On the Run
Chapter 2: Burns Will Always Hurt You
Nathan stared at the bars on the window. The sheets were hung there, ready for his neck to climb in. Ready for him to die while tied to them.
Joe looked across at the cell next to him.
"I'm sure we'll get out of Azkaban, Nathan. I mean, we know we're innocent. Honesty's the best policy, man."
"Not with Fudge in office. Or anyone like Fudge. Dingo, for instance. That's a retarded name! Duke Dingo, for Christ's sake! I mean, come on! Merlin O'Brien...he'd get me out...he'll reform the justice system," Nathan preached. "God..." Nathan threw his hand in his hands, small salt water tears sprinkling down his face.
"I don't care about politics. They've got nothing to do with me. But Nathan, don't hang yourself. I mean, you can get out of Azkaban. I'm sure you can. You've probably got something figured out, but you don't know it yet," Joe said. "Don't cry, dude. Take those dumb sheets down. Azkaban can't be that bad..."
"How long do we have?" Nathan asked. "How long do we have till we leave?"
"We leave the twenty-sixth. A week before the new millennium," Joe replied quickly.
* * *
Time passed too quickly for the two men as Christmas came. "We're getting the worst present of all," Nathan complained, "an all expenses paid, life-long vacation to Azkaban."
Charlie had greeted each man a pleasant holiday, with the exception of Nathan. "I know what you're thinking," he said. "And what you would get is the worst Christmas present of all. Even worse than where you're going."
Nathan then turned to the wall and sobbed to himself. He's not that emotionally strong, Joe thought.
Coward, Charlie thought. His hands hitting the jail bars, he strolled past the criminals, humming "We Three Kings."
Joe turned to Nathan. "Merry Christmas, man. I'd buy you something, but it doesn't look like I can."
"That's okay. I think I've got enough of a Christmas present as it is." Nathan was obviously referring to Azkaban.
Neither had any Christmas presents besides their vacation. Guess when you kill a person, people stop loving you, Joe thought to himself.
Why he had to act so sadly upset him. However, he was not still in denial like his friend in the other cell. I wonder if he'll ever get out of it...Joe thought as he watched Nathan sob, telling himself that this had never happened...
* * *
The train for Azkaban came the next day. It was a gray one, and Joe was immediately reminded of a missile train from the Soviet Union. A hooded figure watched from the window of the front of the train. Joe's eyes met the other's eyes for a split second. Joe then turned his attention to the butt end of the train, which seemed to have jagged edges.
It even looks like something that would house something like me, he thought to himself. Or rather, supposedly like me, he added to himself. Because I'm innocent. Jesus, am I in denial?
The train passed Joe, the wind rushing around him. The train stopped, the sound causing Joe to cover his ears. "Loud," he told himself aloud–he couldn't hear himself think.
Nathan watched from afar, staring at the train ready to take him to a fate worse than death. He did not see how any man, no matter how "tough" they may be, could be facing this like Joe.
* * *
"Mister Talon, please follow me," said the tall, buff man with a Scottish accent. His arm grabbed Nathan's left arm, forcing Nathan forward. Nathan obeyed the silent orders, moving forward.
"I don't really want to go to Azkaban, you know," Nathan said, stopping near the train. He could already feel their presence...
"You know what?" the Scot said, not waiting for an answer. "I don't really feel like making the train ride either. In fact, I'm glad I don't go off and kill people or whatever you did...you make me sick. I'm ashamed to wear my kilt because you people are giving us men such a bad name. You have no idea what real men are..."
Huh? Nathan asked himself. My last time in the real world, and some guy is saying some junk about kilts...
"Get on the train," the man said, shoving his elbow into Nathan's back.
"Yes, Sir." And Nathan began walking once more, reaching the train quicker than when he wanted to.
And he took the first step on the train, the first step to the rest of his life.
* * *
Joe, on the other hand, did not need any help getting on the train. He had accepted his punishment–well, at least he thought he had–and was really just thinking about nothing in particular, now that the Dementors were around.
The train was decorated darkly, in shades of gray and black. It was like the outside, just with cloth.
Large hooded figures roamed the corridors, not once staring down at Joe. He took his seat on the train, leaning his head against the wall. There was no window.
Joe tried not to think anything as the various Dementors passed by. But all he could see was horrible images.
His brother, sprawled on the floor. The blood soaked in the gray carpet. His face...so full of surprise. His mouth was in an "O" shape. "Joe," it seemed to be saying.
"There's no need to see more of this," said the Sir. "Of course it's not too shocking to you."
Joe shuddered. His face in his hands, he being to breathe quicker. Joe kicked the seat in front of him as he rocked back. The train was accelerating. Joe hung his head in shame.
Even if he hadn't killed his brother, he certainly felt like he had.
* * *
Nathan was shaking. His hand shook, his mouth shook, his feet shook, his entire body shook as a group of Dementors passed.
"Nathan's a loser!" said the boy on the playground. He made a face at Nathan, sticking his tongue out at him.
Nathan sat on the playground, alone. He was eight years old.
Nathan shook his head, trying to ignore the memories. "B-b-b-be quiet!" Nathan yelled. "You're the loser!"
The boy growled. No one told him that. Ever.
"Yeah? Well, prove it!" The bully's friends gathered around Nathan, pulling him up. They pushed him forward, their force much stronger than Nathan's, who was trying to stop them by dragging his feet.
Nathan sighed. It didn't work.
"Think you're so good, huh? Well, let's see." The boy raised his fists. "No magic."
The bully's fist were clenched, his face in a twisted smile. "You know I'm not really into violence," Nathan said, trying to run.
But it was too late. The boy's fist was launched, straight at Nathan's jaw.
It hit, and blood began to pour from Nathan's jaw. Nathan had it. He jumped on the bully, punching him in the face.
The bully kicked Nathan in the rear. Nathan fell over the bully, who jumped on Nathan and punched him in the face as well. Then the bully picked Nathan up and then shoved Nathan on the ground.
A teacher walked over, separating Nathan and the bully. "Nathan Talon!" she yelled. "How could you..."
"Nathan was calling me a loser, and he just started punching me! I wasn't trying to get in a fight, Mrs. Johnson! Really, I wasn't! But, by law, I have the right to defend myself; and I exercised my rights!"
"Yes, you did, son. Now, you two, come with me. I am going to call both your parents, and you can explain this to them. And you're going to explain this to the headmaster...
Nathan turned away from the aisle, staring at the walls. He tried not to think of more of this, but they were there. The Dementors were here. It was a strange thing to think of, mindless creatures invading your mind.
But it was here. Nathan just decided not to think of anything at all. This would be a long trip.
* * *
The train stopped at the train station, which seemed to be abandoned. It was lit by torches, heightening the shadows against the wall. Joe scratched his chin as he was pushed forward by the human guards. They would be the last humans he would see for a long time.
The station was hot, humid. Droplets of moisture dripped down the walls; sweat and tears dripped down Nathan's face. He couldn't handle this.
Why did everything in his life seem to go wrong?
Nathan, however, continued on, taking this punishment. He would get out. He would get out of this horrible place. He had to.
* * *
"Welcome to Azkaban," said the human guard to Joe, opening the door to a sunny day. It didn't seem to suit the occasion to Joe.
There was a dock to the left of them. Two boats were docked there. They were small boats, slightly larger than rowboats.
The water had taken its toll on them, the polish of the boats fading. Joe began to hum to himself as he stepped into the boat. "I look at all the lonely people...I look at all the lonely people...Eleanor Rigby, picks up the rice in a church where a wedding has been..." he sang.
"Lives in a dream..." the guard said, joining in. And together they sang as the boats made their way to Azkaban.
* * *
Nathan stepped out of his boat, falling on the ground of the Azkaban island. Its ground was sand, and the prison itself seemed like a forgotten, gray castle. Whatever white had been there had been there before was not visible right now.
"Certainly looks like a place to lose your soul," Nathan said aloud. The human guards nodded.
The Dementors passed by. Once more, Nathan began to think of horrible, depressing things. So did Joe. "Can't buy me love..." Joe sang. "Everybody tells me so..."
He hummed the rest of the song as he was escorted forward toward the prison.
* * *
The prison was full of moans from the prisoners. They made noises from behind the bars, like caged animals. I'm going to be one of those, Nathan thought to himself. This isn't happening...but I'm gonna leave. I'll flee somewhere...
No way I'm gonna be one of these guys, Joe thought. I'm escaping. God knows how, but I will.
"Welcome to the Worst Place on Earth," the human guard said. He closed the large iron double doors, and Azkaban suddenly became much darker.
"How are we supposed to see?" Joe asked. He felt oddly out of place in a place like this. He'd always considered himself a good man.
"I hate this place," Nathan said, stepping in a puddle of blood. Blood covered the walls. They continued forward, and Nathan noticed that there were two people in every cell.
They stopped at a full cell. Two dead bodies were sprawled on the floor, their blood on the walls and the floor.
"Welcome to your cell. Cell thirty-four."
The guard pulled a key ring out, and he opened the cell. He smiled, as if he was welcoming Nathan and Joe to a luxury hotel.
"I don't want to die in a cell of blood," Nathan said quickly. Joe couldn't take his bodies off the men on the floor. It appeared as if they had been in a fistfight.
"Oh yeah, well..." The guard pulled out his wand, and the blood disappeared. The prisoners began to levitate, flying out of the cell.
Creepy, Joe thought. "Okay, we've got a clean cell to die in. That's good..." I hope I was being sarcastic.
"Get in," said the guard.
"Are we gonna like, you know, get fed? I don't want to get starved. It's not like I can conjure up food with my wand either–someone snapped it," Joe said.
"You'll be fed three times a day. Whether you'll like the food, I dunno. But you will be fed," responded the guard. The doors closed, and the guard locked them. They were stuck.
For now.
* * *
The screaming grew louder. Joe tried to have a sense of humor about all this, but he couldn't. Life just sucked.
Amid all the screaming, Joe sat on his bed. It was a very small mattress and a thin blanket as well. Both appeared to be clean, as result of the cleaning charm.
A cool wind blew through the prison, and Nathan peeked out of the small window carved in the stone. The waters outside were a bright blue, the sun a bright yellow.
It did not seem right to be denied this sunny day on your first day in Azkaban.
"The world..." Nathan said aloud. "The world..."
"Does not want us, Nathan. I can't believe I'm in here." A fat eagle dived down to the water, and almost immediately it flew right back above. Its head seemed to be missing a few feathers.
The eagle flew toward Azkaban, eyeing Nathan. It then turned back away, heading for land.
Nathan sat down on his bed. He'd never been so bored in his life.
* * *
Joe stared at the cell next to him, not thinking of anything in particular. A half-naked man beat his head into the bars of the cell, yelling at someone named "Cornelius."
"Cornelius, you did this! Cornelius! Cornelius! You–" And the man continued, cursing like a drunken sailor.
"I'll bet the Saints are in the playoffs," Joe said aloud. A Dementor walked past.
Joe could see the walls of the funeral home. The casket was at the head of the room, in the center. The casket was open, and Joe could see himself walking forward to it.
He had been sitting in the back, in the last pew on the right. He was not too comfortable at funerals, though that was to be expected.
"Dad..." he said, staring down at the casket at his father's body. It was dressed in a tuxedo, something he had never believed his father would wear. He had been too informal of a man...
Dad should be wearing an Archie Manning jersey, a Saints hat, and a pair of jeans. He wore that more than anything, Joe thought, recalling the many Saints games his wizard father had taken him to. His father had grown up a Muggle, and he had introduced his two sons to the New Orleans Saints. Dad loved football much more than Quidditch. So had I. Joe stared down into the casket. He was only seventeen; he shouldn't be telling his father goodbye now.
He stared at his mother, crying in a pew off to the side. "Goodbye, Dad."
Joe shook his head, beginning to think that he was innocent over and over. I'm staying sane, he told himself. If it works for Sirius Black, it'll work for me.
* * *
Six days passed. Nathan had seen the fat eagle everyday, doing the same exact thing every hour.
Weird, he had told himself.
Both men kept their emotions to a minimum. They rarely talked to each other, both understand that their sanity was on the line.
"It's coming," Nathan said that Sunday. It was about four o'clock in the afternoon.
"What? Oh, that eagle..." Joe said, being awakened from his staring contest with the wall.
"It's not doing the same thing it usually does..." This time, the eagle flew straight to the prison, following the human guard who fed the prisoners. The Dementors are only here for fear and torture...and the Kiss, Nathan thought.
The guard had been sitting outside, as he did every afternoon. He came inside around this time, heading for the kitchen in order to prepare the meals.
The eagle followed the guard inside and landed. He did not seem to notice.
Then the eagle began to change. First it grew, resembling a six foot eagle. Then the face changed, beginning to take on a human shape. Then it was followed by the arms, the legs. All human. And finally came the middle part of the body.
The prisoners watched the man change into a man Nathan found very familiar.
It was all there...the pot belly...the thinning hair...
"Max," he said aloud. "Max!"
* * *
The guard turned, staring at Max, who was dressed in a thick insulated coat and matching pants.
"Um..." the guard said. "This has never happened before, so I don't really know what to say–and even if I did, I'm sure it would sound really corny."
"Most likely," Max said. "But allow me." He then kicked the guard in the stomach, sending the guard to a cell. The guard hit, and he began to fall.
"I've never seen a fat man kick like that," Joe remarked to Nathan.
"Neither have I," Nathan replied.
Max picked the guard up, grabbing the key ring. Dementors began to run through the hall, getting closer and closer to Max as he ran to cell thirty-four.
"Max!" Nathan yelled above the noise. "Are you crazy? You're gonna get yourself killed!"
"Hold on–I've gotta find the key!" Max flipped through the keys, finding a key marked with "34."
"Here!" he said, sliding the key into the lock, turning it. Dementors were reaching with their claws at Max.
Max remained calm, opening the door. He kicked a Dementor in the shin, which only cause them more anger.
"Leave!" Max said. "Leave!"
"Max, I can't leave you here," Nathan said.
"Go!" Max yelled, a Dementor grabbing his arm. "You, too...um, Joe!"
"Just go, Nathan," Joe whispered into Nathan's ear. "He wants us to go. We're not a threat to the Dementors until we attack them."
"Alright," Nathan said. He slipped out of the cell, only to find his head being grabbed by a Dementor.
The cheering escalated. It was a deadly brawl, every man for himself. Joe managed to slip past, his back arched against the cells. He kicked the Dementor grabbing Nathan in the back, and Nathan was subsequently released from its grip.
Max struggled with the Dementors, kicking and screaming. He bit the one holding him in the arm, but it was useless.
Joe eyed the walls. "Nathan!" he yelled. "Get me on your shoulders!"
"Why?" Nathan asked. Then he saw.
"The torches are like ten feet up...we can scare the Dementors away." Nathan nodded, squatting down.
Joe stepped on Nathan's shoulders, his height growing as Nathan began to stand. Joe grabbed the torch, jumping to the ground, avoiding the hot flame.
The Dementors turned, still holding Max. They hadn't performed the Kiss just yet.
"Come and get it," Joe said. Okay, that was corny. He moved the torch forward, going on the offensive.
The Dementors covered their eyes, screaming in high-pitched whines.
They dropped Max, running away.
"That was easy," Joe said.
"Let's get out of here," Nathan said with a sigh of relief. The trio began to walk outside, only to find the human guard standing in front of the door to freedom.
"Sticks and stones may break my bones–" the guard began to say.
"And burns will always hurt you," Joe said, swinging the torch at the guard. The guard ducked, kicking Joe where the sun doesn't shine.
Nathan punched the guard in the stomach, throwing him to the side. He opened the door, letting Joe–who was very much in pain–out first. Max followed, and Nathan went out last in the sunlight.
"I'm going to get a boat," Max said. "Be back in a moment."
Max quickly transformed into an eagle, and he flew across the lake.
"Did you know this guy was an Animagus?" Joe asked, turning to Nathan.
"No, not at all," Nathan replied flatly. "But I'm very glad he is."
Five minutes later, a boat arrived with Max in it.
The sounds from the prison had decreased, and order seemed to have been restored.
Joe wondered if it had taken any Kisses.
Nathan and Joe stepped into the boat. They were now fugitives.
They were now on the run.
Author's Note: Well, I like! You get tons of
action, a lot of humor (in the end), and Azkaban! Plus an Animagus!
Woo hoo! I enjoyed writing this, and I still love it to death. This
stuff is more fun to write than anything I've ever written, I tell you. I
seriously hope you enjoyed it.
Special thanks go to: Virgo, Chix, The Lone Stranger (sorry!), Conquistadore,
Jisuka, Colin (Good luck!), Luckfire, and
Lupin. And also to the 21 people who read the first chapter.
(Yes, you read right.)
Now, if over 200 people will review Draco Sinister, I say give every fic the same treatment! Everyone loves reviews!
Thanks for reading!