Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.
And the Faithful will wait
By Silver Sailor Ganymede
I sit here, in my cell, in the cold, in the dark. It is always dark in here, but I cannot tell whether it is dark or light outside. When I was free, I could always tell the difference between light and dark. I chose Dark. I chose the Dark Lord. I chose purity. I chose imprisonment over freedom, because I am faithful.
I can still hear them screaming, the pitiful Auror and his Wife. I can still see them writhing in pain under my curse. Oh the beauty of seeing bloodtraitors loose their minds, it is something that can only be compared to the death of a mudblood, or an muggle loosing its soul to the Dementor's Kiss. Such things were common then, back when the Dark Lord ruled. And they will be common again, when he rules once more…
Dementors drift past me. They make me relive memories that many would be driven insane by. But I am still perfectly sane. The memories they show me are not heinous, though there are many who would claim they are. I thrive on those mudblood's pain. I thrive on their pain and on their deaths. These memories remind me of my Lord, and give me faith that he will rise again.
Yes, he will rise again. They think that I am mad because I believe this. They think I am insane because I am faithful. But I am perfectly sane, sane enough to choose the right side.
And I sit here, in the cold, damp darkness of Azkaban, but my faith in my master never wavers. He will rise again one day, and we, the faithful, will wait here until that day. We will wait until the end of time if we must, but we will wait until he returns, for when he returns we will be lead to glory!
Yes, he will arise someday, and until that day the faithful will wait.