Summary: Snape's daughter, and her half-sister, are in Azkaban, as Deatheaters.
Day 4
I had a long talk with Mirella today. An honest one. I realized how much she matured over the last month. I think I did too. The circumstances led us to that. She suggested ways to survive in here. I feel she wants to hope that someone will get us out. I didn't say it, but that's impossible. The Ministry of Magic will not let us get away with being Deatheaters, despite betraying the Dark Lord about three months before he was destroyed, backing out and rejoining what was left of the Order of the Phoenix. We are traitors. Double traitors. I am surprised that all the "loyal" Deatheaters in this place hadn't taken care of us yet. Should Bellatrix be here, Ella and I wouldn't be breathing now. But, I guess, all the Deatheaters in here were not so willing to keep fighting after all. I mean, what's the point? Potter said, he'll do his best to take us out. I don't believe he will make it happen. As much as the Ministry adores his "chosen one" today, they're still quiet prejudist against him. Not to mention us. Mirella says I should "make up" with Lucius Malfoy. I don't know. I blame him a big time for getting us here, even when it is mostly not his fault. She knows I'll do it eventually. For Draco's sake, I hope he's all right. I hope he makes it out of the country. Not that this will stop aurors, Snatchers and all sorts of paid soldiers to catch him. I hope that doesn't happen, though. He doesn't deserve to be in here...
Day 5
The hardest part of living in here, could you guess what it is? I couldn't guess too until today. Most people would say it's the Dementors. But the hardest past is forgetting. In the beginning, you can't remember the right series of events. Unimportant ones vanish first. Then, the next to disappear are the faces, the familiar sensations, the scents, the tastes. Then you forget names, places, people. And what you're left whit is a vague idea of what happened and you ended up here.
I have forgotten Sirius. His bark-like laughter, the long conversations we had made, the feeling of his hot breath at the base of my neck. A feeling that used to send shivers down my spine. I know my father would have been furious if he had known about this. Anyway, I decided to sit down on those long hours of sleepless nights and, at the light of my wand, write my life before I forget all about it. It will probably take some time.
...
"My full name is Ailyn Sonia Snape. The story of my birth is a quite tear shed one. The thing is, I've never met my mother. I know very little about her. I have been told that she diet, that she left me, that she did not give a damn about me. My grandmother Eileen used to repeat those lines often. But I never got a word out of my father, the "notorious" Deatheater, Dumbledore's murderer, Severus Snape, about the matter. He seemed to have erased his memories of her, sure it had been painful, left at his twenties to raise a baby girl that was abandoned by her mother. So he brought me, an infant, to his mother. I know he wanted to give me her name but they went for Ailyn instead. I grew up alone until the age of five, when he appeared with a girl from a Muggle orphanage, claiming she was my half sister. Her name's Mirella Sonia Gaunt. She's the last alive descendant of the long bloodline of Salazar Slytherin himself, coming from which are Harry Potter and the Dark Lord. I'd say she's Dark Lord's grand-niece.
Well, we became inseparable. At age of 11 we both went to Hogwarts, to Slytherin House of course. We befriended with Draco Malfoy. We made quite fair grades and made it to the Quidditch team, as beaters on our second year. On my third year, I met a very clever dog, Padfoot and I was shocked to discover that he was, indeed, Sirius Black. He became my best friend which, of course, resulted to some huge fights with my father, who wasn't aware that I was helping Sirius to get to Wormtail. I didn't speak to my father until the end of the year four, when the dark Lord was reborn and he had to call in for duty once again, putting his life on a great risk. That summer, at the 15th year of my life, events which I had little control on, led me to become a Deatheater, Mirella too. Our grandmother kicked us out of the house when she heard about it. She didn't want to be related ( to Deatheaters. With Dumbledore's help, we arrived at Number 12 Grimmauld Place. Mirella was seriously injured. Nagini had bitten her on the ankle and she wouldn't stop bleeding. My father nearly died when he saw us, our arms wrapped with the black cloth unedifying freshly conjured Dark Marks. Dumbledore, to help us, had us join the Order of the Phoenix. We found ourselves stuck at the same place as my father, although we were working for the Dark Lord only.
Our mission was, indeed, similar to my father's. Just as he had to spy on Dumbledore and report back, we had to spy on Harry Potter. The Dark Lord was very interested in Potter's daily little problems, which, of course, made our lives tough as we had to hold our tongue and squeeze our way through a wall of super-protective fans and extra-suspicious friends to befriend to Harry. Things were easy enough since we did a little work with Dumbledore's Army without getting in the list. And, as you can imagine, Dolores Umbridge loved it. "I must not tell lies", I still have that mark on my hand. But no joke, our fifth year at Hogwarts was our toughest one. Even after abandoning Quidditch, we had to find our way through impossible amounts of homework, mental reports of Harry Potter's teen anxieties and full-night careful-not-to-be-seen expeditions. Plus, training in the Dark Arts to become descent Deatheaters. And avoiding Draco's irritating questions of how come and we hang out with Potter, the weasel and the mud-blooded. Anyway, everybody knows how, when and why the Ministry realized that the dark Lord has returned and what happened afterwards. I will not speak about my Worst Memory, yet. On year Six, one anxiety goes, another comes. We, surpisingly, passed our OWLs and went for every class Potter attended which, for our bad luck, included Transfiguration. But Draco now joined the team, making Deatheaters at Hogwarts four, Order of the Phoenix nine, including the Potter trio, part of which always stuck her nose in my business. Our orders were as followed: we'd keep our full attention on Potter, we'd help Draco anyway we could and we'd serve as aw active Deatheaters. But things were running smoothly. The night Dumbledore died- finally!-we were forced to stay at Hogwarts and don't blow our cover as Imperious curse victims. McGonagall and Granger hardly took the bait. At Dumbledore's funeral we sent exposed by that insufferable know-it-all part of the Potter-trio that wouldn't mind her own business! Well, yes I dislike Hermione Granger quite a bit. Year seven. We acted like we owned the place, which we technically did, since my father was the Headmaster. We intimidated both teachers and students alike, talking freely with the Carrows on how Mirella missed Kingsley by an inch last night and how where we to locate those "Potter-watchers". We discovered Hagrid's "Support Harry Potter" party and we blew it, we caught Ginny Weasley and her friends while breaking into the Headmaster's office, we transported the fake Sword of Gryffindor to Gringotts and so on .Yep, quite a busy year!
It was about Easter when we rebelled against the Dark Lord, by helping the Potter-trio escape the Manor. Later our grandmother was killed by Bellatrix Lestrange during a fight and we came at Hogwarts for the final events to take place. And they did. And here we are, locked up, waiting to hear changes, waiting for trial, waiting for conviction."
...
It's sunrise. Remembering my life amused me a bit. Well, that was only the summarized version of my life. The detailed parts will come to you randomly. Look at me, the fool! Writing like anyone's gonna read those lines, like I'll ever get out of here. But still, I am a bit amused. I'll go to Ella, to joke around. Sounds like when we were home. Father had a very good word for the whole situation. It's called irony. Ever heard of it?