Part III of III – The white place

Prisoner 01259364-L854

Harry Potter?! I want him dead.
No, hold on, I don't want him dead, I want him to suffer, to suffer the pain of hell, in body and mind, I want him to beg me for mercy first and then, when he will realise that I have none, to kill him next. This is what I want.
Yes, this is what I want. He must suffer. I want him dead, I wanna kill him, but he must suffer first.
And he will.
Why?! How can you look at me and ask me that? Don't you see where I am?! Cannot you smell the mould, the festering?! Cannot you see the dismal darkness? Cannot you perceive the decadence, the boredom that eat us all?
I wouldn't be here at all if it wasn't for him. It's all because of him... Of him!
For the lasts ten years I spent my days between four damp stone walls with the company only of an occasional rat.
I used to let him crawl on me sometimes as the beast is not at all scared, perhaps it thinks I'm dead, sometimes I think so too. So I let it crawl to make sure I'm not, it used to keep me company.
Yesterday though, I was thinking, and there is only one thought that has been able to occupy me in ten years... I want to see him suffer... I want to kill him...Kill him...
What?! Ah yes, of course, I was saying: just when my imagination was taking flight and I was right in the middle of a very well casted Crucio, the little beast began chewing the pillow, inches from my head. It made such a racket the fantasy was ruined, and I was back in my cell.
My putrid horrible cell.
Damned filthy beast!
I swiftly grasped it. It began squirming straight away, the tail lashing madly trying the get free. I observed it a moment: those tiny wrinkly claws, those sharp fangs...
I began to squeeze it, slowly at first, enjoying the screech (amazing how loud they can get), but then with ever increasing strength until when from every orifice of the beast was gushing blood. Interesting. I wonder if it works the same on humans.
Then I let it drop and I stomped it with all my strength until only some scraps of fur, loosen fangs and a reddish stain was all it was left.
I wonder if you can do the same on humans. I wonder if you can do the same on Harry Potter. That thought stopped my cold rage in an instant, replunging me in my fantasy. A nice one, with much blood and screams. It was so good it lasted until yard time.
We only get one daily hour to walk in the courtyard, a bare dusty place and that is the only moment where we can see day light as most of the cell have so tiny a window barely any light can get in. We can talk with other inmates then. I don't. I don't talk to anybody. I want to be invisible. I wait.
Anyway, most of the people here are out of their minds completely by boredom squinting blankly at the sky like idiots. I wonder if they see what I see, I wonder if they hear what I hear... The pleading, the screams...
They are not only in my head though, sometimes they are all around. Sometimes somebody start to yell out of the blue, especially when they are taken back to their cell, and they just howl and yell with all their voices and it gets so insupportable everybody else assault them savagely to shut them up.
It's always nice to watch. Refreshing. It gives me new inputs for my reveries back in my cell. It lasts so little though. Guards are all around. All around, always... But I observe them not seen. I know who they are: their names, their timetable, their weakness... I'm invisible and I observe everything... Everything... Everything... I'll kill him...
What?! Ah yes, I was speaking about inmates.
Daily, the word spread that another prisoner had done himself in and I wonder if this is their solution not to be burdened by us.
We are just a weight on society, a nuisance, a danger.
Scum.
They bring us to want to kill ourselves. But they won't succeed with me, oh no.
No, no.
I'm not mad, I'm not a stupid idiot even if I pretend very well. I'm not mad.
I have a brain and I will use it to get out.
I don't know how, I don't know when, but it will happen.
My life won't end in Azkaban.
I'll get out. And when it happens...
I'm not idle. I'm not stupid.
I'm using this time to collect information. I'm tame, I'm silent, I'm invisible.
Even when famous Harry Potter came here one day, he didn't recognise me.
They were conducting me out of my cell for my hour break, our path crossed, I stared at him, all my fantasies pushing in my head, I imagined him begging, I imagined him screaming!
But there wasn't any sign of recognition from him, as if I was one of the many in there...
The son of a bitch destroyed my life and didn't even recognise me!
He'll pay. He'll pay... My life won't end in Azkaban.
I'll get out because I'm ambitious. The Dark Lord taught me that. I was one of his favourites. I know I was. He never spoke to me, but I could sense it. You can always sense these kinds of things.
I knew that the only reason why he never acknowledged me was not to create jealousy between the others, but I've always felt it was so. I was the favourite!
Narcissa initiated me and everybody knew she was his right hand. She told the Dark Lord my story and I knew he'd want me in the team straight away. We were so similar.
I ain't got any mother.
I killed my father. The piece of shit deserved it all.
I didn't kill him by magic, he didn't deserve such finesse. And anyway, I didn't have a wand at the time. I was only twelve. I stabbed him. Old school.
I stabbed him in the stomach first because I wanted him to live long enough to understand what was happening to him. To understand that I, his tame son, the one who always bore his abuses in silence, who never complained when quite drunk he would beat me, abuse me and force me disgustingly, was killing him, gutting him... He suffered too... He suffered...
So, as I was saying, I stabbed his stomach first, he tried to fight back but the potion I slipped in his drink was starting to have an effect. The disgusting old creep...
So, then I tied him, I cut bits and parts of him just to vent out my feelings and to enjoy his shrieks, so similar to the rat's one when I think about it.
And when my cold frenzy took possession of me, I started to stab him a bit everywhere, to find out what's inside a bastard of that kind. Only filth. The starting idea was to stop once his struggling would fade but I got carried away and at the end there wasn't much of him left to be recognised. Like with the rat. I burned the body anyway.
He deserved it all, the piece of shit.
I lived by expedience from then on. I nicked what I needed, and I learned magic on the street.
I was sixteen when a Death Eater found me in Nocturnal alley practicing the Cruciatus on a stray cat. He understood straight away my potential and they trained me up for two years. Finally, I had a home where people saw potential in me, they encouraged me, gave me important tasks to accomplish, gave me tons of money and with that you can buy anything you need: clothes, brooms, women.
They left me to indulge in my passions; they even gave me useless muggles sometimes to treat me...
The day I've been marked has been the best of my life.
The Dark Lord looked at me that day and I read in his eyes respect for what I became. I read there the bond that united us. I was his best servant, the most loyal, the most faithful.
And then Harry Potter came. A scrawny boy good for nothing, how he survived a killing curse is the wonder. And not once but twice! And this boy good for nothing defeated my master. He ruined everything! All his plans for a better world! All the effort put in it!
I've been forced to flee. From the only place I ever felt home. All the people who ever appreciated me either dead or being captured. Everything ruined.
His fault, his fault!
I was on the street again. But not a kid anymore. I had magic, I had training, I had my brain.
When they cornered me, I brought quite a few down with me. I thought I could have made that escape. But then Harry Potter showed up. The holy, the perfect, the special, the one who everybody loves.
We duelled for some time, and I know I could have had the better on him, the revenge was so close!
But then another Auror got me by surprise, behind my back. Coward.
I expected mister goody-goody Potter to get pissed off for it. Surely, he wanted to duel me fair and square. Surely, he had been waiting for that moment for a long time like I was. But no. Not him.
The vermin came up to me all panting and crossed, kicked me hard in the stomach insulted me and they brought me away.
Although, in the defeat, there was a small consolation. I had a last satisfying glimpse of him crouching close to one of his mates (I sincerely hope a close friend) quite dead by my hand. When he understood the guy was ready for the grave, his expression softened my disappointment in having been captured. That was a good, good moment. I replayed it mentally very often in my mind.
It took them ten years to find me. I'm quite proud of myself. But I have always been one of the best Death Eaters. I was merciless and obedient. I would do anything I was asked to. I could obtain any kind of information needed.
I can be very persuasive.
Lemme tell you my little secret. I want to disclose it here. Just because it's only me and you, and I know you won't blab.
It's so simple but very effective.
There is a weak point in everybody but me and the Dark Lord. Can you guess what it is? It's so stupidly obvious. It's love. Even Narcissa that prided herself so much about her greatness and skills, loved her sister. That made her weak. I don't care about anybody, the Dark Lord neither. That's why he was so powerful.
So, what you need is only to understand who's the person your enemy loves most, and you can strike, and nothing will be denied to you.
I'm doing my research. I'm not idle. I'm not mad.
It's not easy being close in here. But slowly I'm collecting information.
Guards tend to chat in front of me. I'm so invisible they don't even realise I'm listening. They leave us old newspapers time to time and there is always something concerning him, I keep all I can find.
When I'm out, I will use what I apprehended and what satisfaction will bring me to kill him! What fame! I'll be the most famous of them all! I will be the one that killed Harry Potter! I will be even better than the Dark Lord! He never managed. I will. I will be the darkest wizard of all times! Everybody will remember me forever, people will shudder when talking about me, children will have nightmares over nightmares about me. In the whole world my name will be recognised and feared. And all of it doing something it will give me the greatest joy. Torture and kill Harry Potter.
What are you saying?!
Yes, I know. I know, it's a risk. I may die in trying. It's a good price to pay I reckon, don't you think? Even if this may prove to be my closing line. Through death I will write my name in history. I'm not afraid. I've never been afraid. Of anything. The Dark lord was. He was afraid of death. It had been his bringing down, it was his weakness. I have none. My name will be remembered forever!
In all these years I dug out many useful tips. He has got two sons. They are not children anymore. Shame because for some reason threats on children works always better but they can still be useful. The oldest is his spitting copy. I think I'd like to get hold of him... He looks so much like him.
They are attending Hogwarts; I didn't study there but I've been at the castle for Hogwarts' final battle. Screwd a girl. Killed a boy, killed a woman, (weirdo, purple hair). Some more probably. I cannot quite remember now...
Anyway, I know the castle, I know it won't be difficult to lure them out if I need to.
He used to have a daughter. Quite dead.
The day the news spread in Azkaban it was the only day where I caught some of the prisoners smiling. Everybody hates him here.
Everybody would love to have a go at him.
I smiled too, I leaped for joy, but inside. That thought made almost bearable the long hours in my cell. Knowing he was somewhere shattered by sorrow gave me new strength. I hope he loved her very much.
The responsible for it, (and oh, how I envied him!) has been brought here for a while. I've seen him at yard time, there was that shadow hovering on him I witnessed already in many of us. They took him out just in time I believe. Later, I found out he was his best friend. He forgave him apparently and they are still friends. I don't know you, but I reckon when virtuosity is taken too far it gets soppy. Anyway, for me it's only a bonus, a person more to be used if needed.
I found it out thanks to a guard. Walking hurriedly to the main building she dropped a magazine in the courtyard, it slipped from under her arm.
Fast as a lightening I picked it up and hid it under my tunic. Back in my cell I could peruse it at leisure. When I saw the cover and I read the interview inside, I couldn't believe my luck! So many weak points all in one interview! There must be a child by now, there is a very fit wife, best friends, everything! I'm spoiled for choice.
He will beg me on his knees to kill him.

Hullo everybody! I steal a second of your time for a brief communication. First of all I thank everybody who followed up to here and for the lovely comments. I appreciate that a lot considering I never thought this work would interest anybody since the so very little magic I putted in it.
To get to the point, I'll take a little break. The story is already written in full but I'm still revising it so I'll take more or less a month to be sure everything is at its best.
We are going to have a lot of pathos in this book (as you probably already guessed by the intro :P) and at one point the story will change completely and we will have characters take over. The events will proceed told by them in first person. It'll be interesting, or at least I tried to make it so :)
If I remember I'll even write at the end of the paragraph of each the song I thought represent them.
Thank you for the patience and support! See you soon!