Yay! Reviewsies! I knew you cared *sniff*. You know, I don't think I've been nice enough to my reviewers - so, starting now, I'm giving everybody who reviewed the last chapter a special mention at the bottom of the page. Feel the love....

In other news... I just noticed that I've stopped giving credit to J.K. Rowling in every chapter... does this mean the plagarism police are on their way? *peeks out window* I swear I didn't mean to! Help meeeee! *ahem* so, I don't own anything in the H.P. universe, no matter how much I wish, not now, not EVER, and I deem that if I ever forget to put up a disclamer again, this will cover for it. So there.

Also, I won't be updating next weekend - my Creative Writing class is taking a trip to New Orleans. Muahaha. So, in the event that I'm NOT kidnapped and murdered on Bourbon Street, I'll see ya'll in February. Ciao!



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By the time school's let out, the day has gone rainy and so overcast that it looks like twilight. In the common room, the

fire's already burning. I flop myself into an armchair to think. Every time I breathe, the coins in my pockets rattle.

It's distracting me, with all the noise and weight. I'm amazed my pockets haven't ripped yet - it wore me out, carrying them

around all day. But at least it's for a good cause...

Something inside me lets out a snicker at that, but I push it back down. I'm helping my Father - there's nothing wrong with it. I should just be glad that he's ALIVE. The man faked a deadly disease just so I could VISIT him, for Heaven's sake. For a minute, I let myself daydream about what he might have planned for me. Scenarios scuttle through my mind like the shadows of the fire on the wall - my Father, entrusting me with secret documents. My Father, telling me that I, and only I, am the person who can help him escape. My Father, going to all that trouble just to talk to me...

But even I have to admit that last one is a little improbable. He obviously has something important to say - he wouldnt've bothered with it just to have a chat. Still, though... I suppose it could happen. Four months in prison can change a man. Maybe....

I shift, and the money in my pocket jingles so loud that I almost jump out of my chair. Once I've calmed down, I jump out of it for real, and head for the dorms. I've got to get this stuff off me. I start to just dump it on my bed, then realise where I am and search for a hiding place. I only need to keep it safe for one night, but you don't trust anyone, for any length of time. It's Slytherin policy.

Eventually, I end up tying the stuff in an old cloak and shoving it to the bottom of my trunk. It's better than nothing. I'm too terrified to imagine what would happen if this money gets stolen. So I don't. I attempt some homework, and head down to dinner, thinking that maybe the sudden, growing queasiness in my stomache is just hunger. No such luck. I poke miserably at my veal and stare across the Great Hall - actually, at Brown and Ginny Weasley (No, no, JUST Weasley - the filth doesn't deserve a first name), who are apparently talking about something very funny. It's probably me, but I'm too uptight to even feel angry. I shove my plate away in disgust and head back to the South Tower. Maybe I should just get some sleep.

But every step I take feels harder than the one before it, like I'm walking through wet cement. In contrast, my head's buzzing like a Cornish pixie nest, little half-finished thoughts whizzing around and banging into each other, making me feel dizzy and sick.

~Butwhatiftheywon'tletmeinorthere'snotenoughmoneyofcoursethere'senoughwhathappensifi'mcaughtwhathappensthenoutofthefryigpanintotheohGODwhatifhe'sreallysickafterall?~



I slap myself hard on the forehead to clear my brain, and only succeed in giving myself a headache, as well. I stumble up to the dorms in a daze, collapse onto my bed, and prepare to be miserable. If I've diagnosed myself right, there's nothing else for it.

I've started to worry.

Not surprisingly, I barely sleep all night. When the others start coming in for bed, I just pull the curtains around me. I stare alternately at the canopy above me, and my watch. Four different times, I'm sure I hear someone climbing out of their bed to my trunk, and the money. Four different times, I peek out from the curtains and don't see anything. And four different times, I get up to check on it anyway.

It's starting to get light out when I return from number four, shivering in the cold, throw my pillow over my eyes, and finally feel something like exhaustion. Maybe if I just try to relax....

It's cold. And damp. I shiver, but the two men holding me by the arms don't seem to notice.

"What is this?" I venture.

In response, one of them jerks me so hard that my head snaps back. "Quiet, you. We don't take lip from prisoners." he says, in a voice that's amazingly deep for someone so short. They're BOTH amazingly short for grown men - I'm actually taller than they are. We stop at an ugly, dank archwayway, guarded by another fairly short wizard, standing behind a sort of glass barrier in thick grey uniform robes. He looks bored.

"State yeh business, an' hurry the 'ell up."

"Transfer of prisoner M612 to C-Block." Says one of my escorts. Where have I heard that before...?

"Right. Lead 'im through."

My guards start to walk, but hit resistance when I won't move. I'm staring at the glass enclosure with indescribable horror. I can make out my reflection, and suddenly my hair is longer, my nose is sharper, my eyes are colder grey -

I'm looking out from my father's face.

My howls echo off the stone walls as the Azkaban jailers drag me to my cell.

My scream wakes me up. It's still dark, and suffocating... I remember where I really am, and stick my head out the curtains of my four-poster with uncharted relief. The dorms are just starting to lighten with weak morning sunlight.

"Shuddup." Montague grumbles from his bed across the room. A second later, a bottle of broom polish flies through his curtains and clunks several feet away. I ignore it as I shuffle out of bed. I check once again on the money, which is still where I left it, and change robes. According to the watch, it's 6:45 am. Time to visit Azkaban.

I'm halfway to the Great Hall when I realize that I have no idea how I'm supposed to get there. I stop short and lean against the wall, the coins in my pocket clanking. Both letters are still downstairs under my mattress, but I'm sure that neither mentioned anything about transportation. And wasn't Azkaban on an island somewhere? I fidget nervously. Well, there's nothing for it. Maybe a proffessor would know...? But there's no WAY I'm talking to a one of them, not about this. I straighten and head into the Great Hall, hoping that something will persent itself.

Which it does, immediately, in the form of an overexcited barn owl. As soon as I step through the double doors, it assaults me, pecking violently and trying to hoot at the same time. It must be the same one that attacked Proffessor Snape. I start to smile but, apparently, mad birds are attracted to exposed teeth.

One slightly bleeding lip and a drop-kicked owl later, I'm holding another letter from Azkaban. I tear it open one handed, wiping my mouth with the other sleeve. I read it and breathe a sigh of relief that I never thought would be possible in something relating to Azkaban.



~Dear Mister Malfoy:

This is merely a reminder of your 9 am visit with prisoner M612, Lucius Malfoy. Our Visitors Center has been connected to the Floo Network for this occasion. Please administer Floo powder to a suitable fire and request the "Azkaban Prison Visitor Center." Thank you, and we look forward to your visit.

-Manfred Jibbers,

Events Coordinator,

Azkaban Prison.~

So, one thing about this is simple, anyway. I turn back towards the South Tower. I've got some Floo powder in my trunk, and the Common Room fire should do - dormitory fires and such aren't supposed to be connected to Floo Network, of course, but the Slytherin Common Room's been illegally rigged for years. I've snuck out quite a few times, usually to Hogsmeade, and once to Knockturn alley to pick up some baby Venemous Tentaculas to put in Potter's bed - unfortunately, they crawled away in the night. We still haven't found them....

I come out of my reminiscing and hurry to the Common Room. I slip upstairs, where everyone's still sleeping, and dig the tiny blue pouch from underneath some socks. I check to make sure all the money's there one last time, and scuttle back down to the Common Room, where I throw a pinch of the purple stuff into the flames. They immediately roar emerald, and I step into them.

"Azkaban Prison Visitors Center!" I say as loudly as I dare, hoping the fire won't get confused by the tremble in my voice. The world starts spinning...

A minute later, I'm flung out of the flames with a slight OOF. I dust myself off and look around. My vision is blurry, but whether I'm still dizzy or just that terrified, I can't tell. One thing is obvious; it's the moment of truth.

I'm inside Azkaban.



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LOVE NOTES!

orangepenguin: MOOOLDY!!! I lovelovelove you, your reviews, your fanfic, your quoccas, etc. You've been ever-so-nice, and

have made me feel warm and fuzzy inside. Capt. Viggo would be proud.

Madaline: Your reviews are so very, very gewd! And don't worry, I'm getting to the good part soon. Psst - a secret warning - I am now convinced that you should write

fanfiction as well, and shall cheerfully bother you about it until you cave. Mwah.

BubblyFizz03: Whee! Your review made me happy! And to answer your question... heh heh. Whoops. No, Transmogrification isn't

in the American version. It's a product of my slightly dyslexic, spellcheckapobic brain. Thanks for pointing it out to me;

I'm on me way to correct it now!

p.s - So you're British, eh? COOOOOL....

Laughing Dragoness: *hugs* I've made a new friend! I R&R-ed some of your fic earlier - it blew me away! You float my proverbial boat, Dahlin'. Cuddles all the way.