Azkaban at Night
Prompt: Wild waves wreck wretchedly against a rocky shore.
Disclaimer: I'm flattered that you think I own Harry Potter. However, if you wish to speak with she who does, I must direct you across the ocean. In simpler words, Me no own Harry Potter.
EDIT: This chapter has been revised a little. Mostly fixing mistakes of any and all sort.
Wild waves wreck wretchedly against a rocky shore. A tall building spirals into the darkening clouds and even darker sky. The building is as twisted as those who inhabit it, and pieces poke out at the oddest angles. Much like the Burrow, the building seems to be held up by magic. However rather than the magic of love and family, this building seems to be held up by hate and evil; the justice that once held the building up long gone.
The only way onto the dank and depressing island is a small decrepit boat. Yet somehow, someway, the lady standing on the shore completely bypassed it, for the old boat is still floating in its rotten dock. She walks silently across the sandy shore towards the building, contemplating what she is about to do. She shudders at the sight of the foul building, knowing exactly what unspeakable acts have occurred there.
She pauses at the doorway to the take a deep breath, noting the irony of there being no Auror. And they think no one can break out of here?
"1..." she whispers. The door creaks ominously as it opens.
"2..." She begins to climb the winding staircase that leads to the highest floor, the purported "High Security" floor. Apparently high security means heaps of dementors, all for what? 10 cells?
"3..." Slowly she makes her way up the stairs. The candles do nothing for the dark and gloomy atmosphere. They really need an interior decorator, she notes with amusement.
"4..." Finally, the lady reaches the top. She looks for a specific door. She smirks at how easy it is to break a prisoner out of Azkaban. No wonder Barty Crouch got away with it. Reaching the door she was looking for, she pushes on it.
The door gives way silently, revealing a small cell. Leaning in to the cell, she whispers a handful of words. She turns and leaves the door open a fraction, just enough so that any guard would think it closed.
As silently as she came, she leaves. Not a single trace of her having been there is left behind, except for a small magical signature and…
"FREEDOM!" a hoarse voices screams into the night. That yell was the result of weeks worth of planning and months worth of preparation. That same yell would change the course of history forever, erasing a painful future where death and destruction is more common than a cold. This night marked the beginning of the end for one old man, and a new beginning for one young child, a child that now had a chance at a normal life.