The Shadow of Azkaban

Part 1: Escape from Azkaban

ONE

The young man awoke bolt upright in total darkness. His panicked breathing reverberated around the otherwise silent room. Desperate for sight, he whipped his head in every direction to no avail. Pitch black darkness. Where was he? What happened?

His left hand clutched a metallic object. He shoved it into the closest pocket he could find. Panicking, he felt the cold stone floor all around him, searching for anything that would provide affirmation as to where he was. Crawling on his elbows and stomach, his hands found a wall of the same stone as the floor. He pushed himself upright and laid his back against the wall. The initial rush of panic having subsided, he reached into his memory to attempt to remember where he was.

His thoughts failed him. He couldn't recall where or how he had even fallen asleep. He couldn't recollect anything about the day before, the weeks before. He whispered to himself, "what the hell...?"

Hushing himself, he pressed his fingers to his lips. Was that his voice? It seemed unfamiliar.

As his memory continued to evade him, so did trepidation befall him. He could not even conjure his own name. A rising panic began to set in. He desperately patted himself down. He wore a long cloth coat with buttons up the front. It was damp. One pocket on the left side contained the strange, unidentifiable metallic object, the other on the right was empty. His thick cotton pants held no answers either. His cold hands felt worn leather shoes on his feet. They were soaking wet. The rest of his clothes were damp too. Bending over, he felt something long poke into his chest.

He carefully patted his coat and found an inner lining with a concealed pocket. His fingers found a long wooden stick. Its smooth sides were a comforting touch to his clammy hands. This was one memory he did not forget - his wand. Awash with relief, he illuminated the room.

"Lumos." The language of magic had not escaped him.

A bluish light blossomed from the tip of his wand. Any semblance of relief vanished. Sight only confirmed what his hands felt. The stone floor extended some three meters in front of him into another stone wall across the room. Two meters to his left and right, two more stone walls boxed him into an impossible room. How could he have got in here? He pointed his wand at himself and scanned his pale clammy hands, his tattered black coat, his dirty tan pants, and his sopping wet black leather shoes. No memory.

As he ran his fingers through his damp hair, he wrung foul-smelling water from the strands. He tilted his head to the left. Remnants of steps lay in rubble at one corner of the room that he had not noticed earlier. He stood and slowly walked towards them. He pointed his wand in the direction the steps led only to be once again let down. The stairs led directly into an untouched portion of the stone wall that surrounded the room. A barely visible crack outlined what might have once been a doorway, but was now only another blockade. He let out a moan of frustration and fear.

Pacing, he desperately thought and thought, reaching into the depths of his mind for any clues about this odd and increasingly scary situation. He stopped and stared at the wand clutched in his hand. The blue beacon of light represented the only shards of memory he could muster, and an idea took shape.

He planted his feet. With a flick of his wand, he cast whatever spell his empty mind could conjure. "Apparecium!"

Nothing happened. He stared at the stone wall.

"Bombarda!" he yelled with another flick. Shards of rock burst from the section of wall at which he pointed. In reflex, he shielded his face with his forearm. He stared at the small hole bored in the side of the wall.

"Bombarda! Bombarda! Bombarda!" Chunks of rock shot from the small opening in the wall and rattled around the small room.

A spec of light penetrated the hole in the wall, casting a thin beam of light into the darkness of the room. The young man dropped to his knees and pressed an eye to the opening. It was night time. Ocean tide churned and splashed while a fierce storm raged above. Heavy rain clapped against the stone wall on the outside. With a burst of hope, he stood back up and planted his feet.