Harry Potter and everything related to it doesn't belong to me. No money is being made with this story.

In Prison

Somewhere, someone was screaming.

That wasn't an unusual occurrence in Azkaban prison. The cells were built in a way that made it easy to hear our fellow prisoners. Probably, they hoped this would weaken us even more. Us, most of us accomplished torturers very familiar with screaming and the things that caused it. The Ministry hasn't really thought this matter through. They hardly ever do.

I've learned more about my fellow Death Eaters during those years in Azkaban than I ever did as the only examined healer wearing the Dark Mark. By now, I knew their greatest fears and their worst nightmares. I'm still true to some of the things I once swore: I'm not going to use it against them.

If I don't have to.

The one screaming at that moment wasn't one of us though. It was "Prisoner across the corridor one cell to the left". At the Ministry he had been tortured into confessing that he was a Death Eater, he wasn't, who had committed terrible crimes, they've never even happened. At least not as far as I know.

He was reliving these hours in the Ministry's "care" again and again for years now. In between he screamed that he was innocent, that they should let him out, that his confessions were wrong.

There was no one here to listen but me and there was nothing I could do.

I know more about the after effects of torture and their treatment than any living witch or wizard, the Dark Lord included, but without Wand, Potions or sunlight that's little use. I actually had expected to see Prisoner across the corridor one cell to the left die soon after I had been brought in, but he was still around.

His will to survive was extraordinary.

Two Dementors opened my cell to bring food. I remembered the day I had fallen off the broom in my first flying lesson. Embarrassing no doubt, but this kind of thing would not drive me mad.

The Dementors left the food and went on to the cell next to mine.

"Please Master, do not punish me. I tried, I tried! Stop your hurting me. Please, make it stop. Mother, make it stop!"

I took a deep breath. That was Bellatrix's voice. What she was saying didn't make too much sense. I had no idea in what state I'd meet her again. If I'd ever meet her again. One thing was for sure though; she wouldn't be the same anymore.

I had tried to talk to her many times, but she'd stopped answering a long time ago. I would have done something about that if I could, but there was no way and worrying about her was an unhelpful thought.

I'd take care of her when we were free again.

The Dementors moved on and I turned to my food. Azkaban is a notorious place, but there are many things here that could be worse.

Everyone has a sink with clear water; a toilet probably cared for by magic and something resembling a bed in each cell. An everlasting candle was giving a dim light. If I had designed a prison to cause maximum discomfort, a few things would have been very different.

The food wasn't too bad either. Actually, it tasted exactly like the food served at 's. I had the suspicion that the same people (or House-Elves) were responsible for cooking it. During my time at 's the food had been one of those things I'd kept arguing over with the administration.

To no effect of course.

Instead I had advised the relatives of my patients to bring fruits and vegetables rather than useless and often dangerous flowers. The number of accidents caused by plants brought into the hospital is astonishing, even more so given the fact that healers are supposed to be adept at Herbology.

In my opinion, everyone who brings deadly plants into a ward for mentally ill patients should remain there. Or be brought to this place, depending on his motivation.

Anyway, the food wasn't good enough to make sick people healthy, but to keep healthy people from becoming sick, it was more than enough.

I actually remembered this exact dish from my time at 's. Mashed potatoes, boiled parsnips and one long, thin sausage. One Cruciatus curse patient panicked when given this food.

No one was really able to figure out why, but the man started attacking everyone and one of my colleagues gave him a strong Calming Potion. I warned against it, but that didn't interest them.

The Cruciatus curse leaves traces that interact with other spells and with potions. My colleagues didn't believe that but assumed it was over as soon as the curse was lifted. Thus our patient died, which is probably why I can remember the incident now.

Not a success story.

Was she eating the exact same dish at this very moment? If she hadn't been killed by someone's stupidity, or less likely, found a healer competent in the matters of the Cruciatus curse, she probably was.

Alice.

I remember as if it had been yesterday. The two Aurors were caught and the Dark Lord wanted them to join his side. He told me to try and persuade Alice because I had known her before. She was my cousin's cousin.

I tried my best not only because I wanted to fulfill the Dark Lord's orders but also because I wanted to save her.

There was no chance. Very soon, she ended up lecturing me and I was foolish enough to let her. In the end, she told me that she'd rather die as a free woman than "crawl on the floor in constant fear of being tortured for any mistake." That's how she described life as a Death Eater. Her head held high, she walked into the Dark Lord's Circle.

Such pride!

I was sure she'd die for her insolence but she did not. Other order members attacked and in the turmoil that followed, both managed to escape.

Last time we met, she did not escape. Against the Cruciatus curse she stood no chance. No one does. In the end, she was begging for mercy but did not receive it.

She had told Longbottom not to speak even though he did know. That much my Legilimency skills told me, but I failed to wring his secret from him. Until the very end, he defied me. Both have paid the price.

I was fighting the thought, but I had not success, this was Azkaban after all. If it had been us, everything would have been almost the same.

I would have told them everything if they threatened Bellatrix, watching her punishments by the Dark Lord was already breaking my heart. I was careful not to show this to anyone of course, but that didn't change the facts. No cause could be strong enough for me to willingly allow her to be harmed.

Bellatrix, like Alice wouldn't have wanted this though. To her, nothing's more important than the Dark Lord's cause.

The Dementor returned to take the empty plate away.

"Rodolphus please, I can't stand anymore", I heard Alice say and remembered the wild surge of power. Finally, she was admitting defeat.

The Dementor moved away quickly.

I heard a knock on the left wall of my cell.

Rabastan.

I walked the few steps over there. They had put us all into cells next to each other. Obviously, it hadn't occurred to them that this might make the stay in this place easier. They didn't believe that family would mean something to a Death Eater.

They were wrong.

My cousin Elorie at least knew. She always brought the recent newspapers when she came to visit. Half of them, she gave to me, the others to Rabastan. We were lucky; she was the Auror visiting Azkaban most frequently because she, like us, wasn't affected by the Dementors as badly as other people. If the Dark Lord ever tried to force us into a confrontation with her, neither of us would obey the command. Sorry Dark Lord, sorry Bellatrix but family comes first.

"How do you do, Rod," I heard Rabastan ask through the stone wall. We couldn't see each other, but there was no need. It would probably have done more harm than good. People usually didn't leave Azkaban looking the way they had when entering.

"The usual," I answered. "Have you read the newest papers?"

"Of course. The Triwizard Tournament is really fascinating. I would have loved to be there," said Rabastan. "What do you think who'd have been the Hogwarts champion back in our days?"

Bellatrix was the first person who came to my mind of course. But probably, it would have been some Gryffindor. Potter or Longbottom, maybe Mudblood Lily too. They didn't seem to care about that. Neither of the two Hogwarts champions was a pure-blood. I told Rabastan so.

"It's really weird that they're allowing two Hogwarts champions to compete," my brother said. "Magical contract or not, a wizard like Dumbledore should find a way around this."

"I have no idea. Don't think Dumbledore's really as powerful as they pretend though. Who do you think's going to win?"

"The Hogwarts champions seem to be in the lead," Rabastan said. "No wonder. There are two of them and they're at home. I'd love to see the French girl win though. She's so pretty. It would have been worth watching the second task just to see her in a swimming suit."

"Rabastan."

"What's the matter?" Rabastan laughed. "She's of age. The Delacours aren't a bad family either. I hope she's making it."

"I don't think she's got much of a chance," I answered. "She's in last place. And you should never go by looks alone. She's part Veela and they're way more than just pretty."

Rabastan laughed again. "You would know, wouldn't you? About pretty women I mean."

I couldn't think of a good response.

Rabastan probably thought so, he had known me for quite a few years after all. "Did you see anything else?"

"Plenty of stuff about Potter's Mudblood friend and its love life," I said. "As if anyone cared."

"Oh yeah, saw that too. Not bad, but she's no Lily Evans. And she's fourteen. Really doubt she's having such an illustrious lifestyle."

"You never know with Mudbloods."

"Well, that's true of course. There's something much more interesting though. This story about Crouch. Have you seen it?"

"Yes."

The former head of Magical-Law-Enforcement had been ill for a while and the press was speculating if something serious was the matter. "Don't really care about his health though."

"I think we should. There's something very odd about this. It's only a feeling but still," said Rabastan.

Usually, I wasn't one of those people who put much trust in feelings, but Rabastan's feelings often turn out to be surprisingly accurate. Maybe he was right.

Crouch's son had been a Death Eater himself, joined right after school. He had accompanied us to the Longbottoms, but the drawn-out torture had been too much for him. He had completely lost his nerves, made a complete fool of himself at the trial and died only a year later.

It was a pity, he'd been a talented boy, but it was his own fault. I had warned him but he didn't want to listen. Nothing anyone could do. I wasn't going to attack a fellow Death Eater with the Imperius curse.

Rabastan cursed. "The vermin in here's getting worse," he said. "Something bit me."

Before I could say anything about that, another voice cut through the silence. "It's back. The Dark Mark. It is back!" The voice belonged to Bellatrix.

Now I felt a slight burning sensation at my arm as well. I checked it in the candle light. Indeed, the tattooed skull and snake symbol was visible again.

"He's back. I've always known he'd return", called Bellatrix ecstatically

"My apologies", whispered Rabastan. "I thought of vermin when the Dark Lord called." He didn't sound too embarrassed.

I never admitted it, not even to myself, but I had long since lost my faith in the Dark Lord's return. I had somehow grown used to the life within these walls. Now, I know I should be glad, but my feelings were closer to indifference. That must be the influence of the Dementors. It's impossible to feel happiness in here after all.

"The Dark Lord's calling", Bellatrix shouted. "And we can't go." She sounded quite worried.

I walked over to the other side of the cell. "He knows that we're in here. The Dark Lord always knows. He's not going to punish us", I told her.

It took a while until she believed me.

At least, now I knew that she was still sane enough to know what was happening around her. She'd reacted to the Dark Lord's call right away.

My attempts to talk to her had never yielded such results.