The Prologue

A rat scuttled over the grimy floor, straight towards the plate of rotten food in the corner and settled down to eat. It eagerly devoured the meal until a dirty hand scooped it up, gripping it firmly and it squealed. The rat struggled in the man's hands, wildly clawing and biting, but the man didn't even flinch. The man's clothes were that of an inmates and his blonde hair was covered in filth, not one inch of his skin was clean and, yet, he wore a grin wide enough to split his face in two.

He spoke, a rasping baritone, "There were no words, and no movements but the tearing of teeth and claws." (1)

The man's grin widens and, underneath his straggly blonde hair, his bright blue eyes shine with madness. He slowly reaches, with his other hand, to grab the rat's head and, ignoring the rat's teeth that had pierced his flesh, gave it's neck one sharp twist.

"Life and death appeared to me ideal bounds, which I should first break through, and pour a torrent of light into our dark world." (2)

His broken laughter echoed through Azkaban's halls, causing even the most seasoned criminal there to flinch and the guard nearby clenched his fists. Rosier had recently been, much to the ministry's surprise, found alive and sentenced to Azkaban for the part he had played in the war. A part so disgusting and gruesome, it was never fully mentioned. Since he had arrived, the guard's of Azkaban had often found themselves shirking in fear when they met the man's eyes or saw the way the other captured Death Eater's seemed just as fearful of him.

The nearest guard made his way over to the man's cell, repeatedly reminding himself that Rosier was not the one in control. Rosier was the prisoner and he was the guard. He was the one in control. His back straightened and the guard walked proudly towards the menacing laughter.

The guard reached Rosier's cell and glared at the prisoner.

"Rosier, behave yourself!" he growled and Rosier's head snapped up.

The guard almost fled as those eerie eyes stared directly at him and he watched in horror as Rosier raised the bloody rat to his mouth. Rosier grinned at him before viciously tearing the rat's guts out with his teeth, all the while his eyes glued on the guard's face. Blood dripped from Rosier's chin and the guard shuddered in disgust, if there was anyone who deserved to forever be in this hellhole, it was Evan Rosier.

Rosier's rasp broke his concentration and, as usual, all he spoke were meaningless words.

"There is no question of defence. I have always acted in accordance with the dictates of my conscience. I have nothing with which to reproach myself." (3)

The guard tightened his grip on his wand and turned on his heel, Rosier's mocking laughter following him. Evan Rosier had always been rumored to be insane but now the guard knew...

He was completely, utterly, disturbingly insane.

(2)Mary Shelley, Frankenstein.

(3)Agatha Christie, And Then There Were None

AN: Yes, there is a method to Rosier's madness. He's not that bad a fellow.