They will not break me. They may break my wand, but I will hold strong and true. I will never bend for them.
I stare at the Auror in front of me. Even though I have no wand and my hands are bound, he looks scared. I can see the fear in his eyes. He’s young, fresh out of Hogwarts. Probably a trainee. I smile. He won’t last long. I hear the wheezing of the man behind me. I cannot see him now, but I know he’s on his way to the grave. A child and an old man, this is what they think I’m worth. If only I had a wand, well, then they’d be no match for me.
The small boat rocks back and forth, rises and falls with each passing wave. Three other boats move along beside mine -- three other warriors in chains. Three other true followers of the Dark Lord. We risked all, and now we will wait. He will know who his true Death Eaters are.
The boats do not need to be steered. They cannot be made to go off course, only able to make a straight path to Azkaban.
They mean to lock me up. I regret nothing. I would gladly torture and kill everyone again and more if it will help our war. Everything I did, I did for the Dark Lord. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do to help him rise again, for he’s not gone as everyone says he is. He is more than just a man, so he can never die. Those foolish men.
And how could they believe the Dark Lord is gone. Those men who pledged their loyalty and wore his Mark are no longer the men I believed they were. Cowards. They do not seek him out, but instead they deny and lie pretending that they were never with the Dark Lord. They were never really Death Eaters. They never really believed in him – if they did, they would be out there risking all to find him. Instead they cower in their manners and grovel before the Wizengamot, pleading for Dumbledore’s mercy. They will be punished.
I will sit and wait, hating those who abandoned the Dark Lord. The Dementors cannot touch my rage. I will keep it close to me, wrap it around myself. With this contempt I will never forget my loyalty to the Dark Lord.
Through the fog, Azkaban looms menacingly. As the fortress grows clearer, my resolution gains strength. I do not dread or fear the wizard prison. The boats scrape up on the small sandy shore.
I do not let the Aurors help me out of the boat. I will never let them touch me – those worthless mudbloods, half-breeds and blood traitors do not deserve it.
They lead me to the Dementors. I feel them, but I do not fear them.
The chilling cold will not pierce me. I will not let terror and despair overcome me. I have too much rage to ever let go – it will strengthen me. I will survive, and I will be stronger for the Dark Lord. The Ministry misunderstands the true Death Eaters – we all will sit and wait, our determination to fight only growing.
As we enter the dark and cold prison, I hold my head high. I will wait for him. My Dark Lord will know what I have done. He will not abandon me.