Chapter Text
Severus had the distinct hunch that Dumbledore was to blame for their misery. Who in their right mind would send a group of sixth-years to a prison for career day? Based on McGonagall’s and Slughorn’s grim faces, those two certainly hadn’t volunteered to oversee this train wreck of a trip either.
“Once we arrive, you stay close to us at all times. Do not, and I repeat myself,” McGonagall hissed while she paraded like a drill sergeant in front of the assembled students in the Hogwarts courtyard, “do not wander off! You will listen to the guards and be on your best behaviour. Otherwise, we will leave you there with the other thugs to learn a much-needed lesson about discipline!”
With that last threat, she made sure to stare at the Slytherin section of the mixed-house group. Severus returned it unenthused. He could hear Goyle and Crabbe snicker behind his back, and Avery seemed excited of all things. He had been babbling about meeting his uncle non-stop the night before – so much that Macnair had thrown his cushion at the boy to finally shut him up.
Apparently, Avery’s uncle was buried somewhere in that shithole for murdering a Muggle family that had dared to settle on their ancestral property. Not that their ownership had been recorded with the Muggles. To those poor souls, it must have been nothing more than unclaimed land. Their murders had gotten Avery’s uncle a life-long subscription to free meal and board with the ministry.
“We should send that old codger some rotting flowers,” Mulciber mumbled. “Best chance ever to get into the Dark Lord’s good graces. Imagine we manage to break someone out! Or we can give him intel on the layout. Rumour says he’ll be at Lucius’ engagement party over the summer. Maybe he’ll mark us as a thank-you!”
Severus hummed half-heartedly. He was not looking forward to this field trip. Like. At all.
It didn’t help that the six Gryffindors on the other side of the half-circle were glaring at them in a way that promised murder. Well, everybody but Lily. Those green eyes did not make eye contact with Severus. Hadn’t since the end of fifth year.
Mulciber and Macnair and Avery were right. Screw her. Screw that … Mudblood.
The poisonous word still burnt on the inside of his head like acid.
He was such a fake.
A pot calling the kettle black.
But one had to choose. And Severus would rather stand where he stood now, amongst his peers than … be alone.
It scared him. The prospect of having nobody.
He swallowed down the uncomfortable feeling in his throat.
“Right. I guess the visit’s not a complete waste of time then,” Severus commented much too late. Mulciber had already turned around for a quick chat with Crabbe and Goyle.
“Everybody, get into position,” Slughorn called out to them. The six Slytherin sixth-graders formed a circle around their Head of House, just as the Gryffindors assembled around McGonagall. Severus was a bit jealous of the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs. It sounded boring to interview a bunch of officials about their day-to-day activities, but the ministry would be a hell of a lot cheerier than where they were going.
To everyone what they deserved, he supposed. Dumbledore really was a bigot.
“Hurry up, boys. We only have one minute left until activation.”
Slughorn held out a silver key with a shiny green emerald fitted into its handle. Going by the sheer size of it, it would fit the doors to the Great Hall! A key as a portkey. Wow. The Auror department sure were showing off their intellect.
Severus put his hand over Macnair’s, Mulciber’s and Avery’s, just as Goyle’s and Crabbe’s plump fingers closed around his. It was an uncomfortable position as their hands were resting on top of each other like a sports team cheering themselves on before a match. He dared to take a glimpse towards the Gryffindors.
Potter, Black, Pettigrew, Lupin, Macdonald, Lily. He could hear them chatter about Aurors and how it was just that criminals were separated from society and That will be a warning to these snakes. Black’s words sounded like a curse, the way he spat out the syllables. Lily actually was opening and closing her mouth in a rapid succession, apparently reprimanding the other boy.
Or encouraging him.
Who knew. She could be so fickle with her feelings.
“Keep your eyes to yourself,” Macnair grunted into his ear. “You’re embarrassing us with your stalking. Just stop, Snape. Stop. You’re such a wimp!”
He bit down on the tip of his tongue to keep the rude remark to himself. Severus didn’t have the standing amongst his peers to survive challenging Macnair. Unlike that brute that was built like a tank, Severus was the runt of their pack. Not in height, but …
One day, he would upturn their hierarchy. Would put the others in their place! He would show them. Once he joined, once he could prove himself useful to their cause, he would rise to the top.
That he would.
One day.
But today … wasn’t this day.
He lowered his head until the thick strands of his hair covered his eyes. “Sorry.” At the same moment, the portkey wisped them all away.
Severus didn’t know how the ministry’s architects had achieved this, but Azkaban was actually less inviting a place than Spinner’s End.
The portkey had deposited them on a beach that was about two metres wide and already halfway underwater again as the tide was rising. Muddy puddles and putridly smelly algae covered the ground.
“My hair!” Macdonald’s cry was followed by her effort to put up the hood of her uniform. Strong winds chased over their heads, and the waves of the North Sea splattered against the rocky cliffs where land and water met, spreading tiny salty droplets across the air and their faces. Like the never-ending tears of those locked up in that blasted tower above them. Lighting chased across the horizon. The tower’s upper floors all disappeared into the stormy clouds that hung low in the sky.
McGonagall was also struggling to keep her eyes open as she pointed towards the prison tower and said something against the wind. The breeze was cutting into her skin and swallowed her words.
“WHAT?” Slughorn shouted just as he put the portkey chain over his head and let the silver key disappear underneath his neck collar. “MINERVA! WHAT DID YOU SAY?”
The man held his hands against his ears to ease the wind pressure. Severus and the other students grabbed their hoods like Macdonald had, and pulled them down. Only Black remained rooted to the rock he had climbed, with his hands firmly in his trouser pockets as he stared up ahead of the path. He seemed lost in his thoughts, not even minding the wind or rumble as thunder struck in the distance.
McGonagall pointed towards the tower, and it was clear what she wanted them to do. Seek refuge in the prison.
“I don’t think anything can live out here,” Lily shouted towards Potter who had grabbed her hand to help her across the wet rocks that had already caused Pettigrew to fall onto his face and cut his cheek on a razor-sharp stone. “There’s nothing to eat or drink! How does the ministry keep all those prisoners alive out here?”
Potter’s answer was lost to the winds as Severus had to turn away from the couple to not follow Pettigrew’s example. Quietly, he made sure to step right where Lupin’s feet had been, as the other boy walked right in front of him. He was pale as the full moon that was about to rise the very same night.
Since that incident in fifth year, Severus was always aware of the moon cycle. He knew that no matter how much Lupin starved himself as he appeared to be keen on doing for the past months, he’d still be too much wolf to handle for Severus on his own.
Ten hours until moonrise.
***
Azkaban was a triangular-shaped tower of black rock that stood tall and proud in the middle of this deserted island. There were hundreds of tiny windows but Severus saw no light, no movement behind them. At least ten floors. Ten windows per side. Thirty cells each floor. Times ten.
And yet, the entire place looked dead. Like something that was good at extinguishing all life within.
Something in his stomach began to painfully twist and turn at the thought of all those lives stacked on top of each other. Stuck in those prison cells. All those forgotten people.
He didn’t want to draw any closer. Not a foot.
His mind was screaming danger. Because … people that set a foot in there did not come out. That’s what his mother had told him in her gory bedtime stories. What he had read in their school books. He knew what it meant when people were sent here. All those faces on the front page of the Daily Prophet. Having your face portrayed there … it meant you would not be seen again. Ever.
The tower was cloaked in the emotions of so many that he could not filter them as his mind automatically took in that remnant of lives lived. Lives lost.
Severus didn’t want to do this. Didn’t want to see Azkaban from the inside.
He didn’t.
The group, though, moved quickly ahead to escape the storm, following the trodden path through the rocky, wet underground where the tides carried the water right up to the tower stairs at their highest point.
There was lightning and thunder and rain, and wind. And all Severus could think despite the unwelcoming weather was …
No.
He’d rather stay out here than go up there.
As if the tower itself was screaming in a thousand voices.
“Snape! Move!” Mulciber, the informal head of their ragtag Slytherin group, had noticed that Severus wasn’t coming along. He was two metres ahead – at the end of the Hogwarts students group. Impatience was etched into his face.
Didn’t he see what Severus was seeing? Didn’t he …
“Snape!” Mulciber demanded again, the prefect pin shone in the all-too-bright lightning that struck the sky, as he twisted his upper body backwards towards Severus. The boy’s uniform was drenched and hung off him like a dementor’s cloak. “MOVE!”
No. Severus didn’t want to go in there. Didn’t want to get any closer to that … thing.
Something just told him …that if he crossed the threshold to this tower … he wouldn’t come out the same person he was.
He couldn’t shut those voices out. No matter how much he focused on his Occlumency.
“SNAPE!”
That aggressive growl made him jump forward. Like a whipped dog, he hurried after Macnair with hunched-up shoulders, his heart pounding, his legs shaking with each step towards the black tower in front of them.
“I don’t like this place,” he whispered as soon as he had caught up to Avery, the second-lowest in their ranks. The boy’s stupidity was only outclassed by Severus’ low-quality blood.
“I can’t believe Uncle Alvernon has been stuck here for five years! Man! No wonder he never writes back. I don’t think they got any owls around here. Only seagulls.”
That, Severus suspected, was the least of your problems when you were housed in this shithole.
If he tried hard enough, he could pretend it was merely the wind that was talking to him. Telling him to leave.
***
There were two Aurors waiting for them at the entrance stairs to the tower. Both wore their uniform and had their wand in a sheath that was in a protective case around their right thigh. One of them seemed like an apprentice; he carried the lantern that had guided the students towards the tower. The other Auror relied on a walking stick. An ugly scar criss-crossed his face, it broadened his mouth as the corner had been sliced open at one point in his career, and the wound had only poorly scabbed over.
“Professors,” the experienced Auror greeted, raising his right hand. It was covered in a black glove. The fingers were rigid despite the overall movement; as if … there were no fingers underneath it at all.
McGonagall and Slughorn shook the two men’s hands just as the students huddled closer together to find cover from the rain. For once, both Slytherins and Gryffindors refrained from goading each other. They felt too miserable to come up with a good insult anyway. Macdonald’s teeth were chattering despite Lupin having lent her his cloak. The wolf stood there in nothing but his trousers and shirt, both stuck to his skin from the rain. What a freak of nature. He wasn’t even shaking from the cold Severus held the boy’s too-bright, yellow-brown eyes for a moment.
“It has been some time, Derek. And Rufus, my boy! So glad to see that you have made something out of yourself!”
Both Aurors greeted Slughorn like an old friend, although Severus could hardly tell whether the older one was smiling or grimacing. That scar tissue around his mouth was barely moving alongside his other muscles.
“Them’s all?” the older Auror grunted.
McGonagall let her eyes wander over them, counting each head. Apparently, she had so little trust in them that she figured one person could have already managed to fall into the North Sea. “Yes, six for each house,” she confirmed. “A lot of families prefer homeschooling or boarding schools outside Britain with the ongoing war and everything. It has been some bad years for Hogwarts. Numbers are dropping.”
“Could stand to be even lower if you ask me”, Mulciber muttered. “If we got rid of the Mudbloods, the number would be perfect.”
There was some hissing from the Gryffindor side. Especially Black and Potter looked at them with a murderous glare.
“We can do without blood purists like your lot”, Potter growled. “That would make Hogwarts truly perfect!”
Both sides exchanged a couple more insults. Severus didn’t say anything. He preferred to be forgotten. A bit like Pettigrew who was hiding behind Lupin.
“Alright, ladies and gents,” the older Auror finally said after finishing his smalltalk with the teachers. He knocked with his weird, gloved hand against the entrance door to the tower. “First, we’re going to go over some health and safety regulations in the canteen. Then we’re going to put you into groups to do some exploring.” He huffed. “Whatever you do, don’t approach the dementors. They will eat you.”
Potter’s face dropped at the thought of having his soul sucked out of him. Crabbe and Goyle were too thick to understand the Auror’s joke, but Mulciber shuddered all over.
“What did he mean?” Avery squeaked next to Severus. “What did he mean by that?”
Severus reluctantly followed the group inside. He was the last one, and he could feel the gruff Auror’s dead-fish eyes on him. The man had been scanning each student as they had come in as if to assess their threat level. Severus nervously held the man’s gaze, then … the entrance door snapped shut behind him.
It was as if the walls of the tower were closing in on him. The screams in his head became even more unclear as they overlapped.
***
The Aurors had sat them down in the wardens’ canteen, a dingy room with four tables and a small kitchen area. There wasn’t a stove, just a sink, an open cabinet with some glasses and plates, and the tiny, chimney-like food elevator that connected the canteen to the elven-run kitchen in the basement.
On their way to the canteen, they had passed the first set of cells of the ground floor –an underwhelmingly row of metal doors. No special locks or anything. Like in the animal shelter his elementary school class had once visited, each cell had a name plate with a registration number, the day of intake and, in this case, a release date. It had been confusing how low the numbers had been, but the grim Auror (Derek Brode), had explained that the ground-level section was reserved for idiots who hadn’t paid their fines in time and first-time offenders of non-violent crimes. Theft, scam, drug dealing, homosexual acts.
Macdonald and Lily, both of which were the only Mudbloods other than Severus himself, had dared to question the Auror on that. Hypocrites. It wasn’t like the Muggle world was any better. Homosexuality had only been decriminalised about ten years ago. Their upset cries had found deaf ears with Brode. The Auror had merely stared them down into silence. “Law’s the law,” he had growled. “I don’t make ‘em. I enforce them.”
The canteen had a tiny window, and Severus tried to get close to it because the ceiling lights in Azkaban were shoddy, but the table next to it and its four chairs were taken by Macnair, Mulciber, Crabbe and Goyle. Avery, the traitor, had actually sat down next to Slughorn, the young Auror and Macdonald, who seemed to make gooey eyes at the young Auror.
With a sigh, Severus walked towards the only table that still held free seats; because McGonagall and Pettigrew sat there – apparently, Potter, Black and Lupin had preferred to sit with Lily rather than their friend. Go figure.
The mousy Gryffindor boy was busy studying the floor tiles.
How had that idiot managed to qualify for advanced Defence classes? Never mind. Avery was hardly any better. He could hear the other boy chat about his prison uncle with Slughorn at the other table. The teacher was rather tight-lipped; not that Avery noticed. Dear old Sluggy probably didn’t want to admit to knowing a convicted murderer in front of his former student.
Meanwhile, Brode began lecturing them on when to use their magic (essentially: never), and gave them some waivers that absolved the ministry of any responsibility should any student come to harm during their visit. Pettigrew’s hand was shaking so much as he signed the paper that he ripped a hole in it.
“I am not good with stressful situations,” Pettigrew explained at McGonagall’s frown.
“Is there anything you're good at?” Severus mumbled that got him an evil eye from his transfigurations teacher.
Worth it. Pettigrew’s eyes were wet with unshed tears.
“I have rarely seen such an undisciplined group of good-for-nothings!” Brode growled, finally fed up with the chit-chatter that filled the canteen. Instantly, the tables grew silent. “You lot may think yourselves tough, because you can transform a mouse into a pin cushion, but if you approached even one of our guests on your own, you’d leave this island in pieces. All that’s between you and those psychopaths is ten centimetres of magically-enhanced steel, an army of dementors, and us Aurors. So don’t annoy me, got it?”
“Yes, sir,” the students mumbled in chorus.
“Oi, you there,” Brode snarled at Mulciber who had dared to roll his eyes. “Anything you’d like to share with the group?”
“Not particularly. Sir.”
Brode zoomed in on the Slytherin bench. “Your name?”
“Marcus Mulciber.” The boy made sure to smile as angelic as he could.
“Quite a familiar name. I imagine you must be looking forward to meeting some of your relatives today.”
The Gryffindor boys began snickering, drawing a hiss from the Slytherins.
“Derek,” Slughorn intervened, just as the mood turned sour, “maybe Rufus could show my students around? As a former Slytherin, he can probably relate better to them.”
The younger Auror sat beside Macdonald gave a benign nod. His brown, wavy hair and thick eyebrows gave him the look of a lion. “It would be my honour, Sir.”
“As you wish.” Brode sounded cold.
***
For once, Severus felt like thanking Slughorn with all his heart. Scrimgeour was wonderful in comparison to that grump Brode. The young Auror actually took his time to explain to them about the different jobs, the daily schedule, how newcomers were processed, how parole worked, he even showed them the different security check-points on a map of the tower.
“If you get lost,” the Auror had told them, pointing with his finger on one of the evacuation plans behind glass that were hanging next to the stairs on each floor, “never go anywhere with this red marker. That’s an area with stationed dementors. Blue and green are your friends.”
“What does black stand for?” Mulciber nodded towards the black lines scattered throughout the tower. Unlike with blue, green and red, it wasn’t a solid block of cells but a haphazard, unconnected number of corridors. Except for the ninth floor - that one was black throughout.
“Those are magic-dampening areas,” Scrimgeour explained. “For mind readers and other freaks that are dangerous even without a wand.”
Freaks.
Severus stared at the black pathway near the top of the tower.
If the ministry ever got a hold of him, that’s where he’d end up.
It was a weird thought.
He enforced his occlumency shields to suppress those shouty voices in his head. Better not show any signs that something was wrong with him. Lest Scrimgeour would put him into one of the black corridors pre-emptively.
Was he going insane?
Maybe.
Or maybe he had always been a little insane.
Run, the tower seemed to demand.
Or I will keep you.
Severus’ eyes remained fixated on those colour-coded pathways as he burnt the tower map into his mind. Just in case.
“Hey, Mr Auror,” Avery piped up, apparently already having forgotten Scrimgeour’s name. “My uncle’s Alvernon Avery. Is there a chance we could visit him? My family hasn’t heard from him in ages.”
Scrimgeour’s face didn’t fall. Instead, it remained unnaturally unmoving. Then his eyes shifted away from Avery. “I am afraid that’s not part of the booked tour.”
“What about –“ Macnair started, but Scrimgeour didn’t allow any further requests for family reunions. “Let’s move on to the holding cell. We actually have a release scheduled for tomorrow, and the inmate has graciously agreed to let you interview him.”
***
“Why are there so few wardens?” Severus dared to ask as they made their way through one of the corridors with green-tinted ceiling lights. There was some cursing, some screaming behind the cell doors, but by now, the group had become accustomed to those sounds. It was weird how easily one disassociated themself from the suffering behind those walls.
“Well, it’s Saturday,” Scrimgeour explained. “Over the weekend, we always have one Auror team stationed on the island, and one team on passive duty. People would go berserk if we kept them from their families on the weekend. Besides, you don’t need a lot of people to run this place. It sort of runs itself. The dementors are good at keeping the prisoners compliant. We mostly need staff when there are newcomers, executions or leavers.”
It was eery how few personnel actually worked in the prison. So far, it had only been the two Aurors and one guard for each section. Not that the wardens were patrolling their respective thirty or so cells. They were busy listening to the radio or filling out the Daily Prophet’s crossword puzzle.
“Has anybody ever escaped Azkaban?” Mulciber asked with a glint in his eye. Severus could imagine what he was plotting.
“None.” Scrimgeour didn’t even have to think. “Azkaban’s the safest prison in the northern hemisphere. The prisoners never leave their cells, so there are no fights between them. And since we rarely enter a cell, there have been no major incidents between guards and prisoners either.”
“They don’t go to the canteen? How do they eat then?” Crabbe asked with a horrified look on his chubby face.
“The prison elves take the food directly to the cells and remove leftovers,” Scrimgeour explained. “No physical contact needed. In fact, we are forbidden from entering any cell without getting back-up first. Sometimes the newcomers pretend to choke on some food, but this prison policy keeps us safe at all times.”
Severus let his hand trail over the cell walls as they moved down the green corridor. Those muffled sounds sounded so much lonelier in his ears than before.
“If the elves deliver food, they also deliver presents and letters to the prisoners, right?” Avery bit his lip.
Scrimgeour refused to answer. The young Auror pushed forward towards the next set of stairs.
***
The prisoner in the ground floor’s holding cell (apparently a fake seer who had conned people out of their money according to Scrimgeour) was barely more than a shallowly breathing skeleton. Severus could not avert his gaze from that ghastly sight, as the man was rocking back and forth on the wooden bed. Someone had put clothes on the floor, but they had remained untouched. Instead, the prisoner wore a bedsheet-thin grey uniform with gashes all over – from all the clawing that the man did. His arms were littered in scars, too, and so were his neck and face.
“Don’t wanna talk,” the man mumbled with crazed out eyes that showed more white than anything else. “Too late to talk. Don’t wanna talk. Too late to talk.”
“We had a deal, Arminius,” Scrimgeour said sharply. While he had been rather relaxed with the students, his voice turned almost aggressive as he spoke to the prisoner and pointed his wand into the man’s face. “You get to go home one week earlier if you speak with the students!”
The man stared at the six Slytherins that were standing in the holding cell in a half-circle. No words left his mouth.
“Arminius! You were so eager to demand we release you a week earlier! You have been annoying us for months with that! TALK!”
The man’s eyes wandered over the group of Slytherins before those white orbs settled on Severus. Arminius rose his hand like a person looking for salvation before it fell down on his bed once more. His mouth opened in a silent scream.
Severus tried to take a step back from that man who had been driven to insanity by Azkaban, but Crabbe and Goyle were like immovable statues behind his back.
“ARMINIUS! We will put you back into your cell! You know Derek’s got no patience for your bullshit!”
“It’s okay,” Slughorn said. He sounded uncomfortable. “I am sure the students have an excellent idea now about what it means to go to prison.”
Scrimgeour sent a stinging hex towards the inmate who didn’t even yelp. He only shuddered as if an electric shock had passed through his mangled body.
Severus pushed against Crabbe once more to leave this horrible place. He couldn’t stand the smell of the toilet hole in the ground anymore. Even the constant rush of running water (to take away the waste put in that hole?) made him feel sick.
“Are you sure, Arminius,” Scrimgeour asked, “that you would prefer to go back to the black block for one more week?”
The man stared ahead. Any resemblance that he knew where he was or why was gone.
His eyes met Severus’ once more. And his mouth opened for a single syllable that never left his mouth based on the lack of reaction by the other students. Yet Severus heard the word loud and clearly echo through his head.
Run.
Severus’ eyes widened, and he regretted not controlling his body. Because Arminius began to smile. His mouth grew wide, revealing a set of black teeth.
“Run,” Arminius whispered hoarsely, causing each of the students to flinch.
***
Once they were back outside (and every Slytherin had become quiet. Even Mulciber), Scrimgeour let the cell door shut close. He tapped against the plate with his wand in a specific pattern to look the door before turning back towards them. Severus caught Mulciber stare at the movement greedily.
Scrimgeour turned around with a fake smile: “Well, you now saw what the cells are like. Of course, the beds in the other cells are made of indestructible steel instead, so nobody can create a weapon. The holding cell is more like a transition point and doesn’t need that level of security.”
“Is the Auror training this rubbish that you’d lose against a person swinging a wooden splinter at you?” Mulciber’s comment made the other Slytherins break out into laughter. Only Severus remained dead silent.
Scrimgeour blinked. “It’s more about what the prisoners could do to themselves, actually. Desperate people are the most dangerous sort of people. They don’t act rationally.”
***
They had passed the Gryffindor group just a moment ago. Scrimgeour had stopped Brode for a quick chat with a lot of hand gestures, probably to tell him about the unhelpful prisoner that refused to speak about his experiences in the holding cell. It was one of the corridors in the green block, but the stairs they were heading for had a red arrow above them. And here Severus had hoped not to meet a dementor today. Not when he already felt overwhelmed by so much desperation that had seeped into these walls even after their owners had passed long ago.
The Gryffindor boys that were usually quick to throw insults into their direction remained quiet behind their Auror. They seemed oddly withdrawn. McGonagall, too, was ashen. Macdonald’s face was even covered in tear-stains as she still clutched Lupin’s cloak. The dementors had gotten to her. What a cry-baby. Had she seen a low NEWT score or what?
As the two Aurors held their chat, Severus spotted some movement from the corner of his eye. Avery had traipsed off around the corner into one of the black corridors their Auror guide had been avoiding at all costs until now.
Severus let his gaze swivel between the student group and Avery. Brode would explode in the boy’s face if he noticed!
Go, the voices still demanded.
Hurry.
“What are you doing?” Severus whispered harshly after catching up to Avery. He grabbed the other boy by the sleeves of his Hogwarts uniform to drag him back into the green corridor, but Avery resisted the pull.
“I think he has to be around here!” Avery stated. “He hasn’t been anywhere we’ve been to so far!”
“Your uncle’s a bloody murderer!” Severus hissed. “He’ll be in the red section!”
“No way he’d be with those monsters! It was only Muggles, and he was defending his property!”
“So what?”
“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” Brode’s voice boomed across the floor, drawing not only a startled shout by the Hogwarts student group (and wasn’t Potter squealing like a little girl, that ugly asshole who was clutching Lily’s hand like a lifeline), but also a noise complaint from the cell doors. Fists hit the doors, thumped against the walls in protest.
Severus could feel the ground shaking, as the voices in his head grew louder with the rise of emotions in the cells.
Not long.
Today.
It’s coming.
Severus stumbled backwards until he tripped over his feet, landing with his upper body in the green corridor. His eyes rested on the path ahead, though. The ceiling lights were dimmed and held no tint like the green or blue areas. The lights were buzzing like an angry fly.
Only then did he notice that the prisoners in those cells had stopped their shouts and knocking the very same second.
“I was only looking for my uncle!” Avery rushed back towards Slughorn who grabbed his arm and held out the other as Brode had his wand drawn and directed at Avery. Severus did not dare move a muscle as he lay on the cold ground of the corridor. Even the Gryffindors did not laugh at his position. They were just as tense. And stared at Brode’s wand tip.
“Derek,” Slughorn tried to placate the older Auror. “It was a stupid boy’s –“
“Hey, brat. You can join your uncle in his cell for all I care!” Brode growled. “Consider this your final warning. Nobody steps out of line under my watch!” His eyes now narrowed in on Severus beneath his feet. “Do you need an extra invitation? Are you hard of hearing? Get over here, NOW.”
Then the Auror put away his wand. Slughorn and Avery both sighed collectively in relief.
Up. the voices in his head demanded. Up.
Under the jeering eyes of the Gryffindors, Severus also stood up and moved back towards the Slytherin group. “Sorry.” He cast down his eyes to show his submission to Brode. That usually worked with the Slytherins, and Brode seemed to accept it, too. He pushed past Severus to lead his Gryffindor group towards the holding cell.
“Can we see the worst criminal that you got?” he heard Potter ask Brode. “Like You-Know-Who’s right-hand henchman or something.”
Lupin turned his head back and zoomed in on Severus’ face. The damn wolf had caught him snooping. Quickly, Severus turned around to follow Scrimgeour and the other Slytherins towards the red section above.
***
“Don’t touch anything,” Scrimgeour warned, this time he was much more serious than before. Severus could understand why. There were dementors everywhere. Those black-cloaked ghosts patrolled the cell block and took no notice of them. Crabbe and Goyle began to shiver next to Severus who was clutching to his occlumency shields. Like spider webs, the dementor’s magic seeped into one’s mind, one’s heart, until they had enough hold of somebody to break them.
He mustn’t give them even one inch.
Avery pressed himself against Severus as if to seek shelter.
“Rufus,” Slughorn called out from behind Severus. “May I summon a Patronus? I must confess this dour mood is getting to me.”
“Sorry,” Scrimgeour answered with a grimace. “No Patroni allowed in the red section. The dementors take it for an attack. It’s reserved for bad situations.”
Slughorn sighed. Severus could see the man shaking as well. The dementors had made the temperatures drop at least five degrees from the already not-so-hot prison.
“How do you deal with their effects when you work here every day?” Macnair, who always liked to know more about beasts, asked quietly. “Is there a way to get used to them or –“
“Sadly not.” Scrimgeour moved a tad quicker through the corridor, expertly stepping around the dementors that floated around aimlessly across the room. Never interacting with them but those not-faces, those…. hoods … they always moved with their movements. Like attack dogs focused on their prey. Waiting for the command to strike.
Strike, it echoed through his head.
Severus put one of his hands against his temple and surreptitiously clawed at his hair, at his skin – to rip that voice out of his mind.
“Eh. You just learn to appreciate the green and blue block. It’s not like we have to patrol the red section that often anyway. Nothing ever happens up here. The dementors make sure of that.” Scrimgeour furrowed his eyebrows. “Though Derek, I mean Mr Brode, he is quite skilled at ignoring the dementors' effects. Some wizards are like thar. In the black section, for example, there are some prisoners who –“
Suddenly, there was a mechanic click as the announcement system flared to life. The sound was bad, there was no other word for it. White noise filled the air as Scrimgeour looked up at the ceiling where the sound came from with an alarmed look.
It wasn’t a voice. Just somebody breathing loudly into the microphone. It sounded laboured as if the person had been running. Then, with a click, the announcement system fell silent again.
“What was that, Rufus?” Slughorn asked. “One of the wardens?”
“I … “Scrimgeour bit his lip. “I don’t know.”
He looked towards the warden at the glass-walled station who was no longer reading the newspaper. The man had also put it down to look up towards the ceiling. He seemed just as puzzled.
Scrimgeour’s throat jumped as he swallowed before asking: “Would you be fine with the students for a moment if I took you back down to the green section, Sir? I’d like to check on the announcement room on the ground level. We sometimes have technical issues. The magic fails, especially since the public budget has been cut in half to support the ministry’s war effort.”
“Of course.” Slughorn rubbed his arms. “I am looking forward to it, in fact. As fascinating as this was, I could do without the dementors. It still leaves a bad taste in my mouth to consider Crouch’s proposal. I hope he doesn’t get it through the Wizengamot. Executing people without a trial …”
“That’s politics for you, Sir. Not a lot you and me can do about it.” Scrimgeour was about to turn around to lead them back to the stairs with the green arrow, when he stilled abruptly –
“Excuse me, kid! What are you doin–“
There was a roar. An inhuman battle cry, and all Severus could see were black shadows throwing themselves at them. As Avery took his hand away from one of the cell doors.
“I just wanted to read the name plate –“
“DOWN!” Scrimgeour yelled, and Slughorn threw himself on his students, bringing some of them to the ground in a big messy heap of flailing limbs. The teacher had his arms wide apart to increase his volume as he shielded them with his body.
Severus could not react – everything was going too fast. Mulciber’s body rested on his legs, keeping him pinned underneath to look up into the ceiling lights where the dementors gathered around them like predatory birds.
All he heard were the two shouts of Expecto Patronum and then a white marlin and a lion broke out of the adults’ wands as their first and last line of defence.
And there was laughter in his head.
Shrill and high and … triumphant.
Severus saw those cloaked claws reaching for them, only for one of the patroni to bash them away. Over and over.
It has begun, the voice whispered almost fondly like a lover into his ear.
Welcome, my little mice. As the tower is now … mine.
The walls and ceiling began to shake as thunder struck the tower, and the lights began trembling above them. On. Off. On. Off. As the dementors battled Slughorn’s and Scrimgeour’s Patronus.
“Get downstairs!” Scrimgeour shouted from where he stood between them and the attacking dementors in the middle of the corridor, waving his wand as darkness and light took turns each second. “Get back to the green section! NOW!”
And the students scattered apart like a herd of prey animals.