Hello. I am writing this because my dear friend challenged me. I won't bother you with the many details but I hope you enjoy and if you want to offer your beta reading services.. Yes please. General warnings: 'Dark' slightly twisted Harry, Bad Dumbledore, lots of Azkaban and eventually violence, bad language and, undecided at the moment, but, if I am to include romance it'll be m/m slash.

I don't own Harry Potter and yada yada ya.. my pockets are empty.

Chapter One.

Delton Dawlish, head Auror and dueling master extraordinary was given the task by the minister himself. It was stated loud and clear. He had to go into the cell three times a day, no more - no less to aid the prisoner wellbeing as quickly as possible and get out.

"You will not speak with the prisoner. Under no circumstances are you allowed to show any weakness or any positive reaction at his being." The minister said at last. Delton nodded although he didn't quite understood. Surely, if the prisoner was as dark and dangerous and any bit of the threat to humanity the minister just said him to be, Delton wasn't going to object and disobey.

"Be careful." With those words the minister waved Delton's dismissal. The man, broad and agile with short - wiry grey hair bowed slightly and left the office to return to his own. In several hours Delton worked through the stack of papers on his desk and afterwards, he checked up on his Aurors.

At six O'clock, when it was time to round up his working day, Delton remembered. Hastily he fixed up his red auror robes in front of the small mirror on the back of his office door. He ran out but tracked back, grabbed the new stack of papers that formed on his desk when he was checking the work floor and resumed his way.

"I'm here for.. " The head auror started and realized he had forgotten the number. He sighed, clattered his stack on the counter from the guard that watched over the entrance to the ministry cells and searched his pockets. "Ah. Here," He smoothed out a piece of parchment with the neath scribble of the minister on it. "I'm here for prisoner five eight O. nine."

The guard, plump and young with eyes hidden behind a bush of curly brown hair who lazily hung back in his chair pointed into the hallway behind him. "At the end, go left. Last door on the right."

"The old interrogation room?"

The guard confirmed. "No need to check up and I won't take your wand. No probs."

Delton raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure?"

"Yep." The guard answered and returned back to his magazine. "The minister himself said it was fine."

To say he was confused was an understatement. Mr. Dawlish came down at the holding cells underneath the ministry often enough and not once, not ever could he go on bypassing general security measurements. A little hesitant in his steps, he greeted the two other guards who stood on either side at the beginning of the hallway. "May I truly walk past without a body check and my wand?"

"Yes Mr. Dawlish." One confirmed and the other smiled reassuringly.

"Thank you." Delton, still hesitant, moved further into the hallway. When he was reaching the bend and looked over his shoulder, the guard was still flipping through his magazine without a care in the world and the other two talked in hushed tones to each other. Obviously it really wasn't a problem. Delton nodded to himself, his assured step returned and he purposefully walked up to the cell.

Some sour smell hung close and Mr. Dawlish sniffled. It almost smelled like.. He sniffled again. Involuntarily, memories of the time his son was still a little baby raced through his mind, showing all the unpleasant sides of being a parent. He scoffed. Baby poo. It smelled like baby poo and given the place, that was impossible.

The sight he met with when the door opened after swiping a keycard past the lock was a sight he would never forget. Instant horror washed over him. He was shocked, frozen on the spot and gripping his knuckles white on the door handle. Where they crazy? He cursed himself for taking his sweet time to pay the visit, shame overriding the horror and then the anger, hurt and resentment towards his superiors settled in. Betrayal too, they at least could've mentioned this. He would've came down sooner.

Delton blinked, once, twice and gaped like a fish on land as the loud wails attacked his ears. Many questions reared up. Who the hell would stash a baby in a holding cell? Who the bloody hell decided that the tiny babe could be a threat to humanity and didn't deserve any love? He shook his head and pulled himself together. It was difficult, because, last time he checked, babies were innocent sweet creatures and not dangerous, evil little things.

Delton smacked the door closed. Maybe a little too hard because the wail choked up for a moment and returned even louder. He winced. Oops. Quickly, he stepped forward in the all white room, up to the small white playpen where the tiny baby lay in and swept it up.

"Sshh.. Sshh.. " The baby's face was blotchy red, tears leaking out crushed closed eyes and little fists mowing through the air. " Shh.. Come on bebe.. Sshh.. " Delton tried to hush the little thing, rocking it in his arms as he walked around the room towards a small desk that was set out in a practical way to clean and feed it. "Hey bebe.. Sshh.. It's going to be alright.. It's going to be fine.. " He raced through his memories voluntarily this time. How did one change a diaper again?