Azkaban gave Zora the creeps. That was the point, of course, and it was effective. Indeed the last time the veteran Auror had cause to be there was the damned prison break of 2004 when lapses in security broke like a cracked dam and scores of incarcerated Death Eaters escaped. On that day, she’d run herself nearly to death, barely avoiding Unforgivable Curses from stolen wands. Most of those escaped were re-captured before they reached shore, others in the following months, but a handful were never found.

But this time, Zora Roh was visiting on routine. An Azkaban guard had been found dead. This was just another task in what must be, had to be, a thorough investigation. Speaking with his colleagues could not be skipped and would likely prove a valuable source of information.

A ride across the frigid ferry, a trek up a steep and treachous staircase carved from boulders and crags, and through many sturdy and impassable doors, she was in the fortress.

She was greeted in a stark lobby and was kept waiting twenty minutes by a uniformed sentry. Then, finally a wix in a smart grey suit emerged from the only door.

“Persephone Demos,” they said offering a firm handshake. “Ministry liaison. You must be Zora Roh.”

Zora returned the greeting. “Yes, ma’am. You’ve made some personnel available to my investigation.” It wasn’t a question - that was the expectation and she wasn't keen to be yanked around.

Yes, of course. Demos made frown appropriately sorrowful.

“We were all so disturbed by Mr. Shahidi’s death. Brought down a pall over everything. If there’s anything we can do to assist, we’ll do it.”

Satisfied, Zora followed Demos through a few doors and shortly they arrived in a dingy break-room, cleared of people. There was an ancient coffee pot, banged-up lockers, and chairs around a few round tables. Billets and pamphlets were pinned to a bulletin board.

Mx. Demos had left to fetch the first contact, a guard who’d worked closely with Shahidi. He arrived, Demos gave him an inscrutable look, and he sat down looking rather dire. He was a sturdy fellow, in a well-worn uniform, and a short-cropped beard.

Zora smiled although she wasn’t very good at it.

“Mr. Callow, correct? I’m Zora Roh and I’m an Auror investigating the death of Gilgamesh Shahidi. Ms. Demos - ”

“It’s Mx.”

Zora furrowed her brows. “Sorry?”

“It’s Mx. Demos, not Ms.”

“Oh. Quite right. Thank you. Mx. Demos said you might be able to help me. But I want to stay first that I’m very sorry for your loss. I’ve heard Mr. Shahidi was a good man."

Fred Callow nodded but said nothing.

“Alright, let’s get started. This is an informal interview, you’re not under arrest, and you’re permitted to have legal counsel present if you wish. That said, it’s in the best interest in this investigation, and your best interest, to be completely honest with me. Understand?”

Callow nodded.

“Good. How long have you known Mr. Shahidi?”

“Twelve years.”

“From work? And what’s your relationship? Do you work together? See each other outside of work? Get along alright.”

“We worked in the same cell block. Last four years, I think. I mean, I’ve been round his place for dinner once or few, for dinner right? The missus was a great cook. Eh, uh, but yeah. Good chap.”

Zora took notes calmly, nodding along. “Good, thanks. What block is that?”

At this question, Callow looked at his hands, then as if shuffling off a bad feeling, looked back up.

“ESB. Er, Excessive Security Block.”

“Remind me?”

“Worst of the worst. Most of them lot’s in solitary. Real quiet mostly.”

“And how’s he been the last few weeks? Did Mr. Shahidi seem worried about anything? Did he say anything about feeling threatened?”

“No, nothing like that,” Callow said, scratching his ear and looked at the door twice. Zora began to suspect they’d entered some uncomfortable ground.

“Anything unusual happen? What’s typical?”

Callow shrugged and shook his head. “There’s a routine. Get the reports from the night shift, do a count. Most of ‘em are in solitary, like I said, get their morning business done one by one. Meals, another count. Sometimes visitors. Sometimes a ruckus but it’s real locked down, right?”

“What kind of visitors?”

“They keep a log down ‘ere,” he said quickly. “I don’t know who all. Usually, uh, lawyers and that.”

“Sure. But do you remember anyone in particular.”

He shook his head.

“Well, let me know if you do. Would be a big help. Lets see. Do you know if Mr. Shahidi had any enemies? Did he clash with any prisoner in particular?”

“Hard to say, ma’am. They’re all right gits. Not be in here otherwise. Never let our guard down, no kind of way. But Gil, he was a good chap, I said. Kind as he could manage with this lot.”

“Thank you. When was the last time you spoke with Mr. Shahidi?”

Callow took some time to think about this. “Few weeks. Last shift before he, you know...”

“Right. And have you been to Yorkshire recently? Ever been to the Bempton Cliffs?” She looked him dead in the eyes.

“No,” he answered quickly, sitting up straighter. “I wouldn’t. He was a mate. Good chap. I’d never -”

Zora held the gaze a moment then ceased with a smile. She shut her notebook and stood.

“That’s all I have, Mr. Callow. Really appreciate it. Owl if you think of anything else.”