This is wrtten for the HSoWW(C&A) Forum!
Assignment 8- Defense Against The Dark Arts.
Task 2: Write about someone being tormented.
BP: Oliver Wood, Azkaban.
WC: 549
Oliver Wood woke up on another cold, dreary day. He did not want to get up, did not want to fathom another day here at Azkaban, Wizarding Britain's prison. But, he had no choice. The Death Eaters had won; Voldemort had won. And, instead of killing everyone on the opposing side, he set up monthly games for the prisoners to play.
Today, luckily was not time for the games, it wasn't time for anything. Oliver still had to wake up though, to be on his guard. He watched as his meal was slid under the door; some grey goop piled low, and a small jug of dirty water. He ate in silence, imagining he was eating his favourite meal; shepherd's pie with pumpkin juice.
After he was finished, he slid the tray back under the door, and settled back against his mat. He carefully laid his head on the wet stone wall, letting his thoughts over-run him. He ached for the rush of wind on his face, the smooth expanse of wood under his hands, he just wanted to fly.
Lost in his thoughts, he didn't notice the dim lights flickering, but, he noticed when he was submerged in pitch black darkness. He didn't dare move, in case he slipped in the puddles on the floor. Everything was silent, he didn't hear the normal sobbing and screaming that accompanied these walls.
Oliver knew something was happening. He heard the large metal doors creaking open, exposing their inhabitants to whatever laid outside. He tried as hard as he could to keep in the innermost corner of his dank cell, he didn't succeed. He felt another presence enter through the wide doorway, gliding over the water on the ground. He felt the biting chill in the air, cloaking him in despair all the way to his core.
All of his worst memories were being played over and over. His muggle father leaving after hurting his mother, calling Oliver nothing but, 'worthless scum that would never amount to nothing.' Oliver falling off of a broom, only to break his arm. Arriving at Hogwarts, only to be treated with nothing but contempt. His first game, where he got hit in the face with a bludger.
He saw his home get raided with Death Eaters, his mother giving her life to give him a chance to escape. He saw his life at various safe houses, barely any food and people coming back beaten or dead from raidings and attacks. He saw the war, his fellow classmates falling dead at the battle. He watched as all the people who he had ever loved either cross-over or be carted off to Azkaban. He heard every scream, every tormented sound that he had through his cell reverberating in his eardrums.
Oliver welcomed death, but he never came. He would not be free today. He saw the Dementor pull down his hood, its ghastly mouth opening wide over his own. He saw the shimmering pieces of his translucent soul glide past his teeth, down the neverending throat of the creature before him. Then, he went blank. His life played like a movie over and over before his eyes, and he didn't care anymore.
When he lost his soul, he lost everything. Finally, death welcomed him with open arms.