With brutal force Harry Potter was thrown into one of the cells of Azkaban.

Hard he fell on the unyielding rock floor and sprained his wrist. But he hardly noticed it. He was deathly pale and shivering, helplessly exposed for hours to the influences of the Dementors, who had brought him the long way from the Wizarding Ministry. For hours he was tortured by the screams of his mother. His face was swollen, a result of the slaps of a certain Molly and Ginny Weasley and Hermione Granger, his jaw cracked, thanks to a certain Remus Lupine.

But even more painful than all these were the last words he had heard before the Dementors' darkness had seized him, words that also came from Remus Lupine and that he had spoken with an almost animal look:

"You are not a Potter. Your parents would turn around in the grave if they knew what you were doing. Sirius would turn in the grave. You are an absolute shame for the name of Potter. " That was the last thing he thought of before the pain of the sprained ankle drove him finally over the threshold of redemptive powerlessness.

Were it minutes, hours, or days since he fainted? He did not know it, he just knew he was awake, his bones hurt and he lay on a hard cold stone floor.

He struggled to his feet.

A sound of metal on metal alarmed him and he turned to the side.

An old man looked him through the bars, just as Harry studied him.

Something was wrong with the man, Harry thought. Something ... he recognized it. The old man's steel-gray eyes glowed with inner energy and power, they looked at him watchfully and intelligently ... but they should be lifeless and broken. He knew he was in the high-security wing, and he knew, thanks to his two human guards, that he was the first one in ten years to be put into this wing. And it was also the only tract in Azkaban still guarded by Ministry-loyal Dementors.

"You look familiar, lad." The old man said in a cold voice.

"Who are you?" Harry asked in a rough voice.

The man just glanced down the corridor between the cells and a feeling of coldness spread in Harry.

"Get ready, lads, they come to feed themselves. Lock your mind or go insane. "

After half an hour the Dementors had disappeared, for Harry it was like an eternity. He had collapsed groaning on the cell floor.

"What's your name?" The man asked after a while.

"Harry ... Harry Potter," Harry murmured distantly.

"Potter, that's interesting, listen to me, Harry, if you can close your mind, master Occlumency, then you can survive, if you master that, we'll see how we get you out of here."

Harry looked at him in surprise and nodded.

"Well, listen to me ..."

A month later, a weakened, but nonetheless still clearly-minded, Harry was talking to his new mentor Ignatius. The man had not told him more about himself.

"An Animagus? I've already thought of that, but unfortunately I'm not in a position to change, Harry. But you maybe. If your father was an Animagus, then you are very likely to become one too. I can help you..."

They were interrupted as the heavy steel door opened to the corridor between the cells.

"That's unusual." Ignatius muttered before his facial expressions turned into those of a senile old man and he mumbled meaningless stuff in front of him.

A strong man with red hair stepped into the corridor and Harry looked pleased.

"Bill?" Harry asked hopefully, but his hope died as he noticed the almost manic expression in Bill's eyes and the stick he held in his hand.

"Incarcerus!" Bill called with his wand outstretched, and Harry found himself tied back by magic ropes.

An hour of pain followed, three broken ribs and countless bruises and lacerations.

"HEALER!" Was the last thing Harry heard from Ignatius, shortly after Bill left him, before sinking into gracious fainting.

He woke up in a white room, tied to a hospital bed.

A healer bent over him and poured him a potion.

He felt the pain in his ribs subside.

"Who was that, Mr. Potter?" Asked the nurse in a cold voice.

Harry was silent.

One day later, he was taken back to his cell.

March 1998 - outbreak

"The month is over Harry. Your redheaded friend should be here soon. It is so far. "

Harry nodded, his green eyes, which used to smile friendly, were as hard as emeralds.

He had learned a lot in the last two years, things that had previously seemed impossible to him.

"So Ignatius, do not you think it's time to explain why you thought I looked familiar?"

The Old Man grinned, "I was Grindelwald's right hand, Harry, and we had a powerful ally, Lord Zaire, and you have a certain resemblance to him. Go to Gringotts and have the magic inheritance test done, Harry. If I'm right, you'll find out something that could help you face your fate and pay it back to your 'friends'.

An icy glint entered his green eyes as he nodded.

"Who was this Lord Zaire?"

"He was an Allied Grindelwald."

"A dark wizard?"

"Remember what I taught you, Harry. There is no dark magic and white magic. Only the intention counts. And no, he was not a bad wizard, hard and fair, but not evil. He was a master of the dark arts and ruler of all kinds of dark creatures, including the Dementors, Harry. Take advantage of that. He was, in fact, a lord, ruler of the Scadish Islands. "

"The Scydian Islands?"

"Yes, they are not really under the Ministry ... and the wizards only come to one of them," Ignatius said with a grin.

Harry's eyes widened slightly, a miracle in itself, for two years of Azkaban had made him a tough young man. His tattered clothes, his long matted hair, and his dirty beard hid the fact that he was neither insane nor weak and fragile. After a month of Azkaban, he had mastered Occlumency under the masterful guidance of Ignatius to such a degree that he could fade out the Dementors and his experiences here had made him hide his emotions well.

"Azkaban?" He asked.

Ignatius nodded.

"Thank you for everything, Ignatius."

"Never mind. We had much to thank Lord Zaire for. Just a pity that I do not live to see you coming back here. "

"WHAT?"

"I'm dying. I have two more days, at most, Harry. "

Harry stared at the old man and friend stunned.

"Do not worry, Harry. I've done a lot of bad things, and by helping you, an innocent and betrayed soul, I've at least been able to apologize. "

As if to underline his words, Ignatius coughed suddenly, not a coughing cold, but a veritable spasm and he spat blood.

"How did you hide it from me for so long?"

"Stabless magic, remember? But I could only stop the disease, not cure it. "

"But ..." "Harry! Let it be good. It is too late. Get ready! He comes. Farewell! "

"Farewell, Ignatius and thank you." Harry said with sad eyes.

An hour later, he was again with broken ribs in the hospital wing of the island. And again the sister mended him. Only Harry was not unconscious this time.

He waited for the potions to work, then closed his eyes and concentrated heavily.

Suddenly, the heavy handcuffs that bound him to the bed grabbed him and, groaning, he straightened up.

Carefully, he looked around. He put in some of the healing potions. A dark gray simple robe hanging by the door, he quickly threw himself over his clothes.

Then he sat down next to the door and waited for the nurse.

When she came, he grabbed lightning fast from behind and held her mouth shut. Quietly, he closed the door with his free hand and tore her wand from her hand.

"Stupor!" He muttered, and the nurse collapsed unconscious, catching her and laying her on the bed, pocketing his wand, closing his eyes again.

A minute later, he disappeared through the window from the prison.

Two days later in Hogsmeade. It was a Saturday and the students and teachers of Hogwarts enjoyed the beautiful spring day. Hermione looked around carefully, with Aurors and members of the Order all over. Voldemort had gained power in the past two years, but he had not dared attack larger targets yet. He had all the time in the world since Harry was in jail.

Hermione swallowed as she thought of her first great love that had betrayed them all.

As always, she hurried to Hogsmeade's largest bookstore.

As she passed a narrow alley, she was suddenly brutally seized and pulled into the alley. Even before she could scream, she had a rough hand over her mouth.

She started to shiver.

"Not seen long, Granger," said a harsh voice she did not recognize.

Then it was black in front of her eyes.

She woke up in a dark room, a bright lamp facing her.

"Where's Ron Weasley?" A man asked out of the darkness.

"You can not get away with that!" Hermione cried desperately.

"Where is Ron Weasley?" The man repeated the question unimpressed.

"I will not tell you anything!" Spat Hermione.

She heard a murmured spell and suddenly she found herself in a circle of blazing flames and the heat threatened to suffocate and burn her.

"Where is Ron Weasley?" The man asked, still completely blank.

"I'll ..." she watched with horror as the circle slowly drew closer and closer.

"He ..." she stammered in despair, "He works in the ministry, as ... as an assistant to Percy, his brother." she sobbed, "Please do not do anything to my fiancé."

She could not see the emerald green eyes of the man narrowing, but he picked up the spell and she let out a relieved air.

"Will you let me go now? Please ... I ... I'm pregnant. "She sobbed.

"How could you make yourself impregnated by this bastard?" The man spat with hatred and contempt, and Hermione went a few steps paler at the coldness in the man's voice, tears running down her cheeks.

"You're welcome! I did not harm them! "Hermione pleaded.

"Did not you? I have a different view. ... But no matter, I'm afraid I still need you. "

She soon felt herself being seized by a strong hand from behind, then she felt a familiar pull behind her belly button before she was torn away into unknown distances.