A/N: So this is officially my second story. NOT MPREG. Maybe later on but so far it is NOT. I haven't written one like this before, so I will enjoy branching out into the Harry Potter universe. I will also be using this as my NaNoWriMo. For this reason I WILL NOT BE EDITING. I simply don't have the time to go back an edit each chapter. If anyone wants to take the time to beta my story after I post it then please do and send it back to me via DOCX.

Because this is a NaNoWriMo, I will probably be updated at least a chapter a day. It's something I've never endeavored to do before so I'm sorry if I screw up.

Summary- 2011 NaNoWriMo Harry was betrayed and left to rot in the darkest corners of Azkaban biding his time as Voldmort rose to power. But a far darker and more powerful threat approaches that even the Dark Lord can not defeat, the world looks to harry for answers. A twist on the usual Azkaban fic. Probably VoldemortXHarry.

Dark Intentions

VanityIre

Chapter One

Released

Though Azkaban was put to good use after the breakout of '95 it still paled in comparison to its former glory. For one, dementors no longer combed the halls outside each cell block feeding off the terror of it's residents. Most cells measured eleven and a half by eleven and a half feet and were bare inside except for a plank bed and a chamber pot. Remnants of the British wizarding world's refusal to move on into the future. In place of dementors, Azkaban was guarded by demoralized, ruthless, Aurors. They looked upon the inhabitants of each cell with disgusted disdain. It wouldn't surprise Kingsley if the prisoners endured beatings on a regular basis. He hardly cared because, though he looked down on such blatant disregard of human life, a small part of his being took sadistic enjoyment in knowing that the prisoners suffered for their past transgressions. They might as well have all deserved it, all except one that is. The prisoner he was intending to see today. One man who truly did not deserve what was done to him, a man he himself had betrayed. One Harry James Potter.

Hodgkins, the guard on level 3 the top security level, led him deeper into the winding maze of Azkaban's tilting tower; Kingsley took note of how each cell and it's inhabitants seemed to become more dirtied and disgusting. The further they went the darker the prisoners skin seemed to become, and he knew it had nothing to do with the color of their skin. Their brown dirt covered faces contrasted the wide white pupils of their eyes. And the further they went the closer Kingsley was sure they were to their destination. As the air shrink from stink, to sickly stagnant he was sure they had arrived.

"Cell 387," Hodgkins clipped, his voice laced with obvious contempt. The cell if one could call it that was a large cast iron door equipped with a small slot at eye level and a tiny metal flap at the bottom.

Kingsley swallowed, already knowing that he would need to drink himself under the table later that night to assuage the guilt that started clawing at his conscious by just standing there.

Hodgkins kicked the door with a metal tipped boot after peering through the slit. "Up you get Potter," Hodgkins sneered the last name out as if it were a sin to even think it.

Kinglsey wasn't surprised by the contempt Hodgkins showed prisoner 387. Azkaban was run by Deatheaters after all. Not that his department hadn't tried to wheedle a few good Aurors into the mix, but in the hierarchy that became the Ministry after Voldemort rose to power it would be tough find to anyone not a Deatheater in high, low or even mandatory positions. Kingsley had held onto his own seat by merely a breadth of hair after being found out as a former Order of the Phoenix member eight years ago.

The Deatheeater reached to his side, his bony fingers wiggling before procuring a ring from his belt that clipped one single key. He merely brushed it over the door before pushing the iron barrier to the side. Hodgkins bared his teeth at the pile of blankets that were heaped on the plank bed to the left wall of the cell. "In ya get Shacklebolt, he's that useless pile of rags there," He spoke.

"Aren't you going to cuff him?" Kingsley asked positive protocol hadn't changed that much since the last time he visited the prison.

Hodgkins seemed more amused by the question than he ought to have been. "I brought ya this far, but 'm not about to risk life and limb to detain that one. A wild card he is."

Kingsley, have yet to enter the cell questioned the Deatheater guard.

"Has a spark in 'im. Tends to bite the hands that feed him, the little bastard. In the beginin' he'd clawed the eye's of whoeve'd he come 'cross. Had to be seperated from he other prisoners and jailed in solitary for protection."

Kinsgley doubted it was for protection of the other prisoners anf guards.

Kingsley lifted a dark bushy eyebrow. "Can't handle a small untrained wizard? Or is it more likely the Death-Aurors stationed here might need to be dispatched back to basic training. It shouldn't take much to detain a a boy half your height."

Hodgkins snorted though Kingsley had been quite serious. Then again none of the Deatheaters in the Auror ranks held much respect fro his position. He'd have to prove himself tough hearted by following through.

"Big ol' Frank Jesper thought the same thing till that little beast bit his ear clear off one night, took three weeks to regrow another one and tha' was with the help of Saint Mongo's best healers. In fact ever since tha' Potters been taking all of his meals."

Kingsley not wanting to hear more, or wanting to imagine how Harry had managed to get close enough to even reach another persons ear, decided forgoing any more communication with the Deatheater cockroach was his safest bet. He steeled himself for the inevitable and entered the cell as Hogdkins watched from the entrance. With sadistic glee. The only entrance Kingsley realized, noting not a single window in the black grimed covered cell.

He stood before the bed unmoving and unsure how to approach the one occupant without setting him off in a frenzy like Hodgkin warned him of.

"Kingsley Shacklebolt, Head Auror," the dirtied rag spoke in a surprisingly sultry tone. "To what do I owe the honor of your current visit?" Harry questioned.

Kingsley swallowed, unsure how Harry was able to see him through crusty and torn bed covering that surrounded him. He felt more out of place in the last six seconds than he had his entire adult life. And as the head of the law enforcement department for the last ten years that could be considered an accomplishment.

A deep almost penetrating silence encompassed the cell, so eerie it was Kingsley didn't want to break it. However, for lack of time he stood straighter and spoke with the confidence he mustered from his long years as an adult. "Prisoner 387, also known as Harry J. Potter you are hence forth released of your life sentence and ordered to appear before the Wizengamot Council to bare retrial and future sentencing for your crimes against Our Lord Voldemort." He said as formally as possible. It was all protocol after all, and if he happened to spit out the 'Our Lord Voldemort' part, then oh well. "You are asked to accompany me quietly, with yourself in my presence at all time until we reach the ministry. There you will be turned over to a lawyer appointed by the head of the Wizengamot Lucius Malfoy."

The dirty rags stayed quiet for a moment, and Kingsley couldn't help but think on Hodgkins who still stood behind him watching the proceedings with a slight bit of shock at the speech. After all Harry Potter had been sentenced and imprisoned in Azkaban for ten years thus far, and had another four-hundred more years to live out that sentence. At least that was until Kinglsey had received an appearance from the Dark Lord himself requesting he undertake a peculiar assignment.

Then his mind drifted to the warning the Deatheater had given him before entering the cell. Kingsley fearing Harry may react with violence slowly reached for his wand that was holstered to his waist.

The rags shifted and Harry Potter finally emerged from the cocoon he had made of them. And nothing could have shocked or mortified Kingsley more than the appearance of the former savior. Gone was the gangly, knobly, and tinly put together teenager he had helped imprison a decade ago, and in his place was a bedraggled stranger. The skin was covered in oil and grime, the hair was a true nest probably inhabited by hundreds of crawlers. The man's cheeks were hollowed and sunk in. The only resemblance of Harry's former self were his large emerald almond-shaped eyes. And remarkably, instead of the dulled cast that most prisoners of Azkaban sported in their listless eye, Harry's sparked with an emotion that made Kingsley both rejoice and shudder in shame and a small amount of terror.

He rejoiced because despite all odd stacked against him Harry still retained some life in him. He bulked for he could see, just lurking under the surface was something wild and untamed.

"I wonder," Harry spoke at last, once again surprising Kingsley with his smooth tenor, "will you be handcuffing me Shacklebolt? Will I be dragged across your luxurious new ministry in bindings to prove the world I still am their sacrifice." It was spoken with such ease, that if Kingsley wasn't looking at him he would have thought Harry couldn't have cared either way. However, those killer green eyes were telling.

In any other case Kingsley was suppose to handcuff any Azkaban prisoner coming or leaving ...

"I don't see a reason to do so, if you agree to accompany me freely."

Harry looked at him through the fringe of his rat-nest hair, "I have no intentions of being a terror this evening," Harry told him. Kingsley wondered how the other knew if was evening without being able to see the light of day fading. "Provided you do me one favor of course."

Kingsley hadn't quite jumped at the opportunity to get in the others good graces but he definitely was not inclined to turn the man down. Though the narrowed eyes and curl of his lip told Kingsley no amount of small favors would be able to let slip his past betrayals.

Then with a put upon air Harry finally stood slowly letting the blankets fall away from his most likely haggard form.

Kingsley gasped at what he saw under it.

The sight of the bony limbs and thin frame was sickly enough to turn even a hardened Auror slightly green, it was the small bundle nestled in the crook of Harry's arms that caused his alarming intake of breath.

"This child," Harry announced squeezing the sleeping babe closer to his person "will need accommodations for travel."

Gasp, how did a baby get into Azkaban? I guess you'll have to read more to find out. Plus I'm also not much of a review whore. If you want to review then please do so but I wont beg you to. Though if you guys have truly helpful ideas to help me for when my mind runs out of ideas as it does every NaNoWriMo then review or pm me.