Author's Note: This is the last of four chapters I uploaded at once so if you skipped to the end, you missed a few chapters. That's also why I haven't uploaded in ages, I decided to write some segments out of order so I just kind of screwed myself out of being able to update what I had written since I needed to do stuff in between. On the bright side, I know some people like reading a bunch at once so... hope this makes up for the delay a little, right? Maybe?
"Rose run, I can hold this long enough for you to get through," Michael told Albus' cousin, "If one of us doesn't keep this up we'll be overwhelmed and killed by Inferi before we can get away, one of us has to fight for the other."
"You go then," Rose countered.
"No, I want to make sure you live!"
"You need to live more, Michael, you're going to be a dad!"
Without waiting on a response from Michael, Rose pushed him forcefully back through the entrance. Michael cried out in protest but it was too late, one wasn't enough to keep the Inferi back despite Albus' best efforts with the Knockback Jinx.
An Inferi's hand tore through the side of Rose's neck before he could stop it, she screamed in pain and Michael howled in anguish as if he was the one suffering. One tried to take her wand and ripped her whole hand off instead, another clawed at her face and tore off her ear. Michael tried to run forwards but Albus grabbed him, knowing it was already too late as rotted fingers clawed through her throat and silenced her screams forever…
"NO!" Michael screamed as he jolted awake, soaked in sweat and shaking all over.
He looked around in panic, breathing heavily but saw only the gloomy still outlines of familiar shapes in the Embry's garage where he slept on a shoddily transfigured bed. The emptiness didn't help, if anything the silence just served as an echo chamber to amplify the screams in his mind and the spaces between the darkness all seemed to be shaped like Inferi.
He buried his face in his hands but it didn't help, the images in his mind not in front of his eyes were the problem. He was crying before he realized it, feeling tears falling through fingers as he sobbed brokenly. It hurt so much but it wasn't a physical pain, it wasn't something he could heal, no that would be too simple. And so he had to suffer, to watch her die over and over, unable to save her just like he had been unable to in real life, just like he hadn't been there for Flynn, just like he hadn't been there for Annie. He just wanted the memories to stop, and there was only one way he knew to do that.
Giving up, he kicked off the blankets and crept out of the room into the main house. It was just as dim and quiet in here as the garage, bar some distant snoring. He went to the Embry's liquor cabinet, one silent unlocking spell later and he was carrying a bottle of whiskey back into the kitchen. He got out a glass and sat down at the kitchen table, he was afraid if he just took the bottle back to his room he'd drink it all whereas pouring it out might help with pacing himself. That was the idea anyway.
He poured himself out a glass and pushed aside the niggle of guilt over drinking trying to worm its way into his skull, he was trying to pace himself so he shouldn't feel bad. He dried his eyes and downed the burning liquid, it didn't have quite the same kick as firewhiskey but that was okay. Except it wasn't, his mind was quick to remind him, he shouldn't be drinking. But I need it, another part of his mind argued as he poured himself a second glass with a still shaking hand, no one else knows what it's like to wake up screaming every night from the memories. He started on his second glass, desperately hoping the brain cells responsible for broadcasting those horrible moments would be burned out soon.
Click!
Michael jumped in shock at the sound of the back door, turning with his wand half-ready but lowered it as Antonius' dog bounded back inside. Cassia followed and seemed as surprised to see him as he was her, she closed the door behind her and yanked her sleeves further down as she approached. He lamely looked around for some way to hide the alcohol but the table was empty, maybe she wouldn't understand or didn't know he wasn't supposed to drink.
"What are you doing up?" Michael demanded of her, reminding himself he was the adult and trying to look like he was well within his rights to be sitting in the dark drinking alone.
"Hope needed a bathroom break," Cassia explained simply as she came over and stood on the opposite side of the table, gesturing to the dog as it disappeared into the corridor, "I thought you weren't allowed to drink?"
"Cassia, would I be sitting here drinking if I wasn't?"
"Yes," Cassia pointed out and he scowled irritably, "Daddy used to drink sometimes."
"Because it's a normal thing grownups do," Michael insisted, sipping at his glass and deciding he didn't even care if he was caught. It was worth the headache to sleep without nightmares.
"Can I have some?" Cassia asked and Michael couldn't help but laugh at this, until he realized she was serious.
"No, it's for-" Michael started to deny her but changed his mind at her scowl, thinking abruptly of Scorpius' reaction to his first drink, "Okay, sure, you can try it."
"Really?" Cassia wondered, seeming pleasantly surprised by this as she sat down opposite him. He refilled the glass – it was nearly empty – and slid it over to her.
"Absolutely," Michael confirmed, with any luck one taste would put her off for life, "Just don't tell anyone."
"Okay," Cassia agreed readily and took a gulp from the glass, her face screwed up in the predicted disgust and she spluttered at the strong taste, "That… That has quite the kick."
"Yes, yes it does," Michael agreed, grinning as he suppressed the urge to laugh. Cassia looked pensive for a minute before to his great shock, started to move it back to her lips, "Hey! What are you doing!"
"Was going to try get used to that kick," Cassia explained as Michael snatched the glass back in horror.
"No! I said you could try it not drink it. You're not to drink, not now and not ever!"
"You drink!" Cassia pointed out acidly.
"And I'm not supposed to!" Michael admitted, kicking himself for screwing himself over. He sighed, "You shouldn't aspire to be like me, Cassia."
"Because you drink or because you're an asshole?"
"Go to bed!" Michael snapped at her angrily, jabbing his finger in the direction of the door.
Cassia gave him a dark look but nonetheless complied, heading back out into the corridor after the dog. He sighed heavily and ran his hands through his hair, regretting his outburst already. He should've just tried to talk to her, he was supposed to be her friend and she was obviously going through a lot. It wasn't even like she'd said something that wasn't true, he did drink and he was an asshole lately. He didn't know why he was so angry, anger was better than pain though. Miserably he sipped at his drink, figuring he'd finish it and go back to bed before Cassia told someone of his crimes. What was wrong with him lately?
Cassia stumbled backwards into the door to her room, fumbling to get it open without having to break the kiss and almost tumbling through when she succeeded. Her lover kicked the door shut behind them and she guided him through the minefield of empty alcohol bottles scattered across the floor to her bed in the corner, pulling her top off her as he pushed her down onto the bed. Wishing Maurice would let her have a double bed, she started fiddling with his belt to get it off.
"Let me," Jerry told her when she struggled, wondering why guys complained about bras being difficult to get off when belts could be just as awkward.
"Thank you, Jerry," Cassia offered and grabbed one of the bottles off the floor, pouring the last few drops into her mouth.
"What?" Jerry wondered freezing and she scowled in annoyance as she dropped the bottle, figuring he had seen the cigarette burns on her forearms. As if he had any right to complain, he was at least three times her age and any looks he had were hidden behind a face full of graying scratchy beard, "Did you just call me Jerry?"
"Isn't it your name?"
"No," Jerry snapped irritably but he had at least gotten his belt off, "I'm Tim."
"Does it really matter?" Cassia complained, reaching out to unzip his fly.
At this, whatever his name was seemed to decide it actually didn't matter as he started kissing her again and running his hands over her. Honestly, she didn't get why she should be expected to remember the names of the guy she slept with, she certainly didn't give a damn what they called her either. Jerry- Jim she corrected herself- started trying to unhook her bra, she made to help him before freezing as she heard the door burst open.
"Cassia!" Maurice's voice barked angrily, "What are you doing?!"
"Whatever I want, it's my room!" Cassia snapped back equally angry at the interruption.
"And you, get the fuck away from her!"
"She said it was okay!" Jim pointed out but backed off nonetheless, the coward.
"She's fourteen!"
"There's no age of consent laws anymore since civilization collapsed," Cassia said smartly as she sat up, her stomach lurched inwardly as a wave of nausea rolled around inside. Not now!
"My group, my rules," Maurice growled darkly, "Get out of here before I kill you, Tom."
"Shows what you know, his name's Jim."
"Actually its-"
"GO!" both Cassia and Maurice yelled at him, Jim shuffled out of the room quickly leaving them glaring at each other. Maurice looked in need of a shave, and sleep.
"How could you be so irresponsible, Cassia?!" Maurice demanded of her, kicking at one of the beer bottles.
"What does it matter what I do?! You never let me go on missions!" Cassia shot out, wrestling with and silently the nausea that had surfaced inside her. She needed a cigarette.
"How am I supposed to let you go on missions when you're so irresponsible?!"
"Maybe I wouldn't be so irresponsible if you let me go on missions! I'm better than everyone else here and you fucking know it."
"Yeah, because everyone better then you died!"
"I know damn well who's died!"
"If people better then you still died then how do you expect me to risk you in the field when you're always drinking or sneaking off to screw worthless nomads-"
"I stopped doing that months ago!" Cassia snapped defensively and perfectly truthfully, it was the one thing she'd concede he was right on. She'd learned that the hard way, "Jim is one of our new recruits."
"Not any more he's not," Maurice scoffed darkly, continuing to glare and if he made to say anything else it was lost as her stomach heaved again more forcefully and she lost the contents of her lunch, "And you're hungover!"
"I'm not hungover!" Cassia insisted, wiping her mouth unceremoniously on her scarred wrist.
"Of course you're not."
"I'm not!" Cassia protested once again, still feeling queasy, "I just… I've just been a little sick lately."
"Oh really?"
"Really!" Cassia snapped and either her instance or the fact it was the truth seemed to give him pause.
"Have you been to the infirmary about it?" Maurice asked, instantly making her regret not just letting him think she was hung over.
"No."
"Then that's where we're going," Maurice announced and flung her a dirty shirt hanging off the dresser beside him, "Come on."
"I don't need to go to the infirmary!" Cassia shot out determinedly, secretly fearful. She was pretty sure she knew why she'd been ill recently and she was pretty happy to just keep pretending it wasn't happening, she didn't want to deal with it right now or right ever.
"You're going," Maurice growled in a tone that left no room for argument.
"You have until I get to zero, boy."
Lawson ran in terror, tripping over his own feet in desperation to get away as his stepfather's booming voice echoed around him. The house seemed strangely large, dark and devoid of furniture but he was too scared to care as he started pulling his small shaking body up the large oak staircase, each massive step seeming to be almost the large as his own little legs.
"12… 11… 10…"
He reached the top breathlessly, perfectly identical empty corridors stretched out to both his left and right. He ran to the right, not wasting time thinking when he could be running. He tore down the corridor as fast as he could force his starved body to run, the corridor seeming strangely large and also with no furniture, just bare walls with equally identical wooden doors reaching out seemingly endlessly.
"9… 8… 7…"
The corridor seemed to be go on forever, he felt as if he was just running on the spot for all the closer it put him to the end. Giving up on that, he threw himself through one of the doors at random, his lungs burning from the lack of breath and his heart beating overtime due to his fear. The room was strangely empty bar a full length mirror on the wall, a wall identical to the corridors.
"6… 5… 4…"
He caught a glimpse of the tiny pitiful child in the mirror's surface, his waves of jet-black hair were plastered to his ghostly white face from sweat and two slate gray eyes stared back wide with terror. That was wrong though, bubbles of rational thought tried to surface through his thoughts, he didn't look like that anymore.
"3… 2… 1…"
Lawson jolted fearfully, abandoning the mirror and letting his eyes skim the room instead but it was just barren walls and floorboards. He ran towards nowhere in particular, falling to his knees at a random floorboard and digging his small fingers around the edges of one of them. He pulled with all his might, with a final heave the floorboard was ripped from its place.
"Ready or not, here I come!"
He was too scared to be pleased and instead just climbed into the hole he'd created, with trembling fingers pulling the board back into place over himself, leaving him lying in the dark with slivers of light filtering through between the boards. His whole body was shaking as he heard his stepfather's footsteps, cold fear seeping through every fiber of his being.
"Come out, come out, wherever you are…" his stepfather's voice cooed in a falsely cheery tone, it was followed almost immediately by a bang.
Lawson's body tried to jump out of his skin at the sound of the door being kicked open and he clasped a hand over his mouth to stop himself screaming, he was too scared to even breathe and tears filled his eyes. His stepfather's footsteps resumed as he strode across the room over him, a sickening scraping sound following as the nails in his baseball bat trailed along the wood.
"You deserve this…" a new voice rasped from beside him and Lawson felt his blood freeze to ice, he knew that voice, "Daddy, why?"
Slowly he turned his head to the left and saw his daughter's corpse was lying beside him, brown hair neatly tucked behind ears bleeding blood that looked black against her colorless skin in the gloom. Her mouth was hanging open, dried foam stuck to her lips but most prominent were her eyes, glazed glassy orbs that despite being sightless seemed to bore into his soul. He couldn't help the anguished scream that escaped him nor the tears that erupted from his eyes.
A different scream escaped him as his stepfather's hand punched through the floorboard, grabbing his pajama top and hauling him out of his hole. The looming figure threw him back onto the ground and raised the club over his head, the razor sharp points of the nails glinting in the gloom as his stepfather prepared to bring it down on him.
"NO! NO! NO! NO! NO!" Lawson screamed with every breath in his lungs, trying to shield his body with his arms as the swing came down…
Lawson jolted awake still screaming with his heart racing in terror, his arms still held up protectively as his body launched upright. He sat there breathing heavily in his sweat soaked clothes, shaking violently from fright or maybe the cold as his eyes darted around in the darkness.
He was alone – blissfully – but he was also in a very small cell, his heart started aching with anxiety as his claustrophobia started to kick in until he spotted the crevice that passed for a window, naturally barred but he could see the comforting presence of stars and a sliver of moon.
He allowed himself a breath of relief and put a scarred hand to his head, his tensed up body relaxing a little on the solid board used as a bed. It was okay, it was just dream – it was always a dream - and he was still in prison. His relief vanished the instant it had formed for the exact same reason, he was still in prison.
He flinched as if jolted by an electric shock and whimpered fearfully, hugging his knees to his chest as his body continued to tremble. He could only hope the Aurors hadn't heard that, he really didn't want to be tortured again. But you deserve it, his daughter's cold voice whispered in his ear.
"It wasn't my fault," Lawson hissed at the disembodied voice, rocking a little back and forth.
"Atoll!" a voice barked.
Lawson jumped so violently in response that he actually fell off the 'bed' and smacked his head painfully on the hard stone wall, he clutched at it with one hand and cowered fearfully. He was too afraid to even look at the Auror, sometimes just that was good enough to set them off especially if they were in a bad mood and they'd been in a bad mood a lot lately.
"Who were you talking to, Atoll?" the Auror growled and Lawson flinched at the sound of his voice, realizing he'd been holding onto some irrational hope the Auror would be content to snap his name and leave him be, or that he was still dreaming. If he was still dreaming he thought he'd really like to wake up now, "Sending secret communiques to the Shadows?!"
"No!" Lawson answered in a frightful yelp, knowing they wouldn't believe him anyway- they never believed him, "I'm didn't- I'm not a Shadow!"
"Then who were you talking to?!"
"I wasn't!"
"Well we don't we discuss this matter further downstairs."
"No!" Lawson wailed in despair and tried to press himself further against the wall since he couldn't back away, "Please! Please, please, please, I didn't-"
"On your feet, Atoll, hands out," the Auror snapped and Lawson flinched again at the sound of him striking his wand against the bars, unable to help but utter a whimper, "I can drag you kicking and screaming if you're not feeling compliant, that's much worse for you then me."
Lawson got to his feet shakily as he didn't want to make this any worse for himself, still staring pointedly at the ground as he inched closer to the bars. He held out his hands, the scorched scars making the skin seem mottled as it stretched over the visibly shaped bones and his wrists were bruised still. The Auror conjured handcuffs and Lawson grimaced as the cold shackles squeezed around the wrist, unreasonably tightly in his opinion. He heard the click of the cell door but waited until the Auror barked a command before shuffling out, idly lamenting the door was almost unnecessarily as he was practically thin enough to slip through the bars. They weren't starved but his stomach was so fucked he couldn't keep down most of the prison food and it was unhealthy to try, the Aurors didn't care of course.
"Walk!" a different Auror's voice snapped – it was customary to escort prisoners in pairs – and one of them shoved him roughly.
He shivered and started walking in the direction he was pushed, still unable to bring himself to risk raising his head so kept his eyes on his shoes watching his feet walk awkwardly. He didn't like watching himself walk, he could see the abnormal gait then and would instinctively try to correct the limp which often led to him struggling and falling. Fearfully he looked away as he knew the Aurors didn't take too kindly to that, they were walking single file now so he was less at risk for pissing them off for looking at them the wrong way.
Lawson wasn't exactly sure what the original Azkaban had been like but he knew New Azkaban was different, for instance it was on the mainland near a city instead of being isolated to a rock off the coast which he personally suspected had been done to rebuild faster. The higher levels were all split in half to divide the genders, men to the right where there were rows of individual cells and a shower room, he assumed women had similar to the left. They only got to mix on the ground floor, it was where the canteen was and the infirmary, the high security cells were also there. The basement was where they were taking him though, that was where the 'interrogation' room was.
He shuddered at the thought and tried to distract himself from his fate by gazing at the calming stars he could see out of the small windows in each of the cells, it was also better then looking at the prisoners who also could get pissed off just for looking at them the wrong way and it wasn't like the Aurors cared about that either-
"Hey!" Lawson exclaimed suddenly as he saw one of the prisoners hanging from the bars in his window, from the fact he was shirtless it seemed he'd made a noose out of his striped top, "That guy is-"
"Shut up and walk!" the Auror behind him barked, Lawson yelped in pain as he was struck across the back of his head – which was already sore from hitting the wall – and staggered a little but managed to stay on his feet. There was a moment of silence where the man's choking could clearly be heard, they could save him, "I don't see anything, and neither do you."
Lawson swallowed but said nothing further, just walked on like a good obedient prisoner who didn't want to make things worse for himself. RIP to that other guy he supposed, he wondered if the Aurors were really allowed to ignore suicides like that, he wondered if the Aurors were really allowed to do a lot of the stuff they did actually. It wouldn't surprise him if they weren't, though it also wouldn't surprise him if they were and Ministry really didn't give a shit, after all they may have got rid of Dementors but he knew compared to muggles they treated prisoners badly.
He shivered again, feeling the cold in his bones as body couldn't regulate his temperature properly so he was often left cold. Considering the fact it was summer though, even for him it seemed unusually cold tonight. Maybe it was just the Aurors' chilling attitude, they had just left a man to die. He looked back to the windows and was surprised to see the stars were gone, so was the moon. Had the sky really clouded over that quickly? That was a little odd, it had been perfectly clear a minute and several feet ago. He looked away as they reached the stairs and shivered again, damn cold.
They reached the steps which were guarded by a muggle, distinguishable by red instead of Auror robes and batons – and Tasers – instead of wands. They'd started hiring them after the reveal of magic so they wouldn't have to waste wizards, it wasn't like they let prisoners keep their wands after all. The burly bearded muggle unlocked the door to the stair well and they proceeded down into even icier depths, they reached the bottom security door and the Auror in front of him traced a shape onto the door which made it open. Or alerted the muggle guard on the other side to open it, Lawson wasn't entirely sure how it worked. Whatever the case, they went on through.
Lawson felt his heart start to beat at the inside of his chest in trepidation, they were getting closer to his doom. He kept limping along fearfully, his anticipation not helped as they neared the basement entrance. Coming from there, they passed more guards bringing one of the recently arrested Shadows back to their high security cell. They were dragging his barely conscious body back, the guy was shaking more violently then Lawson was shivering. He wished he didn't know why.
The muggle guard kept the door open for them and Lawson was led into the basement, into the 'interrogation' room. It wasn't so much a room as it was a concrete box, completely windowless of course with just a steel table and two chairs, you could tell which chair was for prisoners as it was nailed to the ground. It was definitely claustrophobia inducing, he couldn't last five minutes alone without having a panic attack- less if they turned off the light. The room was terrifying enough and that was disregarding the fact that despite being called 'interrogation' everyone knew it was for torture.
His heart was already trying to beat itself out of his chest as the Aurors forced him into the empty chair, with a wave of their wands his handcuffs chained themselves to a bar on the table and new shackles crushed his ankles to the chair. He tried to just breathe while avoiding looking at the man sitting across from him, Arnett, the rattish Auror who was in charge of the night shift. Lawson wasn't sure if he was shaking now from fear or the cold now, he practically jumped out of his skin when Arnett actually addressed him.
"Atoll, haven't seen you for a while," Arnett mused in a nasally growl, which was true as they'd seemed to be more focused on the recently arrested Shadows, "But today I hear you're trying to communicate with your little Shadow pals again."
"No…" Lawson whimpered fearfully and shivered, not quite understanding why they were obsessed with the idea he was a Shadow. He wasn't a Shadow nor did he have any desire to be a Shadow nor did he have any idea why they would even want him to be a Shadow, his crimes had absolutely nothing to do with the Shadows, "I'm not."
"Not what?"
"Not the Shadows."
"Then care to explain who you were attempting to communicate with tonight?"
"No one! Just myself."
"Was it yourself or was it no one, Atoll?!" Arnett barked and Lawson jolted again at the sound of the Auror slamming his fist down on the able, he whimpered again and squeezed his eyes shut. He already felt crying, any second now the torture would begin.
"Both. Nobody except myself, I just had a mightnare and-" Lawson stopped as he heard snickering from one of the other Aurors, his felt his cheeks burn. His words just did that sometimes, they seemed to get jumbled up on the journey from his brain to his mouth, "You know that I mean!"
"I know you're almost thirty, you except me to buy you were having nightmares like a fucking five year old?!" Arnett snapped and banged the table again, Lawson flinched and felt his face burning anew. It wasn't like he wanted to have nightmares, "Isn't it much more likely you're full of shit and were trying to contact your Shadow buddies? Talk to them through those Specters and have them break you out?"
"No. You're wron."
"Oh, I'm wrong? I suppose it's also just a coincidence they murdered your son in Hogsmeade after you murdered your own daughter, when it makes much more sense you'd just have your buddies off-"
"I didn't!" Lawson hissed defensively despite shivering involuntarily, actually looking at the Auror for the first time, "I did not kill her- I wasn't vean there- My wife was the one that- I was negligent homicide- I didn't want them to die-"
"You think there's a difference?! A dead child is a dead child," Arnett said darkly, glaring murderously with his beady little eyes. He has a point, Dad, his daughter's voice agreed in his mind.
"Shut up!" Lawson snapped miserably at the voice in his head, realizing too late he'd spoken aloud and the Aurors couldn't hear her voice. He swore he never used to hear voices either, "I neam- I'm sorry-"
"Crucio!"
Lawson screamed as every fragment of his being was suddenly alight with pain, it was like the acid was burning through him again but was also shredding him at the same time. He wished it was a physical pain, at least then he'd run out of body to destroy or pass out from the agony eventually. His body tried to contort against the pain but it had no leeway when he was chained down, his brain tried to plead for mercy but he anything remotely resembling coherency was lost in the violent shrieks that left his lips. Not that people were capable of mercy anyway.
He wasn't sure how long it lasted, every second was forever when filled with that much pain, but the pain started to migrate. He hadn't thought it was possible to intensify but it had, it was as if drills had bored into his brain and now even the small part of his mind he hadn't realized was shielded from agony was alight with the same pain.
You deserve it.
Abruptly, Lawson felt himself released from the curse and his body slumped as his muscles were freed from the tension. He was gasping for air like a fish out of water, tears he'd barely registered existing continued to stream from his closed eyes and the last residual ripples of pain jolted his still trembling body. The pain in his head hadn't stopped though, he still felt like there were knives sticking into his skull something awful.
"You feel like telling me what's up with your Shadow buddies now?" Arnett's voice was questioning, seeming a lot more distant now his words had to get through the fog of pain in his brain. Lawson tried to respond but he didn't think any words came out, it hurt too much.
If you don't say something, Dad, they're just going to torture you more, his daughter's voice pointed out which he registered vaguely as pretty likely. Fearfully he tried again, managing to mumble something incoherent this time which even he didn't understand.
"No? Well, I suppose you'll need some more incentive. Cruci-"
Lawson uttered a whimper but Arnett stopped saying the spell anyway, all of them silenced by a loud crash from upstairs and the sounds of commotion. He wasn't sure whether to feel hopeful it would give him a reprieve or scared whatever was happening would be blamed on him, he supposed he should be concerned what the disturbance actually was too.
"What is going on out there?" Arnett questioned of… seemingly no one in particular and Lawson heard footsteps followed by the door. He was sounding more worried when he spoke again a minute later, the commotion was only worsening and screaming could be heard, "What the fuck? Our enchantments are gone."
"Is that normal?" someone – probably a muggle gauging by the question – asked.
"No, there's only one way I even heard of for this kind of stuff. We need to secure the Shadow prisoners right now," Arnett growled, there were more footsteps and Lawson flinched as he banged the table again, "What are your friends planning, Atoll?!"
Lawson tried to respond but was distracted by a loud boom in his ear drums, like rock crumbling. He opened his eyes just in time to see the walls ripping, his jaw dropped and he looked up as the ceiling was being pulled off from above them.
The cold night air punched down on them at their unexpected exposure and their eardrums were flooded by the amplified sounds of chaos and screaming, Lawson could only still only gape at the prison rising slowly over their heads. With no warning, the rather sizable building was suddenly launched like a child tossing aside a toy and smashed down into the ground near – but thankfully not on – them to lay as a broken, misshapen mess in the darkness.
Lawson tore his eyes away from that, ignoring the fact his wife was in there to look at the sky. It was truly pitch black but high above everything he could make out a figure, a female figure bathed in azure light with a staff raised high above her head. He didn't know whether to laugh or to cry, he was either fucked or just out of his fucking mind. This couldn't be real, he had to still be dreaming.
"Stay with the prisoner!" Arnett barked and Lawson turned his head back to the people still there, aside from Arnett - who was running up the stairs - there was a muggle guard and half of some unfortunate sucker who must've been halfway when the Shadow Master ripped the place apart.
Lawson shivered, he thought he'd really like to wake up now.