Harry Potter, had been in prison for exactly two years. The days, weeks, months and now years were scratched on the wall with a stone, noting the passing days as a grim calendar. The young wizard had watched as his wand was snapped for defending his cousin against two Dementors, the demons that had almost sucked out his and Dudley's souls on the evening of the second of August 1995. Not that anyone believed there were any Dementors in Little Whining. He'd been arrested immediately, it was as if the Auror's had been waiting for him to do magic. Within two hours he'd been imprisoned in Azkaban. So like Hagrid's arrest in 1992. The Ministry must be seen to be doing something. Harry did not know if it was a short sentence or if it was for life. The normal sentence for underage magic was just expulsion from Hogwarts, not imprisonment. Harry had received no trial and had no idea of the terms and conditions of his custodial sentence. The Magical World had no right of trial, representation or adherence to Human Rights. A teenager kept in solitary confinement with no exercise or washing facilities, just an open drain in his cell for waste. It was barbaric. In his darkest moments, Harry often wished he'd gone to Stonewall and had never bothered with anything magical. He could almost empathize with Aunt Petunia's beliefs that they were all freaks. Judge a society on how they treated the poor, the young, the infirm and the helpless. Wizarding Britain were sadly lacking in any measure of a modern civilized society.

He'd not done so bad, everything considered. For some reason the Dementor's kept away from him. He'd been put in a cell in a disused corridor and left to rot. The room itself was not unlike his room at 4 Privet Drive; cold, damp and with no comforts, even the bars on the window and the lock on the door were like his former habitation. He was not alone. By some strange quirk of fate, Hedwig had flown to him and visited him in his cell, she ate the rats so they did not annoy him and could get through the bars of the high small window as she was a small bird. No rodent problem meant Harry had been spared flea and lice infestation. Dobby, the free house elf had left Hogwarts and joined him here in hell. The elf made sure Harry got his fair share of the bland prison food. The elf could not conjure in anything from the mainland because of the prison's wards. His only friend got him books and helped him keep up with his education. There was a prison library on the island, long fallen into disuse. Long ago education and self improvement had been standard for prisoner's welfare, but such liberal niceties had fallen by the wayside after the war with Grindelwald. Budget cuts and the lack of human guards meant the prisoners were tortured rather than treated like human beings. There was no rehabilitation expected, criminals came in and criminals went out.

Even with out of date textbooks, Harry read and practiced spells using a shaped bit of twig. The only thing he could not do practicals, so Herbology, Potions and Magical Creatures were theoretical only. He studied more than the standard curriculum. The elf brought a wide variety of books on all subjects, muggle and magical, even the Dark Arts, Rituals and Blood Rites. With nothing else to do, Harry became a book worm. He would have made Hermione proud, except he tried not to think about his so called friends, those who had neglected to write before his imprisonment and had left him to rot first in Surrey and now in the middle of the cold, bleak North Atlantic.

Over the last two years, Harry had grown from a scrawny boy to a thin, wiry young man. He was not lazy and did a variety of exercises to keep his body strong as possible. A healthy body and a healthy mind was a good motto to live by. He had learnt several important lessons. Patience and self improvement were the key. Self reliance a necessity and the fact despair and anger were altogether self destructive. Dobby brought occasional news of the outside world. Harry knew his days were numbered after the death of Albus Dumbledore. He wondered if he would be imprisoned forever or killed. No, they would not make a martyr of him. He wondered on the facts Dobby relayed, which stated Dumbledore's reputation was in ruins. The man exposed as a greedy thief bent on world domination and suspected murderer of his own sister.

...

It was Lucius Malfoy who came to release Harry Potter three days later. The boy no longer vilified but the truth of an innocent imprisoned by the corrupt previous regime in a conspiracy by Albus Dumbledore, Delores Umbridge and Cornelius Fudge. All now executed for their crimes. The impeccably dressed Lord was now Minister, he was accompanied by his undersecretary Percival Ignotius Weasley.

Harry stood as soon as he heard footsteps outside his cell. He pulled back the long matted hair from his face and scratched the thin stubble on his chin. He stepped back pressing himself against the wall as Lucius Malfoy entered. He waited for the dark green flash to signal his end but no curse came.

Lord Malfoy stood and observed the visibly afraid prisoner and bowed to one who was his equal. "Lord Potter. I am here to apologize for your illegal imprisonment and to offer the Ministry of Magic's humble apologies for the grievous injustice done to your person. As of today, the Sixth of August 1997, you are a free man with full wand rights and all privileges as Head of the Most Noble and Ancient House of Peverell, Potter and Black. I am here to escort you to St. Mungo's Hospital of Magical Maladies to assess your health. Your properties are being secured and your legacy restored to Gringott's as we speak."

The nuances of etiquette no longer a mystery to the well read youth. He bowed low, showing full respect to an elder. "Minister, I am totally ignorant of the reasons behind my imprisonment. I do not even know if my cousin was seriously harmed during the attack of those Dementor's , as he was not himself when I was arrested and I was not questioned, just incarcerated."

"Your family are well. Your aunt and a woman called Arabella Figg tried to get you justice. Most considered you a dangerous liar." Lucius had watched as a boy, the same age as his son had been thrown into prison for doing magic in the holidays. Most children did magic all the time. Potter's cousin was the only witness to the Patronus Charm and he was family. The offense did not even rate an official letter never mind imprisonment. The Chief Warlock himself had not helped the boy. Even after Delores Umbridge's confession of actually attempting to murder the boy last year printed in a full expose by Rita Skeeter last year, Harry Potter had not been released.

"I take it from your statement, my vaults had been emptied and the bequests of my parent's stolen from me."

Lucius watched the boy's calm demeanor. Any Gryffindor bravado and tendencies had not survived his imprisonment. "I'm afraid we have much to disclose and you need medical treatment. Rather than St. Mungo's, may I offer my home and my personal healer? My wife is your cousin after all."

Harry nodded briefly and acquiesced, as he was in no position to refuse anything at this point. He was probably going to be handed straight over to Voldemort, but that meant an end to the farce that was his life. He had made Dobby promise not to endanger himself and to look after Hedwig. Harry had no hope for his future, with the fall of Dumbledore and his own betrayal by the so called 'light', he was still a prisoner of the new regime as much he had been of the last.

"Come, we can floo from the Governor's office."

...

Harry lay on the finest bed he had ever seen. The Blue Suite of Rooms on the second Floor of the East Wing of Malfoy Manor was much improved on his previous accomodations. One of forty guest suites in the Manor which was as grand if not grander than Blenheim or Buckingham Palace. Hand embroidered silk drapes on the bed and windows. The room with teak flooring and penelling on the walls, warmed by the covering of priceless chinese hand-woven rugs on the floor and walls. The feel of the perfectly firm mattress beneath him. The fire in the grate heated the room with dry intense heat. The window open to allow in the fragrant air from the extensive gardens. He was naked apart from a small towel around his waist. It was good to be without filthy ill fitting hand me down clothes and actually warm. Harry had been throughly bathed, his skin soft and smooth. His beard trimmed into a goatee and his hair uncut, but still long. The washed mess had been detangled and combed and was now drying not into an impossible mess but gentle waves. He was dozing lightly when an old woman entered his room. This must be Lucius Malfoy's personal healer.

"Lord Potter. I am Master Healer Marie-Levant Goodfellow. Please do not get up. I will try and not disturb you." The old woman waved her wand in arcs around Harry's body. he could feel the ghosting of the magical probes on his skin. He shivered at the strange sensation.

"You are underweight, malnourished and have a series of vitamin and mineral deficiencies. Your bone density is low, and you have stress fractures in all your long bones. I will prescribe a series of potions to correct for these . No exercise for two weeks. Bed rest, eating small meals, I will give an appropriate menu plan to the elves here. Umm, you have fluctuations in your magical core. I think a cleansing, a magical cleansing is needed. I can do that now. You were muggle raised, were you not?"

"Yes, Ma'am. Oh and I agree to the cleansing. I have read about them. They are described as uncomfortable."

"Umm, it is a peculiar sensation not painful. You should have had a full medical and cleansing on arrival at Hogwarts, like any muggleborn but from your results that never happened. Umm, I'll be having words with Mediwitch Pomphrey. All very substandard. Most of this damage dates before your imprisonment. All treatable with potions. That woman has a duty of care to all her charges. Brace yourself, Lord Potter." With a look of intense concentration, the woman started a long incantation. Rather than peculiar, Harry felt intense pins and needles, which intensified to cramps. He gritted his teeth and rode the discomfort. As the Healer stopped Harry fell into exhausted oblivion.

He woke and noted he had been wrapped in a thick comforter, a cool cloth on his face and the murmur of low voices in the room. He recognized the voice of the Healer "Sleep Lord Potter. I will explain all in the morning. You need to rest."