The sky above Azkaban was thick with rain, and the sea was eager to match it, as both pelted Azkaban's black walls with all they had. There was barely enough light to see the lone figure flying towards the prison, their rich black robe flowing behind them in a way reminiscent of its former staff. They landed with a splash, but they were completely dry by the time they set their broom in the rack and approached the nearest door.

It opened before they could so much as knock. A gnarled face peered out, though no scar could mar the warm smile on their face.

"Mckenzie Calderwood." The figure flicked their identification out of their cloak, complete with a moving picture of her face and a stamp from the Auror's office. "Password is Chunky Grumbler."

"So 'tis." The man inside opened the door for her and she strode inside, all dignity and confidence. "Sorry t'call you out on a day like this, 'specially since you dressed up so fine." He said, as he closed the door behind her and adjusted his own baggy robes. They were fit for comfort, just like the rest of the office.

"No worries, Bailey." Mckenzie flashed a bright smile at the man. "Being pretty is its own reward."

A chorus of assent emerged from every corner of the room. Mckenzie's eye's flicked about to the fairies that had made themselves at home. One pair was warming their hands on a mug of tea, another resting in a bed of hammocks, while one more was attempting to eat a biscuit twice her size.

"But maybe not as nice as a jammy dodger." Mckenzie laughed.

"Ah, don't blame me. Ministry mandate." Bailey parked himself in his office chair, which just so happened to be a recliner. "Cheer the place up, they said. Not so bad as Dementors, I'll give 'em that."

"Can't say I disagree." Mckenzie held out a finger and one of the fairies flew over to it, her little pale feet cold against the dark digit. "So, what have I been summoned for? Imperio trauma? Faulty oblliviation? Amortentia recall?" She made a kissy face at the fairy, who returned it with a giggle, then flew to join her sisters by the biscuits.

"Nothing so easy as that." Bailey slipped his wand out of his sleeve, then sent a file floating towards the Auror. She caught it with ease and she gave it one quick look, then up at him. "Yep, mostly blank. No records of her name, no pictures in the files, no record of her cell being used. Just showed up the other day, claiming she was an elf, from another planet, all kinds o' nonsense."

"Hm. I might be here for a while, then." Mckenzie put the file back on the table. "Brew me a coffee, would you?"

"No problem." Bailey gave Mckenzie a little salute and she returned it. She had to admit, the stairwell was a little nicer with fairies flitting about, rather than Dark creatures. There was still a tingle of magic in the air, but it was much more pleasant – something to keep the other Aurors dry and warm while they made their rounds. Unnecessary with Dementors, but vital to keep the new staff happy.

Fortunately, the walk to the prisoner's cell was more pleasant than it had ever been. The prisoners were still dangerous, still not happy with their situation, but at least they weren't weeping, screaming, or begging for death. The memories of Mckenzie's first visit to Azkaban were only a few years old, but she got the feeling they'd be fresh even when she was on her deathbed.

Mckenzie smoothed out her features, cleared her throat, and adjusted her robes. She was a professional, and it was of the utmost importance that she present herself as such. As soon as a mad witch or wizard lost respect for her, her job was much harder.

But still, her mouth fell open when she turned the corner to the cell and saw the woman inside. Rather than the standard striped gray uniform all prisoners wore, she was clad in a lush purple robe. Rather than the cot they got to sleep in, she had a bed complete with fluffy pillows. And rather than looking the least bit discontent, she was chatting quite pleasantly with a fairy lounging on one of her pillows.

"...and they're all a bunch of buffleheads" The pixie said, her voice as squeaky as any of the others, but intelligible. Intelligent, even. "Witch!" She suddenly cried, then pointed at Mckenzie. How could a fairy be talking?

"Finally." The woman's voice was oddly accented, but that was far from the strangest thing about her. She gathered herself in one graceful motion and turned to face the bars of her cell. Her eyes were purple, shaped like almonds, and all too far from human. Her hair was silver, her skin near as pale, and fell around a pair of pointed ears that looked nearly as beautiful as the rest of her. "A visitor worth speaking with. You may address me as Ezra."

"M-Mckenzie Calderwood." Mckenzie damned that stutter, but there was no time for that. "I'm an Auror who specializes in the criminally deranged. And the word is that you're one such woman."

"How rude." Ezra looked down on Mckenzie. She was particularly tall. Not inhumanly so, but certainly statuesque. "You were right about these people, Skitter. No sense of decorum."

"Buncha stinkers." The fairy nodded her head vigorously, as she flew up and landed on the elf's shoulder.

"I'm sorry." Mckenzie briefly bowed her head. "Poor choice of words, but it is what I do. I see you've been hard at work with some wandless magic since you've been here." She nodded at the luxury furniture inside the cell. "You must be a very talented witch."

"A witch? Please. They meddle with middling arcane power at best." Ezra said. "But I understand that's part of your local dialect, so you're forgiven."

"Most kind." Mckenzie said. Her heart wasn't in it. "So, why the ears, Ezra? Metamorphmagus?" Perhaps part-Veela, which Mckenzie would not let herself be jealous of. "Cosmetic magic? It's getting more and more popular, I hear."

"I was born with them." Ezra said. Skitter demonstratively pulled on the prisoner's ear, as if to demonstrate how real it was.

"Ah." Mckenzie smiled knowingly. "They are very pretty. Like a fairy's. Have you always been fond of fairies, Ezra?"

"I have great respect for all manner of Fey." Ezra said. "I was rather expecting more from the ones that live here, but I had to make Skitter my familiar just to converse. Another oddity of planar travel, I suppose."

"I'd noticed that you got her to talk – how did you manage that?" Mckenzie had heard of plenty of methods of talking with animals, parseltongue in particular, but none to make them speak like people. Her tentative theory was some kind of ventriloquism, which she'd encountered a few times in her past. There was one mad wizard who'd animated the skulls of his victims, each necessary to talk for one of his supposed personalities.

"With around eight hours and a lot of gold. It's a taxing ritual, but well worth it for my talkative companion." Ezra smiled.

"Yeah! I've been telling her all about all the things!" Skitter declared, both hands on her hips. "I'm gonna be Queen of the Fairies, now. I can even do magic!" She said, as she held up her hand and little sparks danced on her fingers.

Mckenzie inhaled.

"Technically, she's simply borrowing my reserves of magic." Ezra said. "But it keeps her happy, you understand."

"I...see." Mckenzie would have to tell the Ministry about this. She was no slouch, she wouldn't be an Auror if she was, but this kind of magical theory was far beyond her. "The head of staff tells me that you just showed up one day, How did you come to be here, from your perspective?"

"Oh, wonderful! You're asking interesting questions at last." Ezra nodded approvingly. "I was investigating a machine of particular arcane significance – does the name Lum the Mad mean anything to you? No? Well, his name was Lum, and he was mad. He created this machine that conjured creatures from all over the planes, and I was taking over the study of it when one unknown button summoned a peculiar creature. Incorporeal, undead, and very capable of affecting emotions, what was it called again, Skitter?"

"A Dementor!"

"Yes, a Dementor." Ezra nodded. "Naturally, I carry equipment to shield my mind from such things, though the lesser mages didn't. It was with a heavy heart that I had to destroy it."

"You destroyed a Dementor." Mckenzie repeated.

"Yes."

"Just, gone. Just like that?" She snapped her fingers.

"Yes. I'd prepared spells for any eventuality – undead included." Ezra smiled. "Then, I-"

"You can't destroy Dementors, Ezra. Surely you were taught this?" Or she ought to know, if she was skilled enough to practice wandless transfiguration.

"Why not?" Ezra raised an eyebrow. "It was no demilich, I'll tell you that much."

"They're...you just, can't." Mckenzie said. There wasn't any explanation, not that she could think of. But it was an established fact, one she remembered well. The only reliable counter to the presence of a Dementor was the patronus charm.

"I heard they're a metaphor for depression." Skitter offered.

"Don't be absurd." Ezra scoffed. "The point is, I destroyed it and sought the source. The machine wasn't entirely reliable, but it was the best tool I had for the task at hand. A few levers pulled, and I found myself teleported to the location the Dementor was most attuned to. That was this cell. It quickly became clear just how unusual this world was, compared to my own, and so I resolved to find someone with authority to help familiarize me with its contents."

"Oh. Right." Mckenzie scratched at her collarbone. It was a story that explained Ezra's appearance in the cell, but it was also one that sounded entirely fabricated. Normally, she would put it down to a false memory charm, but that wouldn't solve the mystery of how Ezra wound up in the cell in the first place. "Did somebody else not try to talk with you, before I arrived?"

"That homely human did, but I didn't enjoy looking at him." Ezra said. "I wasn't about to let him be my guide, so I told him to get someone prettier or he'd learn nothing from me."

"I see." Mckenzie would have been flattered, if it weren't so weird. "Well, I'm willing to help you however I can. Would you like something to drink, before we talk some more?"

"Oh, I gave up on drinking long ago. Too much time, risk of poisoning...but somewhere nicer, that, I would like. Somewhere sunny." Ezra said.

"Sorry, I can't let you out of your cell." Mckenzie apologized.

"Don't worry; I can manage it." Ezra said, as she brushed her fingers against the lock and it snapped. She pushed the cell door open and strolled out, Skitter grinning on her shoulder.

Mckenzie whipped out her wand. "Ezra. Please return to your cell, or I'll be forced to stun you."

"Hm." Ezra scratched her chin and the air around her seemed to shimmer. "Are you certain you want to battle me? I don't want to seem arrogant, but I really am very talented."

"You have until the count of one." Mckenzie said, firmly. She had to make threats that she could follow through with, and no matter the talent, a wandless witch would always lose to an armed one.

"Really?"

"Five."

"I don't believe this."

"Four."

"We were getting along so well."

"Three."

"Are all the witches this rude, Skitter?"

"Two."

"Yeah, they suck!"

"One!" Mckenzie's hand twitched with practiced ease. A bolt leaped out to strike at Ezra's head, but bounced harmlessly off of some invisible shield.

"Oh..oh my." Ezra laughed. "Is that the best you can do?"

Mckenzie felt stupefied herself. She launched another stunning spell, but the same thing happened. Ezra's laughter rung in her ears. She attempted a paralyzing spell, and the same thing happened. She tried to blind Ezra, to make her robes bind her in place, to turn her legs to metaphorical jelly, and the whole time, the other woman just laughed. Finally, she had to let her wand droop in her hand. What was happening?

"Oh, you poor, sweet child." Ezra shook her head and tittered a little more. "You really don't know a thing, do you?"