❝ We've got to live, no matter how many skies have fallen. ❞ — D.H. Lawrence

If someone told me last year that in twelve months' time I'd find myself being transported to a magic prison on a flying carriage after receiving the death penalty for revolting against the Ministry of the wizarding community, I'd find it as plausible as the idea of my dad being alive.

Yet both came true, something I wouldn't have thought possible even in my wildest dreams.

I looked over my shoulder at Stella. She had stopped crying, her bloodshot grey eyes now fixed on the ocean outside the window of the flying carriage. The tear streaks on her cheeks glistened under the pale moonlight that shone on her face, which was framed by silky chestnut brown hair.

Though she had four more years ahead of her until her date of execution, it was her I worried about more than myself. She was only a third year, she didn't deserve to be in Azkaban. Why had they scheduled the Hogwarts examination when they did? Who even determined when an examination should be conducted and why? Based on what criteria?

Willard had said that the birth of one Dolphinus had a domino effect, that once one of us was born, others were too. Did that mean I was the oldest of all the Dolphinuses that were currently in Azkaban, out of all the wizarding schools in the world? Were they waiting for my arrival before they could fetch both me and Stella at the same time?

I pushed the questions aside with a shake of my head and looked out of the window into the ocean down below. When I was six, mom and I went to Maui for a summer vacation, where I first learned how to swim. Ever since, I developed a love for the ocean so I started to appreciate living in California, solely because of the Pacific weather and beautiful nearby beaches. The one mom and I visited most often was Butterfly Beach in Santa Barbara.

But the ocean below me was nothing like the Pacific. It was violent and turbulent, the waters rising like hilltops and morphing into one-another in aggressive waves that looked capable of swallowing at least twenty container ships. Whichever way I turned my head, there seemed to be no end to it. The terrifying idea of falling out of the carriage into the stormy waters flitted across my mind. I shuddered and cut my eyes away from the window. 

"Look at that!" Willard announced sprightly and rubbed his hands together. "We're almost there."

I would've punched him from the backseat if it weren't for the ropes that bound my hands. My wounds from the chains of the chair I was sitting on during the hearing were still fresh and stung badly under the ropes. I ignored the pain and peered out of the window. Not being able to see the Thestrals that led the carriage allowed me to notice what Willard had. A gigantic vertical building in the shape of a triangular prism had come in sight. I swallowed as a chill coursed its way up my spine.

Azkaban.

It was almost impossible to see where the prison was standing on, as the tumultuous waves slammed against its surface and thick ominous clouds obscured the bottom part. The closer we flew, the more I was able to see of the island. It had a rocky surface and there was a graveyard just left of the Azkaban building.

We approached the entrance and Willard pulled on the reins to cue the Thestrals to swoop down. I felt Stella tense up as the carriage hit the ground. She drew in a sharp breath and turned to me in apprehension.

"It's okay," I whispered, knowing I was lying as soon as the words left my mouth.

Willard stood up and jumped out of the carriage. He turned to us with a broad grin. "Welcome to your new home, girls."

He opened the door of the carriage and pulled me out first by the arm, since I was closest to the door. The sound of crashing waves and howling air hit my ears when I stepped out. It was freezing. As I looked around, I felt like I was in standing in the ruins of an abandoned building.

"You're sick!" Stella shouted at Willard when she got off the carriage.

"Now, now, kid," Willard sneered, adjusting the collar of his black cloak. "You haven't even stepped a foot in yet. Who knows? You might wind up liking this place. Something tells me your home sweet home isn't any better."

The blood froze on Stella's face. "H-How do-how do you know-"

"Oh, I do?" Willard asked with a look of fake surprise. "That was just a guess on my part. Don't worry, kid. We do our best to keep you fed and safe in here."

He took out his wand and conjured some ropes into existence, which he pointed toward the invisible Thestrals to tie them before we entered.

"Can you see them?" Stella asked.

I shook my head. "Can you?"

"Me neither. But I know what they look like. Hagrid showed us some pictures in the last Care of Magical Creatures class." She looked down and sighed. "I'll miss him, you know."

"Hey, we're not staying here forever," I said gently.

"That is correct," Willard's voice came behind us, cruel in its cheeriness that made my insides stir. "Because you will both be receiving the death penalty one day."

As he stepped in front of me to guide the way, I thought of kicking him behind the knee. He led us inside the dark building and up a flight of stairs. The sound of crashing waves grew more distant, and the hammering of our feet against the iron stairs louder.

"Lumos," Willard whispered. A bright ball of light shone the tip of his wand. Well, took him long enough.

We reached the end of the staircase, which led onto a small corridor with one apparent room in sight. Two officers were guarding it, a man and a woman. They both gave Willard a nod of acknowledgment.

"Greetings Maureen, Xavier." Willard's voice sounded loud in the eerie silence of the corridor. "Is the lieutenant inside?"

"He should be out any minute, sir," the male officer, Xavier, responded in a squeaky voice.

As if on cue, the door of the room sprang open and a tall white man with greying hair and hooded eyes walked out, clad in a blue uniform. He froze when he saw Willard, but his muscles quickly loosened and he opened his arms.

"Jeff, my friend," he bellowed.

"Good to see you again, Adriel," Willard said.

He lifted his hand, which looked small and bony against the other man's large one that when the man gripped it, I thought he nearly dislocated Willard's shoulder. If only. I glanced at the name tag attached to his robes. Adriel Longstreth, Azkaban Prison Lieutenant. The man cast me and Stella a sideways glance.

"Is that it?" he asked Willard.

"Thank Merlin it is," said Willard. He turned around and shoved me forward. I felt the ropes loosen on my hands and when I looked back, they were gone. "Tell you what. This here, is the child of someone we presumed dead, who tried to continue her father's unfinished business."

Adriel Longstreth lowered his head and squinted his hooded eyes at me. "Is that so?"

I pursed my lips and glared back at him. Unlike Willard, there didn't seem to be a tone of malice to his voice. Instead, his face displayed an expression of cold indifference, which, despite its lack of cruelty, wasn't any more pleasant.

"Interesting," he drawled. He opened the door behind him and gestured inside. The two guards entered. "Let's start with you first then, girl. Off you go."

I hesitated and looked at Stella beside me. She seemed as lost as I felt, her eyebrows arched in an almost pleading way.

"Don't worry, your friend will be next," Adriel Longstreth said. "It's just a screening test. We won't inflict any pain on you."

Willard snorted and turned to me. "Really, Kin? Is that what you're so worried of? I didn't lie when I said we'll keep you safe in here, you know. Believe it or not, but we're against violence. So long as you follow the rules and behave as a proper inmate should, we won't have any trouble."

His green hawk eyes pierced into mine, as if he wanted to assure me of his honesty. I scowled and turned my back to him. Adriel Longstreth was still holding the door open expectantly, so I flashed Stella a small smile before following him inside the room. He slammed the door shut after I entered.

The room was small and dark. The male and female guards were standing on my right, their eyes trained on me as I walked in. On the center of the room, a woman was sitting on a desk, writing something down on a piece of parchment.

She didn't even bother acknowledging my presence. According to the name tag on her desk, the woman was called Seraphina Celander and she was the prison governess. There was a photographer standing next to her, holding a giant camera in one hand and a metal plate with a chain on the other.

Before I could turn to Adriel Longstreth with a questioning look, a waft of cold air enveloped my body. The female guard Willard earlier called Maureen stepped in front of me, guiding the tip of her wand over my arms and torso. I realized she was scanning me. She had thin eyebrows, pixie short hair, and was only taller than me by an inch or two. I looked down when I felt an emptiness in my pocket to see my wand levitating from my pocket toward her.

Maureen picked it up and then directed her own wand toward my neck. Rochelle's locket floated outside my shirt in front of her eyes. I could feel the thumping of my heart on my throat as I looked at the woman as she scanned my locket, like it was a stolen item full of dark powers.

When apparently she made sure no such dark powers could be found, she lowered her wand. The heart-shaped locket fell back against my chest with a soft thud. Maureen stepped back and turned to the woman sitting at the desk.

"All clean," she said.

Seraphina Celander finished the sentence she was writing before putting her quill down and glancing up at the female guard. She looked like she'd give anything not to be there.

"Can I see her wand?" she asked in a thick British accent.

Maureen nodded, walked up to her desk and placed my wand on top of it. Celander rose it to her eye level and examined it for a moment. Then she turned to me, her dark eyes unblinking as she snapped it in two. My eyes widened.

"Anything to say?" she asked, raising a badly drawn brow.

When I recovered from the temporary shock, I clenched my fists to my sides, blood boiling. "Yeah, what the hell?"

She scoffed and shook her head, like you do at a kid when they say something silly because they don't know better.

"Well, this is it, baby," she said. "This is 'the hell.' What did you expect to do here, practice dueling?"

I glowered at her, my chest rising and falling. The photographer who was standing by her right walked up to me. Without a word, he handed me the metallic plate he was holding. I frowned and turned it over to read an alphanumeric engraving: XX372.

"Name?" Celander asked.

When I turned to her, she had picked up her quill and shifted her focus to the parchment again.

"Polly," I said. I fixed my gaze on her face as I prepared to deliver the full version, already knowing what her reaction would be. "Polly Annabelle Kin."

As expected, the woman's eyes bulged and she dropped her quill. Hesitantly, she lifted her gaze. I couldn't fight the smirk that rose to my lips. She was scared of me. I hadn't even done anything, and yet she was being all wary around me, as if I'd unleash my supposedly supernatural powers and kill them all. Just because of my dad's reputation. Funny enough, it wasn't even a real one. It was one the Ministry had created to avoid facing their own irrational fears. They had ignited this tension among the wizardkind, yet they were the ones who wound up fearing their own doings.

She cleared her throat and dropped her gaze. "You-You'll go by 372 from now on."

"Not dehumanizing at all," I said in a sarcastic tone.

Celander ignored me and continued, "Please stand in front of that grey wall and wear the plate around your neck." Her voice was so low it was almost a whisper.

"How about I don't?" I said promptly.

She shifted awkwardly in her seat, not looking up from the parchment in front of her. I could tell I was making her uncomfortable.

"Don't be difficult, girl. Please stand in front of the grey wall so we can take your mugshot."

"Mugshot," I repeated. I put my hand on my chin like I was thinking hard. "I'm officially a criminal then, huh? Yet the man in charge of literally carrying out a genocide runs the Department of Law Enforcement."

The woman looked desperate for a moment. I almost would've pitied her, but as I reminded myself this was the face of another Ministry official who wanted me locked up, I felt no remorse.

Celander straightened her back and turned to the Lieutenant for help. "Longstreth."

Adriel Longstreth gave a curt nod and approached me, his slow footsteps resounding through the small room. He brought out his wand. I didn't flinch, but the heaviness in my chest made me want to jump out of my skin.

"You'll come to learn eventually, 372," Longstreth started, his voice dangerously low. "That attitude is not cutting it here."

"Are you going to punish me?" I asked, trying not to let the fear show in my voice.

Longstreth shook his head slowly and pointed his wand at me. Before I could even lift an arm, my muscles relaxed and my breathing slowed down. The distance between him and I started growing, as though a strange magnetic force was pulling me further and further away from the room and the people in it.

Though I could still vaguely hear voices around me, none of them were comprehensible. As my surroundings began to blur, my sense of time warped and a wave of euphoric tranquility enveloped me.

▼

I felt the impact when it came. The pain shot up my spine and spread through my entire body when my back made contact with the wall. My vision was foggy as my whole body collapsed to the cold ground like a sack of potatoes.

Sluggishly, I lifted myself up onto my elbows, and with some effort, managed to get to my feet. My brain was whirling and I felt the urge to puke. I ignored both and brought my hands to my face to rub my eyes. After a few seconds of blinking, my vision cleared.

I took in the sight of the room, which was dark, save for the poor illumination coming from the glow of the moonlight. I turned my head toward the source of light, coming face to face with a minute window fastened with bars.

Where am I?

A quick scan of the room convinced me that I was in a bedroom. But this was not the Gryffindor girls dorm. This room was low-ceilinged and the grey flaking paint on the walls was already half peeled off. The floor wasn't carpeted and my steps sounded loud in the silence of the room as I walked to the bed, my brain taking in my surroundings.

The bed was low and fixed to the wall, resembling more a ledge bedstead that held a gymnasium floor mat than an actual bed. I sat down and wrinkled my nose at how flimsy the mattress felt. There didn't appear to be many furnishings in the room.

I screwed up my eyes due to the lack of lighting so I could see better. There was a low desk with an attached stool a few feet away from me. A steel lavatory beside the desk, with a skewed mirror that hung above it. The door was barred just like the window, and it seemed like it locked from the outside.

Realization finally sank in, making the breath freeze in my lungs. This was a cell room.

Why was I here? Why was I in prison? Where were the others?

Calm down, Polly. Breathe in, breathe out. In, out.

I wrapped my arms around myself, gasping for air. A sense of claustrophobia overcame me and I began to shake uncontrollably. I wanted to get out.

I closed my eyes and tried not to think of the worst possibility-that someone might have kidnapped me and locked me up in this cell after erasing my memory.

No, my memory was perfectly fine.

My name was Polly Kin. My birthday was July 5th. I was fifteen years old. I attended Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I was a Gryffindor and Chaser for my house's Quidditch team. I had a sister named Rochelle.

I inhaled deeply, blowing out a long breath. My memory was fine. I remembered the basics about myself. Okay, let's try something more advanced.

My dad was a Dolphinus. His name was Robert Kin. The Ministry executed people like him but they were never able to catch him. They caught me. They sent out three officials to take us away. Me and Stella Cole, the other Dolphinus. They roped our hands and drugged us.

That's all I remembered. What happened then? In the in-between time? How had I ended up here? Where was Stella? Where was literally anyone else? Why was I all alone in this dark prison cell?

I reached into my pocket for my wand but didn't find it. My heart dropped.

Okay, Polly, calm down. Don't panic. Don't you dare panic.

I approached the barred door and peered outside, my eyes frantically searching for the slightest line of light. The hallway in front of my eyes seemed as if it continued on and on but there was a faint light at the end of it.

Eager to leave this place and euphoric that there were people on the other side, I gripped the bars tightly, my knuckles turning white. Light equated to human presence. Human presence meant I wasn't alone.

"Help!" I yelled.

My voice reverberated through the hallway until it faltered completely, only to be followed by utter silence.

"Help!" I yelled again, this time louder. "Help me!"

I tightened my grip on the bars as I shook them. Silence followed my words again, and after what felt like centuries came the sound of muted footsteps.

My heart fluttered in my chest.

Someone's coming to help me. Someone's coming to release me. I'm getting out.

I almost tripped over my feet and fell to the ground as I stumbled backwards, anticipating to hear the sound of the door getting unlocked.

But it never came.

A head had popped up behind the bars and was standing there, looming over me. I gulped.

"W-Who are you?" I asked, ashamed of the tremble in my voice. "How the hell did I end up here? I don't-I don't want to be here. I don't remember anything. Please get me out."

The head snorted in derision. Or rather, the person that the head belonged to. He was stocky and humpbacked with badly rotting teeth and a cane on one hand. Not a familiar face.

"But I am no genie, Polly Kin," he said in a squeaky voice. "I cannot grant your wishes."

Before I could do anything to prevent it, hot tears pooled my eyes. What did he mean he couldn't help me? He was supposed to help me. After all, this was just a nightmare, wasn't it? None of this could be true. I would be able to remember everything if it was.

I was overreacting, I knew I was. This whole behavior was so unlike me. But I wanted to get out. I needed to get out.

"How come I don't remember anything?" I asked, my breath coming out in short pants. "How did I get here? Where is Stella?"

The creepy man seemed to be enjoying watching me panic. An evil grin sprawled across his face, revealing his yellowish teeth.

"You were under the Confundus Charm," he said simply.

My eyes widened and I let out a shriek of terror. Over the sound of my scream I could hear the man's hostile bark of laughter.

"When are they going to release me?" I wheezed. Sweat dripped down my forehead. "I want to get out. I need to get out now. Please do something. Help me!"

Backing away in jerky steps, I tripped over my own feet, this time unable to prevent myself from falling. The man's face twisted in sardonic amusement.

"Polly Kin," he whispered. "You are never going to get released. Did you hear me? You should feel lucky if you rot in here before you reach the age of execution."

He threw his head back in a bray of laughter in a way that reminded me of those scenes in cartoons I watched when I was younger, where the devil chuckled cruelly with a spear in one hand.

I was sweating copiously by this point. There was a serious lack of oxygen in the room. Although I was panting, my lungs kept screaming for more air.

I am going to die.

As if hearing my thoughts, the creepy man stopped laughing and stared at me. My heart was basically rending itself in my chest now, its violent thump pounding my eardrums.

"Polly Kin, this will be your life for the next two years," he whispered, then howled with laughter once again.

I felt the warmth of tears streaming down my face. With trembling fingers, I reached for the heart-shaped pendant around my neck, relieved to find it there. As my wrist brushed the hem of my shirt, I winced in pain and withdrew my hand. I looked down at my wrists. They were bleeding red, the shape of metal links visible on my skin. How the hell did that happen?

I looked up at the creepy man, wanting nothing more than to just scream and scream and scream. He wasn't making any sense. I wasn't making any sense. What was going on with me? What had they done to me?

The man's next words rang in my ears like the chime of a school bell. Three words, spoken in a hushed tone, mockery outpouring from every syllable.

"Welcome to Azkaban."