Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter franchise. I do own my right to fantasize. See what I did there?
Chapter 2 - Fly
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This is the fourth time I have seen a fly on the bars of my small window.
Unlike the others, this one doesn't crawl or float around in order to know why my space smells so awful.
Instead of touching my head or licking the soles of my feet, it just hangs there.
I don't really mind if the fly stays where it is, but the insect is distracting me from the view outside.
The sky is light blue, not a spot of cloud today. No birds either, no flying dementors.
I want to observe the outside more, but the fly is really getting to me.
It just stands there, no buzzing or twitching of wings. The fly appears to be staring at me.
But that is preposterous, why would a fly simply stare at me?
I think I am losing my mind; thinking that flies have a hidden agenda other than following dead bodies is crazy.
But then, I think I have lost my mind for a while now, ever since I ran out of wall to scratch out the days I have spent in this godforsaken place. Ever since I heard my father calling my name as he was dying in the cell next to mind.
Yes, I think I lost it at that time..when I heard father gurgling sounds of desperation.
He was dying a few inches away from me, but I couldn't help him or demand for help.
I don't know the time or day that he died..I don't know how many years have passed. I think I have been staying here for decades..waiting for my death. Father died..for some time now. He died from the terminal curse which he has taken from the war, a dementor didn't bother to get the last of his soul. I think the dementor's kiss was more merciful.
His body was disposed of by burning, I actually smelled his body burn to ash.
After smelling his burning flesh..I seem to have lost my sense of smell.
Losing my sense of smell is actually a benefit for me. Ever since I got here, I haven't had a decent shower. Once in a while, the vents will fill with soapy cold water until I could actually reach the window of my prison. The window is at least five feet taller than me. During those times when we are lucky to bathe, a lot of the prisoners tend to drown themselves intentionally.
Oddly enough, I made sure that I didn't drown. I figure that drowning myself would be the best decision I can do, but I..I just keep on forgetting. They would fill my room through the vents, the water reaching the window. And yet, I forget to drown myself every time. Why? Why do I forget? I obviously don't have much to look forward to. Why not drown myself?
I close my eyes, recalling the last time that they gave us a cleansing.
I..can't remember all the details..I think it was a week ago..I think.
I..I remember the water rushing through the vents. They decided to make us smell like lemon today, with a strong hint of disinfectant which I think is usually used for cleaning lavatories. The water was ice cold as usual, making us vulnerable to hypothermia if we do not move around. Whether we like it or not, the water would make us float to the top.
The chains on both of my legs would be long enough for me to reach the ceiling. Although seemingly heavy, the chains are actually designed to make us float to the surface. It is up to us if we would like to float to safety or pull on the chains in order for us to drown ourselves. Simple, right? I just have to stay on the floor, tangle myself to the chains and die.
But..every time..every single time. I still force myself to rise from the water. I would look forward to reaching my one window, looking at anything that is outside. Our occasional bath is randomly scheduled, sometimes I see the blue sky and a faint outline of mountains; most of the time I see the stars and the pale moon. The night baths are the coldest times.
I prefer the baths during the day, at least I could see mountains from far away..mountains and the ocean.
The ocean.
I always inhale deeply when I remember the ocean.
Every time I recall the sea, which I can see from my window during baths, I think of better days.
All my days before my days in Azkaban seem to be my better days but..I recall even better days. Back when I was still so young, back when..back before that war..yes..there was a war. I was in it..I was part of it..I was doing horrible things back then, horrible things. I..no. I shouldn't be thinking about the war..I was..I was thinking about something else. What was it?
I look at the fly sitting on my window. The sky outside my window is blue..
Ah yes, I remember the ocean. The ocean.
Now..I remember. The reason why I do not drown myself. The reason why I do not want to die.
The skies..the ocean..blue and calm..
Wait..wait..where is the cloth? The cloth I came with when I arrived here?
Frantically, I search my worn out coat, looking through the pockets.
I found it.
The cloth..a light blue handkerchief, like the sky..and the ocean.
I sighed.
If only I didn't lose my sense of smell, maybe I can still sniff some of the rotten egg from the cloth.
Rotten egg? Why would I like to sniff rotten eggs? That's disgusting.
Focus. Focus.
Ah yes..my better days.
I bring the cloth to rest on the middle of my chest.
I remember Christmas..I remember getting hugs from mother and hearing the light laughter of father at the balcony. I remember presents..I had so many of them. I didn't want anything that the present contained..I just liked opening them and looking at my parents. I liked opening presents because opening them made my parents smile..they made my parents happy.
Happy. Happiness. I miss those days.
I miss them, my family. I miss..I miss..
I grip on the cloth on my chest..thinking of other things which I miss.
The cloth..the cloth is light blue.
I seem to recall a dream about lying on a beach somewhere, listening to the waves and the rustling of coconut fronds.
The sky is light blue in that dream.
Ah yes, I remember. I miss having dreams.
I used to have dreams..a long time ago.
Beautiful dreams, dreams that I look forward to.
Now, most nights, I only look forward to nightmares.
I didn't like the nightmares before, I was already living in one. But the nightmares make me remember, reminded me that I had a life, and I squandered it from being afraid of something or someone. I was a coward in that life, I was pathetic. The nightmares, they remind me of who I was..they remind me of people I used to know, people I look down upon.
And..people I owe my life to.
People who I owe my life..like a boy with glasses and a girl with unruly brown hair.
The girl with unruly brown hair..she gave me something. What did she give me?
I put the light blue handkerchief back in one of my pockets, the pocket that has no holes.
What did that girl gave me..I don't know. My head hurts.
The girl though, I tend to relate her with the sea..and the sky..and the sun.
The girl..she gave me..she gave me hope.
Suddenly, the doors to my prison is making noise.
Didn't they gave us some old bread a few hours ago? What are they clamoring about now?
"Draco Malfoy?" A voice asks, peering from the peep hole of my doors.
I did not answer. I don't think that I am inclined to do so.
"You are Mr. Malfoy, correct?" The voice questions again, more urgently.
This voice does not sound like one of the guards.
I glance at the direction of my door, not bothering to get up from my lying position. The voice belongs to a man with thick eyebrows and small eyes. He looks weak..and afraid. He is obviously not a guard.
"Yes? How may I help you?" I decided to answer, wanting this interaction to be over with so that I can concentrate on the fly which is still perched on my window.
"Oh, it appears your sanity is still lucid. I guess we don't have to put you in St. Mungo's Hospital after all." The unknown man comments with optimism. I think I made his job easier for him, although I would not know how.
"I'm sorry..I do not know who you are. I do not know how to acknowledge you." I tell him.
"Oh right, of course. Mr. Malfoy, my name is Mr. Groot. I am your assigned barrister for your case. Your former barrister retired three years ago, and therefore would not be handling you from now on."
"As much as your information is interesting, Mr..Groot. I would like to continue with looking at the fly on my window." I inform the man, not wanting to waste more time on his explanation.
"A fly?" He asks.
"Yes..there is a fly that has been sitting on my window for hours..for a while now actually; and it is still not moving. I would like to observe the fly for as long as I am able, I do not get a lot of entertainment around here so..the fly is a rather good distraction." I explain.
Mr. Groot tries to look at my window, trying perhaps to identify the fly.
"Do you see it?" I ask him.
"No..I'm afraid I cannot see the fly in my location." He cautiously answers.
"Well, it is there. And it is still not moving." I point out.
I hear wind coming from the outside, passing through my window. Much to my amusement, the fly is now moving. But instead of flying, the insects falls from the window and lands on my floor without using its wings. Quickly, I get up from my lying position in order to look at the fly.
The last time anything went inside through my window was another fly.
But this fly is different, this fly did not intentionally move inside. This fly was pushed by a strong wind.
Lying on the ground, the fly does not buzz or move. The fly is not moving.
The fly is dead. The fly is actually dead. It is and was dead the whole entire time.
Perhaps the fly decided to die on my window, and that was all it wanted to do.
The fly wanted to die. That was it. That was all.
"Mr. Malfoy, are you quite alright?" Says the man with thick eyebrows and small eyes.
I pick up the fly and walk towards the doors of my prison, I then carefully show the fly to the man who is standing at the other side of the peeping hole.
"Look, do you see it now? The fly fell from my window. The fly is dead after all." I narrate, pointing at the fly with my free hand.
"Oh..okay. Perhaps St. Mungo's will be your next destination. Would you give me a minute please?" Mr. Groot tells me.
I hear the shifting of papers.
"Oh dear..it appears that you are not entitled for any health privileges once you leave Azkaban. In fact, you are supposed to be immediately deported from the wizarding world as soon as you fulfil five years in this prison." The man on the other side states, sorting more of his documents.
"I see..ah yes, Mr. Malfoy..you are to be banished from the wizarding world, to live in the muggle realm for as long as you live." He says, his small eyes shifting as he reads his papers.
I blink once..and then twice.
Thinking this is more entertaining than the fly on my hand, I throw the insect behind me.
.
Because the window's frosted over
And I still can't see
I fall into a dream
And I wish that I could be…
- Tom Felton