❝ We survive on recollection alone. ❞ —Michael Lee, The Only Worlds We Know

I lost complete track of time after the Execution Day. Whether it had been days, weeks or months since I woke up to find the cell opposite mine empty, I couldn't say.

My wrist had finally healed, after being in a cast for a while. Maureen was the one to notice it was sprained, and when I told her how it happened, she'd insisted to take over the night shifts more often. But the healing spell she knew wasn't that strong, so she'd asked Longstreth for a cast and he had helped her to it.

I thanked Maureen, though I didn't see why she treated me so kindly. My day would come too, and now that I'd lost all sense of time, I didn't know how far or near that day was. Would she show me kindness still, when the Ministry officials came for me? Or was this just a distraction from my inevitable fate, like pampering a dog before putting him down?

One morning, I woke up and decided to go to breakfast. I didn't know what prompted me to. All I knew was that if I didn't get out of my cell, I'd lose my mind.

"Polly, don't," Stella warned. "Remember what we agreed to? What if you—what if—"

"Stella," I interrupted. "I'll be okay. Really."

Maureen shackled my wrists as I left the cell. An absurd thought crossed my mind; I'd missed this feeling. My hands were bound but I could now enjoy more freedom than I'd had in god knows how long. The walls of my cell had been suffocating me. I needed air.

"You'll be okay," Maureen whispered.

"You've said that before," I said. I knew those were more than just empty words of comfort.

Maureen opened her mouth to respond, then seemed to change her mind halfway and closed it again.

"Maureen, answer me. What does that mean?"

But we had reached the cafeteria. She let me go. I clenched my teeth, frustrated, then walked towards the tray counter and grabbed one in indignation. Whatever she meant that she refused to tell me, I took it as my cue to let the tension drop from my shoulders.

I realized I couldn't care less about the Dragon Pox going around. The thought hit me as the food serving lady was filling my tray with mashed potatoes. I froze. Maybe I don't care if I catch it. Maybe I don't care if I d—

"Watch out, bitch!" the serving lady yelled. My hands had shaken and I'd splattered her with mashed potatoes all over the face. "Merlin, I hate this bloody place."

She slapped a dry steak on my tray, as if purposely wanting to splatter me for payback, then cried, "Next!"

"Imagine just how much we hate it," I muttered under my breath. The boy in front of me in line heard me; he turned around and snickered.

I grabbed a glass of water and headed towards an empty table. The cafeteria felt oddly empty, even though it was as packed as I last remembered it. Boarded up windows, low greasy ceiling, oval tables crammed with teenagers dressed in gray uniforms. I cut my eyes away before someone could catch me staring and took a seat.

The food in front of me didn't feel real. After all this time of only eating twice a day, it was like my stomach had constricted. I realized I wasn't hungry, but made myself eat anyway.

"Yo, sweetheart. Don't mind if I join you, do ya?"

The guy who was in front of me in line plopped down on the seat opposite me. I shrunk in my skin. He was much larger than me, with muscular arms, a shaved head and a diagonal cut across his right eyebrow. Instinctively, I reached for my tray.

"No, no, no, I won't bite." He flashed a grin, which did nothing to make me feel less uncomfortable. His accent was a thick French one; Beauxbatons, I assumed. "I mean, hell." He gestured with his head at his shackled wrists. "Not much I can do with these on, now can I?"

I looked down at my food, deciding to ignore him. The steak was difficult to cut through, so I stabbed it in the middle with a fork and took a rough bite. The guy was watching me.

"You shoulda thrown it at her face," he said. "Fucking crackpots think they can treat us like animals cos we're supposedly threats to society. Know what I think? We show 'em threats to society. Let's act how they expect us to."

"You think that will help?" I asked with a bravery I didn't know where I was getting from. "If we live up to their stereotypes of us, we'll just prove them right."

"Why give a damn about morals anymore—" he leaned over the table, eyes sparkling maniacally as he inched closer, "—when they stripped us of them the moment we were born? How can you label someone a criminal, treat 'em like one, then expect them not to act the part?"

I swallowed. The boy smirked with teeth showing, then slowly withdrew into his seat and let out a guttural laugh. I gulped my breakfast as quick as I could manage. Just when I thought he had completely forgotten that I was there, his voice entered my head, unwelcomed.

"Go for the jaw."

I frowned. Before I could ask what he meant, Longstreth's voice boomed across the cafeteria, announcing the end of breakfast. The boy turned around. Two other Beauxbatons kids looked back at him and nodded simultaneously, as if to signal something. I picked up my tray and stood up.

And then all hell broke loose.

I couldn't tell what happened first. One kid sitting at a table near the entrance jumped over his chair and kicked an Auror. The Auror screamed; the guy cheered. Just like that, chaos broke out. Kids started running about, flipping chairs over, jumping on top of tables, tossing food and dirty trays at the guards. Screams and shouts filled the air, incomprehensible; wands were drawn, spells and jinxes started flying around the lunchroom and bouncing off tables.

The Beauxbatons boy jumped on one guard's back and threw his arms around his neck. The shackles that bound them pressed against the Auror's skin. The boy crossed one muscular arm over the other and pulled with seemingly all his might in both directions. The guard's eyes widened, his face reddened and then paled. His arms writhed helplessly.

All I could do was stare dumbly. The boy met my eye. His eyebrows rose. "Now," he said.

I whirled. My breath hitched. Two girls had grabbed Maureen by both arms, one of them holding what I presumed to be her wand, except it was broken in two, while the other delivered a hard kick to her stomach. Maureen's eyes were half-closed. She looked unconscious. I thought of the boy's words. Go for the jaw.

Something rose in me then, something I could neither explain nor name. An immeasurable fury, but not the kind I'd seen in the boy's eyes, or in the two girls beating Maureen up in front of my eyes. Without thinking, I lurched forward. I grabbed Maureen's broken wand from the girl's hand, then poked her in the eye. The girl cried and collapsed to the floor.

"What the fuck are you doing?" the other girl shouted.

That was all it took for Maureen to regain her balance. I pushed the girl off her. Vaguely, I noticed more guards barging in. The cafeteria now resembled a zoo where all cages had been left open and the animals had escaped. I helped Maureen to her feet as two Aurors rushed over to each of the girls, wands pointed at their hands to render them immobile.

"What in Merlin's name is going on here?"

Silence fell over the cafeteria. I looked up. Longstreth stood at the entrance, hands balled into fists and seething. I'd never seen him this furious before.

"Azkaban has never seen such absolute violation of the rules," he bellowed. "I would say I'm disgusted, but that would be to imply I had any expectations of decent behavior from a bunch of hoodlums such as yourselves. Whoever started this will have a word with me, and trust me when I say that I will find out who it was. Any attempts to lie or hide this person's identity will result in all of you receiving the same punishment."

As I glanced around, I had the terrible sense that I was the only one panicking inside. Everyone wore expressions of either anger, pride or self-satisfaction. The chaos had stopped, and prisoners were being held at wandpoint, either by one or two guards. Tables were overturned. The floor and walls were stained with food. Two guards lay unconscious on the floor, several kids had tears on their shirts and the Beauxbatons boy's left eye was encircled by a giant bruise. He glanced at me, but said nothing. I wondered if he'd seen what went down.

"Aurors," Longstreth lowered his tone. "Escort the prisoners to their respective cells. Inmates, expect to be questioned one by one later on in the day. And when I find the varmint behind this, I will punish them to teach you all a lesson about what happens when you cross authority."

Without another word, he turned on his heels and strode away. I felt Maureen's grip on my arm but it was a faint one. When I turned to look, her face held that typical empty expression.

"Let's go," she said.

I walked with my head down, afraid to make eye contact with anyone. When we turned the corner towards the girls hallway, I noticed the girl I'd poked in the eye was right beside me. Her guard trudged behind her with his wand pointed at the back of her neck. Her eye was swollen, but the damage didn't seem severe.

"You're worse than them," she told me nonverbally. "You see how they treat us, but claim the moral high ground when it comes to giving them a taste of their own medicine. That doesn't make you better than any of us, hun. You're still a Dolphinus."

Her guard led her off to her cell, while Maureen and I kept walking. I turned my head. The girl cursed her guard out as he took off her shackles. He was quick enough to push her into the cell and lock the door before she could punch him, which I knew she was thinking about.

"Polly!" Stella yelped. Her smile was one of relief. "You're okay, right? I heard Lieutenant Longstreth yelling. What happened?"

Maureen vanished the shackles from my wrists and I walked into my cell. She met my eye briefly as she locked me in. The look in her eyes was one I'd seen in Breeze's so often before. Fondness. I wanted to burst into tears.

"Polly, did you hear what I said? Are you okay?"

I blinked. Maureen turned her back to me and walked away. I laid on the bed and fixed my gaze on the ceiling. A weird feeling stirred in my stomach. Shame. I'd felt it before, many times, but not like this.

"There was a fight," I responded. "I don't . . . know how it happened. It just broke out and then Longstreth came in. It was a mess."

"Did anyone get hurt?" Stella asked.

"A couple of guards, but nothing serious." I could hear the unspoken question in her tone, so I answered it before she could even ask. "I'm fine. I don't think there was anybody with Dragon Pox in the cafeteria, and even if there was, maybe I'm immune."

"Did one of your guards tell you? Because Terence said I shouldn't leave. He thinks I might catch it."

"He's right. You're at a high risk of that."

It felt odd to agree with a guard. The same as it did to stand up for one back in the cafeteria. My brain replayed the words of the girl I'd poked in the eye, the pointed look in the Beauxbatons boy's face as he was choking that Auror. I felt like I'd betrayed them. My own people.

"I think something has changed," Stella said. "Everyone seems much . . . tenser now. They're scared, no doubt. After Zoë's execution—"

"Don't mention her."

"I'm just saying that she—"

"I said don't, Stella." My voice was harsher than I intended. I heard her sharp intake of breath. The sudden urge to punch something came over me. "Sorry," I murmured. "I see your point. Death feels more real now that someone has—" I shook my head. "People just want to survive."

"Yeah," she said thoughtfully. "I wonder how Theo is coping with all this."

"He's not."

I would know, I thought, because I wouldn't be discussing such things with the one person I had to hold out hope for, if he was available to talk.

"Has he reached out to you?"

"No."

"What about Matt? Or Joseph?"

I balled my hands into fists. That was the thing with twelve-year-olds, they just didn't get it. Their brains still couldn't grasp what it meant to carry the burden of someone else's life, to spend every day wishing for some miracle to save you from your impending doom, then have to put on a brave face for them. They thought that if they acted tough too, it would make them be taken more seriously. Seem more adult.

I wanted to tell Stella it didn't work like that. I wanted to scream the truth at her, that Theo and the rest were probably grieving, and so was I, every day, in my pillow so that I wouldn't wake her, letting morbid thoughts cross my mind only after putting in the mental energy to block them, so that I wouldn't scare or depress her.

"I think I'll have a nap," I said.

I could tell she wanted to talk more, but I didn't. So without waiting for a response, I pulled the covers over my head and closed my eyes. The tears came almost automatically, like waiting all day to flow.

I shoved the edge of the pillow between my teeth and sobbed in silence for a long time.

▼

"Get up."

Xavier's tone was harsh and urgent. I opened my eyes. The sky still carried light, but a fading one at that. The reddish-orange hue indicated the sun was setting. How long had I slept for?

"Waiting for breakfast in bed, your Majesty?" asked Xavier in mockery. "I said get up. The lieutenant wants to question you."

"Question me?"

Xavier mumbled something under his breath. "About the fight that broke out in the cafeteria."

Oh, that.

I fixed my disorderly bun that had come half loose during my sleep and approached the door. Xavier let me out of the cell, chained my wrists and guided me away. We rounded the corner down a hallway I wasn't familiar with. As we neared a single wooden door at the end, guarded by two Aurors, it hit me that I'd actually been here before. When Willard first brought me to Azkaban. That was the warden's office.

Xavier acknowledged the guards with a nod, then shoved me harshly inside. The room was as small as I remembered it, with one desk in the center where Seraphina Celander was sitting, looking bored as always, and four torches lighting up the walls. Longstreth leaned against one wall with hands crossed in front of his chest.

"Sit," he said, gesturing at the empty chair opposite Celander. I did.

"So, inmate 372," Celander started. "I'm gonna be asking you the same questions I did everyone else. I'll just warn you now, I've heard five different variations of the story, so if you give me a sixth, you'll be subject to the same punishment as everyone else who attempted to lie, is that clear?"

I nodded, but didn't lift my gaze from my knees. She sighed in exasperation.

"Alright, first question. How did the fight start?"

"I don't know," I muttered.

"Pardon, what was that?"

"I don't know," I said, louder.

I closed my eyes and tried to concentrate on my breathing patterns. Focus. The image of the Beauxbatons boy flashed before my eyes. The look he exchanged with his friends right after Longstreth's end-of-breakfast announcement. Their nods. His words, Go for the jaw. The kid who kicked that Auror. I forced all the memories to slide beneath a mental trapdoor, then forced it shut. It took an overwhelming amount of brain energy. My heart was racing. My fingers shook in my lap.

When I knew my mind had blanked, I looked up to meet Celander's eye. She tipped her head back, looking askance at my face.

"You're lying."

"Am I?"

"Why are you hiding your thoughts?"

I shrugged. "Why are you trying to get in my head?"

"Kin!" Longstreth growled.

"Oh, you still remember my name," I said drily.

There was movement. Without any warning, my hands rose from my lap as if by some magnetic force. The shackles attached themselves to the desk. Longstreth walked around the desk so that he was standing behind Celander and lowered his head to meet my eye level.

"This is the last warning," he threatened. "If you don't tell the truth, I will send you to the Torture Chamber myself."

Torture Chamber? Longstreth must've seen the wince I gave before I could bother to hide it. He smirked.

"Oh, yes. I bet you'd change your mind about lying then, wouldn't you?"

"You have no proof," I whispered. I was ashamed of the tremble in my voice, but I forced myself to meet his eye. "You have no proof I'm lying. I'm allowed to keep my thoughts hidden. I have a right to privacy."

"I have a right to privacy," came Xavier's mocking voice from the door. I'd forgotten he was there.

"Silence, Xavier," Longstreth hissed.

"Sorry, sir."

The lieutenant turned to me again. He was silent for a moment, then straightened up. His hooded eyes didn't leave my face.

"Continue with the questioning, Seraphina. She'll just expose herself eventually."

"Alright, question two," Celander continued, as if she was never interrupted in the first place. "What's the first thing you saw?"

I hesitated. "People started tossing food in the air. I thought it was a food fight at first. Then the guards came and everyone started attacking."

"But what happened first?" Celander pressed.

"I don't know. Everything just happened so fast, I can't say—"

"You're lying."

It was hard to stay focused on keeping my thoughts blocked. Celander's piercing gaze was trying hard to pry my brain open and look into them. I glanced at the window. I just wanted this to be over with.

"Last question," Celander continued. "And you better think wisely about how you're going to answer this one. Who told you about the fight?"

"Nobody told me anything."

Celander closed her eyes. "Young lady, we know it was no coincidence that all of you knew of the fight that was orchestrated today. As a matter of fact, we managed to get out of one of your fellow inmates that a certain group came up with the plan and then spread the word to get everybody on board. So now I'm asking you. Who told you?"

I thought of the Beauxbatons boy again. His bruised eye, his steady and maniacal gaze, his brawny arms pressing the chains against that Auror's neck. Go for the jaw. He hadn't seen me poke that girl in the eye or help Maureen to her feet. If he had, I didn't doubt he'd want to crush my skull with his bare hands. But then I thought of something else he said, right before the chaos broke out.

How can you label someone a criminal, treat 'em like one, then expect 'em not to act the part? A memory resurfaced, of me saying a variation of those same words to Jeff Willard when he came for the Hogwarts examination. You can't arrest people for crimes they haven't and may never commit. That's injustice. And injustice can create murderers out of innocents.

"I don't know," I finally said.

The metal of the chains tightened against my wrists.

"This is a final warning, 372."

"I said what I said," I repeated. "I don't know. I left my cell for breakfast after like, a month. Nobody told me anything."

Celander straightened in her seat, her eyes scrutinizing my face. I could feel Longstreth's gaze over her shoulder but didn't look up.

"Very well then," said Celander. She turned to Longstreth. "She's lying through her teeth."

"Is that so?" Longstreth's voice was slow, laced with mock fascination. "Well, we warned you, Kin. I didn't think you'd defend your little criminal friends to this degree, but I can't say I'm surprised." He looked past me at Xavier. "Take her to the Chamber. Don't be lenient with the punishment."

"Oh, I most certainly won't, sir."

The amusement in Xavier's voice sent chills rising along my spine. Longstreth flicked his wand. The chains on my wrists unstuck themselves from the desk; my chair slid backwards. Before I could turn, a rough hand dug into my shoulder. Xavier pulled me to my feet.

"I've been waiting for this day," he whispered in my ear. But as he opened the door to push me out, Maureen stood on the other side.

"I'll handle her, Xavier."

"Nonsense," he grumbled. "The lieutenant said—"

Maureen turned to Longstreth. "Sir, the inmate participated in the fight and snapped my wand in half. May I have the pleasure of being the one to give her what she deserves? I need to let off some steam."

"Why, of course, Maureen," Longstreth said. "She needs to be taught a proper lesson. We'll get you a new wand by tomorrow morning. You can borrow Xavier's in the meantime. You don't mind, do you, Xavier?"

Judging by the deep red that rushed to his face, it looked like Xavier minded alright. He shook his head and handed his wand to Maureen, not uttering a word. Her face was unreadable.

"Thank you, sir," she told Longstreth. "Later."

She jabbed the tip of the wand at my back and nudged me out . We walked down the hallway in a silence I was too scared to break. It was hard to remember just how big Azkaban was, when my hallway, the showers and the cafeteria were all I'd ever seen. As we left one hallway for another, some darker than others, turned corner after corner like we were inside a maze, nausea started stirring in my stomach.

"Here we are," Maureen said.

We stood in front of an iron door. It had a tiny window fastened by two bars. She directed the wand at it, whispering Alohomora. I stepped inside. The chamber was bigger than my cell. It was entirely made of stone and held a medieval look, like nobody had stepped foot in it in ages. One block missed from one wall, creating a window that only sufficed to let outside air in. There were two large, rusty metal links on one wall, and a broken bench on the other. But the smell was the worst part. The chamber reeked of dry blood and rotting cabbage.

Bile rose to my throat. I forced myself to swallow it back down.

"I have to keep you here until lights out," Maureen said. "That's four hours from now."

"Do I . . . Are you going to chain me up?"

"No."

I looked at her, unable to say anything. A part of me didn't want to spend another second in this chamber that stank of death, surrounded by dirty brick walls that were stained with the blood of god knows how many prisoners—people not much older or younger than me, innocents—who had been tortured mercilessly. But the other part could only feel grateful, that I'd been spared the same fate, that the most I had to endure were four hours of just sitting here.

"Thank you, 372," Maureen said. "For earlier today in the cafeteria."

I tried to reply, to return the gratitude as I should, but no words came out. She closed the iron door slowly. I sank to my knees, praying that those four hours wouldn't drag. But I knew that the stench of rotting cabbage and the uncleaned blood stains on the walls had planted firm roots in my mind, adding to the list of memories I could only wish to forget.