with a sneer, "String him up."

The two cloaked wizards holding Harry up used the debris from Harry's cell to transfigure a gallows, but instead of putting the rope around his neck, they bound his hands above his head and hoisted him of the floor.

"Bella!" Voldemort hissed harshly.

"Yes, master?" she groveled.

The first day, Harry, had arrived at the fortress. He had taken note of his fellow prisoner, Bellatrix, when she stepped from the shadows of her cell to get a look at the new arrival. His mind believed that the dark witch could have once been a great beauty upon first laying eyes on her that first day be arrived at Azkaban. There were still hints of such beauty even now, but Azkaban had taken its toll on the once aristocratic jawline, cheekbones, nose, and her plump were now pale and gaunt. Her dark eyes were sunken into her skull from malnutrition and lack of sunlight and her teeth were rotting. Her once voluptuous curves were nothing but skin and bones hidden by grimy gray prisoner's dress. Her long dark hair was matted and unwashed fell limply across her should and down her back.

"Entertain me," Harry heard Voldemort command, handing the dark witch her wand and favorite dagger.

Bellatrix's dark eyes lit up with childlike glee, "Yes, master," she took her favorite instruments of torture. "Do you have any requests, master?" she spoke gleefully.

Voldemort seemed to ponder his follower's words before his thin pale lips formed into a menacing sneer. "I don't like the look of defiance in his eyes. Take one of them out."

"Yes, master," the death eaters chuckled and jeered. Bellatrix shut them up with a look that promised pain for the next person who made a sound. When silence reigned again, she bowed lowly, "Any preference for which one I cut out, master."

The grip on Harry's harms tightened as he struggled to get free, but he LeStrange brothers held tight to their charge. They Voldemort appraised his advisory, "the right one," he hissed.

Bellatrix stalked her prey as he struggled. The wizard holding the rope lowered Harry to the ground. The LeStrange brothers jumped on the boy to hold him to the hard-uneven ground as Bellatrix straddled his waist, a twisted smile plastered across her lips, her odorous breath making him gag as he watched her bring the dagger closer. Harry tried to keep quite as she dug the dagger into his eyes, but he could not hold back the scream.

The screams that she drew from Harry were relished by Voldemort and his followers; except for one lone masked death eater who wished to be anywhere else but here watching his long-lost loves son being tortured instead of acting. It was only the knowledge that the dark lord was watching him closely that kept him from moving. He could only hope that Lily would forgive him, and that the boy would soon be joining his mother.

Time Jump - 3 Hours

"Enough!" Voldemort commanded. "We must depart soon."

Their time grew short, soon the sun would be up and the dayshift Auror's would find that their comrades were dead, and the Wards around the Azkaban had fallen.

"Rabastan, step away from the boy," The death eater was the last to take a turn to torture the teen using his wand like a whip on the Harry's back. "We must leave the Ministry a message."

Harry hung, hands bound by rope and stretched painfully behind him on the transfigured gallows, Voldemort and his followers observed their work. Before them Harry's beaten and bloodied, forever marred by cruelty inflicted upon him. hoisted the beaten and bloodied boy before their master. The barely conscious boy could feel the cold wind whip around him. He glared at the dark lord through his swollen but still functional left eye.

"Still defiant to the end I see," Voldemort hissed, "So was your mother! Avada Kedavra!" and a flash of green light was hurled his way. It struck him in the chest with such force that it sent Harry swinging by his arms.

A loud cackling laugh erupted from deep within Bellatrix. It was the only sounded that could be heard over the raging wind and the furious storm. In front of them hung the broken and unbreathing body of the boy-who-died. In the fortress the cracks and pops could barely be heard as the dark lord and his followers disappearing mixed with the sounds of the storm.

Scene Change

As Harry's body hung and moving the fierce wind and rain slowed to a stop. The waves froze in midair before they could break on the jagged rocks. The dementor's above stooped in midflight as did the rain and lightning. Every where surrounding the island time froze as an eerie silence fell over the world.

Out of the shadows stepped three mysterious, but beautiful women. Their bodies would make any man or woman lust after them, with tall, athletic frames, full ample breast and bum was enhanced by the soft flowing fabric of the gowns was secured to their bodies with belts of braided gold. They all shared high, noble cheekbones, strong, yet soft jawlines, a graceful neckline, and shoulders. The only feature that the three possessed that would make mortals and gods pause were the seemingly unseeing clouded eyes.

"This wasn't supposed to happen, sisters," said the first as she lovingly caressed Harry's face.

The women walked around Harry surveying the cruelty inflicted upon the teen. Her hand reaching out to caress his wounds. The ageless beauty with hair the color of fire, braided in a long braid, her pale features contrasted with the contrasted and complementing the red of her hair and crimson of her dress.

"Yet, it did, sister," spoke the second, stepping forward, the rustle of the fabric from her deep purple gown filled the silence. The dark colored beauty surveyed the damage to the adolescent. Her naturally curly hair was bound tightly to her scalp in multiple knots (Zulu knots) regal beauty belied her quick wit and razor-sharp intelligence.

"The question is what are we to do about it, sisters," the third spoke with contemplation. The third beauty stepped forward from the shadows. She wore a gown of deep blue, her long raven hair flowed freely, her intelligent almond shaped eyes inspected the teen with curiosity and sadness.

A sigh of despair escapes her, "It is a heavy burden to hold the fate of gods and mortals in our hands, sisters."

"Yet, it is the task entrusted to us," spoke the second.

"But why should one of our children suffer so," asked the first.

"You know it was not supposed to be," said the second, "though we have domain over gods and mortal's destiny's we are stilled limited by the decree that mortals have free will. Rest assure, sisters, this was not fault, but the fault of mortals who meddle in affairs of higher beings."

"Then, how do we save our child and restore the balance that has resulted by meddlesome mortals," the first asks.

"We give him the chance to become the powerful leader and champion that he was always meant to be," the third speaks, glancing to see if her sisters agree.

"Then we are in agreement," the second notice the nod of consent and look of determination in her sisters' eyes.

"Good, then let us depart this place with out child," the second commanded.

The foursome disappeared in a flash of light. The wind started howling and the rain pelted the fortress with icy waterdrops. The dementors continued to circle the now empty prison. Around the world unfroze, but on the island several pops of apparition signaled the arrival of the aurors and other ministry personnel.

End of chapter notes:

I want to say that though part of this story's title is Child of Destiny. I don't mean that he is literally a child of destiny/fate.

As for the Norn/Moirai I wanted to be more representative of everyone and every mythical pantheon. As I may continue this story outside of fandom with crossovers where he may meet up with deities from other pantheons that European.

Next, chapter we will see where the Fates have taken Harry.