Disclaimer: If you don't know, then I'm not going to tell you.
A more Traditional 'Harry in Azkaban Story'
It had been three months since he had been thrown into Azkaban for the murder of one of the less important characters (shall we say . . . a Huffelpuff named Stebbins) and he could still remember Dumbledore's disappointed look as the Dementors dragged him away.
Holding a bony hand in front of his face Harry began talking to himself to move the plot along, "good thing I had all that time at the Dursleys." He managed to force a grin, "else I wouldn't be so use to starving."
"Here's your gruel you bastard." Sadistic Ministry Guard #5 spat out as he tossed a bowl of barely edible mystery food into the cell, "and I hope you choke on it."
Crawling over to the puddle of gruel, Harry began gathering it up forcing himself to eat it, "what I wouldn't give to have Dobby here right now," he muttered to himself, "then I could have . . ."
"You called Harry Potter Sir?" Dobby appeared, cutting off the muttering.
"What are you doing here?" Harry asked the small elf in shock, "and how did you get past the wards?"
"You called me Harry Potter Sir," the small elf looked up in concern.
"So because I called you, you came?" Harry began to look annoyed, "are you telling me that I could have called you three months ago and gotten out of this hell hole?"
"Yes Harry Potter Sir." Dobby nodded, "Dobby has been waiting and waiting but it wasn't until now that Harry Potter called."
Harry just looked at the small elf in shock and then he shrugged his shoulders, "screw it," he turned to the small elf, "Dobby, take me out of here."
"Ok," Dobby nodded happily and then, with a flash Azkaban was missing one prisoner. "Where does Harry Potter Sir wish to go?"
"Somewhere I can get cleaned up," Harry looked down at his dirty robes. "And somewhere I can get some new clothes."
IIIIIIIIIIIII
Version 02
IIIIIIIIIIIII
Staring at the cold damp walls of his cell, Harry Potter began to laugh. It had taken nearly a year of solitary confinement and daily beatings, but he finally got the joke. His whole life was nothing more then a means of entertainment for the sheep in the wizarding world.
Until now, he had been miserable, broken, and depressed at the thought that his friends had betrayed him but now . . . now he just found it hilarious.
Outside, a lone guard began to approach to investigate the sound of laughter, a sound rarely heard within the walls of the prison.
Slowly, cautiously he opened the door to the cell belonging to one of the prison's most infamous inmates.
Harry looked up in annoyance, the guard's presence breaking his concentration. In a flash, the his happiness turned to rage, the guard didn't even have time to scream before he was rendered unconscious by the boy who lived.
Looking down at his handy work, Harry smiled. Stripping the guard of his wand and other valuables, and pausing only to relock the door to his cell. Harry Potter replicated a feat first performed by his godfather, Harry Potter escaped.
Due to a previously unknown flaw in the wards, it would be several months before his absence was noticed. With the presence of the guard in Harry Potter's cell, the wards of Azkaban reported no escape. Why would they? There were no missing prisoners.
Harry Potter did not waste a moment of his freedom, the first thing he give an updated version of Tom Riddle's will to the goblins. It was amazing what one could accomplish and more importantly what one could forage when they had access to a man's memories and a portion of his power.
Smirking evilly, Harry prepared to enact the next portion of his plan. The reunion of the two people that showed him any loyalty.
IIIIIIIIIIIII
"Hello Harry, It's always nice of you to visit, and even though you are nothing more then a fragment of my subconscious that appears real due to side affect of the anti psychotic potions they have been forcing me to take. And how are you today?"
"I'm fine Hermione, and you?"
"I'd be better if you were real." Hermione shrugged, "or if you weren't and the real you was out of prison."
"I am real and not in prison," Harry smiled. "I staged a daring rescue last night and brought you here, you've spent the last twelve hours in detox."
"That's nice," Hermione smiled. "Have you rescued Lupin yet?"
"I rescued him a couple hours ago," Harry nodded. "Why were you in a mental hospital anyway?"
"Well," Hermione began. "After your trial, Dumbledore decided that I was insane because I doubted him and believed in your innocence. So, using his powers of loco parentis he had me committed."
"That sucks," Harry sympathized. "Would you like to come with me to a tropical island I own? Lupin already said yes."
"What ever makes you happy Harry," Hermione nodded and after a moment of thought added. "You're looking remarkably less colorful then normal, are you eating enough?"
"I'm not a hallucination Hermione," Harry smiled. "So I'm not suppose to be in all sorts of strange colors."
"Ok," Hermione nodded. "When do you want to go to the island?"
"Right after I defeat Voldemort," Harry shrugged. "Despite the fact that I've been locked up in prison, I've got the feeling that the battle will be remarkably short and one sided."
"That's not a good thing Harry," Hermione reminded him with a frown. "And why do you want to defeat him anyway?"
"Well, it might be so that everybody feels bad about locking me up when I hadn't committed any crime or it might be to get revenge on my parents," Harry looked a bit sheepish. "I haven't decided yet."
"Why would they feel guilty Harry?" Hermione looked puzzled. "They don't believe you're innocent."
"Forgot to mention that I was going to wait until after Voldemort admitted that he had framed me before killing him." Harry said turning a bit red, "I'm sorry but I'm having a hard time remembering these things."
"That's ok Harry," Hermione patted his hand. "When do you plan to do this anyway?"
"Oh no," Harry checked his watch. "If I don't hurry, I'm going to arrive late and then I won't have the satisfaction of gloating."
"Hurry back Harry," Hermione smiled. This hallucination was much nicer than the last one had been.
Harry returned a few minutes later with a few blood stains on his new robes, "sorry it took so long but I wanted to get in an extra long gloat."
"That's ok," Hermione nodded. "Can we go to that island now?"
"I just have one more thing to do, and then we can leave." Harry smiled and pulled out a piece of parchment.
"What are you doing?" Hermione asked curious as to what her subconscious was trying to tell her conscious.
"Just putting down a form letter so that I don't have to waste time responding to every Owl that the sheep in the wizarding world send me begging me to forgive them."
"I suppose that's sensible," Hermione nodded. "Now can we go to the island?"
"Yes Hermione, we can go to the island now."
IIIIIIIIIIIII
Your letter to Harry Potter has been returned unopened due to the fact that its intended recipient has no wish to maintain contact with the wizarding world. Below is a form letter designed to address as much of the population as possible.
To the wizarding world; if you believed in my innocence, thanks, and if not screw you.
To my former friends; I hate you, if you wish that to change read below.
To Fudge; you are a stupid incompetent git, who should have been smothered at birth to prevent your existence from lowering the collective IQ of humanity.
To the press; First you lionize me, then you vilify and slander me on the flimsiest evidence, all I ask for is consistency either decide that I am the savior of the wizarding world or the anti-Christ, make up your minds.
Note: If you are a house elf or other similar creature in need of employment, please direct all applications to my friend and employee Dobbly.
If any of my former friends no longer wish me to hate them then they must follow these simple steps.
Destroy any and all evidence that we once knew each other.
If asked deny any association with me past, present, and future.
If you see me on the street cross to avoid coming into contact with me.
My loyal friends were killed on the same night I was sentenced to hell; all of you are nothing but cruel mockeries that bear some slight resemblance to my dead companions.
This letter may be reproduced or published free of charge so long as it remains in its original unaltered form.
-Harry James Potter
AN: Two plot bunnies that I decided to turn into drabbles. Like 'em or hate 'em, I don't care cause they were fun to write. Note: Most of the time there is a formula to the Harry in Azkaban stories that I tried to follow in the second drabble, that's why everybody is acting so OOC. I was looking through my hard drive and I started going through some of my old ideas, a few minutes knocking them into a story and here they are. One of these was almost written instead of Caer Azkaban, but in the end I decided to try something new. To make these, I just turned the loosely connected thoughts into a couple of short drabbles. You might find a few ideas that found their way into Caer Azkaban.
OMAKE: The scene that inspired me to put this up.
Ron stared at his reflection and shuddered at what he saw, a broken man, a man that had spent too much time in the bottle and not enough in the sun. A man . . . a man that had betrayed his best friend. "Be guilty Harry," Ron's seldom used voice begged. "Cause if you're not, then I could never forgive myself."
It had all seemed so black and white at the time, the Headmaster had told everyone that Harry Potter was guilty and naturally Ron had believed him. It had all seemed so easy at the trial, testifying against his best friend. He hadn't even had to lie, they had lawyers for that.
It wasn't until he saw Harry's reaction to Azkaban's silent guards that he began to feel doubt, that doubt had magnified overtime until it had dominated every aspect of his life.
Turning away from the mirror, Ron broke the seal on another bottle and began to drink his breakfast. "Please be guilty Harry," Ron repeated to the empty room. Hating himself for believing that the boy he had known had turned into the murderer the press had made him out to be.
Walking towards the door, Ron's shoulders dropped a little more. The world was a cold and lonely place.