I came up with the idea of this fic, and being writing blocked on my other fics, I wrote it. I will try to get this one done and then work on my other ones, not necessarily in that order of course. This will or may be slash. Any suggestions are asked for. If you want me to notify you of a new chapter (for any of my fics) leave you email around.

Fox.

Title: Darkness burning

Pairing: none yet.

Rating: PG

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any thing else but my imagination, and I am not even sure of that.



Prologue

"Hello, miss, what may I do for you today?" Said an old man made of messy white hair and shadowed black wrinkles stuffed in an over tight pants and shirt that squished rolling fat out of his shirt. A greasy hamburger lay half eaten on the hospital white counter. The entire room was white but for the man, her, and a sign above the counter announcing the building she was in: The Eastville Mental Institution.

"Hello, mister, I am looking for a man…" She said as she looked at the greasy stains on his shirt.

"Well, you came to the right place. I have been told that I am quite the pleaser," the pervert winked at her.

"Sorry, but you don't match the picture I have here." She held up the picture, smeared and old almost like the men but not of the man or anyone like the man. From the picture stared a boy's face with sparkling green eyes almost covering the slight sadness. As the old man blinked in some sodden surprise (maybe he recognized the picture? Could her search be done?), the boy in the picture blinked quickly; it was hard staying so still.]

"Well, you have come to the right place also my dear, but are you sure you want him? He is a loon, totally crazy, crazier then most in here! He talks awake and asleep of things, people, events that do not exist. The nurses have to restrain him." –Her eyes widen with worry at the word restrain – "Madam V. doesn't even like us going near him, and --"

"Enough. I will see him right now, mister."

"Are you family?"

"No, friend."

"Then you cannot see him, miss; no one but us workers are allowed to see him. And that's it. Though if you would favor me with a few favors, I might be able to sneak you in."

That was it. She would not do anything for this slim and would defiantly not listen to this pervert. Wincing for she knew she would be breaking some muggle protraction law, she took out her wand and murmured the words to freeze the man for a small bit, just enough for her to get to the boy in the picture. The man was completely frozen when she put a memory charm on him. When he would awaken, she would not exist, at least, to him.

Holding the picture in a slightly hard grip (disguised nervousness? Nay…) which made the boy in it wince and hide in the corner, she left the white room for more white rooms. She needed to find a nurse, and ask again, though this time she would be "family" and find him in this maze of hotel white and cleanliness.

Finally, a nurse, coming out of a patient's room. She was the opposite of the man at the front. Makeup perfect, clothing fitting and designer, face blank, a robot almost, but a robot that could lead the visitor to boy in the photo.

The nurse saw her, of course; nothing could or would get by this nurse.

"Hello, miss, may I ask hat you are doing in this area of the building without an escort or visitors pass?"

The visitor held up the picture, which was still again though still in the area away from her grip. "I am family, can I see him?"

The nurse looked at the picture, then the holders face, and sniffed. She knew the lie, but nodded at the liar and led her away and deep into the building. As they walked, the stairs led them under the ground, and then farther under. The walls changed from hospital white to dungeon gray. Cracks, sniffed at by the nurse, and other such dungeon qualities appeared to complement the wall colour. Cold metal bars held in whatever was in the cells around her; sometimes people would call to her from their cells with nonsense and gibberish.

"Why are the people treated like this?" The visitor murmured as she looked into the crazy, hopeless eyes of an old woman.

"The are the family-less, money-less, and the hopeless cases." The nurse said as if it was nothing, as if the people were nothing and no one. It was disgusting. She, the visitor, would figure out how to free these poor people, after getting him out of here.

The nurse led on, pass the poor humans, and some maybe not humans; she felt the distinct mark of a vampire when marching past one cell. The walls came closer and closer to trapping her in this hellhole as the light went on vacation except for half dead bulbs stuck just enough to walk without tripping. The nurse in front of her wore a bland expression as if this place didn't affect her at all.

"Room 999, John Doe." The nurse said as she stopped and opened the door. Some sort of gun type thing had appeared in her hand. "Mr. John Doe, you have a visitor."

A faint scratchy sound, sort of like clothe against stonewall, and a pant of heavy breathing came from the black room. Heavy, sloppy footsteps next with more heavy breathing as John Doe went to the light.

"Who is it? Who comes to torment me more? A doctor with your little cures? Or maybe my nightmare, dead living of friends I caused dead with my stupidity?" The voice sounded drunk and slurred as the footsteps slowed down and a light shadow came out of the room. He didn't sound crazy, only like an old man with a young but weary voice.

The visitor frowned slightly and moved toward the shadow. "Harry, is that you?"

The shadow fell, tumbled out of the room and into the visitor's arms. Raggedy clothing made the patent decent but barely that. Flies feasted off what could only be rot on the very skin of his arms. Hair like a savage from a cheap movie hid the face and neck. An udder of medicine and filth filled the air around them. Arm hair covered some of the new scars from rat bites and self-hatred, making barely visible the old scars of the time before this man was here and a time of great deeds and battles against the dark and evil.

The visitor swept back his banks and outlined the lightning shaped scar on his forehead. "Oh, Harry, it is you."

The man blinked before squinting up at her. His vision blurred as he saw the sight he thought dead. "Hermione, you are alive? But, you died. I saw you die."

"No Harry, I am alive. I had to play a small trick on you so you would defeat you-know-who."

"Voldemore."

"Yes, him. I'm sorry, can you forgive me? No, not know; that is not what I was sent to find you for. Harry, he's back. We do not know how, but he's back. You must come and help us again, will you?"

"No."