There may be continuity errors and plot holes because I began to rewrite the series before I unfortunately had to abandon my account. 

***

 I blinked against a harsh light that lit up my face, and I quickly pushed away the flashlight.

 "There she is," said a gruff voice that I didn't know. I blinked the black spots away from my vision and was aware of the hard concrete I was laying on, and the pain my shoulder was giving off.

 "Where am I?" I asked in a scratchy voice and I saw a man with receding light blonde hair, and a scruffy short beard to match. His eyes were light blue and he had a strong chin, but not very strong cheekbones; they sort of...sunk in. I looked at my surroundings and saw that I was in a small room with no windows and only one door.

 "You're in Azkaban, dearie," the man sneered. I frowned and slowly sat up, suddenly realizing my hands were handcuffed together. I was still in my dress and cloak, but I couldn't remember how I got here. I don't really know what's going on.

 "Why?" I asked and the man laughed harshly.

 "You know why," he said, and then pulled up both my sleeves, writing something on a clipboard. I saw my dark mark and it hit me. Tonks had dropped me off here after all the Death Eaters were caught at the Battle of the Department of Mysteries.

 "Oh," I whispered, and he nodded.

 "Alright, any more scars? I have to catalogue these things," he said.

"I have a bunch on my wrists, on my cheek, and the back of my hand," I said in a daze.

 "I already got those, but I didn't examine you much since you were knocked out," he said with a glare.

 "Oh...then no," I shook my head. That was a lie, but oh well.

 "Any other tattoos?" he asked and I shook my head.

 "Name," he ordered.

 "Leah Mariela Riddle," I said.

 "Birthdate," he said.

 "July 15, 1996," I said. (A/N: I know Harry and the other students were born in like 1980, but I changed it, so hah)

 "Eye color...black; hair color... black," the man muttered.

 "I would say my eyes are more of a lava color," I smirked and he glared.

 "They're black," he said. Whatever. I know I can't escape, so I suppose I'll have to go along with what they want; how upsetting.

 "Alright, now you get to be searched!" the man said with false delight. He untied my cloak and I dodged away from his hands.

 "Whoa, absolutely not," I glared and he rolled his eyes.

 "I'm just patting you down; I'm a wizard cop you know," he said and I glared fiercely as he pat down my arms and then moved to my side where he found my wand.

 "Aha, this is what I wanted," he said, taking it.

 "What are you doing with it?" I asked quickly, standing up, but he pushed me down forcefully and pointed his own wand at me.

 "Stay seated!" he snapped, "I'm putting in a box until your release. If, of course, you are released," he said with a wicked smile.

 "What's your name," I narrowed my eyes.

 "If you must know, my name is Carrick Thorne," he said, grabbing his wand and the tip glowed red.

 "Thorne...do you have a son?" I asked casually.

 "Yes," he said, bringing the wand tip closer.

 "I have to tattoo your number on your side," he said.

 "What?" I yelped. He took off the handcuffs, but I knew I was still magically bound.

 "Come on, off with the corset," he said and I glared, unlacing it and then shrugging off one shoulder of the dress, exposing my ribs. I felt the top of the wand white hot in between two rib bones and hissed.

"So... this son of yours," I panted, gritting my teeth.

 "Is his name Thane?" I asked, blinking back tears of pain.

 "Yes," Carrick raised his eyebrows.

 "I know him," I said, giving a small cry of pain by accident.

 "Do you now? You know, I don't usually converse with prisoners, so you're pushing it," he said.

 "Nah, you just secretly like me because I'm charismatic," I joked in between gasps of pain.

 "There, you're done," he said, and I looked down at it. 24601 were the numbers. You've got to be kidding me.

 "What is this, Les Miserables?" I snorted.

"We thought it'd be an appropriate number. Now, as for liking you, I don't think so," he snorted.

 "Here, this is your prison outfit," he said and I looked down at it.

 "I'm not wearing that," I looked at the black and white stripped, oversized, ugly tee-shirt and black cotton shorts.

 "You have to," he said with slight impatience.

 "Please don't make me," I pleaded and he rolled his eyes.

 "Put it on, I'll be right outside this door," he said and I gave a groan of frustration. This really, really sucks. It hasn't really hit me yet... I just don't feel like I'm in prison. The door shut and I pulled off my clothes and put on the shorts, but before I put the shirt on, I saw my shoulder. It was sliced open and the skin was jagged. I gaped at it, slowly slipped on the prison uniform, and screamed when the scratchy fabric irritated it. Carrick came storming in and scowled at me.

 "What?" he asked.

 "My shoulder," I hissed and he looked at it.

 "Well, you certainly can't heal it," he chuckled, so he did instead.

 "It'll still be very sore," he warned. He put the handcuffs back on and sneered at me.

 "Now let's go," he grabbed my arm and practically dragged me through Azkaban. We passed cells with half insane prisoners yelling at us, and I felt fear creep over me.

 "Aren't the dementors supposed to be guarding this place?" I whispered.

 "No, they left," Carrick said and I had to run to keep up with him.

 "My Lady, please save me!"

 "Look, fresh meat!"

"Oh she's a beauty!"

 "Damn, that's the Dark Lord's daughter!"

People were shouting different things at us through their bars and I moved closer to Carrick since I didn't have any magical powers anymore; damn handcuffs. Carrick laughed harshly at me, but used his arm as sort of a protection from the prisoners' gazes.

 "Here we are," he smirked, throwing me into an empty cell with one small barred window. I landed on the floor with a loud thud and grabbed the bars as he locked them. The walls were jagged black stone and I heard the roar of the sea around us.

 "This is no place for a teenager, don't you think?" I tried reasoning with the chill of raw fear creeping down my spine.

 "Not if that teenager is a Riddle," he said, giving me a dark glare as he walked down the hall. I watched him leave and I realized his desk was at the end of the hall, which I could see. I saw a hard looking dirty cot and a damn toilet out in the open in my cell. Jesus Christ, this is Hell. I wasn't hungry or thirsty yet, but I knew I would be, and I felt detached from myself without my magic. I sank down to my knees and gave a dry sob, putting my hands to my face.

 "The Riddle girl is next to my cell!"

"Look at her; she's not so mighty now!"

 "Voldemort will save us all, the girl is a sign!"

 "Prison is no place for a young girl!"

 "I'm sorry Leah," said one familiar voice and my head snapped up.

 "Lucius?" I whispered, looking at the cells as best I could. Across the hall I saw Lucius move to the bars of his own cell and he looked at me.

 "It's my fault you're here," he said with a pained expression.

 "Yeah, yeah it is," I said, feeling a hurt expression make its way across my features.

 "Please, forgive me," he begged.

 "No...I hate you Lucius. You can't even begin to understand," I said, tears filling my eyes. I walked away and sat on the cold cot that was half hidden in the shadows, feeling dread make its way into my heart, and it finally hit me; I'm in Azkaban. The whole night all you could hear were my cries, and at one point, Carrick actually came to give me a glass of water. No amount of kindness could help me now; I have no heart anymore. Those who wish to betray me will die without hesitation, and when I get out, Lucius is the first to go.

**

Comment

Vote

Fan

-Shay