Categories > Books > Harry Potter > Hero, Villain, Savior, Conqueror

Chapter One: Swirling Thoughts

by Aerin 0 reviews

In which we find reactions and Harry is bored. Very bored.

Category: Harry Potter - Rating: PG-13 - Genres: Angst, Drama, Romance - Characters: Harry, Other - Warnings: [!] - Published: 2005-06-03 - Updated: 2005-06-04 - 1883 words

A/N: Nothing important to say... Block says hi... Block: waves

Hero, Villain, Saviour, Conqueror

Chapter One: Swirling Thoughts

Harry paced his cell. Three days, only three bloody days, and already he was struggling to stay sane. For the billionth time he regarded the rune on his hand and wondered.
How had it gotten there? Perhaps all prisoners had one? But no, he had never seen a rune on Sirius' hand... Sirius. The pain of the loss came flooding back and he pushed it down, trying to concentrate on the matter at hand.

Maybe anyone on the island had it, and it wasn't there when they left? He supposed it was possible, but what would the point be? Maybe it wasn't generic; maybe it was unique to him. Maybe it was only given to high-security prisoners? But then Sirius would still have had one... No, maybe it was some kind of tracker, and they had only implemented it after Sirius had escaped... That made sense. That was probably what it was.

So that meant that even if he did escape, it would be hopeless. He would just be recaptured again.

His depressing line of thought, and all thought for the moment at that, ended as a group of Dementors swept past his cell and he passed out.


Nimi walked towards Lieutenant Grenn. "Lieutenant," she said mildly.

He immediately snapped to attention. "Captain Stardreamer, ma'am!"

She grinned. "At ease, soldier. I'm here to relieve you. Lieutenant Porschiabeleia is out today with the flu, and having potions poured down her throat by Helene. That means I'm filling in, so you can go catch up with... What was this one's name? Anna?"

He scowled at her. "It's Georgia."

Nimi shrugged. "What do I know, other than they're all blond, size 5, and bimbos with absolutely no brain." She playfully smacked him on the arm. "Go have a good time, soldier."

He grinned at her, saluted, and almost ran down the corridor. "Kids today," she said, shaking her head with a sigh, completely ignoring the fact that he was almost ten years her senior.

At fourteen, about half of the Azkaban Militia thought that she was far too young to be a Captain, and the other half felt that she was far too skilled to be limited to that. Unfortunately, her superiors agreed with the first half. And while they couldn't demote her without extreme reason, they weren't about to promote her either.

'Maybe I'll petition to the Council,' she thought idly before snorting unladylike. 'Yeah right. The only thing they're concerned with is finding the Heir,'
With good reason, she had to admit; the Isle of Azkaban had gone far too long without a Lord. The past one had died nearly 50 years ago during the war against Grindlewald, and since then the Ministry had slowly but surely taken over the Isle. She knew that if they didn't find the Heir soon, Azkaban would be complete Ministry domain and become one giant prison.

She didn't like to think of where she'd go if that happened; she had rarely left the Isle in her life, and from what she had seen hated London's Magical Community. Perhaps Ireland? She had heard that magic was far more abundant and lenient there. She had a bit of Irish heritage mixed in with the Azkabanian, and always wanted to see the place.
She patrolled the corridors, absentmindedly tugging on a strand of light brown hair with part of a dark brown lock mixed in. That was the thing about her hair; while she considered it a dark brown, it was filled with strands of hair such a light brown it could easily be mistaken for blond. The streaks had gotten wider over the years, and now it was hard to tell which was the base color and which were the streaks.

Her chestnut brown gaze peered into every cell she passed, ignoring the remarks that came. The pleading, the begging, the insane cackling... All was common at the prison. What was uncommon, though, was for a prisoner to be passed out on the floor of his cell.
If the Lord was in control, she wouldn't have thought twice about going in and checking on the man, but as the Ministry was, she knew that she would be breaking several of their newly laid-down "laws" that basically gave the Azkabanians no freedom and the prisoners no kindness. At all.

With a heavy sigh, she continued onto the next cell, never knowing that the man in the cell she had passed would change the course of her life, and many others lives, for years to come.


Dumbledore settled into his chair. "Stupid lad," he muttered to himself. Why had the boy had to go and ruin everything? It had all been going so well; the boy had almost been ready to fight the Dark Lord and save the world, and then he had to go and kill them and get himself arrested.

Snape entered and sat down in the chair in front of Dumbledore's desk, sneering. "I always knew that the boy was trouble," he hissed. "From the moment I laid eyes on him, I knew that nothing good would come from that stupid Potter boy."

Dumbledore nodded sadly. "Yes Severus, I should have listened to you. You were right about Mr. Potter; we should have just left him at the Dursleys' and never sent him his letter."

Snape nodded, and the two sat in an amicable silence, not knowing just how wrong they were.


Ron and Hermione were talking.

"I can't believe we never noticed."

"Me neither."

"We're such imbeciles!"


"I mean, we should have at least seen that he was turning Dark!"


"How could we have missed it! Oh, I'm such a fool!"

"Yea, sounds right."

"You too!"


"But really, we could have saved all of those lives!"


"Not to mention Cedric- he probably killed the poor guy himself!"

"Guess so."

"And Sirius- I bet that he wanted him to fall!"


"Well, maybe not, he did seem to love the guy like a father..."


"But still!"


It was a rather one-sided conversation.


Remus threw something at the wall. He didn't really know what it was... nor did he particularly care. His best friend's son. His other best friend's godson. The son of the woman he considered a sister.

And what did the prodigal son do? He threw their trust, their support in the wind and committed murder. He had even admitted to considering joining the Dark Lord. The question that reverberated in his mind... Why?

Why would he betray them like that? What had they done? What had the ones he'd brutally slaughtered done? Nothing. Nothing at all. So why had he done what he had?


Luna sat, her head bowed, her hair falling around her face like a wave so that no one could see the tears that she cried.

He was innocent. She knew he was innocent. They were too similar. She could almost, almost read his mind, and she knew that no matter what happened, he would never do something like that.

Of course, when she had expressed her opinion to her father he had locked her in her room to prevent her attending the trial. And when she had heard of his conviction, she had started to cry.

She hadn't stopped since.

How could they lock him away? After all he had done for them, for the world, they just said "Oh, thanks very much, now you can go rot away in prison reliving your worst memories."

What had he done to them? He had dared to save all of their lives time and time again? Why would they lock him up for that? Why couldn't they understand? Why would the boy who had saved them all so many times hurt people like that?

Her friendships had all ended when she had written Ginny, Neville, Hermione and Ron to ask if they thought Harry innocent as well. She had gotten four howlers back.
With a sniffle, she fell backwards onto her bed. Maybe he would get out, like his Godfather before him. Maybe, just maybe...


Harry rolled over on his back and stared at the ceiling. Bored. Yes, that just about summed up his life right now. That and shocked, horrified, scared, and betrayed.
He thought back to his trial. He wondered who had brewed the Veritaserum. Snape, perhaps? That would explain why it hadn't worked properly. Or maybe something else. He didn't know. All he knew was that he was innocent.

He had thought it odd when Sirius said that innocence wasn't a happy thought, back in his third year. To him, innocence had meant knowing that you didn't do it, that you didn't have to feel bad about it. That wasn't true, he knew that now.

Innocence brought thoughts. Thoughts of those who hadn't believed you, and those who should have. Thoughts of the people who had died, even if he hadn't been the direct cause. Thoughts of the hellhole he was now stuck in because of Voldemort and his bloody Death Eaters.

And Azkaban Prison was just that- a hellhole. The prisoners were served gruel, if it could be classified as that even- Harry had found the tail of a worm in his once. He had idly wondered if it belonged to Pettigrew before tossing it aside.

The slept on the cold slimy floor with nothing between them and the green goop that oozed through the stones than one small, tiny blanket that often had to be used for the small bit of warmth it provided.

They weren't given uniforms; they remained dressed in whatever they had had on. Harry's robes were already dirty, and looking around he could see prisoners with robes more worn than Sirius' had been after his escape.

In the corner of the cell was a lavatory... well, it was actually a pit that reeked. Harry ad learned to stay as far away from that particular corner as possible.
Human guards passed once every six hours or so. No one interesting that he had seen, but he had missed one or two of them because of being in a Dementor-induced semi-coma. He supposed that the tall, skinny man with the curly chestnut hair that always seemed to be wearing a smile was interesting enough, but his open face really left nothing to the imagination.

You couldn't speculate about him really... it was obvious that he was happy about something, probably a girlfriend from the goofy-looking smile. Nope, no fun. Better than the Dementors, though. They swept through every hour or two, an Harry passed out almost every time. Once he had managed to stay awake, but that was because when he had fallen he had bumped his head on the wall and immediately awakened with an "Ouch".
He wondered what cell Sirius had stayed in. Had it been this one? Or another? Probably another, as there were so many of them. From his calculations, he guessed it was about 1200. And his cell was eight paces by ten, and the ceiling had 8,942 little holes in it...

Oh yes, he was bored.

A/N: And that would be Chapter One...

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