The Power He Knows Not

Harry rolled his stiff body onto his side, shifting himself into a moderately comfortable position.

Kill

Somewhere in Britain a masked man screamed his last breath.

Yawning Harry shifted a little more, finally finding a position that didn't dig into his ribs, and settled for the night.

At least he thought it was night.

It was hard to tell time from his cell. Although he supposed it would be hard to tell what time it was regardless of where you were in this blasted building, with its dank walls and icy atmosphere.

Well at least the Dementors were no longer around. Nor for that matter were his neighbours, having long since died by the green flash of death.

Harry was indifferent to all of it, and had been for months now. Perhaps even years. Whatever thrill he got out of his mental adventures were long gone, hell even his sense of duty had vanished.

Now, he was just doing it to relieve the boredom.

Kill

'Another one bites the dust' he sang quietly to himself.

A long time ago, he was amused at the literal thought of having his mortal enemy do Harry's job for him. After all, it was always him who had to fight the bad guy. Him who had to face Voldemort time and time again with little to no help from others. Discovering that he could tap into old Voldy's mind, and manipulate the man into being his slave, was almost a blessing.

Almost, because it took so damn long to figure out how he was doing it, and even longer to realise the potential of his link to the man.

After all the shit he put up with in his fifth year, not to mention the grief, well two could play that game.

How he got into Azkaban in the first place was almost a funny story, funny if it had happened to some more deserving bastard of course.

***Flashback***

He had read the Half Blood Prince book from cover to cover, annoying Hermione to no end by using its contents in potions class.

Then along came Draco Bloody Malfoy, and everything went to hell.

The little ferret was up to something, he knew it, but no matter who he went to his worries were ignored. Even Dumbledore all but told him to leave it well alone.

Harry knew he was acting like an angsty teen, but for fucks sake he was trying to HELP!

So after following Malfoy into the bathroom, and being forced to dodge the blonde's hex, Harry had went all out, trying to stun his rival, trying to do anything to get the other teen to tell him why he had cursed Katie, what he was up to.

In his anger he'd used the spell he'd only moments before had read in the book. Sectumsempra. He didn't know what it would do, and he wasn't really thinking he would admit that, so when he rounded the corner to find Draco lying in a pool of rapidly growing blood, he panicked. Uncaring about the damage to the room he dropped next to the blond, trying all healing spells he knew. Nothing worked, and Draco was becoming paler and paler with each passing minute.

In sheer desperation Harry had tore the blonde's shirt open and pressed his hands against the huge gash on the other's chest, ignoring the pained gasp.

'Heal! HEAL!'

He actually thought it was working, but his relief was cut short as harsh hands dragged him away.

'WAIT! IT'S WORKING! I WAS HEALING HIM!'

His pleas fell of deaf ears, and he watched in horror as the blonde's breathing became raspy and weak as he was pulled out the door.

He was vaguely aware of Snape rushing past him as he was taken down the corridor, up stairs, and finally into the Headmaster's office. There he was all but dumped into a chair and watched with heaving breaths as the man slumped into his own, burying his face into his hands.

'Harry, do you have any idea what you have just done?'

'I know it was stupid! But I knew he was the one who cursed Katie! I keep trying to tell you that he's up to something! I just wanted to know what!'

Harry panted as his mind went in a new direction.

'Why did you leave?! You could have helped him! I could have helped him!'

'Professor Snape has the situation well in hand. What I am more concerned about was why you chose to disobey me' Dumbledore replied.

The panic began to subside, only to be replaced by frustration.

'I'm trying to help you! You keep expecting me to save the day and be the hero but you NEVER tell me what's going on! I keep going into things blindly because NO-ONE tells me anything!'

'And did you perhaps think that we do this for a reason? That it is better that you do not know?' the man had the audacity to ask.

Unfortunately Harry had no answer, only a growing list of questions that apparently no-one would help him with. With one last sigh he relaxed completely, head back against the chair.

'I know I was stupid. I used a spell without realising what it even did, and I nearly killed Malfoy. I know that. But I also know that I always seem to be alone in these situations. I'm not asking for every little detail, but even a general idea why I was to ignore him would have helped. Can you even give me that?'

He watched as Dumbledore clasped his hands in front of him, peering over his glasses at the teen.

'You are still too young…'

'Of course I am. Despite the fact that Malfoy is the same age as me and clearly he has been entrusted with something that wouldn't normally be trusted to a teenager. Despite the fact that Hermione and even Ron seems to know more about the situation than I do. Despite the fact that everyone around me seems to want me to do things that clearly I don't know how to do, because I haven't been told or haven't been trained'.

Harry sat up and returned the look.

'I'm just a child, I should be protected from the world, so why not throw me into pearl year after year and see how I do? Why not leave me with people who hate me for being born? Why not leave me completely ignorant to even the most basic knowledge that every muggleborn knows?'

'Now Harry…'

'Don't. I've had enough. You want me to be kept in the dark, well fine. I will stop looking for danger, I will stop trying to protect the world. The next time something happens, I will stay in my dorm like a good little boy, and let the adults deal with the threat. After all, the adults are always right'.

Dumbledore looked on in alarm as the teen stood and trekked wearily out his office. That wasn't what he meant at all. He wanted Harry to follow his plans, without being questioned at every turn, not to give up entirely.

Before he could call the boy back, his fireplace lit up. It would appear that Mr Malfoy had indeed survived, and used the time Harry was in his office to floo call his mother.

***End Flashback***

And that was that. Harry was charged with attempted murder, a full out trial was held (though he noted angrily that not once had veritaserum, pensieve memories or even an oath been mentioned) and he was giving a lovely cell in a floor teeming with Dementors.

To be fair, he had almost killed the ferret, so he supposed he did deserve punishment. But twenty years in Azkaban…Much money must have changed hands for that one, even with Malfoy senior in a cell alongside him.

Ron and Hermione had come to his defence, but not much. Both had to admit that he was going against what he was told, that several adults had specifically told him to stay out of it. And Hermione was only too happy to mention the Half Blood Prince book and how dangerous it could have been.

He was certain he even detected a hint of smugness that she was right.

Nevertheless, he knew he should have received a fairer sentence. But that was in the past, and honestly, he didn't care anymore.

His new ability came a little after, roughly a month into his sentence.

***Flashback***

The Dementors were ruthless. Harry hadn't so much slept as fallen unconscious due to their exposure. And when he wasn't out for the count, he was screaming his throat hoarse.

He thought things couldn't get any worse, after all he was in a tiny, filthy cell that had seen several people (not to mention their waste) over the years, and had near constant exposure to the Dementors night and day. Apparently he was wrong, as one night (not that he knew the passing of time) he received a new visitor, in the form of Voldemort.

The monster had raided his mind, laughing cruelly at his torture, adding to it by pushing images of his victims in their last moments. A week in and Harry wasn't sure what was worse.

A few weeks later he had his answer.

Hogwarts had been breeched. Dumbledore was dead, killed by Malfoy (so that was the bastard's plan) with Snape watching the whole thing, and so were several students and teachers. Very few were spared, and those that were only had the luck of their blood to keep them alive.

It wasn't a very good prospect.

Not long afterwards, the ministry fell, and with that came several more images of dead and tortured bodies for Harry to view at his leisure. Rape, torture and murder became daily images.

Even the Dementors couldn't keep up.

What made it even worse (if that was even possible) was that it wasn't just strangers he was watching. Quite a lot of the victims were people he knew, fellow students, friends.

Finally one day, after watching with despair the monster's followers destroy the burrow, and anyone inside, Harry had had enough. Remembering his "remedial potions" lessons, he waited until Voldemort was engrossed in his crucios, and, ignoring the pain of watching one of the Weasleys fall, he pushed back.

It was almost laughable how easy it was, and the best thing was Voldy hadn't even realised. Harry would change that, and sent as much of his own mental pain back at the man.

The result was, despite the circumstances, very amusing.

Voldemort had screamed, and kept screaming, dropping to the ground he clawed at his head, rolled back and forth like a dog, and just screamed.

His followers had no idea what to do, rushing to him they huddled together, some starting the motions of raising his wand, before hesitating and lowering it.

The pause had allowed the remaining Weasleys to launch a vicious counter attack. It was almost scary the way gentle Arthur tore through the group, while Bill and Ron practically forgot they were wizards and struck out again and with fists until blood was splattered everywhere. And though heavily burnt, by God Ginny was lethal. The survivors managed to grab their lord and retreat, but it came too late for Mrs Weasley, Charlie and Percy.

Harry had watched this through Voldemort's eyes, idly wondering where the twins were and hoping they were ok before returning to the man he was currently invading.

Had Harry been able to watch the aftermath he'd have seen the fourth member fall as Ginny, despite holding her own and fighting like a wildcat, collapse as her legs gave out, and later died of her injuries, only just remaining conscious enough to see her twin brothers appear as the wards shattered, having been trying desperately to get to the house the moment they realised their family was under attack, only to be devastated by what they found.

Harry couldn't work out why his gamble had worked so well, until he realised with sudden clarity that Voldemort was little more than a sliver of himself. There was more insanity in there than logical thought, and by fuelling that insanity, preventing the rational side from getting through, Harry made it all but impossible for the man to stop him.

It was a risk, a big risk. Voldemort could just as easily turn the insanity onto him, causing more pain than before. Especially when Harry discovered his method of immortality, and set to work making the man destroy them. The man actually fought him a little with that one, but he won in the end. Made him giggle though to realise Voldemort was actually afraid of death.

Prison could really do things to a guy's head.

But yes it was risky, then again he was rotting away in Azkaban with no hope of getting out alive, so really what was more pain to what he already had. He was going to take it.

Over the course of the next few years he attacked the monster over and over, stopping raids and preventing him attacking others. At least that was the plan, until Harry realised he wasn't just causing pain, but could actually control Voldemort's actions.

In the depths of Azkaban, he grinned.

Soon Voldemort was attacking his own followers, even killing them. By forcing his way into the man's memories he was able to tell exactly who followed him and what each of them did. And that led him to wonder if he could use the man to rape the minds of others and see their thoughts as well.

As it turned out, he could. He could even control the level of stealth, from ramming in and leaving the victim a drooling mess, to easing in like a soft breeze and rummaging around without the person even knowing he was there.

Of course to do that option he had to bring Voldemort close enough to get in, but with invisibility cloaks and disillusion spells it wasn't too hard.

It helped that most of magical Britain's population had pitiful defences around their buildings. Honestly they were in a war! They could do better than a notice me not spell and a few weak wards! Hell it was Voldemort himself slipping through, even if he was only in to steal a few memories to aid Harry's cause!

He took great delight in forcing the man to send a bloodied Wormtail to the ministry, all wrapped up and with a nice little note pinned to the skin above his dark mark, proclaiming to all that he was the one who betrayed the Potters and not Sirius Black. It was of little comfort to Harry. Not least because what was left of the ministry was full of idiots who couldn't find their arses with both hands, but he thought it was a nice gesture all the same.

Soon he could force his wishes with very little effort, really it was like making a hand gesture and having the man obey like a pup performing a trick for his master. There was even a treat at the end. Harry twisted the man's mind into believing that killing his own people was better than killing innocents, and the pitiful remains of Voldemort's sane side grabbed at the chance to prevent any more pain to his mind and body.

Another realisation was that the man knew how to kill Dementors, and that was why they followed him, in fear of what he would do otherwise. Well that and they would have plenty of souls, so really it wasn't a hard decision. Harry immediately brought Voldemort to Azkaban, and grinned as he forced the man to destroy not only the vile creatures, but also the prisoners.

He thought about getting the man to take him out, then decided he was probably better inside than out. If only to stop people hounding him either to help or to call him the next dark lord.

Well he was helping, but they didn't need to know that. As for the whole next dark lord thing, that only happened once…err twice.

So, instead of escaping, he had Voldemort rape the guard's minds and make them give orders to the Elves to make the food better, and to widen his cell.

And a toilet and bed, those were essential. Oh and heat, heat was good as well.

The other side was baffled, but grateful that the attacks were no longer aimed at them. A pity they were praising the wrong people for the downfall of the dark.

***End Flashback***

There were very few followers left, a scant handful at most.

And Draco and his mother.

Considering how many he had indirectly killed over the years, you'd think killing Draco would be a breeze.

But the thought of it left Harry cold.

Even though Malfoy had had him thrown in Azkaban, even though his mother had pushed for a harsh sentence, Harry just couldn't bring himself to kill Draco.

Eventually he decided to let the blonde live. After all, Draco had been punished enough by his father's death. And of course his own near death experience.

And while Narcissus Malfoy had likely paid to keep him in prison, he had the time to realise that his own mother, had she lived, would probably have done the same if the situation had been reversed.

It left the pair baffled but relieved, and able to flee the country with what was left of their fortune. Harry didn't really care if they returned, though it would have eased his conscience to apologise to Draco, even if the blonde spat in his face.

Harry was content to let them go, but now after years of manipulation and death, he was honest to God bored.

'Kill'

And there went the very last follower.

Harry groaned a bit, now where would he get his fun from.

Figuring he might as well see how magical Britain was fairing he had the husk of a man disguise himself and head out to Diagon Alley.

Then the Ministry. Then Hogwarts.

'You gotta be kidding me'.

It wasn't like he was expecting credit (being in Azkaban meant no-one even knew of his good deeds), but he was hoping magical Britain would wake up and try to clean itself up. After all he had done all the hard work for them, even after the shitty way he'd been treated, so they could at least show some common curtsey and do their part.

But no, it seems without the missing purebloods to lead them around by the nose, and Dumbledore to assert himself with his twinkly eyes, the population had no idea how to act. It was like watching zombies wandering around vacantly.

Idiots.

Well he wasn't hoping for much, and since the Dementors were gone (and his wailing neighbours) he could now relax and enjoy his stay. The food was better, and he had a bed, it was even half decent.

With one last sigh, Harry finally snuffed the lights out on the man once known as Lord Voldemort, leaving his body for all to see.

That night he dreamed he was with his parents. And Sirius. And Remus was there as well. And several generations of Potters. And there was Mrs Weasley (Molly deary, call me Molly) and Charlie and Percy (sorry for being an ass Harry) and Ginny and all the faces of those who had fallen. And all of them welcoming him into their arms. It was a most wonderful feeling, like being whole once more. And look, they were beckoning him. And oh it was so bright and happy and everyone was smiling and laughing and drawing him ever closer. How could he possibly resist.

'For neither can live while the other survives'.