I stumble out of my cell a few days later and stand at attention just outside the bars as the guards perform the morning prisoner count. Malfoy stifles a yawn and blinks rapidly to clear his bleary, early morning vision as he takes his place next to me.
One by one the guards walk through each section of the prison and call out the 'all clear' to their superiors, who mark it down on a large checklist from the main floor below. Our cell is located on the second of three floors. All of the cells face outward toward the open space in the middle of the large containment room, where a series of staircases and ladders lead down onto the main floor.
Twice a day we are subjected to an inmate count, once in the morning and once before lights out. A loud piercing whistle wakes us at seven and we must scramble outside as quickly as possible as the doors automatically slide open.
With this mornings count finished, Malfoy and I quickly put on our grubby trainers and form a line to walk to the dining hall (such as it is), with the rest of the inmates.
Breakfast consists of runny eggs, burnt bacon, and soggy, unbuttered toast. And in his usual prima donna fashion, Malfoy huffs indignantly and complains throughout the entire ordeal.
I set my fork down loudly and grit my teeth. I did not get much sleep the night before, and I am feeling tired and on edge after the previous day's events. I have a feeling anything even the slightest bit annoying is going to set me off today, which definitely includes Malfoy and his grating behaviour.
"What's your problem?" he asks, stopping in the midst of his grumbling.
"You!" I exclaim. "Are you going to complain about everything the whole time we're in here? Because it's starting to get on my nerves."
"Calm down, Potter." Malfoy rolls his eyes and picks up his toast to examine it. "You queers are so touchy."
I have sudden visions of myself turning to him and punching him as hard as I can in the face, but I have more self-control than that. I merely pluck my plate from the table and stand up.
"Where are you going?" Malfoy asks with a touch of panic.
"Away from you." I throw over my shoulder as I walk off.
As my anger fades, I begin to notice that all the other tables are pretty crowded and that there is no way that I will find a spot where I could be on my own. This leaves me the only option of joining another group of inmates – none of which I even remotely know, and I'm in no great hurry to get to know them. But it's between either sitting with this hardened lot, or going back to Malfoy and his histrionics.
I hesitate beside one table and glance at the group of five seated there. They don't look too bad…
"Would you mind if I joined you?" I ask quietly, standing there with my tray in my hands.
They all turn to stare at me and I suddenly feel about ten years old again. Before I can turn tail and run, one of them speaks up.
"You're Harry Potter, aren't you?"
I swallow and nod nervously, not quite sure if I want to be Harry Potter at this moment.
The man suddenly breaks into a smile and pulls out the chair next to him. "Have a seat."
I smile gratefully and seat myself in the chair with relief.
"My name is Rick, but people call me Jackknife," the man introduces himself as I begin to munch unenthusiastically at my meal. "This here is Trip, Harshad, Little Slick, and Amari."
"Do all of you have nicknames?" I ask, looking around.
"Of course." Jackknife nods. "When you come into Grace, you leave the outside world behind. We find our worldly names just remind us of what can't have anymore, so we recreate ourselves. Isn't that right, lads?"
The men nod seriously and part of me wonders why they're in here. I mean, I could be sitting with actual murderers and psychopaths.
"Do you have a nickname?" Jackknife is asking me.
"No. Not one that I care to be called anyway," I answer, somewhat moodily.
Jackknife laughs heartily and the other men smile. "Don't worry, Potter, we'll give you one to be proud of."
I smile a little as the men start suggesting then rejecting names in earnest. I dart a quick glance over at Malfoy and smile as I watch him sulkily push his food around on his plate. If he would just look up then I could stick my tongue out at him…
"How about Shombay?" One of the men, I can't remember who, suggests.
"What does it mean?" Jack asks.
"It means 'one who walks like a lion' in Swahili."
"Got any names that mean 'hero'?" Jack asks, glancing at me teasingly.
I roll my eyes and groan. "I'm not a hero. I haven't really done anything."
"How about 'imprisoned yet to be hero'?" One of the others laughs.
"We do have a name for 'one who will succeed.' It is Bakari."
The men fall silent and nod approvingly.
"What do you think, Potter?" Jack asks me.
I nod in agreement and smile. "Bakari." I try it out on my tongue.
"Sounds good."
I smile at the man who gave me my new nickname. He is seated across the table from me and is quite tall and broad shouldered, with deep black skin and wise brown coloured eyes. He looks to be about thirty or forty, maybe older, and has a smooth way of moving with a deliberate grace. Maybe he was an African king in another life.
Jack claps me on the back and returns to eating his breakfast along with the others.
Jack reminds me strongly of Sirius. It's not just his physical appearance, but also his way of speaking and his mannerisms. He is youthful and extremely cool, I mean, his nickname is Jackknife – how cool is that? I can already feel a bond forming towards him.
The food doesn't seem to taste half as bad now as I force myself to take another bite. I dart another glance over at Malfoy and catch him staring at me. He quickly averts his eyes, and I'm pretty sure a slight pink blush is staining his cheeks.
I snicker to myself and swallow my bacon with difficulty. He's just mad that I made friends in here and can survive on my own. Somehow I forget that my newfound independence leaves him utterly on his own as well.
"We'll help you out, Bakari." Jack speaks up suddenly. "Show you the ropes, tell you what's what and who to avoid."
"Thanks," I reply gratefully.
"First things first." I think it's Trip who is speaking now. "Who is that stuck up ponce that you're rooming with?"
I snort with amusement and have to cover my mouth with my hand as I try to swallow my food without spitting it across the table. "That's Draco Malfoy. We go - er…went to school together."
"What's his problem?"
"He's a stuck up ponce." I tell them, matter of factly.
The other men laugh outright and I have to stop myself from looking over at Malfoy to see his reaction as they all turn to have a look at him.
"So what are you in for?" One of them, I think it's Amari, asks.
The smile slips off my face and I bite my lip in hesitation.
"Must be pretty bad for them to arrest the Harry Potter," Jack adds.
I nod. "Murder," I finally admit quietly. "But I didn't do it."
Startled, they all begin laughing.
"We're innocent, too." Harshad grins.
"No really," I protest. "I am innocent."
"Aren't we all?" Jack smiles, giving me a wink.
I decide to let it drop and go back to finishing off my breakfast.
Later that day I find myself standing outside with my new group of friends, hunched over against the cold wind and talking about anything and everything.
I'm not sure how, but Jack has managed to attain a pack of fags and is smoking them while he explains the rules of Grace to me.
"Do you know of the black box?" he asks.
I shake my head, swiping my hair out of my eyes for the fifth time.
Jack takes another drag and slowly releases the smoke into the frigid air. "It's one of the more common punishments in here. You do something they don't like, and believe me it doesn't take much; they'll throw you into this tiny, dank hole. You have to sit on the floor, cramped and cold, with no source of light and just enough of the foulest food you've ever tasted to keep you alive."
I shiver and glance around at the other men. They too seem to shudder at the mere mention of this place.
"How long do they keep you in there?" I ask.
"However long they goddamn want," Trip answers darkly.
"Have any of you been in there?"
"All of us have spent time in the black box, except for Little Slick," Jack answers.
Amari smirks. "And Jack has been in there the most often and for the longest amount of time."
Jack smiles and takes a little bow as the others applaud him. I grin as Jack's antics once again remind me of my godfather.
"What did you do?" I ask with a smile.
"Burned one of the guards with my fag."
My mouth drops open in shock even as the others smile and nod their obvious approval of the action. "Why?"
"He had it coming." Jack shrugs carelessly.
"Maybe we should warn him about the Carnal Boys," Amari interjects.
"Who are they?" I ask with interest.
"The fucking scum of the planet," Trip mutters.
"The Carnal Boys are three of the inmates here," Jack explains. "They're seriously sick and twisted. Arrested for the rape and murder of a couple of Muggle kids."
"Then why are they here? Why not just send them to Azkaban?"
"'Cause the little shits are only here under a 'strong suspicion' of the crime. Which means the Ministry Squad haven't found any bodies and there's precious little to convict them for – yet."
"There's also a good chance they might end up in the crazy ward over at St. Mungo's," Little Slick adds.
"They're crazy?" My eyes widen slightly as my education continues.
"Definitely mentally unstable." Amari confirms.
"Anyway." Jack stubs his fag out and glances around the yard. "You'll want to stay away from them. They like to prey upon the new prisoners, especially young ones, and you're the youngest one we've got."
"What do they do?" I ask, my mouth dry.
The men shake their heads in disgust as Amari answers.
"They'll grab someone when they least expect it and drag them off somewhere. Then have their way with them."
I suddenly wish that I hadn't forced down that greasy breakfast. "A-are they…gay?" I ask hesitantly.
"Who knows?" Harshad shrugs. "I suspect they'll do it to anybody, regardless of gender. They do it for the thrill, the power trip."
I want to ask if any of them have been attacked by the Carnal Boys, but it seems too personal a question. "What do they look like?"
The others peel back as Jack puts an arm around my shoulders and points me towards the other end of the yard. I squint towards the cluster of men by the fence. Jack points his finger and I spot the three men who are standing solitary.
I swallow nervously. They are like adult versions of Crabbe and Goyle; large and burly, like gorillas. Only they are far more frightening and sinister looking. The three of them are simply looking around at everyone, not saying a word.
I quickly turn away before they catch me staring. I don't want to attract their attention.
"You'd better tell that poncey friend of yours," Jack suggests, as he takes his eyes off of the Carnal Boys and stares down at me. "He's definitely a target, too."
"I will." I nod seriously. I certainly don't hate Malfoy that much.
"I think you have a visitor, Bakari."
It takes me a moment to remember that I'm Bakari, and turn to look where Little Slick is looking. One of the guards is motioning for me to follow him back into the building. He's holding a pair of handcuffs and the special tag that you have to wear while using the visitor's room.
I smile in anticipation, wondering who it could be this time. I cross my fingers and hope for Remus.
"Ron! Hermione!" I cry out and run forward to embrace my closest friends.
We hug and cling together tightly for a moment. I'd forgotten how much of a three piece puzzle we used to be; one just doesn't work without the other pieces.
We eventually sit down, Hermione wiping tears from her cheeks, and they rapidly begin to fill me in on what's happening on the outside.
"Everyone's helping, Harry-"
"Hagrid's been depressed ever since-"
"Dumbledore never sleeps-"
"The Forest has been completely roped off-"
"Ministry workers are everywhere-"
"You wouldn't believe how many Aurors are helping-"
"The press are going crazy!"
"You're on the front page every day-"
"A picture of you behind bars-"
"My mum has been in a right state-"
"Starting a petition-"
"Sent a jumper but they wouldn't let me bring it in-"
When they both have finally run out of breath – and information – I smile and just take in their familiar faces.
"Are you okay, Harry?" Hermione asks.
"You look a little drugged, mate," Ron raises a brow.
"It's just so good to see you two again."
"Is it really horrible in here?" Hermione asks quietly, leaning towards me.
I bite my lip and try to decide how to answer. I don't want to worry them too much. "It's…okay, I guess. We don't get whipped or anything."
Hermione looks relieved and I feel that I made the right decision.
"Doesn't mean that I still don't want out of here as soon as possible," I add.
"We're working on it, Harry."
"Do you see Malfoy much?" Ron asks.
"Every day." I nod with a roll of the eyes. "We have to share a cell."
"At least you're not with people you don't know," Hermione reasons. "I mean, you could've been paired with the real criminals in here."
"Yeah, but Malfoy." Ron grimaces as if it's just as bad.
"I just ignore him."
"Has he talked to you at all, Harry?" Hermione speaks quietly again.
"About what?"
"Snape's murder."
"No, why should he?"
Ron and Hermione share a look.
"What?" I frown, glancing between them.
"Harry," Hermione broaches hesitantly. "Did you ever wonder if maybe Malfoy did kill Snape?"
"That's impossible." I shake my head. "He was with me that night."
"Harry, they're saying that Snape's body had been lying there all day. He wasn't killed at night."
"But…the light. I saw the green flash through the trees."
"It could have been a time released spell or explosion, or even fireworks created to look like the Avada Kedavra curse."
"Hermione, you didn't see his face when we found Snape's body. He was just as scared and shocked as I was."
"He's also a very good actor."
"Not that good," I counter.
Hermione looks doubtful.
"Did you know that Snape was the person who sent Lucius to Azkaban?" Ron asks.
"Yeah, so?"
"So if Malfoy is working for You-Know-Who then he would want to get revenge on whoever sent his father away."
"That's crazy." I don't want to think about it. Malfoy can't be in league with Voldemort. He's been working with the Order, with me, for over a year now. It can't have been just a ruse.
"Think about it, Harry," Hermione urges. "Malfoy is at Hogwarts where any number of Order members come and go with information to deliver to Dumbledore. He's right in the centre of the light side. He can pledge allegiances to any side he wants and then play the double agent. Have you ever known Malfoy to go against his father, or his House reputation for that matter? Maybe Voldemort's plan is to get you sent to Azkaban. Maybe that was Malfoy's mission."
"But then Malfoy would be sent to Azkaban as well," I point out.
"What's one less Death Eater if he has you out of the way long enough to gain control again."
I look away but it's too late, that little seed of doubt and suspicion has taken root and begun to grow. Ron and Hermione don't even know that Malfoy was playing the double agent for our side; he was privy to information that only the Order knew.
Could he have? Could Malfoy actually have murdered Professor Snape?
"Confront him about it." Ron is clearly convinced that Malfoy is behind the gruesome homicide.
I blink and look up at Ron.
He nods his head and lowers his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "See what he says."
"He's not going to admit to it now."
"But you might get lucky if he gives himself away somehow. Be sneaky."
All the way back to my cell, I can't stop thinking about Malfoy. The more I think about it, the more suspicions and past actions come back to haunt me. I find myself analysing every little thing he did that night.
The guard slams the cell door closed behind me and I jump at the sudden noise, startling me from my distracted stupor.
Malfoy glances up at me and narrows his eyes before turning back to the tattered book in his hands. He's obviously still put out about me abandoning him this morning.
I sit down on my mat, trying to find the cleanest spot possible, and think about what I should do.
It won't hurt just to ask him about it…or maybe I could trap him into admitting it without him knowing.
"Hey, Malfoy."
He looks up. "What?" he snaps in irritation.
"I should probably tell you that they've decided to believe Dumbledore and try us with the Veritaserum."
Malfoy's eyes definitely widen a fraction. He closes his book and sets it aside. "Why?"
"Just because." I shrug carelessly.
"When?" Malfoy asks tightly.
"Tomorrow."
I watch him closely as he picks up his book again and flips it open.
I continue to watch as his eyes don't move across the page. He stays on the same page for over twenty minutes. I notice the slight furrow of his brow and the white knuckled tightness of his fingers.
And I definitely notice when he doesn't sleep a wink that night.
