Chapter 1 - Azkaban

Two aurors in red robes entered the great hall and walked to the Gryffindor table. Harry frowned. Had they found the Heir of Slytherin? In Gryffindor? Then they came down his aisle and stopped right behind him. Suddenly, sweat sprung up on his spine.

"Mr Potter?"

He turned around, fear bubbling up in his stomach, and looked up.

"Please put your hands flat on the table where we can see them and stand up. Where do you have your wand?"

Harry almost panicked, but figured he'd best cooperate. He knew he was innocent. They'd figure it out, and he'd be free again.

"M- my back pocket."

Harry stood up, his hands on the table. He felt one of the aurors take his wand from his pocket, putting him at their mercy.

"You are under arrest for the investigation about the self-proclaimed Heir of Slytherin. You're coming with us to the DMLE now."

On one side, Ron gaped, completely speechless. On the other, Hermione was weakly protesting his innocence, but with an amount of doubt in her voice that cut straight into Harry's heart. He could feel the tears start in the corners of his eyes as the aurors cuffed his hands behind his back. A glance at the head table revealed total silence - and a smug Snape. Did they really believe that Harry was the heir?Heir of Slytherinhe had been, Snape would've been his number 1 target. Not Mrs. Norris, and not Colin Creevey, who was found yesterday. It seemed no professor would speak to his defense. The entire hall was silent, probably from shock. Harry knew he couldn't get a word out. A glance at the Slytherin table showed that Malfoy found it incredibly funny, hilariousember that.

After leaving the castle, they took him to the entrance gate. One of the aurors put a rope in Harry's hand behind his back, telling him to hold on to it, both of them also grabbing it. Suddenly, he felt a painful jerk behind his navel, and it pulled him through a vortex of spinning colors. On arrival of the portkey, he lost his balance, and started falling. Unable to catch himself, he thought he'd fall on his face, but the aurors held his hands up by his cuffs. This prevented him from breaking his nose, but it gave him an uncomfortable jerk at his arm sockets. They dragged him through a few doors and pushed into a cell. They freed his arms, at least, but there wasn't much — just a bed and a bucket for his bodily waste. Well, at least it wasn't cold here.

He would be in the cell for two weeks, awaiting his trial.

On the day of his trial, he was bound and taken to the courtroom by the same two red-robed aurors. He'd gotten their names - Dawlish and Proudfoot. Into the room, they roughly put him into a rather uncomfortable wooden chair. There were iron chains attached to the chair which came alive and bound him. The aurors took up station behind him. Looking around, he noticed a lot of magicals in plum-colored robes. On other stands, he saw several people from Hogwarts. Hermione. Ron. The other Weasleys. There was a thin girl with straight long white-blonde hair there he didn't recognize, next to Mrs Weasley. He saw Malfoy, grinning like a loon, with Parkinson next to him. Susan Bones, a Hufflepuff who'd always seemed kind to him before, but now looked something between scared and angry at him. The other Gryffindor boys. Basically everyone he knew, and more. There were also several people straight in front of him, and one of those got drew Harry's attention back by speaking.

"Today is the trial for Harry James Potter. Prosecutor is Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Amelia Bones. Judges are Warlock Amos Diggory, Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge, and Warlock David Greengrass. Warlock Lucius Malfoy has been assigned to defend the accused. The accusations are: First, keeping a class XXXXX dangerous animal, specifically a basilisk, in a school containing 322 children. Second, using aforementioned basilisk as a weapon against a pet. Third, using aforementioned basilisk as a weapon for a murder attempt on one Colin Creevey, a muggleborn. Fourth, using this weapon to inflict grievous bodily harm on Colin Creevey, specifically petrification. Mr Harry Potter, do you understand the charges?"

Harry swallowed, his mouth dry. It sounded… very serious. He also wondered what a basilisk was. It hadn't come up during Care of Magical Creatures or Defense against the Dark Arts yet.

"I understand."

"How do you plead?"

"I am innocent… of… all that…"

"Let it be noted that the accused pleads not guilty to all charges. Madam Bones, please state your case."

A stern-looking woman stood up. She looked to be around thirty, but a witch's look could be deceiving if you were used to muggles. For all he knew, she could be seventy. She had a hard face, but even her wide robes could not completely hide the fact that she had quite the chest. Odd, the things you notice in high-stress situations. Her eyes were cold and merciless, and it was clear to Harry that she considered him guilty.

"From investigations, it is clear that there has been a basilisk near the place where Mr. Colin Creevey was found. There was some minor friction damage on the stones and a nearby portrait that tested positive for basilisk-related magical residue. Petrification as a symptom is consistent with indirect exposure to the gaze of a basilisk, and Mr. Creevey was petrified with a camera in front of his eye. Sadly, the film was completely destroyed, not leaving any clearer evidence."

She continued.

"Basilisks are immune to all forms of mind control, but it is widely accepted that they serve parselmouths. We have anecdotes to this effect from India, where that skill is more common. There have been 4 registered cases of attacks with basilisks over the past 20 years, and in each, a parselmouth was controlling it."

They followed that statement up with an Unspeakable, who testified as an expert. he stated that parselmouths could control basilisks, and that basilisks are practically immune to other methods of control.

Then Madam Bones continued.

"We have executed a parselmouth test on all Hogwarts students and professors. Details of this test are available in the Department of Mysteries. We know that Mr. Potter is a parselmouth, and that there was nobody else at Hogwarts with that ability."

Madam Bones sat down again.

"Thank you, Madam Bones." It was the Minister, Fudge, who spoke. "Mr. Potter, do you have anything to respond to this?"

Harry tried to think as fast as possible. He glanced at Lucius Malfoy, a well-groomed man who resembled his eldest son, Draco, both in looks and aloofness, looking expectantly at him.

"I… What Madam Bones stated was that I could have done it, but nothing that says that I specifically did it. I… I heard that there was a potion that forces you to tell the truth. Can I just take that?"

Malfoy senior leaned over and spoke softly.

"I'm afraid not, Mr. Potter, veritaserum is lethal to anybody under 15 years of age."

Harry looked down for a moment. He didn't trust Malfoy, but it wasn't like he had any other options. He looked at Lord Malfoy again.

"Can you explain to them that it's not the sort of thing I would actually do? Or that the basilisk could have done it by itself without me controlling it." Malfoy nodded.

"As a last defense…." Harry gnashed his teeth. Way to make him sound guilty. "… the defendant wishes to inform the court that he simply isn't the sort of person to assault his peers. His multiple detentions at Hogwarts for fighting do not indicate a trend. He also claims that the basilisk could have done the attacks autonomically, despite it not being spotted by the portraits and despite it not having been active for a long time before and waiting between attacks."

Fudge nodded and took the word again.

"I have been notified that several others wanted to make a statement about this case before the Wizengamot. Please be aware that Madam Bones for the prosecution, as well as Mr. Potter for the defense, will both be allowed to question those who make a statement about it."

One by one, others came forward. Ron was the first and most painful to Harry, claiming that everyone knew that all parseltongues were evil. He didn't even know the difference between parselmouth-the-ability and parseltongue-the-language. Hermione was apparently convinced that if he got arrested for it, then he had to be guilty, because adults didn't make mistakes like that. Snape told everyone that Harry always considered himself above the rules and was the sort of person who would kill people for fun. Draco claimed Harry had threatened people with the basilisk and said that Creevey probably had refused to pay protection money. But even at Harry's question, he couldn't name a source or someone else who'd paid Harry protection money. Then the thin, ethereal looking blonde girl who'd been sitting next to Molly Weasley had her turn.

"I believe Mister Potter is innocent of this."

Huh. That was a first. Harry tried to suppress his sarcastic response. It wasn't exactly funny, but he'd been losing hope already.

"First, Harry is not that kind of person. He has shown in the past to risk his life, for example, with the Halloween incident last year, where he selflessly saved a muggleborn witch from death by troll. That is not the act of an Heir of Slytherin wishing to purge all muggleborns from Hogwarts. Second, I've not seen any nefarious wrackspurts near Harry since the start of term. Third, the Heliopaths in the Department of Mysteries could also have controlled the basilisk."

It was completely silent for an uncomfortably long time. While Harry appreciated that someone came to his defense, he didn't think it helpful that his only defender was talking about some animal or whatever wrackspurts were, which apparently nobody else could see. He looked at her, but she seemed totally honest and upfront. None asked her questions, and others added more damning statements to the pile.

At the end, he was judged guilty, and sentenced to Azkaban for 3 years — it'd only been a muggleborn boy, not a pureblood. Having been chained to the wooden chair for over 4 hours and his mind being rather busy thinking up the worst that would happen to him, he was too weak to walk on his own. He was portkeyed to a rather rickety dock, and pushed in a small boat with 4 aurors on it, held at wand point the entire time. After a while, he spotted a depressing black chunk of rock jutting from the water, which appeared as if a forgetful giant had dropped it into the ocean. Getting closer, he felt it become colder, and he saw black shapes moving around it. He could make out tiny barred windows apparently carved into the rock side. They moored on a pier and marched him a path upwards to the entrance. He felt the cold intensify, and he could swear he heard a woman screaming, but he couldn't make out what. He felt his body become weaker. When they marched past a black shape up close, he collapsed unconscious.

"No, not Harry!"

"Stand aside, you stupid mudblood. You don't have to die."

"Don't kill Harry, please, anything but that!"

"So be it. Avada Kedavra."

A green flash of light, and he felt as much as saw a shape collapsing, her long copper-red hair trailing her to the floor. Harry felt himself reach out to her, not understanding why she fell.

"Mummy?"

The other shape came closer.

"'Mummy' won't come to you ever again, Harry Potter. Today, I defy the prophecy. You die by my hand."

Harry saw a stick being raised towards his head. Daddy had one of those and sometimes made him fly with it. That was amazing, even though he never did it while Mummy was around. But he didn't see any of the joy in this man's red eyes. He opened his mouth to ask a question, but the man spoke before he could.

"Avada Kedavra."

He felt a cold sensation hit his face, its tendrils stretching across his body. Then he felt warmth, that reminded him of Mummy, pushing it back. Back out. A green light lanced from his head, leaving a scar behind as it struck the man with red eyes straight in the chest. There was a look of surprise on his face before he, too, collapsed.

He would never see Mummy again.

He was at the trial, his best friend Ron denouncing him as a Dark Lord.

He was at the girls' bathroom, a troll standing over Hermione's corpse. It couldn't be true, could it? He wasn't sure anymore, he'd seen this so often. And it was all his fault. Then Hermione laughed at him as they dragged him into Azkaban.

In front of the Mirror of Erised, he saw Quirrell holding a red stone, laughing at a bound Harry.

Dudley chased him into a dead end between three houses, and then he and a few others strolled towards Harry. He felt every kick and every punch. The sound of his leg breaking was inhumanly loud in his ears, and again he felt every stab of pain when he walked home on it.

A monster without shape, standing over the corpse of a blond girl - the only one who had spoken in his defense. He didn't even know her name, but now she was dead because she'd defended him. Harry brought death to everyone who didn't betray him, thereby betraying them. He didn't deserve any friends.

In the courtroom again. Fudge spoke.

"You are hereby sentenced to Azkaban for three years. My only regret is that I cannot put you away for life, but I am pleased knowing that you cannot harm anyone for as long as you are there."

Harry startled awake. His cell was grimy and clammy. Every waking and sleeping moment, the dementors of Azkaban had been in his mind, dredging up his worst memories, or even showing him fabricated ones of what would, could, might or couldn't happen. Every happy moment, every success, all was twisted into fear and despair.

"Hey look, ickle Hawwy woke up again. No more sleepy-sleepy? Time to pway?"

And that didn't help either. He looked up at the only cell he could see from his own - one containing a certain Bellatrix Lestrange. He had no clue what she was in for. She didn't really talk about her past, choosing to mock Harry as much as possible instead. Harry sat down on the ground with his back against the wall.

"Morning Bella."

"Shut your filthy half-blood mouth, Potter." She spat. "You aren't worthy to speak my first name. And you'll never be."

"Tell me Bella, what are you in for, actually?"

"Do NOT call me that. Only my master can call me that."

Harry sighed. "I will call you Lestrange, but then you have to tell me what you're in for."

She looked at him, thinking it over. Then she shrugged. Apparently it wasn't a secret.

"After my master had his… setback, I tortured a few aurors for information. They either didn't have it, or they went insane too fast. Because we didn't get out fast enough, we got put in here."

"So your master is Voldemort? You're a -" Then she cut him off.

"Silence. You are NOT allowed to say his name! His name is sacred!"

"You're a Death Eater?"

"I'm not just a Death Eater, I am one of the Dark Lord's most trusted, and his single most devout follower."

That sounded quite proud. Harry didn't know what to say about that anymore.

"Longbottom."

Harry frowned. What did she have to do with Neville?

"What about Neville?"

"Oh, that was the brat's name, right? No, I was talking about the aurors I tortured. They were Frank and Alice Longbottom. It felt so good to hold the cruciatus on them… to feel their hopes, their dreams and their care for their son slip away from their mind…."

The crazy woman opposite Harry looked to be savoring the memory. It was so creepy, it might make an additional memory for him for the dementors to use. It'd probably be better to stop talking to her.

If only he'd have that option…

Over the days, Harry felt his mind get weaker. The dementors came in harder. He felt fear and despair taking him over. He couldn't remember feeling happy or warm. He had been so happy when he came to Hogwarts, but now he only remembered being anxious, and that they betrayed him. He remembered the fear of fighting the troll to save Hermione's life, but not the warmth of her hug after. He felt the pain as she told him that all those adults putting him in prison couldn't possibly be wrong. He couldn't remember his first train to Hogwarts, surprisingly making a friend right away, instead only remembering that traitor calling him a dark wizard for something he had no control over. He didn't remember the joy of flight on his Nimbus 2000, but he remembered it rebelling against his touch and trying to throw him off under Quirrell's direction. He remembered a hexed bludger coming after him, the pure fear for his life. He couldn't remember how he got rid of it, or even who blew it up before it could harm him after the match was over.

What good had Hogwarts been for him? He hadn't been happy, not truly. Just fear, anxiousness and tiredness from hard work. Stress from the bushy-haired witch nagging him about his exams. Everyone looking at him as if he was a zoo animal. He'd never in his life known happiness.

A week after the start of his incarceration, Harry felt his mind break. A dementor was right in front of his cell, when he tasted blood and gall. He fell forward on the floor, and a storm of memories raced through his mind. His muscles gave out, and he couldn't move from where he'd fallen. The joy sucked from the last of them - a girl defending him in court. The only untainted memory he'd had left. He'd never known her name, but now he forgot her face. He forgot her words. He forgot her trust. He forgot her faith in him. He could feel the pain from his humiliation, exclusion and betrayal flowing through him, bounce against the dementor, and come back in double strength. It doubled again. Again and again. Then he lost consciousness, and saw.

There was a scurrying. A sound like a dog digging in dirt. And a vague, excited little voice.

"Masta is here!"

More excited noises. The sounds increased. He tried to blink his eyes, but they were too heavy. Then, through a thick haze, he saw a sliver of light, but unfocused. Where were his glasses? He tried to move an arm to feel around, but something stopped him physically from raising it. Whatever it was, it felt smooth.

Suddenly, it seemed like a thick glass panel was shoved away from above him. He felt as if he was lying on his back.

"Masta!"

Whatever this creature was, it didn't believe in being quiet, and Harry had a massive headache.

"Move!"

A different voice. It sounded… older. Then another blob of color came into view.

"Very good. We have a new Overlord. Let's give him some energy to get him going. Flibbles!"

"For tha Masta?"

"Yes, Flibbles, for the Master. Now get over here!"

A different blob came into view, and suddenly changed shape. It started giving light, and its brownish-co or got a reddish hue.

"This'll make you feel better, Master." The older voice again.

Then the reddish light source approached Harry, until he felt it enter his chest. A sudden, hot warmth spread throughout his body, and he could feel it rebuild his muscles and fortify his strength. His eyes snapped into focus, and he jumped to his feet.

He seemed to be in a cave of some sort. Around him were several brown humanoid creatures that reminded him somewhat of Dobby. They were short and slightly hunched over. They reached about halfway to his upper legs. All but one were clothed in what amounted to little more than a loincloth, while being equipped with clubs. The last one had what looked like a robe of patchwork while being unarmed. It also seemed a lot older, having wisps of white hair. Then again, the others all seemed hairless. All of them had yellow, huge eyes. Their mouths were filled with sharp teeth. Wait… halfway up his legs? He looked at himself. He still looked like Harry Potter all right, but… also not. He seemed adult. The ground was definitely further away from him than he was used to. His arms and legs seemed well-nourished for a change, though covered in strange, blue runes. He looked at the oldest… thing.

"Welcome to us, Master. I am Gnarl, Master of Minions. Now I know this is all new to you. You are our Overlord. This means that we are bound to do your will while you conquer the lands and force them to your service."

"How did you take me here?"

And from where? For the life of him, Harry couldn't remember.

"Our previous Overlord died. Us minions, we could feel it. But our old Master's soul passed on instead of returning for resurrection. So we conducted the Ritual of the Master, which searches all worlds for a suitable Overlord to rule us."

"So you pulled me out of my world, on which as far as I know I could have been having a grand old time, to do whatever here?" For some reason, Harry felt like he hadn't been having a grand old time. That was strange, since he'd been at Hogwarts, a school of magic. Why would anyone have a bad time there? Oh, wait. The trial and Azkaban. Perhaps this unfamiliar world wasn't such a poor option. He didn't have any friends or anything left in his own world, anyway.

"Of course, Master. Because the Overlord needs his minions, just like the minions need an Overlord. It is the way things are."

"Very well. Now, show me what I am Lord over."