You all have no idea how long I've been waiting to write this chapter!

I just heard the 'Norman Fucking Rockwell' album by Lana Del Ray and I'm in love. I'm gonna listen to all her albums cause she's just that amazing. Anyone have any suggestions on which order I should hear them in?

Also, how many of you saw the US Presidential debate? You don't realise how amazing it was until you compare it to the blandness of the Vice Presidential debate. I freaking lost it when Trump said, "No, you were on second point," when Biden accidentally skipped to the third point.

I don't know why some people said it was unbearable, I loved it! But maybe that's just cause I don't live in the US right now. I am an American citizen, I just don't live there. For all those who loved watching the debate and found it as hilarious as I did though, you'll probably like 'The Presidential Debate BUT Just Interrupting' on youtube and '1st Presidetial Debate: Ace Attorney Edition' on reddit.

Song for this chapter is 'Lovely' by Billie Eilish, Khalid.


I slipped past the doors of the dungeon just as Frank was about to pull them shut.

I flicked my wand inside my pocket, jamming the lock system just as I heard the click of the key in the lock, echoing in the relatively empty dungeon like ripples in a pond.

The prison was dimly lit, covered with soggy patches and green mould. Dust had accumulated on the walls and floor for so long that they now seem to stick to the stone. I was thankful for the dim lighting in the room as it prevented the footprints I was leaving in many muddy spots across the floor from being visible.

The room was unhygienic, to say the least, but that didn't really surprise me.

The wizarding world throws criminals into essentially a torture chamber that is Azkaban, they don't really understand the concept of a prisoner's basic human rights.

Peter was curled up on the floor in the far corner of the room. As if trying to fit into its surroundings, his clothes were crinkled and frayed, with mud now sticking to the places that were in contact with the floor, and his hair completely dishevelled. He was nervously chewing his nails, whimpering every now and then while his eyes seemed more watery than usual.

I undid the disillusionment charm on me, leaning my back against the door of the dungeons, the only clean part of the room.

Peter didn't notice me, his unfocused, anxious eyes fixed upon a crack in the floor, his thumb now being gnawed by his teeth.

"Ever heard that muggle poem," I whispered, my smooth voice filling the room causing the little rat to jump. He looked in my direction and his eyes widened in horror while I twirled a strand of my brown hair around my index finger, "Something about a mouse and a clock... how did it go again? Oh yes-

Hickory dickory dock
The rat got a nasty shock
All games and fun
Till his lies came undone
Hickory dickory dock..."

I grinned at the man still curled up on the floor, his back pressing against the stone wall, his whole body trembling.

"No, that wasn't quite right, was it?" I tutted, shaking my head in mock-sorrow, I then cocked my head to the side "But you get the gist."

Peter was shaking extremely violently now, his mouth opening and closing like a fish.

"You," he finally breathed out shakily pointing a finger towards me, "Lisa! How are you- You can't be- YOU'RE ALIVE!"

He looked at me as if he had just seen a ghost which, I suppose, in his eyes he had.

I chuckled; a short, humourless chuckle.

"Caught on, have you?"

Peter shook his head aggressively from side to side, interrupting it's already vibrating motion.

"No, this can't be- I'm hallucinating... It's not- she's dead, she's dead. It can't be! She's dead, she's dead. Lisa's dead."

Dead.

Hearing that word again and again struck a pang in my heart.

Though I suppose it was better than being reminded off what I actually was.

Forgotten.

"You're not real... she's not real- I can't, this can't... NO!"

He shouted the last part, clutching at his hair and pulling it, as if trying to yank out the thoughts from his brain.

He muttered for a few more minutes, while I watched on in irritation waiting for him to shut up. He finally did with a little shake of his head and a deep breath.

"Are you done?" I muttered sardonically, not bothering anymore to place a grin on my face, growing aggravated from the little traitor's theatrics.

He raised his head, looking me straight in the eye with a glaze of defiance in his own.

"You're not real."

I quirked an eyebrow and that seemed to drain out all the defiance from the man. I took my back off the metal door and walked towards him, crouching down just in front of him as he sank even further into the walls.

"Believe what you want Pettigrew," I said my voice mellow, an opposite to the fire that seemed to burn in my chest, "But all of this," I said my eyes running over the cell, "is real. And- " I reached out a perfectly manicured nail and placed it on the man's left arm right above the dark mark, "- so is that," I trailed my hand upwards, tapping his cheek once as he flinched from the touch, whimpers rising from his throat, "And the good news is that you now you don't get to pretend otherwise."

I stood up then and walked back towards the door, wiping the hand I had touched him with on my robes.

"So enjoy your life in Azkaban, Pettigrew!" I spoke with a smirk, my back still facing him, my shoes stepping in a puddle that caused a splashing echo to fill the room highlighting my voice.

I turned around to face him again, my robes, which I had enchanted to black, billowing out around me like a tornado before dying out.

He held a pitiable expression on his face; his eyes seemingly begging for help, for an escape from a lifetime of despair and pain.

And I felt a fire in my chest roar like an angry dragon as my smirk died down.

How dare he expect me to help when he had done nothing to help me?!

I had to pause as buried memories came to the forefront of my mind. Black robes and silver masks, cobblestones and metallic shackles, charcoal black hair and ear-piercing screams. And laughter- condescending, sick laughter that never seemed to leave my ears.

"I hope that the dementors make you relive every single moment of your wretched life," I tried to keep my voice as mellow as possible but it still came out with a cutting bite, "I hope they remind you of how you betrayed everyone you supposedly held dear, they remind you of everyone you've hurt, every single person who you have sacrificed to please your precious Dark Lord. I hope you remember every single thing you've done to people with such vividness THAT IT DRIVES YOU MAD!"

I paused, trying to get my breath under control and my emotions in check, this wasn't the time to lose control.

I saw the look in Peter's eyes. The widening of realisation in them.

The realisation that I was real, I was alive.

I saw shame in them. I saw anger. I saw sorrow. I saw shock.

I saw everything, every single freaking emotion which he could have been possibly feeling at this moment but I didn't see the emotion that I actually wanted to see.

Guilt.

I couldn't help it, I couldn't help it when the words tumbled out of my mouth.

"And I hope you remember everything you did to me."

He opened his mouth to say something but I didn't bother listening. I swung around and grabbed the handle of the door, pulling it open as I stepped out.

I turned back around to see Peter's eyes widen with shock as he scrambled to get up. He rushed towards me about to shout something. The harsh echo of an 'L' greeted me before I shut the door in his face with a resounding bang.

I reached for my wand in my pocket and flicked it again, the whirring of the locks sounding before ending with a short click.

I just stood there for a few seconds, staring at the grey metal, breathing hard as I tried to control my anger.

When I finally did I felt my head turn heavy, as if I was drowning, like the world was a blurry mess with the only clarity being that of the feeling of dizziness. I took a step back, trying to distance myself not only Pettigrew but also from the chaos that is my emotions.

I realised with a start that I had forgotten to put the disillusionment charm back on me.

I hastily put on the damned spell checking the corridor to make sure no one had seen me, the movement taking all my strength.

As my brain got fuzzier I cursed myself for letting my emotions get the best of me, for getting distracted, for becoming such a mess so easily. For letting this stupid little meet undo all the work I had done to forget everything.

Cause now every single stupid thing reminded me of that time. Thee deaths, the pain, the suffering, the fear. Everything from the colour of the walls around me to the sleeves of my robes.

I stumbled towards the nearest washroom, glad that it was empty so that no one would be suspicious of the opening and closing of a stall's door on its own.

I dropped the charm of me before letting out a shaky breath, dropping my face in my hands as I leaned against the stall's wall.

My breathing was ragged. Screams seemed to echo in my ears. Uneven, horrifying screams. My own, and others. Their words swimming around me.

I focused on my breathing.

Somehow I'd ended up on the floor, the cold of the marble sinking into the skin of my palms. I felt a cold sweat on my forehead and shakily reached up to wipe it off.

This wasn't the time for a mental breakdown my brain seemed to chide but my body refused to comply.

Pushing myself, trying to overcome these new limits, I raised my wand and changed the colour of my robes back to grey. I then raised my wand to my face, the limb feeling heavy, as I morphed myself into Mica feeling a slight spurt of relaxation as the familiar feel of the charms washed over me.

I sat there for a few seconds, letting myself calm down, letting myself breath.

Once I felt the crashing waves in my mind die down, I weakly pushed myself to my feet, standing still for a moment to make sure my limbs could support my weight.

I took a few deep breaths again. I couldn't let anyone see me like this.

After I was sure that I was feeling stable I walked out of the stall. I looked at myself in the mirror. Except for the weary look on my face, I looked completely normal.

I smiled, forcing the weariness of my face.

I walked out of the washroom and headed towards the staircases, an air of casualness surrounding me contrasting the whirlwind in my chest.

I heard shouting, real shouting this time. A recognisable male voice.

Peter.

Despite my current state, I couldn't quench my curiosity. I headed towards the source of the sound, peeking around a corner so as to not be noticed.

Frank and Alice were holding onto a struggling and squirming Pettigrew, grunting and sweating with the effort.

The three questioners from the trial; Amelia Bones, Albus Dumbledore and Cornelius Fudge; stood near them, their backs facing me.

"She's alive! SHE'S ALIVE! Lisa's alive! She was in there! She was! SHE MET ME! Dumbledore, you have to believe me, please you have to! She's NOT DEAD! Let me go, I have to talk to Dumbledore- she's alive. LISA POTTER IS ALIVE!"

"Potter?" Bones murmured over Peter's screams, confusedly looking towards the headmaster, "I didn't know there was a Lisa Potter?"

"There isn't!" Fudge said a pompous, matter-of-fact tone, "Pettigrew's gone barmy- or maybe he's just trying to divert our attention to escape. I've known three generations of Potters and I'll assure you that not one of them was named 'Lisa'."

"Maybe he's talking about young Alyssa Potter," Alice said breathlessly, "She's a year below our kid, Neville, at Hogwarts, maybe Lisa's a nickname for h-"

"NO! NOT ALYSSA! ELIZABETH! Dumbledore you've gotta do something! She's alive, I swear on it! She's alive!"

Fate, though it seems, was not without a sense of irony.

When he had been lying, everyone had believed him.

But now that he told the truth, no one did.

"Well that just does it," Fudge muttered irritably, "There's no Potter called Elizabeth. Take him away!"

Frank and Alice nodded before dragging Peter away.

Peter screamed and thrashed the whole way, his shouts reverberating in the hall. It seemed to echo with the voices I had heard before in my head.

"Let me go! Let me go! I've got to tell- Let me go!"

"Please let me go! LET ME GO! Please!"

"She's here, she's here! You've got to believe me!"

"She's not the one you want, I am! Just let her go!"

"I'll tell you everything! I'm telling you- hear me out!"

"I can't tell you anything! I DON'T KNOW! Please just let me go! I don't-"

"NO! NOT AZKABAN! I'm telling you the truth! Just let me go and I'LL PROVE IT!"

"We need to get out! Lisa please, we need to get out! You need to help us!"

"WHY CAN'T YOU STOP BEING SO BLIND! OPEN YOUR EYES!"

"STAY AWAKE! LISA, OPEN YOUR EYES DAMN IT, STAY AWAKE!

"You've got to believe me! DUMBLEDORE HELP!"

"Pettigrew, help me, please!"

I clutched the walls as I felt my legs weaken again but this time my mind stayed awake.

I watched as Pettigrew was dragged away in the same way in which I had been years ago. And I just watched, like he had that time with those beady little eyes of his.

Despite the fact that my mind was still reeling, I couldn't help but grin at the parallels.

And the words came out of my mouth before I could stop them; a cold, vindictive voice laced with dry amusement.

"Karma sure is a bitch, isn't it?"


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