AN: ….. holy crap! I just signed onto my computer, and my yahoo pops up, do you know what it said? It said I have 20 something e-mails. Can you imagine my surprise when I see that they are all reviews? For me no less? I must tell you that I was literally bouncing around my small purple room when I read them (my cranky house mates can attest to this as they did not appreciate being woken up to my delighted squeals at 2 in the morning)

Also some good news! While I have been unable to update because of the virus thingie that has put a standstill to updating, coupled with my recently developed insomnia, I have finished chapters 1-7 in the last night!

I also need to say that the song used in the previous chapter is called "sound the bugle" and its by Brain Adams, from the Spirit of the Cimarron soundtrack. (Side note: this song is what inspired the fic really.)

Happy reading!!

Chapter two

"Hello Harry Potter, The boy-who-killed."

She smirked at him as his eyes widened of their own accord.

"I thought that little ditty would get your attention, I really didn't know ho-"

"Your hair!" He exclaimed, his voice raspy from disuse, for now with this moonlight shining through the windows in the corridor, he could see that her hair was now a midnight black, whereas before it was as red as a Weasley.

She blinked at the interruption, then gave a small smile. "You might be familiar with the polyjuice potion? I used it to frame myself, cant have my real name blackened when I can just make one up."

Harry frowned, 'framed herself? Why on earth would anyone frame themselves to get into Azkaban?'

"I have my reasons" She stated coolly, raising an elegant eyebrow when he started at her claim.

"How did you kn-" he started, his throat aching

"You were muttering out loud, probably an effect of being alone so long." At this a flash of something crossed her face, and Harry realized it was pity. He frowned as he knew that he should be angry, he hated pity, he didn't want it. But now it seemed as if he could care less. What did it matter if some lunatic pitied him. And this girl was obviously a lunatic. Breaking IN to Azkaban must be a first… wait no. Harry recalled something like that. A flash of a memory, the tri-wizard tournament, his professor melting away to produce a stranger. His tale of his escape, a mother replacing him. He remembered now. Barty Crouch was able to escape because of his mothers sacrifice, to take his place in the prison.

Harry shook his head and derailed that train of thought before it could lead to any other unpleasant memories. But this girl, he pondered as he looked back at her. She was watching him, waiting for him to make the next move. She broke in, so there must be something in here that she needed out… or at least to pass it on.

He realized quickly that this girl could easily be a death eater in disguise, seeking him out. "Why did you come here? What do you want?" he questioned, glaring into her piercing blue eyes.

"You. I came for you."