July melted into August and the start of Harry's seventh year was set to begin. However, Dumbledore had forwarded a letter from the new Minister of Magic a week into August.

Five pages easily summed up to simply state that the Minister requested Harry at the Ministry of Magic office on August 13th at 6am. Harry read the letter to Ron and Hermione. "6am! Blimey!", exclaimed Ron, "Can't they make it a bit later?" Hermione glared at Ron. "Harry, did Dumbledore send a note with this letter?" she asked suddenly. Harry checked the envelope again and found it was empty. "No. He didn't." Harry sighed. "It has the Hogwarts seal though." Ron observed, pointing to the Hogwarts crest stamped into red wax. "You'd think Dumbledore would give some sort of explanation like why did the Minister send it to him and not directly to you?" Hermione stated, clearly puzzled. Yes, Harry thought, Why didn't the Minister use an official Ministry owl? It was then that Harry realized that today was the 10th. The Ministry would give more than a few days notice, right? The darkening sky rumbled with distant thunder, its sound ringing ominously in the awkward silence.

Six Months later...

His eyes were closed still heavy with sleep. His head throbbed with pain and he became aware of other aches. He could feel that he was moving and tried to open his eyes. The light was too bright and burned through his numb mind. Why couldn't he remember his own name. Closing his eyes again he then became aware of voices. But he was unable to make out what they were saying. He opened his eyes again and could make out the ceiling once his eyes adjusted. He was indeed moving as he concluded as he observed the florescent lights beginning and ending, beginning and ending. He closed his eyes and tried to decipher what the voices were saying, but his throbbing head made it difficult. He opened his eyes again blinking away the last bit of drowsiness. "He has just come over from Penfield." Stated a male voice. The voice lacked any sort of accent and so he simply concluded that he was an American. "He is going to be moved here?" asked another male voice, also American. Penfield, that's an asylum He thought to himself. "He is a psycho killer." voice one stated. "Sweet, what he do?" asked the second. "That's classified, apparently. But he was ordered to be placed in the high security isolation ward here." responded the first. He, the supposed psycho killer that they spoke of, began to feel more awake and opened his eyes once more, "You think he can hear us?" the first voice asked in fearfully. A face appeared over him and frowned. "Doctor, tranquillize him." He felt the distinct prick of a needle in his right forearm and looked over at the doctor the first man spoke to. The doctor was a surgeon with both mouth and nose hidden by a surgical mask, his gloves and apron where covered in blood as if he had just finished an autopsy. His head lolled back and the scene before him faded into blackness.

He awoke once more. He tried to sit up but his wrists were bound to ether side of his stretcher like bed. He sighed and relaxed back down, his body still ached but his headache was thankfully gone. His eyes closed he silently prayed that sweet sleep would return. He couldn't make sense of it all. If only I could get out of these straps. He imagined the bindings undoing themselves. At that thought he felt as if his whole body were levitating upward. He heard the distinct clanking as the straps fell away from his wrists. Than he felt himself back on the stretcher. How? Did I do that? Sitting up straight he looked in the mirror opposite him. He first noticed the scar on his forehead. It was shaped like a lightning bolt. That mark was famous he somehow knew. His bright green eyes scanned the rest of his visage. His body was a wreck. Looked down at his left forearm remembering were the doctor drugged him. Tattooed on it was; HP 036.

HP 036 limped over to the grass door. If I could just reach that switch to open this door. He thought bitterly to himself. He imagined that he probably could put his fist through the glass and reach the switch but right now he felt unbearably weak.. He thought back to the straps that had held him fast to the stretcher. Did I undo them with my mind? Could I do the same with this switch? He focussed all his conscience thoughts on the switch and soon the glass door slide soundlessly open. What else can I do with this new power.

He limped into a room full of computers. He focussed on the one of the monitors and raised his hand out in front of him. With this he felt the power flow to his hand which now glowed a soft blue. His mind still focussed on the monitor he raised his hand up further and to his surprise the monitor obeyed and rose into the air it too glowing a soft blue. He moved his hand as if pushing it towards the wall. The monitor zoomed into the wall and HP 036 shielded his eyes as the monitor shattered with many sparks of electricity flying every which way. He practised his telekinesis till he was familiar with how it worked. Limping through to the next room which was, thankfully, also empty. The room had six hospital beds all were empty. Hospital equipment placed at each bed. Strange. All this hospital equipment and no patients. He made his way to the window and looked down. HP 036 gasped he was at least ten stories up. He continued through the next threshold and stopped. He collapsed on his knees when the pain was just too much. I can't keep going in this condition. He steadied himself when on his feet again clutched his head again. A wave of pain and he felt as if his head was cleaved open. A calm set in as he concentrated on his pain. It ebbed away he stumbled to his feet feeling drained. I suddenly feel better. What else can I do? HP 036 got to his feet and walked into the hall and noticed an elevator. A way out! But to his dismay it needed a code to work. He heard voices and silently slipped into the shadows. Luckily he was not seen. HP 036 turned down the dark corridor and found the guards quarters. He walked calmly into this room and found a keycard on one of the desks. I think I'll just borrow this. "God, he's out!" yelled a startled voice from behind. Startled himself, HP 036 whirled around to face the speaker. It was one of the technicians. The man was now headed for the corridor where the guards were talking. HP 036 stopped the man at the threshold and pulled him back. "How about instead of going to alert the whole building you answer a few questions." He said calmly to the man. The technician whimpered and bolted to the nearest corner. "Why did he have to escape on my shift?" "Okaay? Or you could just huddle in a corner and whimper." HP 036 said with not quiet the sarcastic tone he was aiming for.

He realized it probably would be a mistake to trust that the technician would stay huddled corner and not tell the guards, but brushed that thought aside and proceeded. Whack! As a night stick came into painful contact with his shoulder and he hit the floor and rolled out of the way as the guard took another swing. HP 036 bolted towards his cell as a thought came to mind. Grinning to himself he went to the furthest corner of the isolation cell. As planned the guards followed and he slipped in-between them and quickly pushed the switch to lock the door. The guards, caught unawares, just stared at HP 036 before.. "Ha ha. Very funny. Now be a good psycho and push the switch again so I can brain you." HP 036 just stared at the man with a grin spread wide across his face which consequently made both guard uneasy. "Now, why would I do that." and with that he turned and walked away. "Now this is just great. I suppose you left your radio at home, moron."

"Who you calling a moron. I suppose we couldn't just use yours."

" I dropped mine in my coffee last week."

" I told you to report it and get a new one."

HP 036 sniggered to himself and proceeded to the elevator. He prided himself in his clever, pacifistic way he dealt with the guards. He walked inside and directed the elevator to the lobby. All at once a fresh wave of agony washed over his whole body. The world began to spin and his vision clouded into blackness.

Author's Note: This is the second and final version of Chapter 3.