The story of Adaman Knaughts
My name is Adaman Owen Knaughts, originally Adaman Owen Kelly. I am 36 years old, and have made no noticeable mark upon the world. Yet something- I must have done something, though hardly the sort of something I intended. You cannot do nothing in life and end up in the Prison of Azkaban.
It is this fact that leads me to a ground I would rather not trod upon. Not Azkaban; I have been fortunate enough to arrive after the reign of the dementors, and though I’ve been told the place still stinks with grief and despair, I have yet to experience it. No, my greatest despair comes not from the environment, but simply from a lack of occupation for my mind. Yet somehow, the agony of lost freedoms and idle thoughts do not suffice as my punishment for- whatever I have done. I feel a guilt, and I am sure it is not birthed from my sentenced crime; I stand firmly on this; I committed crime only in the sense of law.
But if I have done nothing in conflict with my own morals and still I find myself in Azkaban, mustn’t there be something awry? Indeed, I must grown a sin long ago- so long ago I can’t remember having it planted. My punishment? It is also my redemption; I must find it and uproot it.
So it is on my own sentence that I write, and come once again to a pain in order to dispel the ache of my mind, the grit in my heart. Contained herein will be the tale of Adaman Knaughts. I can promise no excitement- in fact, I predict that those eyes who take the time to read this will certainly droop soon under the weight of my boredom. The only solace I can offer you- whoever you are- is that you have now become a rarity. Read further, and you will obtain a story that has all but died in its survival through others. You will become one of the few to ever know Adaman Knaughts.