Chapter 2

With determination, Anna marched out of the graveyard and headed towards the entrance to Azkaban prison. She strode purposefully, holding her head high, as she'd often seen her mother do. Anna Granger was trying to project an image of confidence, the image of someone who was a force to be reckoned with.

It had been an unusual decree from the Ministry. With the building of the new prison and concerns about over-crowding, those prisoners who were deemed safe or otherwise unlikely to re-commit crimes would be released if the Warden's Board approved of the situation into which they were being released. When the list of eligible prisoners was released, Anna was astonished to see his name on it.

Of course, some of the inmates on the probationary release list would not have the opportunity to see the outside world because no one would want to petition for their custody. And even if some well-meaning families had wanted to, they would have been thwarted in their attempts to claim the probationers due to the mountain of paperwork involved, the scrutiny of the Ministry inspectors or the determination of the local population to not have those kinds of people living anywhere near them.

But Anna persisted, having several things going for her. First, she had friends at the Ministry, and they knew some of the ins and outs of Ministry paperwork. Second, the "living situation" was a large manor house far from any nosy or fearful neighbors. And, finally, she took a lesson from her mother: Anna used the power of her last name. After all that, she was finally granted custody.

She smiled to herself, thinking of how pleased her mother would have been at what was about to happen. As hard as Hermione Granger had worked on behalf of Severus Snape, she'd worked equally hard for this man, trying to clear his name and salvage his reputation.

Anna looked behind her, imagining she could still see the black van awaiting her return. She took a deep breath and opened the heavy, ancient door.

Inside, in what may have been a reception area, Anna paused, unsure what to do or where to go. Since no one was there, she politely called out, not wanting to offend anyone when she was so close to her goal. Checking her pocket watch, she was assured that she was on time for her "probationary custody acquisition." The wording sounded more like she was picking up second-hand furniture rather than a person.

Looking around the small stone room, she saw a decrepit wooden chair against one wall and what appeared to be an old desk against the other. The floor was made of cut stone, rutted and pitted in places and most often filled with dirty water. And finally, there was a locked door ahead of her on the back wall.

Anna was just about to call out when she heard footsteps. A small creature unlocked the door and stepped into the room. Whatever it was, it clearly wasn't an elf, and to call it a goblin would have put all goblins to shame. It rather looked like a stone gargoyle come alive.

In a harsh voice, it asked, "What do you want?"

"I've come to pick up a prisoner for whom I've been granted custody," Anna said as evenly and as clearly as she could. In truth, that feeling of confidence she'd entered with was rapidly draining away.

"Parchments," the gargoyle demanded as it stuck out its gnarled hand.

Fumbling only slightly, Anna pulled a large raft of parchments from an inner pocket of her traveling cloak. She handed it to the small being, praying that he or she would find everything in order. The prior night, Anna had reviewed the many documents, verifying that they were all properly signed, dated, approved, reviewed, initialed, attested, notarized and imprinted with the official Ministry seals.

The creature snatched the parchments, scanning only the top sheet, and then dropped the whole stack on the floor. It turned, unlocked the large door, and left.

Anna quickly grabbed the precious papers before they could become soaked on the floor. Returning them to her pocket, she wondered what she might do until the small creature returned; or rather, if he returned. Lacking anything better to do, she sat on the cold chair and waited.

After what seemed like forever, she heard footsteps on the other side of the door coming towards her. But this time, there were more than one set of footfalls.

Anna stood quickly and retreated back to her place by the front door. She heard the key turn in the lock and held her breath. The gargoyle that'd been there before stepped inside the room, followed by another man who was much bigger but equally disturbing.

Stunned into silence at the sight of the large and, frankly, scary man, Anna only belatedly noticed that he was carrying something cradled in his arms; only it was not something, but someone. This someone was dressed in what looked like a long grey nightshirt, complete with a grey stocking hat and grey woolen socks. Anna guessed that this was the Ministry's idea of a traveling outfit.

Anger erupted within her as she thought of those at the Ministry in front of warm fireplaces deciding that this garment was sufficient to release someone from prison on a winter day. But before she could evoke further nasty thoughts about the Ministry, the large man unceremoniously dumped the grey swathed figure on the chair that Anna had previously occupied.

A low, quiet moan was all that escaped from the person, whose body seemed all but skeletal. The eyes were unfocused, and the body looked permanently hunched over from years of apparent mistreatment.

"That's him. Sign here," was all the gargoyle said.

Anna's eyes were transfixed on the small slip of a man. Was that him? He looked nothing like the man in the pictures her mother had shown her. Anna had to take a step towards him to convince herself that the gargoyle and his giant friend hadn't just picked out some half-dead derelict and tried to pass him off.

As if reading her mind, the gargoyle said again testily, "That's him. Sign here."

Anna quietly turned to the desk and signed the parchment the gargoyle held out. The parchment said, in part, that she, Anna Granger, had examined and identified the probationer and accepted full custody 'as is'. She could have been signing for a used broom with no bristles.

After she handed the parchment back to the gargoyle, both he and the giant man turned and left, locking the door on the way out.

Staring at the locked door, she only then realized that they were done with both of them, that this man was her responsibility and it was up to her to get him out of the building and home. Walking over to him, she said, as gently as she could, "Bet you're glad to be getting out of here, hmmm?"

She received no response. She moved over to him and slid her arm around his back and under his arm on the other side and attempted to coax him up. Again, she received no response. No effort to stand. No effort to communicate. Not even a turn of his head.

Anna nudged him again with a bright and encouraging, "Come on, now."

Still nothing. How was she going to get a full-grown man who wouldn't walk out of there alone? Though he was all but emaciated, he was still considerably taller than she was.

Perhaps she could lift him enough to get his feet underneath him and then he'd get the idea to walk. Wrapping both arms around his slight body, she heaved upward.

But heaving clearly wasn't necessary, as she nearly toppled over when he practically flew up out of the chair. Stabilizing both herself and the man in her arms, she realized with alarm that he weighed practically nothing. There was not enough meat on his bones to constitute a child. He had to weight 20 lbs less than her.

Adjusting the unresponsive man in her arms, she stamped down the anger at the Ministry that rose in her and threatened to spill out all over the building. How could they? This was just abusive, inhuman.

She forced her thoughts to more cheerful ones, as she didn't want to subject him to her anger. His life must have been bad enough already without him being the victim of her temper.

With the happiest voice she could manage, she said, "Well, I've got an idea. We'll have you out of here in a flash and into a nice warm van."

She noticed that this time there was a response. In contact with her body, he'd begun to shiver. Galvanized into action, she quickly set him back down on the chair and removed her own cloak, spreading it over his form. She mentally kicked herself for not anticipating this and bringing some warm clothes for him.

Tucking the cloak around him as best she could, she stepped over to the front door and opened it wide. As if to mock her efforts to keep the man warm, a cold wind blew forcefully into the small stone room. With haste, Anna stepped back to the frail man and slipped her arms under his legs and behind his back. Cautiously lifting him, she was again appalled at his condition. He was as light as a bird. She carefully maneuvered his still lengthy body out the door. She briefly thought about closing it, but, if nothing else, her leaving it open was only a small sign of her contempt for this place.

Outside, the wind picked up the loose flaps of her hastily arranged cloak, exposing some of the grey nightshirt he wore. Her biggest fear was that if she didn't get him to that van fast enough, he would somehow freeze to death. Walking quickly, she spared a short glance at the black granite headstone in the graveyard. Deep inside her, she whispered, 'Mom, you tried to save Professor Snape. You tried your best. But I promise I will save this one. I promise you, Mom.'

In a vain attempt at cheerfulness, she began a non-stop monologue of encouraging and happy statements. So concerned was she that she might fall or he might slip that Anna wasn't even sure what she was saying. In her ramblings, statements like 'We'll be home soon' and 'It's going to be warm in the van' and 'I have a nice room made up for you at home' or variations thereof figured prominently.

Anna was running out of breath during her run/walk down the path coupled with her non-stop chatter, and despite his emaciated state, he was getting heavy. Fear gripped her when his shivering became stronger, and she felt him turn slightly towards her in an attempt to avoid the cold winds.

Finally, around the last bend, she saw the magical boat launch where the small boat waited to take her back to the mainland, to where her van and driver were waiting. Carefully, Anna stepped into the boat, glad to see that it was firm and steady in the water despite the waves breaking on the shore. Remembering the crossing on the way over, she sat quickly and hunched herself over the man as best she could to protect him from the wind and the spray. Without pause, the boat began the slow but steady way across the grey expanse of sea. The trip seemed like it took forever. Anna looked around and saw nothing but grey – grey water, grey skies, grey boat. The spray occasionally blew over the sides of the boat and stung her face, and the immensity of her task threatened to overwhelm her. She brushed the moisture from her face, but she couldn't tell if the salty water was from the sea or her eyes.

As she focused her thoughts away from her fears and back to her charge, her endless commentary quickened. She told him that they were close and they would be home soon.

Getting out of the small boat and stepping again onto solid ground, she hollered to the driver, "Boowie, come here and open the door. Hurry!"

The annoyed driver, who had worked at the manor for many years first for her mother and now her, obliged at his own pace, opening the car's sliding side door. Anna stopped at the opening, at a loss as to how to get her and her charge into the vehicle. Boowie didn't appear to care much about his mistress' dilemma. Finally, Anna conceded to ask for help. Boowie worked for her and he'd do as he was told.

"Hold out your arms," she ordered.

"What?" the astonished man said. "I won't be touching one of them! I..."

"Now!" Anna bellowed.

Reluctantly, he extended his arms, turning his head as though something smelled very bad.

Anna placed the man into the driver's arms, fully aware from the look on Boowie's face that this needed to be quick.

Relieved of her burden, Anna hopped up into the back of the van and then reached to take the man from Boowie. She gingerly maneuvered the body into the vehicle and onto the seat and, before releasing her driver to his task, said, "Get home quickly, but drive carefully and take the back roads."

Boowie closed the door with a huff, all the while shaking his head in confusion at the contradictory instructions, mumbling, "Them kind don't deserve it."

Setting her passenger on the bench seat and propping him up as well as she could manage, she quickly prepared the interior. Before the inevitable bumpy ride home, Anna locked the door, lit two small interior lights, and darkened all the windows. In addition, she transfigured a wall between the front seats where Boowie was and the larger space in the back of the van.

Closed off from any prying eyes, she drew her wand and cast several warming charms and then transfigured the bench seat into a reclining seat that was large enough to lay her passenger down. Turning to the man, Anna slowly slid him down until he was lying flat, all the while speaking quietly to him, as though he were a scared rabbit ready to bolt into the night at any moment.

Anna positioned herself next to him. She pulled a traveling blanket from the storage box and folded it to use as a makeshift pillow. Gently lifting his head, she placed the blanket under him and carefully laid his head on it. Doing this brought the two of them quite close, and for the first time, Anna searched the man's face for his thoughts, his feelings at being taken from that hellhole.

He said nothing, but his eyes turned up towards her and seemed to be trying to focus on her. Taking this as a sign of... something, she again ratcheted up the chatter even brighter and cheerier than before.

"Now, we'll have to figure out a way for you to tell me if you need anything, if you're too warm or too cold or if you're hungry. We'll be home soon, and I have a nice big room waiting for you with a big fireplace. My mother told me you like corn muffins, so I had some made, and you can have butter or jam or honey on them, whichever you prefer. And I got you some new clothes. I hope they fit. If not, we'll have them tailored or get you some different ones. And you definitely need a bath. There's a big claw foot tub in your bathroom. We'll fill that up with nice warm water and some bubbles. Oh, no, no bubbles, a man like you doesn't need any girlie bubbles, eh?"

As the one-sided conversation continued unabated, Anna moved around the man, tucking her cloak tight around him, although by now it was getting rather warm in the moving vehicle. She moved to tuck the cloak around his legs, but his feet clearly weren't going to be covered by the short garment. Moving to pull his woolen socks up as far as they would go, she brushed his shin with her hands. Her conversation stopped at the feel of his skin. Under her hand, his leg was as cold as ice – practically frozen.

Fearing that her discovery and her silence would embarrass the man, she quickly began talking again. She finished pulling up his socks as she was speaking, but was distressed that a couple inches of skin on both legs were still exposed. Without another blanket or cloak to use for warmth, she decided to simply lay her hands on the bare skin, hoping to transfer a bit of her own body heat to the frigid flesh. To her surprise, the man seemed to make a noise. It sounded like a quiet sigh. After several moments, she moved her hands slightly to give a different patch of skin what little heat she could.

Suddenly, the whole van bumped up and down as it hit a large hole in the dirt road. Anna felt that she needed to be by his head for his protection. Another bump like the last one and he'd arrive home with a concussion.

She regretted having to withdraw her hands from his cold shins, but she felt she had to crawl up to sit next to his head. Anna took out her wand and elongated the socks to cover his legs where the cloak didn't.

Actually, the presence of the very rutted road was a good sign. It meant that they were halfway home. But another large bump sent everyone bouncing, and Anna quietly wondered if it wasn't really Boowie making his opinion of the events known. She'd have words with her pig-headed driver later. She quickly assessed the condition of her passenger; he looked to have survived the shock, although his head had slipped off the small pillow.

Looking down at him, she decided that she had to do something about the situation. She had to cushion his head against any more potholes. Carefully, Anna slid her arms under his head and down underneath his shoulders. Lifting him slowly, she shuffled herself enough to sit beneath him and then gingerly lowered his head down into her lap.

Feeling that her charge was sufficiently protected for the rest of the journey, she allowed herself to relax a bit for the first time that day. She looked down at the old man whose eyes were closed. In a brief moment of panic, her gaze shot to his chest. Anna released the breath she was holding when she saw the slight but reassuring rise and fall of his breathing.

With him asleep, she allowed her head to fall back against the wall. She closed her eyes, thinking about all that had happened, not just today, but from her earliest memories of her mother's crusade for him and Professor Snape. Her mind wandered down that well-worn path of what might have been. Anna didn't want to go there, but the images were all so wonderful – all bright and warm and inviting. She could have stayed there forever. Her life certainly would have been different. A bump in the road roused her from her imagination, and as she raised her head, several tear drops rolled down her face. She quickly wiped the moisture away, scolding herself for her weakness. Looking down, she found herself being observed by the gentle eyes of a concerned old man.