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CHAPTER SIX: FORGOTTEN
I stand now, as I have so many times before, in front of the spiraling towers and thick, stone walls of Hogwarts castle. It is the same as it always was; yet looks very different to me now than it did before. Its enormous size and bold, gargantuan structure that used to speak of magnificence and beauty are now seen as an impressive display of power and masterdom. There is no doubt that the castle is aesthetically pleasing, but it now looks to me more like a war fortress, a stronghold, than a school. And maybe it is.
They don't bother to keep the prisoners of Azkaban well informed on what's going on in the outside world. No need to keep updated on a world you will never again see let alone be a part of, now is there? But then again, that isn't always the case, now is it? I'm sure that those in for minor felonies are allowed luxuries such as newspapers, or at least the guards talk to them about what's going on at times. But when you're in for murder? You're lucky to have the tattered scrap of cloth they have the audacity to call a blanket and the stale bread and dirty water they serve at every meal. When you're a murderer, they don't care about too much except for keeping you alive, and only so that you may suffer all the more to atone your crimes.
But I didn't do anything...at least not anything that Voldemort didn't force me to do. I tried to tell them; I think some of them might even have believed me, but in the end, it didn't do me a scrap of good. I can understand why they were scared; I was terrified when I found out, terrified when I saw what had happened, the cold, lifeless bodies. But it wasn't me, it was Voldemort. It was Voldemort, but...they locked me up for the crime, for a crime that I didn't do. And for that, for the irreversible damage and suffering I experienced in Azkaban, I don't think I can ever forgive them.
Speaking of them, here they come now. Probably to sneer and glare and shout more hateful remarks at me, like they did right after the trial. No matter, I can take it. I have relived every scornful glance and scathing remark any of them has ever given me over and over again as the dementors made me agonize over my most terrible, horrible, depressing memories hour upon hour, day after day, until finally I became almost desensitized to them. So let them heap on every insult they can think of; I'm beyond the point of caring. These people are ignorant; their opinions are uninformed and therefore without relevance, without meaning. I know the truth and that's all that matters.
And here they are. Hermione and Ron. Supposedly my two best friends. Some friends they turned out to be. McGonagal and Snape, Pomfrey and Hooch. It makes me sick to see them all again. I remember what they did to me, all the things they said. They had no right to treat me the way that they did. And finally, last but definitely not least: Dumbledor, the leader of the pack. No words could describe the depth of my hatred for this old fraud of a wizard whom I, at one point, consider a friend and confidant, a figure to be trusted above all else. His betrayal stabbed me the deepest, hurt the most out of all of them. For it was he that I had the most hope in; I actually thought that he would believe me and protect me from the ministry. I was a fool.
They approach, each taking the appropriate amount of time to assess my pitiful appearance and give me a heated glare before studiously ignoring me as if I was nothing more than dirt beneath their feet. Ouch, that really hurts. Ron is the first to reach us and he is the one who seems the most upset out of all of them. They didn't even know I was going to be coming here; they all thought I was going to be sent to Saint Mungoo's didn't they? Well, surprise! For some reason I find this encounter rather amusing despite my trepidation on approaching the castle. Anything they say or do will only fuel my anger and ignite my wrath. It looks like the Weasel is about to speak, or more likely yell; this should be interesting.
"Dad?! I thought you said he was going to Mungo's! It's bad enough that he's no longer in Azkaban—he deserves to rot in there—but what the hell is he doing here?!" Uh-oh, he doesn't sound too happy, now does he? Hmm...interesting that my mere presence could evoke such a reaction from him...yes, this might actually be somewhat fun. Now there's something I haven't had in a long time; I think I'm going to enjoy this. I'll just have to wait 'til the opportune moment to voice my opinion on everything that's happened.
"Damn hospital messed up the paperwork. Potter's going to have to stay here. I'm sure there's a dungeon we can lock him up in where he won't be a danger to anyone. We don't have any choice, Ron, so we'll just have to make do. Besides, I...well, from what we've seen so far...Potter isn't all there in the head. I doubt he'd be capable of doing anything even if he did have the means to do so." After this statement everyone's gaze once again was fixed upon me, though this time it was much more analytical. No one seemed very upset, though; go figure.
After scrutinizing me for a couple of moments (I all the while staring with a glazed look and slack jaw at a brown patch in the lush Hogwart's lawn) Hermione turned to the assembled group and declared her 'expert' opinion. "I believe you are right. He most certainly appears to be insane. No less than he deserves I'd say, after what he did."
Well, that's very interesting that you'd say that Hermione, especially since I'm fucking innocent and didn't deserve any of the shit all of you gave me, let alone being put in bloody Azkaban at 15 years of age. Granger thinks that she's sooo smart, but she doesn't have a God damned clue. None of them do. They all sit there and nod their heads, agreeing with Hermione's assessment and her declaration of hatred toward me. They look like little bobble head dolls, nodding their heads, up and down, like silly little puppets, because it's all they know how to do. I would almost pity them for their stupidity, if it weren't for the fact that it cost me my life, or more accurately my happiness. They don't know anything, and they're too ignorant even to realize that they don't know.
I've just about had enough of their bullshit, but it looks like their ringleader wants to put in a few words; I'm sure he'll have something very...insightful to say. "I'm afraid that in this one instance, Miss Granger, you are quite mistaken." Well, no shit Sherlock, you don't say? Of course, the way Dumbledor says it, his voice appropriately sagacious and a solemn look creasing his wrinkled face; everyone around him hangs on his every word. I must give him one thing; he's a bloody good actor, though perhaps deceiver would be the more correct term.
Hermione, of course, looks incredulously at Dumbledor, hardly able to believe that she, know-it-all-Granger, could have possibly been mistaken on anything, let alone this. "What do you mean, Professor?" She looks apprehensive about what the answer to that simple question could possibly be, in fact, they all do, as they unconsciously lean in closer to Dumbledor, curious to know what words of wisdom he has for them today.
"I'm afraid that Mr. Potter here did not deserve to be placed in Azkaban, though that was the only option available at the time." He explains this as if it were the most simple and obvious answer, his expression knowledgeable yet grim at the same time. I must say that I'm not impressed. He knew the whole time that I was innocent, or at least he has known for a while, yet he did nothing to stop my being imprisoned. The only option?! What kind of bullshit is that? I can think of plenty of other options, namely ones that didn't involve me being thrown into a cell and locked away for I don't even know how long with nothing but dementors and guards that wished only for my pain and suffering to keep me company. "You see, Harry did kill his muggle relatives, the Dursleys, but he was not himself when he did so. It was his hand that held the wand that did it, and his voice that muttered the killing curse, but in truth it was not him. Voldemort, it seems, found a way to manipulate the bond that he and Harry share, for they are bound together by the curse that failed, and used it to gain control over Harry, much like gaining control over someone by using the imperio curse. I have known this for quite some time, but I kept this information to myself knowing that as long as Voldemort could gain control over Harry's mind as he had, Harry would be a danger to not only those around him but also to himself. I knew that the ministry and the wizarding world at large would settle for nothing less than Harry's placement in Azkaban, and I fear I must admit that I too wished for him to be locked away, if only to keep him out of Voldemort's reach." A deathly silence now blankets the small gathering, everyone besides Dumbledor and myself are now standing stock- still, eyes wide and mouths hanging slightly open in surprise and shock.
Finally someone breaks the silence, it's Mr. Weasley, his voice is barely above a whisper and hoarse with emotion. "He was innocent...all this time...but he was innocent..." His voice trails off, almost as if he didn't know that he was speaking aloud, but more as if he was voicing his own thoughts aloud to himself, trying to make sense of all that he had heard. I sneak glances at everyone gathered around, most of them look as if they are about to cry, an incredible sadness washed over their features. It makes me happy to see their pain. Did they never even think about the possibility that I could be innocent? They never even bothered to question the facts that they were given, they knew me and yet they were so easily convinced of my guilt.
They all keep sneaking guilty glances my way, and finally someone decides to try and say something directly to me. It's Hermione, and this time when she speaks she looks incredibly unsure of herself, as if she's lost all confidence in herself and her judgment. "Harry? Harry, can you hear me? I'm so sorry Harry...I...I didn't know. We didn't know...please, speak to me Harry...you can't really be..." Her words are intermingled with sobs as she desperately attempts to plead for forgiveness and my sanity. As they all look at me, their gazes now taking in my pathetic appearance with pity and guilt, I can practically hear the question burning on all of their minds, 'Is he sane?' And it seems that this is my cue; it's time to give them a piece of my mind and a tongue-lashing they won't ever forget if I have any say in it.
Author's note: Thanks for the reviews! I know it took me a whole week to get this chapter up, and I'm sorry. I've been busy with school and stuff. By the way, did any of you check out my website? I posted the first part of this chapter on there a couple of days ago. Anyways, I hope you liked this chapter. Hopefully it answered some of the questions I know everyone has. It's kind of vague, but a more detailed explanation will be provided in a later chapter. Next chapter Harry chews everyone out. Yeah! I don't know when chapter seven will be out, but probably within the next week. This chapter is a bit longer than the others, so hopefully it can tide you over 'til I get a chance to post the next chapter. I didn't really check over this chapter very well before I posted it (as soon as I finished it I decided to upload it) so if you see any mistakes (I'm not quite sure on the spelling for some of the names) then please let me know.