Disclaimer: I own nothing; if I did, I would be rich and famous and wouldn't be writing fan fiction.
CHAPTER FOUR: CRAWLING
I'm clean for the first time in what I can only assume to be over a month and the clothes I am wearing are no longer the torn and soiled ones that I first arrived in. I can't deny the fact that I feel much better than I did a mere hour ago. My hope has been rekindled...but they can't really be letting me out, can they?
The two guards, now carrying me down a dimly lit hallway to only God knows where, have done nothing but dutifully go about their work; they've been no help in my quest to figure out what the hell is going on. No one has bothered to explain to me where they're taking me or why; they probably figure I wouldn't be able to understand them anyway. I guess this whole insane act really has them fooled. This is probably all a trick, a ruse to get me to...to what? What more could they possibly want from me? Oh well...I suppose I'll be finding out soon enough. And it looks like we've finally reached our destination.
We've stopped outside of a thick, imposing wooden door located in a much nicer part of Azkaban than any of the parts I've formerly been allowed to see, or rather forced to see. It appears as if we're at an office of some sort I gather as I look around while waiting for the guards to open the door before me. The lead ministry official mentioned something about an assessment...I guess that's what I'm here for. I wonder what kind of assessment. Physical? Mental? Both? It doesn't matter, either way I know what the results will be already; that I'm lacking capability in both categories.
The office isn't too bad looking, considering the fact that it's located in a prison. There aren't too many personal touches: a couple of pictures (moving of course), a pathetic, wilted plant located in a corner (I doubt it gets much sunlight in here), and a rather large painting of a forest that despite it's size is shabbily done. Whoever this person is, they certainly don't get paid very much from what I can tell.
There are three chairs set up in front of a desk that has seen better days (at least I hope it has) and though they aren't very comfortable looking, at least none of them have any chains or other restraints on them; I take this as a good sign. We sit down; the ministry officials on either side of me shoving me into the middle chair before hastily taking a seat on either side of me.
The door opens again; I can hear it, though I don't bother turning around to look. There's a rustle of fabric as someone else, presumably the owner of the office, enters the stuffy room, and then a soft thud as the door shuts behind him. There's the sound of heavy footsteps before the wizard finally comes into view, his shabby, faded black robes fitting the image I had just formed from the appearance of his office.
He sits behind his desk, placing a thin manila folder down before him. We all stare at it, though I don't turn my head to do so, and look at it as if it contains the answers to all the questions brewing in our minds.
The moment is broken as the office owner clears his throat and glances between the two guards before hesitantly beginning to speak. "According to this file," he pauses, opening the folder and displaying its contents for all to see, "Mr. Potter here has become almost immune to the effects of the dementors by now. As I'm sure you both know, that occurs when the prisoner becomes incapable of generating happy images or joyful memories. Once this happens it's only a stepping-stone away for the prisoner to completely lose themselves and their sanity. We haven't actually checked him since the day after he arrived, but it's very doubtful that he's still...well, I guess I could check him over anyway, although he doesn't appear to be coherent, as far as I can tell." Their attention is drawn to me and I do my best to remain unperturbed by their collective gaze. The examiner leans over his desk a bit, setting his elbows on the worn wood and peering intently at my face, though his view is somewhat hindered by my wet, matted hair that while not particularly long still manages to act as an effective shield.
He gently tries to coax me to say something, asking me a couple of questions and sighing loudly when I don't answer. He leans back in his chair, allowing his arms to drape loosely over the armrests. "I can't make him talk," he states, his eyes never leaving me; I can practically feel them burning a hole into my skull. I find it rather amusing that he seems to find it necessary to announce that fact to the room aloud, seeing as everyone in here already knows I didn't answer his bloody questions. It appears he isn't done, though, as he interrupts my thoughts with more bullshit that I don't really care nor need to hear about. "I don't know whether this proves my earlier assessment that he is no longer lucid or..." he trails off, probably forgot what he wanted to say. I almost let out a derisive snort at his expense, but manage to resist the urge, opting instead to wait for the end of the sentence to finally be revealed, "...or he is perfectly sane and has just chosen not to speak to us." Hmm...I guess I underestimated him; he's more perceptive than he first appeared to be. "In either case there's not too much I can do to help solve any mental problems he may have. Physically...he's not too bad, considering. He's going to need to get his weight back up and his muscles have probably atrophied somewhat but...here's a printout of my recommended treatment. You can give it to whomever will be taking care of him. Alright, you're free to go."
We all stand, me being dragged to my feet, before heading for the door. The guards nod to the doctor before heading out and down the hall in the opposite direction from where we came. We stop at several checkpoints along the way, though I pay little attention to what's going on as around me as my mind races. "Alright, you're free to go." The doctor's words keep replaying through my head and I wonder if they're really true. Am I really free? Or did he just mean that we could leave his office? I still don't know what's going on, but it does appear as if I'm being led towards an exit from this hell that I've been living in for far too long now.
We meet up with Mr. Weasley in what looks like a foyer. It would appear that I'm leaving from a different entrance than I was brought in through. Of course it makes sense that they'd want to have separate entrances for inmates and visitors. It finally starts to sink in that I'm leaving Azkaban. The relief is overwhelming; it's almost too good to be true. Tears spring to my eyes and I fight to keep them at bay as Mr. Weasley signs some papers before approaching me and my entourage. He looks at me with overwhelming pity in his eyes, gently shaking his head back and forth a couple of times before turning and briskly leading the way out of a large set of double doors.
As I'm led outside for the first time in ages my breath hitches at the beauty of the canopy of stars that blankets the darkened sky. I'm glad to find that it's night outside, I feel exposed enough as it is, being out in the open like this again. At least the darkness provides some sort of cover for me and the moonlight shining down from the quarter moon is the perfect representation for the ray of hope that now lights my darkened path.
As the boat slowly floats across the impressive moat, powered by magic, with the water slapping against the side and the wind blowing gently across my face I realize how much I've truly missed my freedom. My hate and anger are temporarily put on hold as I savor this moment, taking in every detail so that I can remember it for years to come.
The ride comes to an abrupt stop as the small boat bumps into the shore before being pulled up by two bulky prison guards so that the four occupants, including myself, can exit. The two brutes glance at me warily, recognizing me as a former prisoner, but don't say anything to stop us from passing.
I'm led down a small, cobbled path and out a huge metal gate as Mr. Weasley digs in his pocket before extracting a dull colored quill from the interior of his cloak. He mutters something, though I can't quite make out what it is he's saying. He appears to be talking to the quill. And they worry about me being crazy?
He holds it out towards the other ministry workers and myself and the other two grab a hold of it before forcibly placing one of my bony hands on the end of the feather as well. Ahh...so it's a portkey. It figures that my least favorite method of travel (it's down there right below floo powder) would be chosen.
I feel the overwhelming urge to flee, to run away and never come back. But I don't think that now is the time for such a rash action. Surely they would catch me...I'll have to wait to make a move until I know I can escape. I don't want to blow the element of surprise.
I feel the pull at my stomach that indicates the activation of the portkey and there's a horrid lurch before I'm suddenly whisked away. I close my eyes against the blur of images making my head spin and try to keep my meager rations in my stomach where they belong.
We land with a thump, my eyes snap open and the harsh impact makes my feet ache, but at least I didn't fall over. Of course, the only reason for that fact is the two people holding me upright by each arm, but I'd like to think I would have landed on my feet regardless of their assistance.
I carefully take in my surroundings, making sure no one notices me as I do so and am surprised to find myself standing in front of Saint Mungoo's. I guess they were serious about bringing me here, not that I should be surprised. At least here I won't have to deal with any of a number of people who betrayed me, at least here I don't know anyone, though I doubt I'll be as lucky as to have no one recognize me.
Author's Note: Okay...once again Harry doesn't run into any of his old friends. This chapter was somewhat awkward to write and seemed a bit forced, if I do say so myself. I know none of the many questions have been answered and that this was pretty much just a filler chapter to lead into the next chapter, but...well, what can I say? The next chapter should be better. I've already written a scene with Harry giving everyone a piece of his mind. I really do hope I can use it in chapter 5. Thanx for all of the reviews! They really encourage me to get the next chapter done faster. I don't know what I'll be doing with Harry and Hogwarts yet. In truth he hasn't really missed that much, just a couple months of school...since he's a minor I suppose I could always have him be forced to return. Anyways...chapter 5 should be more exciting; I don't know exactly when I'll be posting it, but it should be up in no more than a week. As always, if you have any complaints or comments, please let me know.