AN

This story is my version of HP book 6. Everything you need to know is covered either in the actual series or in here or will be in here eventually.

If you need a disclaimer, you probably shouldn't be reading fan fiction on a website founded solely so people could write about things owned by others; even so, here it is: this is a fictitious, nonprofit work, based of the Harry Potter series, which I do not own.

The Birth of Tom.

Parseltongue/non human speech

Spells/Foreign languages/ Dreams/Text

Chapter one

Azkaban was neither forgiving, nor kind, a sixteen-year-old Harry Potter had discovered. It was nowhere near as tolerable as Sirius, or anyone really, made it sound, which was rather unfortunate considering most people wet themselves talking about it. When you were the one in the cell, with your mind at the mercy of unholy beings, everything seemed much worst for some reason.

If Harry had been able to maintain a self-provoked thought, he would have marveled at his godfather's magical power. He was just as innocent as Sirius had been, but apparently, that didn't matter as much at all; Sirius being able to become a dog probably helped a bit too.

True, Harry was much stronger than most thought, but after three straight days of dozens of them Dementor assaulting his mind, he was driven beyond being able to reason or think coherently. He was left a hallucinating, miserable pile of barely living flesh unworthy of any Dementor's attention. Still, they still ripped the deepest, simplest thoughts away, stealing away all hope of escape. Even if he had a way too, he probably wouldn't have been able to commit suicide, fake voices and images convincing him he was not worthy of death when he had the misfortune of being barely conscious.

That, however, saved him as eventually he retreated too far into himself for even the mightiest Dementor's magic to reach him. After a few more weeks of them searching for a dreg of thought, they deemed him unsatisfying and returned to their normal patrols of the hellish castle.

After a few more weeks, spent wholly on recovering from the trauma, he finally achieved the level of mental health needed for his ingrain willpower to tear him away from the hallucinations, some obviously impossible and others simply negative, allowing him to think clearly. He knew that the time he would have unharmed by Dementors would be short, so he planned every waking moment, fighting his fatigued body for extra minutes of thinking before he passed out. It took two of these precious day before he realized something that shattered him.

"I can't escape." Be it the depression or him being realistic, he knew there was no way he could possibly escape. His voice surprised him a little, being completely alien to him, but he refused to let his mind wander while it dug into such an important topic. "I can't escape."

Any escape plan short of being rescued by Death Eaters simply wasn't going to happen and that one would certainly lead to his death anyway. He hadn't learned wand-less magic, so that was out. He couldn't contact anyone, so he couldn't get help. Worst of all, he didn't have his wand, which tied into the first reason.

"A wand." He corrected himself, after a few moments of mental drifting. Dumbledore snapped his wand shortly after his pathetic trial, despite the protests of both the muggle Ministry representative and minister Fudge. The old bastard chose minutes after his one sided trial to give a rousing speech about resisting the temptations of the joining the Dark. Then, just to emphasize his point, he snapped Harry's wand, saying something about it being every man's duty to defy and combat evil.

To be honest, the speech was rather moving, with grand gestures and the crowd hanging onto his every word. Before his trial, even Harry probably would have been drawn in. Unfortunately, he was on the wrong side of it; the splinters of his wand exploding thanks to Fawkes' feather, after Dumbledore tossed them aside carelessly almost hurt as much as the hate pouring off of his peers.

"Maybe I still can complete my animagus training…" When he said it, it seemed to be a real possibility, but the more he thought about it, the more irrational it seemed. It would take far too long to pull it off and, even if he did try, it almost wasn't worth working on.

Just a month…or was it two months? Three? Whenever his fifth year of Hogwarts ended, Hermione, probably hoping to make Harry feel better about him leading Sirius to his death, procured several doses of an animagus form revealing potion. The same night, they took refuge in the Shrieking Shack and, after Hermione customized each of their potions, they drank the potion and slept, their dreams then focused on their potential animal forms.

Hermione identified her own form as a variety of eagle, something she probably would have bragged about endlessly if she had more time to research the capabilities of her form other than flight. Ron, after comparing it other species, narrowed his down to a type of brown bear, possibly a Grizzly as they couldn't get a good description out of him. Harry however…

"I couldn't just be a duck or an insect or something. Hell, I'd be satisfied with a jellyfish. No, I had to get IT." After an hour of research gave them no results, they turned to Professor McGonagall and later Dumbledore for help. Harry was one of the most intelligent, destructive and evil creature humanity ever had the misfortune of needing to name. Compared to its well known cousin, it was a godlike monster, despite the other having both numbers and size over it. "Dumbledore could barely look at me…It was the same as Voldemort's form."

"I was hoping this wouldn't come to be." Dumbledore took him aside to speak about it. "I placed several charms on you, forced magic into your magical core and bound it away within you. I…I'm sorry, but I knew from the first moment I saw you that this would be your form. You were born with brown eyes, which only turned green only after the Killing curse destroyed my first set of enchantments, breaking some of the defenses I erected against it. Your parceltongue abilities were born from it coming into contact with a piece of Voldemort's magic in your soul."

It actually did make sense that he was accused of killing several other students. Luna died after orally ingesting the venom drawn straight from a basilisk's fang, a rare phenomenon even when one considered the rarity of basilisks. Terrence Higgs, a graduating Slytherin, died from what Dumbledore recognized as the gaze of a Basilisk. Seamus Finnegan died by a Killing curse cast from Harry's wand. It was a wonder Harry even got a trial after that little fact was discovered. He almost couldn't blame anyone for doubting him.

"Who else could it be Harry?" Hermione was the first to side against him, closely followed by Ron. "Why would Voldemort, or anyone else for that matter, waste the use of a basilisk on students? Voldemort wouldn't bother to do it, unless he killed a professor or Dumbledore. Or you." She gained steam as she went, slowly becoming angrier with him as her mind latched onto more arguments for her viewpoint. "You've always been good at complex and difficult spells, haven't you? A partial animagus transformation and a Killing curse would probably be easy for you."

Harry, caught deep in his own thoughts, paid no attention to his surroundings as, almost directly in front of him in the cell across from his, a blob of darkness oozed from the wall. The substance pooled on the floor, slowly spreading as a piece of equally sinister shadowy material drew itself from the same place in the wall.

For a few seconds, the material simply stretched, spreading over its liquid shadow that consumed a round meter of the stone floor. Then, influenced by an invisible force, the piece of material rose above its viscous sibling. As it reached human height, it almost seemed to be a cloak bound to itself at the neck, wrapped around an invisible figure. For a moment, it floated there, billowing serenely with a secret wind that blew against the gusts of ocean air laying siege to the ancient prison. Then, with wisps of it flowing off and dissipating into an icy mist, it drifted forward, slowly, but purposefully.

"The idiots are clearing the path for Voldemort to take over. I hope all of Europe isn't as stupid as they are, or the rest of the world might as well bend over and wait for some Dark Lord to…" Harry stopped himself as an indescribable feeling washed over him. It was wicked, it poisoned his very soul and as memories of his mother's death rushed through his head, he found it all too recognizable. Looking up, his eyes immediately locked onto barely identifiable blur of reality, eagerly consuming most of the light that tried to reflect off it.

As if it had been waiting for him to notice it, it sped up its drifting, phantasmal edges flaking and evaporating away as it approached him. In moments, it grew more identifiable, until it became dark but fully visible. Mouth agape, Harry simply stared, mostly undisturbed by the gust of wind blew in from his window. The air practically burned him with its icy chill, but the cloak seemed to ignore it, wisps of shadows dissipating in all directions as the edges swayed to a secret wind.

"Oh shit!" Harry blurted out. Within seconds, he heard a faint response in the distance. Surprised, he almost approached his cell bars in an attempt to see who it was, when he realized that the…thing, across from him made it to its own cell bars and slid through them, completely unheeded. Even Dementors could only reach a hand in and if the magical attacks from guards on his first day were any hints, spells couldn't get through either.

"Listen!" It was far too much to hope that the guard approaching would be able to save him, but if he was going to die, he might as well tell his side of the story first. Luckily, the creature had to cross the hallway, which was at least four meters in length; its steady movements were practically a slow walk as the cloak and sludge alike slid towards him. "Tell everyone that Harry Potter never hurt anyone! Tell them that I was innocent!" His voice cracked, a reminder that puberty still owned his body.

The lone auror yelled something in response, but Harry paid it no attention. The thing, in his moment of inattention, had surged forward across the hallway and was now barely outside his cell. Stumbling back into his farthest wall, Harry let his mind slip away as he readied himself for death. If fate granted him that.

"I'm sorry." Dozens of people danced through his mind, most identical to those he dreamt up in his journey of self-destruction not too long ago. One person stood out though. The only person who he respected, was still alive and wasn't at his trial, damning his existence and cursing his very life. "I'm sorry that I wasn't like my father Remus." The cloak floated in front of him, its black ooze pooling around his feet. "I guess I won't be the next generation of Marauder you and Sirius hoped for." The ooze started to climb over him, taking away all sensation from the areas it covered.

"I hope you survive Voldemort's reign." It reached his stomach, vanquishing all traces of hunger that refused to be satiated by the daily nutrient potions that appeared for him, that fed themselves to him if he did not promptly drink them. "I suppose Neville might be able to save all of you." It covered his chest and his heartbeat slowed as his thoughts tried not to cease.

"All of you don't deserve to die at his hands; you didn't help me, but you don't deserve to die." It was up to his neck now, stopping already nonexistent blood flow further. "I'm sorry." Panic, then acceptance washed over him as it blinded him, then all traces of him ever even having senses disappeared.

The sound of the dark sea vanished. The taste of the grime, born of potions occasionally fed to him in his sleep, faded. Eventually, only the knowledge that he existed remained. Untold amounts of time later, a quiet voice filled his mind, rejuvenating his thoughts.

"Will you pass on?" It was an appealing idea. He almost wanted to beg to die, but he kept himself quiet. He owed every single one of his parental figures to try not to take the easy way out.

"No? Alright then. Do you wish to fight me?" It almost seemed to be egging him on now, as if it wanted to test his ability. He wouldn't let himself fall prey to it though. Fighting, while not only imprisoned in nothingness, but also desensitized, definitely wouldn't end well for him.

"Not that? Would you like to submit to me?" This inquiry was calm and gentle compared to the other. It held possibility too…but he couldn't. Nothing good ever came from submitting to another, especially under circumstances like these.

If he had given into Voldemort in his first year at Hogwarts, who knows how horribly his life would have ended. His parents would probably be disappointed too. They fought to the death to try to protect him against Voldemort…he might as well spit on their graves while he was at it. Then again, so long as he was happy and healthy, they might not care; he didn't really have enough experience with parents to know.

"What do you chose?" It waited a second as Harry went over his options. "What do you wish to do?" The first choice was the best. He could escape to heaven, hell or wherever he was supposed to go after death. The second was simply retarded and the last wasn't much better. After thinking things over though, he realized the voice gave him many more options than just those three. The last sentence it uttered allowed him to do whatever he wanted, so long as he didn't annoy the owner of the voice doing it.

"I want to go back?" A familiar barking laugh sounded, painfully memorable, shortly followed with an angry hiss. The laugh was almost made him forget that he could understand that hiss if he chose to, being too important for him to focus on anything else.

"I knew you wouldn't fail me kid! I'm not allowed to say you can, but I knew you would figure it out!" A set of sounds, almost dog like, accompanied the voice now. "I suppose I might as well fulfill my duties as a godfather now. I promised to help you however I could, to watch over you in life and death and I will never break my promise to your parents."

"You couldn't be." A huge dog appeared, trotting out of the darkness to stand before him. For a moment, Harry realized that he had a body, but that was quickly surpassed by the realization that only one person he knew would be represented as a massive dog and talk the way it seemed to. "Siri…" Behind the dog, a ridiculously large snake reared back and lunged forward, it's black, silver and green scales burning an unmistakable pattern into his mind. He would never forget the creature that ruined his life and sent him to hell on earth. Without intending to, he let the cursed beast's name release itself to the world. "A Dwarf Basilisk."

"What?" As Sirius the dog turned around, Harry's senses exploded with life.