Innocence Lost

I am a Death Eater

I was accused of a crime

I was innocent.

§ § §

Azkaban Prison . . .

Here they come again. Just like always, eager to feast upon us. Coldness fills the cell. It always comes when they are near, its tendrils stretching through the bars, drifting to every corner while sinuously wrapping around my body, chilling me to the core. Once more they come to feed on any happy memories I might have, hoping to suck every pleasurable moment from my very soul violently with relish. If they had faces, I'm sure they would be grinning with glee, eager to derive their pleasure from sucking the happiness and hope from our heads.

Of course, I thought bitterly, I never had any happy memories of my father to begin with. Instead of being the perfect role model that other fathers seemed to have been, playing Quidditch, shopping for racing brooms, treating their children to ice cream treats; my father did none of that. He acted like he was ashamed of me and treated me like scum. My father had been a disappointment for me; he had never been there for me, and he expected me to be perfect.

And now, look at me, stuck in Azkaban. Of course, it was you who got me sent here in the first place, wasn't it? Yes, I remember that failed mission all too well . . . .

Thirteen years ago . . .

In the small shack, the air had long since gone stale and was filled with dust that got stuck in the back of my throat. I leaned against a dingy, molding wall with the paint flaking off, covered in graffiti, with a solitary framed picture that had faded to obscurity over the years. A faint beam of light trickled through a small, dirt-crusted window, doing nothing to alleviate the darkness. Layers of dirt covered the floor and my boots were nearly covered in grime, much to my disgust. A solitary lantern sat on the table, illuminating the faces of the four inhabitants; three with scowls on their faces and one with a nervous look.

I crossed my arms, angrily looking at Dolohov and the Lestranges. We were the remaining four of the Death Eaters that had chosen to remain loyal to the Dark Lord. The very same Dark Lord that had been exiled all because of that stupid Potter brat, I thought angrily. Well, we'll just have to figure out a way to bring back the Dark Lord and then the wizarding world will have to bow to its inevitable collapse. He will return, I will personally guarantee that.

"The Longbottoms," Lestrange said, a scowl on his face. He brushed a piece of his black hair from his eyes as he leaned on his knees from his sitting position on the only chair. "They'll know."

"We can use the Cruciatus Curse on him," Anya Lestrange said, grinning wickedly, tossing back her long, shinning black hair. "He'll have to tell us."

"I don't know . . ." Dolohov said from his place next to the dirty window. Dolohov, who was quite thin to begin with, seemed to grow even thinner as the days passed, now approaching gauntness. His pale skin stuck out against his dark hair.

"Dolohov, you disgust me!" Lestrange growled. "You're a Death Eater, for crying out loud! You're supposed to be part of this mission but if you don't think you're up to it, then get out," Lestrange snarled, pointing at the door. "You just better not speak one word, or you're dead."

Dolohov steeled his gaze. "I was merely being cautious," Dolohov said coolly. "Our Lord has just recently been exiled and for all we know, there might be some pretty heavy duty charms around the sorts of families that angered our Lord."

"We're the Dark Lord's most loyal Death Eaters," Anya said, smirking. "And the most powerful. The Longbottoms won't stand a chance. Besides," she scoffed, "they're so trustworthy, it's sickening. We won't have a problem."

"What do you think, Crouch?" Lestrange asked, his cold gaze boring into my own steely gaze. I was the youngest Death Eater by far, having only recently turned eighteen. I had only been a full Death Eater for a year, but already I was one of the most loyal to the Dark Lord, and I knew that he knew that. He had put me in charge of several missions that I had never failed. The Lestranges had been the family to take me in the night after my father threw me out of my house the final time. My father hated me, and I despised him. Of course, he loved my mother, but it didn't matter that I was her son. He just wanted me out of the way.

After the Lestranges took me in, they showed me the path of the Dark Lord, a path I had already been thinking about for some time. It would be a way to reach power that I could never achieve on my own. And with that power, I could bring down my father and all those who oppose me. The Dark Lord was the only one that had shown interest in my well-being, other than my mother, of course. He took me under his wing, sheltering me, and for that, I owe him my loyalty. The Lestranges were high up in the Dark Lord's Inner Circle, even higher than Malfoy. They had helped me to become what I am now. I owe them a great deal.

"I think we should do it," I responded coldly. "Longbottom will know and if he doesn't, his wife will."

Lestrange nodded, looking at the other two Death Eaters. "It's settled then. Tomorrow night, we strike."

§ § §

Garbed in our cloaks and masks, the four of us headed through the woods to the Longbottoms' house. Dusk had just fallen, enshrouding the forest in shadow and darkness, allowing us to remain unseen. Not a sound could be heard except for the soft crunching of leaves beneath our heavy boots. We became shadows, stalking through the woods towards our prey. Where moonlight filtered through the canopy, it hit our ivory masks, making them glow eerily in the darkness. As we walked, I tightly gripped my wand in my hand. Beads of nervous sweat gathered on my forehead and poured down my face as we walked, making the air behind the mask even more humid and stifling. At least it was rather cool outside, for our Death Eater robes were rather thick. Looking out of the slitted eyes of the mask, I carefully watched the path so as not to trip over a root and make a fool of myself. Am I actually having second thoughts? I don't believe this . . . I'm actually doubting this mission. I tried to shake the thoughts from my head, but failed.

Frank has always been kind to you, said the little voice inside of my h.

"Lumos," I heard Lestrange whisper, and a very tiny green light dimly lit up our immediate surroundings.

Shut up, I willed the voice in my head.

Just think about this, Barty. Frank took care of you all those times your father beat you. Do you remember that? the voice continued.

Shut up!

Sure, the Lestranges were the ones who helped you after your father threw you out when your mother was gone for that year. But what about before that? The Longbottoms took care of you!!! All those times when you sat outside in the pouring rain and Mr. Longbottom would find you and bring you back to their house. Mrs. Longbottom would nurse you back to health, feeding you and taking care of you as if you were their son! Now you're just going to lead these murderers to their house and torture them, even kill them? THINK, Barty, THINK!!!

SHUT UP!!!!

Would you just look at yourself? Are you so sure that the Dark Lord has taken you in because he cares for you? Utter RUBBISH!! Are you that naïve to think that he actually cares about what happens to you? Why are you trying to resurrect him?

I will always be lyal to him! Will you just shut up?

Not until you listen! You're making a mistake, Barty! You, and only you, can prevent this from happening!

I don't care! They know where my Lord is!

You are a fool, Barty! the voice screamed. They know nothing! Why are you doing this? Stop! Please, Barty, stop this! The Longbottoms don't deserve this! They have showed nothing but kindness to you your entire life!

They foiled the Dark Lord's plans! Longbottom is an Auror! He's killed many of the Death Eaters.

He was doing his job!

And I'm doing mine!

Do you have any morals at all, Barty? Don't do this, please, don't do this!

SHUT UP!!! I'M NOT LISTENING!

Thankfully, the voice didn't continue, and I turned my attention back to the present. As we neared the manor, Lestrange whispered, "Nox," and the light was gone. We crept silently towards the manor, like a pack of stalking panthers nearing our prey.

Seeing the familiar manor, the heart I didn't think I had, clenched up. I actually stopped, staring up at the brightly lit windows, remembering back to those warm, happy nights that I had stayed there under Mrs. Longbottom's care.

"Crouch!" Anya hissed, bringing me back to the present. "Come on!"

I nodded and we crept up to the back door. "Detonatus!" Lestrange yelled and the door blew open, revealing the living room where the Longbottoms were sitting. Mrs. Longbottom had a child in her arms. I froze, staring at the child. I couldn't kill a child.

Mrs. Longbottom screamed, jumping up and running for the door.

"Cunctorgelo!" Anya yelled and Mrs. Longbottom froze in mid-stride, the baby wailing.

Mr. Longbottom faced them, his wand bared. "Get out of my house!" he demanded.

"No, I think we're going to stay a bit," Anya said cruelly. "Just until we find out what we came here for."

Lestrange laughed evilly and pointed his wand at Mr. Longbottom. Mr. Longbottom was firing off curses, but Lestrange evaded all of them and yelled, "CRUCIO!" Mr. Longbottom collapsed onto the floor, writhing in pain. Screaming in anguish and terrific pain, Mr. Longbottom convulsed, his eyes widening as he realized that the pain wasn't going away. He curled up in a fetal position, his face contorted in pain. His screams mingled with the baby's wails.

I stood back, watching as the Lestranges and Dolohov tortured Mr. Longbottom, asking him where the Dark Lord was.

Dolohov glanced at one of the windows and then spun to face me. "Someone was just at the window!" he hissed. "Get them!"

I amazed myself as I forced my feet to move, running out the back door, trying to find the person, but they were gone. I raced back inside. "Well?" Dolohov hissed.

"I took care of them."

Dolohov nodded and turned back to Mr. Longbottom. Did I just lie to him? I know that I didn't catch the person. Do I actually want them to be caught? Oh, my Lord, I think I do!

"Tell me where he is!" Lestrange was demanding.

"Stop," I whispered, too afraid to say it louder.

"You're hopeless," Lestrange growled, removing the curse and kicking Mr. Longbottom in the side. He curled up into a ball, whimpering. Mr. Longbottom opened his eyes, gazing up at me with pain mixed with anger, not recognizing me due to the mask. I bit my lip, my chest clenching in guilt.

"Please, please, no more," Mr. Longbottom whispered.

"Then tell me where he is!!"

"I don't know!" Mr. Longbottom whimpered.

"Maybe this can help you remember. Crucio!"

The screams filled the house making me flinch. I had to turn my head away from the sight of Mr. Longbottom writhing on the floor, his face bright red from screaming. Lestrange lifted the curse and silence filled the room, only permeated by the soft whimpers of Mr. Longbottom. Even the baby had gone silent. Shudders ravaged his body from the after effects of the curse.

I felt a slight tug on the edge of my robes and looked down to see Mr. Longbottom grasping them tightly, looking up at me pleadingly. "Please, don't do this. No more," he managed, his hands shaking violently.

My breath caught in my throat as I looked down at the man who had been like the father I had never had. The man who had taken care of me so many nights, his face now contorted in pain.

He never cared! Don't listen to him! He's poisoning your mind, trying to make you disloyal to your master!

I ripped my robe back, stepping away from him. "Don't touch me," I hissed, my voice disguised by my mask. Mr. Longbottom collapsed onto the floor, his body wracked with sobs.

Suddenly, the child began wailing again as Anya ripped the screaming child from its mother's arms and Lestrange, taking off the Freezing Charm, performed the Cruciatus Curse on Mrs. Longbottom.

The child was yelling loudly and Anya held it up, clearly disgusted. "Take it," she growled, shoving the child into my arms. I was frozen for that minute as the child continue to scream, watching in horror as Mrs. Longbottom screamed for mercy, begging for the curse to be lifted.

I stumbled back, and fled into the other room, setting the wailing child on a chair. I didn't know what to do. I lifted my mask, showing my face to the tiny infant.

"I'm sorry," I whispered and the child quieted, looking up at me with watery eyes, as if he recognized my voice. "Please forgive me." Wetness trickled down the sides of my face and I realized that I was crying. The salty tears were mingling with the sheen of sweat on my face, making me feel physically dirty to match my soul and consciousness. My heart bled for the child whose parents were screaming in the next room, under one of the most painful curses imaginable. Me? Crying? How is that possible? I haven't cried ever, not even when I was born! "I'm sorry, Neville, that you will never grow up with parents. They were very good and I -"

My apology was cut short by Lestrange's sharp yell.

"Crouch! Get in here!" Lestrange's voice yelled from the other room. I shoved my mask down and, with one last glance at the child, I fled the room.

The other three Death Eaters were crowded around the huddled forms of the Longbottoms. They stared up at the Death Eaters, their faces blank and expressionless, as if they had lost all sense of who they were. It pained me to see two loyal and caring people who were once so strong reduced to . . . this by . . . such hatred and senselessness . . . this couldn't go on. I had to stop it. Lestrange had pointed his wand at them and was about to mutter the Killing Curse on the Longbottoms when I grabbed his wand.

"Crouch, what are you doing?" he yelled.

"Stop! You have to stop this! For the child's sake!" I yelled, sickened by seeing the child's parents lying on the ground, barely moving. The Cruciatus Curse had broken their formerly strong spirits. Perhaps they had been to pure of heart to bear it, perhaps it was because the Lestranges harbored enough hatred in them to make the curse especially virulent. They were little more than vegetables now . . . cowering and fearful, their minds broken. I could hear Neville wailing from the other room and I blinked away the tears that formed. I'm so sorry, Neville!

"Are you mad?!" Lestrange yelled, fighting me. Lestrange was much larger than I was, for I was very much a scrawny teenager, and he wrested his wand back from me with no problem. He was about to perform a curse on me when twelve Aurors Apparated around us, closing us in.

"You're under arrest," one of the Aurors said coldly, "for the torture of and use of an Unforgivable Curse on the Longbottoms."

§ § §

Cold, so cold. I shivered with fear and anguish as the six Dementors led us into the courtroom. Please, please, make the voices stop! I thought as I relived the beatings that my father had given me all my life, over and over. And then the night of the Longbottoms' torture. Reliving it was horrible and I couldn't get it out of my head. I could tell that the Lestranges were weakening under the power of the Dementors and Dolohov was quaking in fear.

We were roughly sat down in four chained chairs; we couldn't move. I looked around the room and saw my father and my mother sitting next to each other. My mother was weeping. I'm sorry mother! I didn't do anything! My father stood, looking coldly at us.

"You have been brought here before the Council of Magical Law," he said, his voice void of emotion, "so that we may pass judgment oou, for a crime so heinous -"

"Father, please . . ." I begged. God, I didn't do anything! Please! For once in your horrible life, please love me even a little to not send me to Azkaban for something I didn't do!!!

"- that we have rarely heard the like of it within this court," my father continued, ignoring my pleas. His voice grew louder, although I kept begging. "We have heard the evidence against you. The four of you stand accused of capturing an Auror - Frank Longbottom - and subjecting him to the Cruciatus Curse, believing him to have knowledge of the present whereabouts of your exiled master, He- Who-Must-Not-Be-Named -"

"Father, I didn't!" I shrieked desperately, struggling against the chains that bound me. "I didn't, I swear it, Father; don't send me back to the Dementors -"

"You are further accused," my father bellowed, "of using the Cruciatus Curse on Frank Longbottom's wife, when he would not give you information. You planned to restore He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named to power, and to resume the lives of violence you presumably led while he was strong. I now ask the jury -"

I looked up at my mother desperately. "Mother!" I screamed, terrified to the core of my very being. "Mother, stop him, Mother, I didn't do it, it wasn't me!" Oh, God, please, help me!!! Mother, please!! I'm begging you! My mother rocked back and forth, sobbing into her handkerchief. Not Azkaban, please! I'm innocent! I didn't do it!

"I now ask the jury," shouted my father, "to raise their hands if they believe, as I do, that these crimes deserve a life sentence in Azkaban!"

I watched in horror as every single witch and wizard on the right-hand side of the dungeon raised their hands. The crowd around the walls began to clap, their faces full of savage triumph, like spectators at a Roman gladiator event; these people seemed thrilled to see a fellow human being condemned to a horrible fate.

I screamed, "No! Mother, no! I didn't do it, I didn't do it! Don't send me there, don't let him!"

The Dementors glided back into the room and despair filled me. The Dementors took us off of our chairs, gripping our arms so that we each stood between Dementors. I watched as Anya faced my father and yelled, "The Dark Lord will rise again, Crouch! Throw us into Azkaban; we will wait! He will rise again and will come for us; he will reward us beyond any of his other supporters! We alone were faithful! We alone tried to find him!"

I struggled desperately against the Dementors' grips, but to no avail. I could feel despair wash over me, seeping into me slowly from the outside until it reached my very core, leaving nothing. The crowd was jeering, some of them on their feet, as Anya was taken out of the dungeon.

"I'm your son!" I screamed up at my father. "I'm your son!"

"You are no son of mine!" my father yelled. "I have no son!" Father! No!! I am your son! My mother fainted. "Take them away! Take them away, and may they rot there!"

"Father! Father, I wasn't involved! No! No! Father, please!" I screamed desperately. No, no! Please, no!

The Dementors surrounded me and blackness came like a tidal wave, engulfing me.

§ § §

Azkaban Prison . . .

I sat in the shadows, watching and waiting. The Dementors passed by my cell, making me shiver with cold. Unhappiness filled my mind and I took a deep breath, trying to shut out the screams that always came. Closing my eyes, I clenched my fists tightly. And then it passed and I could breathe again.

My father had abandoned me. He disowned me. I hate him; no, I despise him for that and he will pay. My downfall at his hands will not be forgiven. But, Father, you will not live in your happy world much longer. Mother has been visiting many times, and I see her growing weaker. My time is coming and soon, Father, you will pay for what you did for me. You will feel the pain and terror that I feel daily, constantly in my mind, freezing my very blood. There is no revenge truly awful enough to make amends for what you have done. You will beg for mercy when I come for you and I will not care, for you showed me none when my life was in your hands.

§§

I am a Death Eater

I was accused of a crime

I was innocent.