Harry listened to the sound of his own heartbeat. He looked back at Snape.
Snape had risen to his feet, his face under tight control. He motioned with his hands downward, and Harry copied his movements which caused him to take the box out of his pocekt
Words appeared on the top: Put this back in your pocket and do not open until late tonight.
Harry fumbled the box back into his trouser's right pocket. Around him, the whole courtroom screamed, and booed, and cheered, the noise moving to an impossible crescendo of energy.
This was the moment, the moment Snape would unleash a plan. Harry braced himself against a corner of his stand as he watched the Ministry exited quickly.
People were spilling out of their seats, challenging each other. A few sparks of magic flew as quarrels broke out, but they only had minutes before the crowd stormed onto the bottom floor. Already Harry had lost sight of Snape and Narcissa as the wizards on the lower seats were trying to move out of the way to the surging crowd above. He caught sight of Mr. Weasley shouting to Ron.
"Here," a guard appeared in front of Harry. "Take this."
He was holding a tray where a closed golden scroll rested on blue velvet cloth.
Harry reached for it. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a guard in front of Draco with a similar tray and object. But the moment Harry's fingers touched the object, he felt a sharp jerk.
It was a Portkey.
He felt himself falling, but he positioned himself with his feet down. He landed on a hard floor that swayed beneath. It took a second to right himself, and by the time he gained his balance, Ron, Hermione, and Draco appeared.
"Where are we?" Harry glanced around.
They were in a spacious room with a few slits for windows on opposite walls. Ron went and looked out.
"We're on water," he reported.
"We're on the prisoner boat to Azkaban," Draco said, his face frozen.
Hermione sunk down to the floor and sat there, hiding her trembling hands under her knees.
"No, no," Harry stumbled around, feeling the walls. "This isn't happening. Snape has a plan. He has a plan. We aren't going to prison. This is an escape boat."
"This is a double cabin boat," Draco said. "One side is for prisoner, the other side is for passengers. They look the same . . . but the passenger side has seats."
Harry reached for the box in his pocket, but he hesitated. Surely, Snape didn't mean for him to go to prison. Surely Sn ape didn't know that those scrolls were Porkeys or he would have told Harry not to touch it.
"That can't be how the trials end," Harry said, still touching the walls. "We have to have a chance to protest. I'm supposed to be a witness for Snape's case. They can't just send us to Azkaban like that."
"They can," Ron said. "Dad told me this was a possibility. He said with high-profile trials they found it easier to just get the prisoners out."
He sat down beside Hermione and took one of her hands. He tried to rub it between his own warm hands, but Hermione gently pulled away. She gave him a painful look and scooted a space back. Ron's expression, under his scar, was devastated.
"It can't end like this," Draco shook his head. "Five years, ten years, fifteen years . . . we saved our world! We sacrificed. I had more to say, we all did. The Ministry has played rotten before, but this is unbelievable!"
"It's fine, it's fine," Harry forced himself to take a deep breath. "Snape has a plan. He asked me to trust him. I do trust him. I trust Narcissa. I trust Ron's parents, and I trust those on our side. We have to trust them. It's not over, it can't be over."
No answer came, the only sound the splashing of water against the travelling boat.
"Hermione," Harry turned to her, "you believe me?"
She raised her head, tears shining in her eyes, but she managed a weak smile. "Of course. I trust all of you."
"I don't trust the Wizarding World," Ron ran a hand through his hair in distress. "We're all cowards. We're weak and miserable, hiding our problems and pretending they don't exist. One evil power dies and another takes it place."
"We can't give up," Draco said. "I've been to Azkaban to visit my father. It sucks the life out of you. We have to rally our hopes before we get there. We have to have a plan to save ourselves while we wait for Snape's and Mother's plan to save us."
"How do we do that?" Harry asked. "Hermione, how long can wizards survive in there and still be normal and sane?"
She blinked, suddenly unnerved. "I – I don't know."
"You didn't read about it before the trial? You read everything."
"I didn't," she seemed to shrink on the floor.
"Leave off her," Ron snapped. He tried to reach for her again, but she shied away, refusing to look at him.
The motion of boat slowed and a cold feeling of despair settled on Harry.
"Dementors," Draco straightened up. "We must be getting close."
"Harry?" Hermione looked up at him. "Are you going to be alright?"
"I'm fine. I have a Patronus if I need to . . ." he trailed off, realizing he had no wand. But his magic had been strong and pulsing though he hadn't had his wand since going to St. Mungo's.
A howling sound roared against the window. Immediately, they were all huddled together. Hermione had stood up and grabbed Harry's hand as they watched a Dementor swarm by the narrow window.
"They can't get us," Draco said, his breath coming out in a misty cloud. "They aren't allowed to Kiss us. They're under the Ministry's order again."
Ron said nothing, but his eyes were intense as he stared at Hermione's hand in Harry's.
"Sorry," Hermione apologized as she pulled her hand free. "I'm just – distraught."
She unraveled the shawl around her shoulders and looped it over her head, covered her bushy hair and shadowing her face except for her trembling lips.
One of the walls melted away, and a stone tunnel loomed ahead. A man in gray clothes stood there with a lantern.
"Welcome to Azkaban," the man smiled, showing a mouthful of crooked teeth.
They all stood there, crowded together.
"I'm Finburg," the man went on. "Sentenced to twenty years in Azkaban for the assisted murder of several Muggles. I gave information on my accomplices and for that I got to spend my time running Azkaban."
"Oh," Draco said. To Harry, that seemed like the most logical reply.
"I received notice that you would be coming. We don't usually have such young wizards. I have a suite with four adjoining cells to keep you all together and cozy. Let's see. We have a Mr. Malfoy," he leered at Draco. "Your father is on a lower level. I may have to arrange a family reunion."
"I don't want to see my father," Draco said.
"A Mr. Weasley and a Miss Granger," Finburg's eyes glanced over Ron and Hermione. Ron glared back, but Hermione ducked her head. "Lovely – so young and innocent. And lastly Mr. Potter."
Harry straightened and met the man's gaze.
"I know you quite well," Finburg sneered. "Your parents died bringing down the Dark Lord fifteen years ago. Had he succeeded, I wouldn't be here. I was tried and sentenced about the same time you disappeared from the Wizarding World, just a tiny baby. You grew up in the outside world, and I've been here. I look forward to breaking you, Chosen One."
"I won't be here long," Harry replied through frozen lips.
"Ha," Finburg turned partially. "All of you move."
They stood still.
Finburg shrugged. "In a few seconds, the boat will pull away, and the Dementors get to ravage whoever is left inside."
They all started forward.
The stone tunnel moved upwards slowly and as they walked, Finburg started to explain the rules. "This prison is guarded by Dementors. Their presence and the charms of the fortress block all magic. Visitors may come once a week. I decide what gifts or care packages prisoners get to keep." He gave Harry an evil grin, but Harry ignored him.
"Do we get to leave our cells?" Ron asked.
"Once a day for exercise, unless I decide otherwise. We rotate kitchen duty. Prisoners get fed twice day. Showers every third day. Change of clothes every week. We rotate laundry too. All this depends on behavior. Solitary is always an option for unruly prisoners."
They walked through a large doorframe and Harry found himself in a space as tall and big as the Grand Staircase at Hogwarts. Only this one was a demented version of it: gray stone stairs wound up leading to black hallways that disappeared, looking like screaming mouths of despair. Torches of bare flames were scattered up the walls, their fire dancing as Dementors floated back and forth high above.
A few rushed down and floated above them, their black open hoods looming over their tight group. Hermione made a whimpering sound.
Harry stared up at them, waiting to see if he would faint or hear sounds of his mother dying. Instead, he felt only numbness . . . and a small desire to bash his head against the rock wall until he felt something.
"Stay back," Finburg raised the lantern and surprisingly the Dementors inched back. He glanced at the group. "That's right. I can control the Dementors. If you don't follow all the rules, I'll set them on you faster that you can blink. Up the stairs."
They began climbing the stairs, trudging so slowly that it felt like they were barely moving. Everyone's breathing was deep and labored as if they had been climbing a steep mountain for hours. The air didn't feel any different, but activity took so much energy that they couldn't even talk.
Finally, Finburg turned off the stairs and went down a winding hallway. He stopped at a wooden door and shoved it open.
Inside was the size of an average Hogwart's classroom. But floor-to-ceiling bars ran down each side of the doorway, and Harry saw as they walked in that the bars made another walk space in the center, this one horizontal, turning the walk-space into a cross-like shape with four barred cells, each one in a different corner of the room. They would able to see and talk to each other, but the space was wide enough that they wouldn't be able to reach out and touch hands.
Each barred cell had a door. Ron went into the cell directly to the right of the door. Draco went into one directly to the left. Hermione went to the one beyond and on the same side as Ron, and Harry took the last cell, the one in the far left corner.
Each cell had a narrow bed against the wall, a basin and faucet, and a toilet hidden behind two slanted stone walls.
Harry walked inside and turned back to watch Finburg slam the barred door and lock it.
"Food will appear in your cells later," Finburg announced. "It's the one of the piece of magic that works here. It will be on a tray. When you're done, put your cup on your plate and it'll disappear. If you find glass or metal or teeth in your food, report it. Sometimes prisoners try to kill other prisoners. But you," he looked at Harry, "you look like a strong boy. You can go a few days without food, I warrant."
"That's not fair," Draco was leaning against the bars of his own cell in protest. "You can't starve us."
"Feel free to make a complaint," Finburg said. "Feel free to write a letter to the Ministry - I collect letters every other day."
"Do you do all the work?" Ron asked.
"There are a few supporting caretakers. They are all serving life sentences."
"Well," Ron looked at Hermione, "at least it's not House Elves."
She didn't reply; her eyes were fastened on Harry, watching his every movement.
"Enjoy," Finburg smirked. He went out and closed the door behind him.
Harry looked around in disbelief. He was in a cell. He had been locked in Azkaban. Where was Snape? Why hadn't he broken down the walls yet and stormed the prison?
Harry took the box out of his pocket and read the top again. It was still light outside. He could wait. The mood of the cell made him want to lie down and never wake up, but he could hold on a little longer. The plan Snape had – it was worth waiting for.
He thought about that day months ago in Snape's quarters, when he had lied for Worty, and then when he told the truth and swore he was loyal to Snape. That was true then and it was still true now. He wondered what had happened to Worty, where the little boy ended up.
"I just wanted to say," Hermione was against the bars, partially facing Ron and Harry, "I'm so sorry. I had to, you have to understand." She pulled back her shawl and tossed it on her cot behind her.
"Had to what?" Ron was against his bars, barely able to keep his hand from reaching for her even though she was out of reach. "'Mione, look at me. Is this about not running away? I'm sorry. If I had to do it over again, I would run with you. I would."
Hermione smiled at him, a sad smile. "She knows that."
"What . . ." Ron trailed off. A second more, and then he screamed, "No!"
Hermione had shrunk slightly. Freckles appeared on her face, and her bushy brown hair was growing sleek and shorter and redder.
"No!" Ron slammed against the bars. "No, no, don't – oh, please, on everything that's holy, please, no!"
Tears ran down her face, but she had already turned into Ginny Weasley.
"Ron," she tried, but Ron made a noise, a noise like a wounded animal in agony.
Harry watched in numb shock as Ron fell to the ground and wailed in pain. Harry couldn't remember ever having seen Ron cry. His eyes had watered occasionally over a Quidditch injury and he had been distraught when the snake had bit his father, but those moments were nothing compared to the tears that streamed down his face now as he realized that he was no longer with the love of his life.
"No, we were supposed to be together," Ron cried. "I love her – I can't live five years without her. You can't do this to me – you can't torture me this way. You can't take her from me."
"Ron, please," Ginny moved down the bars, as close to him as she could. "This was planned. We got Hermione to agree. She's smarter than me, and she's worth more free than I am. Snape planned this – I switched places with her this morning and she went to hide at Snapdragon Manor."
Ron made another wounded sound that strangled in his throat.
"You didn't let me come on your mission," Ginny said in a low voice. "You left me at Hogwarts, but this my time to act for the good of our world."
"Snape planned this?" Harry found his voice. "He knew we would go to prison?"
"Yes, he thought so. If you had been freed, I'd have switched back, but he thought you would be sentenced this way.
"What's his plan? What is he using Hermione for?" it was Harry's turn to press against the bars.
"I don't know. I was asked if I would be willing to sacrifice and I was."
"But why you?" Harry asked. "Why not send Narcissa or McGonagall?"
"Because," Ginny looked away, her cheeks reddening, "Snape thought I would be better at . . . taking care of you."
Harry stepped back, trying to understand.
"What?" Ron roared. "It's always about him! We sacrificed and sacrificed – listen to me, Ginny!" He scrambled to his feet and slammed against the bars like a rabid animal. "I'm never forgiving you for this. You and that bastard have ripped out my heart and crushed it into dust. I loved her. We were supposed to be together forever."
In far corner, Draco sat still on his cot, his one eye staring fixedly ahead.
"She didn't want this, Ron," Ginny tried to explain. "We had to convince her, beg her to agree. She finally agreed to and Snape gave us each the Polyjuice Potion which I've been sipping all day. Now that I'm here and Finburg didn't get a good look at me – well, she's free to work on our behalf."
Ron finally crawled to a far corner and hid from them though he couldn't quite silence the sound of his despair.
"Snape wasn't serious," Harry said to Ginny in a low voice. "About the taking care of me. I mean, he's planned something to break us free. He needs Hermione because he has a plan."
"Maybe. They didn't tell me anything past getting here undetected."
Harry nodded. He wanted to comfort Ron, to assure him everything would be all right and he would soon be with Hermione, but Harry also knew he had to follow directions and wait.
The afternoon crawled by and as twilight approached in the early evening, trays of food appeared in every cell but Harry's.
"Here," Ginny rolled an apple between their cells, "eat this."
Ron walked over to the food and dragged it back out of sight. Draco ate quietly. The feel of the Dementors was still heavy, but they all forced themselves to chew and swallow.
Their cell room got dark and then a single lantern appeared in the floor, giving them enough light to still see.
Harry watched the light disappear from the window. How late was "late" at night?
Finally, he felt he could wait no longer.
He took the box and held. Time for Snape to launch into action.
He opened the box.
Inside was a folded paper. Underneath it was the pocketwatch that Snape had given him for his birthday.
Harry took out the watch, feeling it tick in his hand. He unfolded the note.
Dear Harry,
If you are reading this, my fears were realized and you went to Azkaban. I'm sorry I couldn't keep you out.
Prison will be difficult, but I've sent someone to watch over you. Do not despair. Just take every day one at a time.
Your Father,
Severus Snape
Harry read the letter again and then a third time.
He turned the letter over. Nothing on the back.
He picked up the box. It was flimsy paper-board, and he ripped it in to tiny pieces, searching for anything. A spell, a secret code, a sign, anything to tell him what the plan was.
He took the watch and opened it. The same message – To Harry Potter on His Sixteenth Birthday- was still there.
There was nothing. A note and a watch. Snape had sent him to prison with a note and a watch. No mention of plan, no upcoming breakout, nothing to keep him from insanity and desolation.
Outside a Dementor flew by.
Ron made the animal sound again.
A moment later, Harry realized that scream of agony had come from him, a howl of rage and misery that ripped from his chest. The bars shook with force of his emotion, and immediately Ginny was calling to him, but Harry wasn't listening.
He took the watch and he smashed it against the rock once, and then again, and again.
The brass broke, several bits falling, but part of the loop to hold the chain split and cut the side of his hand. He watched metal and blood mark the stone, but he was beyond reasoning now.
He heard voices calling to him, but each time he struck the wall, he imagined that he was beating out those last vestiges of what was left in him, that last bit that made him human.
One way or another, he would stop feeling.
Outside, several Dementors came to the window and swirled in the darkness that had covered Azkaban prison. The only sound out there was the noise of the wind and the water crashing against the rocks, both moving at a frenzied pace as if they wished they could topple the prison over and bury it in the sea.
The End