Chapter 7

Imprisoned

The Isle of Azkaban had a look of utter gloom and desolation in the raging autumn storm. The prison dominated the island completely, its dark towers and battlements pointing into the steely sky, casting a great shadow over the sea surrounding it. There was no sign of life.
In his cell, Severus Snape sat on the dirty stone floor, leaning against the wall. He was wearing dirty, grey robes made of some coarse fabric, torn in several places. If you looked at him closely, you could see that he was shivering, but nobody was there to look. A viewer would also notice that Snape had become even thinner since his days at Hogwarts, which made his nose more prominent than it had used to be. His hair was longer and there were some streaks of grey in it, his skin paler and more sickly- looking, and his eyes sunken.
The prison was cold and dark and rather quiet, apart from the moans and cries that could be heard from some of its inmates from time to time. The Dementors did their rounds twice a day, but in between, Snape was left to his own thoughts, although the impression the Dementors left lasted a good while, making the prisoners feel anguish and desperation beyond anything ordinary people could possibly imagine.
If it hadn't been for the fact that Snape was very skilled at Occlumency, he might well have gone mad by now. Practising Occlumency didn't only hide your own thoughts from others, but it also made other people – Dementors included – unable to penetrate your mind effectively, thus giving a certain protection against the effect of the Dementors.
It was his own fault that he had ended up in here, Snape thought, eyeing his dinner gloomily. He didn't feel like eating, but if he was ever to get out of here, he would have to eat something. And he had to get out of here. Even with the Dark Lord gone, there was still work to be done – important work.
Suddenly, Snape heard a mad, desperate voice shouting curses at a distance: Bellatrix Lestrange, how he loathed her. The feeling was entirely mutual, of course. She, as well as the few other Death Eaters who had managed to avoid getting themselves killed in the Final Battle, still blamed him for betraying the Dark Lord to the Order of the Phoenix. Although the inmates at Azkaban had little opportunity to speak or interact with each other, Bellatrix and the other Death Eaters took every chance they got to terrorise Snape in whatever way they could.
He wasn't really that bothered by their attempts to make life miserable for him, though. He had more important things on his mind. He knew that their world had been shattered to a far greater extent than his at the Defeat; their lives had lost their meaning. They were lifeless puppets, and without the Dark Lord there to pull the strings, they were nothing. They were still a hazard to the Wizarding World, of course, but they had no purpose. Unlike himself.
He desperately needed to make contact with the outer world, but during the fifteen years he had spent incarcerated at Azkaban, the opportunity of doing so had never presented itself. For fifteen years, he had met no one but Dementors and Death Eaters, with one noticeable exception: the Minister for Magic, who had visited him four years ago. His visit, however, had been fruitless.
Snape had to get out of Azkaban, and there was one single person who might be able to help him with this. He sighed. The thought that the only person he could rely on was a foolish, gullible girl was hardly reassuring. And how to contact her? It was impossible. For fifteen years, he had tried; he had pondered every possible way of getting a message to her, but to no avail. Had he overlooked anything? No, there was no chance of that. He was stuck.
The only way of getting out that remained to him was one he had never seriously considered before: using the help of the other Death Eaters. If he wanted to get out, he would have to get their aid somehow. That would be difficult, of course, but if it was his only chance ...
Once he was out, he would contact her, the little fool.

Author's Note: Sorry about the prolonged cliffy from last chapter, but let's face it: it is more fun this way. I promise you'll find out more about Luna and how she knew about Harry in the following chapters! And thanks for the reviews – the more reviews I get, the more I feel like writing!