The fear took over, her body shaking uncontrollably. Sounds became muffled against the roaring in her ears, those damning words replaying in her mind. She wanted to wake up from this nightmare. Those words, had sealed her fate.
Daphne Iris Greengrass, the Wizengamot has passed judgement. We find you guilty of aiding known Death Eaters, conspiring against the Ministry, use of Unforgivables on minors, and taking the Mark of the Dark Lord, known as Voldemort, known as Tom Riddle Jr. As you are a minor, the Wizengamot shall be lenient so you may learn from your mistakes, rejoining our society a reformed citizen. Punishment for your crimes will be two years served in Azkaban, and a probationary period of five years having your wand monitored. Visitation will be permitted at pre-authorized locations under supervision of pre-authorized personnel. Please take the defendant into custody and transport her immediately to Azkaban.
With a simple dismissal, she was condemned. She scanned the courtroom, eyes wide in disbelief as an Auror took her by the arm, leading her away. It all happened so fast. She supposed they wanted to make an example, show the public they had everything under control, sentencing everyone with the Mark, regardless of how willingly. It didn't matter if they had actually done anything after receiving it. Bearing the snake and skull was a one-way ticket to Azkaban.
Magical parents told their children horror stories about the place- about the murderers and psychopaths locked behind its walls. It was a scare tactic to get small children to behave. Daphne couldn't help replaying the tales she could remember, wondering if she would become one herself, frightening children as she slowly lost her mind.
She forced herself out of her thoughts as she felt herself propelled forward again, walking down a dingy hallway with only one door at the end. Daphne swallowed the bile that rose as her fear returned full force, suffocating her, threatening to overwhelm. The only thing keeping her upright and moving was the firm grip on her arms, the Aurors sensing her trepidation, forcing her onward.
The room on the other side of the door was just as depressing as the hall. Apparently, the Ministry felt no need for regular maintenance. She couldn't blame them, they were convicted felons after all, best get used to the conditions.
The Auror on her left suddenly released her, walking towards a cabinet set against the wall. Daphne was sure one solid kick would make the whole thing buckle. He came back carrying a faded, well worn bundle.
"The prisoner will change into regulation attire behind the screen," pointing to the corner of the room where a rickety screen was propped up, "and relinquish any and all personal items including her wand."
She accepted the bundle with numb fingers and stiffly walked behind the thin screen. As each layer of her clothing was stripped away, Daphne felt as if another layer of herself was falling to the floor, joining the lifeless heap. Her mother would have visibly cringed at her carelessness, but Daphne could hardly bring herself to care. The expensive clothes, once protecting her like armor, now lay haphazardly on the dirty floor, a visible representation of her life. She wouldn't see them, or anything, but cold, stone walls for the next two years.
The rough fabric scratched her skin as she pulled it over her head. It was more sack than dress. It was clean, for now, but terribly worn. She spotted a few holes, and thin spots that had been clumsily patched. The Ministry was definitely not wasting their precious Galleons on criminals. No, this was a punishment, right down to the uniform. Even the shoes were threadbare.
She snatched up her own clothes, not even bothering to fold them. A tiny part of her brain, that sounded eerily like her mother, screamed at her to treat her clothes properly, folding them nicely, ensuring they were stored carefully. Daphne tuned out the tiny voice, the rest of her mind only half-functioning, dazedly going through the motions automatically, without much thought.
When she moved around the screen, there was a box sitting on a small table, Aurors waiting for her on either side.
"The prisoner will place all personal effects inside the box, including her wand, then seal it, reopening upon release."
She stepped up to the table, placing her clothes in the black confines. Her diamond stud earrings and necklace followed. When it came time for her wand, she hesitated, wondering what they would do if she fought back and ran. Her parents had been fond of traveling; she could comfortably live abroad. Disappear completely. Live a quiet life where no one knew who she was in the slightest. Maybe fall in love, have a family. Someplace far away where the past couldn't follow.
No, the past, no matter how deep you buried it, always resurfaced. There would be no running, no escaping the inevitable. Besides, these were trained Aurors, not terrified children.
There was a distinct disconnect as she reached forward and placed her wand in the box. She watched, without really seeing, as the lid was closed. Like a casket. Her old life, closed away, buried, forgotten. Her things would probably be as worn and tired as she. A small flicker of vanity had her wondering if her clothes would even fit her by the time she was released. It didn't last long. It wouldn't matter if they didn't. She would have nowhere to go, no one waiting, when her time was up.
A small puff of air escaped as the box sealed, a soft sigh. A sound of resignation as her life disappeared; of defeat as she accepted the inevitable; of grief, shaky and uncertain, as her eyes stung. She may have been completely stripped of her life, dignity, and pride, but she would not cry here. Too many tears had already been shed over the last year. She refused to pass the next two the same way.
An Auror proceeded to grip her firmly, leading her from the room, exiting through a different door. The remaining Auror scooped up her box, her life, going back the way they had come. Without a wand, she probably didn't pose enough of a threat to warrant close attention.
There were more guards in the next room, as spread as they could get in the small confines. There was no furniture and no other doors. Standing by each guard, was another prisoner. This was it. The last place she would see before being stuck on that desolate rock.
The other prisoners seemed to be in a wide range of disbelief; eye contact was avoided. Some cried quietly, others openly wept or stared blankly at the floorboards. Daphne's eyes were drawn to the shock of familiar, pale, blond hair. How many times had she run her fingers through it while Draco sobbed? There was no sign of tears now. He looked drawn and hollow, unresponsive, staring blankly. There would be no comforting him now. She doubted the Aurors would let her speak to him.
Daphne's heart clenched further when she realized who was sobbing. Dear, sweet Theo, was curled in on himself, face hidden against his knees, his body shuddering, gasping for air. Theo, who never said a mean thing about anyone. Now, here he was, ready to be locked up, like a hardened criminal. All because their parents followed a psychopathic half-blood, who in the end, probably hadn't been completely human anymore.
There must have been a signal to the Aurors who simultaneously moved to the middle of the room. The one holding Theo upright produced a fine-tooth comb. Portkey. Daphne couldn't help make a face. She hated portkeys. She had never been able to land properly. Her mother never failed to comment every time she used the detestable things.
Her mother had been quick to acknowledge Daphne's flaws in any area, constantly compared to her younger sister. She was the whole reason Daphne found herself here, shipped off to Azkaban. She had submitted upon her mother's insistence. He required one of their children to be Marked. Daphne doubted there had been a second thought as to which daughter would be given. It would have looked dreadful on 'Stori's perfect skin. There was no question, even to Daphne. Regardless of the blatant favouritism, Daphne loved her sister. She would have done anything to protect her.
Daphne swallowed the lump in her throat, remembering the look on her mother's face as she was arrested, the words bouncing around her skull. It wasn't her mother's disgust that hurt most, but Astoria's confusion. She wasn't the brightest. They all protected her as much as possible from the darkness that consumed them.
Come Astoria, there's nothing more to be done for your sister. There's no saving such dark souls, aligning themselves with You-Know-Who. They must be locked away for their own good and ours. Society will be better off removing such abominations from amongst the innocent.
As if her mother hadn't offered her up on a silver platter. Remembering, she couldn't suppress an unlady-like snort, causing her Auror to give her a questioning look. She shook her head to dispel his curiosity. It wouldn't surprise her if she was already losing it. A two-faced mother would make anyone's head spin. Add the stress of submitting unwillingly, getting arrested, and now Azkaban, would have sent anyone to the Janus Thickey Ward.
"All prisoners will touch the portkey. Departure is in thirty seconds."
Right, the bloody portkey. Touching the comb, she nudged Draco beside her, urging him to move. There was no point in giving the Aurors an excuse to beat them. He still made no move toward the comb and Daphne wondered just how cognizant Draco was anymore. The fact he hadn't even acknowledged her standing there didn't bode well. Before the Aurors could note his hesitation, she grabbed his hand, placing it next to hers, trying to be as discreet as possible.
There was no countdown to steel herself against the nauseating tug behind her navel as everyone was pulled into the void. She lost her balance upon landing, crashing into Draco, the firm grip of the Aurors the only thing keeping them standing. Daphne mumbled an apology, but she doubted Draco had noticed the collision.
Once everyone was securely upright, all attention turned to their surroundings. They were in a small stone room not dissimilar to the one they had left, the most noticeable difference being the drastic temperature drop. Daphne tried to warm herself, arms wrapped around her body. This did not bode well. Even without the dementors, Azkaban was as terrifying and bone-chilling as she had imagined.
The group exited in pairs, one Auror and prisoner, into a comfortable, though still drafty, office. More processing. Daphne's thoughts wandered as she waited. Poor Theo was sobbing, if possible, even harder. Everything felt so surreal, she doubted it would really hit her until she was alone in her cell.
Everyone was quickly accounted for and cells assigned before dispersing in different directions. They wanted to avoid giving them any chance to communicate with one another. Daphne knew Theo's screams would haunt her nightmares. She hadn't heard how long her friends were sentenced, making her wonder what would be left upon their release.
The shaking in her body increased when they stopped. This was it. She could make out a cot with a thin blanket inside the cell, thanks to the dim lighting. Her cell. Her new home. She wouldn't see outside those walls for two years. The Auror pushed her forward, her feet refusing to move on their own.
Before she could turn back, the door shut, a deafening sound in the silence, the lock sliding, sealing her fate. Daphne stared at the closed door. Mind, completely silent. She stood, frozen, as her eyes adjusted to the darkness before turning her attention to the cot she remembered. She fumbled around before her fingers brushed the rough, thin fabric of her blanket. She stopped as she thought about the cleanliness of the place, but her trepidation didn't last. She couldn't afford to be a snob anymore. That Daphne died the moment that box sealed. This Daphne would do whatever needed to survive, including curling up on the cot covered in the damp blanket. Allowing the tears to come, she sobbed, knowing nobody would hear.
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Day 1 of incarceration
The light felt uncomfortably bright. There was no disorientation upon waking. The smell alone was confirmation enough. Her eyelids were heavy, having spent the night crying. She rolled to her side before opening her eyes.
Daphne looked around, noticing a small window set near the ceiling of her cell. Far too high for her to reach, but it was there, allowing in some sunlight. She had been sure she would be left alone in the dark. Sitting up, she heaved a sigh, glancing around the small cell. There wasn't much to look at, nothing besides her cot and blanket.
Daphne rested her head against the wall behind her, eyes closed once more. She had plenty of time to familiarize herself with her cell, but in that moment she couldn't bring herself to look at it.
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Day 21 of incarceration
Though it was clearly night outside, Daphne couldn't bring herself to sleep. It felt like that was all she did anymore. Sleep and wait for the bowl containing her meager meal of the day to appear. She couldn't bring herself to care about the bland taste anymore. Everything was bland. There were no colors, no sounds, nothing to break up the monotonous surroundings.
She had been marking the days off until her release against the wall using a rock she had found. Not because she was so looking forward to being out of that grey abyss, it was just something to do. Now in the dark she quietly lay on her cot, let her thoughts drift where they would. She started stroking the long, deep gouges in the stone wall, not for the first time, wondering what could have possibly made them, the isolation causing her thoughts to drift. Suddenly, her cell flooded with light.
Daphne shrieked as she sat up, the sudden light stinging her eyes and taking her completely by surprise. It faded behind her closed eyelids but didn't completely disappear. She didn't dare open them again until she heard someone cursing. There was someone in her cell. Her eyes flew open at the realization, desperately hoping she wasn't losing her mind already. She hadn't even been there a month!
Standing before her, the source of the glow, was a man. Squinting her eyes, she could tell he wasn't completely solid, though not as translucent as the ghosts at Hogwarts. Besides that, he appeared to be wearing a muggle jacket and jeans. There were enough half-bloods in Slytherin for her to recognize the items. He was clearly extremely upset about something, as he was still cursing.
"This is what I get for wanting a change of scenery. The universe officially hates me. It's not bad enough being stuck in limbo, oh no! I get to be stuck in limbo in this hell hole. As if I didn't spend enough time here already to last me a lifetime."
Daphne was completely speechless. It was official, she had lost all grip on reality. Rational minds didn't create random men to pop into existence. Especially ones so clearly upset about being there. Her subconscious had a sick sense of humor if this was what her mind supplied her when wanting company. Even insanity wasn't going to be the blessed escape from reality she had hoped it would be, apparently.
The man slowly turned in a circle, taking in the dingy cell, but stopped when he noticed her sitting there, huddled under her blankets. His eyes flicked momentarily to her hand, which she then realized was still tracing the gouges in the wall. She snatched her hand away, face reddening. She felt like a naughty child with her hand caught in the cookie jar.
For a moment, he stared at her. "Well, aren't you just the most unlucky sap. Hopefully you're out of here before you can go nutters, I suppose. Unless you're a mass murder. Then I hope you're stuck here forever."
Daphne couldn't help but crack a small smile. Maybe her subconscious wasn't completely out to destroy her after all. She shook her head in the negative, not completely trusting her voice after staying silent so long.
"Well, then, how long are you here for, sweetheart?" He really was adorable, once her eyes had adjusted to the light emitting from him. He was washed out, but she suspected the shoulder length hair would have been dark. A dimple appeared as he smirked at her. In another life, she knew he most definitely would have been trouble.
She held up two fingers in reply.
"Two years isn't all that bad, then. Better than twelve, I'll tell you that. What's your name anyway, darling?"
There was obviously no way for her to sign it to him, so she cleared her throat, painfully aware of how dry it was.
"Daphne," she croaked.
"Hello, Daphne, name's Sirius."
And just like that, he was gone, her cell once again plunged into darkness.
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Day 63 of incarceration.
She had sworn to herself she wouldn't touch them again. The man, Sirius, hadn't appeared again, concluding he had appeared because she had been touching the marks on the wall. It had only taken forty-two days for her resolve to crack. The silence was deafening and would surely drive her mad, if she wasn't already. She was desperate for an interaction of any kind at this point. She hadn't seen another soul in sixty-three days, by her marks. She needed something. Anything.
She sat cross-legged, facing the wall, trying to summon the courage to touch the marks. She was most definitely not a Gryffindor, but really, was there anything to be afraid of from some marks on the wall? It may not even work if he was, in fact, a figment of her imagination as she suspected.
Holding her breath, she extended her hand, allowing her fingers to carefully traces the lines. Nothing happened. She screwed up her face, trying to figure out what she possibly could have done differently, trying to remember every detail of her actions leading up to the man's appearance. She arranged herself so she was sitting in the exact same position, moving her fingers in the same fashion. Still nothing. Then she remembered how desperate she had been for some form of interaction with another person.
No sooner had the thought crossed her mind, then the cell was once again filled with light. She was a little more prepared this time, and squeezed her eyes shut as soon as she realized what was happening.
Sirius was there, just like before, only facing her. As soon as the light faded to a manageable level, she could see he was smiling at her, that weak-in-the-knees dimple on full display.
"Couldn't resist some alone time with Sirius Black, eh, sweetheart?"
Sirius Black! How had she not made that connection before? Suddenly this didn't seem like such a good idea. She remembered hearing the man had actually been innocent, was Harry Potter's Godfather, and had died years earlier. She doubted very much he would be so enthusiastic about their interactions if he ever caught sight of the Mark on her arm. She made sure her forearm wasn't in his sight. As much as she was terrified of how he would react when he saw it, she was far too desperate for company to give it up now.
His eyes once again fell to where her fingers were touching the wall, his eyes glazed over, a bitter chuckle on his lips. "I suppose it makes sense, now," he nodded to the marks, "Made those my first week here. Living with dementors, no happy memories left, desperation for reprieve consumed me. My magic forced me into my animagus form, weakened from emotional strain. I was crazy, thinking I could claw my way out. That obviously failed, seeing I spent twelve years locked away. You must be pretty desperate yourself for those markings to call me here. Loneliness is a hell of a thing, ain't it?"
Daphne scrambled for something to say in response, "The dementors have been removed from Azkaban." The sound of her voice reminded her of the old doors in the dungeons at Hogwarts, creaking on their hinges. Merlin, she would probably lose her voice completely if she didn't speak that whole time. Although, she'd probably go crazy before then and start talking to herself. She shuddered at the thought.
"Well, that's certainly an improvement, then. Not nearly as likely to go loopy without those soul suckers. So tell me, Daphne darling, what can ol' Sirius Black do for you, hm?" He came and sat on her cot, scooting until his back touched the wall, looking perfectly relaxed. Probably because the lucky bugger wasn't actually stuck here anymore.
Daphne shifted, bringing her knees up to her chest, arms wrapped around them, chin resting on top, careful to keep her forearm from his sight.
"Could we just...talk? Tell me something, anything you'd like. Just…Talk." She knew how needy she sounded but she couldn't bring herself to care.
Sirius gave her a knowing look, "Of course, love. I'll talk."
And talk he did. Daphne would occasionally ask a question for clarification, but she tried to refrain from interrupting. Every time he came back, she would sit and listen, letting his voice wash over her, relishing the sound of another human being as he told her about his life experiences, specifically his Hogwarts years. From the way his face lit up, she could tell those were his favourite stories to tell.
She learned a great deal about his friends, ashamed of herself for the way the Slytherins had treated Professor Lupin. It had strictly been actions based on fear, but she couldn't shake the guilt that bubbled up every time Sirius spoke of the werewolf.
She felt saddened whenever he spoke of Pettigrew; Sirius had clearly loved his friend. She couldn't imagine that kind of betrayal. His heartache sometimes would colour the story, leaving them both feeling pensive.
Sometimes, when he came, they simply sat. What they didn't do, was talk about her. She never divulged any information unless he asked a direct question. It wasn't that she didn't want to share, she was just afraid of his reaction when he found out she was a Marked Death Eater. He obviously had very strong opinions on the matter, and she refused to give up his company before she had to.
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Day 550 of incarceration.
When Sirius appeared, she could tell something was different. The way he held himself gave her the impression she wasn't going to like what he had to say, and that he wouldn't back down, either. She was proven right as soon as he spoke, settling himself on the cot.
"Daph, why don't you ever tell me about yourself? You, my dear, are a master at redirection. I already know you've probably done something less than praiseworthy. I mean, we are sitting in Azkaban after all, but you said yourself you aren't a mass murderer, so it really can't be all that bad."
She gulped. She had no idea how to redirect him from this line of questioning. Usually, she would ask a question about his Marauders and that would be enough, but this time… this time he was very determined to get some answers.
"I just- I dunno. I don't want you to hate me, I guess." She had no idea what to tell him. She had six months left and she knew she wouldn't make it if he refused to keep her company.
"Well, you are getting out of here soon, think of this as a practice run. There's going to be a lot of people out there who aren't going to like you when they see that number branded on your wrist." He gestured to her arm, once again wrapped around her knees. This had become her go-to position for their chats. It was the easiest way to make sure he wouldn't accidentally catch sight of the Mark.
She took a deep breath. "What if- what if I don't want the world to see me? I don't think they'd understand. Even if I explained myself, I've already been convicted. They wouldn't need anymore evidence against me." She was stalling, but Sirius had been so open with her, she knew she needed to return the favor.
"Come on, love, the world isn't that broken. There are still good people out there, you just need to find them, that's all." He seemed so confident. She envied him.
"Everything's made to be broken, Sirius. But I- I want you to know who I am." Slowly she uncurled her arms, allowing him to see. Her pale skin made the black Mark stand out even more. The cell was filled with a heavy silence as Sirius stared.
When she couldn't take the weight of it any longer she whispered, "It wasn't done willingly. I needed to save my sister." She couldn't bring herself to look him in the eye. Hadn't the same thing happened to his friend Peter? She already knew how he felt about that.
Finally, Daphne gathered her courage and looked up at him. There as a hardness to his face that hadn't been there before. He met her gaze head one.
"I see." That was all he said, before he disappeared.
It shouldn't have surprised her. Not when she knew exactly how he'd react, but that didn't stop her chest from constricting painfully. He left. Somehow, his leaving hurt even more than her own mother's rejection. Sirius had been her friend, and now he was gone. She lay down on her cot, too numb to even cry.
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Day 700 of incarceration.
Unmoving, she stared into nothing. Sirius had not returned since that night, no matter how much she pleaded, how much she cried. She had stopped bothering with food several days ago. What was the point? The only person outside of her housemates had abandoned her. If Sirius couldn't see past her Mark, nobody would. She very much doubted that Theo and Draco would be any kind of support once they were released. If she lived out the week, she would move away. Somewhere warm, where nobody knew her name. Where she could be free of this whole mess her life had become. Another tear trickled across her nose, disappearing into the lumpy cot beneath her.
Xxxxxxxxxxxxx
Day 729 of Incarceration.
She missed Sirius. She missed his laugh, how enthusiastic he got when telling a funny story, and that cursed dimple. She hugged her knees closer to her chest. Merlin, it still hurt so much. She slowly raised her hand, running her fingers over the grooves, for what felt like the millionth time. Not really expecting anything to happen. When there was no blinding light, she let her hand fall, a fresh wave of tears leaking out. She didn't have the energy to truly cry anymore. The tears fell silently now.
"Oh sweetheart, what have you done to yourself." She didn't even have the energy to roll over, convinced her broken heart was now playing tricks on her mind.
"Please, look at me, love." On second thought, even if she was hallucinating, who was she to deny herself the joy of seeing him one last time before she was thrust out into the world.
She rolled over. Sitting in his usual spot at the foot of the cot was Sirius. She had never seen him look so sad, her heart broke all over again.
"Sirius?"
He smiled, that thrice-damned dimple on full display.
"Hello, love. Miss me?"
She couldn't help it, she bawled.
Sirius tried to comfort her, but it was a futile task, considering he couldn't actually touch her. When she had finally quieted, she simply stared.
"You came back?" It was a question, not a statement. She couldn't believe he would return willingly, knowing her secret shame.
"I did. It took me awhile, and an angry redhead, but I came around. I like to think if I'd had the chance, one day I could forgive Reggi as well. He did what was necessary to keep his mum safe. I can respect that now."
She gave him a small, watery smile. This was far more than she ever imagined he would give her. Maybe, maybe there was a chance for a second life, after all, if he learned to look past the brand on her arm. Both of them.
She moved to sit next to him, leaning against the wall, resting her head on her knees, face turned towards him.
"Thank you Sirius."
"Anything for you, love."
They sat in comfortable silence, enjoying the company. Eventually, Sirius whispered, "I'd give up forever to touch you, 'cause I know that you feel me somehow. You're the closest to heaven that I'll ever be. I'll never truly leave you again, Daphne." And he disappeared.
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Day 730 of incarceration.
"Daphne Iris Greengrass, you have fulfilled the required time of your incarceration. The Ministry of Magic has seen fit to release you. Your personal belongings have been returned and your wand has been placed under surveillance via tracking charm. You are not required to stay in the British Isles, but expect us to be in contact. You are free to go."
Daphne drew comfort from the wand grasped loosely in her hand before taking a deep breath and stepped out into the light.