A/n: Just a quick comment. I'm working on the basis that Dolohov grew up in Russia, but went to Hogwarts for school. The Russian is taken from google translate so if it's wrong I'm really sorry. And that's about it. Other than, of course, I don't own Harry Potter. Otherwise it would all be about the Weasley family.

I Do Not Want To Go

"I don't want to go." He was a dark haired child, clutching at his mother's skirts. "Mother please."

She gently removed his arms from her legs, and knelt down so that she could look her son in the eyes. She stroked his hair, taking care not to muss the carefully placed parting. "Antonin. It will be fun. It's only for a month and then you'll be home."

"But-" He trembled, tears forming in his dark eyes.

"Shh." She hugged him for a moment. "You father will shout, and you want to make me proud, don't you?"

He nodded, visibly trying to pull himself together. "Yes."

She placed a kiss on his cheek. "It will be fun. You'll come back and be a perfect gentleman. It will be fun."

"I don't wish to go." He was eleven, standing proud in his suit. "I don't care to go to a foreign land for school. Especially England."

"I don't care for your attitude, boy." His father was imposing; tall, broad, still as formidable as when he was a young man. "You will go because I say you will go."

"Mother would not have made me go," the boy muttered churlishly.

"Your mother is dead," Dolohov Senior snapped. "And as such has no power over your life."

The boy scowled but nodded. "Of course."

"I expect you to make a good impression," his father cautioned. "If I hear of anything that reflects on this family or this country badly, I swear to you that you will regret it."

The boy merely nodded again. "Of coursefather."

"No! Don't send me back there." His cry was terrified as he clutched at the bars that separated him from an uncaring judge. The chains were pulling him back, back to that Hell. "No. You can't do this! I swear, I didn't- I would never!"

The judge rose to peer at him through half-moon glasses. "You tortured and murdered countless people, including Fabian and Gideon Prewett. There is incontrovertible proof and it is only now, after a month in Azkaban, that you protest your innocence. It is clear to this court that you are guilty, and as such, your appeal is overturned and you will serve the rest of your life sentence in Azkaban."

"No. Milost'. Please. I- Pozhaluista, please." As he was dragged from the courtroom, Dolohov broke down. His tears were pathetic, but no-one was moved.

I don't want to go. A grown man now, he was only thinking these words. These thoughts were treacherous, were betrayal to everything he had believed in since his years at Hogwarts. He could not back out. In truth, he believed in his Lord; he believed that they would win; but he had already been bested by a seventeen-year-old mudblood. If it were to happen again, he didn't think he would ever feel proud of himself ever again. He was sure that this battle would always be remembered, no matter which side won. He didn't want to go down in history as the death eater who was killed by a mudblood.

"I will not go back," he spat, at the one who had come to arrest him. "I will not go back to that stinking hell hole to count the endless days until I die. I will not." He laughed slightly. "I will never go anywhere, ever again." Then he turned his wand upon himself.

Fin

A/n: Milost' means mercy and Pozhaluista means please.

Thanks for reading.