Taking Charge
A Harry Potter Fanfiction
by Drauchenfyre
Chapter 25: The Great(?) Escape
23 April 1992
Azkaban Island
Sometime After Sunset
Rabastan LeStrange sat in his cell, leaning against the bars of his door, sharpening a shard of wood he'd pried off the underside of his bed. Meeting his niece had re-invigorated him: he was going to do some good before he shuffled off this mortal coil. The Dark Mark was at full strength on his arm, which meant only one thing-
The Dark Lord had returned to corporeal form.
Many people overlooked the younger LeStrange brother, not realizing he was probably one of the most intelligent Death Eaters in the lot. But then, he had received more than one pounding for being Sorted Ravenclaw instead of Slytherin like his brother. So, he had picked up a Slytherin talent of hiding his true capabilities. He had known that Tom Riddle was slipping into madness even before he declared himself Lord Voldemort- would have left, too, if his brother hadn't caught him and forced him back. Now, Rodolphus was gone.
Rabastan smiled at that. A simple piece of wire was all that was needed to pick the locks on the cell doors- and strangling his brother and stringing him up had gone perfectly smoothly. Because of his timing, the guards didn't even question his 'suicide'- simply assumed it was in grief for his recently-departed wife.
They'd throw a wobbly if they knew how easily Rabastan LeStrange could slip in and out of cells.
Now, he was preparing a final act against the Dark Lord. Rabastan knew that sooner or later Lord Snake-faced Bastard would be here to break out his 'faithful' and add them to his army.
Rabastan LeStrange planned for him to find that the cupboard was bare.
Suddenly, movement caught his eye across the hall, in the cell of Augustus Rookwood. A shadowy figure, clad in form-fitting black from head to toe (and therefore obviously female), stooped over Augustus in his 'bed' and dropped a few clear drops of something in his mouth. Augustus shuddered, sighed- and died.
Poison. Rabastan had just witnessed an assassination.
A muffled boom came from down the hall. The shadowed figure looked up, right into Rabastan's eye. He held a finger to his mouth, indicating quiet, then pointed in the direction of the blast. The figure nodded, stepped to the cell wall farthest from the blast-
and then through it.
Huh. Rabastan thought. He'd read descriptions of this effect before. Guess the Bolsheviks didn't get ALL the Romanovs after all.
A blast, louder this time, hit the far gate at the end of the hall.
And he was there.
Voldemort.
Rabastan had run out of time.
Surrounded by Dementors, Tom Marvolo Riddle marched down the hall, using his (latest) wand to rip cell doors away, freeing his 'faithful'. Rabastan, not wanting his true allegiance discovered yet, scrambled to hide his wooden stake, and waiting for his moment.
Looking around, Rabastan realized that, except for him, these were Voldemort's faithful. Antonin Dolohov. St John Mulciber. Thorfinn Rowle. Amycus Carrow. Alecto Carrow. Simon Trent. The true Inner Circle. Riddle, of course, couldn't just leave with his freed minions. No, he had to monologue. After a few minutes of pontificating his own greatness, Riddle led them towards the boats-
-and Rabastan struck.
He quickly drove his crude stake through Mulciber's back, piercing his heart. Before anyone could react, his wand, taken from the Kissed corpse of an Azkaban guard, flashed twice, piercing hexes sending Amycus and Trent to the ground, bleeding to death. Riddle screamed, "Traitor! Kill him!", and the Dementors swooped down upon him. Feeling himself grabbed by the nearest, as his maniacally-thrusting wand-hand plunged into its stomach, he felt his soul beginning to slide from his body into the fell beast's maw. In desperation, he summoned his only cheerful thought-
Hermione.
His niece.
A girl who had grown up into a truly good and caring person, in the care of her adoptive Muggle parents.
She who would make their House something decent and good.
"Expecto- Patronum."
The Dementor stopped. Rabastan, his soul half-in and half-out of his body, was in heavy pain. The creature's midsection began to glow, bulge-
-and the fell demon shrieked in pain.
This was all the warning Riddle had to grab Dolohov, Rowle and Alecto and Portkey away-
-before the eastern half of Azkaban Prison was engulfed in a pure white explosion.
Somewhere in Northern Scotland's Moors
Just before Midnight, Same Day
Riddle and his three surviving escapee Death Eaters were recovering from a Portkey that had been ripped sideways out of their trip through the ether. They were supposed to end up in a hidden cave in the Hebrides, but hadn't even gotten halfway there. The explosion of the Dementor had ripped through both the physical and spiritual realms, causing all kinds of havoc. Riddle was the only one of the escapees whose magic was acting anywhere close to normal. None of the Dementors had come with them. Riddle didn't know if they had abandoned them, or were dead, or some other reason.
Riddle was suddenly yanked out of his musings by the shriek of Alecto Carrow, curling in pain. This was quickly echoed by Rowle and Dolohov. Throwing a quick scan, Riddle's blood ran cold-
- an exploding hex. Tied to the Azkaban wards. His people were about to die.
Riddle leapt over by Dolohov, the closest. His wand flashing quickly, he tried desperately to remove the hex before the point of no return. He vaguely heard first Alecto, then Rowle, as they exploded with dull whumps. Finally, he tore the curse free from Dolohov, and the Mad Russian collapsed into unconsciousness, but still alive.
Riddle quickly joined him, exhausted, sleeping in the grasses of the moor.