After the rest of his classes, Harrison spent hours in the Room of Requirement, using the room as a dueling room. He spent hours, sending various hexes, and dark spells he could thing of towards the wooden dummies. He spent hours inside the room, feeling the urge for blood every time he sent out a dark curse towards the dummy, imploding into tiny, little particles of wood from the impact.
It didn't.
Sweat lingered on the back of his neck, forehead and on his hair, as he panted and placed his hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath. As much as he was growing exhausted, he still couldn't forget what happened earlier.
He nearly lost control.
He almost lost control of his magic and the madness that lingered ever so closely to the surface.
All because Lord Potter baited him and several of his classmates, and he took the bait, recklessly.
He should never have let it happen.
He shouldn't have lost control like that.
Harrison knew Lord Potter had it out for him, since even before he was at Hogwarts and before he was thrown into Azkaban. He knew the man was going to show his bias, and didn't like it if a student asked questions about his teaching method.
Then why did he nearly lose control?
Harrison clenched his wand, and flicked a bombarda spell towards one of the practice dummies. Shards of wood flying around him as he stood there in the middle of the room, a smirk on his face.
He promised himself never again, the first time.
Though, he was grateful that Draco saved him from doing something incredibly reckless, and instead forced him down flights of stairs, into the dungeons, and had a calming down in his throat to help.
He wasn't going to show up to the detention, especially since being in close contact with him, probably wasn't a good idea for his sake and the professor.
Harrison sent a couple more dark curses,and watched as the dummies inflict damage from the weight of the spell, until he grew tired of it, his wand laying limply by his side, and the urge for blood remained.
He wondered how he was going to satisfy that part, until he came up with a clever idea for when he took the stone in a couple of weeks, though it would probably result in actually getting Dumbledore suspicious and watching him for the remainder of term. Although, that was a minor thing to fix when it came down to it.
…
Snow fell down from the dark gray clouds, the wind howling, pushing the snowflakes everywhere. There was a chill in the air, with small mists that formed when someone took a breath Frost and snow covered the bars, and the ground. It provided no warmth as prisoners huddled in a ball, shivering in their thin, black-and-white prison jumpsuits, waiting for either the storm to pass or the weather to warm up.
That was where Ella was curled up, her gray eyes blinking towards her mama, barely paying attention when they were discussing.
It was the only thing to pass time.
As if that helped.
Time was non-existent in Azkaban. No one knew what the day was, or the time. Occasionally, the aurors would patrol the high-security area, making sure everything was in order, with a daily prophet in their hands, with the date printed across the daily prophet.
That was probably one of the only ways one could keep time in this place. Marking on the stone wall helped very little, and you couldn't exactly mark time with food and water as the demotors delivered the moldy bread and lukewarm water sporadically, often bringing it every couple of days, and the dementors came as they please.
It was impossible.
"Do you think Harry will come back?" Ella asked, tucking her face against her knees, hoping that it could cause a little bit of warmth.
"I hope so…" Mama told her. "He's probably at Hogwarts for his second term. He's not going to forget us that easily."
"I know…" Ella said quietly, "I just wish he'd hurry up."
"He's not going to return until the Dark Lord has returned," Bellatrix told her, "Perhaps it'll be another couple of weeks, months or even years before Harry gets that far."
"I just want to get out of here," Ella commented.
Her mama offered her a pained smile, "We all do… I, for one, would love to hug my daughter. I'm pretty sure your papa and uncle would agree."
Ella only smiled in response.
At six o'clock, Harrison arrived at Professor Snape's office, only knocking a couple of times on the wooden door.
The only response he got was,
"Enter."
Harrison entered, the door shutting behind him, noticing that Professor Snape was setting at his desk, grading essays with red ink written on the papers.
"Take a seat… I don't care what you do," Snape told him, returning his attention back to the essays at hand.
Harrison took a seat in front of the table, bringing out the book he borrowed from the Malfoy Library over winter break, its contents filled with dark spells and curses that he was anxious to try out. Some of them were particular gruesome that had particularly ill-effects towards the victims like the blood-boiling curse he found. Even though the spell caster would cancel the spell, the victim could most likely potentially die because of the temperature of the blood being raised to the point it turned deadly.
He flipped through the pages of the book, reading different types of curses and spells until the hour was up.
He tucked the book back inside his bag, and shrugged it on his shoulder. He was about to turn away before Professor Snape spoke to him,
"I don't want to see you here to serve detention, again… Just do what Potter says and keep your head down like I know you have been doing."
"Of course, sir," he replied back.
He exited out of Snape's office, and instead of heading back to the common room like he wanted to. Instead, he exited out of the dungeons and headed to the Chamber of Secrets.
…
It only took two weeks when Hermione received a response back from the Ministry of Magic, most specifically from Madam Bones.
She detached the letter from the leg of the ministry's owl, flying off once the letter was in her hands. Saeviour and Ron watched, with their cheeks puffy as they were in the middle of chewing, as she opened the insignia marked with the Ministry of Magic, and grabbed the parchment from inside it.
"What's that, 'Mione?" Saeviour asked, swallowing his food down his throat. His fork was long forgotten in his hand. "What does the ministry want from you?"
Hermione took a deep breath, wondering how she could possibly phrase this to her friends. She knew they would quickly label her as dark, bully her to the point where she was no longer going to have any friends and she would be shunned more from her housemates.
....
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