A.N This will turn into a story in the near future, when I've finished the other stories. I just want to know what people think so far, even though it's very short.
Prologue.
It's always raining.
A cold, wet drizzle all the time.
It's a cold place, as well, so it suits the rain. The air suffocates you, and you pray today is the day your life will end. Memories of people haunt this place, their screams mixing with the screams of this place's current victims.
A victim isn't the name I'd normally use. Murderers, arsonists, death eaters, rapists are a few of the better known names, but tonight I call them victims. Why? Because tonight something's going to happen.
We can tell.
Yes, we. Who would have known that I would be here too, listening and watching these people go mad, hoping that I'll stay sane, although at the moment the prospect's not bright. The more bad memories you have, the quicker you'll turn. I'm surprised I've lasted a year.
Who would have known it wasn't my fault?
Who would have known I had no choice?
Who would have known that Hermione Granger, 17, would, at this very moment, be rotting in Azkaban?