Azkaban for a Mudblood - Glimmer of hope?

Waking up in what seemed like a cell without light...a single window letting in a thin curtain of moonlight allowing him to see the cracked and unkempt walls of his new home...Clark sighed...a rare moment of light but which would not be useful to him... through the bars of the window he could see the agitated sea "that of the north" said to himself the young wizard turned squib or Muggle... feeling the dust reaching his heart he could not help getting out of his thoughts... the anger of the gift awakened by the pain... even before being able to scream or banging on the walls, feeling the dementors coming, a feminine but crazy laugh was heard and very quickly a voice echoed "already ? Poor new guy ahahahaahah " something in that laugh irritated even Clark's quiet part but before they could even respond the dementors began to suck the joy out of Clark, causing him that familiar pain all over again...

Clark fell back into this strange state...feeling the anger slowly fading...the pain caused him more visions...he saw himself in a cemetery behind a castle as gloomy as this one...on a similar island to this one...the same rough seas...when he saw dementors he knew...real or not...he would end up in this cemetery...aurors were digging a grave...he seemed to be the only one to see the light which surrounded the corpse...feeling that he had no hope he did not resist the impulse to touch the lifeless body of the dead wizard...the light shining so brightly upon contact with Clark that he thought an explosion was coming...he found himself in the cell again...the anger gone...the dementors leaving as if they were no longer interested in him...like if he was already dead...feeling the dust reaching his heart without hurting him at all...he wondered where was the pain ? Then he felt the dust pass through his heart again...the so familiar pain was felt again...a despairing laugh filled Clark's cell and the same feminine voice rang out "hey new boy ! Barely one day and you're already crazy ? Welcome to the club ahahaahah ! " the crazy laughter even seemed to have a touch of mad charm...remembering Parasite's sentence a few months ago on toxic women and its taste surely shared with him...this...impossible...Clark thought to himself...he loved...no he loves Hermione...a voice inside him that he couldn't silence said "but she's dead"...

Clark ignored the harsh and dry voice of the stranger who continued despite everything "Already dead ? These wizards...weaker and weaker..." the same crazy but charming laugh sounded...then the woman continued "I can see you...you know...pretty young to end up here...the aurors who dropped you off were talking about life imprisonment..." after a long moment of silence she added "what did you do to end up here ? Come on ! Tell me little guy " Clark heard a whisper coming from the wall to his right "...it's no fun when no one is tortured by the floating skeletons...".

He moved closer to the wall, to look through a crack but as he stuck his head to the crack to look he saw a brown eye with such dementia that the sight made him step back and stumble to the ground...he then heard the woman talking to herself..." no wonder... the dementors act as guardians but above all as executioners... one day and I already have visions... so i can't imagine more..." said the young Clark to himself ...finally looking carefully at the floor of his cell...filled with cracks...insects towards certain cracks...a straw as a bed...his white outfit with black stripes did not bother him...but his size was twice too big...running his hands over his face and hair he realized...the gift had taken years of his life...his body must have been at least twice it's age before...he didn't like having his hair that long...it reminded him of happy times with his mother...he sat in the dark and lost himself in thought...Hermione...his mother ...Parasite...he had lost everyone...he couldn't fall asleep...hearing the other prisoners screaming...between madness...dementia...torture...arguing...and the woman in the cell to the right of his, who was talking all alone...a Death Eater if he had heard correctly...

She seemed obsessed with Voldemort, the worst type of loyalty according to Parasite's memories he had seen...obsession giving space to love ? Or love and obsession ? If it were that simple...it's like being afraid of snakes and only dreaming about them...Between fear and fascination...dark arts could explain this...otherwise why would dark wizards be so common in wizarding history...she would just need to feel a greater connection with someone for this so-called loyalty to disappear...but she ended up here...people don't like to admit that they chose wrong...subconsciously she must know it...even if her dark lord returns...he won't choose a dog...somewhere Clark felt pity for the Death Eaters who, like her, remained here...tortured...hoping for the return of a lord as neurotic as Tom...he did not deserve such devotion...a voice inside him seemed to be mocking him "try to run away as much as you can...you'll end up thinking about her...Hermione...she would have lived a beautiful and happy life without you..." Clark ignored this voice with painful words...he knew it...no need to remind him...in this cell he didn't have many options to occupy his mind...not to think about her...he feared a possible vision concerning her...

Finally the anger returned before he could realize it...and the dementors with it...same vision...only that...after touching the body this time he found himself in an equally dark room in what seemed to him to be Azkaban... facing a wizard...this one puted his hands on Clark's head making him see more things...he could see his first year at Hogwarts... but without him...a second...a third...and so on...until the seventh...Voldemort back...dying at Potter's hands...he could see Hermione alive...with Ron...a pang in the heart and a heaviness in his stomach he watched Hermione have a happy life...with Ron...she would even have had children...if only he hadn't been there...if he hadn't existed...the vision stopped...the anger long gone giving way to a sadness that seemed to engulf Clark...the woman then said to him as if she felt the state of the young wizard "none of that here, hang on, tell me instead why you ended up surrounded by the dark lord's servants ? Here...dementors comes daily..." Clark replied to try to get out of this suffocating sadness "I killed someone...no...I killed lots of people if you count the aurors..." the crazy laughter sounded again and the voice seemed almost melodious "aurors don't count, they always have others...naive hypocrites ready to die for chimeras " the laughter resonated in turn...it seemed to become darker and darker...Clark then replied "in that case...I killed a crazy immortal and a crazy old man..." hearing the stranger stick to the wall he heard her add in an increasingly crazy voice "and why did you have them killed ? A desire ? They kept you from sleeping ? They owed you something ? They were dirty mudbloods ? Weak ? " Clark then responded in a voice that betrayed the madness that was slowly taking hold of him "they killed my mother and the girl I loved..." adding in an almost faint voice "they would have had a better life if I didn't exist" the woman wanted to answer but Clark quickly said "Dumbledore won't kill anyone now that I've burst his skull...and I'm a mudblood..." the laughter that started in the first half of the sentence stopped...he heard the woman move and moan out loud "a miserable mudblood talking to me".

The days passed, it felt like eternity to Clark but barely a month had passed, the routine settled in, anger of the gift, torture of the dementors, sometimes the woman probably out of boredom spoke to him anyway, strangely Clark imagined her smiling more and more each time she said to him " not bad for a mudblood" to which he always answered her "not bad for a pureblood stupid enough to follow a mixed blood", at first she had taken it rather badly but between two tortures of dementors this kind of thing seemed fast insignificant... the feeling of having one's soul gripped by a throbbing pain... in these places pride had long since given way to madness anyway...their talks mostly revolved around murder and torture...she had asked him to tell her about Dumbledore's death at least a hundred times...a strange friendship had formed between the two prisoners...Clark had even talked about the visions...but not about the dust that had returned to every part of his body...he felt the Tooth virus slowly disappearing...as if the dust thanks to the vision was slowly giving him back his powers... the don's anger seemed to grow stronger...except when he was talking to this stranger...she was crazy, but so was he...one day they were talking about Voldemort, she seemed to end up believing him...so Clark added a ready-made sentence that he had seen in Parasite's memories "A blind allegiance like yours...towards him...prohibits the choice and authenticity brought by knowledge...your loyalty will only give you the place of a dog for him..." she had become very silent...Clark understood that this silence marked the end of their discussion for the day...the next day they ended up talking about Hermione, this time Clark was the one stopping the chat saying " i don't care, she was supposed to live without me...even if it was like this...with this dumb, stupid, useless Weasley...".

The prisoner then said to him, convinced that he was still listening, "you avenged her by killing your weird professor and you even killed Dumbledore, even Voldemort didn't dare to confront him at Hogwarts...it's surely madness that makes me so weak...but don't be so hard on yourself...my husband wouldn't do that for me, no wizard in his right mind would...you have the right to forgive yourself if you feel responsible...the dark lord would have never done such a thing for anyone...before meeting you i wouldn't mind it but i can't help asking myself why i gave so much for someone who wouldn't do this much for me..." Clark then replied "you're sadistic, crazy, you like to kill, but under torture you have a heart ? Such beauty..." two crazy laughs resonated together...like a heartbeat...brought together by torture and dementia...Clark added muttering in a voice only him could hear " If he came back and you could get out of here you wouldn't say the same thing...but thank you...".

Those two soul was brought together through torture and insanity...as the only human contact influencing each other into a well of madness...a strange relationship had formed...later Fudge and the others regretted not having Clark killed...what would come out of Azkaban would terrorize them more than the dark lord did...all this because he grew to care for this prisoner more than anything else...