Bellatrix Lestrange; A true story.
Azkaban the name makes most tremble and quake in fear, not me, not Bellatrix Lestrange. Ha! Azkaban should be afraid of me! The judge seems smug at my sentence, I stare at him cold and defiant I see how it dampens his pleasure and smile because of it. Tom would be proud to know that even when trapped by Mudbloods I was causing discomfort to his enemies.
As I enter Azkaban I can already sense the Dementors tugging at whatever hope or happiness I may have. The place was physically and emotionally a prison. It was designed especially to strike fear and helplessness into its prisoners. I despised how the Dementors were emphasised at every angle. I remember reading that in their natural habitat a Dementor clothes itself in delicious black rags, torn and hazardous filled with thorns and spikes. Here the Dementors now wore similar colours but instead of the rags torn from natural rage and affliction; the creature wore black robes, torn in some fashion but were the rips ended was a sequence of golden and mauve stiches. As it walked past , a tall figure wearing brown robes gives the Dementor a salute. I know now that these creatures of terror are not only respected here but supported, whether out of fear or out of opinion. Something was wrong here. Even the floors are glass meaning the Dementors can glance up at you every so often. See Wizards are clever like that, if a prisoner loses the will to live, then there's no need for them to escape. Azkaban becomes just a place to waste away and die in for prisoners- that is apart from me. Tom wouldn't let Mudbloods get him down, however Tom wouldn't let Mudbloods catch him. Nah, I'll wait a while then make my move. A guard, human by the look, roughly pushes me towards my cell. I sneer at him; I won't be looked down upon by a filthy half-breed such as him. Holding my head up high I snarl "Did you not hear? This is a pure-blood cell" He says nothing, just raises his eyebrows and locks the door. Sitting down I sigh; I wonder what Tom would do in this situation.
I met Tom when I was just a child, then we were friends and he was 'just Tom'. However Riddle always lived as a credit to his name, he was always so full of mysteries….
Looking across the cold, grey room I confess, out of all the places I've been this has to be the worst. I don't know whether it's just the Dementors but I swear, I can feel the despair of a thousand souls screaming at me through the dark walls of my cell. A small child waves at me from across the room, brown eyes and fair face, like a small, slight woodland creature. She must be at least eleven. I've always loved children, pure-blood children….. What is a child doing in Azkaban? No creature that small can truly deserve to be in here. She creeps forward and in a small voice she says "Hello, I am Isabelle Delacour." I could tell she was trying to be brave, I understand that at least from what my mother told me Azkaban is full of nasty people. I guess in that sense I'm in the right place….. I smile at that and look pointedly at her, we might both be here but as long as I'm in this cell, I'm in charge. Luckily the poor child seems to be willing to consort. However I like the look of this kid. "Why are you here?" she says, suspicion and fear has been drilled into this child. I smile and say "I could say the same about you". Isabelle looks down at the glass floor "The Ministry t-took my mother and sent her to the Dementors" she says her voice a helpless whisper in the darkness, like a pillow, rather than a shield on the battlefield. "Why would they do that?" I murmur shaking my head.
