Summary:

Harry Potter had been through a lot in his nearly eighteen years of life. However, getting charged with murder and convicted of the crime of killing the man he was prophesied to defeat certainly took the cake.

Imprisoned for something he had no control over, Harry believed all hope was lost. However, a year after his incarceration, a fellow prisoner burst into his cell through an escape tunnel dug in the wrong direction and changed Harry's life as he gave him both the means and the opportunity to enact revenge upon those who had wronged him.

Adopted by the most feared Dark Lord in the Wizarding World's history, would Harry fall victim to the darkness that had grown and festered inside him? Or would he learn to live again?

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Inspired by and based upon "The Count of Monte Cristo" — More specifically the 2002 film.

Notes:

Hello and welcome to my first full-length fic of 2024!

I was watching this movie a few weeks ago and was struck by a sudden burst of inspiration. So, to those of you who have either read or watched "The Count of Monte Cristo" you can probably guess the plot, but I hope you enjoy it anyway.

Enjoy!

Chapter 1: 1999

Harry shivered, staring blankly at the cold walls that enclosed him, unable to believe what had happened. Sure, he'd had a rubbish lot in life so far, but the latest events certainly took the cake.

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He'd defeated Voldemort. He'd done what he was destined to do, what had been prophesied. Yet, despite his own protests coupled with those of his friends and allies, he had been arrested for the monster's murder, tried in a corrupt court of law and found guilty.

Fudge, who had been reinstated as Minister, lorded over the proceedings with glee and radiated smugness at the guilty verdict. After Voldemort's defeat, the wizarding world's political situation had only gotten worse and Harry, despite his fame and influence, was too ignorant and powerless to stop its fall into darkness.

As he stood numbly absorbing the news of his fate, his gaze wandered over to where those who had supported him could be found. Neville stood, pale-faced, beside a weeping Ginny. The pair had grown close during their time leading the rebellion at Hogwarts and Harry didn't begrudge them their relationship. If truth be told, he had fallen for the girl to the other side of Neville during their time on the run together. Hermione stood on shaky legs, her face ashen and the beginnings of tears glinting in her eyes. Looking at her, his eyes glancing down to the subtle ring on her finger, Harry couldn't help but remember the times they had shared, of the promise he had made and would now never get to keep. His own eyes welled with tears at the idea but he did his best to keep them at bay, determined not to upset her further.

Beside her stood Ron, his first and oldest friend. However, despite what one might have expected given their relationship, the redhead looked nowhere near upset. Instead, as he stood with his arm over Harry's girlfriend's shoulder in a show of support, he glanced between her and where Harry stood with his hands fastened behind his back and grinned in satisfaction.

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For the year since his imprisonment, the look on his supposed best friend's face had haunted him. It was one of the many things that became a part of his recurring nightmares.

Following his conviction, Harry hadn't been sent to Azkaban, as he'd expected, but to Nurmengard instead, the international prison that housed only the most dangerous and insane of all the world's magical criminals. It had originally been built during the late 1920s by Gellert Grindelwald — the most feared Dark Lord in the Wizarding World's history — as a place to imprison his enemies. It was located high in the Austrian mountains, where the temperature never reached above -15°C, the cell windows had no glass, prisoners were only given a thread-bare uniform to wear and the beds consisted of a stone slab that lacked any form of cushioning or warmth.

To put it simply, it was Hell on Earth.

The wind whistled through the open slot that served as a window, bringing a few flakes of snow with it and causing Harry to shiver. He wasn't sure how he had survived a year in that place. Perhaps it was his inherent magic, warming him up and doing its best to keep him alive.

Eventually, for lack of anything better to do, he dozed off into a peaceful sleep.

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He was awoken by the sound of metal scraping against stone. A very unusual and concerning sound when you were confined to an isolated stone-walled prison cell.

Jumping to his feet, Harry cast his gaze around the cell, searching for the source of the noise. That was when he noticed movement in one of the stone slabs that made up the floor. It was shifting slightly, as if it was being pushed upward from the ground beneath and it was only gaining momentum. Alarmed, Harry scrambled back into the corner of the cell, having no means to defend himself from whatever lurked beneath the floor.

Just a few moments later, the slab gave way entirely, being lifted right out of the ground to make way for a grubby set of stick-thin hands and arms followed by an equally dirty head and body.

The man that came up out of the ground of Harry's cell and looked around, at first in

confusion and then in frustration. He swore in a foreign European language that Harry guessed was German and continued to mumble. He then spun around, his eyes widening as he caught sight of Harry, his expression shifting from a frown to a grin. He again said something in German, this time seeming to address Harry himself. Harry simply shook his head.

"I'm sorry," he replied softly, "but I'm British. I don't understand what you're saying."

The man raised his eyebrows but, when he responded, it was in English, lightly accented.

"I said you're a bit young to be in here. Certainly for a Brit. Was Azkaban not good enough? What did you do — kill the minister?"

"A Dark Lord, actually."

The man's smirk widened.

"Perhaps some introductions are in order then, hmm? I'm Gellert Grindelwald, the most feared Dark Lord in history. And you are?"

Harry stared at him, blinked a few times and weighed out his options.

One: He could ignore the man — the man who had fought against most of Europe and nearly won only to be defeated by his childhood best friend. The man who was ruthless in achieving his goals and didn't care who got hurt in the process, or...

Two: He could introduce himself to this man who at least had some semblance of an escape plan and, while working with a madman may not have been the best idea, it was a good deal better than being stuck in that cell for the rest of his life; so...

Harry blinked at Gellert Grindelwald — the most feared and destructive Dark Lord in the Wizarding World's history — smiled, and offered him his hand.

"Harry Potter, Defeater of the Dark Lord Voldemort," he announced, cheerfully, "How do you do?"