[Azkaban] Jail Birds

[Tamis Raynor]

01 July 2008
Time: ???

Splat…. Splat… Splat.

From somewhere in the depths of the cell, water budded on the cold ceiling and then plummeted mercilessly below with a loud echoing splash against the foul flooring. Exactly five seconds later, just enough time for the ears to readjust to the first splash, another fell. As it had not for two hours straight and as it would for days, if not weeks, to come. Dementors were no longer used at Azkaban, or at least not as widely used. A cold mist that had nothing to do with the unheated stone drifted thinly though the small slit in the cell door. There was at least one wandering around. But dementors were not the only tactics that could be used against prisoners. Raynor had been an auror. She knew. There was no running water in Azkaban… or pipes, yet the water dripped and at perfect intervals.

Ignoring it, the petite woman leaned against the wall in her simple black and white striped robes, trying not to think about how long it had been since said wall had been cleaned – or if it ever had been cleaned. But concentrating on the wall was better than pondering over the sanitary conditions of the floor.

She did not know how much time has past since she had been thrown into one of the cells. It was high security, she knew that much at least. Near the top of the tall, stark, seemingly door-less parallelogram. Was it night? Morning? Afternoon? In the endless dank dark of the cell it was impossible to tell. She let out a slow deep breath, its frosty white the only clue that the black surrounding her was just a lack of light and the not the color of this cold hell. Hours. At the most she had only been here a few hours, and the place was already getting to her. She had lasted over a month before, and now only needed to last a month more.

She huffed a laugh. Oh yes, she “owned” a month for threatening the Minister of Magic against taking away her subject so many months ago. Thrown into a prison for dark wizards because she had warned them against something that made it easy for the Deva to take over her school. Her reward? She was given a position she managed to accomplish by the skin of her teeth, and then, when she had finished the first round in the spot, they threw her into Azkaban. Corrion had made it clear that Raynor could have bought her way out of it, and Tamis could have clearly afforded it, but her pride would not allow it. Though, in hindsight, this was not going to help.

Nor had not informing anyone that did not know already help either. Especially not Alfonz Jedynak, though why she felt compelled to have informed him irked her. The man had enough problems of his own, and, by his papers at Hogwarts had left the school anyhow for the summer. Hopefully, he never would. Her dignity had been tarnished enough as it was.

The sound of rubble shifting somewhere on the other side of the six by six foot windowless cell caught the Headmistress’ ears and she let out another white breathed sigh. She did not believe she was alone, but nor was she that desperate for company yet to call whoever her fellow prisoner was out of whatever corner s/he had taken refuge in. More than anything, she was afraid of who it might be, or rather, who the person might be now. Tamis had been here mere hours. And she at least had held onto the hope of being able to lead.

Who knew how long her companion had been and how much damage had been done?

[Sienna London]

If one wanted to get a shiver down their spines, they could have counted how many months it had been since Sienna had been in jail. January, February, March, April, May, June, July... could it really come close to six months?

Sienna did not want to think about it even in the slightest. Contemplating six months in Azkaban could have probably ripped her brain in two, for she probably would have screamed until she was sure her vocal chords could bleed. That's how she had reacted on the third-month anniversary. A scream without depth... at that point she had be tranquilized into a deep sleep. For an anniversary, she couldn't have asked for anything more...

Yet to her chagrin, that was the last time anyone bothered to use a tranquilizer on her. And for that, she had to be sober, be so awake as each day and night passed without fleeting concern for her well-being. Instead, she could only keep feigning sleep, as she did whenever the wardens thought it to be a great idea to give her cellmates. Yet it was easy to understand why no one would want to be with her. She said the worst things to them, she gave them the creepiest stares. All she basically did was test her own limits, and the limits of the others. The last had been of great relief to her, and for that, she was alone and ready to sleep for a week before it became another grand idea to place yet another hapless woman in her cell.

Today she pretended to keep sleeping. Or rather, pretended to be dead. Ever since the new woman in the cell had entered, Sienna had not made one move, nor a peep in her position of her awful little cot. If she wanted to continue longer, she could have only hoped to play tricks on the fellow prisoner's mind, making them wonder just how alone they could be.

Sienna opened her eyes, staring straight at the stone cold wall. For a day that could have been a beautiful day, it was still dark, as if light had been too scared to enter in the cell fully. Sienna remembered hating just that. But the darkness became her friend again, and she could no longer bicker with it. Just as she could no longer resist the cacophonous sound of that dripping water. To her it sounded like an ongoing symphony filled with flair and good timing. Everything was her friend, she thought.... everything but this despicable woman opposite Sienna.

She felt that she couldn't keep imagining that the wall was Wilson, the man she once loved. The entertainment was gone temporarily, and she had nothing left to do but to establish her presence to her cellmate. Her body ached as she moved, but she made no sound as she turned over, looking over to the woman, and seeing who it might be.

..... That was all she thought. She knew this woman's name. She was no petty thief. Yet she was a criminal alright. Thinking just that afterwards, she gave a smile, one in a long while. Her dry, cracked lips gave in to the pressure and began to bleed, oozing a cold sincerity to her smile. No words could bleed out, though. She could only smile and stare. Despite her lips growing redder, she was as cold as a statue, and with her deep, beautiful eyes, they were two areas of abyss, sure to drown....

[Tamis Raynor]

Beware of the shadows, but always carry your wand in the light. It was another one of those Auror proverbs. The shadows were the most likely place for criminal activity, the first place one would look to find illicit activities. But the truth was, that those who hide in the shadows are doing just that; hiding. It was in the broad light, where everyone believes the world is safe that the true criminals are. The ones that don’t have to hide in the shadows or are unafraid to do what they believe is necessary. Shadows for the most part are harmless and only dare venture out if they believe you are beneath them, so it was unwise to let your guard down; never hint that you might be afraid and they will keep to their sanctuaries.

It was the speech often given about Knockturn Alley when a green rascal questioned unwisely its continued existence, and it was a speech that she reflected on and took to heart now. Raynor had known for a while now that she was not alone.

The guards that had “assisted” her had treated the cell as if they expected it to jump up and eat them when they had undone the complicated goblin-designed locks on the door. Or rather should she say, what might have jumped out of it. They had been all too pleased to throw her in, shut it, and reestablish security – she doubted they would ever come back to this wing of the prison until the month was up. Who was it that they were so worried about? Tamis had reason to question. Her auror days had not been uneventful and a good many of Azkaban’s inhabitants were on life sentence – most cases had be in order to require the extreme of the wizarding prison. Was it someone that would be all too happy to strangle her in the middle of the night? In the depth and dark of the cell, Tamis tried not to think of it.

The majority of the inhabitants were the threats during the day, that was why they were here, but after so many months, so many years, so many decades, they adapted to the shadows. That particular drive to do what is necessary, that boldness and feeling of invincibility would be crushed by a life in the shadows with its dripping symphony of water and other horrors. They lost motivation and focused purely on survival; warped, humiliated creatures focused on self preservation as a last resort. It was why, even with the dementors no longer present, that Azkaban worked; it simply took longer now. With the dementors looming down on the prisoners, sucking away happiness and leaving them with their deepest darkest memories, most were broken in a month, two tops. Without their presence… four or five was the average. So was the Headmistress afraid? No. But she was cautious.

But "cautious" was not enough for her to not have grown tired of this game.

“We’re going to be here together for a while,” she stated in a resign matter. “But feel free to keep up the charade as long as you want, the peace does not bother me.”

At least… she hoped someone was really there. She did not want to believe the foul place could overcome her that quickly.