The small room he lived in only had a thin mattress on the floor, a tiny window only big enough to let him see that the world outside was day time as the sun's rays shone through it. It was not big enough for him to climb out of or he would have done it long ago despite the rocky cliffs at the bottom. The room was covered in layers of disgusting green grey and black sludge he was unable to put a name to. The temperature was always cold. The thin cloths he had on did nothing to keep him warm. He had been in this room for years, ever since he had been declared a dangerous creature. He was nine years old now.

The only memories he had were choppy at best and he had a real hard time trying to figure out what was real in his memories and what was a result of his nightmares. Five years since he had been left in hell that he had called home. Not that he knew how much time had passed, his name nor what he did to warrant being in that place. He figured he must have been really bad to be made to suffer like this. He could not remember the last time he saw another person or head anybody speak. It was always quiet, with the exception of his own screams whenever his nightmares surfaced. It happened a lot even when he was wake he could not keep them at bay. He saw the torture he went through before he was locked up in this tiny room. They kept asking him what he had done but he never understood what they wanted him to say. He was so sure he would die during that time but they did something to him. Something that kept him from falling into the abyss that promised no more pain. He didn't want to live anymore. He just wanted the pain to stop.

A scratching sound could be heard on the other side of one of the walls. As if someone was trying to cut through the wall. He heard whispers alongside the scratches but he couldn't understand the words. He huddled into the furthest corner as he saw cracks forming on his side of the wall. Something was coming in. He was frightened. Were they coming to back to torture him again? Small whimpers of fear that he could not contain escaped from him. The wall crumbled and fell to the filthy floor. He didn't want to see what was on the other side. He curled in even more when someone approached him slowly speaking words he could not understand. He waited for the pain that never came when the person had given up speaking and picked him up. He was so tiny anyway even a child the same age as him could pick him up with no problems. The person who picked him up carried him out of the room and through mazes of corridors. He saw many cells as they walked by and other prisoners inside who looked to be in just as bad shape as he was. He was afraid of looking at whoever was carrying him for fear of making himself noticeable so kept his eyes closed.

He felt the warmth of the sun as they stepped outside. A strange feeling of magic brushed across him making his eyes fly open and the sound of whimpers and sobs wrench from within him. He didn't like magic. It was what they had used to torture him. The memories wrought from it made him feel a ghost of the pain panicking him and making him try and get away from it. The person carrying him stopped whatever they were doing when they felt the shivering little body and state of fright. Something he was relieved for as he had not been making any progress trying to move away, he was too weak. The struggling had made him tired. Unconsciousness crept up on him and he slipped into the world of Morpheus.

The next time he woke up he found himself more awake than he had been in a long time. He was aware of his surroundings and the fact that he was lying on the most comfortable place he could ever remember being on. He also noted the absence of pain. It had been a constant for him for so long he felt a little disorientated that it was gone but the one thing he noticed the most was the warmth that encircled him. He was so warm that he was afraid if he moved he might lose it. So he stayed still just enjoying it. He didn't want it to end. He wondered if he had finally died. Is this what death was like? Is that why they had done something to stop him from dying he didn't know nor understand but he liked it. He just hoped that it was not going to be taken away from him. Looking around the room the room he was in he saw that he was in a bedroom. the four poster bed he was lying on was next to a huge window that showed beautiful grounds and a lake off to one side. Here was a dresser and two doors one must be the bathroom and the other the way out. He remembered what a bath was. He had not had one since he had been locked up. He noticed the absence of the smell he was usually surrounded by, someone must have washed him. Why would they do that? In fact why would they allow him to leave now after all this time? Did they decide he wasn't ot be punished any more of were they giving him false hope before the punishing starts again.

They had done that a few times before. Make it seem like they were going to be nice to him and then it started over. He would rather just be left in his miserable cell than go through that again. Be given hope and then have it snatched up again. He would not allow it. He got out of the bed and despite finding he was not able to walk far he got on his hands and knees and crawled to one of the doors. He found the bathroom. Inside he saw a mirror beside the bath and crawled over to it. Grabbing the mirror he smashed it on the floor then picked up one of the large shards and stabbed himself with it. He barely felt the pain and began to cut other areas of his body to make himself bleed faster before any body found him. He refused to go through it all again.

He watched as his life force pooled around him and felt at peace he knew that even if someone found him now there would be no way to save him. The door opened and the man who had carried him from his little room stood there with horror on his face. His wild hair that seemed to defy gravity looked the worse for wear. The man started waving a stick over him and magic washed over him once gain but he wasn't frightened anymore. He didn't feel it. He couldn't hear the hysterics either as more people entered the room, a red headed woman with tears coursing down her face, man with blue eyes being held back by another with honey golden eyes. His sight was the last to go as darkness claimed him. He was finally free.

A feeling of weightlessness settled in him as he was suddenly standing beside his dead body. No-one else could see him as they were now weeping over his dead body. He was strangley detached from it all. At least until he noticed the man standing and watching him. He was dressed in black as if he was deliberately trying to look intimidating. The just watched the scene and then said "Come we have much to discuss.

XxxXxx

Following the man seemed natural and so he went. He was dead now he no longer had to fear the living. He found himself in a small room with two couches facing each other. Sitting in one while the man sat in the other he waited. The man didn't take long to start "I don't usually learn much about the people the people I take to the afterlife after they die, I don't usually care. You however an innocent soul did nothing wrong and you have been living in the depths of hell because of the fears of the people around you. I know you don't remember much of your life let alone your name. I don't know if it's a good idea to tell you the details, it is probably best of you don't remember, however I will tell you that your name was Harry James Potter. You were born as a twin to Harley Lily Potter who became a celebrity at the cost of your childhood. Your parents decided to give you to a man Albus Dumbledore to find you a new home. This was after your twin's celebrity status as a hero was established. However when you turned three you were found hissing to a snake, one of your parents freaked out and began screaming at you, telling you to stop doing that it would turn you evil, the snake struck your mother but luckily it wasn't poisoners. They assumed you had somehow told the snake to do it and decided to allow Dumbledore to find a way to turn you back to the light. You resisted at first by using a shield they could not bring down to get at you. Then they decided that if they starved you enough you would not have the strength to put it up and they could remove you from the house." He stopped watching for the boy's reaction but got nothing. He knew the boy understood but he wondered if could speak or if he wanted to especially after what he had been through. He was not telling everything that had been done to him, he needed the boy to function not break apart so he continued.

"The show of power frightened them. This was because of a prophecy that had been misinterpreted. The part of the prophecy they read wrong stated that the twin of the light side would have a power to destroy mankind. A dark past will arise and empower their enemies. They sought to remove your magic and they did after months of torture to get you to release it, your body changed after they ripped your magic from you adapting to a gene from your family line and refilling you with magic they became afraid. They threw you in Azkaban prison to keep you weak and unable to utilise your magic. However after the return of the one they call Voldemort they found out that they had the wrong twin. Voldemort was furious when your twin was used for his resurrection. He sent a message to the light with her dead body asking them if they thought he was stupid enough to fall for such a distraction. It was the male twin who reflected his spell and he was coming for him next. That was why they removed you from your cell. They realised what they had done and were trying to fix it. Your suicide however leaves them in the lurch. Your parents regret what they did to you."

One side of the wall they were sat in began to ripple and a picture began to show, there were people by a graveside, he remembered the people that had burst into the bathroom when he had cut himself. The woman was hysterical and the man was trying to comfort her with tears running down his face. A similar picture with the other two men who were grieving was on the other side of the coffin. It was an open casket and he saw what he thought was his face. He couldn't remember well he had only gotten a glimpse before smashing it. He looked so tiny nithing like the nine year old he was supposed to be. He still felt strangely detached and did not care that that was his body in the casket he was free of those people.

The next words that came out of the man's mouth made him freeze.