AN: I don't own anything... I don't make anything. blahblah. You know the drill

This story was actually the first fanfic I ever wrote, and it's my favorite that I've done so far. Hope you like. VigilSoul

Lady of the Moon

Silence. Unnatural quiet. The sound of nothingness. Cold and bleak, it surrounded him... clung to him like a heavy wet blanket. This was all he knew now. This was his life. This was Azkaban.

He was a prisoner of war. A POW. A nameless man in a numbered cell. The walls were a monotonous, depressing grey. A door of hard steel locked him in. Outside his cage stood the Dementors. The demon guards kept a constant vigil in the halls of Azkaban. Their presence was suffocating, and choked out all feelings of happiness. Only painful memories were left in their wake. Torturous memories relived again and again until the mind could take no more.

Yes. Just as the body will give out under tremendous pressure, the mind has its own release... the blessed freedom of insanity. Almost all the unfortunates in Azkaban eventually loose their minds. The Dementors made sure of it; they delighted in it. But he would not loose his mind. He had seen the unyielding grips of insanity before, and he refused to take that route. He would not let the Dementors steal his soul.

The only way to prevent the inevitable madness was to avoid their wrath. The evil minions thrived upon fear, and fortunately he did not fear them. He merely accepted their presence and they ignored his, leaving him alone in his thoughts.

His life was at a standstill, moving neither forward nor back. Time did not exist inside these walls, but outside the Earth still moved. The war began long ago. The dark forces of evil had risen again; the fight for humanity raged on. But he sensed a great change coming soon...

A stream of silver light poured through the small window of his cell. He stared out into the night sky, the full moon shined brightly. Closing his eyes, he let her encompassing beams wash over him, and relished in the feeling of her healing light. Taking deep, soothing breaths he began to feel stronger, and for the first time in months the oppressing weight seemed to lift off his shoulders.

The Magick forces were powerful. The air shimmered across his skin with an electric charge, energizing him. Magick coursed through him and around him; whispers of encouragement danced in the wind. Taking one last deep breath, his eyes slowly opened to his desolate surroundings. He turned his gaze again to the shining moon and smiled graciously at her. He knew what he must do, and he was determined now. It was time to act.

Knelt beside the locked door, ear pressed against the cold steel, he listened to the outside... nothing. All was still and quiet. Closing his eyes, he concentrated on feeling his surroundings. If a Dementor was nearby, he would know it; he would feel the cold emptiness of its presence. But he felt nothing.

Good. If he was indeed attempting an escape tonight, now was his best chance. And he would have to move quickly. Yet something held him back. Doubt began to fill his mind. Fear of being caught clouded his mind, diminishing his determination and freezing him in place. Through the fog of trepidation, a tiny voice in the back of his head began to whisper to him.

Sighing, he knelt on the floor near the window. Moonlight encircled him completely. He had never been a very religious person, and had never really believed in the old ways. But at that moment, he felt overwhelming compulsion to do something he had not done since childhood... he prayed.

Head bowed, he drew the sacred star over his heart. He slowly raised his head until his eyes find the glittering orb in the sky.

"Gracious Diana - " he started, but the sound came out like a wheeze. His voice had not been used since he was brought to Azkaban and now was weak from disuse. He coughed uncontrollably, and doubled over on all fours. Slowly the coughs dissipated, leaving his lungs sore and irritated. With trembling arms, he pulled himself up off the floor.
His eyes once again locked on the glowing moon, and he felt her soothing rays upon his face. He raised his hands above his head in a salute. Stubbourn to the end... if he was going to do this, he would do it right.

"Gracious Diana, Lady of the Moon," he said in a much stronger voice.

"I call you this night to help me, I pray. Bless me with your protection, your love, and your guidance. Keep all harm from me, and let me walk in the circle of your light. So mote it be."

He paused a moment letting the moonlight pour over him, before getting back on his feet. He couldn't explain why he had just done that, but it felt like the right thing to do. Shaking his head in confusion, he turned his attention to the locked door.

He concentrated, yet still felt no Dementors. Rubbing his hand together and then taking a deep breath, he gently placed his right hand on the door. As he felt the energy rising in his body, he thought of all the times he had been underestimated in his life.

The growing tingling sensation at his fingertips reminded him of all the years he had spent keeping his true talents hidden. People were quick to assume that he was a harmless squib, never considering he might be more magically inclined than their strongest and wisest.

And never before now had he been so grateful for the oversight.

"Alohamora," he whispered, and felt the familiar burn of magick move through his right hand as the spell was cast. A loud 'click' resonated through his cell, and the steel door slowly swung open. He took a tentative step out of the cell. The long, dark hallway stood before him completely empty. The coast was clear.

Closing the cell door behind him, he took off into the unknown.