Azkaban was a fortress on an island in the middle of the North Sea. It served the magical community of Great Britain as a prison for convicted criminals. Without a trial, Mikhael was sent to this place for an undetermined time. This wasn't legal. Because he was a muggle-born, the minister could violate the law to accommodate himself without much repercussion.
The student's wand was taken away, a profile and front photo were taken with him holding like a true criminal a plate with his name. Anger flowed in his veins. The administration treated him like an animal. There was no proof or evidence of his supposed murder. Nothing could link him to the dead first year's circumstance, there was only rumor about his usual lone wandering in the castle. How could they trusted a rumor more than facts. To reassure parents about the school security the Board of Governors accepted to sacrifice him, one for all, but no all for one. They bound their time until another victim was found.
Without his personal belongings, the orphan long black hair reached his back's middle on the black and white prisoner's suit. There were no cuffs as the accused wasn't true culprit, only the main suspect. The guards on the boat taking him to his new residence, didn't hide their disgust at his presumed murder. They shot him Stinging Hex. For bad behavior they said. His body bore scorch marks. Mikhael controlled himself. His stay in this place was only temporary. Still, the accused summoned hidden, enormous fire spheres under the boat. Sticking charm were greats.
The orphan waited until the boat departed. The jailers took him into an empty cell at the top of the prison. From there, he could see dementors, floating all around the building. Those guardians left him alone for now. Mikhael viewed on the sea, a tiny dot was moving away. It was time. The prisoner activated his magic. A spectacular conflagration colored the sea red. There was no witness alive. He had an alibi of not having his wand to perform magic and the jailers had taken him in custody before the accident.
The same jailer came to bring dinner, a thin liquid food of oatmeal. Gruel like soup tasted the same as the orphanage matron meals. The guardian visited every time he patrolled this prison level, twice a day. The dark creatures' presence was enough to make the prisoner stayed in their cell the rest of the time. Some strange waves of laughter and resigned screams were the sign to indicate the special guards 'visit'.
As a newcomer, Mikhael had the privilege to meet those black hoods wraiths for the first time. A dozen of regular jailer pointed their wand in cautious, in case it went wrong. As the ministry policy was to reduce the budget on every jurisdiction, the Great Britain wizard's prison only employed sixteen human jailers for the island management. The presence of the foul creatures was said to be enough since no breakout succeed and there was no 'money' to pay the dark creatures.
The air around the orphan chilled down. He could see white smoke from his breath. The cold pierced his clothes, skin, muscles, penetrating through his bones. The jailer watching the spectacle with anticipation, wore fluffy warm mantles. The new prisoner would give all his money for one of their mantles, he was freezing. Shadows descended from the sky. The sky darkened. His body trembled. He couldn't summon his fire, his mind was hazy.
By instincts, the ritual adept stepped back. The hooded creature floated, closing the distance, sniffing the air. Mikhael's back touched his cell wall, he had no place to flee. His teeth clattered. The dark guardian was almost touching him. Tattered black robes hid the nonhuman starving body, gray skin on deformed bones. The only feature visible on the face was a disease-like mouth that siphoned the happy memories.
Mikhael forgot little by little about his time in Hogwart, with Luna. All his progress with magic faded away in his mind. The time in the forest with Abigael was replaced with a different forest, trees from a park he knew too well. The orphan saw, superposing in his peripheral view two adult bodies. Both were laying on the ground, blond hair splattered in disorder. In repetition, the man physic exploded in reddish mist. The creature was less than a meter close. The woman called Jacob's name. She died, again, she exploded.
A glacial hand grabbed the prisoner's throat.
Fierce thunder resonated in the black clouded sky. Rain's drops feel in the same place, hitting for hours an unconscious cheek. The water streamed formed a puddle covering the comatose body. After an unknown amount of time, the wind breath woke up the prisoner. Shivering from all his body, drenched clothes sticking to his skin, the inmate black eyes blinked slowly, accustoming to the lack of light.
The prisoner's jaw was stiff, he had difficulties moving it as his whole body was numb. Mikhael crawled from his current location to the closest cell corner. All he saw was a shade darker. Was his eyesight worsening, he scrubbed his eyelids, warming them with difficulty. His whole body needed warmth to recuperate. Headaches didn't help him to concentrate. Each sound entering his ears resonated in tandem, stronger, deafening.
Focusing all his will, a small dark flame flood from his fingertip. The fire was weak. It was his best. Breaking a small smile, the inmate reached his pocket, founding nothing. It wasn't his clothes, there was no potion available nor bread pieces. His head hit the wall, starring at his holed roof. His pride was broken. Water flew on his face. The prisoner listened to a weak child cries.
Beast feeding on his happiness some hours of the day, the prisoner could only endure the torment. The only human contact was in the evening, for the gruel. Some other inmates still tried to talk to the jailer to escape their inner hell, to feel alive. The dinner serving guard took a devilish pleasure to answer some prisoners to spend time while ignoring some other. This maddening decision resulted in screams from the forgotten ones. They banged their heads on the cell's bar to feel alive since the only contact they could have, ignored them, did they truly exist.
Mikhael wasn't at this level yet. He didn't know how long he had been in this place. He lost count of days with the dark weather. It could stay dark for an unknown amount of waking up till the sleeping and following waking up and the circle repeated, since there was no change, he couldn't be sure if he slept hours or seconds. The guard food serving should be the time marker, but muddies thought in hazy mind weren't reliable to distinguish if there was a service or if they missed one.
The top-level prisoner couldn't get used to the dark guard. Each of them were the same, wearing black hoods, bringing cold and depressing memories out of his mind. His magic had a hard time flowing in his body with his damaged mental state. The small black flame grew bigger, covering and warming his hand.
A new measure was put in motion. Meals had been reduced to one every two days the jailers announced. The guardian income lessened again, they get less money for the prison budget. Why should they took care of murderers and criminals. Human right wasn't a law, only the status of some prisoner saved them all from further degradation. Sons and daughters of old and most ancient houses couldn't be disgraced by such a treatment, them, they maintained their daily meal.
The old second-year student washed his body with the rain puddle. His skin accumulated layers of crass, darkening the water. Howling was his stomach. The lack of food didn't bother his growth before, but there wasn't the same magic concentration nor magic nature surrounding him here and at the orphanage. The foul creatures polluted the air and magic. His body had difficulty to absorb enough from his scarce meal, the boy height continued growing at his body mass price. The strong and developed muscles trained hard by training and sufficient food cannibalized for sustenance.
Expressionless was his face. No smile bore his head when black flames covered his whole body, burning away the dirt and exceeding water. The fire burned in silence without producing any light.
The nonhuman decrepit hands tightened on the thin prisoner throat. Numbed by the mother and father's death repeating in the corner of his view, the inmate trembled at the cold contact. The freezing flooded from this creature touch to the rest of the body. No jailers were present, no witness for the scene.
Dead dark orbs stared at the creature distorting the air while it sucked away happy memories. The prisoner hands, rose, reached the creature level and grabbed its extended arms. Unlike the frail aspect and the muscle loss, those arms contained a superior strength. The creature cold made it that the hand natural control was blocked however, tendrils of magic were attached to every arms articulation.
The pressure rose up, slowly it squeezed the dark guardian arm. The creature, instead of panicking at its arm injury, just continued to absorb happy memories from the prisoner. When the nonhuman arm broke up in a distinct snap, the hold it had on the prisoner's neck loosened. Closing the distance, the inmate own arms seized the creature's neck, cracking it in a 90 Celsius angle.
The wraith glacial pitch pierced the prison wall, reaching every human ears to suffer. Shroud of darkness accumulated in the prison top-level cell, expanding to the rest of the building with no end. The General Counter-Spell nor wind or light spells were effective to disperse the palpable darkness. Hidden in shadow, black flames consummated a dark wraith-like prison's guardian.
In the silence of the night, the moon shone red. The prisoner sitting position was floating in the center of his cell. Black flames in spheres rotated at a lazy speed around the floating inmate. Cold was the fire and freezing were the cell walls, ground and roof. Every raindrop entering the zone dissipated in a cloud of dark smoke.
The prisoner's magic tried to retrieve memories deep inside the holder's mind. Every scene he remembered was colorless. The mind world wasn't anymore a living world of fire, full of hope and burning dream. Flames had disappeared. Only ashes remained. Gray, white, black, it covered a never-ending ground of cold ice layer. A lone black fire was melting the ice, making a small hole, reaching a frozen pond, it didn't stop burning.
Every memories the black flame retrieved from the frozen water were flashes of a life without any feeling of belonging. It was like watching a stranger movie about his life without experiencing his emotions. Those shards of personality were turned into white ashes, dispersing away but able to regroup at will. Bit by bit, the prisoner regained what should have made him since he entered the world.
Mikhael was his name. His parents died years ago. He promised himself at this time to get revenge. He would per principle continue carrying this goal. The him now was different from the him before, he didn't have the urge, but he didn't want to forget who he was. He remembered everything. Abigael Hobbs was his best friend. Was that girl alive or not. He would grant her, her dream. The blond witch, Luna was his other only friend. He would treat her well.
The prisoner exited his meditation. The jailer came for the meal. Mikhael stayed in this place, for a specific plan. The inmate would follow his previous ambition and strategies. If he didn't, what was the difference between death and his current situation except for the need of sustenance. He had no desire for power, but his past needed that drive, to stay away from the loneliness.
Curious by the strange view, the unpaid guard deposed the meal on the ground, not diverting his attention to the floating prisoner. Wand in hand, the man prepared himself to stun that inmate. The dark orbs stared at the jailer. The latter opened the cell door. The black hair reaching hip prisoner walked out of his accommodation for the first time. He should feel happy. His fingers forced his mouth border to lift up, forming an unnatural smile.
The inmate, followed by his jailer roamed the prison top floor, admiring the view. The dark floating creatures bowed to his presence when they met him. The prisoner shadow left behind traces of thin freezing. Step by step, the duo visited each cell whether it contained inhabitant or not. Perplex were the visited. They blinked many times as the walking prisoner in this place.
Reaching the prison lowest level, deep in the island entrails, the free prisoner stopped at a chained door. The piece behind those sturdies doors radiated magical power. The pureness was enticing even to the prisoner's shaded emotion. Putting his hand on the metallic structure, the inmate sensed strong magical mechanisms pulsing through the construct. A familiar shroud of darkness enveloped the metal, withering it at eye speed.
The remaining jailer descended to this level in minutes for the slowest. They were surprised to see the forbidden room opened by a prisoner. Their wands spells were absorbed by the solid darkness, ineffective to hit the inmate. The same darkness held them by the throat, bringing them one by one to the black hair prisoner. Each of them stared at those black orbs, stopping to struggle. They went back to their posts.
Left alone, the inmate advanced in the previously sealed room.
There, stood a floating golden gemstone.
The lone prisoner entered another cell, sowing another seed for the greater good. The elder inmate's mental healths were not top-notch, it deteriorated with the years spent in this place. Most succumbed at the first contact, too weak to resist, too happy to find solace in their desolated mind. A strange unity made the prison corridor empty of despaired scream and laments.
" I won't BETRAY my lord ! ", a woman with thick, shining dark hair, long eyelashes and heavily hooded eyes was sitting in the chained cell as though it was a throne. She was a tall woman of white skin and long, thick, shiny dark hair. Her face had a strong jaw, thin lips, and heavily-lidded eyes with long eyelashes but that place took a toll on her appearance, her face became gaunt and skull-like, famished but not out of beauty.
" No, you won't. ", the cell bars twined, hissing with no voice.
" I was and am the Dark Lord's most loyal servant. I learned the Dark Arts from him, and I know spells of such power that you, pathetic newcomer, can never hope to compete ! ", the witch watched as the door to her freedom was blocked by her interlocutor.
" Exactly. Show me, how great is, your knowledge. ", snake-like metal bars wrapped on the female prisoner. A true smile abhorred the fanatic, her precious memories of 'learning' from her lord were revived. Those were her happiest times. She couldn't stop explaining her own experience to the outsider in her mind. Teaching to her new master her own expertise was a great honor.
The shape of a large, black, menacing, spectral dog was unusual in the prison. The dark guarding floating around the animal searched for the convict, not interested in the grim. The wraith-like creature exited the cell as their master had required. The prisoner observed the dog, it was a lot taller than the pet he had in his memory, a lot thinner too.
" This cell is supposed to hold the great betrayer, Sirius Black. ", the prisoner noticed the animal flinching.
" By his own greed, the man sold his precious friends' secret location to their murderer. ", at the newcomer's accusation, the death omen growled.
" It was all his fault. ", the prisoner didn't retreat nor show any reaction to the grim outburst, biting the metal bars. The black fur paws morphed into thin arms, almost reaching the prisoner, an inch missing.
" I never betrayed Lily and James. I would have died before I betrayed them. ", the human animagus screamed. His physical had prematurely aged beyond that of a man in his thirties. He had a gaunt, sunken face, waxy skin, yellow teeth, and long, matted hair. He looked as a living corpse might.
" Showing your true face, are you ? ", black orbs stared into the famished man.
The prisoner's meal had changed for the better. Nutritions followed by daily exercises helped to heal and overcome the top-level inmate's previous condition. The skin was pale because of a lack of sunlight, but the muscles hidden behind had sharpened beyond their best shape. He had all the day time to improve himself, experiencing and adapting to his vast new knowledge. Analyzing memories and keeping the best was a long process which resulted in long meditation sessions, but the gain was worth it, the magical control and prowess reached new heights.
On the 22 of December, the minister for magic, Cornelius Oswald Fudge visited the prisoner cell. The man's face was terrible, his political fame had fallen a lot. Following the politician was the leader of the light, pain and guilt bore his face, he sent an innocent to a terrible fate.
" Good morning mister Jones. Today, you are leaving this place, I hope your stay wasn't too difficult. ", the minister for magic faked a smile, forgetting that he was one of the reasons for this situation.
" My boy, I'm truly sorry for what you had to undergo. I also have a terrible new to announce to you. The school will be closed for Christmas break as another student was attacked at school. The good news was that Justin Fitch-Fletchley and Nearly Headless Nick were only petrified, not dead. We can still save them. ", the old wizard aura wasn't as great as it was inside Hogwarts' wall. Here, it felt like a candle's light around gray shadows.
The Ava's manor wasn't as great as one of the old family, the Sacred Twenty-Eight. Around her forty, the head of house, Joan Ava respected her parents a lot when they were alive and expect the same from her adopted son Jacob. This boy looked so fragile when she adopted him. As a wizard, he would become a pillar of the Ava family. He couldn't fail, she chose him like she chose her late husband. The poor man died during his duty as a curse breaker.
The blond child regretted the school closure for the Christmas Holiday. There was another attack. This meant that he would see him again. Jacob didn't want to. He thought his nightmare was finished once his brother was behind the bars. For weeks, he was happy, free of guilt. His friend Harry and Ron accepted him since he was way cooler than the know it all, but the best was that he could finally concentrate in class with Slytherin.
Now it was finished. With his brother coming back at school it would start again. The Griffindor couldn't unsee the picture of a six-year child crying and accusing him of their parents' deaths each time when he saw his brother. The mind healer couldn't help him. They said, he had to let time heal this trauma. He had to accept it before it would fade away. It was his past, he couldn't. If he did, it would betray their memory. He couldn't forget their death. Forgetting a single thing about them was, unthinkable.
He loved it when Olivia narrated the tale of the little red hood, she used to sit on his bed and waited until he was almost sleeping before giving him a goodnight kiss on the forehead. Her voice was so kind, she would offer him the moon if he asked it. She loved it when he levitated his teddy bear. Her smile had no price. Joan was different. She didn't accept any sign of weakness. In her presence, he had to act as a perfect pure-blood heir. She barely spoke to him except for giving orders and reprimand him when he wasn't the top student at school. She grounded him for a week.
His father Daniel never punished him like that for whatever school results he brought home. As a father, he was really proud of Jacob. The blond wizard always knew he was special. Just looking at his jealous twin back then proved him how good he was. He could change the color of objects and get praised for it. Now that he was older, he regretted not enjoying his time with his father more. A tear appeared on the corner of his eyes.
He couldn't cry. He had to finish his school homework and his home tutor homework before dinner. The charge was too much for him. He missed his biological parents. Ron was lucky, he had his full direct family alive and didn't get this much study to do at home while he was a pure-blood too. Jacob would ask for money to get chocolate for him, Harry, Dean and Seamus. His etiquette tutor wouldn't disagree with this initiative. Jacob had to be a proper wizard. Image was important to rise the Ava family to new heights. Still, he hoped he wasn't contracted to another small pure-blood family through marriage.
As Jacob descended for dinner, an owl entered the manor with a letter for him. Joan didn't let him read it, she first checked the content before throwing it to the trash bin. He couldn't spend Christmas Eve with the Weasley, they had an invitation for a party with families of better standing. He was not forbidden to befriend their heir, but he had to enlarge his social ring. The wizard savior was one thing his new mother congratulate him for.
She allowed him to leave the table.