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For copyright and disclaimers, please see chapter 1
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20 – Interlude Three: Azkaban
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Unknown date:
The North Sea, early morning
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"Wake up, you." The burly man wrapped his cloak tighter, then pointed his wand at the small, bound form in the longboat, and said, "Enervate."

She shook her head and shivered in her school robes and uniform, which was already soaked through. A green and silver necktie showed at her throat, above the ropes confining her. "Where am I?"

The other man in the boat said, "The norf' sea, lass. We've got a bit o' tradition for ye'."

"Tradition? The North Sea?" Winking lights from oil platforms showed through the mist.

"Aye," the second man said. "'Tis tradition to let new prisoners see their new home." As if on cue, the fog disappeared, and a black fortress loomed over the sea. "'Ere you are, luv!" he said, sounding like a real estate salesman. "Azkaban prison. Take a last look at the sky, now. 'Y won' be seein' it again!"

"But … but I didn't do anything!"

Both men laughed uproariously. "Prison's full o' innocent men, 'tis. 'Undreds of 'em. Now why y'd go an use an unforgivable, I don' know, lass." One of the men grabbed her arms, and he continued, running a rough hand over the leg of her white bodysuit and under her grey skirt, "We can make sure you're in one o' the upper-level cells. Naw't wi' the other lifers down in th' dungeons, lass." She smiled, and he moved closer as she shifted on the seat. He smiled, and reached for her as she kicked him with her bound ankles. He went 'oof' as he cracked his head on the side. With a quick 'Stupefy' she stopped struggling.

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"Enervate" the man behind the desk said. He was heavy, running to fat, adding, "Put Miss Wayne in that chair." He steepled his fingers, and said, "I am the warden. Normally, having attacked a guard, I would add fifteen years to your sentence. However, with a life sentence, that seems a little silly." I gazed at him, and he asked, "No protestations of innocence?"

"Sorry to burst your stereotype," I replied. "I am innocent, but you can't change that. Only those idiots at the Ministry can." I leaned forward, "I would appreciate two things, however."

The warden chuckled, "Original. What are they?"

"To know what the charges and evidence are against me, and a drying and warming charm, unless you'd prefer I die of pneumonia my first day in your lovely facility." I looked around the expensively furnished office.

"You are a change in the ordinary. A bit of business, first. I'm placing you in level nine of the dungeons, one level above the punishment cells. They flood for several hours every day, so I suggest you mind your P's and Q's."

She looked at the injured guard. "As long as no one tries to rape me, I'll be good. After that, it's self defense."

The warden asked, "Again, Wilson?" He tutted, and said, "Go get yourself fixed up. Jones will take care of Miss Wayne." He looked at me, adding, "There has never been a successful escape from Azkaban prison." Wilson left, Jones standing behind her as the warden continued, "In case you're thinking of stealing a guard's wand, please be aware that they are blood-matched to the individual guard. You won't be able to work with them, and it will count as an escape attempt. Since you're so young, you can't do wandless magic." He shook his head, and said, "Only thirteen and in Azkaban. What were you thinking?"

"I'm ten, actually, a first year. I could tell you what I was thinking if I knew what I was charged with."

"Ah, yes," the warden flipped open a thin file folder, and said, "You were charged with the attempted murder of Minister Fudge with the killing curse."

"I see. What's my motive, and what evidence is there?"

"According to this, it was in a private meeting, and both Minister Fudge, and Deputy Umbridge have seen the evidence against you." He looked up happily, and said, "No trial necessary, they've signed off on having seen the evidence. All perfectly legal and aboveboard," he said as he flipped the folder closed.

"No trial? Since when? Why would a ten year old girl be meeting with two judges on a case, and what evidence does it cite?"

The warden frowned, and flipped the folder open again. "Ah. As a Yank, you wouldn't know. During You-Know-Who's first rise, Chief Auror Crouch authorized imprisonment that way. You'll be pleased to hear that he forbid death sentences, and all you need is the signatures of two members of the Wizengamot. Yours are Minister Fudge himself and Undersecretary Umbridge." He smiled happily, adding, "As I said, perfectly legal, and it's never been revoked. Now then, according to this, they were discussing your trial testimony against Mr. Malfoy when you became unhinged and attacked them." He flipped through the folder; then added under his breath, "Evidence to follow? What the bloody hell does that mean?"

"I think you have an idea what it means. They need time to manufacture evidence. Why would someone be discussing their trial testimony, in private, with two of the judges of a case? What would be my motivation to kill Fudge, and with something as easily traceable as the killing curse? Do I look like someone who would become unhinged so easily?" I licked my lips, adding, "Maybe you should ask a few questions."

"Yes, yes," he muttered distractedly. "Jones, take her away. I need to think."

-

"I'd prefer to walk, if you don't mind, Mr. Jones. Try and warm up, you know."

"Ayup." He looked up and down the corridor; asking, "You'll be good?" I nodded, and he banished the ankle ropes; then quickly cast drying and warming charms. He whispered, "'Summat funny 'bout your case. It's been a while since I seen one come in wi'out evidence, an' how a firstie 's gonna know the killin' curse?" He looked at her, then asked, "Sprout still a' Hogwarts?"

She nodded, whispering "She's head of Hufflepuff."

He grunted, "I go' ta think," then saying a bit louder, "Back to your cell, before high tide, there, missy."

-

As I walked ahead of Jones' pointed wand, I shifted a bit in my ropes. I could feel my equipment belt under my sweater, and tried to surreptitiously pull it down with my hands, crossed and bound behind my back. The familiar feeling of the knives in my boots was welcome, and I thanked whatever gods there were that Ian had cast 'Notice-Me-Not' charms for me. They were far beyond my own meager spell-casting.

I tried to remember the path we took, and paused at a cross-corridor, turning to look back at Jones. He motioned, grunting, "D9, lass". I nodded, and walked fairly slowly, after all, I couldn't be seen as eager to get to my cell. I did wonder why there was no sign pointing to the supposed tenth-level punishment cells. We passed lifts, and I wondered why the few other guards I saw didn't seem surprised to see me still wearing my Hogwarts uniform. "Why don't they strip their prisoners?" I wondered to myself. "Are they that confident of their security?" I walked along the first level of block D, and saw inmates sitting on the floor of small cells. I stopped again, and Jones motioned for me to go down a circular stone staircase. I slowly made my way down, and Jones grunted, "Hurry up, lass."

"I don't want to fall and break my neck, all right?" I snapped at him. He grunted and continued to walk behind me. The stairway ended at level nine, a fairly damp corridor. He stopped at the second cell, and pulled out an old-fashioned skeleton key to open it. He motioned, and I walked into a small, low-ceilinged damp cell, where I took a seat on a small stone platform. Jones shackled my ankles, and then locked a steel collar around my neck. Stepping back a few paces, he banished the ropes; aiming his wand, and telling me, "Wrists in the shackles, now." Looking at him, I complied, wrists near my ankles. He nodded, adding, "Y' got eno' chain there to feed y'self. Have a nice life, luv." He backed out, wand raised, then slammed the cell door. "Water comes up the steps at high tide, luv. Behave, an' ye don't go downstairs."

I looked around my new home. I could see the barnacled high water mark three or four feet up the steel cell door, just below the level of my little platform. The cell itself was about three feet on a side, my little platform about eighteen inches wide, giving me about three feet of headroom. Pulling on my shackled wrists, they led through a ring to my ankles, giving me about two feet of chain. I could move my arms or legs, not both. Tossing my hair, I leaned forward, finding another two feet of chain for my neck. I sighed, and somehow managed to lie down on the little platform to rest, already thinking about my escape.

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With a low rumble, rats and mice started to run into my cell. I screamed as they started to climb on me, and struggled to sit upright. Two or three cats followed the rats, fighting them and each other around and on me. Shrieking, I tried to edge away, but my chains snapped taut as the rumbling grew louder. Rats and mice continued to climb on me, as seawater started to enter the cell.

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Water dripped from the cell's bars, and I lay exhausted on my little platform. I felt something cold coming down the dim corridor, hearing a rattling breath. I saw a dark robed figure with skeletal fingers stop outside my cell. With each breath, I felt a little bit of hope die, and I screamed again.

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"'Ave a good morning, luv?" the guard asked with a chuckle. I glared at him, my throat raw from screaming, and he added, "Life sentence, too. Well, here 'y go, lass, enjoy!" He tossed a dry half-crumpet and a small tin bottle to me.

"What's this?" I croaked.

"Your daily meal, luv," he grinned at me; then added, "Actual every other day, budget cutbacks from the ministry, don't 'cha know." He winked at me, adding, "Now, for a small bit o' favor, we could arrange summat." He stepped back, grinning as he slammed the door shut. "Ta, luv!"

-

Five days later, my stomach was growling, and without being able to reach the chamber pot in the cell, I had fouled myself. I looked up at the door, and the guard was there, smiling happily. "Well, now luv, have you thought about my offer?"

"Go blow a dementor, asshole."

"Oh, that's not p'lite at all, now is it, luv? Petrificus!" I froze, unable to move, as he casually unlocked my chains with alohomora, then he pulled my wrists behind me, reshackling them to my ankles. Arranging me to his satisfaction, I hung partway over the platform lip. He slammed the cell door closed, then said, "Enervate. Enjoy your bath, luv. Maybe it will wash out your mouth."

"Damn," I struggled with the chains. I didn't have the upper-body strength, the only thing keeping me on the platform were the chains. I tried to relax, conserving my strength and leaning over the platform from the waist.

The vibration and rumbling of the incoming tide woke me, as did the rats and mice. Three of them ran onto my head, forcing it down. I shook my head violently, dislodging two, but one clamped onto my hair, forcing a paw into my ear. I heard a hiss, and felt a cat on my shoulders, trying to get the rat with swipes of his paw, his claws digging into my hair and clothes. Screaming, I tried to shake them off as the water rose, pulling back with my ankles against the chain to raise my shoulders above the tide.

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"I can't do this," I said, panting and exhausted as the tide receded. I heard the rattling breath of the dementor as it paused by my cell and a wave of despair broke over me.