Any recognized content belongs to the wonderful J.K Rowling. Original characters referenced in the fiction belong to me. The rating is subject to change. I would love to hear your opinions on this story, and I hope to hear from you all. -Sky~
It is better to light a candle than curse the darkness.-Eleanor Roosevelt
At the furthest side of the dreary prison, where the cells had begun to be encased in individual rooms, and the psychotic screams had been replaced with silence, guards had been disbanded. Not from the entire prison, or even the entire section, but from one, singular room. The decision to do this was laced with uncertainty, but still, the guards were removed. However, even with the Dementors gone, the scent of decay and near overwhelming sense of despair still clung to the air.
A pair of men entered the room with a furious flutter of robes. They represented a stark contrast between light and dark, in both clothing and expression. One wore the expression of peaceful calm, while the other's face was a mask, devoid of expression, but the very air around him seemed alight with acrimony.
The room they entered was only a mere section of space before bars blocked their path, turning the remaining space into a cell. Light barely reached this place, as the moon outside was blocked by a constant wash of storm clouds, and only a single flickering lantern was left in the corner furthest from the cell.
There was a small squeak, and a rustle of cloth before a tiny voice slithered in over the silence.
"Well, what a lovely surprise this is." The voice belonged to a woman, and though it was raspy from lack of use, a hint of sarcasm still rolled through every syllable.
They could not see her in the darkness, though the patter of feet against concrete suggested the she was pacing in wait of response.
"A surprise? My dear Clara, I would have thought you'd seen me coming by now." The eldest of the pair spoke first, looking over his half-moon glasses at the black space in front of him. The woman had yet to come into the light.
"Don't speak to me as if you are alone, Albus Dumbledore. I am not surprised to see you. But your company..." Her voice tapered off in the end, weary and confused., where it had been confident only moments ago.
"Who is with you?" she continued, stepping into the light, where he could finally see her. Remembering her as a young woman, he was struck by the change that had befallen her in the years since her imprisonment.
She'd been beautiful once, but now in the dank recesses of Azkaban, her beauty had all but disappeared. Her skin was pallid and waxen, nearly transparent, stretching over her bones, appearing gaunt and skeleton like. The mass of thick, dark curls that had once bounced opulently around her thin frame were now matted and dull. In the limited light of the room, the woman looked more dead than alive.
The only thing that had not changed was the intensity of her heavily lidded blue eyes. They stared back at him through the cell bars, frozen and calculating.
"It is Severus, Severus Snape."
"Well…" she chuckled breathily, "Perhaps this isn't a surprise at all. You've done better for yourself then the rest of us have Severus." She purred, sickeningly sweet in tone, finally regaining her voice.
She watched his black eyes as they followed her, trained on her like a hound on a scent trail. This particular hound looked vicious, that was, until she said something that caught him off guard.
"I always knew you were better then us." His eyes flashed with surprise before turning cold again, never leaving hers but she had managed to keep the hound at bay.
She disappeared back into the cell with those words, back to whatever perch she had chosen in the dark. There eyes could not find hers.
"How can I help you Headmaster? Can I tell you your fortune? Or perhaps you'd like a weather forecast?" She laughed wickedly, before rolling from her spot in the shadows to appear in front of them. They were caught off guard by the sudden appearance of blue eyes, wide and unblinking, watching them through the cell bars.
"Or, You could tell me why I'm here" Dumbledore said kindly, waiting for a change in posture, or voice. There was none.
"You should know that my visions don't work like that headmaster," She scolded impishly, "I see nothing but what effects me, and even less if the effect is undecided, so I ask again: Why are you here?" The playfulness left her voice, and nothing shined in her eyes except for suspicion and weariness. The woman's mood had shifted so drastically in the short time they were here, making it blatantly obvious that any sanity she had once possessed had disappeared, or was well on its way out.
"Well, I have a small…proposition for you." Albus smiled at her, but beside him, Severus continued to glare, black eyes glowing with fierce hatred. Clara cackled, her mouth opening into a slight, stained smile.
"Well, what might that be? I see the future dear, but I cannot see it on will. You will have to actually speak." She cackled again, leaning against the bars lazily, dirty, cracked fingernails digging into the bars.
Her sanity truly was lessening in this madhouse of a prison. Severus had known her, not well, but he knew that once, she had been level headed, calm, and calculating; vicious at times, and devastatingly cruel to some, but she had been sane.
Now, with her cackling, wicked laughter and her hollow voice, it could not be heard. Her blue eyes where wild, and her appearance ragged, so it could not be seen either. Severus examined her now that she had chosen to remain in the light. She eyed him jealously, and then she eyed Dumbledore with reverence, and confusion.
"What if I could let you out of here? What if you could do something to help, instead of hurt? Would you do it?" Dumbledore asked gently. Clearly he saw something that Severus didn't. Severus couldn't see the longing in her eyes. He didn't hear the regret that Dumbledore had claimed to hear the few times he had seen her before.
"What you speak of is impossible Headmaster. There is no way. I have seen you contemplate this idea many times, but even you, yourself are not sure that it would work." She whispered carefully, dropping her gaze and stepping back into darkness.
In her visions, she'd watched Dumbledore mull over his idea. She'd watched his mind change, as he interpreted various possibilities and outcomes, but not once had he truly settled on the idea. Yet here he stood in front of her, proposing it anyway.
"But you must admit that this plan…this idea could do great things for you Clara."
Albus spoke, keeping his tone kind, and his voice steady. He watched her carefully as she strayed back into the light. Her eyes were alight with curiosity, and her face had contorted with desire for his words to come true.
"Just tell me what you need me to do." She murmured, once again wrapping her hands around the cell bars. Clara was hesitant. What Albus was proposing, and what he had considered was dangerous, preposterous, and improbable by all standards. Still, she watched him as he spoke, her eyes alight with careful enthusiasm as he told her his plan for the future.