(05,09,XX)

[On a tattered piece of parchment resides the legible, yet somewhat messy writing.]

Today, I decided to start writing on parchment. The Auors seem to be mad with my etching into the walls and floors. Been busy writing essays, only way to keep sane in such an Asylum. I heard rumours that Durious Black is still around, however, he seems to be content.

I never truly understood the reason behind my attack on that student, until today. My mind had been driven insane by the past events, and my emotions fueled me into commiting the crime. I do openly admit to casting Crucio on her. But, there was an explaination as to why, that was never heard by anyone, not even asked.

Weeks before, Bart died. However, that wasn't what was on my mind at that time. A few days prior to his death, there were three more, that have yet to be announced to the Wizarding Society. This being the murde case of my family. My sister, father, and mother all died at the hands of unknown wizards.

With this matter pressed on me, the simplest commotion got me angry, and this girl pushed me past my limits. Naveah Samuels, that name etched into my mind, and arm. Unusual punishment, yes, however, the Aurors that it would suit me, to remember she was the one that inflicted a life of torture onto me, because I did to her.

She seemed alright at first, then she developed into a snotty attitude. Yelling into my face, then slapping me. Hardly the thing to get me mad, however, casting too, that got me. So I did what I did, and now look where it ended me up. Azkaban. Oh, how I dred such actions.

(06,09,XX)

[A brief note is scribbled on the tattered remains of what looks to have been a whole sheet of parchment. This size of note is roughly the size of half a page]

I have grown weaker with every day. I am thin, pale, and exhausted. I am no longer hungry, because the amount of hunger that I sustained as numbed such feelings. What even is worse, is the amount of times the Dementors attack cells. The other day, I was nearly kissed by one, the Aurors called it off. But, my question is as to why are the Dementors so free to do as they will, and the Aurors allow until you are near death, then pull away?

I believe they are doing this to ensure that I can regain enough strength to be tortured again. This is going beyond what I had expected.

(04,09,XX)

[An outdated mail escapes the cell of Azkaban. Blood stains were present on the parchment.]

See to this that you follow up on what I request. In two days time, I shall no longer be around. My death will be the news of tomorrow, and my visitor will deliver you this message. No other person, but the faculty of the school may read this. Not even the Ministry.

The Ministry is not so "wonderful" as they claim to be. Deaths have been popping up out of no where, and they blame us. But, it is them who are to blame. Three deaths have gone unreported by the Ministry. My families. They have yet to report anything about even the deaths, or their existance. The Ministry is concealing something, and I want it to be found out as my dieing wish.

(No date is written upon the long written journal entry. It is as if Sean Asherel has waited this long to publish this last note)

It's finally happened, I am no longer wishing to live. The Ministry contimplated my death date, and I surpassed their expectations. Few have lived in Azkaban this long, only a few, only a few...

However, they have been leeching around my cell, eyeing me, prodding me, but I don't budge. I am tired of feeling like a test subject in here. It was all a mistake! One mistake sealed my fate here, one childish move, one outlashed agression upon another student. And to imagine, I had my entire life to look up to. Had I never even run into her, nor casted the spell in a lapse of judgment, I would not be in this cell surrounded by Dementors. Now! I am having visions! It keeps replaying, and replaying in my head! It won't stop!

No visitors, the last was Tammy, and she didn't stay long. They wouldn't allow her even though she pleaded with the stationed Guard. But, I cope with the visions. At times they fill the room, most are of friends, others are of enemies, others are just my fears. I am driven beyond the point of insanity. I need fresh air!

One thing is for sure, Hogwarts would be impressed with my work habbit. Four Hundred and fifty essays and counting, all ranging on a variety of topics. Most of the importance of proper casting, and the rammifications of illegal spell use. I think I wrote ten drafts of one the other night, I lost track.

There has been a increase of security though, more dementors, or more patrols. I am unsure, but they are around. It's so cold in here. If I had my wand, no, if I had fire, I would be fine. But nothing, other then the constant draft from the grate under me.

Death surrounds me, it terrorizes me. But, I keep my mind set on one thing, one thing, my freedom that will be earned under good behavior. Hopefully. It's been atleast a few years, two to four. Who knows? I ran out of wallspace with my calendar. But, I question the possible future, what would come of me if I was released? Would I return to a somewhat normal life? Or would I seek revenge? I am sure it would be the first choice, but my mind switches sides day in and day out.

My wand! I nearly forgot! Those bloody guards better have it still. Last time I checked they did, if not they owe me a replacement!

My freedom will come at a price, and I am willing to pay.