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It just came up. I'll continue depending on the reviews.

Swip, swip, swip, swip…

He could hear wave crashing endlessly against rock, once upon a time, when he was still someone new to this place.

…swip, swip, swip, swip…

And the wind used to howl and at batter the cold granite walls.

…swip, swip, swip, swip…

The sky was shades of grey through the glassless barred window. Sometimes flashes of bright lightning would snake across the clouds, letting loose their roars of thunder.

…swip, swip, swip, swip…

Rain pattered every so often, the wild wind sending it in through the little window to wash the waste from his pale face.

…swip, swip, swip, swip…

He used to feel the cold biting into his skin, trying to drain his warmth, but even that had faded.

…swip, swip, swip, swip…

The boy sat against the cold granite wall on the cold granite floor, legs bent and braced loosely, as if he had just begun to loosen his legs from where they had been drawn to his chest. His arms were straight, dull iron bands encircled his wrists as they rested on each knee, suppressing his ability to spellcaste. His head was bent slightly back, bright grass green orbs staring into the distance. Long, wind-blown blackish hair hung in loose curing waves to the floor around him like a tattered cloak for what had once been his Hogwarts uniform, the black long since faded to grey and the red and gold to a dull brown; tattered and hanging to barely mid-thigh, his shoes long since gone.

…swip, swip, swip, swip…

The only movement in the room, but for the intake and expelling of breath, the occasional blinking of the glassy orbs and the gentle movement of his hair in the breeze, was the constant, monotonous swinging of the slender chain that twirled through the cold air in a shining silver circle, day in, day out, never stopping.

…swip, swip, swip, swip…

The outside world had long since faded for the boy. He didn't know his name. He didn't know why he was here. He couldn't see. He couldn't hear. He couldn't feel. He couldn't taste or smell.

…swip, swip, swip, swip…

His upper brain functions were so totally focused on two things that there was nothing else in his mind; no other thoughts or feelings, just a void of comforting darkness lit up by the two dancing lamps constant contemplation.

…swip, swip, swip, swip…

Just the continuous-

…swip, swip, swip, swip…

- of the silver chain and a song sung in a language he had no knowledge of. The song continued in an endless cycle, start to finish. He knew the name of the song.

…swip, swip, swip, swip…

It was called 'Dead Can Dance', sung by Summing of the Muse if he cared to recall. Someone, a tall horsy woman with blonde hair, used to play it while she drank her tea and thought while the boy had cleaned the house when he was quite small.

…swip, swip, swip, swip…

But he didn't remember that because he didn't remember at all. To remember one must think and that is something he had long since stopped doing to save himself.

…swip, swip, swip, swip…

This world he had created for himself was constant and repetitious and so engrossed with it was he that he never became bored because there was no room for boredom to exist.

…swip, swip, swip, swip…

There was just the spinning silver of the chain and the continuous, circling song. He felt no sorrow, no joy. Not anger nor hate nor fear. Happiness, love and hope were nowhere to be found. Time passed by without acknowledgment.

…swip, swip, swip, swip…

Just the song.

…swip, swip, swip, swip…

Just the silence.

…swip, swip, swip, swip…

Just the chain.

…swip, swip, swip, swip…

Clang. Svvffft. The stone door swung open. "Your time here has been served, Harry. You are free to leave Azkaban on the next boat tomorrow."

…swip, swip…swip……… swip…

The chain stilled as the music stopped.

The boy blinked and his mind began to branch out once more, making him aware of the world around him once more.

He turned to the door where the black-clad guard stood, his dark beard streaked with silver where it had once been merely black.

"Five years have passed?" Rasped the man who was once the boy.

"Five years have passed." Agreed the man solemnly, moving forward to help the man-who-was-once-the-boy stand. "You are free now."

The man-who-was-once-the-boy leaned forward and cried onto the Guard's shoulder.

The Guard let him.

Much obliged if you'd review.