Birth of a Nightmare Man

Chapter One

Voldemort was dead. Celebrations were held all over Britain. The Dark Lord had been defeated! They hailed people fighting in the final battle as heroes. And of course, the greatest hero of them all; Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, the great headmaster of Hogwarts, Order of Merlin First Class, the Supreme Mugwump and the Chief Warlock. He had defeated not one but two Dark Lords in one century, and he took it with grace. He spoke warmly of his allies, and wished for a long, peaceful time now when the war with the dark side of magic was finally over.

Only he wasn't the hero. The one who had actually killed Voldemort, saving people from a lot of misery, was a person whose name was not spoken of at all. Harry James Potter was the Prophecy Child but was declared the next Dark Lord within the first two hours of his final defeat of Voldemort and therefore, as the celebrations took place, he was in a cell at Azkaban.

Harry was glad he still had most of his priced possessions on his person, that he hadn't let Hermione hang onto them but he couldn't use any of them. His wand was gone, the map was useless here and his broom couldn't get him through the thick steel bars. He couldn't use any wandless magic either, thick chains around him preventing the use of magic. He pulled his robe closer against the cold that seemed to seep from the walls itself.

He didn't understand why he was there. Albus Dumbledore had always supported Harry, always been behind him and ready to step in and aid when he needed help but now that same man had declared Harry Potter insane, and evil. He had pointed at Harry and said he was the next Dark Lord.

Why would he do something like that? Did he wish to take the fame for himself? Albus didn't have to throw Harry into prison for that; he would've given the man that and settled down somewhere far away from people.

Harry heard surviving Death Eaters screaming in their cells; at him, at nothing, at the dark that closed up around them. He didn't speak. There was nothing to say to them, but he was sure their screams would drive him mad. There was no way anyone could hold him here without a trial, like they had done to Sirius.

Or could they? From what Harry had seen, the public worshipped Albus Dumbledore as if the sun rose from his arse. They would listen to what he said, and what he had said earlier was enough for Harry.

He wasn't insane. He wasn't evil. But if Albus Dumbledore wanted the rest of the world to think that, he only needed to say it. Could he really be so cruel? Harry choked back a sob and buried his face in his arms. Were all those kind words a lie? How could a man lie so smoothly, how could he look like he cared?

Had he even done the right thing, killing Voldemort? The man was insane yes, but… Harry felt tears soak his robe and clenched his teeth.

People outside, free people, celebrated the death of a tyrant. Harry James Potter was beginning to regret that he was the one who actually killed that tyrant.

-o-

Albus Dumbledore sat in his office, having declined the post as the new Minister by saying he belonged at Hogwarts as long as the staff would have him. They were all thrilled to have him stay.

He looked over a photo, a young Harry James Potter and sighed. It was a sad fate for the last of the Potters. Albus had calculated that Harry would die fighting Voldemort, and the final blow to Voldemort would be dealt by Albus himself. But Harry hadn't died, and it was too much of a risk to let him remain free. That didn't mean he wanted Harry to be where he was now, this young child he had watched grow up into a young man.

"Oh, Fawkes…" he said, leaning back and looking at his Phoenix. "Harry should have been at peace now, with his parents and their friends. Not in a cell at Azkaban."