The Great Escape
Chapter 1
Authors notes – well for those people who're following my other stories, I have no excuse as to why I wrote this and not update the others. Trust me they're in the works. This was just a plot bunny that wouldn't go away, in fact it visited me at midnight and beat me over the head with about three or four chapters worth of ideas. Sleep? What's that? I didn't get any last night so decided to put it down in electronic form before I lost it.
The large black dog gazed with unusually intelligent eyes into the swirling eddies of water caused by the raging seas of the Northern Atlantic washing against the stones of the dock area. So far he'd been inordinately lucky, no one had seen him to ask just what such a large dog was doing in such a bleak inaccessible place and everything was going smoothly, well as smoothly as anything had gone for him in the last five years what with the war and everything else.
Looking back at the dark water he just knew it was going to be icy cold, but he really didn't have any other options, it was either this or learn to fly, and his body just wasn't built for it. Reaching out tentatively he allowed his paw to trail into the water.
'Merlins balls!! That's bloody colder than the nether rings of Hades!' he whined as he thought about his earlier understatement shaking as much of the frigid liquid from his limb as he could. There was a chance that just getting into the water alone would kill him, but again, where were the other options? He'd tried to book a nice cruise from the island prison and they wouldn't return his call, 'Some people!' he snorted.
'Well, nothing else for it…' he thought, pacing away from the edge of the stone platform jutting out into the icy arctic waters. Turning to face the water he steeled himself, taking a tentative step he began to move faster and faster, 'Come on, you can do this. Yeah, that's the way just a little more,' Unfortunately his mind was saying yes, but the instincts in his body were telling him a totally different thing when his rear legs folded under him and he skidded to a halt looking down into the water while a few pebbles tumbled over the edge and disappeared into the frothy water beating futilely against the stone bulwark of Azkabahn prison.
Looking around carefully the dog of indeterminate breed sought any sign that his disappearance from his cell had been discovered. So far he'd been lucky, inordinately so, if he was honest with himself. Who knew that animagii were almost totally immune to the effects of dementors? Who knew that the ministry was so sure that the dementors were so effective that they felt it was only necessary to place the most rudimentary locks on the cells? I mean, how could someone under the effects of the dementors, and possessing no wand even utilize a high enough powered Alohamora to be able to open the door? Normally they would have been right, for nearly two years he'd been unable to even think about such a thing, even taking his next breath had seemed to be too much effort at times, and others it had hardly seemed worthwhile.
Of course if he hadn't spontaneously transformed that first time he never would have figured out that his animagus form lessened the effect the dementors had on him. In fact he'd still be lying on the floor of his cell feeling the guilt of convincing Lily and James that using Pettigrew as their 'Secret Keeper' would be a better, less obvious choice than he could ever be. It'd taken eight months for him to recover enough, without potions or chocolate to aid him, so that he could think clearly and comprehend that he was only responsible for convincing them of his idea, the betrayal had been all on the part of that slimy rat. Shortly after that he'd remembered the actions of his so called friends and colleagues, people who'd known him all his life, from school and from the 'Order' couldn't wait to abandon him, condemn him and then watch him rot for a crime he hadn't committed.
The biggest betrayal of all, as far as he was concerned had been the leader of the 'Order of the Phoenix', Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, a man with so many titles he didn't know what to do with them all. A veteran of two wars against Dark Lords, a master of political infighting and intrigue, a tactical and strategic genius and a man that knew Sirius both inside and out. He'd known the forces that shaped the youth that'd been a part of the Marauders, and the struggles he'd overcome to become his own man despite the Black families best efforts to turn him into as big a mudblood hating bastard as they were. So if any one should have fought for him, for his freedom then it should have been Albus. But the old man had just watched coldly as the Minister had sentenced him to life in the vilest prison known to mankind, the twinkle ominously absent from his faded blue eyes.
It'd taken another couple of months before the anger at his treatment had grown sufficiently for him to wish to do anything about it. First things first, he needed to escape from the prison. Nothing else mattered until he'd managed to do that small feat. He'd actually found it much easier to do than he would ever have thought possible, not that he wasn't thanking the ministry for their short-sightedness. Aside from the dementors, there wasn't really much in the way of security, just normal anti-apparition, anti-portkey along with some rather potent wards that made the prison unplottable for anyone, muggle or wizard included. The only human presence on the island was a ten man auror contingent that rarely stirred from their warded chambers, if he was lucky it could be as long as a week before they even discovered he was missing.
So here he stood on a slab of rock jutting out into the sea, while the imposing, angular bulk of the prison rose up behind him formed of the dark basalt that had risen from the sea bed untold millennia before. The only access to where he stood was from the stairs that rose three stories and terminated with a heavy iron bound oak door. That'd been the biggest risk in his escape, a dog might go unnoticed, but he couldn't shift the door in his canine form and had to return to human for a dangerous, nerve-wracking thirty seconds. He just knew that there was a good chance the dementors had noted his presence then and would eventually come to investigate, when they did he'd have to be gone, not even his animal form would save him if they discovered a living animal on the dock, they'd soon rectify that situation.
It seemed he'd waited too long when the door above him crashed open, whirling to see what was coming his padded feet lost traction on the sea-spray slickened stone and his legs flailed as he fell sideways. Landing half on and half off the dock the blow knocked most of the wind from his lungs as he slid into the icy water with a startled yelp before the turbulence grabbed his body and pulled him under and ground him into the unyielding rock forcing even more air from his protesting lungs. WThe darkness engulfed him as the water swirled every which way turning about and disorienting him pounding, feeling his limbs rend and then like a cork he came to the surface as the relentless pushing reversed and just as quickly pulled him out to sea. Gasping and wheezing as he fought to stay on the surface he soon realized that if he didn't begin to swim away from the prison then he'd soon freeze to death, or drown, at the moment he figured he had a fifty-fifty chance of going either way and somewhere in the middle the slimmest sliver of a hope that he'd survive long enough to be able to apparate out of this hellish situation.
Struggling to paddle against the ocean he cursed whoever had designed the body he currently possessed, a body that was definitely not designed with these conditions in mind. He needed to be in his human form so badly, but then he might as well sign his death warrant if he did, in the chaotic moments after he'd ended up in the sea he'd been able to see the dock where he'd been standing just a short half minute before and could see the dark shrouded figures of the soul sucking denizens of Azkabahn moving agitatedly along the width of the dock as they sought some sign of the human they'd sensed. With renewed vigour he struggled onwards and away to his only hope of freedom, either in life or death.
'How long? How far?' his mind asked as he struggled on, looking back he could see the black rock plinth that rose from the tumultuous storm swept sea and felt that he hadn't moved very far at all, even though he could no longer see the dock. Not nearly far enough as he hadn't felt any lessening in the pressure of the wards at all, his body was becoming numb even as he expended his magic in a vain attempt to thwart the icy fingers of death, he pushed onwards willpower alone driving him into the dark night. Eventually even his willpower failed him and he could feel the weight of his waterlogged fur finally dragging him under the water as he sighed the last of the air in his lungs fatalistically.
'So this is it?' an oddly peaceful thought that hardly fit the life of the man he'd been, but that man hadn't spent three years in hell, in comparison to that the peace he found in this place was heaven. He was ready, if this was his fate then let it be.
The pressure of the water had grown so much his numb mind nearly missed the lessening of a particular pressure he'd prayed for just moments before, 'Wards? Too late? Try!' Pulling every reserve he knew he had, everything inside of him even if it led to his death he concentrated on a place, scrabbling to think of a place, safely warping the remnants of his magic and praying to whatever gods might be watching over any fools such as he, that he had enough to make it, he attempted his first apparition in three long years.
Feeling darkness descend over him, his mind began to close even as he felt every cell in his body jerk as if suddenly electrified, a moment later nature proved that she truly hated a vacuum as a vaguely dog shaped void in the ocean collapsed forcing the air explosively to the surface.