Pierced in the heart,
By a sinister dark,
Thrown from an insecure tongue.
Unaware of the arrow sticking out of his chest,
Embedded when he was so young.

I never would have thought,
that the poison would rot,
away and away and away.
It eats at his pride, and he constantly hides,
Afraid of what others will say.

And often at night,
He turns out the light,
Anxiously waiting for sleep.
The world of his dreams is better it seems,
There he can finally be free.

But the arrow — it stays,
it's there when he wakes.
Binding his feet to the ground,
Perpetually holding him back from his goals.
A mountain he can't get around.

Chapter One

Harry Potter…

Come to me…

Harry Potter…

Hear me…

Harry sat at the breakfast table with Hermione, Ron, George, Percy, Ginny and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley after another sleepless night. He wasn't fully rested and he was on edge, due to the fact that his recent dreams showed him glimpses of Azkaban and pleas from a woman's dry voice. He could smile, though, because The Burrow's kitchen was full of enchanted dishes and light-hearted music that buzzed from a radio-like contraption in the living room. Hermione had her button nose in the Daily Prophet and Ron was stuffing his face from across the table, next to her. George's smile was always shy nowadays, only half there. He humored his mother and father, though, with tales about the business taking off and his wellness. Percy ate silently and politely, sharing a smiling glance with whomever met his eyes. Harry let a warm smile dress his face, and he sighed lovingly. The house was home and the Weasley's were family. Soon to be legally. He looked to his fiancée, Ginny, and she grinned. All was well until Hermione threw the paper into the middle of the table,

"Can you believe this?" Hermione exclaimed.

"Whurght?" Ron asked through two friend eggs and what looked like bacon trying to escape his mouth.

Hermione rolled her eyes and she shot her eyes between all the family members, explaining,

"The Ministry's not stopping at Lucius Malfoy! You'd think they'd be wiser than all this. It's barbaric. They have been putting all these guilty Death Eaters to death. The paper is saying they are interviewed beforehand, for last bits of information or secrets to document – which is a very kind way of saying they're interrogating them, and I, honestly, wouldn't be shocked if we find out ten years from now that the Ministry was torturing them! You can't kill people to show that killing is wrong… Well, last month they killed Lucius Malfoy. It looks like this week they're publically killing Narcissa Malfoy,"

Ron gulped and wide-eyed, responded, "Well, you're right, o'course, 'Mione, but what would you propose they do?"

He glanced to Harry and then back to Hermione, "I mean… they need all the information they can squeeze outta those Death Eaters – what if there was a Plan B, ya know? And I'm sure there are a lotta families that wouldn't be able to rest at night, knowing those Death Eaters are out there, walking about, ya know?"

Hermione frowned and replied, "I know, I do… there just has to be a better way. And torture is entirely unnecessary."

Ginny asked openly, "Are they going to kill Draco Malfoy?"

Harry's heart sank; not that he cared terribly for Draco Malfoy, but the thought that he'd saved Draco from a blazing fire only to have him executed publically – it left him with a pale feeling inside. Hermione shrugged,

"As far as I can tell, they're only executing adults. Draco wasn't eighteen when he was a Death Eater. Not to mention the Ministry's seeing to it that anyone he's ever relied on is dead, so I imagine that'll be punishment enough. They're still trying to collect the Malfoy riches, though,"

George nodded in agreement, "Yeah, I heard about that. Sounds like tons'uh money belongs to the 'Malfoy Heir', which is Draco. The parents aren't tellin', and they can't legally torture or interrogate Malfoy for the answers, so the bankers must be going mad,"

Molly smiled at George as she finally sat down at the table, herself. She looked between George and Mr. Weasley and said, "I think the Malfoy's fortune should be passed down to us! We need it after all. They had one child! Imagine! One!"

"Malfoy riches?" Harry asked, his eyes wandering around the table for someone to explain.

Ginny met his eyes and told him, "The Malfoy's are bloody rich, we all know that, but no one entirely knows how. All that's escaped in rumor is that they've a private, secret spot to save it. It's rumored that it's more than enough money to re-build Hogwarts a hundred times. But Malfoy's parents must be saving that money for Draco, in the likely situation that they'd die during or after the war,"

Hermione looked pleadingly at Harry, then,

"Harry…"

He quirked a brow, "…what?"

"Harry," She said again, reaching her hand across the table to touch his arm, "Savior of the Wizarding World, Harry…"

"No. You know I can't stop the Ministry, Hermione," He cut in.

"Harry!" she whined, "You've got to! You've got to try! You can't let them kill his mother! It's absolutely primitive!"

Harry patted at his lips with his napkin, stood and raised his arms in surrender,

"I can't, Hermione. I really can't get involved. You know they don't take orders from me; I can't just change laws like that. The Ministry is doing what they see fit and, whether I like it or not, they're going to keep doing it,"

He left the room at that and ascended to Ron's room, which he was sharing for the weekend. He heard Hermione grumbling in general discontent to Ron as he left. He fell onto the bed opposite Ron's and sighed, breathing back in all the musty, Earthy smells. Harry had begun worrying that he wasn't aiding the Death Eater parents, only because it felt just.

Deep inside Harry, where that divide of good and evil sat, his darker side insisted that the children of the Dark Lord's reign deserved to be orphaned. Just like he'd been. He knew that wasn't okay, though.

He rolled onto his stomach and contemplated going to the Ministry. He could always plea, but with her execution in a week, he knew there was no way to stop it in time. He quickly resigned to visiting the woman. Not that visiting anyone, especially a non-relative, in Azkaban was legal either. He knew he could do that, though. All that entailed was throwing his invisibility cloak on and following a guard into her cell. He could map that. He was hesitant, though. He felt laziness and doubt enveloping him. Despite wanting to help, he didn't really have the tools or ability to. And even visiting a dying woman, now entirely defenseless, posed some kind of task to him. He pledged to himself that this was the last he'd involve himself in any of the Ministry matters.

He had been in and out of their courtrooms, for months, giving testimonies and convincing juries to trust his leniency on many prisoners. On top of the funerals, the awful public speeches and eulogies he had to give, he just didn't want to do anything more. He saved the Wizarding World, right? He just wanted some time off.

Harry Potter…

He heard echoing around the caverns of his mind.

Harry Potter… in two days. Cell XXIV. Hear me. Hear me.

Harry's eyes felt heavy, looking out the bedroom window to open, sunny hills. His mind's eye was showing him images of Azkaban and a feminine voice was speaking so weakly. The air was humid, warm and comfortable.

Hear me. Hear me.

He could hear waves crashing; he could feel cold, wet stone.

A soft breeze was crossing the fields and trickled against Harry's face as it pushed itself from out the window, into Ron's room. He let his eyelids fall; his full stomach and prior night of restlessness drew him into a gentle sleep.

Hear me.