I decided to make another Dark-ish!H/Hr fic, but this time, with a different scenario than Light's Hope, Death's Hunters.

This probably doesn't need to be said, but the characters WILL be OOC. Just warning you.

The prologue will be in first person; the rest will be in third person.

I do not own Harry Potter. I am not J. K. Rowling. That is a good thing.

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Prologue – Prisoner of My Demise

Fifteen thousand, seven hundred and twenty-three. That's the number of stones that makes up the walls of my prison cell. I am sure of the amount; I've had plenty of time to count them.

I'm sure you're wondering by now, who am I? I'll get to that in a minute, and will instead move on to your second question: how did I get here? Well, the official reason is that I was convicted of murdering Kingsley Shacklebolt, the acting Minister of Magic until elections could be held. The unofficial reason?

I was framed.

You see, I was once considered a hero by my country, but there are those who hold petty grudges against me. Unfortunately, many of those people hold high positions in the magical British government. So, one Polyjuice potion later, I'm stuck in a courtroom going through a mockery of a trial, knowing that their minds are all but made up.

Of course, their selection of "witnesses" was rather interesting. It seemed that everyone who held some sort of grudge against me was called to testify, while those who would stand by me were either dead or forbidden to even attend.

How disturbingly convenient.

They were mostly Slytherins, the children of Voldemort's Death Eaters, but there were others, even within my own house, who seemed to hate me for one reason or another. Even my supposedly best friend and his sister, Ron and Ginny Weasley, testified against me. O Envy, how I adore you. As I was carted away to Azkaban, which had been regained Ministry control, I was promised that I would be free someday, that I would be found innocent.

That was ten years ago. Or was it eleven? I don't know anymore; the passage of time has no meaning in this hell.

But still, I wait, I continue to have faith, for the one who promised me has never broken a promise to me yet, and I doubt that she will this time. And when I am free, those who imprisoned me, those who betrayed me, will pay dearly.

I guess it's time I tell you my name. I have been called by many things by many people over the years: boy, freak, Scarhead, friend, godson, Boy-Who-Lived, Chosen One, Man-Who-Triumphed, murderer, liar, traitor...but my true name is Harry James Potter.

Now excuse me while I count the stones in my cell again. One, two, three...

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So, whatcha think? I know, it's kind of short, but hey, it's the prologue, what are you gonna do? I'll try to make the regular chapters at least 2,000 words per chapter.

Don't forget to read and review!