Chapter 4: Of Rumours and Treachery

4 Years To Go

My spirits had lightened slightly over the last few years. Rumours of the Dark Lord were all over the Daily Prophet;

"DEFENCE AGAINST THE DARK ARTS TEACHER FOUND DEAD"

"BASILISK AT HOGWARTS?"

"VOLDEMORT SUPPORTER ESCAPES FROM AZKABAN."

I had sighed and thrown the newspaper to one side at the last article. Sirius Black had never been a Voldemort supporter and he never would be. He kept muttering, "He's at Hogwarts..." in his sleep. I didn't have a clue how he escaped. It happened in the middle of the night and when the prison awoke he was gone. The Dementors were far angrier than usual and even the most insane prisoners yelped a little quieter.

I was trying to escape to another beautiful childhood memory when there was a tapping on the bars next to my cell. I opened my eyes and turned to my right. A scruffy man with a small ponytail was tapping his index finger on the bar, with an almost happy look on his face.

"What do you want, Mulciber?" I asked, with a clearly annoyed expression on my face. Mulciber seemed not to notice this blatant display of emotion and began.

"He's coming back." he said, his smile widening.

"Who? Sirius Black? Why the hell would he come back to this dump?"

"No' Sirius Black, mate." Mulciber looked around to check if anybody was listening and then he almost whispered, "The Dark Lord."

I stared at him and then started laughing at him. He stared at me, dumbstruck and then shook with anger as my laughter became louder and less contained.

" S'not funny! He's going to break us all out and kill that bastard 'arry Potter. Someone's got a plan to kill 'im and the Dark Lord to his righ'ful place."

I chocked back my laughter and replied, "Oh, please. Remember that old lady who said she spotted Voldemort possesing her toast? Or the man who 'could've sworn' the caretaker at the Leaky Cauldron didn't have a nose? Besides, how would they get out of here? Dementor patrols round the clock and a Magic Cancellation Charm. Nobody is getting in or out."

As I finished my sentence, two Dementors came gliding down the corridor, carrying a man that I recognised as none other than Barty Crouch Junior.

"Oh, look." said Mulciber, pointing at the procession. " 'E's finally snuffed it. Minister came to visit late at night a while ago with his wife. Coudn't see what they were doing probably though. Barty 'as one of those walled cells for the really messed-up people."

I gave a simple, "Hmmm." as Barty was marched past. Didn't he used to have a beard? And shorter hair? I shifted away from Mulciber and sat in thought for a while. The Dark Lord was returning, according to Mulciber. I was still sceptical but wary nevertheless. If he was back, I would be forced to serve him. Forced to do whatever he told me to. I'd have to lick his foot if he asked me to. And all because of my stupid ten-year-old promise to him. All because of that invisible force dragging me down. I closed my eyes once again to relive that fateful day.

There it was again. The blissful feeling of weightlessness before almost certain death. And there was the black figure. The Dark Lord himself. But something glitched inside my head. A door opened that should never have been opened. There was an extra voice this time, more of his snake-like tone.

"The boy shows spirit. He will be of use. Incarcerous."

Then that dragging feeling but this time the force weren't invisible. Tight ropes had wound themselves around me and were dragging me down. Voldemort's plan all along.

I gasped as my eyes opened again to the dark prison. Mulciber was snoring soundly and a few Dementors drifted up and down the corridor. But I cared not for these trivial background elements. The Dark Lord had intended to trick me all along. From when I was ten. But why? Why not leave the frail, sickly child to die in the murky depths of the lake? Why save him and bind him to your will? These questions plauged my mind as I slowly drifted into an unsettled sleep.