Disclaimer- I do not own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling does. I own some made up spells.


ྭྭྭྭྭྭྭྭྭྭྭ Azkaban. Hell on Earth. The place where those guilty of atrocities in the wizarding world lay. Where the salvation of the world was locked away.

ྭྭྭྭྭྭྭྭྭྭྭ Harry Potter was different from all of the other prisoners there. It was not just that he was younger than every single one of them, a mere nineteen year-old among middle to old aged men, it was that he was innocent. That, and the fact that he was powerful enough to demolish the entire prison in a fit of rage.

ྭྭྭྭྭྭྭྭྭྭྭ I think its time I got out of this hell hole, Harry thought to himself, Be an good birthday present for me. He smiled grimly, and was amazed he still remembered his birthday, when it wasn't of much importance to him. He only ever had a proper birthday party, at the Burrow after Fifth year. He shook the thoughts of that out of his head.

ྭྭྭྭྭྭྭྭྭྭྭ Indeed. You've spent far too long here already, commented a voice sounding very much like the late Sirius Black, the other innocent convict of Azkaban.

ྭྭྭྭྭྭྭྭྭྭྭ Sirius, the whole reason I've stayed here two years longer than necessary was to control my powers. If I broke out the second I gained my power, I would have simply been destroyed. I couldn't possibly control all of that power, or use it. Harry responded.

ྭྭྭྭྭྭྭྭྭྭྭ For the past two years, after a very fortunate event, which gave Harry the power of literally, hundreds of wizards, he had been training. Dipping into the knowledge of both ancient and modern wizards, he learned many spells to destroy Voldemort. Ironically, some spells in his repertoire were from Voldemort, after Harry had mastered Occulumency and Legilimency, he proceeded to sneak into Riddle's mind to find spells of great power. He did this for 2 reasons.

ྭྭྭྭྭྭྭྭྭྭྭ One, as some put it, was to know exactly what Voldemort had up his sleeve. He would not be caught off guard by anything the Dark Lord had.

Second, many of the wizards he had were light wizards. Harry had abandoned, to his father's shock, any pretenses of using the dark arts. It took a while to convince his father that he wasn't going dark, but simply needed spells of power. He would not be corrupted he vowed. Voldemort knew of many powerful Dark Art's spells, but simply did not have the power to use it or thought it weak. After all, he's got the Cruciatus for Torture and the Avada Kedavra for Killing. What else could he need?

Well. I guess it's time to get out of here.

ྭྭྭྭྭྭྭྭྭྭྭ You know, you could simply turn into your animagus form, son, another voice pointed out.

ྭྭྭྭྭྭྭྭྭྭྭ Dad, I know. But where would my Marauder side be? Harry countered. He could hear his mother's snort. I'd like to be original.

ྭྭྭྭྭྭྭྭྭྭྭ And at this, Harry Potter raised his eyes. Unlike other prisoners, they gleamed, like emeralds. They were showed traces of eagerness. And so, Harry Potter flicked his finger, concentrating. His cell door, supposedly unable to be moved except by a password, was blown away like tissue paper in the wind. Only a lot heavier.

ྭྭྭྭྭྭྭྭྭྭྭ Harry Potter strode out of his cell, with long, powerful strides. The auror on guard ran in, and upon seeing the, "Most dangerous convict in Azkaban" walking towards him, eyes dangerously gleaming, he nearly wet his pants.

ྭྭྭྭྭྭྭྭྭྭྭ "Time to go to sleep." Harry said, and wordlessly, a powerful stunner leapt from his palm and hit the auror who was blasted across the room, unconscious before he hit the floor.

ྭྭྭྭྭྭྭྭྭྭྭ You could have just put a sleeping charm on him, yet another voice chipped in sounding motherly.

ྭྭྭྭྭྭྭྭྭྭྭ Mum, I know. But I've spent three years stewing in a cell. A year of it was spent listening to you guys die. I think I deserve to work off my frustrations. Harry said, defending his actions.

ྭྭྭྭྭྭྭྭྭྭྭ Is that the only frustration you need to work off? Sirius asked suggestively.

ྭྭྭྭྭྭྭྭྭྭྭ Several loud groans from various voices in Harry's head were heard. They berated Sirius for his comments. Harry shook his head. He thought blocking the dementors would keep him from going insane, but he gained voices in his head anyway.

ྭྭྭྭྭྭྭྭྭྭྭ Turning his mind back to what he was doing, he stood with a determined look on his face. Focusing, he chanted "Mensa Memoriam Mortis" and prepared a powerful ball of energy. It would knock out everyone except himself in the area, and erase everyone's memory of his escape. It wouldn't do to have the whole wizarding world chasing him while he recovered. The ball glowed, and then Harry clasped his hand and it exploded.

ྭྭྭྭྭྭྭྭྭྭྭ Somewhere, in a place not concentrating on his shields, he dearly hoped some of his former "friends" were in the building. As familiar rage and anger seeped into him, he shook himself. There would be time for bringing them down later. First he had to clear his name, kill Voldemort, and then deal with them.

When the bright light subsided, Harry Potter strode out of Azkaban. His eyes stung from the sunlight, not having seen it in years. Then, he cast a flying charm on himself, and walked away from Azkaban. He dearly wished he could annihilate Azkaban, but again, the wizarding world would probably chase him down to the ends of the earth, looking for him if he did that. They probably wouldn't know it was him, but Dumbledore would undoubtedly hunt whoever had that kind of power down.

When he was far enough from the anti-apparation wards of Azkaban, he apparated to cottage he had in mind. Heavily warded, it answered to his passwords and aura. As he walked into the room, he dropped himself onto the couch and let the blissful oblivion of sleep overtake him.