I, the Prisoner of Azkaban

A slow, deep intake of breath. A short sleep tormenting me with their pictures releases me. The usual pictures. I wake up slowly and raise my head to see one of the creatures standing right in front of my cell. Sucking its breath, sucking the air out of my cell, sucking out the last ounce of warmth that was left in it. I shiver. I thought they gave up on me long ago? No happy thoughts there to feed on. Not for a long time.

After a while, it glides away slowly. My shaking body gradually turns calmer. The creature has moved on to the cell next to me. I can hear the person inside it moaning. "Nooo... please... leave me... I cannot... cannot bear it...." I press my hands against my ears, shaking my head violently, trying to shut them out but they are getting louder, their pain is mingling with mine, I am lying on the floor, curled up, the pictures are starting to come back. More violently than usual, they are flooding my mind. The house. Them lying there. After what seems like an eternity, the moaning becomes slower, more irregular, softer. They all turn quiet after a while.

Slowly, I stand up, leaning against the wall. My body is weaker than it ever was before. I cannot hold much food. Not that what they give us qualifies as 'much'. Wrapping my arms around my stomach, which is sending sharp pains through my body, I can feel my ribs clearly standing out. Sometimes I wonder whether my spine will just snap in two in the next moment. That would certainly stop the pain.

I hear a noise. As quickly as my body allows me to move it, I turn my head to the left. Just in time to see three of the creatures moving by almost noiselessly, dragging along what must be a new prisoner. I study his face intently. I have become obsessed with studying the new ones' faces, their still rosy cheeks, the little hope that is left in their eyes. Sometimes I see them again after they have been here for a while. They are barely recognizable then, of course. Their cheeks sunken in, their eyes nothing but black holes, their mouth hanging open slightly while they mutter to themselves. Drained of everything that made them human.

As he is beside my cell, he turns his head and looks at me. In his eyes, a desperate plea for help, an unspeakable panic. I turn my head away as I struggle to fight the creatures myself, the pictures, the despair, the terror. His panic will soon turn into numbness. Yes, they all turn quiet after a while.

**

The Dementors are feeling particularly hungry today. More than a dozen are lingering in the corridor, gliding up and down, sucking in the air in front of them, looking for happy memories. I have not had any for years. Not even in my sleep do they leave me, the thoughts, the images, the memories. They haunt me.

Two creatures are approaching my cell, another three of them are nearby. I can hear the moaning starting again, my mind starts to spin, and suddenly an image appears clearly in front of my eyes. A street full of Muggles. No. No, I don't want to see it, no... but it is there, the Muggles are moving up and down the street, and there is a small man hurrying away from me, his cloak flying behind him, I have my wand outstretched, I am running, I can hear myself yell his name, then suddenly the crate, the dead Muggles, the Aurors closing in, and I can hear myself laugh. He has done it, he is gone, his finger is lying on the ground next to the gutter, and I am thinking, what a brilliant trick, and I am still laughing as half a dozen Aurors grab hold of me, laughing not out of humour, but out of bitterness, despair, cruelty with myself. For I have deserved no better, it was I who killed them, they are coming to take me now, I will be spending my life with the creatures, but you have deserved no better, murderer, murderer, slaughterer, murderer...

I collapse as something inside my head explodes. The dog, the dog is the only way out, I must hide from my emotions, hide from the blinding flash coming out of his wand, hide from the screaming people, hide from the creatures....

I transform, and at once I can feel my mind getting calmer, the emotions do not affect me as much in this form, the creatures are moving away. My racing heartbeat is getting slower, I am lying still on the ground, my paws stretched out in front of me, I can feel my breathing getting slower, steadier. After a long while, when I have finally calmed down and the Dementors are farther away, I transform back into a man and lie on the cold floor, staring at the ceiling.

I am innocent.

**

Someone is visiting. I can sense the Dementors' excitement as they are waiting for a fresh soul, one that has not been drained of all hope, one that will only be here for a few hours but will provide them with enough happy memories to last them a while. Sure enough, I hear the gate open down the corridor, and someone walks in with a fierce step, so as not to spend any more time in this place than is necessary. The steps are coming closer, and I realize they must be visiting someone near my cell. I stand up and lean against the wall, making myself look as calm and composed as possible. The footsteps approach my cell, and the man stops in front of it. It is Cornelius Fudge. He waits as the Dementors open my cell, enters and waits for them to lock it and clear away again. Undoubtedly he will have communicated to them to stay in close reach, yet as far away as possible so as not to affect him too much. I can see the pearls of sweat on his forehead.

He eyes me for a moment, taking in my thin, bony appearance, the small cell, the deep scratches on the floor and chair that are Padfoot's. He is visibly afraid of coming any closer to me. Finally, he sits down in the only chair there is, and motions for me to sit down on the bed, his eyes never leaving mine. I sit down slowly, staring at him expressionlessly.

He seems at a loss for words. I must have looked more alive the last time he saw me. Asking how I am would seem rather pointless, I assume. "I was going to visit you last month, but some important work held me at the Ministry", he finally says, breaking a long silence.

I nod. "I have no doubt that all of the Ministry's work qualifies as important." He seems thoroughly surprised to hear me speak so calmly. "Yes, yes... some fellow trying to break a Charm in Gringotts... we caught him, of course..."

"The Ministry has not changed, I guess", I say indifferently, trying not to let him feel that I am in fact desperate for any information from the outside world.

"Oh, no... some new ones in the Sports department, some new Aurors having been-", Fudge quickly stops himself. I suppress a humourless grin. Of course, I could always pass this information on to others.

"How are you getting along with that newspaper of yours?" I ask. "I miss doing the crossword."

Fudge swallows, my calm behaviour is obviously unnerving him. "The next issue is on its way... I'll be sending one to you, of course..." He suddenly starts fumbling inside his cloak, glad to have found something to do. "I've brought you the Daily Prophet", he says. "Good read." He passes it on to me. The front page shows a large family waving, says something about the Ministry of Magic and a Grand Prize. I look up at Fudge. "Thank you." There is the usual coolness in my voice. I won't show him how grateful I am for the distraction.

Fudge nods and stands up to go, visibly relieved. "Well, I'll be paying you another visit next month... till then..."

"Good day, Minister", I say as he waves his wand for the Dementors to open him up, with a rather frantic gesture. He turns one more time and nods at me nervously. "Good day, Mr Black." Even that seems an ironic thing to say in here.

I stand at the bars and watch him leave, while several other prisoners are crying out for him to help them. He walks straight on and exits through the big gate. I turn around and sit down on my bed, taking the newspaper.

MINISTRY OF MAGIC EMPLOYEE SCOOPS GRAND PRIZE

Arthur Weasley, Head of the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office at the Ministry of Magic,
has won the annual Daily Prophet Grand Prize Galleon Draw.
A delighted Mr Weasley told the Daily Prophet 'We will be spending the gold on a summer
holiday in Egypt, where our eldest son, Bill, works as a curse breaker forGringotts Wizarding
Bank.'
The Weasley family will be spending a month in Egypt, returning for the start of the new school
year at Hogwarts, which five of the Weasley children currently attend.

Bored with the stories of other people, and with a slight pang of jealousy of their freedom, I want to turn the page when, suddenly, something catches my eye. One of the many children on that Weasley photo has a rat on his shoulder. I stare at it.

Peter.

It cannot be true. I look more closely. How can I be sure? There are billions of rats in the world, I cannot pretend to–

The front paw. I stare at it without blinking until my eyes begin to burn. The missing toe... the finger cut off... of course... it all makes sense...

Suddenly the vision of Peter blowing up the street is more violent than ever. The crate, the blood-stained finger, the dead Muggles. I sit there, transfixed, continuing to stare at the photo.

He's at Hogwarts.

**