Authors Note:

Yep, this one is up pretty quick. I have the first couple chapters written out on paper, so I just have to type them. Thanks to everyone who reviewed; I love the input. Thanks also to my twin sis for reviewing this for errors so I don't accidentally use "arty" instead of "are they" or something like that. Btw, I don't have a pairing for Harry set up yet; but I know it won't be a Harry/Hermione, Harry/Ginny, or Harry/Snape. I don't really like those. Let me know if you have any suggestions.

Blue Skyes101

Disclaimer: I forgot to add this in last chapter. No, I do not own Harry Potter. If I did, do you think I would be sitting here writing fan fiction? I think not.

Chapter 2 – Juan and Cindy

Six Months Later~

Harry sat up in his dirty corner and tried to rub the grit out of his eyes. He looked down at his hands; they were black with dirt, just as he was sure the rest of him was. He had spent six months in the living pit of despair, but he was still unused to it. How could he get used to it? He never went outside, and he was fed twice a day with the most disgusting food you could think of. Harry could get better food at the Dursley's. He slept in a pile of rags, and he was constantly surrounded by dementors. It was torture, plain and simple.

And still, Harry had yet to go insane. He was always drifting in and out of his memories and was constantly overcome by his emotions. But, somehow, his sanity still held by a thread. Harry shook his head, his greasy shoulder-length hair flopping into his face. He felt weird today. What was the date? Today felt important for some reason. Carefully counting down the dates in his head, Harry came to a surprising conclusion. Today was his birthday.

Harry tried to clear his head. Wasn't your seventeenth birthday the day you came into your powers and were legally considered an adult? Normally, Harry would be ecstatic, but how could he be? He was in Freaking Azkaban for crying out loud! Ugh, Harry's scar was throbbing.

This had been happening more and more. Harry had actually gotten quite good at reading Voldemort and escaping from his world through the scar. Ha! The person who had trapped him here was also his escape! It was a relief to go somewhere where the dementors couldn't reach him. Harry had felt Voldemort probe back a few times, but he had managed to make his mind go completely blank every time and keep Voldemort out of his thoughts. It wasn't that hard; Harry had enough training at the Dursley's, where they expected him to obey, not think.

It was one of the very few pleasures in Harry's life that he could frustrate and annoy Voldemort. Sometimes, when he felt better than usual, he would try to send Voldemort random images such as kittens, a sack of potatoes, or *snicker* Snape in a leopard thong bikini. (Harry still didn't quite like Snape.) Harry had intense fun seeing Voldemort raging at the obnoxious images or trying to figure out why on earth Harry had sent those particular images. (The kittens, he got; he sort of got the bikini Snape; but potatoes? Why?)

Even seeing Voldemort crucio the nearest person through the bond didn't dampen Harry's joy; he felt they deserved it. His betrayal and time at Azkaban had already hardened Harry. If he ever got out of here, he wasn't sure he could ever trust another human again. Besides, if he ever got out, it's not like he'd try to kill his betrayers; but he wasn't sure he could forgive them. In fact, he was almost sure he couldn't; or if he did, he would put them through heck first.

Harry shook his head again. He needed to stop thinking about them; it only made him mad. Harry felt a chill wash over him and sighed in resignation. The dementors must be coming to give him his "meal." Suddenly, Harry felt something in him break open in a rush. Power flooded his body and washed over his senses. What was going on? He felt like he was suffocating in pure magic. And then, it was over just as quickly as it had started.

Harry gasped for breath and, panting, checked his body for damage. He could feel the power resting beneath his skin, waiting to be used. Inspecting the rest of his body, Harry saw that he was just as dirty as before, but no longer as thin. His body had filled out, and he found that he had muscles. Not bodybuilder muscles (he had nothing on the Schwarzenegger), muscles lean and strong- built for endurance.

He also seemed to have grown several inches. He looked over at his arm, and the scar from when Macnair had kicked him last week was gone. His hands flew up to his head, but the lightning bolt shaped scar was still there. So this was what they meant by coming into your powers. Harry felt three times stronger.

On an urge to use his newfound power, Harry quickly thought in his head lumos. He gasped; his hand had lit up, white light filling the desolate cell. He hadn't used a wand so how was that possible? While he was still marveling at this, Harry realized something else. He couldn't feel the dementors anymore. Conjuring up the memory of his parents, Harry found he could feel… happy.

But how? Why? Then Harry heard voices from down the hall coming closer and scrambled to the front of his cell. His cell was far removed from the others, and the aurors only came once a week to check up on prisoners; and that had been yesterday. Who could it be? Harry leaned against the bars to listen in on the approaching voices.

"Look at them! Cowering away from us. It's rude!" A voice that was definitely female stated dejectedly. Harry listened closer.

The answering voice was decidedly male. "You know they can't help it, Cin. We take away their happiest memories; how would you feel in their shoes?"

"Well, yes, they can't help it; but that still doesn't make me feel any better." Her voice took on a sad tone. "Just us being near them hurts them. I hate that. I mean look at that poor Harry Potter up here for example. He hasn't done anything wrong, and yet, here he is. Reliving his worst memories and eating moldy bread. I hate having to do this to him….. or to anyone for that matter!"

"If it makes you feel any better, I can try to find some decent food we could give him next time."

"And what about the other prisoners?" The girl sighed. Harry peered closer, trying to find these strange people who seemed to know he was innocent and seemed to want to help. Suddenly, he found himself face to face with two dementors. Harry fell back in a daze, visibly stunned. 'What the heck? Dementors can't talk!'

"See," the girl (?) dementor whined, pointing at Harry. "He looks so scared of us." Her posture slumped, permeating certain sadness beyond words. And Harry felt…pity. Pity for a dementor. Harry found himself scrambling to comfort her.

"Erm, uh, are you alright?" Harry stammered, slowly getting up off the ground. The two dementors looked at him in surprise.

"You can understand us?" the male (?) dementor asked, astonished. The other one just stood there. Dumbfounded, Harry figured. He felt much the same.

"Err, yeah." Hey, no one ever said anything about him having good conversation skills.

The dementors quickly opened his cell and stood there, staring at him, until the male (?) one finally asked, "Is today your seventeenth birthday? You feel stronger than before." Harry just nodded, uncomfortable with the attention.

'Was turning seventeen responsible for this?' he wondered absently.

"Oh, yes, yes, yes!" the girl (?) dementor squealed, doing a little victory dance around the cramped cell. Harry just stared and eventually decided the guy (?) dementor was the smart one, and the sane one. (Can dementors go insane? He so did not want to see that.)

The male (?) dementor threw a look at the girl (?) dementor that Harry couldn't catch and, looking down on Harry, (He was rather tall) asked kindly, "May we stay and explain?"

"You're going to ask?" Harry's head was spinning. What in the name of Merlin's girlfriend's panties was going on?

"Yes, so may we?" the dementor gestured around Harry's cell.

"Er, sure." The two dementors glided in, and Harry sat down on the floor. They were already taller than him, so what was the point of trying to talk face to face? Suddenly, the two dementors got on the ground as well, Indian style, startling a laugh out of Harry. His first laugh in six months. They looked at him strangely, and Harry responded uncomfortably. "Well, it's just strange with you, here, talking, having gender, sitting cross-legged…" Harry trailed off.

"Yes, it is strange." Harry could swear the male (?) dementor was smiling, but didn't want to pull back to hood to check. "First, allow us to introduce ourselves."

The dementors both pulled back their hoods, revealing surprisingly normal looking heads. They were kind of gross, but that was just because the skin was pale and scabbed over. They reminded Harry of the zombies from those low-budget horror flicks, the really fake looking kind. The male (Harry was sure of it now) dementor had short, greasy black hair; and the female had shoulder-length, brown hair. All in all, they rather looked like people who had been to Azkaban themselves, just twice the size of a normal human, less dirty, and with far more scars.

The male extended a scabbed and torn hand. Harry shook it and found it to be surprisingly warm. "My name is Juan, and this is my friend Cindy. It's nice to meet you, Harry Potter."

"Juan and Cindy," Harry repeated weakly. They nodded. "Juan and Cindy, the dementors."

"Why do you seem so surprised?" Cindy asked rather rudely.

"Well, I, er," Harry shrunk under her glare. "I just had no idea that dementors had names, or friends for that matter." Harry blushed, shamefaced. "Quite frankly, I always thought you were just soul sucking monsters."

Cindy instantly flared up, and Harry suspected she would have launched into a heated monologue had Juan not cut in and stopped her. "Yes, we know how your world views us; and, for all intents and purposes, you are correct. We are soul sucking monsters, but not by choice." Juan sighed "This is not the way it always was. Would you listen to how we came to be this way?" Harry wondered briefly, 'Story time with dementors?' before giving a stiff nod; and Juan launched into the history of dementors.