(AN: the POV change is okay. Basically when Harry is talking in First person he's describing his past. So first person is the Harry from the future telling this story. Like a movie were the person starts out talking then the movie starts.

And everyone, i am sorry to say that i had forgotten about this story till a couple of reviewers jump started my interest in this story. You owe the continuation of this story to those readers. I am sorry that I have been forgetting this story a lot but I was busy with some stuff.)

Harry was 22 when he was put in Azkaban in the year spends 150 years in prison and is released 2152. Two years before the Pandora expedition

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When I was first sentenced to life in Azkaban I was angry, but as my twentieth year passed, my anger grew dim, and acceptance ruled. I was sure that this would have happened anyway, that no, matter what I would be in this cell. How could I not, when the world exists as it is?

With acceptance came the yearning to learn. I wanted to know everything I could about my new form, even if I never left my prison. I meditated for days and weeks and months. And by the second month of my 22nd year I could transform at will between four forms; my human form, the phoenix form, the basilisk form, and my new natural hybrid form. By cutting my skin with my teeth, I leaned to heal with my tears. I learned to conjure and control flames, allowing me to see my cell for the first time. With the rats that crawled throughout my cell, I learned to control my petrifying gaze.

It wasn't all fun and games though. I went though my first burning day when I turned 62, 40 years in prison. I was sluggish and I felt brittle and weak. By some instinct I turned into my phoenix form, and experienced the pain and exhilarating pleasure of burning. As my life left me, new life came to take its place. When it was over, depression that had settled over my heart was gone, and I felt at peace once more.

Some ten years after that, I felt the earth screaming. The pain that she felt, for I could feel that she was a her, was immense. I had no idea what to do. Singing wouldn't help and no matter how much I cried, my tears wouldn't heal her.

It was at her prompting that I went to sleep.

I had been asleep for over a hundred years when I finally saw the light of day again.


"Hey! Get up Freak!" the ruff voice echoed throughout a dimly lit cell.

"Steve," a voice worriedly whispered, "don't make It mad. You know the stories."

Two men stood in an illuminated doorway. One was tall with a broad muscular frame and scraggily blond hair that fell in greasy stands around his face. The blond man wore a red shirt and dirty jeans. The other was short and skinny, soft brown hair was combed neatly back, and his clothes were of impeccable taste.

"Oh be quiet Minister." the large man scoffed. "We all know the stories. A hero who betrayed the world for immortality, the one who caused the death of thousands, a monster that the world had never seen." The man spit into the corner. "Its all a load of hogwash to me. This man probably just made a horuxy, and history blew it way out of proportion."

The minister was taken aback for a moment before pulling himself together. "Be that as it may, we must do what is done to all our prisoners and execute them to the veil before the ministry and Azkaban is destroyed."

"W..what…h..happened." The voice was quiet and hoarse from years of disuse.

Looking behind them, the men were greeted by the sight of a small figure huddled in the corner with glowing green serpentine eyes. The small man had long tangled and extremely long dirty hair. The hair was so dirty that color couldn't be distinguished, the hair could be blonde and it would still be indistinct.

The smaller man stepped forward into the damp cell. "Muggles happened. Some hundred years ago…they discovered our world and destroyed it. Since then the world has been steadily decaying. The few of us that are left are retreating to another dimension; you and the other prisoners are sentenced to the veil."

Harry stared in surprise at the man. ~Muggles?~ Harry sent a wave of inquisitive thought to the Earth. She showed him what happened. Images of a mass genocide of anything magical, most, if not all, of magical creatures extinct, the Muggles' pollution killing any magical and mundane plants and animals that were left, and the war that eventually forced the last of magic's and earth's chosen from her. With the steady loss of wizards and witches and other magical life forms she was dying.

~How could this happen?~

Crushed Harry bowed his head in grief and pain.

"Oy!" the gruff voice of the tall man broke through Harry's small time of grief. "we don' got all day. Get up and ready for transport."

Harry looked up at the two men and nodded. Slowly the hybrid untangled himself from his hair and other unmentionable materials. Moving as if every step caused the immortal pain, he walked towards the door.

The taller man, Steve, walked behind Harry, roughly grabbing his arms and retraining him.

After making sure that Harry wasn't going anywhere, they stepped out of the cell, and into the light.