A/N: Thanks to those who have read and reviewed!

Please note: This fic, unlike my other one, has no pre-written chapters, so this one will be updated erratically.

WARNINGS: See Prologue

"Dialogue"

"Parseltongue"

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor do I make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter 1

He pulled out his wand and touched it to a nondescript point on the door. He muttered under his breath a long phrase in Ancient Gaelic. The door swung open to reveal a room bathed in soft light emanating from a flame flickering near the ceiling. The cell was about six feet tall, seven feet wide and ten feet deep. It was sparse, with a cot, and the drawings that the warden had been speaking of. They all depicted two kinds of scenes: either where someone was killed or tortured brutally, or where people were in groups, laughing and smiling. The thing that made these drawing creepy was that they were drawn with either of two words: the ones of death or torture were drawn with the word "comedy", and the ones of happiness, with the word "tragedy".

However, this was not what caught Albus or Sirius's attention. What they were staring at was the small form that had only been able to grow a couple of inches in height in fifteen years. A boy who was twenty-eight, who looked like he was thirteen. A boy whose name was Harry Potter.

It was only when he turned to look at the two that they realized exactly what the warden had been talking about.

Harry's face had scars. Many of them. You could tell that his eyebrows and the skin around them had been completely clawed off once. There were scars at the top of his cheeks, where the skin, fat and muscle had been clawed away. He didn't have enough skin on around his eyes for there to be smile or frown lines. His forehead had eight claw marks down it, where eight of his fingers had attempted to pull away the skin of his face. He had torn off the tips and lobes of his ears. His cheeks were…thin. The skin looked freshly grown, and was full of claw marks. And his lips… They were almost nonexistent, and currently pulled into a frown. Two extremely thin lines of red were all that remained, not that you could tell. There were portions of his arms where there was no skin, just muscle. There were deep scars. Some of the wounds on his arms were still bleeding.

The creepiest thing about him, though, was his face paint. It was pure white, as though liquid chalk. It covered his face, from the middle of his neck, to past his hair line. What was left of his ears were white as well. However, a thick line of pitch black paint stretched from one side of the back of his lower jaw, up and across his lips, and down to the other side of his jaw, in an ever-present frown.

Albus and Sirius were shocked to say the least. They had not expected something of this magnitude to have happened to Harry. Albus was the first to break out of his stupor. "Harry-"

"Tragedy," they heard, in a voice that sounded rough, not from disuse, but from having been screamed hoarse.

"Pardon, Harry?"

"I said, 'Tragedy.' My name. Tragedy." (A/N: Please note, from now on, I will call Harry Tragedy.)

Albus and Sirius looked confused for a second, before nodding their acquiescence, though still skeptical. "Tragedy, then. We are here to take you back home. You have been found innocent, my boy."

"I am not a boy, no matter how I look. Especially not yours." With that, he flicked his wrist, and a trunk appeared, and his sheets and drawing neatly put themselves inside of it. Albus and Sirius both gasped. Wandless magic was extremely difficult. Albus and Voldemort both could only manage a minor-level stunner, nothing more. And Tragedy had managed to conjure something. Wandlessly. Within the magic-dampening fields of Azkaban, where both Albus and Voldemort could only cast stunners, with the aid of a wand. Then, Tragedy made the trunk disappear, and he made to exit the cell. Sirius held out his hand, though Tragedy ignored it. When Tragedy tripped on the door frame, Sirius grabbed Tragedy to steady him, but Tragedy screamed, and leapt away from the touch. "DON'T TOUCH ME!" he screamed.

When Tragedy's breathing had calmed, he flicked his wrist again, and the door shut, without the aid of the password. The warden's eyes nearly popped out of his head. "You shouldn't be able to do that!"

"I've been able to for years. Notice how I never escaped," he added, glaring at the Headmaster and his godfather. Then, he disappeared with a CRACK! Albus, Sirius and the warden were stunned for a second, before they leapt into action and raced up the stairs. When they got to the warden's office, they saw Tragedy standing there.

"Thank you, Warden Schmeisman, for your hospitality for the last nearly fifteen years. I'm sorry if I forget to pay the bill," Tragedy said in a light tone. Albus and Sirius both thanked the warden, then headed toward the dock, Tragedy following.

When they reached the dock, Tragedy said, "I'll see you on the other side," and Apparated away.

The ride back to the mainland was long and silent, both men reflecting on their hero.

True to his word, Tragedy was waiting at the dock when they landed. "We'll be staying at the Burrow for now, Harry."

"Tragedy," he growled lowly.

"Yes, of course. I apologize. Now, we will Apparate there, so take my arm, please."

"I don't touch people," he replied, and Apparated away. Albus and Sirius followed.

YMRWYS- YMRWYS- YMRWYS- YMRWYS

When they reached the Burrow, it was chaos. Everyone had their wands out and pointed at Tragedy, except the twins. They were sitting on the couch, had an insane gleam in their eyes, and were giving grins that could send chills down Voldemort's spine. Albus yelled "Stop!" loudly, and everyone stopped. Tragedy walked over to the twins and sat down in between them, ignoring the questioning and worried glances everyone was sending him.

Albus proceeded to sit everyone down at the table and explain that Tragedy, as he liked to be called, was Harry, and what the warden had told them. Everyone looked guilty at that was happening, and what Tragedy had been through, except for Ron. He was being a jealous prick, since he learned that just because Tragedy was innocent, he was getting everything back, even the money Ron had been given for "having to undergo the haunting ordeal of being the friend of the murderer Harry Potter."

The first thing Ron did after hearing what Tragedy would be getting back was get up, walk over to Tragedy, and attempt to punch him. But, the twins stopped him, and looked at him with those insane eyes and manic grins, and he shivered in fear. They Apparated away to their room with him, the whole thing going unnoticed by everyone at the table.

Tragedy walked to the table, his lips still in a frown, and listened to what Albus was saying. Ginny was the first to notice him, got up, ran to him, and tried to hug him, but she was stopped by a shield charm. "Don't touch me," he said lowly. Everyone turned to look at him. He looked right back. "None of you. Don't touch me. Ever." And he stalked up the stairs to the twins' room.

YMRWYS- YMRWYS- YMRWYS- YMRWYS

The first thing Tragedy noticed in the twins' room was the thing, or, rather, person banging on the closet door from inside it. Then, he noticed the twins sitting on a bed, staring at the door and waiting for his entrance. Tragedy conjured a chair, and sat in front of them. "My name is Tragedy."

"I am Yin," said George.

"I am Yang," said Fred.

It was then that Tragedy noticed their change in appearance. They must have taken potions for this to happen, as they looked completely different. The only thing that related them to the Weasleys now was their build. George (A/N: I will be calling him either George or Yin, they are the same person) now wore a black shirt, slacks, vest, shoes and jacket with a white tie. His hair was now jet black, like the midnight black paint of Harry's frown, and his eyes were black where the whites had once been, and white where the iris and pupil were supposed to be. His body was now devoid of freckles.

Fred (A/N: I will be calling him either Fred or Yang), on the other hand, wore a white shirt, slacks, vest, shoes and jacket with a black tie. His hair was pure white, like the chalk colored paint on Harry's face, and his eyes were pure white, no blood vessels could be seen, and pitch black where the iris and pupil once were. His body was now, too, devoid of freckles.

"What do you say? My evil henchmen?" Harry drawled the offer.

They nodded eagerly.

"Well, then, I suppose my brother should meet you."

The twins looked quizzical, but they still were excited. All of a sudden, the paint on Harry's face-

YMRWYS- YMRWYS- YMRWYS- YMRWYS

A/N: OOOO cliffy!

IDK how far the next chapter will go, but hopefully it will be longer than this one.

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