AN: Sometimes I can't decide if something I thought might not be apparent being really apparent is because I'm a good writer or because I'm a bad writer… Dear Chapter Select button: do you have any ideas? Similarly, all ideas and thoughts expressed by characters are their own, not mine.

"You didn't have to come with me." Harry stepped over a puddle of water on the ground, his robes settling into place around him with a soft billow. "I'm more than capable of looking after myself."

"I was told to escort you here", Susan's eyes narrowed, "Be grateful I'm not detaining you, rather than complaining that you don't have keys to the front door."

Harry's eyes flickered towards where the fog was hiding the distant castle. "There probably isn't a front door."

"And who's fault is that?"

There was no response from the man as he stalked along the path a little faster, moving away from the apparition point, causing Susan to trot to keep up. "I'm not proud of what I did."

"Sometimes I wonder."

"Would you be proud?" His eyes met hers for a second, haunted determination being quickly buried, "Would you be proud if you'd had to kill people you'd gone to school with, had lessons with, laughed and joked with? Do you think anyone would be proud of that?"

"A psychotic murderer who can't handle not being needed?" She raised an eyebrow, "Certainly."

"Thank you for your words of comfort."

"Not a problem." The redhead glanced around them for a second, running her eyes over the pitted ground, craters filling with the rain that was spitting down from the heavens, "What did you do here?"

"The dementors." He halted, pointing a finger back down the path towards one of the branches they hadn't taken, "The last of them died at the end of that path. Barring those kept for research."

"Seems a little drastic."

"Sometimes genocide is the preferred option." His back stiffened slightly as his eyes trailed towards where the end of the path once was, if not covered in the rotting wood from the forest that had originally been one of the few spots on the island that was more than dirt and rock. "They had grown too strong, there were too many of them. We spoke very little of a common language, and there were few prisoners that anyone wished to condemn to a soulless existence." His fingers ran along the length of the pale wand strapped to his off-hand, "We tried to negotiate, but they refused."

There was an awkward silence as they continued down the path, Harry's face seeming to grow more gauntly haunted with every step, eyes flitting about the desolate rock. Susan glanced across at him, feeling a twinge. Guilty perhaps, or even pity. "Why are we here?"

He glanced over at her, "If I knew that, we wouldn't be here. Whatever it is, it was worth killing a man for."

"Dennis?"

"Barely managed to tell me that there was something going on at Azkaban before a failsafe kicked in." He paused. "Never seen anything like it. Only conclusion I made is that it was a Mark of some kind. Something with trigger words, at the least."

"Hogwarts wasn't you?" She sounded sceptical, and he couldn't blame her. Who wouldn't be sceptical?

"Albus insisted that I go and meet him. Apparently the old codger was lonely. Fucking portraits." Harry shrugged, "Dennis informed you, you sent out men in force, I went to ask him why and got distracted."

"I don't suppose you considered surrendering and sorting it out at the Ministry?" Peevishness crept into her voice, which Harry supposed was to be expected. She was the head of law enforcement and they were, had been, close. "Letting us do our jobs, and letting you do yours, whatever it is."

"Convicted criminals don't exactly have a job to do." He raised an eyebrow, "And last time I tried surrendering to Madame Bones I was stunned by a squad of Aurors. I hate to think what Prewett would have done to me."

"You seriously injured an entire squad of Hit Wizards!"

Harry paused again, the distant fortress of Azkaban visible in the gloomy mist that was lingering, "They seriously couldn't handle a Cerberus between them?"

"Americans."

"You must be joking."

Susan snorted, "I barely trust them to know one end of the wand from the other."

"What happened to Salem?"

"Overran by insurrectionists twelve years ago."

"Chiago?"

"Six years."

He turned to face her, "Is there anywhere on that side of the Atlantic where we still have a hold?"

"Depends on who you ask." She frowned, "The Minister rarely comments, especially to me, but I'm under the impression that we're holding onto New York rather tenaciously."

"Makes me wish I'd told Albus to stuff it."

"Why didn't you?"

"Remus Lupin and Nymphadora Tonks." He shrugged, "They hand delivered some letters. I read them. It was a refreshing change from the normal publishing letters."

She stepped back next to him as he started moving again, "You mean you let them just walk up to the door and knock on it?"

"Shouldn't I?"

"According to the three squads of aurors that have been swallowed up and spit back out, seriously maimed, over the last couple of weeks, you don't do that."

His brow crinkled in a frown, "Did they try walking through the front gate?"

Susan frowned, "I'd presume so."

An eyebrow was arched towards unruly air, "I'd presume not if they were getting seriously maimed. There's some highly experimental test subjects on the land."

"Like Manticores?"

"Amongst other things." Harry stopped again, flicking his wand towards the castle in front of them, "They didn't hurt them did they? Manticores are rather fragile."

"Fragile?" Susan had never quite managed to sound so shocked.

"Compared to some of the other things on the property, definitely." Harry shot her a disappointed look, "And Manticores are easy to handle anyway. Didn't you learn anything from Hagrid?"

"I was normally too busy trying to survive his latest creation."

"He wasn't that bad!"

"People got injured every year."

The eyebrow was raised once more, "And at Beauxbatons, they had a student fatality every year."

"Salem never had injuries."

"And then they got overrun by the dregs of society and a few people with a dream too big for their boots," Harry pointed out. "They were obviously doing something wrong."

Susan snorted, "If you ever met the Hit Wizards you wouldn't doubt it in the slightest." There was a pause, "Though, of course, the fact that the Hit Wizards are so terrible is possibly why Salem was overrun so quickly."

"You mean that some of the Americans aren't terrible."

"Good enough to force us all the way from west coast to east coast." She frowned, "Given that you said you'r-."

"Statute of Secrecy." He nodded towards the desolation around them, "It can be very hard to cover up the damage once you start throwing enough magic around. The Muggles will only believe so many cover stories before their military starts to enquire."

"Because Dolores would care."

"Dolores isn't stupid." A sigh escaped his lips, "Although I suspect that I've spelled the end of my vacation."

"I'll be more than happy to put you back on vacation. You know that I'm going to have to bring you in eventually." Susan's hand tightened round her wand inperceptibly, "Orders only last for so long."

"If you say so." He glanced at her at the corner of his eye, pausing for just a second before nodding, "Yes, they do."

~~TDD~~TDD~~TDD~~TDD~~

"Are you preparing?"

"Preparing for what?"

Moody snorted, "Don't play stupid with me Granger."

"That's Professor Granger these days." She laughed when he shot her one of those looks, before continuing, "Fine, if you must know. I sent out a message."

"All the old crowd?"

"Those that are trustworthy."

"Short list."

Hermione winced, "Putting it mildly."

"I hope you remembered to take Prewett off."

"Charlie is as bad as Percy." She sighed "The twins were a risk, but I sent them a message. A call to arms, if you like." Her fingers drummed across the tabletop where she was scribbling some notes onto the Masters thesis she was marking, "No answer."

A grunt came from the battle-scarred Auror as he continued pacing around the room, "I suppose it's the same elsewhere?"

"Amelia is a possible. And maybe a few of the others, but when it's a message from Harry?" Her eyes tightened imperceptibly, "Most of them still think he murdered Dumbledore, let alone condemning him over Ron."

"You have to see it from their point of view." His single eye fixed on hers, "Even I thought he'd gone off his rocker when I came back to headquarters to find you crying over the body."

There was a little helpless shrug, "Frustration, anger."

"If you say so."

"Forgive my momentary lapse." Sarcasm bit into Moody, making him wince.

He nodded towards the shelf where the diaries were kept, "Bet there's a ton written about him in them."

"I never touched him." She snorted, "Wouldn't have either."

Moody's eye touched on the ceiling for a second before he nodded, slowly, understandingly. "Potter knows?"

"I doubt it."

"Are you ever going to tell him?"

"Would you?" She snorted. "Not that I think I need to. He probably already knows."

Moody's scars seemed to relax for a second, softening his carved granite face, before he nodded brusquely and turned to the door, "I'd best be getting off to this lecture then."

"Don't get eaten."

His single eye blinked for a second as the door closed behind. What kind of advice was that?

~TDD~TDD~TDD~TDD~

"Do you know there was a theory about why it rained all the time around Azkaban?"

Susan glanced at the wizard, feeling rain bouncing coldly off of the Impervious charm she'd wound around her cloak.

He continued, wand continuing to sketch the air in front of them, "There was a researcher who said that it was the ambient magical energy of the residents. That if you got enough magicals drowning in sorrow then it would disturb the natural weather patterns."

"Are you suggesting that a few clowns being on the staff would deal with the weather?"

"Course not. It's bullshit." He snorted, "It's just the Irish sea. Fucking Irish."

"Can't have a rainbow without the rain." Susan smirked, "And what would a leprechaun be without a rainbow?"

Harry raised an eyebrow, "Richer?" Stowing his wand away he shook his head, dispelling the good natured air that had appeared between them, "There's active wards."

"There shouldn't be." Susan frowned, as much at herself for letting him start to breach the professional distance between them as at the news, "This place is abandoned. Hasn't been used since the Dementors moved on."

Somewhat exasperatedly, Harry nodded towards the once-prison,"Conjure a bird and send it to the gateway."

Susan peered through the gloom, the rain beginning to pelt down harder, "You can detect them from this far away?"

"You might not want to take more than half a dozen steps forward." His wand appeared in his hand again at a thought, and he flicked out a burst of black sparks that settled into a rough line in front of them. "They're rather aggressive."

"Any reason you aren't conjuring a bird?"

"Would you trust it if I did?"

She nodded grudgingly, "Point."

Stepping forwards, she flicked her wand and sent a bird flying towards the gate. It barely crossed the line of black sparks on the ground before it exploded, the light blinding her for a second.

Harry watched for a second before commenting, "That was surprisingly boring. You're a pure blood?"

She frowned, "My dad was a muggle."

"Doubtful, not with that small a reaction. He was probably a Squib of some kind" Harry nodded towards the line of black sparks, "Blood based ward. Not particularly intelligent, designed to incapacitate anyone that isn't at least third generation."

"And you made me test it?"

"I'd always wondered about the rumours." He paused for a second, re-examining it, "Though this ward is particularly shoddy. It's a common issue with poorly designed purity wards."

Susan scowled, "You're getting arrested after this is over."

"I doubt it."

"Think blondie is going to protect you?" Susan snorted, "She didn't even tell me her name."

"You want some aurors left at the end of the week." It was a calm certainty that he spoke with, not just a threat, but a promise, "There's not a snowball's chance in hell that you can bring me in."

Susan's scowl grew even more pronounced.

~TDD~TDD~TDD~TDD~

Molly clung to the last diary as she processed the last few pages. Like her mother, she had both a passionate temperament and a tendency to hotheadedness but, for once, she was wondering if her tendency to jump before she looked came more from her father. The diaries had painted a picture of him as the books never had. Brave, unyielding, unforgiving, utterly relentless in his drive to pursue his goals. It terrified her in some ways. That her father, distant as he could be, could have ever been the man that Professor Granger, Hermione, wrote about in her books.

Today Harry told me that he intended to die for us at the end of the second rise.

She shivered, trying to forget the words, forget what had been said, forget what her father had chosen to give up.

He knew, as did we all, that he had people waiting for him. Those he loved, those he cared for. Those that loved him, those that cared for him. Perhaps I should have told him more frequently, more often, beyond those few moments in the tent, beyond those few moments when we were so deep into one adventure or another that it could be brushed off as a momentary lapse in what he always thought was my rational mind. I slapped him, twice. His eyes had gone distant when he told me, trying not to look at me, so I slapped him. He went out to the final resting place of Lord Voldemort with my handprint on his face and my harsh words in my mind.

Her eyes welled up, imagining his state of mind. The end of a war, several long wars. His enemies dead around him, his friends too. There was a soft footstep outside, a head full of bushy hair, a pair of comforting arms around her. A charm, she presumed, to let Hermione know when she finished each of the books. Normally she would resent it, curse herself for not checking. There were too many people who would try to kill the daughter of the Dark Lord Potter. Even if, even when, he probably wasn't.

As I write this, he marches to one final battle. I cannot go with him on this one. Today I play Judas. His daughter is at my side, my daughter smiling with her, another child within me. There are precious few that we can say have stood beside us all this time, and there are good reasons for that. We have all done things of which we should be ashamed. But, today, I am proud. I am the woman who stood by the boy-who-lived until he became the man-who-won, and who stood by the man-who-won until he became the man-who-killed. Today we have lived long enough. Today we end the wizarding war.

Molly let her tears run dry, clutching onto the academic. Pushing away a little, she glanced up at the patient woman, seeing the closed eyes looking down on her. "Was it worth it?"

Hermione stiffened for a second before opening her eyes and staring dimly into the distance. "I'm not the person you should be asking."

~TDD~TDD~TDD~TDD~

Harry stepped in through the archway, wand raised, Susan firmly behind him and the three shields he had silently cast in front of them. There was so much magic in the air it was like porridge, thick and murky and probably the worst compulsory part of winter mornings. Even when it wasn't quite winter and the snow was yet to fall.

"I don't like this."

Susan glanced at the wizard in surprise, noting his terse tone.

"There shouldn't be this much warding." He took another three steps into the courtyard, glancing around. "Nor should there be any of that." It was a strange pile that looked rather like someone had emptied the contents of a muggle construction site onto the grounds of Azkaban. If not for the predisposition of dirt, you could easily have been convinced that Azkaban Prison was now the Azkaban landfill.

Susan stepped forwards to get a closer look, only to find Harry's arm blocking her path forwards."Is that what I think it is?"

"Raw materials for transmutation or transfiguraton, if I had to guess. Standard construction procedure."

"Only on large-scale wor-" Susan stopped when Harry cast a meaningful glance at one of the walls.

"I levelled that wall. Completely. I remember doing it." His eyes, sharpened by the potential danger, grew haunted once more, "It was the final resting place of Lucius Malfoy."

"Why was he here?"

There was a second look of mild disbelief, "I was here to kill the man, not to have a tête-à-tête over a cup of tea and buttered scones. This isn't Alice in fucking Wonderland, where The Hatter and the March Hare sit down t-"

"I get your point." She cut him off before he could throw more references into the conversation. "You weren't here to talk to him."

A flick of his wand highlighted another ward scheme, and another flick of his wand opened a gap in it. "They're using some of the schematics that the Granger Institute used. Didn't even bother to close the loopholes." He held out a hand and pulled her through before closing the ward behind them, leaving it immaculate.

"The loopholes." Susan glanced at him. "One of the best protected locations in Europe has loopholes."

"You don't honestly think I was invited onto the grounds did you?" He shrugged, treading carefully down the path further, stopping to dismiss a few minor charms as they approached the door into the main keep, "They contacted my publishers, my publishers contacted me, I provided some new warding schematics." He paused, glancing up and down at a ward carefully, "If it makes you feel any better, we aren't really going through the wards so much as we cease to exist for the momentary instant at which we would force the wards to break. Think of it as dying, over and over, then being reborn instantly."

"Charming."

"You said you weren't here for the conversation." They stepped through another ward, finally reaching the door. "If it makes you feel any better, the ministry is using some of the same schematics. Nurmengard too. How do you think I got in so easily?"

"It doesn't." Her tone was dry. "How were you planning on getting through the door?"

"I thought we'd start with the simple." He flicked his wand, remembering another incident, many years ago. "Alohorma." There was a stunned silence as the door creaked open, before Harry turned to Susan, "I guess they let Americans do security design these days too."

The interior was dark, the entire internal structure hollowed out into one giant room. The stonework was cold, as it had always been, and the smell of death was no less reduced after decades of non-use. Susan felt a shiver run down her spine, "Creepy."

Flicking his wand idly to one side, Harry threw glowing balls of light out across the dark, dispelling the gloom from the interior. "No worse than it used to be."

Their eyes tracked across the room together, noting the pathways clearly marked on the floor, stone slabs paving roads across the castle, steps leading upwards onto level after level of cages.

"A prison." Susan's voice was flat. "A huge prison."

Harry glanced at her briefly before stepping towards the nearest cage, ward diagnostics flying from the tip of his wand. "I'm not sure that's quite the right word. No privacy, no eating area, no exercise area." He shrugged, "We're wizards, not animals. This reminds me of a battery farm."

"Battery farm?"

"Ask a half-blood, or a muggleborn if you can find any that aren't too scared of their blood status to be honest about it." His wand touched the air in front of the cage gently, but precisely, forcing a little magic through into the ward, causing it to flare, a soft silver shell forming. "Suffice to say that they aren't pleasant."

His steps were quick as he stepped down the aisle, moving to another cage, where he repeated the procedure, and a third and a fourth, his face growing more and more impassive.

"What is it?" Susan stalked along behind him, her wand now in her hand, thoroughly spooked by the increasingly blank face of the man in front of her. A man who had killed hundreds. She shook the thought from her mind, "What are they?"

He paused in mid-step, halfway towards the end of the assembled cages, "How bad is the werewolf problem?"

"Mildlingly bad." She frowned, "How do you know about that?"

"Lupin." He strode towards the far end, Susan's shorter legs forced into a jog to keep up with him as he swept along. "If you had to estimate at the current rogue werewolf population, what kind of figure would it be?"

"Depends on who you listen to." She glanced at the cages alongside them again, "Most people agree it's no more than about two and a half."

"Thousand?"

"Hundred." Susan blanched. "Imagine if there were thousands of them. It'd be chaos."

"I think somebody is imagining exactly that." He tapped the far wall with his wand before throwing up more lights to illuminate the room. "Because every ward on every single one of those cages is designed to trap and control werewolves."

"Why would the ministry do that?" She shook her head, "We have better things to waste our time on."

"Like chasing "Dark Wizards" across the country?" She could hear the quotation marks. "I'm fully aware of what your department does. Which really makes me wonder…" he tailed off hesitantly, before stepping through a small door that Susan had barely noticed.

She stepped closer and glanced inside, noting a large number of crates that Harry was already into up to his elbows. Glancing up he acknowledged her. "Supplies mostly. Chains, shackles." There was a slightly disgusted tone to his voice as he picked up another item and turned it towards her. "Water bowls."

He dropped it, only for Susan to catch it before it re-entered the crate. Turning it back to him she tapped it meaningfully with her wand, "So who, exactly, is Richard Dursley?"

The bowl was seized immediately, examined, then tossed back into her hands before he turned back into the crate and began digging once more.

Five minutes later, he turned to her, his eyes hollow. "I'm afraid to say, Madame Bones, that we may have a rather large problem on our hands."

AN: This chapter marks a turning point within the present of the story. There are no prizes for guessing where the present-time arc is going. This said, I hope that I have managed to close a few pressing questions about the how of the past chapters, whether it be breaking in and out of high security facilities.

Hopefully future chapters will come somewhat quicker. The rest of this fic essentially writes itself. Then I just have to go back through and make the hundred or so edits and changes that this needs. Oh the hazards of writing fanfiction and going off of your designed plotlines...