Authoress' Note: Okay... This is the first chapter of my story. It basically is just an overveiw to what happened before. I didn't want to get into detail on how Harry defeated Voldemort because well.... I didn't want to. I will later on, but not right now. I hope you enjoy reading this and reviews are highly appreciated!
Disclaimer: Sadly, I do not own any of the HP characters or anything cannon that you recognize. I do however own the plot and characters and et cetera that you don't recognize. Don't sue me, you won't get much.
Chapter One: What Happened
That final memory came in sharp, blinding flashes that seared his mind and burned his soul. He wanted more than anything to be able to repel the power of the Dementors. More than that he wanted to forget those most painful memories. Most especially the one when he had seen the brewing hatred in the eyes of his two most beloved friends at the trial.
Hermione Granger and Ronald Weasley had been his best friends since first year and had been there for him through thick and thin. They were the only ones who had understood him, the only ones who had believed him before they even considered listening to anyone else. They were his best friends; his soul mates. At least he had once believed they were. But when the mysterious death of Arthur Weasley, proud husband and father of the Weasleys' had appeared everyone suddenly believed that Harry had done it. The believed that he, Harry Potter, had killed his best friend's father.
During the trial they had used the Veritism Potion on him, hoping to get him to confess to his charges. But Cornelius Fudge was smarter than he looked. Instead of asking directly if Harry had killed Arthur Weasley, he instead asked if he believed he was at fault for the death of Mr. Weasley. Harry knew he hadn't killed Mr. Weasley, but he did truly believe that it had been his fault that Arthur Weasley was dead.
Of course he wasn't able to say all of this because the Minister of Magic wouldn't allow him to elaborate on his answers. The rest of the trial had proceeded in that manner for several hours, and each passing hour the jury and the courtroom started to believe that Harry wasn't the hero they had made him out to be. No, he wasn't a hero at all, he was a criminal and if they were to let him roam free then who's to say that he wouldn't come out as the next Dark Lord? He was already more powerful than Albus Dumbledore and it was rumored that he might someday be just as, or even more powerful than Merlin. No, they couldn't let him free, not when they had finally gotten ridden rid of Voldemort and had already started to slowly rebuild their lives again.
Naturally they had forgotten that it was Harry who had defeated the Dark Lord, and not them. And naturally they had forgotten about the small tiny fact that the old prophesy that had been made many years ago foretold of an angel of light who would rescue them from the darkness, therefore completely putting out the fact that Harry could ever possibly be evil.
But that was past and there was nothing the forgotten hero could do about it. Not that he tried, because he had.
In the beginning he had pounded against the bars of his jail cell that were coppery in color from years of rust and neglect. He'd shouted and cried for mercy, begging for someone to listen to him. Begging for his friends, who'd believed them instead of him.
That had been the last straw; the realization that his friends had abandoned him in the cold heartless world that was Azkaban. And when he realized that, he realized that there was no more hope for anyone ever giving him that one chance that he so desperately wanted. The chance to redeem himself, to tell of his pains. The chance to tell them his story; to tell them how it really happened. To tell them the truth.