He is in the dungeons.
April had taken the elevator as far as it would take her, and was now hurrying down the steep stairs towards the lowest dungeons.
That's where he was. That's what her boss had said, disgust dripping from his voice.
He is in the dungeons.
Somewhat short of breath April came to a halt in front of a set of intimidating doors. And somewhere behind themwas someof the deepest and darkest sets of prison cells the world had to offer.
The ones located on the floors above were for the oneslucky enough to be awaiting their trials. The ones down here were reserved for those poor souls whose crimes where to dark to be aired in a room of law. These cells were for those who went straight to Azkaban, the true Hell on our Earth.
Though at this moment there was but one occupant in the entire labyrint of dark cells, gloomy halls and terrifying safety measurs.
The doors swung open and torches flared up in the hall that ran behind them. Taking a deep breath she plunged on, her feet sounding like those of a dragon in the unnerving silence. The door on the far end slid open as well, and soon April found herself to be in a room few others had seen, much less lived to tell.
On her left was three doors, each just as dark and intimidating as the two she had already passed. On her right a long metal chain and asingle wristlocks were hovering in the air. Portkeys that would take you to a secret location on the mainland just off the island that kept Azkaban Prison, she had been told once.
But no more pondering could be done, for now the largest of the three doors on her left side squeaked open and three dark cloaked wizards appeared. Upon seeing her they came to a sudden halt.
"How did you get down here?" On of the men asked briskly, stepping towards her. Whether to protect her or intimidate her, April did not now. She handed him a slip of parchment, the sole reason she had managed to get past the countless magical restriction spells, and not to mention the two doors.
"I'm to get a fingerprint and a blood sample from the prisoner." She stated calmly, amazed that her voice did not tremble. The wizard grunted in reply. His two companions stepped over to the portkey, while he himself stood guard by April.
Soon three figures materialized from the darkness beyond the open door, two dark cloaked guards with the limp prisoner in between. His dark hair was hanging limply over his brow, his head lolling on his shoulder and his feet dragging along the flagstone floor. The two accompanying guards stepped to the side as they approached the centre of the room, leaving him hanging limply in the air. April's breath caught in her throat at the sight of him.
"Revive him." She said at last, with only a slight tremble to her voice. The man seemingly in charge gave her a quizzical look before raising his wand and removing the spell they had used to sedate him.
A tremble ran trough the prisoner's limbs and with a ragged moan he lifted his head from his shoulder. Stormy grey eyes flew open, landing directly at April.
Simply shrugging off the warning from the guard April stepped forward. His grey eyes never left her blue. Slipping away from the fumbling hands of his guards he lifted his right hand. Gently leaning it on Aprils left shoulder, his hand made contact with her cheek. The touch was soft and caring, and she battled to keep her tears in check. Never letting go of his gaze she pulled a square parchment from her pocket. Charming it to hover in the air she took his other hand in hers and let the tip of her wand slide across his thumb. This left a sheet of dark blue ink covering the swirls and lines that made up his fingerprint. Pressing it gently onto the parchment left a clear, blue print. The parchment was quickly ushered back into her pocket, and she pulled out a strange device, which in appearance it greatly resembled a see-though egg-glass. She turned his hand over and pressed it into the soft flesh of his arms. As the skin bulged within the crystal-clear boundaries a needle appeared pricking a hole in the skin, filling the hollow compartment on the top with bright red blood, and, once filled, April removed the device, letting it drop back into her pocket. He hadn't flinched once during the entire process, always keeping his intent gaze locked at her. With a barely audible, though still trembling, intake of air April dropped his hand and stepped backwards. Soon his arm slipped from her shoulders, and then hovered outstretched in the air for a moment before dropping to his side.
"Finished?" One of the guards asked, and deciding not to trust the strength in her voice April simply nodded. She only nodded once, but all the same she felt she had sentenced the young man in front of her to his doom. Biting her lip, she watched as the guards took their stand by the chain that hovered in the air, the prisoner prepared to be locked to the portkey.
At the spur of the moment April lifted her left hand slightly and let it rest on her stomach, with a begging look at the prisoner.
For the first time since he had been revived his gaze left her eyes, dropping to her arm. But only a second later it popped back up, eyes all questions. But then realization seemed to dawn on him, and he looked back down again. The stare he now fixed on her was wilder than any she had ever seen. Desperation gleamed in the grey of his eyes.
"No, no, it can't be." He was whispering, mostly to himself. He was staring at her intently, as if begging her not to affirm the assumption he had made.
Slowly she nodded.
A flicker of a smile twitched his lips, so strangely ironic, letting her know that in any other setting he would have been thrilled. In any setting but this.
The guards clamped the iron around his left wrist, and for the third time his gaze slipped from hers, this time to look upon the object that would bring him to the place of nightmares.
April was breathing heavily, using every inch of self-control she owned to keep herself in check.
The dark haired prisoner brought his free hand to his neck. He opened his mouth as if to speak.
"I-." But with a hissing noise he vanished, along with the five guards and the dark iron chain of the portkey.
But a clinker of something against the stone floor told that he had left something behind.
With a strangled cry April leapt forwards, sinking to her knees at the spot he had occupied only second previous. There, on the floor, was a silver medallion on a chain. Gathering it close in her hand April got to her feet, turned sharply around and bolted from the room.
Running as fast as her feet allowed her she soon appeared at the desk of her boss. He looked at her with a gleam ofpity in his eyes, and she let the square parchment and the blood-filled device drop onto his desk without a word.With a soft sob she turned and left.
A few minutes later she had left the Ministry of Magic behind and had appeared in muggle London.
Opening her hand she looked upon the silver medallion in her hand. His favourite cousin had given it to him years previous, April knew, after a rather bad scareincluding a five years old boy, to much candy, too little sleep and three cousins, desperate of revenge,cloaked in white sheets.April also remembered that it had burned Remus quite badly once, on hisfifteenth birthday, when themedallion made sontact with his skin during a hug.His -condition- made him react quite badly to the pure silver of the medallion.
Not noticing the tears that poured April wondered how all this could have come to be. The handsome, dark-haired man, who would soon get his first glimpse of the castle Azkaban, had been her friend for years. And not even two days ago he had caused the deaths of top-Auror couple, and incidentally two of Aprils best friends, Lily and James Potter. Though he hadn't killed them with his own hands, that had been the work of all-time bad guy Voldemort, he had apparently delivered information about their exact whereabouts, which again resulted in their much too early deaths. Their young boy, Harry, had survived the attack, unknown how, and Voldemort… Well, no one really knew about him. They said he had died, but April wasn't too sure.
Shebrought the chain of themedallion around her neck and clasped it shut. It had, after all, belonged to her boyfriend of some time, and also father of her child-to-be. This was be all she would have to remember him by. Her thoughts were spinning madly. This was what she would show her child, telling him or her that it had belonged to his or hers father... She could not quite shake herself free of that particular path of thought as shewalked down the London street.
The brilliant silver madallion gleamed in the cold September sun. The engraved image that decorated thefront was in the shape of a rather large and shabby dog, a child's depiction of the Dog Star. And April did not need to turn the medallion to know the engraved inscription on the back. She had seen it before, oh-so-many times.
Living Free, Sirius Black.