Don't Leave.

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Chapter Twenty-Three: Don't Leave.

My dreams were filled with darkness. A tall tower stood in the middle of a rocky island in the middle of a dark rough sea. Around the tower, dementors watched guard, their cloaks moving against the noticeable wind patterns. I was trapped in a cell in Azkaban, the small window didn't give any indication of where in the tower I was. Looking around, there were noticeable engravings on the wall; I crouched down, running my fingers over the words, Remus, James, Lily, Frank, Alice, Marleen and Harry. It was written by the space where the prisoner would've slept, there was no soft surface to sleep on, just the stone floor and a little bit of hay packed into a pillow. Tally marks filled the wooden door, from top to bottom, there wasn't an inch of the door that hadn't been carved into.

On the other wall the phrase "My name is Sirius Black, and I did not kill my best friend" that phrase was everywhere on the walls. I bowed my head in respect, taking a whole two-minute silence for the people these names belonged to. On the floor were two bowls, one for water and one for food - they were treated like dogs here, on the dirty floor, and just a bucket to use as a toilet. The smell in here, I couldn't imagine it.

I stood and walked to the door, looking back at the engraved name on the wall. Pushing against the wooden door, it swung open to a cold dark corridor. There were fire torches at even intervals, the immortal flame burning without anything to burn, along the corridors dementors floated past, looking into the cells through a small hole in the door before moving on.

I was aimlessly wandering around Azkaban, not sure what I was meant to see here. No dementors were on this floor, but I could see them floating about outside as the harsh winds funnelled in from the permanently open windows.

BOOM.

The building exploded.

Around me, a stone fell, and dust bellowed in from the south side of the tower like an oncoming fog cloud. Several dementors fell dead, and that unnerved me, they were immortal, some of them being alive for a millennium now lay dead. Following the dust, the draft that was immitted from the huge blast was freezing, the spray from the sea fitting my face as I approached a set of broken doors.

Bellatrix Lestrange.

Rabastan Lestrange.

Rodolphus Lestrange.

My hands grabbed the sides of the door frames to stop me from falling to the ground.

Their cells were empty.

Gasping, I sat up with a jolt. Drizella's head shot up, her head moving to detect a threat, knowing the threat was in my head. The idea is that those people could be behind a door or standing over another crib, destroying another family like mine. I pulled the covers over my head, curling up into a ball so tightly my head rested on my chin.

Since Christmas, my head has been empty and quiet it was a dream come true. There was no death swimming in my dreams, or endless corridors of nightmares of torture and the sight into the depths of human cruelty. It was...peaceful.

"Cel, we have History of Magic in twenty minutes and you're not even out of bed," Hadleigh called.

Even though she couldn't see me, I shook my head," I'm sick!"

"You don't sound sick," Padma said with a huff.

I coughed a few times.

"That is the worst fake cough I've ever heard," Padma sighed," Come on Celyn!"

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