It's cold, freezing. The temperature in the courtroom is perfectly livable; it's the Dementors that freeze the heart of every single witch and wizard in here. I shudder as one of the creatures glides towards me, herding me into one of the four chairs in the center of the room. As soon as I touch the seat, the chains on the arms and legs of the chair bind me fast. I'm not going anywhere. I peer up into the benches and my eyes lock onto him. My own father is presiding over my case. My heart flutters and I am thrown into a panic as the realization hits me: I'm going to die.

"You have been brought here before the Council of Magical Law so that we may pass judgment on you, for a crime so heinous—"

I hardly hear the man. I scream to him. I declare my innocence. Azkaban is an awful place. I do not, under any circumstances, want to return there. My father continues, more loudly now, as if he does not hear me. My terror has reached new heights now. I can feel the six Dementors hovering near us, poised to attack if we should so much as flinch the wrong way.

I beg him not to send me back to the prison where I have been held. Barty Crouch, Sr. is yelling, now. I turn my attention to the woman at his side: my mother. I desperately hope that she will hear my pleas.

"Mother! Mother, stop him! I didn't do it, it wasn't me!" I scream at her. I am lying and I know it. But at this point, my commitment to the Dark Lord is the farthest thing from my animal- like mind. I am drenched in fear; a combination of the Dementors' influence and the dismal reputation of Azkaban.

Tears are spilling down my cheeks now. My father looks down at me for a moment, not in hesitation for what he is doing, but in shame. For a fraction of a second, I am proud; I have not become my father. But in this moment, I miss his sentence. I see the hands of the entire Council shoot up. I realize that the vote has taken place. I am going to Azkaban. My dignity, or what had remained of it, was flushed down the chamber pot. I scream for my mother to help me. An animal screech of primal instinct. I fear for my life. Once sentenced to Azkaban, no one returns.

I scream for her to stop Him. She has to, right? I am here son, her boy. She cannot let me be taken to That Place. The creatures of darkness glide towards us. I struggle against the chains that bind me. I won't go back. I won't! Bella barely registers in the corner of my eye. She is talking, something about the Dark Lord. I don't care anymore! I just want to live without feeling like all the happiness has been sucked out of my soul!

The chains that have been cutting into my wrists and ankles finally recede back into the chair. I jump up and begin inching away from the two Dementors converging on my. The nearest one swoops and inhales a deep, sucking breath, taking some of my hope with it. I gasp and with a cold shudder, sink to my knees. The crowd is going wild, clapping and jeering at our misery. The others have been whisked back into the depths of the holding cells. Bella had been laughing in here usual manic fashion while her husband and brother in-law had simply followed the dark things, resigned to their fates. I, however, was determined not to go to that foul prison. I made a last plea to my mother. She is rocking hysterically, unable to do anything about my father's decision. Her grief has taken its toll on her body and my poor mother falls to the ground. She has fainted and her dear husband has failed to notice.

"I'm your son! I'm your son!" You can't do this, Father. I'm your own flesh and blood! You can't send me to that place!

He glowers at me, his hatred flowing of him in waves. "You are no son of mine! I have no son!"

I scream at him; beg him to reconsider. I cannot accept that he would send me, his Barty, to Azkaban. He couldn't, could he? He is yelling for the Dementors to take me away. I struggle, but the fight has left me. The world is spinning before my eyes. The hope and happiness, every joyful memory I possess is leaving me, becoming faint and blurred. Darkness is clouding my vision, ebbing at the corners of my eyes. The sounds are becoming muted and muffled. One last thought flashes through my brain. He will come for me. Where my father is weak, He is strong. He will rescue his "Son." And with that, I black out, only to reawaken hours later, in my cell in Azkaban.