Disclaimer: I do not, and will *MOST LIKELY* never own Harry Potter or The Chronicles of Riddick Trilogy.

Author's Note: Hi everyone! Please forgive me for the very long wait between updates. I was assaulted with ideas for 'oneshots', started classes towards my nursing degree…and just all around have been frustrated with this chapter. I've torn it apart again and again, trying to make it sensible so I hope you all like it.

I've been so excited to unveil this chapter, I'm actually looking forward to all your responses when you find out who Junner is. I was rather shocked by how many people guessed it to be Sirius (Spoiler alert! It's not him), although because of them I was very tempted to change things around. The idea of the veil warping him enough that he actually wanted to hurt Harry was pretty tempting.

Also, I will tempt you all by saying not a single person (who made a definitive guess) guessed who Junner was correctly – As Stalker of Stories put it, I tend to try to go with the less obvious choices, and I think this one fits the bill.

This story is for Brea45, hopefully this will help her capture her muse for her own works.

Actual Story Word Count: 4,097

Movie time: 9:08 – 13:14 (Not very long, but it covers some very important things)

The Kublai Khan was the largest Merc ship in operation in over 200 years; able to handle a crew of over a hundred men easily as well as hold all others under its captain's employ as well as its prisoners it was a ship to be reckoned with. Sometimes however, being on a ship as large as the Kublai Khan was more than a little inconvenient in Junner's personal opinion; especially when time was of the essence if he was going to interrogate his prisoner thoroughly. After having the Mercs test the green-eyed young man, they learned that he apparently had some innate special abilities that were sometimes seen in the humanoids they captured; this required a special holding cell that would repress the abilities almost completely in the average being, but Junner had the feeling that this was only a small hurdle for the boy who had captured his attention.

Now, after releasing that antique monstrosity their recent captives were using as a ship, Junner was riding the elevator down to the lower levels where the special cells and his prisoner were held. Thinking about the young man and trying to remember just how he knew him was causing a migraine that was only increasing as time went by. He would show no weakness, but hidden behind his reflective glasses he closed his eyes to think.

"My beautiful boy…what have they done to you? It doesn't matter now, I don't have much time left and I'll see you free before I die."

…

"You know your purpose…do not fail me."

"As you will my lord, it will be done. All will go according to plan."

…

"…For your crimes against the Magical Community and the crime of being a Death Eater. You are hereby sentenced to the Dementor's Kiss and to live out the remainder of your soulless life in Azkaban."

…

He looked in the angry emerald eyes of his master's enemy, pleased with how they seemed to glow with an inner fire. This child was a nuisance, and had no right to challenge his master's power.

…

"Dumbledore…that foolish old man. How easily his Golden Boy will fall right into my hands."

Shaking his head with only the smallest wince Junner tried to grasp at those few strands of memory, knowing those voices were so familiar, and yet so unknown. It drove him mad. He had always been in control of his emotions, and as he moved up the rank of command, been in control of others as well. He was his mistress's right hand man, the crew and Mercs looked upon him with the same fearful awe that they devoted to his mistress. Nothing could come in-between him and that power, anything that had the ability to do that had to be dissected and eliminated. The source of his dilemma and possible answers to his past was only a few feet away now that the elevator had reached the proper level. Dismissing the guards he opened the cell door and gazed hungrily at the young man bound in the center of the room.

"Have you ever seen anything like this before?" Riddick resisted the temptation to roll his goggle hidden eyes at the barely hidden awe in Imam's voice as the man looked about the hallway they were being led down.

"Merc ships? Plenty…just was trying to figure out how it all goes together." Riddick glanced about the hallway, taking in the two massive glass walls on both sides and the dozens upon dozens of people held in cryo-sleep on either side. He twisted his neck, inwardly growling about the thick band of metal holding him to the metal platform that was being used to take his restrained body wherever that bitch-Merc wanted him to go.

Even while facing away from the guards in front of him, Riddick knew they were only being escorted by a small group of Mercs that most likely could barely wipe their own asses, let alone hold a pickpocket for long. Not even half a dozen Mercs, he was pretty sure he was being insulted. Jack and Imam were restrained with only simple handcuffs. The Mercs all seemed pretty confident now that Riddick was bound completely. Really, it was only a matter of time before he was free. Then they would all die for messing with him and his kitten.

He needed to figure out a way of this damn ship, something about it made the small hairs on his arms stand at attention. Something about this place, besides it being a Merc ship, rubbed him the wrong way. The captain was insane; it was easy to see the madness in that woman's eyes. Now all he had to do was get free and keep the others alive while he rescued Harry. He knew that in time the Mercs would drop their guard, he would just have to be patient and out wait them.

"It is a plantation operation," Imam glanced up at the many people around them, ignoring the guards and his chains as he spoke to Riddick, their only hope of escape. "A boat like this loads up at port. Signs on as many men as it can hold; then goes out for months, sometimes years at a time. However long it takes to fill their stores."

"Except a Merchant rig's usually out harvesting ore…maybe crops. Not people."

"Captive bounties on one side, contracted manpower on the other."

"…Just add heat," Jack added with a frown, unable to take her eyes off the bound Mercs that practically surrounded them.

"You know a lot about this ship…for a holy man."

"I hear things," He said simply.

Imam's knowledge of the ship and the captain, while most likely much less than they needed, was enough to keep the holy man useful in his eyes. The man seemed to grow on his kitten, much to his disgust. He knew he screwed up royally as far as Harry was concerned, not that he would admit it. He knew that he was growing far too attached to that young man who seemed to be sex on legs; he was going docile in his opinion.

"Must be a special kind of desperate dick who signs on for this," Riddick eyed the obese Merc next to him, nearly smirking as he was pistol whipped by a man who was no more important than the shit of those monsters back on Hades. "You're the exception of course…For you its life experience."

"So what's the plan?" Jack whispered in Riddick's ear with a knowing grin as they reached the end of the hallway. Riddick knew the kid was far too confident, whether it was in herself or in his capabilities. She was far too innocent as well, no matter what she had seen in her few years of life. He almost felt a bit of remorse at the loss of her childhood, he was certain that what remained would be gone by the time they made it out of this hell. "It's not like we haven't gotten out of worse. The way I see it, we can take these jerks and –Hey!"

Jack jerked back as a tall shaggy-haired redhead Merc grabbed her shoulder and pulled her back from Riddick, his gun raised in his free hand in what appeared to be an attempt at a threat. The Merc looked down at the child in a far too attentive manner, and Riddick had to hold himself back from acting out. It still almost surprised him at times that those who claimed to protect the universe from criminals would do more evil themselves. He had met plenty of monsters in human form in previous encounters with other criminals, but at least most of them would hesitate before touching a child. Riddick had no doubt that this is what the man would be doing if he wasn't under orders. He planned on killing that particular Merc if the opportunity arose. Riddick didn't kill innocents, no matter what people thought (Hey, getting in his way was and is, a crime in his mind). Those who thought such things about children were not innocent in the least and deserved the most painful death they could get.

"This is where we get off princess," the Merc kept his restraining hand on her small shoulder, gripping firmly.

Riddick could only watch as Jack and Imam were forcefully dragged off down a different corridor, held tight in his restraints. Sooner or later he'd be free of these restraints, and then the bloodshed would begin. Those stupid Mercs wouldn't know what hit them until it's too late.

Harry glared down at the solid metal bands around his wrists in disgust, tugging at them with no avail and only punishing himself with the sharp ringing that filled his ears as the chains attached to them clanged against the unforgiving metal floor. The bands were one of the most horrible things in creation he had ever come across, he felt like he had lost a limb or a sense. The idea that a majority of his magic was being held hostage in those thick bands made him want to rip his captors' limb from limb.

He hadn't been in the cell for very long, maybe an hour or two at most, but even that short amount of time has given him more opportunity to think clearly than he ever had on the skiff with the others. Harry could easily admit to himself just how disgusted he was with his behavior since being captured as a panther by the Antiquities Dealer known as Paris Ogleby. With the space and the planet Hades being so hard on his magic he tried to use as little as possible, knowing with every use his stores would only empty further and take forever to refill in this magic-less void. That wasn't a good excuse for how he had been behaving however; acting weak and completely unlike the ex-soldier and Unspeakable he was.

He wasn't a girl damn it! So why did he depend so much on a caveman like Riddick? A strong…far too intelligent…deadly… He quickly shook his head in a failed attempt to distract himself from such thoughts. Harry needed to find a way off of the ship, find Jack and Imam and make a run for it. He was pretty sure both of them would enjoy Earth, he could take Imam to Mecca as well as any other holy site the man would want to go to. And he was absolutely positive that George would get on splendidly with Jack…He'd have to watch his back until the end of time, but it'd be worth it.

No matter how much he was attracted to Riddick, no matter how much he cared for the man…Harry knew the only way to get back home, to Earth was to leave Riddick behind him. He couldn't imagine Riddick settling down on Earth, no matter how much the planet's space travel had improved with the last few decades, they were far behind in technology compared to what he'd come across since coming into space.

Harry was drawn from his thoughts by the sound of the cell door being unlocked and quickly situated himself the best he could with his limited movement, trying to appear weak while poised to attack if he ever got the chance. Whatever magic was in the cuffs binding him had a secure hold on his magic; he would have to use physical attacks until he could get free.

He looked up at the incredibly tall man holding back the urge to glare, choosing to appear as indifferent and calm as possible while he waited for his captor to make his move. Something about the man bothered him though; he was almost familiar, and not in a good way.

The man easily towered over him, most likely being over 6'5" feet tall. The man was surprisingly slim considering his massive height, and Harry just knew that under that long white coat there was a body that rippled and was as hard as granite. The man's hair appeared to be a standard 'military' style cut in the back, but left a long tail of hair to trail down from his forehead. The man's hair reminded him of tar, thick he was pretty sure if he touched it he would never get his hand free (although the man might try to amputate his hand for touching it).

"Care to tell me what solar system you're from?" The man asked in a tone that was clearly more of a demand than a question as he tore Harry from his thoughts. "We've encountered beings with similar abilities to yours, almost to the point that I'd question you being part Elemental – But, I would rather hear the answer from the source."

Harry barely held back the instinct to shudder due to the deep voice that rang throughout the small chamber. This was the voice of a man who always got what he wanted, and didn't mind at all killing more than a few people to get it. Unfortunately he was bound, and this man had set his blood thirsty eyes on him. The man was far too in control of the situation; Harry knew his current tactics wouldn't affect the man in the least.

"The Hogwarts Galaxy, you just take a right after you pass Slytherin and just before you get to Kiss-My-Ass." Harry said plainly, only letting a small smirk reach his lips before receiving a slap that sent him reeling.

"Tell me where you're from, and perhaps things won't get any worse for you."

"I'm trapped on a Merc ship with my crew members held in some undisclosed location, and I have a psycho on steroids wanting to beat the crap out of me. I really don't see how it can get much worse."

"Well then, let's not leave things in suspense now shall we? I promise you'll be telling me everything I want and more by the time I'm through with you."

Harry knew his new cocky behavior was just begging for him to get beaten, but this man clearly wanted something from him; hopefully whatever this something was, it would be worth a little torture.

Lieut. Cassandra Wells sighed to herself as she walked down the long passage way, looking over her scanner to see which Mercs the higher-ups had decided to pull out of cryo-sleep. She didn't know exactly why so many were being pulled at once, but faint rumors reported that their latest capture had managed to kill a whole squad in only a matter of seconds. As she came across her next Merc to awaken, she could only secretly hope that this killer finished this one off.

Tapping lightly at the scanner's screen she barely took notice of the flashing words of "Revive: TOOMBS", having seen similar time and time before. She watched as the pod carrying the hibernating man moved to the awakening chamber, dropping the man inside and forcing him to wake. Even from behind the safety of solid glass she still jerked back as that beast of a man charged the glass with an arrogant smirk.

"Miss me?" the man flashed slightly pointed teeth as his rough unshaven cheek pressed firmly against the cold surface. She was sure that some…most likely mentally disturbed women would find his appearance attractive. The man had a rugged quality that personally reminded her of a rabid beast that needed to be put down.

Mentally rolling her eyes she lifted the scanner and quickly chose to 'purge' and 'delouse' the subject, Lord only knows where that filth had been. Even with cleaning she was sure it would take much more than that to get rid of his 'disease'. Ignoring his sarcastic comments and his mocking the cleaning she leaned down to a box that was kept near the chamber, containing the standard clothes all Mercs were required to wear on board. She pulled out the clothes and placed them in the drawer beneath the chamber, letting them slide to Toombs before she straightened up.

"Suit up and report," she ordered, her voice doing nothing to hide her distain for the man as she rest her hand on her hip. "Must be something big. Them taking you off ice after what you pulled."

"Sister, I certainly aim to find out," the Merc chuckled as he pulled out his standard issue gun, feeling at home with a weapon in his hands once more.

'One down, only a few to go,' Riddick thought to himself as his guards released him from most of his bindings, choosing only to keep the standard handcuffs around his wrists. He looked around the immense room, one that was so bright it bothered his light-sensitive eyes even through the strong goggles.

"Orders are to set him down and leave. Get going," the shaggy-haired Merc/Wannabe Pedophile that had an eye on Jack before was the only person waiting in the room for him, and he couldn't help but smirk at the aggravated look on the man's face; clearly, he thought dealing with an older and much stronger man was a waste of his time. The temptation to punch that slimy hook-nosed bastard in the face was overwhelming, he just let himself smirk however, and just imagining what his response would be.

Riddick ignored the man for the most part as he descended the stairs, looking about the blinding white and blue room, taking in the amazingly lifelike statues in twisted and disturbing poses that were scattered purposely all around the room in attempt to look like an art gallery. There was even a large chandelier in the center of the room that seemed to be supported by dozens of human sized statues that appeared to be clearly suffering.

He moved around the room confidently, regardless of his handcuffs while he observed all the statues as well as the room as a whole. He had been brought here for a reason; he just needed to find out what that reason was. Pausing in front of a statue of a bent over man that seemed to be seated on a large pillar of rock, Riddick couldn't help but take in the similarities between the statues features and his own. The man looked as though he was ready to jump up and resume fighting any moment, the amount of hatred and despair in those cold frozen eyes was amazing. Part of him couldn't help but wonder how the sculptor managed to capture such emotion; the woman probably forced her inmates to pose like that so they could get every single detail in.

Looking down at the plaque below the statue he took in the bold script declaring the statue of the 'Killer of Men: Furya'. Shrugging off that information for the moment he reached out and prodded the statues tongue that was poking out of its mouth mid-scream; He pulled back startled as the tongue twitched away from his touch. These statues weren't statues. Somehow that psycho bitch did something to these people, these living beings to keep them frozen in place while their hearts still beat.

Hearing the sound of a door sliding open Riddick looked up to see the queen bitch herself, just walking into the room as calmly as can be. He never even had the chance to come up with a response to the monstrosity of a room before the Merc came up behind him and quickly slammed an injection probe device against his neck. Riddick twitched his head to the side and nearly growled.

"Alright, now you have my attention."

"A necessary precaution," Antonia gave what could be considered a sultry smile as she glided across the cold hard floors towards Riddick and the no-name Merc. "You attempt anything uncivilized… Killing me for instance. I detonate the explosive charge my man has just implanted, and sleep very well tonight."

"You're not putting me on a pedestal." Riddick said plainly, his goggle covered eyes glancing around for any means of escape while plotting to get a hold of the detonator.

"No, of course not," the woman smiled, gesturing to the grand room around her. "You're strictly for my private collection."

Fate was a bitch. Harry had carried this opinion with him throughout a majority of his life, knowing full well that life wasn't fair, and he was the universe's punching bag. He could feel the beast within him trying to claw to the surface as a heavily shod boot once again slammed into his heaving ribcage. For all the man before him, 'Junner' seemed to be an expert at the art of torture; the man was starting to lose control of his emotions. Harry could easily admit that he had gone through quite a bit of torture in his day, and while this man was no Antonin Dolohov, he definitely knew his work.

It had started with simple interrogation tactics; slapping, verbal abuse, attempts to manipulate his responses into revealing pertinent information, and so on and so forth. Then the sadistic bastard had upgraded to using tools, he could still remember the pain shooting through his body as volts of electricity were sent through his body again and again. The man had even tried attempting to drug him, although that just interfered with what magic Harry could tap into and he ended up getting sick more than once.

He wasn't quite sure just how long he had been down in the cell with this man, but all he knew is he was sitting in a puddle of cooling blood and it felt like everywhere hurt. This man was so dead once he managed to get himself free of the shackles. He'd skin the man alive…slowly. Half a dozen carefully timed and placed flaying curses would do nicely. Sometimes it scared him how much he dreamed about hurting his enemies, it seemed as though they were rubbing off on him so to speak.

"Are you ready to tell me who you are now?" Junner asked from where he leaned against the wall, somehow his white uniform had escaped this whole torture without a single drop of blood landing on it.

"…Never," Harry coughed, wincing at just how dry and sore his throat was.

"I'm getting tired of your fucking games," Junner lifted up from the wall, grabbing Harry by the collar of his shirt and forcefully lifting him as high as the shackles would allow. "Tell me who I am… TELL ME NOW!"

Sometime during the torture Junner's reflective sunglasses had fallen off, revealing for the first time his empty black eyes that almost made Harry flinch just by looking at them. Those eyes were filled with madness, obsession and anger that all seemed to be focused on him at that current moment. He had seen those eyes before…but that was impossible. The coloring was wrong, wrong for the man he truly was and the man he had pretended to be. The man was dead, gone, had been for years. The man contained in those eyes had barely been a passing thought over the years ever since he had been captured and taken away to Azkaban.

He was numb, completely unable to move and unable to think as he stared at the frustrated man in front of him as memories from years past seemed to flash before his eyes. He could remember crowded classrooms where spells were forced upon him again and again. He could remember the frantic man dragging him into a crowded office, shaking his shoulders as he looked around in paranoia induced panic.

'Did he forgive them Potter? Did the Dark Lord forgive them?!'

It was impossible, but yet superimposed over the tall man in front of him he could see the man he couldn't possibly be and yet there was no other option. He could see the straw like strands of hair slicked back; the cool aloft expression in his face that matched what he had seen in Dumbledore's pensive.

The world roared around him, he could hear everything and yet nothing at all through the noise. The last clear thought he had before Junner attacked him once more was vividly remembering the panicked voice of Igor Kararoff as he was held in front of the Wizengamot.

'…Barty Crouch Jr!'

Cliffhanger much?

Please Read and Review!

Oh! And a special thank you to the review from DW, I was blown away reading that (ha ha! PUN!) and will be keeping that as a resource for in the future.