Disclaimer: The world of Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling.
Magic Break Can't Be Seen
Alexander's journey wasn't long. The Aurors had barely dragged him from the courtroom when the trio twisted, Apparating. Alexander was slammed onto his knees by the journey, the cold and sharp stones underneath unforgiving. A biting cold overcame him even though it was the end of summer. He looked up.
Although he had never been there before, Alexander recognized Azkaban prison. Once belonging to Ekrizdis, a mad wizard who charmed non-magicals to the island to experiment and murder, it now belonged to the Ministry of Magic and functioned as a prison. But even more infamous than it's creator were its wardens, the Dementors.
A few could be seen floating around aimlessly as if they hadn't a care in the world. Alexander was slightly bothered by how few he saw; there had been hundreds surrounding Hogwarts in his third year, here there were only a few dozen. Were they dead? Or simply out hunting?
Regardless of his thoughts, the two Aurors dragged Alexander to the closest Dementor, who began to float closer. They dropped Alexander to the ground before taking hurried steps back as if it would help them escape the pervasive chill the wraith cast.
"...FFFfffooooooooooooddddd...?" a ghostly whisper asked, carried by the wind. Alexander thought it almost sounded like nails on a chalkboard.
"Yeah, eat up, ya bastard," one of the Aurors muttered. Alexander tensed, but he needn't have bothered as the Dementor just floated there, ten meters away, staring at them. When the Aurors began to mutter angrily, Alexander realized the Dementor was staring at him.
Unbidden, the memory of his third year arose in his mind, how at the end of it he threw his magic at a Dementor and called it to him. Was this the same one? He knew how to find out.
Alexander needed no gestures this time. He had grown since his third year. His magic moved from his body and jumped invisibly through the air to the Dementor, causing it to twitch when it hit. He opened his mouth.
"It's dinner time."
The Dementor swooped forward, almost graceful, and passed Alexander by a hairsbreadth. It felt as though ice filled his veins, clawing at his heart, but his magic protected him, warming him. He rose and turned on shaky legs.
Both Aurors were on the ground. One was rigid, the Dementor administrating its infamous Kiss, while the other feebly shot white mist at it. The Dementor dropped its meal before turning to the second Auror, brushing aside the weak mist and claiming its prize. Alexander forced himself to watch as the second man lost his soul.
As horrifying as it is, Dementors are speedy eaters. It dropped the Auror, who lay still and unmoving, and turned to Alexander. "....MMMMooooorrrrreeeeee...?" it asked.
Alexander frowned as he looked at it. Twice he's managed to command the Dementor, although he didn't doubt the prospect of a meal aided him in his continued well being. Which was why his next action was easy.
"Is there anyone else in the prison?" Alexander asked, pointing a hand to Azkaban. The Dementor turned to look at it for a moment before turning back, its putrid breath reaching him from a distance.
"...NNNNooooo ppprrriiisssooonnneeerrrsss..." it hissed. Was that sadness in its voice, or was Alexander assigning it human emotions where there were none?
"But are there guards?" Alexander asked. That seemed to excite the Dementor.
"...MMMaaaannnnyyyy..." It seemed almost gleeful.
Alexander nodded. "Go feast."
It didn't wait a moment longer, turning and racing toward the prison. Somehow the other Dementors knew of Alexander's order as they turned as one and flew toward the monolith, diving through the many windows. Screams soon followed.
As for Alexander, well, he wasn't going to wait around to watch. The Ministry, in their infinite wisdom, hadn't searched him for anything beyond a wand when they arrested him, leaving him his rope belt of portkeys. Maybe they thought it was a fashion statement, or perhaps they were all idiots. Regardless, it worked in Alexander's favor as he touched one rope and spoke the password.
The last thing he saw was hellish flames flickering in one of Azkaban's doorways.
Magic Break Can't Be Seen
Alexander walked through Diagon Alley, glaring at anyone who made eye contact. It was a risk for him to be here, even disguised under layered Glamour Charms, but he needed information. So, despite his aching body, he ventured into the wizarding world.
The alley was hushed, washed of colors, and dark despite the high noon sun. The few shoppers scurried about on their business, clutching their packages fearfully, and avoiding the gaze of the stone-faced Aurors walking down the street. These were not the usual rank and file, each held their wands threateningly and leered at the shoppers. Alexander avoided them.
Dropping a few coins into a boy's hand, Alexander took the proffered newspaper and walked away. He'd read it when he got back to his safe house as wasn't foolish enough to pursue it here, under the watchful gaze of so many hard witches and wizards.
Which didn't mean Alexander escaped the attention of the Aurors. His Glamour Charm drew attention, and unfortunately, it wasn't the good kind. A red-robed figure blocked his path with their wand.
"What's your business in the alley?" the Auror demanded. Alexander brandished the newspaper.
"Paper," he grunted. Alexander never thought he'd say it but thank Merlin for the Cruciatus for making his voice rougher.
The Auror wrinkled his nose. "You have something against owls, then?"
"Had a bad experience with one. It ate my bacon," Alexander explained. The Auror nodded as if that made sense.
"You a Mudblood?" The Auror asked. It was said so casually, so matter of factly that Alexander wondered. He wondered how easily the government had fallen, how easily the Aurors, the law enforcement, folded. Was it simply innate in wizards? To fall in line with the Pure-blood dogma?
Alexander needed to answer the man's question before he became suspicious. Fortunately, he knew how to deal with idiot Pure-bloods. He sneered. "I'm a Smith, boy. Show some respect."
Alexander's skin was of a middle-aged male who did share some passing resemblance to the Smith he went to Hogwarts with. Namely, he looked like a prick.
There was also something satisfying about calling a man older than yourself boy, especially when said man was an Auror who shifted uncomfortably at the rebuke. The Auror gave an awkward bow.
"Of course, sir. Sorry, sir. On your way."
Alexander said nothing as he limped unmolested to the Apparation Point. The other Aurors proved to have more sense than their fellow, ignoring his presence as they kept watch over the alley. Alexander Apparated away in a twisting blur of motion.
His feet hit hardwood a moment later, causing him to stagger before he could restore his balance. He was in a small warehouse, six bunk beds pushed against one wall, while a small kitchen was across from it. In the center of the room was a table and chairs that he gratefully collapsed into.
Alexander's body shook as the Glamours faded, dispelled by his wandless magic. A careless wave of his hand summoned an unopened bottle of water from the pantry that he immediately applied to his forehead. With his free hand, he spread out the newspaper and began to read.
Snape as Headmaster, the abolishment of muggle studies, Death Eaters pardoned for past crimes, the hunt for Potter, was all laid bare. But what made Alexander's blood burn was an article half-way through the paper.
It talked of the burning of Azkaban, Fiendfyre burning so fiercely that the Ministry wizards weren't sure if the prison was still stable. Instead, a new site was created just that morning, the Mudblood Relocation Camp, to house their undesirables. While it wasn't confirmed if the Dementors wouldn't be stationed there, as most were patrolling the country for Undesirables, the Aurors had reached out to various private citizens for wards.
Alexander crumpled the paper angrily in his hands and threw it away. He didn't regret his part in Azkaban's destruction, not one bit. It was a foul beacon, one known all over the world, and generally filled with the worst sorts of criminals. Alexander knew now that since the Ministry was now in the Dark Lord's forces, it would be used for far worse purposes.
Still, Alexander hadn't expected such a quick response from the Ministry on a new prison. Perhaps it was already in the works when Alexander was arrested, he didn't know. But it did mean that he would have to find where it was located.
For Alexander's desires still hadn't changed; he still wanted to save as many Muggle-born and non-magicals as he could. And perhaps, two more.
With a reluctant sigh, Alexander summoned his tablet to him and held it before him. "Daphne Greengrass," he intoned.
The surface swirled before clearing.
Magic Break Can't Be Seen
AN: Some of you seem to be forgetting that Alexander is only 17 years old, or maybe you've read too many stories where the main character is an OP psychopath. He makes mistakes, he's not all knowing, and he's not going to obsess over every single slight. Years of magical training do mean something in this story, Alexander could kill as many as he has because they were surprised, or because he didn't attack them directly/used his surroundings. Most wizards train for an exchange of spells, not a banister being pulled through their chest.
Alexander was outnumbered twenty to one on Platform Nine and Three Quarters. He might have been able to kill three, maybe four Aurors before they would cut him down. The scene was meant to show how Alexander still thinks like a non-magical, by trying to walk out, instead of Apparating out like a wizard would. To be honest, the scene barely matters. I just wanted a semi-reasonable reason for Alexander being arrested so I could explore a possibility of why Azkaban wasn't used to house Muggle-borns. That I could also showcase Umbridge being her usual nasty self was only icing on the cake considering she didn't really do much to him in Year Five.
Dementor Army: Fun idea, but not canon compliant. They're not out of the story yet though.
Why no wizard took away his Portkey: If it isn't obvious by now, Pure-bloods in this story (and canon and fanon), are arrogant. Why would a mere Mudblood have portkeys? They also had him at "wand point", and thus deemed him not a threat. This does mean that Alexander could have theoretically left at any time, but most people, when they have that knowledge, are pretty relaxed about being taken places. Plus he was just cursed repeatedly by Umbridge, he needed a bit to catch his breath, so to speak.
Alexander is still very much driven by revenge. But at this moment, he's intelligent enough to realize he needs to focus on saving other people, before he can settle the score. Eventually he will be able to refocus on his desires and make them a reality, but it will not be during canon. There's a war going on, for crying out loud.
I hope you're all enjoying the story.