: Four Stone Walls :
Disclaimer: I own nothing but the Packard Bell that I write upon.
A/N: This story is somewhat unfinished. I haven't written in a long while and I thought I'd see how well this went down first. This is the introduction to the first chapter. It IS TO BE CONTINUED IF COMMENTS ARE FAVOURABLE. Criticism is always welcome. Flamers need a hobby . This story was in collaboration with a friend who is yet to join .
Summary: The sea churns, and the wind screams in anguish, the rocks... always silent. He, however, is there for a purpose and no one will stop him.
He tightened his vice like grip on the protesting broom as he urged the aging device against the howling wind. Clouds spat at him and the droplets seeped through his robes to prickle against his pallid skin. Through the sheets of icy rain loomed the gargantuan structure of Azkaban rising up out of the black and heaving sea which broke around its traingular shape. It was a ship dead in the crushing waves and all its occupants willed it to sail. Never would that day come.
Snape's lip curled as he saw circling this immobile hulk the dirty grey streaks of the dementors. The windswept potions master landed smoothly though unsteadly on the impregnable and slick rock of Azkaban's roof which sparkled malevolently by the light of his wand. Making his was to the edge of the roof Snape glanced uneasily below where the tumultous sea could only be heard; It deafened him. Cold icy fingers crept down his spine as one of the circling dementors hovered near him, its filthy robes weightless in the cruel wind. Snape held his wand tightly aiming it threateningly at the dementor which rejoined its brethren with a ear piercing shreak. Tapping the greasy rock with his wand, steps of the same black mineral ground slowly out of the wall leading a perilous course downwards. Leaving his broom to hover patiently at the top of the stairs he made his way cautiously down the narrow walkway. He silently cursed the thin strands of oily hair that whipped against his face as his he floated grimly along the rockface of the prison. After an interminable distance down the glassy steps Snape, by now feeling somewhat dizzy, felt a subtle change in the cobbled wall despite the glittering stairway continuing into the inky darkness
Stumbling in from the harsh weather outside the wizard was met by the smell of the rotting hay that served as carpetting for the entry chamber. Behind him the gaping hole in the wall reformed in an instant sealing out the wind reducing it to a faint wine, punctuated by the tormented screams and howls of Azkaban's occupants. Making no effort to conceal his disgust as he squelched through the decomposing matting to an equally filthy desk, Snape signed his name in the visitor's register his spidery handwriting bleeding into the damp and yellowed paper.
"I suppose you'll be wanting this?" he said producing his wand to the attendant at the desk whose face was completely concealed under the heavy hood of his robes. The attendant said nothing instead reaching for a slim black box lined with purple velvet. The wizard placed his wand carefully into the waiting box fixing the hooded man with a piercing stare. "You will take. care. of this." His only response was a faint wisp of steam from under the hood. Releasing the box to be placed delicately by the attendant in the rack behind him, Snape made his way down the dimly corridor towards the screams and groans that resonated throughout the prison.
He walked quickly down the cell lined corridors his heels clacking loudly on the filthy stone beneath his feet, to his trained nose the smell was almost unbearable, the only smell to rival that of the human waste was the smell of blood. Snape was pulled from his malodorous distractions when a gnarled pale hand shot from a nearby cell pulling him to the bars. Inside a pair of desperate eyes shone manically.
"You've come! You've come to free us! Us Death Eaters together!" Snape looked quickly back up the corridor where he could make out the inqusitive shape of the attendant. Snape's dark eyes flashed as he wrenched the prisoners hand off his robes feeling the madman's wrist crack under his wirey strength. He continued on his way quickly the furious cries of pain and abuse echoing after him.
The now decidedly unharassed wizard continued running this particular gauntlet of pleads, rambling tales and profanity until he reached the penultimate cell of the corridor. Reaching for one of the guttering lanterns off the wall he held it through the bars letting its yellow light bathe the dank cell. Huddled in the corner, his once flowing blonde hair matted about his shoulders, was Lucius Malfoy.
"Quite the turn around we have here, somehow I doubt you usually keep these type of lodgings."
Malfoy squinted towards the light shielding his eyes weakly.
"Serverus. How nice of you to come."
: TBC :
A/N: A continuation will follow if enough comments are positive about the story. Be nice ;;
