Chapter One:
Tick Tock Tick Tock... Seconds roll on by.
Inhale Exhale...repeat. Remember to breath.
As I sit here, staring at these white walls, I can hear the clock's tick and the rapid breathing of the tall slender woman that sat in front of me. She was short in stature but her wits made up for it. At first glance you would have thought she was a librarian, or a 3rd grade teacher, but she was far from it. Sure, her subtle attire geared you towards a friendly woman but when she spoke, the devil himself shivered.
"Are you going to tell me what happen that night?" She asked me as she straighten her glasses. I could tell that she was getting irritable. She wanted to get this interview over with, and my indirect answers was getting us nowhere.
"You're wasting time." She sighed.
I couldn't help but chuckle. Who was she fooling? "In case you haven't notice, I have all the time in the world."
Her exterior was the same, but I knew I hit a nerve. "What happen that night?"
This was getting nowhere. I flexed my fingers, these handcuffs was taking a toll on my soft skin. With a deep sigh, I lean forward. "Someone died."
She smiled. I guess sarcasm was a preference she liked. "I don't need to be here."
"I think you want to be here." I smirked. "I did my research, Pearson. You are not getting paid to be here, nor is it a requirement in your department. Every other day you make it your priority to be here. Why?" I asked, her face turning shades. I hit a nerve, it seems.
"You are quite the investigator, and here I thought that was my job." She got up, her heels clicking the cold floor.
Giving up...
"It is only a matter of time before the Dementors come, so tell me; Why?" She ask, looking in my eyes.
I didn't stir, I wasn't going to give her the satisfaction.
"Answer the question!" Her face was flushed. I could see her veins peaking as she quickly shoved sheets of paper under my nose. "This boy you continue to paint, who is he?"
How did she?
I jolted up, yearning to reach for her throat but the chains held my still. "Give that back! Get you're filthy hands off of my son!"
"He is not your son. You never had a son." She said, crumbling up the drawings. "Tell me why you killed those innocent people."
I was struggling to get out. I had to rescue my son. Save him from evil. Evil.
"Why did you kill them!"
"I had to! They were working with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named!" I yelled, my voice breaking.
"There is no such thing."
"Tom Riddle is the root of all evil!" I spat.
There was a knock at the cell door.
It is time.
I see the iron door open and in came Crouch.
Whispers.
If they are in front of me, or inside my head -I do not know.
"He is insane, no doubt."
"Yes, but can he..."
"Look at him Crouch, he is a wreck. He claims that Tom Riddle of all people is evil."
"What about the boy."
"His son, he says."
"Is there any proof."
"No records of Lily Evans being with child. He is completely obsess. Hundreds of paintings of this boy."
"Yes, I saw his file."
"Send them in."
I quickly looked up.
The end is near.
Its cold.
"Stand up." Crouch ordered me.
I did what I was told.
It wasn't long before I felt the chains release.
But I am not jumping for joy. No, this was not a joyous occasion.
"Can I take my son with me?"
My final request.
Soon, I found myself chained up again. This time, in the cold, damp basement of Azkaban.
"James Potter, you have been found guilty of the the torture of Alice and Frank Longbottom. The murder of Lily Evans, Susan Remur, …...
The names kept going. On and On. All Lies... That was the work of Tom Riddle...
Speak of the devil, and he shall appear.
Cold.
So Cold...
The dementors glided in. Two. Along with Tom Riddle, dressed in black long robes.
"James Potter." He spoke. "You are hereby sentenced to death by means of the Dementors Kiss."
His eyes peirced mines.
Was this the end?
Yes...
It had to be...
I'm shivering but also sweating. I can't breathe but my heart is racing. I could feel my life leaving me...
"This is my last warning!"
"Please, have mercy!"
"He's dead." Tom say's, checking James pulse.
The room began to change again. The dementors had retreated.
"It's so sad, really." Said Crouch.
"It's sick. He was sick. Obsess if you ask me. Obsess over a fantasy world."
"Let us not speak ill of the dead, even now." Spoke Tom, his chin high.
"He is finally dead. All of those innocent people and even his wife..."
They began walking eager to wash today's occasion away.
"Such a tragedy." Crouch said.
"What do we do now, Tom?"
"Do not fret, my children. All will be well."