A/N - to all old readers, there are no new chapters here (the next one will be out in a week or so), but i have edited things in most chapters, changing things to make them more realistic, so it's probably best to reread the first four chapters anyway. And this is just to let you know i will be updated fairly frequently now, and to say sorry for the hiatus.


POWER

The youth lay on the floor. His figure obscured by the dark shadows cast by the cell in which he was imprisoned. His cell was identical to thousands all around him, just another cell in a long corridor. No special markings, nothing to make this cell seem any different from the others. Yet it was, it was so different.

Dementors glided past the corridors, inflicting great agony on those unfortunate enough to be passed. They had however lost feeling years ago, being locked up in the cell tortured from the inside, unable to defend themselves, reliving their worst moments. Rendered insane. All happy thoughts gone. Pain, agony horror, the only feelings that ever graced their long destroyed minds.

None of them lasted more than a few weeks before dying. No, not literally dying, but having their mind ripped to shreds, living torturous lives, knowing only evil. Yes this is the dread prison Azkaban. Known well for destroying criminals but never killing them, forcing them to undergo torture worse than death. No innocent man was even sent here, or so the wizarding world thought. There were only two known breakouts ever.

The first of them was when the fell Sirius Black fled the prison, using unknown methods, and evading justice for all of 4 years and three years after his escape, came back to the prison and freed his fellow death eaters. Currently on two of these were still free to wreak havoc upon the wizarding community, Bellatrix Lestrange and Sirius Black.

Little did the pathetic ministry know that Sirius Black had been innocent and had never murdered another soul, after escaping from Azkaban he promptly went to kill the traitor Peter Pettigrew, who the ministry thought was a hero, after cornering Black and being slaughtered by a cruel curse along with 13 muggles. He did not aid the death eaters in any way, but tried his hardest to kill them all, for his nephew Harry.

Harry… Harry and Sirius, the only two people to ever be put in Azkaban unjustly, and made to stay there. Hagrid had also been sentenced to Azkaban twice, but had been released both times, innocent. It one long year after Harry had been betrayed and flung carelessly into Azkaban, forced to relive his parents' brutal deaths, his godfather's death, Cedric's death the betrayal of his friends, his idol, his deceased parents' best friend, everyone. The only people who believed in Harry were dead, long gone, buried under the earth. Harry felt nothing but hate towards all his friends, his family. He awoke and brushed his long, tangled locks of hair of his face. His eyes burned a bright and powerful green, they gleamed in the dark, the only thing one could see in his cell, two glaring green globes. So to any aurors passing by the cell, all they would see was a pair of green lights following .

The fools would think that Harry like the other prisoners had gone insane and could not do anything. They expected nothing of him, and his old cell, which always had two dementors stationed outside it, became low key, and dementors rarely visited it. They were scared of it. Yes, the dementors were actually scared of something, the bungling, however, ministry did not pick this up, and let Harry bide his time, building up power.

He was malnourished like all the other prisoners. But that's not from whence his power flowed, no his power was purely mental. If it wasn't for the thick coat of dirt and grime on him, anyone would easily be able to see his bones. His waxy skin than clung to them so tightly. With his gaunt face, cheeks drawn in, he looked nothing more than a skeleton painted brown and rapped in rags. His long hair fell past his shoulders and constantly covered his face. But unlike the other prisoners, he had his sanity intact and perfect. He had practiced occlumency the summer before he was betrayed, he was also acting on the same thing Sirius had, he was innocent and he clung onto that thought whenever there was a doubt, when he relived being tortured by Voldemort, when he relived all the painful moments he ever had.

His occlumeny skills proved to be a gift in disguise, a few months after he was thrown in the hell house, they just kicked in on their own. With this and his innocence, he managed to keep the dementors at bay and save his sanity. Soon, his powers flared up and he managed to actually repel the dementors who were more than pleased when they were allowed to leave his cell.

Harry flexed his fingers and decided that it was time for the fourth breakout from Azkaban to commence. Yes, there had been another breakout, when Barty Crouch Jr. was snuck out of the prison leaving his mother behind to die in his place. With a wave of his hand, the bars of his cell began to twist and spiral, cascading to a point just before his feet. They began to form a definite shape there, twisting and flowing like molten iron. The mould split into two, one forming a distinct sword and the other outlining a staff. Harry smiled, his weapons of choice were almost ready. All he needed was wood to complete his staff. He had been surprised when he had first found wood in the prison. Apparently, there was a torture room in the prison. Now that wood would prove useful.

He smiled, his first true smile in a year. His escape was near. With all his mental power, he summoned the wood from the torture room, and it came, flattening everything in its path. It flowed through the gaping hole in the bars and crashed into the staff's outline. The staff began to take a definite shape, it looked like an old, gnarled stump of wood reinforced by iron. It needed only a core to become magical and suit Harry's purposes.

Harry grinned manically, singing in his heavily fortified mind and two dementors were forced to come near his cell. With a flick of his wrist and the closing of his palm into a tight ball, they imploded, leaving their dirty robes on the floor, and flew into the sword and staff respectively when Harry beckoned. The blade began to glow a fell black, the staff however remained the same. His smile fell a bit, but Harry did not care much, realizing that he needed to more powerful core to truly ignite it, with a savage pleasure he watched as several other dementors were sucked, kicking and pulling into the staff. Still not satisfied, he decided that it was time he used the only other non-human creature in the area as a core.

The vampire lay carelessly in his cell. He had not been forced to live here, he had come of his won will. It was dark, damp, misty and carried with it the stench and decay of the dying, the screams of the tortured. The dementors did not affect him, he was one of the undead, they could suck little out of him. His magic was not as strong as is had been when he was a wizard all those centuries ago, but he was still a powerful magical creature, he could change into a bat at will, he could lurk in the shadows unseen for all eternity and he commanded several animals, beasts of the night.

He never fed on the pitiful humans in the prison, they would not sustain him, and they would also alert the ministry of his presence. He left it once to a month to feed on muggles, no magic diluting their taste, and they would not become vampires when bitten. They did not have magical blood. So he ensured there was no competition. He felt no fear, he had ruled over his domain for centuries, never threatened once, probably why he fell to easily to the calls that summoned him.

He shifted to the shadows and let the calls lure him out of his cell, never realizing as he was drawn closer and closer to another cell. Only grasping his situation when it was too late, when the two green lights broke his will and crushed his mind. Tearing what was left of his soul, and the souls of his victims right out of his physical manifestation. His body vaporized in a matter of milliseconds, and his soul rushed into what seemed like a vacuum.

Harry's pleasure knew no bounds. The only other entity in the area that was somewhere near as strong as he was had fallen so easily. Yes the power he had contained would definitely ignite his staff. Sure enough, when he looked down, the tip of his staff glowed a crimson red, lighting up the dungeons as far as he could see. The staff provided light for only him, the rest of the inhabitants did not know that anything had transpired, just that the prison was suddenly warmer.

With a last look at his surroundings he donned the previously felled dementors cloaks. He transfigured one into a pair of black pants and shoes, another into a full-sleeved shirt that fit him perfectly, its bottom, however, just about touched his kneecaps. Covered in black, he pulled a tattered dementor cloak around him and pulled the hood over his head. He created a sheath on a belt on his pants and carefully placed the blade in it. He grasped the staff firmly in his hands and prepared to leave the desolate hell-hole.

He purposefully strolled out of the prison, destroying the door with a satisfying 'BANG!' and proceeded to meld into the shadows and left his home for a whole year. The only place where he had been on his own, with no human tormenting him, the place where he had imagined the brutal revenge he would have. Soon after he had left the sorry building he thought he heard the winds carry a bloodcurdling scream, "Harry!!!!!!! Harryyyyyyy!" Dismissing it as nerves he went on, struggling to keep his mental barriers intact and stop a flood of memories.


An ashen faced Dumbledore boarded the boat and set off for Azkaban. The place where for the second time he had imprisoned an innocent man. First Sirius Black, Harry's godfather, and then Harry himself. 14 years were spent by innocents in Azkaban, suffering and risking their sanity for no reason at all. Sirius escaped and was still thought to be a murderer even though he was dead. He sane but with a point to prove, which resulted in his untimely demise, while trying to save his godson, who Dumbledore had thrown to hell not a month after the sacrifice.

The golden boy of the wizarding community, the savior, the one who had escaped Voldemort four times and his past self, Tom Riddle, once. The boy who was prophesized to save the world and rid of filth like Voldemort had been unjustly imprisoned. Dumbledore regretted his mistake to his very core. When he had first heard the news, he had even thought of turning back time and saving the lad, just showing how desperate he was. Two people he had not held trials for, two innocent men sent to hell and tortured. One had forgiven him and died as a result, his final sacrifice counting for nothing in Dumbledore's mind. The other he hoped would forgive him one day if not now.

He had known both of them very well, but both times he had failed to defend them. His mistakes, in not telling Harry certain things that the boy should have known by right, in condemning him and Sirius to jail how enveloped his mind, leaving no space for any other thoughts. He hoped that Harry would come back to Hogwarts, where he could be further trained and hopefully, made to forget the grief of prison and betrayal. The choice lay in the boy's hands, right now he just wanted to free Harry and save him from as much torture as possible.

The oarsman saw two rare tears dropping of Dumbledore's face, grief etched into its very fibers. The moment the boat touched the shores of Azkaban, Dumbledore jumped off and in an act defying his age, ran towards the prison. In his haste he did not realize how much warmer the dread wasteland was, how much more comfortable. He only realized something was amiss when he saw the lack of a door to the prison, splinters lining the surrounding area. Careful now, he trudged silently into the building, his wand clutched tightly in his wrist, ready to blast anything odd into oblivion.

When he finally reached Harry's cell he let out a cry of pure misery, "Harry!!!!!!!, Harryyyyyyyy!" Harry was nowhere to be seen, the bars on his cell ripped up as if a giant had come and ripped them of their bases, breaking it into an unrecognizable mess. Tattered black robes covered the vicinity and wood shavings lined the cell. Completely flabbergasted, Dumbledore stared at the scene in front of him, managing to utter one syllable in a raspy voice, "How….." before falling to his knees and sobbing, pondering the possible outcome of this never before seen event.


Harry lost the battle to the incessant onslaught of his memories. One by one they crashed into his mind and forced him to fall to his knees, dwelling in his past.

A flash of green, his mother lay dead. A flash of green, he lost vision and woke up in the hands of people who hated more than he thought possible.

Getting beaten mercilessly by Dudley. With a black eye and bleeding nose he ventured back to his house, battered and broken. Vernon yelled, "Just who do you think you are boy? Wandering in whenever you want! Getting into fights with a rowdy lot. Who do you think you are? Do you think I'll let you get away with this?" Screaming in pain as blow after blow numbed his back.

Locked up in a cupboard, biting his lip to keep from screaming as something crawled over his feet. To scared to put on the light to see what it was. Not enough room to try and swat it away. Too scared to leave the cupboard. No one to talk to.

Screaming and Quirrel grabbed him, clutching his scar and fainting with the pain.

Bleeding as the basilisk drove its fang into him.

Being rejected as people thought he was the one who had opened the Chamber of Secrets.

Learning of how his parent had been betrayed by their friend, who had also caused his father's best friend to be sent to Azkaban for 13 years.

Watching as the Dark Lord rose and clutching the lifeless body of Cedric, whom he had forced to take the cup with him.

Crying as no one believed him, and labeled him a lunatic.

Rejected again as people began to become afraid of him and his claims of seeing the rise of Voldemort.

The torture of writing into his own hand and bloodying it.

Watching Sirius's body as it fell into the veil, the smile never leaving his face, as barely comprehended what had happened to him.

BETRAYAL!!! BETRAYAL!!!! As his friends condemned him to hell on earth, blamed him and rejected him, leaving him truly alone.

With that thought, Harry wrenched himself out of the cold grasp of all his painful memories. Pure, white hatred coursed through is body as he remembered the events of the summer, all thought of the unearthly cry erased from his mind.


Harry opened his eyes and heard Hedwig chirp in welcome, a grin graced his face. Yes, he was in the Dursley's house, but for the first time he actually enjoyed it. The threat that the Order had issued to the Dursley's had been enough to keep them in check. They never spoke to him, but they did not ask him to do any labour or anything of the sort, he was free in that manner. The only thing that did bother him was the fact that he had witnessed, and in fact, caused his godfather's death. He had been practicing occlumeny to try and get rid of that feeling of overwhelming guilt. He would sit in a classic meditation pose for at least an hour a day. Slowly, the anguish was lifted from his heart, and he began to feel joy once again.

In order to commemorate the moment, he had started to exercise and build his body up. He decided that the scrawny, beat-up look was no longer for him. He would jog for an hour a day and then upon reaching a park, he would work out there, this became familiar schedule for him, and he passed him time this way. When the usual invitation from the Weasley's came around midsummer, he politely declined saying he would rather come slightly later. He had begun to enjoy the schedule ad did not want to stop just yet. He was also beginning to make some friends in the park

As he was far away from Privet Drive, Dudley's aura did not hang about him and his regular routine, led to him meeting some people. He had become good friends with a boy named Mark and his sister Emily. Both of them practiced a similar schedule and the three often met. They soon become quite close and exercised together. So when the time to leave finally came, he was reluctant to do so. But he also wanted to meet Ron and Hermione, so he decided to just go a week later.

That day, while exercising, he told Mark and Emily, that in a week's time he would be leaving Surrey to spend some time with some friends of his before going to boarding school. That day, they talked more than exercise, of where each was from, which school they went to schedules and so on. After a while, Harry realized that he had to go and told them that, a short farewell later, he found himself in his aunt's house, looking over the things that he would take over to the Burrow in a week's time. He gaze fell on his wand and he decided to put it away for safety and to make sure that he did not forget.

The week passed very fast, and just before they parted for the last time, Mark informed Harry of the fact that they were going to the Ottery St. Catchpole as well. Harry was ecstatic at the news, and decided to introduce Ron and Hermione to Mark and Emily in passing, as they did not know that he was a wizard. He packed that night with a happy heart.

The next day was uneventful, Mr. Weasley came to pick him up by the Floo network again, and he was soon happy in the Burrow, meeting the entire Weasley clan sans Percy and Hermione. Before he could tell them about his exercise routine and new friends, however, a loud crack was heard somewhere outside the Burrow, and everyone dashed outside to see the cause of the noise. They were stunned when they heard a girl screaming and the top of here voice somewhere in the woods nearby. They ran towards the source of the yelling with Harry in the lead. Harry, being fit from al the exercising, soon left the others behind.

What he saw caused him to yell as well, Mark was on the ground, covered by a pool of blood, Emily of clutching his wrist and yelling, a mad man with a bloody stump of wood was nearby screaming bloody murder. Harry, quick as lighting, drew his wand and started yelling curses out at a speed to fast to counter. The axe man fell clutching his chest. Emily, promptly stopped yelling and with a smirk that put Snape to shame, took out a wand and stunned the astonished Harry, before he had any time to react.

Harry eyes flew open and he jumped to his feet, looking all over the room he was now in, searching for Emily or Mark. What he did see, however, was an enraged Dumbledore, and a shell-shocked Weasely clan and a bundle o brown hair staring daggers at him. The next thing he knew he was being told and off and accused of murdering 3 innocents, all muggles. His wand was checked and it last few spells were all dark in nature, designed to cause immense pain to recipient and in the case of the last curse, kill the recipient. Before he had the opportunity to say anything, he was assaulted with a barrage of insults, and general statements aimed at hurting him.

"Harry, you have are going to be sentenced to Azkaban without any trial for life. For the murder of three innocent, defenseless muggles and the use of unforgivables. Do you have anything to say for yourself?" Dumbledore asked, barely concealing his fury.

Harry thought back to the said instance, and realized quite suddenly that he had been put on. Mark and Emily had either never been there, or they were disguised death eaters from the beginning. Glancing around the room he realized that no one here held any sympathy for him, they all thought him guilty of murder. BETRAYED! The word flashed in his mind over and over again. By old friends, by supposed family, by new friends, he hated them all. Harry let out a harsh, dry chuckle that echoed over the room, the laugh grew in volume and coldness until it covered them all. The bitter laugh penetrated their very souls, they took it as another sign of madness and he was thrown in Azkaban the next day, leaving him enough time to read the next day's Prophet and receive mail from a certain select few people. All of them flooded with hate. The world declared him a murderer. Lupin called him an insult to everyone he ever met. Hagrid's was the only sympathetic mail, be it brief.

'Harry I know ya never did nothin', but when the world turns against ya there's nothing ya can do. Rest assured, I'll never talk to Ron or Hermione again. Remember, this happened to me as well. I'll try to clear you name, bye'

Harry never said a word, read his mail quietly and left with them when he was asked to, laughing insanely upon reaching Azkaban again. Fury had consumed his entire being, and he knew nothing but revenge.