Rivers of Blood

by Soulforger

Summary: After three years in Azkaban, where he discovers something about himself that could spell the damnation of his enemies, Harry breaks out from the dreaded fortress; the problem is, his enemy is the entire wizarding society, and he isn't as merciful as he once was. Either Harry Potter will fall, or the world of wizards will.

Prologue

I've done nothing wrong.

It took me a long time to realise this, but now I know I've done nothing wrong.I followed my beliefs, and I acted upon them. My actions may have led to Sirius' death, but am I to blame?

I don't think so. Dumbledore is. Snape is. And Voldemort, and Bellatrix.

But Dumbledore, he had grown used to being obeyed without questioning, he had grown too used to me being a mindless pawn in his chess game, so why would he feel the need to tell me that Voldemort could use my scar to broadcast his cheesy horror flicks?

I don't know what kind of game Dumbledore is playing, but his manipulations continue even now, that I'm rotting inside of a cell in Azkaban; after all, I remain, to the best of my knowledge, the only one capable of defeating Voldemort. Maybe, when he deems it appropriate, he'll unleash me on Voldemort, hoping to lock me up when I'm done, or hoping we'll just off each other.

Neither scenario is to my liking, though, and I'll make sure neither comes to pass. I've absolutely no intention of dying at the hands of Voldemort, Dumbledore, or wasting away in a cell; actually, I've no intention of dying, period.

The time I spent in prison has helped me to put things in perspective, and, much as I loathe the man, I've gained a great degree of appreciation for Riddle's ultimate goal. But, that'll be a long time from now.

I'm starting to grin, and I wish someone was here to see it; judging from the reactions I got the last time the aurors saw me like this, my face must be something terrifying. Good.

I'll show everyone that no one does this to me and live to tell the tale. I'll show Dumbledore that my power isn't my ability to feel miserable, I'll show him my power isn't love, as he implied, and that I'm all the better for it; I never understood love, it really isn't my forte.

One would think that red headed whore that goes by the name of Ginevra Weasley would understand I was clueless when it came to affection, and that there was no need for her to parade her boyfriends and her whorish ways in front of me, in a futile attempt to make me jealous. Next time I see her, and make no mistake, there will be a next time; I'll tell her that the way she should've used to get my attention was to drop to her knees in front of me, and put that screeching mouth of hers to good use.

I'll leave soon, very soon, as I have waste to dispose of, like Voldemort and his minions, Dumbledore and his orderlies, the ministry, and many, many others. I hate them, all of them. If any of those yokels knew the extent of my hate, or the unimaginable greatness of the power I now have at my disposal, they would shit themselves, run, and hide. Like the dementors did.

Sensible creatures, really, as soon as I "awoke" and they understood what they faced, they ran from me. Oh, they're still here, at least the ones the ministry was able to bribe into coming back, but they haven't come near me in a long time; they rarely show up in my corridor, and when they are forced to, they glide past my cell as if the hounds of hell are on their heels.

Now, to make a big decision: wait here for Dumbledore to grow desperate enough to let me out, or simply blast my way out and cause the largest manhunt this putrid society ever undertook?

On second thought, I'll just order one of the dementors to let me out; as luck would have it, one of them is coming my way right now. I called out to get the attention of the little shit, and as he approached, I could see the 7foot tall aberration trembling in fear. I chuckled at being able to terrorize fear itself; it really is a boost to one's ego.

I order it to let me out, and it complies. It knows I can get out, one way or another, and it clearly prefers a peaceful solution. It fumbles with the lock, trying to get the door opened, but I quickly loose my patience and decide to get myself out.

"You're taking TOO FUCKING LONG!"

The cell door is blasted out, trapping the dementor behind it between the door and the wall it got imbedded in. The disgusting creature is obviously dead, it's physical form destroyed and oozing black blood, for lack of a better term; nothing would survive that impact.

I leave my cell, my humble abode for the last three years, and prowl the corridors of the ominous prison, a free man once again.

Wizard kind would pay.