At the Empty Cell

Hoo, Merlin. Back around these cellblocks again.

It should be routine, patrolling these damn stinky cellblocks. Been routine for years. But now, it’s been anything but since the night Black…did it.

It was supposed to be fuckin’ impossible! We’ve always fuckin’ believed it! That’s what we’ve been all so bloody proud of!

But last month - it happened.

The most heavily fuckin’ guarded prisoner in this whole damn pit, would you believe!

Right from under our bloody noses! Not even a bloody trace or signature to show how he’d done it. We used every bloody Charm we could possibly think of. Revealing Charms, Portkeys, Apparation (damn Fudge! Everybody knows you can’t apparate out of Azkaban!), put all the fuckin’ prisoners under Veritaserum, used the Sneakoscopes on our own lads, We even checked for tunnels. Tunnels! Ha! The very idea makes me laugh. But Muggle-lovin’ Weasley gave Fudge the idea that some Muggle called, I think, the Count of Cronte Misco, escaped from some French Muggle prison that was also on an island by digging a tunnel, and bloody Fudge told us to chase every possibility.

But there was nothing! Absolutely nothing! Nothing to show but bloody wasted hours looking’ for fuckin’ tunnels and foolin’ about with Sneakoscopes.

I wasn’t part of it myself. I’d only just knocked off my shift when I heard the bloody alarms. Now that was a surprise in itself. We seldom hear the damn things. It’s been mostly drills than anything else. As a matter of fact, we welcome the drills for the sheer excitement. Anything to relieve the boredom. But it was no fuckin’ drill this time.

I followed my drillin’ and assembled in the corridor with my mates for further instructions on the magic intercom.

“Breakout! We have a breakout! Sirius Black has escaped from his cell! Seal off all corridors and exits! Repeat, seal off all corridors and exits! Remain at your posts for further instructions!”

And I remained at my post by the front door. I stood there like a bloody little idiot, at the gates until dawn broke. Though I knew I didn’t feel as half an idiot as Warden Gore. But the only real idiot around here was that damn Fudge. I hadn’t heard details but I heard the rumours that the idiot just ran around like a chicken that had lost its head, to use a Muggle expression. Hunter did a tremendous job with his impersonation of Fudge afterwards. We just lapped it up. We don’t get much laughs here either, and things have been even more depressin’ since Black did it.

Gore resigned by morning. Merlin. That hit us hard. Gore was one of the finest Wardens that Azkaban has ever had. The portraits of his predecessors were most sad to see him go, even though they were hopping mad at this whole bloody mess and not too pleased with him. Gore’s left big shoes to fill and there’s not many willing to try. Being Deputy, Stonewall had to fill in the post. He’s been after the top job for years, but it’s a sour victory because he’s taking the brunt of this whole damn fiasco. Needless to say, Johnson wasn’t keen, but there’s nobody else, so he‘s bloody stuck with it.

And he looks it. Poor old Stonewall. Used to be so proud of his job (that’s what being a fuckin’ sadist does for you) but now he’s worn to a bloody frazzle with this whole damn Black business. Looks almost like a fuckin’ prisoner himself. But he won’t give up. I admire his guts for that. Wouldn’t like to be in Black’s shoes when Stonewall gets his bloody hands on him! Guess I should feel sorry for Black, too.

*~*~*

There they go again. They’re actually sneerin’ at us, those damn cheeky Deatheaters. Sneering. After twelve years in this place you’d think they wouldn’t have any strength or marbles left to do anything like that. But there’s Bella Lestrange. Nothin’ seems to wipe that arrogant, disdainful look off her face, not even Dementors. Now she‘s worse than ever since Black escaped. On the first night she kept shriekin’ in her ‘orrible mocking voice:

“You stupid fool! You failed to keep my blood traitor cousin! If you failed to keep my blood traitor cousin, what chance do you have against the Dark Lord when he comes for us! Beware, guard, beware the day the Dark Lord will come for us! Ha! Ha! Ha!“

That was just the first night. Now she’s settled for laughin’ at us like a bloody maniac whenever we pass, but that‘s even bloody worse! Especially with the acoustics of this damn corridor which give her horrible witch‘s cackle such a gratin’ echo. Makes you want to break your teeth from gnashin’. It just won‘t go away. I’ve tried to ignore it but, that cackle pounds right into your skull and makes your teeth grit. What’s worse, it encourages the other Deatheaters. They’ve all turned into rebels since Black escaped. Now they all laugh and sneer at us when we pass - especially if they to throw their bloody food - or even worse - their fuckin’ slop buckets at us. And then they all laugh at us for being as bloody stinky and filthy as they are.

You’d think one bloody flick of our wands, only to happy to put the Cruciatus Curse on them would shut them bloody well up. But no sooner do I start on one when another bloody well starts acting up. I can’t fight them on all sides.

Merlin. I’ll be glad when the Dementors get back. They’ll soon settle these cheeky bastards. But bloody Fudge has sent most of them to Hogwarts to catch Black. The brilliant Fudge mind at work again. Most of the Dementors up at Hogwarts to catch one bloody prisoner - and leave us guards hard-pressed to keep the bloody rest of them in order. We’ve had to double our shifts as some of us got axed when Black did it. Gore chucking in the towel just wasn’t enough. The lads who normally patrol this section had to get the chop. Leaving the rest of us to work double-time to make up for them and hardly any Dementors. If this goes on much longer we’ll be as bloody frazzled as Stonewall.

And those bloody prisoners bloody well know it. Those damn Deatheaters are taking bloody full advantage of it until those Dementors get back.

Or maybe, as her Ladyship Lestrange says - You-Know-Who comes for them.

I’m shiverin’ to the core of my boots at the thought. Merlin, I bloody well hope not.

Well, at least there’s no sign that bloody You-Know-Who came for Black anyway. It was the first thing we thought of. The very idea sent the Ministry into panic attacks (ha, ha!) but there was nothing to show that it was You-Know-Who. No guards killed by the Killing Curse, no *shudder* Dark Mark anywhere - except scribbled all over the Deatheaters’ cells. Thank Merlin. It’s bad enough with these smart-alec Death eaters - and they’re not the only ones. There’s others in the other sections who’ve still got enough bloody marbles left that are ribbin’ us as well.

Even when you’re in the mess hall, there’s no escape from the bloody ribbin‘. Some bloody idiot brought back some of those tacky souvenirs they’re sellin‘. Knockturn Alley was quick on the mark, of course. Started a roaring trade in Black souvenirs that weren’t only tacky but dangerous. Merlin! There was even one that had a little Black blowin’ up your bedroom wall or even somebody’s face. The Ministry clamped down on ‘em bloody quick and left the bloody miscreants with us for a very long stretch. And believe me, we bloody well enjoy havin’ ‘em!

Somebody had the bright idea of settin’ up the cheekier ones in our mess hall! Mind you, I must admit they raised some chuckles among the lads, even if they almost got hexed for it.

There’s one of a little Sirius Black blowin’ up a little Azkaban. And there’s another that looks like a wizard chess set, only you have Black smashin’ up little Dementors. There’s one that must have come out of Zonkos; Sirius Black turning Dementors into just about every hilarious thing you can think of.

But the one that’s really all the rage is the one which takes the wanted poster and have it say cheeky things about the Ministry - ‘specially Fudge. Then it cackles and blows loud raspberries. Must say that we love it too - me and the lads can’t help but fuckin’ agree with what the bloody poster says about Fudge. I’ve bought one for myself. Hope to stick on Fudge’s cloak - or even better, on his famous bowler - with a Permanent Sticking Charm next time he comes.

But we weren’t goin’ to just put up with cheeky damn souvenirs. We’ve managed to come up with some of our own. Johnson, ever so imaginative, has come up with an effigy of Black that screams as great as the real thing every time we punch it. We ain’t got the real thing to beat up anymore, so we have to make fuckin’ do until he’s caught. Johnson’s also come up with his own version of those fuckin’ posters. These ones scream like hell when we throw darts at them. Beauty is, the holes vanish instantly so we can always start again. They’re so popular that we’re doin’ contests. Person to hit Black’s mouth the most times wins a bottle of Fire Whiskey. Young won yesterday. I wasn’t much fuckin’ good but I don’t care. I just want to throw ’em at Black and hear him squeal.

*~*~*

Merlin. It’s Black’s old cell. Whenever I make the rounds, I always stop to fuckin’ look at it.

The empty cell.

Exactly the way Black fuckin’ left it.

And it will stay empty until Black is caught. That’s what the Warden said and that’s what we’ve all sworn to. We’ve all agreed.

That cell stays empty until Black’s caught, Kissed or declared dead.

Nobody else is to stay in that cell. It stays Black’s cell until further notice.

Stick by me, I’ll show you the things of interest.

Over in the corner you can see the mark Black fuckin’ made by huddlin’ for years in it. Yeah, you see that big dark stain in the corner. Black made that just by years of huddlin’ into it. Huddlin’s pretty much what he ever did, from what the lads told me. At least, that’s what he did when we passed around.

Now if you look on the other wall, you’ll see Black’s calendar. Scratch marks he made to mark his time here. And note this - it’s really weird. Most prisoners start calendars just like this, but they usually go too bloody mad or weak to carry on. But not Black. No, no, he kept it up right until the day he - did it. As you peer in, you can see what he did to bloody mark it. It’s not a mark for another day - it’s a great big scratch that goes right through the whole thing.

And at the end of the scratches, there’s a great big bloody rat. A bloody rat with a fuckin’ “X” goin’ right through it.

Don’t ask me what that means. Anyway, we get rats all the time around here, so what’s the difference.

There’s his toilet. A hole in the floor. Nice and simple, no fuss. And there’s his cot. Bloody filthy like everything else here. Nothin’ I can say about it except it’s where he kept tossin’ and sayin’ “he’s at Hogwarts”, right before he did it.

Around the walls Black’s scattered other bloody scribbles:

“Forgive me, James and Lily.” - Doesn’t say anything’ about them Muggles, does he?

“I am innocent.” Yeah, they all say that.

“Padfoot” - That’s his old nickname from school, I hear.

“Kreacher must do the cooking here” - have to say I do find that funny.

What’s that you say? Isn’t that his wanted poster right in the centre?

Yep. That’s his wanted poster. None of those cheeky posters I was tellin‘ you about. The lads really wanted to put one of the squealing ones in there, but Stonewall wouldn’t agree. It had to be the real thing. The wanted poster, just like the ones you see everywhere you bloody well look. We keep it here because as I told you, this stays Black’s cell until further notice - and we mean that!

…Merlin, you mind headin’ back the other way now? Seein’ that empty cell just makes me sick! It may be an empty cell but I find it even more fuckin’ insulting than all them cheeky souvenirs put together! Totally empty, but it’s torturing’ me even more than those fuckin’ things. Gallin‘! Fuckin’ gallin’! Just seein’ that cell empty instead of havin’ Black in it just makes me want to fuckin‘…I’m gonna…

Um, perhaps it is now a very good time to say:

THE END