Famished: Prey

I ignored what Madeline said, and I wrote Ron.

Hedwig had come back that night, moving nervously, as if she was 
afraid of me. She came in, and I wrote a short letter, and she left fast. 

In the letter, I told him about my vampirism, my growing hunger, 
and my lack of control. I wanted him to help me.

He didn't write me back. He told the ministry. And they came for me.

Fudge led the troop of aurors to the house, scaring the Dursleys stupid. 
It scared me too. I tried to run, but they caught me. They chain me up 
and drag me out to a sort of magical squadcar, then throw me in the 
back. Fudge rides shotgun.

Fudge is still mad at me about the tournament, I can tell. And I don't 
think he's going to give my life a second thought. When I ask him 
who knows about this, he smiles sickly. "Everyone." I am furious, because 
he looks so happy. I ask him where he's taking me. His smile fades a bit. 
"Azkaban. A dementor free cell block." The change in his expression confuses me. Either my life does matter, or he's 
upset that I won't be around dementors. I think the latter, but I am not sure.

The car hits an uncrowded safe road, and the car disappears with 
a 'pop'. It reappears in front of a cold, aged castle. Azkaban. 

Reporters are there. They are watching me closely. Yelling questions 
for me to answer. "Mister Potter, when did this happen?", 
"Mister Potter, have you killed anyone yet?", "Any feelings, Mister Potter?" 

'Yes', I think silently. 'I am feeling scared out of my mind'. 
But I say nothing. They are craning for a look at my teeth to see if 
they are fangs. I know they are because I can feel them, sharp and pointy, 
retracting in my mouth. My body knows I'm hungry, and it can sense all 
the prey nearby, so my teeth respond in kind. 

I will not answer, because I don't want them to see my teeth. I don't want 
them to see what a disgrace I am. I will not let them make a monster of me. 

Cameras flash, and I involuntarily snarl and start snapping at the crowd, 
like a dog might snap at a mouse he's caught. They gasp as one and draw 
back, and the flashes increase. 

Then I am taken inside, and instantly I'd rather be with the reporters 
because of how depressing the air around me feels. I am thrown and locked 
in a cold and windowless cell, and I know I cannot escape.

Madeline was right. I should have become the predator. Instead, now I am 
the prey.

I put my head in my hands and cry.

My tears are black.