Post by Casey Winslow on Jun 10, 2008 13:35:26 GMT -8
Saturday, August 21, 2010
10:00 p.m.
Bloodcurling screams could be heard as Kevin Bristow descended from the safety of his watchtower, his silvery wolf patronus circling around him as he made his way the short distance from the watchtower to the inside of the prison to do his bi-hourly check on the inmates. Sadly enough, the painful screams and the demanding voices giving orders or uttering curses were common place. The man felt sorry for all of them, particularly the ones he recognized from school and the elderly who were falsely accused of having been a part of the Order. Why would the Order have made use of the people who could barely walk or defend themselves physically even as relays? It seemed ridiculous to him, but he could say nothing, which frustrated him beyond belief.
"Help me! Help before he comes back!" He made a point of looking away quickly. The man had been driven mad a few months ago. No one messed with him anymore, yet he sat in there rocking, sometimes screaming and cowering in fear of an unseen source. At times he tried to throw himself at the bars to reach for their necks, and weeks ago, he had tried to kill himself, resulting in a straightjacket and at night a body binding curse. They had had Ike and a few others try to make him well again so they could gather information from him again, but it was to no avail; he was too far gone, which was why he'd be stopping here again on his way back. "Stop! Get away! You're hurting me!" Kevin winced at the screams and sobs ensued, knowing he'd have to call him a doctor before putting the body bind on him.
Making rounds was his least favorite part of the job. He would love it if he could stick to staying in the watchtower where he would not have to witness the atrocities that went on in the prison cells or hear the screams or intense interrogations. Thankfully this late at night, for the most part, all had ceased and the inmates were left to their own devices—within reason, of course. They obviously were left in their bare, bleak cells. Anything else would be suicide to the overall mission Azkaban now held. Give a little freedom and the prisoners would take it and run. Of course, they wouldn't get far, even if they somehow managed to get the door leading out of the prison building open. There were Dementors out there and in here the warden or various other scouts would surely beat them amongst other things, worse if the escapee was a woman, but that already was the case in many instances.
Kevin cleared his head of such thoughts forcefully. It made his blood boil and memories from years ago return to him, memories that were dangerous to allow to run rampant when there quite possibly was someone around who was better at legilimency than he was at occlumency. It would be not only the death of him literally but also figuratively the death of someone he loved very much and had for as far back as he cared to remember, and he couldn't fail her. He simply couldn't. He would spend eternity regretting it, if there was such a thing. Obviously there was something if people could choose to come back as ghosts, but he preferred to believe that if one didn't choose to return as a ghost, he simply ceased to exist. That was more comforting than a thought of eternity. No one wanted to live forever, after all, so why would anyone want to exist for eternity? Something to ask Nearly Headless Nick, the Red Baron, or one of the other ghosts should he ever find himself in Hogwarts again, he supposed.
He sighed, shaking his head and pausing beside a random cell to run his hand over his hair and clear his head, regroup. He didn't expect the cell's inmate to speak to him, after all. They rarely spoke to the guards. Most cowered back at the sight of one and were relieved once the guard had left their sight, a thing that Kevin hated but for which he couldn't blame them even if he'd never done anything personally to harm them. He knew what they were thinking. "He's one of them; just because he hasn't hurt me before doesn't mean he never will." It was a sad mindset these people had to adopt, but it was a necessary one. It was their way of being prepared, staying watchful. One moment of trusting a guard could be one moment too many and could lead to unwanted attention. The goal of most inmates seemed to be to try to fly under the radar as much as possible, and he understood completely.
10:00 p.m.
Bloodcurling screams could be heard as Kevin Bristow descended from the safety of his watchtower, his silvery wolf patronus circling around him as he made his way the short distance from the watchtower to the inside of the prison to do his bi-hourly check on the inmates. Sadly enough, the painful screams and the demanding voices giving orders or uttering curses were common place. The man felt sorry for all of them, particularly the ones he recognized from school and the elderly who were falsely accused of having been a part of the Order. Why would the Order have made use of the people who could barely walk or defend themselves physically even as relays? It seemed ridiculous to him, but he could say nothing, which frustrated him beyond belief.
"Help me! Help before he comes back!" He made a point of looking away quickly. The man had been driven mad a few months ago. No one messed with him anymore, yet he sat in there rocking, sometimes screaming and cowering in fear of an unseen source. At times he tried to throw himself at the bars to reach for their necks, and weeks ago, he had tried to kill himself, resulting in a straightjacket and at night a body binding curse. They had had Ike and a few others try to make him well again so they could gather information from him again, but it was to no avail; he was too far gone, which was why he'd be stopping here again on his way back. "Stop! Get away! You're hurting me!" Kevin winced at the screams and sobs ensued, knowing he'd have to call him a doctor before putting the body bind on him.
Making rounds was his least favorite part of the job. He would love it if he could stick to staying in the watchtower where he would not have to witness the atrocities that went on in the prison cells or hear the screams or intense interrogations. Thankfully this late at night, for the most part, all had ceased and the inmates were left to their own devices—within reason, of course. They obviously were left in their bare, bleak cells. Anything else would be suicide to the overall mission Azkaban now held. Give a little freedom and the prisoners would take it and run. Of course, they wouldn't get far, even if they somehow managed to get the door leading out of the prison building open. There were Dementors out there and in here the warden or various other scouts would surely beat them amongst other things, worse if the escapee was a woman, but that already was the case in many instances.
Kevin cleared his head of such thoughts forcefully. It made his blood boil and memories from years ago return to him, memories that were dangerous to allow to run rampant when there quite possibly was someone around who was better at legilimency than he was at occlumency. It would be not only the death of him literally but also figuratively the death of someone he loved very much and had for as far back as he cared to remember, and he couldn't fail her. He simply couldn't. He would spend eternity regretting it, if there was such a thing. Obviously there was something if people could choose to come back as ghosts, but he preferred to believe that if one didn't choose to return as a ghost, he simply ceased to exist. That was more comforting than a thought of eternity. No one wanted to live forever, after all, so why would anyone want to exist for eternity? Something to ask Nearly Headless Nick, the Red Baron, or one of the other ghosts should he ever find himself in Hogwarts again, he supposed.
He sighed, shaking his head and pausing beside a random cell to run his hand over his hair and clear his head, regroup. He didn't expect the cell's inmate to speak to him, after all. They rarely spoke to the guards. Most cowered back at the sight of one and were relieved once the guard had left their sight, a thing that Kevin hated but for which he couldn't blame them even if he'd never done anything personally to harm them. He knew what they were thinking. "He's one of them; just because he hasn't hurt me before doesn't mean he never will." It was a sad mindset these people had to adopt, but it was a necessary one. It was their way of being prepared, staying watchful. One moment of trusting a guard could be one moment too many and could lead to unwanted attention. The goal of most inmates seemed to be to try to fly under the radar as much as possible, and he understood completely.