This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Chapter I - Hell on earth
Azkaban, prison to the wizarding world, keeper of the most evil men and women to ever grace the earth, home to some of the most evil and vile creatures ever encountered by mankind, a place where souls are taken, your worst fears used against you and bodies left to rot . Azkaban is the epitaph of hell, this hideous place located in the far north of the North Sea, cold and dismal conditions await any who are condemned to reside within it's dark and grimy walls.
Centuries of dirt, blood, sweat and tears coat every surface within the walls of Azkaban, the men and women condemned there are forced to live in cells only five foot by five foot. Most will never leave this place, but merely live the rest of their lives trapped with their own worst memories, reliving the worst times of their lives, over and over again.
The guards of this prison are among the most feared creatures in the wizarding world, creatures that can deal you a fate much worst than death. Tall, cloaked in black, hooded and no visible bodies these creatures have the power to invoke fear above anything else. A deathly cold is the first clue that you are in the presence of a Dementor, shortly followed by the sound of slow, rattling unearthly breaths and a sudden drop in light. You do not have long to notice this sudden drop in temperature or react to the sound of those rattling breaths before you are pulled within you own mind, back to the worst times of your life, reliving them again and again. There is only one chance of survival, to summon the happiest moment of your life, relive it, and chant the incantation Expecto Potronum, of course this is far easier said than done, and as for the prisoners of Azkaban they have no wand and therefore no hope
The worst of the Dementor's weapons is far more gruesome than making their victims retreat to a life within their mind. Seconds before they use this terrible thing the victim will find that a Dementor does indeed have a body; a head of rotting, scabbed, decomposing flesh is lowered inch by inch towards the unwitting victim. No visible eyes or nose, only a mouth is what they see, but this mouth is not used for feeding on fruits or meats, no it is used for a far more terrible deed than that, for you see these creatures feed on the souls of humans, sucking it out through the very mouths of their victims.
But the prisoner of Azkaban are not administered the Dementor's kiss as it is so ironically named; no… they are forced to relieve their fears till the day they die. Most will die within a few months of being sent to this hell on earth, too weak to pull themselves out of their minds to feed on the scraps of stale food that are delivered every two days. Some however are forced to live year upon year wishing they where weaker, wishing that they could just curl up in the corner of their cells and die.
Screams constantly fill the air has your fellow prisoners are tormented day after day, sobs can be heard out of men that where at one time feared above all else, men and women can be heard begging for mercy, begging for the memories to stop, begging for a end to their pitiful lives. The air is thick with the smell of urine, faeces and the decomposing flesh of the not too recent dead. Thousands upon thousands of rats can be seen scurrying around feeding on the rotting bodies, their hunger for flesh so high that they bite the living in their sleep.
No light penetrates the walls of Azkaban, there are no windows or torches to light the claustrophobic cells, prisoners that are sentenced to life imprisonment will never again see light, never fell the warmth of the sun against their skin or the feel of grass beneath their feet. Never again will they be given the luxury of washing their faces, brushing their teeth or looking at themselves in the mirror. Forced to live in cells containing only a blanket and a hole in the floor for a toilet, thick steel doors hold them inside, doors that are only ever opened twice, once on the way in and once when they remove your heavily decomposed and partly eaten body.
This is what life is like in Azkaban, many wizards and witches argue that this is what these evil men and women deserve, maybe so, but what of the innocent, those that do not deserve to be there, those that did not commit the crimes for which they where sentenced, those that where sentenced without trial by a corrupt government, those that know they are innocent. Do they not deserve the right to normal lives like everybody else, do they not deserve the right to be set free, the right to be innocent until proven guilty.
This story is about one such person, a person who not only didn't commit the crimes for which he was condemned , not only sentenced by a corrupt government that didn't give him a trial, but this person lost everybody he held close to him in the process. People that he counted as friends, people that he counted as good as family, people he thought he could trust. He would have walked to the end of the world and back for these people, believed in their innocence even if the evidenced pointed against it, hell he would have jumped in front of the killing curse for any one of them.
So how then did these people repay him for all the years that he had shown them unwavering loyalty? How did they repay him for trusting them with his innermost secrets, for being their when they needed him the most, for being the shoulder to cry on, for loving them like they where part of his family, the only family he had ever known? Did they show him the loyalty that he had shown them, stand up for him in his time of need, believe in his innocence when he needed them the most? No they did not, they turned their backs on him when he needed them more than anything, distanced themselves as far away from him as possible, believed in his guilt.
Never will he forget that day for the rest of his life, how could he with these monsters standing mere inches on the other side of that steel door, the door that shut him off from the world in which he really belonged. The looks on their faces when the evidenced had been recited had been played so many times in his head for the first two years that he will never again forget them.
This person however was different from all of the other people in Azkaban, this was Harry Potter, the boy who lived, savour of the wizarding world at the age of one, the person prophesied to be the only person to be able to defeat the dark lord Voldemort. How then could a mere Dementor drive him to insanity? They couldn't. In the first two years he had come close, but he had always known in his innocence. Dementor's that feed on feelings could not take that away from him, for it was not a feeling, it was a fact.
He was a powerful wizard, very powerful, his power has grown to almost unimaginable levels over the years that he has spent in this earthbound hell. He had been but a mere sixteen year old boy when they had sentenced him to this unholy existence, he had been powerful then but now he was a fully grown man, twenty six years of age and his magical powers had grown a great deal.
Harry Potter could be found at this point in time sitting in the corner of one of the most heavily guarded cells, staring at that metal door that was keeping him from the world that he deserved to be in. He was thin, deathly thin from the severe lack of food that the prisoners are fed and his skin was pale from lack of sun. If one was to observe him from the outside of the cell then they could believe that he was dead, he sat perfectly still, unmoving for hours at a time, staring at the same point of the door all the time. His eyes however where more alive than anybody could imagine after ten years in that small space, but they where, his emerald green eyes shone brightly and showed that although he may have been physically drained over the years that his psychological state was near on perfect.
Nobody would be able to tell but Harry Potter was listening at the moment, he had just heard something that was about to make his day. He had heard a voice, a voice that he recognized from all those years ago when he was free, and it was getting closer. He had been listening for the past twenty minutes as the owner of the voice had slowly made his way down the corridor checking on the prisoners and the security of the prison. He was talking to the prisoners, but the only answers that he would get from people here would be screams or muffled sobs. He was patronizing them, asking them how it felt to be punished for their crimes, bragging about how it was he that had brought their downfall. If Harry's hearing was correct then he was accompanied by at least six other, probably there for the his protection.
Finally he heard the footsteps stop outside of his cell, his gaze didn't falter however, he remained staring at that same place on the door. He could here the voices outside of the door going through the necessary paperwork before they would try to communicate with him.
"So who do we have next Kingsley?" came the voice of the reigning Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge.
"Harry James Potter, mental status unknown" came the curt reply.
"Well this should be good fun" Fudge replied with what sounded like a joyful tone of voice.
Suddenly the point in the door that Harry had been staring at slid to the side to reveal the face of Fudge smiling merrily at the inside of the cell. Harry's gaze still didn't falter, he wouldn't give them the chance to see him cower away from them.
"Ah, hello Potter, how are you enjoying your stay at are little hotel?" Fudge ask Harry his smile not faltering one bit. Harry didn't answer and it seemed that Fudge wasn't expecting him too as he carried of speaking without giving opportunity to answer. "All those time that you have given the Ministry hell and now you are here where you disserve to be, rotting away like the rest of these villains" he said now changing his joyous voice for one of absolute loathing.
"Did you think that you could get away with it for ever just because you where Dumbledore's favourite?" he continued in that same harsh tone "Well no your where you deserve to be! Come along now gentlemen we'll get no sense here"
He started to walk away thinking that the conversation was over, he froze in his place however when he heard a calm voice speak his voice from behind.
"Fudge, you know as well as I that I do not deserve to be here" said Harry as calmly has he could master. He could see by the look on Fudges face that he had been shocked to find that he could talk to him like normal.
"You are nothing but an arrogant, pompous excuse for a man Minister, jailing innocent men so that it will buy you points in the next election. Tell me Minister how much did Voldemort pay you to send me here?" Harry asked his voice getting louder and louder as he spoke.
Harry quite enjoyed watching the Minister and his men flinch and jump as he spoke the name Voldemort and the look of absolute shock on their faces that he had managed to keep his mind.
"I don't know what your talking about Potter, you where found guilty of your crimes" Fudge finally spat.
"You and I both know that I never received a trial" Harry replied with the same tone of voice as Fudge.
"Ridiculous, a trial was not needed we had all the evidence we required" Fudge blustered.
"I wonder Minister" Harry said now regaining I calm composure "how long I will remain here?"
"You where jailed for life Potter and that is how long you shall stay" Fudge said now regaining his joyous tone.
"Perhaps you misunderstand me Minister, I was merely wondering how long I shall decide to stay here" declared Harry in that same calm demeanour.
"Ha! Have you heard him men he really is insane, make sure you make I note! Come along we have quite a few more left to check". With that he slammed the opening on the door shut again and started to make his way to the next cell.
"Can you believe him, he thinks he can break out" he said to his men barely able to contain his laughter "he always was a bit of a trouble causer, even while he was at sch…"
The rest of his little speech was cut of by bang form behind them, all seven men span around quickly to see the door of Potters cell flying into the opposite wall, and their standing in the middle of the corridor was Harry Potter himself, standing tall and looking absolutely livid.
"G-Get h-him" Fudge managed to get out after about thirty seconds.
It was all over though as soon as it started, Potter through his hand up into the air and that his the last that Fudge and his men remember seeing until hours later they awoke, in the same corridor. Dementor's robes where scattered all around, they couldn't believe their eyes, it was supposed to be impossible to kill a Dementor. Stunned aurours where lying all over the floor where they had been stunned, and their was no sign of Potter anywhere. One fought was constantly running through the head of Minister Fudge this is a gad darn disaster.