"Jack Sparrow…" a familiar thick accented woman said laughing his name as if it were something funny. She was swaying towards him through the thick black fog.

"Tia? Whatever it is, I'm done. Yep. Just goin' around the seas with me ship from now on with the occasional adventure or two. Perhaps not," Jack said. He had no idea where he was or how he got there. He did feel better, physically as there was no more pain. In fact, he felt like he could have a nice run with the cannibals of Pelagoes again.

He heard Tia Dalma snap her fingers, or maybe broke someone else's fingers, and the black scenery was changed to that of her swamp shack at night.

"Ah, night time again I see," Jack said commenting. No matter how early he took the long boat to see Tia, it always turned to night when he came to see her.

"Do ye not care where ye end up?" Tia asked taking a step closer to him and wrapped her dark skin around his.

" S'not I don't care. It's because I care that I don't care but still care all the same," Jack said relishing their embrace, but stepped away. "I've been dead. I came back. What more can I man like myself expect?"

"Aye, but that was in the Locker. Now you've strayed so far from home…there is no Locker for ye," Tia circled Jack with a finger trailing around him until she stopped in front of him.

"Have I now," Jack said rather than question the woman. "This will be fun."

"I have seen into dis and I find that you won't. Thrown back into a world which you do not want to be in. We will meet at a crossroad once more before yer death," Tia said walking away from him.

"Literally or figurately?" Jack asked with a confused grin.

Tia stopped and it looked like she was memorizing Jack's features. She shook her head and smiled before she completely disappeared.

There was an intense pain that started from his chest and worked its way through his whole body. Jack staggered back a few steps and closed his eyes from the pain. Pain laced everywhere and filled in spaces of him that he hasn't felt in a long while. He dropped to his knees and tried to breathe. He wasn't getting enough air to keep him alive. What is going on? Another shock of pain and he opened his eyes. He was no longer in Tia's swamp.

"He's in bad shape, but stable. Someone needs to get him more potions for that infection and the decayed flesh. Where the bloody hell is that blood replenishing potion?" a strange and angry voice demanded.

"I'll get it," a woman said.

There were people in white surrounding him. His eyes darted everywhere trying to find an exit, an escape. Hands held him down as he fought out of their grasp. Strange colours of light exploded in front of his eyes that came with strange words being spoken. Those strange stickswere being pointed at him, they were the cause of it all.

"Mr. Gibbs! Cotton! Martin?" Jack cried out the names of his crew. His arm was free and he thrust it out, as if expecting one of them to grab it and lead him away from this hell. No one did, they just held him down.

Jack continued to wrestle with them. If he must, he would have to take a hostage to ensure his freedom. But before he could move another muscle, a familiar voice broke through.

"Stupify," the red haired man, Ron, said pointing his stick at him as a rush of red light hit him.

Just as his eyes closed, he saw a snake-like man fill his vision. He could feel the hate radiating off the man and soaking itself inside him. He hated that Ron! Looking at the pale face, a word entered his mind filling with hate. Just one word. He didn't even know what it meant. He didn't know he whispered it before the spell took it's toll in that split second.

"Voldemort…"

The room grew cold and quiet. They each knew what he said and shuddered while they watched the man sleep under them. Questions popped into their heads and the press would a field day with the return of Harry Potter. Now that Harry Potter was back in London after 18 years, will the real Voldemort come out of hiding? How will Harry Potter react to being in 2018 and being a father?

The room was like a dungeon and it was full of people. There were strange devices everywhere and the people were in terrible fashion taste. On a higher platform, a group of old people wore these plum-coloured robes. He could almost see the silver 'W' embroidered into the front. There was something oddly magical about this place. He's been here before, but he can't recall when.

Strangely, he could feel aches all over his body as he observes the room. He could feel the bandages bound tightly against all over his body. He felt the bandaged eye patch over his left eye and the limp that accompanied him as he took a step forward with his hand clutching a cane.

"There, there now, Harry," he felt someone pat him lightly in the only area where he did not ache. The voice was oddly familiar and yet unfamiliar. "They'll see right through your ex…Best get in now before they'll drop the case."

"I hate anything relating to courts, law, drugs, potions, dark wizards out to get me, toad women, trials, potion masters with greasy hair and an abnormally sized nose," he heard himself say before the man next to him swatted the backside of his head. He sounded much younger and less drunk. "I'm injured here you know. Show some consideration to the Bloody-Boy-Who-Did-Not-Live-Happily-Ever-After. Who bloody pressed charges anyways? I just want to crawl into bed and wait for all this to blow over."

"Well you're here now and it was the wizarding world, the people you fought for," the familiar voice said. "They think they're doing YOU a favor. Funny."

He turned around and with his good eye he saw who was talking to him. The man was a few inches taller than him with greasy hair, well it wasn't that greasy. There was a sense of familiarity with him, but he didn't press it.

"Fought for? Ha. I didn't know you knew how to tell jokes, golem. Pity."

"Sometimes I swear you sound just like our Dark Lord before he passed on…"

"Stick with the story we discussed. Voldemort is gone. You're some distant relative from Snape, my gardener. I'm mental. Scratch that, I am mental and tired."

"Whatever. Be glad I even bailed you from those muggle doctors or else they would have had their way with you-"

"Now that would have been a shame," he interrupted with a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"- and that darn potion did not heal you at all. Well it did, but then they re-broke themselves because you strained yourself before the potion could finish."

"A lesson learned," he said sounding empty and hollow.

"I don't see why you won't let them heal you magically."

"Because it makes the situation much more complicated. And I can only allow you to see those scars on my back. If anyone other than you did, they'd be hysterical. Take your place," he said.

He took one step into the dungeon of a court. It grew noticeably silent as the wizards and witches took in the silent of what remained of Harry James Potter, their tragic hero, their savior, their Boy-Who-Lived. Though he wore the finest clothes and robes in black with a dark green outlining the seems, which made him seem very much like a Slytherin, it did not hinder how terrible he looked during the past week since it happened and how much the young man could have aged.

He crossed the room, knowing that everyone watched his every move with the strange man trailing him. He took a seat on a bench and saw the people he once called friends with their families, Remus Lupin and Tonks, a few of what remained of the Order of the Phoenix, his old Headmistress of Hogwarts, and Rita Skeeter. The people who weren't there were Charlie and Percy Weasley, Hagrid, Draco Malfoy, and Severus Snape, himself, because they were all deceased in the second half of the war. He ignored their comforting smiles and greetings. How could they still smile after all that has happened between them?

What happened in the next forty-five minutes, he tuned out. His head bobbed up and down as he fought to stay awake. It wasn't that the court was boring (though it was), it was because he was simply tired. On more than one occasion, he felt the golem next to him prod him sharply on the side. Then, he felt the golem place his arm on the back of the bench so that he was closer to him, close enough to whisper or kiss. Everyone behind them wondered what was happening between the two men as the younger of the two jerked his head up, look up, and then punch the man softly.

The older of the two would gently wrap his arm close to Harry and pull him towards him. He didn't resist because he was tired. For a few seconds, he was in blissful sleep surrounded in warmth from the body next to him. Then, without any warning, his body shuddered and he sat up straight.

"Are we boring you, Mister Potter?" someone from the Wizengamot asked.

"No," he said. "I'm afraid it would be the medication my…doctor gave me. Side effects. Please continue with your…interrogation."

"Miss Lactucarium," an elderly looking wizard looked down from his papers. "Is there a clear motive of why you did this act?"

"When did they put her on?" Harry whispered tiredly.

"For the past thirteen minutes or so. Give or take. She is putting up quite the performance."

"Was it an act in retaliation for You-Know-Who?" a new reporter asked.

"Was it because you didn't love him?" another asked.

"Can you give us a statement?"

"Over here! Look this way!" Flashbulbs brought white spots to their eyes and Harry was almost sure he was close to having a seizer.

"Silence!" the elderly wizard said. The room grew quiet with the exception of several people still mumbling in the back and the scratch of their quills against the rough parchment.

"Perhaps. Mainly because I didn't like him," Datura said. She was in a dirty gray robe and slouched in the chained chair. "And the nights were unbearable. Not that he was terrible in bed, he was possibly like some sort descendant lovechild of Ares and Eros because he was that good. Anyways, there'd be times at night were he had this nightmare. He told me about it once…I still find it all ridiculous. Can you believe that this savior of yours bawls like a wittle baby when he had a nightmare? Honestly, just because he saw a few close people to him die, really does ruins his image. I can hear him screaming even after I moved to the guest rooms on the other side of the mansion."

"Why did you not tell him so or wake him?"

"What's the point? He'll just do it again later in the week. So about the club thing…He was fine at first, but then he let those muggle clubbers into the basement and they partied all the time."

"Mister Potter, do you care to elaborate?"

He stifled down a yawn and nodded his head. "That mansion I own is both a licensed club-party-pub-thing and a home I go to relax in. I like to call it 'The Vortex' or 'P'. Got the papers back in the flat. Sure I let strangers in, but it's a club you know?"

"I haven't been to one in a while, Mister Potter," the wizard said. "Miss Lactucarium, what about the underground club did you not like?"

"It was loud –"

"I had installed a pretty heavy silencing charm there," Harry interrupted.

"It smelled –"

"It's a club."

"Muggles always around –"

"It is a club you know."

"People smoking –"

"I smoke. See look," Harry said. He produced a cigarette from the inside of his robes and it was lit instantly. He took a huff and exhaled a few smoke rings towards her.

"Don't smoke while the court is in session, Mister Potter," Dolores Umbridge said nastily.

Harry clicked his tongue while looking down trying to act ashamed as he snubbed out his cigarette by putting it in his pocket. It was extinguished immediately. The old toad of a witch looked around wildly.

"Mumbler…"Harry muttered under his breath.

"Smoking is a disgusting habit. I hope you die from lung cancer," Datura said.

"And when I do, I'll make sure to find out if there is a smoking zone in hell. Until then, you're stuck with us, me."

"Enough! This is not a muggle conference! We will not tolerate this any longer!" the Elder said.

The Wizengamot discussed in silence. Very few hands rose in the air once and many rose in the air again. They looked uncertain, yet sticking with their votes.

"You've done it now, Harry," the man next to him said.

"Yeah? Well bugger this. I already know the outcome."

"And that is?"

"We hereby find that Miss Lactucarium is guilty for the crime she commited against Mister Potter and that she has served her time in Azkaban." The old wizard said his voice grave.

People in the background started cheering and Harry could feel them trying to make him look at them.

"But?" His voice rang out clear and strong against the cheers.

"But, Mister Potter, we find that you are the cause of what she did. We are sentencing you to three weeks in house arrest and the guards of Azkaban will be stationed at every door on your property but not before staying in Azkaban with the newly reinstated dementors," he said with a twitch of a smile growing on the corners of hi wrinkled mouth. The old man winked at the direction of Datura. "And that Miss Lactucarium will receive half of the Potter gold to compensate her loss. Good day. Guards."

"Castor that is not what we voted upon," Harry heard one of the Wizengamot whisper sharply to the man.

There were screams and yells of outbursts, but he knew. Someone behind him tittered; Datura smiled icily. Harry inspected his nails.

"You knew, didn't you?" the golem said.

"Now where's the fun in that?" he asked smiling. "Last word, governor?"

"What is it?" the elderly wizard asked smirking.

"A moment with the missus er…miss?"

"If she will allow you so."

"Fine. I got and did what I wanted. No harm can come over me, Potter, while you're surrounded and being carted off to Azkaban. Been there for seven days and it wasn't pretty. So what do you want?" Datura asked smugly.

"This," was all he said.

He crossed the space between them and locked his lips with her. It was a chaste kiss though it lasted rather long. He felt her stiffen from his bold move and continued to hold onto the kiss even as the dementors came for him. As all the happiness was being sucked out from him, he felt the dementor pry him from Datura. Screams filled his head and he felt himself collide with the stone floor. It was finished.

"Don't kiss him you bloody imbecile," he heard his faithful servant say to him in his droning voice. There was a flash of silver light and everything faded.

"Incendio!" he heard Datura's voice and felt the tip of her wand pressing against his chest. Nothing happened and he heard her scream. "My magic!"

"Correction, my magic. Fifty points from the squib," he rasped out and his laugh came out like a bark.

"My lord," the golem kneeled next to him and lifted his head up. He slipped his wand into the sleeve of the other.

"Your magic! Your magic! You mean MY magic!" Datura said hysterically. She shouted more spells at him, but not one worked to everyone's horror.

"It was his to begin with in the first place. He just let you borrow a FRACTION of his magic. You would have kept it if you just married the man, but he knew," the golem said.

"You knew the whole time?" Hermione asked next to him with tears streaming down her face.

"Doesn't matter," he said he flexed his hands feeling the magic run its course through him.

"It does matter!" Ron yelled.

He hated how they were caring about his well being now. That hate fueled him on, releasing something deep within him.

"Oh would you look at that over there! A werewolf!" his golem said diverting the attention away from Harry. Sure enough heads turned towards Remus Lupin. He quickly slipped Harry some calming draught and he did calm down as the potion did its effects on his body. He relaxed.

"I think most of us already knew that fact," Tonks said glaring. "And who do you think you are? Leave Remus and Harry alone!"

"I would like to think I am a potions master teaching all the little pieces of s-darlings at some magical school. Shame though. Unfortunately, I am employed of one such ignorant child whose head is bloated from the fame," the golem said with a scathing sense of humor.

"Oi!" Harry said.

"But my young charge here is very stupid. I'll be waiting," he said to Harry.

"But who are you? I mean you just show up with him and you two are all close. I've been his friend far longer than you!" Ron said angrily.

"True as that may be, Mr. Weasley, but I clearly know him and his secrets better than you. Five points from Gryffindor," the golem said.

"You sound and look just like Sn-"

"Come now, Mister Potter, you mustn't keep the dementors waiting," an official said.

"MY MAGIC! MY MAGIC! IT'S GONE!" Datura kept screaming.

"A lesson learned, my dear," Harry said in oddly hissing voice.

"YOU! YOU DID THIS!" Datura yelled pointing at him.

"Who else? Good bye now. Keep to the plan, Mr. Snive…," he said as two dementors flanked his side and pulled him away.

'Snive?' the golem mouthed back amused, but then something registered in his eyes as they grew wide. "Mister Potter, a moment?"

"What is it my slimy friend?" Harry asked turning slightly sounding somewhat amused. It was clear that he was fighting off the dementor's power, but it helped to know that the golem had some memories…

'Snive' raised his closed fist towards Harry. There was a brief smack of his fist colliding painfully with the wizard's jaw. Before anyone could stop him, 'Snive' disappeared.

He stumbled then slumped against the cold icy hands gripping him and screams filled his head already driving him insane. He knew the ways of evading the dementors effects, but he couldn't do it in public and his new form preferred heat or else.