He hadn't done anything wrong. Just followed his heart. Well maybe to the eyes of others that was wrong. Killing someone is never good, but that was what needed to happen. Kill or be killed. What would any sensible person chose? Now he is locked up. His freedom taken from him. For surviving in a world which there was so much hate and lust for power. There was no right, no wrong. You either kill muggle borns or purebloods. Isn't it all the same?
So here he is. Locked up in Azkaban. The dementors surrounding him… they drowned him in bad memories. He's been there well over two weeks. Well that's what he thinks. Days blend when you're in this hell whole; he's actually been there just under a year. He's spent most of his time in memories, of his past, of his family, of the death of the man that he killed. His crying and screaming mixed with other cries. He was so alone but yet the screams of others kept him company.
Flash, his father smiling at him warmly. His last happy memory. The last time he saw his father. He was only a year old. He watched it being sucked away from him by the dementors. Flash, the green light taking the life away from his father. Flash, his aunt, a cruel woman, watches him slave over a large meal. She laughs cruelly when he burns his arm on the stove. He's only eight; he can barely even reach the stove.
He cries as he watches them. The memories that haunted his dreams before he even came to Azkaban. The only difference was that now they never left him. He was constantly haunted by these memories. He was being driven insane. His nails, which had grown since his stay, scratched down the walls as he screamed. The sound of his nails on the walls and his screams went on throughout the night, until his final breath was taken from him. The last happy memory pulled away from him, the last of his sanity, the last of his life… he was no longer…
--
People stood around the grave... No one really knew him. Only his best friend shed tears for him. His only friend. People ignored the crying man though. They were here to watch the prisoner's funeral. Not that they believed he deserved it. Most wanted to throw him into a ditch and leave him, many wanted to chop him in small pieces and feed him to the dogs and others wished he were alive so they could kill him the most painful way possible. Could they really find one a painful as watching your sanity leave you? To drag your bleeding fingers across the walls of Azkaban? No, they probably couldn't.
Here lies Blaise Zambini,
Traitor to the side of the dark,
Killer of Voldermot.
The last of the deatheaters spat on Blaise's grave while Draco quietly cried for his friend. They were then escorted back to there cells. The aurors believed that Blaise had only killed out of spite rather than for the side of the light. As soon as they found the boy by Voldermort they locked him up with no trial. Some people were no better than Voldermort himself…
--
A small pop echoed around the small graveyard. Harry Potter walked through the gates of the graveyard He found what he was looking for. He walked slowly up to the grave he wanted. He placed a single white lily over Blaise's grave.
"Thank you Blaise… for saving me from the insanity…" He turned to walk back to the gates. Once he reached the gates he turned and whispered. "I'm sorry…" A tear slipped gently down his cheek as he closed the gate behind him.
A/n Once again I'm writing a one shot. A short one shot at that. In my opinion it's not that good either. Sorry… It just came into my head now. Please review and tell me what you think though.