Disclaimer: I own nothing of the Harry Potter characters.

The Weapon

Prologue

I am a weapon.

That's it. That's all. I deluded myself once that I was more than that, but that was all an illusion; a simple childhood daydream. It was a fantasy, a dream from which I was rudely awakened shortly after I turned seventeen years old.

I'd like to be able to blame everyone else for the way things turned out, but , in reality, I suppose I am as much to blame as everyone else that had a hand in my development, or should I say tempering. That is, after all, the process by which a sword is honed to razor sharpness; tempering.

I used to long for anonymity. I hated when people would point and stare at me. The way their eyes would drift up to the telltale scar on my forehead whenever they'd meet me for the first time. Reporters would hound my every footstep, clamoring for some bit of trivial insight that they could turn into another great fabrication or scandal about the "boy who lived".

Later, a few years later; some people would point and stare at my passing, but most would whisper nervously under their breath, or scramble to get out of the area, wherever I just happened to be at the moment. I use to dream of being left alone. I'm not so sure about that anymore. I never imagined that it would entail everyone being afraid of me. They needn't be, of course, I'm not a danger to any decent witch or wizard. The truth be told, I wouldn't hurt anyone unless I had no other option. Strange talk for a weapon, I know. I mean, a weapon doesn't really consider the morality of the destruction it causes which is in essence, its sole purpose for being.

I would be lying, however, if I didn't add the fact that there are a few individuals out there whom I owe a debt of misery to, and I always pay my debts.

I spend my life alone now. It's better this way really, though it does get awfully lonely at times.

Sigh… No life is perfect.

How did I get this way, you might ask? It was easy, really. Start off by being born on the wrong day. Follow that with being raised by people that despise you for being born, period. Thirdly, put all of your trust in the wrong people, which, of course, leads to having your heart broken.

After that, all you have to do is rebel against the injustice of it all and you'll finally find out what people really think of you

In my case, I'm thought a weapon. Not just any weapon, mind you. I have the distinction of being and I quote: "Our number one weapon against Voldemort."

Those words changed everything. Those words made me realize that I wasn't a person, but a thing. Hopes and dreams for a future of family and happiness are for people, not things. People create people,.. families.

Weapons don't create, they destroy.

I had a name once, now people have taken to calling me "one". It's short for 'number one', as in "Number One Weapon".

I wish I had my name back. I wish a lot of things.

Present Day

Feet pounded down the sandy beach, occasionally relishing the feel of the surf as is splashed across his toes and threw a cooling misted over his sun baked flesh. It was hot today. It was hot every day; such a contrast to the moody weather of England. He did miss snow, especially at Christmas time. The annual snowball fights at the Weasley's were the best, but that was another time, another life.

Harry finished his daily 6.83 km jog in good time. 6.83 km is the exact circumference of his little island home. He'd purchased the South Sea Island through a multitude of 'dummy corporations' to protect his identity. The island was unplottable, had ample drinking water and rich supply of fruit bearing trees and other edible foliage. Best of all,.. it was his and his alone.

His choice of an island home was ideal for another reason in that, it was within his apparation range of a larger, more heavily populated group of islands. The key element here was being: his range of apparation. Harry doubted there was any wizard living that could apparate the distance to his island home from the next closest island, some 1200 km away. Dumbledore might technically be able to, if not for the fact that Harry had specifically keyed his wards to repel Dumbeldore's magical signature. This was most probably a needless precaution as the island was unplottable, but Harry had learned the hard way that one could never be overly cautious, especially when dealing with Albus Dumbledore.

Harry's thoughts of this wizard were prompted by the appearance of his familiar, Fawkes, the Phoenix who was currently perched regally upon the railing of the stair that led up to Harry's smallish home.

To say that he and his former mentor had had a falling out, would be quite an understatement; to say the least. Harry now reviled the elder wizard as much, or even more so, than his hated remaining relations, the Dursley's. Dumbledore had never abused him as the Dursley's had. He hadn't beaten and imprisoned him in the cupboard under the stairs the way his uncle had. Dumbledore had merely turned a blind eye to the knowledge of Harry's beatings and imprisonment.

Dumbledore had never starved or belittled him the way his Aunt Petunia did, nor tormented him mercilessly the way his hated cousin, Dudley, had. No, if anything, Dumbledore had always been exceedingly kind to Harry. In retrospect, Harry now realized that Dumbledore's "kindness" was of the variety that was reserved for a favored pet. Harry had been imprisoned in a gilded cage. Well fed, watered, provided a few creature comforts and even taught a few tricks for which he was praised; all this gave the recipient the false impression that he mattered and was a cherished part of the family.

What Dumbledore had done that set him apart from all others in the depth of Harry's loathing was that he had used Harry. Dumbledore had manipulated Harry as utterly and unconscionably as one could possibly use another human being. Voldemort he could understand, but Dumbledore...?

Voldemort was mad and twisted in his fetish for garnishing absolute power over others. Dumbledore, on the other hand, gave the semblance of the benign benefactor, when in actuality, he was the master puppeteer. He pulled everyone's strings and had them dancing to his tune. In Harry's particular case, he had risen, or should I say sunk, to an all time low. Voldemort had unconsciously provided Dumbledore with the means to work his will, and work it he did… through Harry's misfortune.

Harry Potter looked down with contempt at Dumbledore's familiar; the Phoenix named, Fawkes, as he approached the entrance to his home. The Phoenix began to trill softly as Harry warily approached. A sealed parchment with his name was held within the bird's beak. When Harry drew within a few feet, Fawkes thrust the note forward, expecting Harry to unthinkingly just accept the proffered message. Harry, for his part, was not the least interested in receiving any correspondence, especially from Albus Dumbledore.

Harry crossed his arms across over his sweat glistening, bare chest and stared menacingly at the phoenix.

"Not interested." he intoned darkly.

Fawkes trilled soothingly and stretched the note toward Harry, undaunted by the recipient's cool reception.

"As I said: Not Interested." Harry repeated loudly with the beginnings of his irritation showing in his reply.

He schooled himself and continued more congenially. "Look ,Fawkes, I'm sorry that you came all this way for nothing and I'd like to at least offer you some food and water before you make the long journey back. I do, after all, owe you a debt of gratitude for having rescued me in the 'Chamber of Secrets'. I hope to repay your kindness one day, but, for your master, I owe only my utmost contempt. Let me get you something nourishing. Once refreshed, please leave and tell your master to never seek me out again."

Harry proceeded around the Phoenix and mounted the few short stairs to his porch.

With an indignant "Squawk" of displeasure, Fawkes flashed in front of him and hovered in the doorway to his home, blocking his entry.

"Move" Harry commanded, but the phoenix ignored him and trilled in agitation.

"Fine." Harry harrumphed. "If I take the damn note will you leave me in peace?"

Fawkes trilled brightly and Harry took this as acceptance of his terms as he held out his open palm for the phoenix to drop the note into.

As soon as the note fell into his palm, Fawkes disappeared in a flash of fire, just as Harry felt an all too familiar pull behind his navel as the disguised note/port key activated.

"Bloody...ing..Hel-ll…!" Harry's angry epitaph drifted away into the nether as he felt himself pulled unyieldingly through space.

England

Fawkes arrived with a burst of fire in the Minister of Magic's office.

"Has he accepted the note then?" The minister asked.

Fawkes trilled softly by way of affirmation.

"Excellent. Most excellent indeed."The minister hurriedly scribbled out a note and thrust it into the waiting phoenix's beak as he said. " ortunately your mode of travel is much faster than a portkey , but still we have little time to spare. Take this note to James Marquist with all haste. We've no time to waste if we're to see this thing done right."

Fawkes trilled his understanding and with a burst of flame he departed the Minister's office.

The minister rose from his desk and grabbed his cloak as he called for his secretary.
"Miss Weasley?"

Penelope Weasley stepped quickly into the office and asked."Yes, Minister?"

"Miss Weasley, I have urgent business to attend to and may be out of the office for a few days. Please alert Senior Secretary Arthur Weasley that he is in charge during my absence. Tell him that I will send Fawkes in a day or two, but will be out of contact until then."

"Yes, minister." Penny replied politely as she wrote down the minister's orders. "Will that be all, sir."

"Yes, thank you, my dear." the minister replied as he stepped to the private apparation point he's had installed in his office when his term began. With a small "Pop" of displaced air, the minister disappeared from the office and Penny Weasley went to notify her Father in-law of the Minister's departure.

Azkaban Island

A small "pop" heralded the minister's arrival at Warden Marguist office.

"Ah, Minister. It's good to see you. Your phoenix arrived only moments ago, but I can assure that the holding cell you requested is in complete readiness."

James Marquist was a strapping blonde headed thirtyish year old fellow with a wife and two young sons at home. He'd served as lead Auror on many cases both during the last war and the beginnings of the reign of terror that followed two years later. He'd proven himself a valuable asset as an Auror and a capable administrator after his appointment as Warden of Azkaban Prison.

The minister stepped forward and grasped the Warden's outstretched hand, with a grip that surprised the Warden as he asked in reassurance. "The magic dampening fields have been activated?"

"Of course, Minister, and as per your request, they have been set at their maximum setting. " the warden confirmed before adding incredulously. "Though why the dampening fields should be set at so high and risky a setting I should like to know? Voldemort, himself, could easily be held at half that power with less risk of incurring bodily harm, or risking a power surge that might very well result in a powerful magical blowback."

The minister's visage turned grim. "We would most probably only need to set the dampening fields at fifty percent, if it were Voldemort we were expecting."

"What?" the warden blurted in stunned disbelief. "If it's not Voldemort then what other prisoner could require such precautions?"

A haunted expression ghosted across the minister's face before he answered. "The person that will be soon arriving in holding cell-one, is not a prisoner and is to be treated with the utmost dignity and respect, however, certain,.. er.. precautions must be in place if we are to be able to safely negotiate with said individual."

The minister held forth a sealed parchment that the Warden accepted hesitantly.

"You will read the contents of the proclamation the,. er.. guest in holding cell-one, after his arrival. You are not to answer any questions he may put to you, nor are his guards ,.. ah... attendants," he amended, continuing…" to offer any communication of any sort. Is that understood?"

"Y-Yes, but who..?" the warden began to ask before the minister cut him off abruptly, ignoring his questions.

"Once said resident of cell-one has agreed to the terms of the proclamation by taking an unbreakable vow, then, and only then, may he be released and escorted the Ministry for further instructions. Is that also clear, Warden Marquist?"

"O-Of course, Minister, but who is it that we are expecting today?"

The Minister looked at the warden with pained, even remorseful eyes that told a story all of their own.

The Warden's face paled in sudden understanding. "No,.. surely not… him?"

The Minister turned on his heals and returned to the office's apparation point.

He called over his shoulder as he left. "You have your orders, Warden,.. see that they're carried out, and to the letter."

Warden James Marquist stood in disbelief staring at the sealed parchment in hand as the Minister apparated from his office.

Before the Warden could return to his desk and pour himself a nerve steadying drink, from the bottle of fire whiskey he kept hidden in his bottom desk's bottom drawer, alarms around the prison began clanging. A new high security prisoner had arrived in one of the prisons custom design holding cells, of which, cell one was design to be impenetrable.

Chapter One: Welcome to Hell

Cell-One

With a loud "Pop" , Harry Potter arrived at the port key's destination. He immediately called on his magic and conjured a full armor shield.

"Urghh!" Harry grunted in pain as he found himself suddenly on his knees gasping for breath.

A dampening field, it had to be.

He fought down the panic that threatened to engulf him and set his mind to the formidable task of breaking through the cell's defenses and regaining his freedom.

Some smart young wizard had taken the theory behind the dampening fields used in an auror's hand cuffs and augmented it to provide coverage for an entire cell. The cell had to be cylindrical in design as the dampening waves were difficult to generate and required a great deal of power. The cylindrical design of the cell allowed the dampening waves to rebound, or feedback, upon themselves so that they were in constant flux with their captive's magical signature.

The only way to overcome a dampening field was to overload it, but the trick here is that it required an extremely powerful witch or wizard to be able to generate enough energy over a long enough period, to overload the system. That in and of itself was nigh impossible, especially coupled with the fact that any resistance to the dampening field by use of one's magic, resulted in increasing pain for the spell's castor. The greater the resistance- the greater the pain.

Harry had no intention of remaining a prisoner and began to gather his considerable magic from the core of his being. He was approaching critical mass when a voice called down from the open ceiling above. Startled from his course, he looked up to see a rather nervous looking, stocky blonde in his mid thirties, looking down at him from the guard rail as he intoned in a halting, anxious voice.

"H- Harry James P-Potter; You are herby commanded to return to active service in the Ministry of Magic's Unspeakable Corp. Y-You are hereby promoted from your previous rank of Captain to that of Commander,"

The man paused briefly in response to Harry's snicker of disgust. "If I'm a full Commander, then by rights I can set any prisoner free at any time. If that's the case than I hereby demand my immediate release."

"I am s-sorry, sir. There are additional provisions I am required to make you aware of and I am required to obtain your vow of adherence to the items contained therein prior to your receiving said commission." The man responded in what sounded as sincere regret.

"Who are you?" Harry asked bluntly. A little extra information never hurt.

"I- I'm James Marquist , Warden of Azkaban Prison. I'm deeply honored to make your acquaintance, Mr. Potter. My children always insist upon hearing some story of your heroic deeds at their bedtime. The man finished in an awed voice.

"Really? Well than you can go home tonight and tell them all about how their daddy locked up their supposed "hero" without any trial, let alone legal representation." Harry sneered in contempt.

"P-Please, Mr. Potter. This is only a temporary precaution. The Minister himself assures me that you will be released immediately once you have accepted what appears to be a rather generous offer." the warden answered in a placating tone.

"I'm well acquainted with the Ministry's notion of generosity. They were more than generous when they locked up my Godfather, Sirius Black, for twelve years without a trial. They were indeed, "generous", when they acknowledged they'd made a mistake, 'course he was already dead by then. Ironically, he was killed at the Ministry, trying to defend the very institution that wrongfully robbed him of his freedom and livelihood."

"I'I m sorry, Mr. Potter, truly I am." the man stammered sincerely. "I-I d-don't like this, sir, not one bit ,but, I have my orders. Please, sir, just let me finish the Ministry's proposal?" the man all but begged.

"Do as you must." Harry replied in grim resignation.

"Ah,.. let's see, where was I... oh, yes.. Your salary shall be commensurate with your rank and you are entitled to all honors and privileges as accorded to someone of your high rank and stature under international law. You are ordered to proceed in all haste to either apprehend or eliminate the dark wizard known as Voldemort. Once Voldemort is apprehended, or confirmed as dead, or if you yourself are injured beyond your ability to perform your duties, and or, dead; you are then relieved of all further responsibilities in this matter."

"You're right," Harry quipped. "Very generous indeed."

The warden paused for a moment before finishing. "This proclamation is set forth by the approval of the Minister of Magic, in conjunction with Madam Amanda Bones- Chief Mugwump of the Wizenmagot and set forth into law by unanimous order of the International Confederation of Wizards, Harold Pridemore presiding as Chief Justice.

Acceptance of these terms will be acknowledged by the party having made an unbreakable vow. The taking of said vow will demonstrate the party's full acceptance of these terms and their commitment to see justice done."

"Ha- Ha- Ha!" Harry laughed uproariously in response that last.

"Er, excuse me, Mr. Potter, but what's so funny about being offered a commission to the rank of Commander within the Unspeakable corp? Many wizards spend a life time just trying to make it into the corp, let alone rise to the rank of full command." The warden asked incredulously.

Harry reigned in his already flagging temper and sighed in complete disgust before he enlightened the naive man.

"What's funny? What isn't funny about this whole thing? Hmm,.. let me see now? Well, the first thing that comes to mind is that I'm wrongfully kidnapped and imprisoned by the very institution that just happens to require my services. Has it slipped your notice that I'm standing here in naught but a pair of running shorts in one of your most luxurious accommodations?" Harry asked sarcastically before continuing to outline the outrageousness of this situation.

"Secondly, let's not forget the services themselves; said organization requires me to track down and either apprehend, or eliminate that swine, Voldemort. I can only assume that he has escaped from this distinguished institution and is wreaking his particular brand of havoc upon the population at large?"

" Er,.. ah,.. yes. V-voldemort escaped from this prison approximately 14 mos. ago,.. but that was under the previous Warden's tour of duty. There has never been an escape since I became warden." the man amended proudly, ignoring the Minister's express warning and continuing to engage Potter in conversation.

"You'll forgive me if I'm not up for cheering just now. " Harry remarked dryly.

"I all ready, er,.. "apprehended", that vermin once before and.."

"He was apprehended by Albus Dumbledore." The warden corrected, interrupting him.

"Was. he... now?" Harry asked in false surprise. "You were there,.. were you. Saw Dumbledork take the snake down himself, did you? Harry sneered knowingly.

"Well, er.. no, but it was in all the papers. Dumbledore received a second Order of Merlin- First Class for the capture of V-Voldemort. He was even…"the warden caught himself before revealing information he was forbidden to divulge.

"He was even what?" Harry asked suspiciously.

"I, er,.. well th-those events are rather common knowledge. I was going to say he even showed Voldemort leniency and only gave him a life sentence rather than condemn him to a Dementor's kiss." The Warden grinned in appreciation of his quickly improvised recovery.

The Minister had specifically warned him about the dangers of giving Harry Potter too much information before obtaining his unbreakable vow. Harry was not to know the Minister's identity till after his vow was obtained- not under any circumstances!

Harry had his own agenda, and his own growing more suspicious by the second.

"I don't seem to recall you having read the identity of the current Minister of Magic in that proclamation you just read? Could you please re-read that bit of information for me? he asked innocently.

The Warden gulped nervously as he attempted to avoid Harry's inquiry and fulfill his duties, "A-Are you ready to make an unbreakable vow and accept your commission, then?"

Harry smiled a cold knowing smile and began to draw his magic forth as he stated flatly."No"

"W-What? You're not seriously turning down a Command in the Unspeakables?" the man spouted flabbergasted.

"I've already been an honorary officer in the Unspeakables, thank you. I've already been a prisoner as well,.. thank you. I find neither option to my liking." his voice grew in resonance as he pulled more and more of his power from his immense magical core. He intended to break through the dampening field or kill himself in the process. No other option was acceptable.

"I reject the,.. er.. what did you call it? Ah.. yes, " generous offer". I will not subjugate myself to a life of indentured service. I will not be the Ministry's Weapon!" Harry shouted before adding in a cold hiss. "I am a man, not a thing to be used and discarded once it has served its purpose."

"Mr. Potter, please. If you don't accept the commission than I fear the Wizenmagot will find you in contempt of their court order and will order you held indefinitely. Please, sir? People revere you. Don't let this be the chapter by which they remember your story." The warden pleaded for him to reconsider.

Dumbledore had chosen the right man for the job. James Marquist was a believer, a blind one, but a believer just the same. Harry thought bitterly.

"By any chance is dear old Albus Dumbledore, your present Minister of Magic? " Harry asked in a snide, oily voice.

An uncomfortable moment's pause answered his question for him.

"You needn't answer." Harry ground out as he pulled the last vestiges of his power from his magical core.

"Your silence was all the answer I required to glean the truth.. Harry seethed in rage as he spat out thunderously:

"Tell that- LYING, MANIPULATIVE, SELF SERVING, COWARDLY, OLD BASTARD-DUMBLEDORE, ... I WARNED HIM TO NEVER INTERFERE IN MY LIFE- AGAIN! You tell your precious Minister that this time he's gone too far. I'm coming for him and... ALL HELL'S COMING WITH ME! Harry bellowed out as burst of pure magic exploded from his body and into the surrounding dampening field.

The dampening field hissed and crackled , throwing off bolts of raw ambient power as it struggled to contain the onslaught of immense magical power that Harry was throwing against it.

Harry bit down on the pain that was coursing through his body as he resisted the dampening field's backlash.

It was worse than the torture curse. Every nerve in his body felt like it was on fire. His back arched and his hands pulled at his hair as he fought to maintain his sanity against the horrific pain that coursed through his body. Despite the blinding agony, he threw more and more of his magic into the assault and the pain resulting from the backlash intensified exponentially with every nuance of additional power he brought to bear.

James Marquist voice was all but drowned out, by the static crackling of power that coursed through the air, as he screamed a plea for Harry to desist.

A bolt of pure magically energy streaked past and obliterated a nearby vent shaft, sending the warden scrambling for cover in fear of his life.

An unearthly, echoing scream of utter torment wafted from the cell below as Harry lost his fight to control his agony, but not his will to persevere as he poured more and more of himself against the constraints of the dampening field.

What little color was left in the Warden's cheeks drained away as the man fought down the bile that rose in his throat. He knew then with all certainty that the stories were true: Harry Potter never gave up,.. never surrendered,.. never backed down. No coward would submit himself to that kind of pain. Only a man of intense honor and integrity would throw himself against such incomprehensible anguish to accomplish his goal. If all the stories of Harry Potter's valor were true, not just rumor or fairytale, then what of the other rumors? What of the stories that had circled about Dumbledore having used and taken credit for Harry's noble deeds. What was the truth,.. the whole truth?

Harry's screams rose to a deafening crescendo as he continued to throw his magic into the fray, heedless of the pain he reaped upon himself.

Marquist crawled to his office as bolts of energy ricocheted over head.

This was utter madness. Either Harry Potter was going to kill himself in the attempt or the dampening field would fall. Either, or perhaps both, was a certainty.

Harry Potter's screams confirmed the warden's worst fears and yet,.. lightened his heart.

Harry Potter never gave up,.. never surrendered,.. never backed down.