The Imposter Complex, Chapter Thirty Seven: The Sack of Azkaban.

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Minerva's mindscape vanished in an instant, and I was back in her cell, blinking up at Snape. Dumbledore was already sweeping to his feet.

'When?' he barked, all business.

'Minutes ago.' Snape said swiftly. 'Shacklebolt sent a patronus, the Ministry are mobilising reinforcements - the Dark Lord has come in force.

Dumbledore grasped him and I tightly by the shoulder and apparated, yanking us across space into the main hall of the Order Headquarters. Lupin yelped again, narrowly avoiding dropping his book in his stew again.

'My deepest apologies, but we have little time to waste. Severus, you must remain here, gather together the Order, but keep them in reserve, in the event that Voldemort is bluffing us. Remus, you are to assist him. Send me a Patronus if there is another attack. I shall do the same if we need reinforcements.

Dumbledore's tone was brisk and authoritative, giving no option for discussion. Remus looked confused, but didn't interrupt. Snape, however, scowled.

'Headmaster, no word of this attack was told to me. The Dark Lord had told me it would be weeks before he would be ready. If he has been keeping such information from me...'

'Your cover might be blown.' I finished for him. On the plus side, it made it less likely to be a feint.

That gave Dumbledore a moment's pause. He shook his head.

'This must be a matter for later discussion. For now, we shall keep you off the field, Severus. Tom, you are with me. We're going straight to Azkaban. We cannot allow Lord Voldemort to recover Rookwood.'

I began a nod, then stopped. 'Wait. I can't cast a Patronus.'

Dumbledore's brow furrowed deeper. 'I will cast one for you. It will have to do. Now is not the hour for hesitation, Tom.'

My expression twisted. If we got separated and Dumbledore lost focus, I would have little defence against an errant Dementor beyond hiding in my ring. Could they tear a soul out of an inanimate Horcrux?

I shook the question from my mind before it could paralyse me entirely. Not so easily as I once did. But Dumbledore was right, this was no time for hesitation. I nodded stoutly. 'I'm with you.'

Dumbledore brought his wand down on one of the silver plates on the dinner table, and it glowed blue. He and I reached for it as one, and the world dissolved in in a flurry of wind and light...

:—:

We slammed down feet-first onto cold unforgiving stone. The air was frigid, and storm winds were already howling in my ear. Rain pelted us viciously, until a murmured word warded it away.

I looked around me. We were on Azkaban's dock, a long granite retrofit to the ancient keep, and the only part of it that Ministry officials could reach through portkey. It lay right on the edge of the impenetrable, keyless teleportation wards that wrapped around the island like a hard shell. At its end lay an archway into Azkaban proper, shrouded in shadow.

Azkaban was less an island citadel than it was one big crag, a blunt spike of black unknowable stone that stretched up and up and up. In this storm, it was impossible to tell what was castle, and what was land. I had seen pictures, of course, sketches and artist's impressions, but nothing could prepare me for the reality. Nor for the swarm of Dementors that flew far above it in a great circle, so thick as to be a cloud of horror made flesh.

Dumbledore strode forward swiftly, and I broke from my momentary fixation to hurry after him. There were lights flickering across Azkaban's mass, I could see now. Death Eaters warring with the Aurors.

'Expecto Patronum!' Dumbledore incanted beside me, and a pair of silver phoenixes sprang forth from his wand, hovering above each of us. Mercifully, they did not sing.

'The Dementors!' I exclaimed. 'Why aren't they defending the citadel?'

Dumbledore snarled. 'I suspect they are trying to decide whether to pledge themselves to a master who will feed them better.'

I swore, my attempt to clean up my language forgotten entirely. 'Fucking non-beings! What's the plan of attack?'

Dumbledore threw me a look as we reached the end of the pier. 'We need to get to Rookwood, make sure he's-'

His wand lashed out before him, slapping away a vicious-looking curse. A pair of masked Death Eaters ran forward out of the gloom.

Dumbledore and I moved almost as one. He caught the one on the left in the with a wispy white spell, whilst I opened the stone below the one on the right, sending him plunging into the arctic sea without a trace. Dumbledore's opponent twisted and shrank, transforming into a very surprised looking potted plant.

We didn't stick around to bask in our victory, hurrying up the stone steps before we lost any more time. It was not lost on me how easily I had needlessly killed again, the deed done before I'd even thought about it. This ethical shit was going to be harder than I thought.

I had no idea what the layout of the place was - no such records existed outside of the citadel itself. I was forced to follow behind Dumbledore, as we duelled our way through spiral stairways and desolate corridors, all made of that same oily black stone. It was wet enough on the floor to be slippery, especially wherever there were windows, but a couple of charms were enough to deal with that. Blue-flamed torches were placed every few metres, though they did little to disperse the dimness, and the light they did cast made us look pale, and sickly.

Even with Patronuses, Azkaban carried the awful presence of the Dementors, baked into every black brick, alloyed into every metal bar. We passed cell after cell, but the prisoners did not whoop and holler at the battle. They just sat in their cells, staring blankly. I shuddered at the sight. We encountered Aurors and human Azkaban Guards along our way - both alive and dead. We didn't stop to chat to those that lived, but they were clearly overjoyed to see the Headmaster. We saved more than a few of them too.

The design of the castle had seemed random at first, but I began to recognise patterns in its design. Every fourth floor had broad windows of ten feet or more, which I knew still look narrow slits on the outside. Every sixth floor was a circular maze of the same design, despite being in a rectangular building. Every seventh floor was the simplest design by far. Each had a broad corridor on the outer edge facing the pier, with smaller corridors thrust through the rest of its wide, lined with cells. The other floors probably had patterns too, but I was in too much of a hurry to examine.

It did not take long to figure out where Lord Voldemort was. All you had to do was look out the window, and wait for snapshots caught by flashes of lightning. The Dark Lord sailed across the sky with naught but air to buoy him, a lazy circle around the mid-point of the tower's height. Whatever magic he was using was clearly unaffected by the spells that kept Azkaban safe from broom riders. A chill shuddered through me that had nothing to do with the storm, nor the Dementors overhead.

Occasionally, someone would throw potshots at him from a window, but he was far too distant to not lazily dip out of the way. A blessing in disguise; he was also too far away to spot us through Azkaban's narrow window slits. But what the hell was he doing out there and not fighting? He hadn't brought enough men, he'd never take Azkaban like this...

We rounded a corner on the nineteenth floor, and Dumbledore threw up a golden dome just in time to catch a blast of fiendfyre. It roiled and roared against the shield, but could not break through. I brought my wand to bear, forcing my own will into the fray.

Wresting ownership of the infernal flame was the easy part - the wizard on the other end was weak, barely able to control it himself. But dominating fyre that had already begun to rage out of control had me gritting my teeth at the effort. It would be so easy to push it back, to let it wash over my foes and render them ash.

I closed my eyes. Not this time. The flames vanished as I bid, as if they had never been. The black stone, I noticed, was untouched.

The band of idiots at the other end of the hall were non-lethally swept aside as easily as the others, and we moved on. There was a sense of invulnerability here, as Dumbledore and I strode across Azkaban. Fighting alongside an equal like this was not something I had ever experienced. It felt good.

'We are getting close.' Dumbledore muttered, slightly out of breath as we clambered up the stairs to the thirty fifth floor. The old man was holding up very well, all things considered. As expected, a broad corridor awaited. 'His cell is around this last bend here.'

I rounded the corner ahead of Dumbledore, and immediately caught a shouted bludgeoner on my shield. I ducked hastily behind the corner again, but I knew that voice.

'Peace! Same team!' I called out in.

'Tom? Dumbledore!'

We stepped out. It was Tonks, a jackrabbit patronus prancing about her head, and that auror Sirius hated, Williamson. A silver ram idled next to him. The devastated remains of another auror and half a dozen Death Eaters lay strewn across the corridor.

She heaved a sigh of relief. 'Praise Merlin you've come. We're in a bad way, sir. Berrycloth's dead, and they hit Williamson with some kind of tongue-twisting curse I don't know how to beat. I don't know how many other teams are left.'

Williamson opened his mouth very stiffly. His tongue had indeed been forced into an agonising-looking knot.

I stepped up to assist him, taking his jaw in my hand, and murmuring incantations under my breath. I bent an ear to Dumbledore and Tonk's conversation as I worked.

'Were you stationed on this floor before the attack began?'

'No Professor. We were patrolling the minimum security wing, but we made for the highest security cells as soon as spells started flying. Came across this lot when we arrived.'

'How did the attack begin.'

'Well it was a nice evening at first. At least, nice as Azkaban can ever get. But then they just started dropping out of the sky! I've never seen anything like it. They weren't on brooms, they were flying on some sort of big triangle thingy, a bunch of them, like great big birds.'

I looked up sharply from my work. 'Hang gliders? The Death Eaters were using hang gliders?'

Tonks looked confused. 'Oh, I've heard of them! But aren't they a muggle thing?'

'They are...' Dumbledore murmured, meeting my gaze. He didn't need to say what we were all thinking. What the bloody hell were Death Eaters doing using muggle inventions?

Tonks continued her tale, looking disturbed. 'Well they went right through the wards, and as soon as they landed this storm started up, so I assume that's them too.'

'Do you know what Lord Voldemort is doing?' Dumbledore asked urgently.

Tonks shook her head grimly. 'No. He's just flying around doing nothing. He was taking potshots at us through the windows earlier, but he stopped after a bit. Berrycloth had reckoned he was talking with the Dementors, but I dunno about that. I think he's keeping the storm going.'

With a sucking noise, Williamson's tongue came undone, and he let out a low moan of relief. I turned away from him, and peered out of one of the citadel's tall, slender window slits. At first, I tried to spot Lord Voldemort, but then something else caught my eye.

Far below, I could see the pier we'd arrived on. People were portkeying in, over two dozen of them, each and all of them wearing the cherry robes of DMLE hit-wizards. I recognised the man leading them as an Auror. The Ministry's reinforcements had finally arrived, in force.

Dumbledore's hand found my shoulder. 'Come along Tom, our work is not yet done.'

I held up an arm to stop him. 'Wait. Something's not right.'

Williamson snorted roughly, apparently not the grateful sort. 'What was your first bloody clue.'

'Shut up, Williamson.' Tonks and I said in unison, and I blinked at that. But my attention was swiftly drawn back to the pier below. I'd been right.

Lord Voldemort was finally taking action. He was swooping them, pelting them with curses even as they volleyed their own back up at him. But their hexes could hardly match the Dark Lord's for all their numbers, and they made hastily for the cover of the castle. One man fell, his corpse falling apart into chunks, and they hastened even further.

I realised what was going to happen moments before it did. Once there were no more aurors to shield themselves from his spells, Lord Voldemort sent the entire pier exploding upward, blasting fragmented granite over the stragglers.

Dumbledore took a sharp breath. Without the pier, and with the skies already afrenzy, the only way out of here was swimming to the ward line. In an arctic sea warded immune to magic. In one fell stroke, Lord Voldemort had turned this into a battle to the death for everyone but himself.

'A trap after all.' I hissed. I gazed balefully out at my other self, the smug bastard. I expected him to finally give chase into Azkaban, but he stayed where he was, just grinning. What the hell was he playing at?

'Trap or otherwise, we must attend to Rookwood, Tom.' Dumbledore said urgently.

I nodded stoutly. Every other Death Eater Lord Voldemort could set free was a problem, but none so damning as him. 'Right. Which cell is it?'

Dumbledore strode to the cell at the very end of the corridor, furthest away from the torch bracket by the window. Of course.

I glanced into the other cells as I passed. I recognised the men and women inside, emaciated and wretched as they had become. Antonin Dolohov. Zephyrus Snyde. Bellatrix Lestrange and Andy's boys. A good chunk of Lord Voldemort's inner circle, once upon a time.

Azkaban's cell gates were made of solid adamantine bars, and enchanted beyond what most wizards could hope to unravel. It stymied Dumbledore for all of twelve seconds.

The gate swung open, and I followed the Headmaster in. Like all Azkaban cells, it was nigh devoid of decor or furniture, though this did not even have the threadbare sleeping mats that the others did. Instead, a sarcophagus of thick, dark grey metal sat in the centre of the small chamber, wrapped in dimly glowing runes.

Dumbledore leant over the sarcophagus, and slid open a small grate where the head should be. He let out a sign of relief, and straightened.

'He is still there.'

I peered down into the sarcophagus, where Rookwood lay like a corpse. The Draught of the Living Death would not wear off until the antidote was applied. He looked... a bit like Snape, actually. A relative perhaps? The hair was grey and curly, but just as greasy, the skin just as sallow, the nose just as hooked. He had a limp little goatee that didn't suit his face. He certainly didn't look like a master mind mage.

'Now we just have to keep him that way.' I said brightly. 'What's the go?'

'We hold here.' Dumbledore said authoritatively. 'Whatever Lord Voldemort is planning, he will not want to fight us both directly.'

I was less confident of that, no matter how powerful fighting alongside him had felt. I felt a buzzing at the back of my mind. Not the Vow, something else. Like a swarm of angry bees. I met Dumbledore's gaze, and could tell he felt it too. What the hell was... oh. Oh fuck.

I sprinted back to the window, the buzzing growing ever louder, already bordering on painful. I could see them now, rising swiftly out of the inky black ocean, three hundred or more demons of shadow and malice, anti-light dripping from every seam, a sagacious smile on every ceramic face. With every head that broke the surface, the pressure in my mind intensified.

I tried to swallow, but my throat had gone dry. I whipped around, aghast.

'The... the Terracotta Army. They're here.'

Dumbledore looked like he was going to be sick. Tonks wasn't far behind.

'The WHAT?!' Williamson barked, eyes like saucers. He looked down over my shoulder. 'Oh fuck, oh FUCK ME!'

That's why Lord Voldemort wasn't attacking. This wasn't just a prison break, it was a test run.

'We need to leave. Now. Get to the roof and make some hang gliders of our own, take the, out to sea.' I said, my tone brooking no argument.

Dumbledore, being Dumbledore, argued anyway. 'Tom, we cannot abandon this fortress. We cannot allow Voldemort to reclaim Rookwood and the rest of his inner circle.'

I swallowed, not wanting to voice the solution that sprung to my mind in a heartbeat. Executing unarmed prisoners out of convenience wasn't exactly redemption path material.

'If we stay here, we are dead. Dead.' I said flatly. 'Then Lord Voldemort will take them anyway.

Tonks stuttered. 'B-but the hit-wizards! Proudfoot! They're still down there! They could fight them off!'

'No. If they aren't dead already, they soon will be. Those things can eat all the spells you can think of and keep swinging.'

The despair on her face made me turn away. I reached into my coat, and pulled out one of my augmented handguns. It cocked itself with a click-click. I'd been carrying three of them with me at all times since hearing that the Army had abandoned Xi'an, but I didn't dare hand them out to these totally untrained companions. My own skill would have to suffice.

I should have taught the Order and the Aurors how to use them back when I had the chance. Stupid, stupid, I should have known better.

'Could we transfigure this lot into tea cosies or something?' I suggested desperately. Dumbledore shook his head woefully.

'Alas, tighter security measures were put in place after our friend Sirius' escape. Highest security prisoners can no longer be transfigured, levitated, or otherwise enhanced by magic within these wards.'

Williamson was willing to say what I couldn't. 'If we can't take them with us safely, then we should kill them and go. They all deserve it anyway. Better them than us.'

Dumbledore raised his chin. 'No. I'll have no part in it. They are prisoners.'

Williamson sneered. 'You don't have to bloody your fancy sleeves, Chief Warlock. I'll do it myself.'

But he made no motion to push past Dumbledore. He might have been brave enough for insolence, but he wouldn't act without a say-so. But nobody stood in my path.

I cast my gaze across the prisoners, and found myself locking eyes with Bellatrix LeStrange. The madness I saw was expected. I wasn't expecting the cold, shrewd, malevolent intelligence that still lingered in that flat stare. This wasn't a human being any more. This was a predator and little else. Taking this woman, taking any of them of their cells, even stunned unconscious, was out of the question. Perhaps Williamson and ruthless pragmatism had the right of it this time.

Damn it all. Deliberating was taking too much time. The Army must be storming up the stairs as we speak. I could feel their presence growing stronger still, a painful spike forming in the back of my mind. It would not be long before they were upon us. My gun could slow them, but there was not a thing on this island that could stop the soldiers properly. All we could do was flee.

My hand twitched in Bellatrix's direction. It wasn't a question of if they deserved it. It was a question of how committed I was going to be to this quest of mine. What was more ethical? Executing an unarmed prisoner, or sparing them knowing they would go on to terrorise countless innocents?

Surely the math was clear? Just how blindly idealistic was I going to force myself to be just to be a good person? I raised my wand. LeStrange's nostrils flared angrily. Defiant to the last.

'Tom. This is cold-blooded murder. This is not the answer.' Dumbledore said warningly. 'We can find a solution to this without staining our souls.'

'We're both aware of the state of my soul. I won't die in this place.' I said stonily, but I did not cast a spell. My hand wasn't making the motion. For Merlin's sake, this was so bloody idiotic! I'd killed a man not twenty minutes earlier for fuck's sake! I could do it again.

Not a thing on this island...

My gaze shot up, staring up at the ceiling, but my mind's eye saw further beyond, to the roiling cloud of Dementors I knew lay far above.

My eyes darted to my companions. 'Dumbledore, do you know what the sensory range of a Dementor is?'

The Headmaster blinked at the total non-sequitur. 'Pardon?'

'How far away can Dementors sense people? Humour me.'

He frowned. 'Alas, it is not an avenue of research I have pursued personally. I am uncertain.'

I looked back to the prisoners, calculating. I lowered my wand. The bars were adamantine. If my idea worked...

'We're going to the roof. I've got an idea to defeat them. These gates should hold long enough to get it done.' I said, reaching over and slamming Rookwood's cell shut and locked, before striding towards the main hall without showing a hint of more hesitation.

Dumbledore beamed proudly at me. 'Excellent! What is your plan?'

It was at this moment that the first Terracotta Soldier came charging up the stairs at the end of the broad corridor we'd entered from. It was carrying a jian sword, and anti-light rose from the blade like fire. My gun was up and blazing before I even thought about it, and the soldier's torso exploded in a cloud of ceramic and dust. It fell back, tumbling down the stairs and knocking down the two soldiers behind it.

I may have made some improvements to my initial designs since China.

'MOVE!' I shouted, and my companions wasted no more time. We fled down the opposite direction, where the stairs to the floor above lay. Thank the gods for the impractical design of this hellhole.

Where those three soldiers had been, more followed. I took the rear, blasting away at the soldiers as swiftly as I could, but they were already beginning to reform by the time I was sprinting up the black steps.

'How many more storeys?!' I shouted at Dumbledore, the centenarian taking the stairs four at a time like it was nothing.

'Three!' He called back. Three. I could do three.

The thirty sixth floor was, mercifully, uncomplicated. A long spiral into the centre, the walls smoothly curved yet the cells somehow all perfectly square. I didn't let my mind dwell on the impossibility.

An arrow whizzed by my ear, close enough that I could feel the icy anti-light flame on its head. I fired wildly back, catching the terracotta archer in its shin, and its second arrow went wild as it fell. Infantrymen sprinted past it, but I had put on a burst of speed, and was already disappearing around the spiral.

My wand spewed liquid nitrogen out of its tip behind me as I ran. Conjured grease or caltrops would dissolve under the soldiers' antimagic aura before they could get a chance to work, but these floors were still damp enough with real water to get icy.

I didn't look back to see if it worked, but a few seconds later I was rewarded with a clattering crash. I grinned. The Army may be incredibly deadly, but they were as stupid as any golem. I had more tricks up my sleeve if things got uglier, but hopefully I wouldn't have to spend them.

The centre of the spiral had a similarly spiraling staircase, and Dumbledore was already disappearing up it. I hurried after him.

The thirty seventh floor caught me off guard, almost so much that I forgot to run. The stairway let out on one corner of seeming a great open space. There were no cells here. Indeed, it appeared to be entirely without walls, the black ceiling above hanging unsupported. The rain spattered around the edges of it as if there truly were no wall. But I was sure that there had been no such opening when I saw the place from the outside...

My companions didn't seem surprised by it, and I followed their sprint across its surface, with little choice but to trust they knew what they were doing.

Williamson, the craven, was outstripping us all by a wide margin in his flight. When he got about two thirds of the way through the chamber, he suddenly began running on thin air, up an invisible ramp and passing through the ceiling like it wasn't there. Ah, of course.

The others hurtled after him, but I hesitated halfway up. I needed to make sure the Army saw where we were going. I took the opportunity to spray a torrent of liquid nitrogen out across the floor again. It was even wetter here.

It took mere moments for the first archer to surge up the stairs. The ice had slowed them a lot more than I'd expected. I'd have to remember that. It loosed an arrow in a heartbeat, before I could even aim. I jerked wildly to the side, barely getting out of the way in time. It slammed into the invisible ramp and stuck fast - whatever the ramp was made of, it clearly wasn't the invulnerable black stone. I nailed the archer in the eye with my handgun, and leapt up to the next floor.

Thirty eight. The last obstacle, I prayed. It turned out to be nearly no obstacle at all. I found myself in what appeared to be an enormous studio flat, stretching the length and breadth of the entire citadel. It looked like nobody had been up here in decades. Centuries even. Every piece of soft material had long since vanished away, rendering what was probably once plush medieval furniture into decrepit skeletons of damp-rotted timber and rusted steel. This must have been the living quarters of Ekrizdis, the dark wizard that once ruled this place.

My companions were nearby. Dumbledore was standing trying to unscrew a hatch upon the ceiling. It was a futile effort, the metal had long since rusted shut, and it was resisting his magic.

'Here, let me.' I said, nudging him out of the way. I leapt up, with as much force as I could muster, crashing brutally into the hatch. The thick steel hinge shattered, and the hatch and I both exploded out onto the roof, landing with a heavy splash. The roof had a lip to it. Not much, but enough to capture some of the rain. I heard a surprised shriek from below as somebody got utterly drenched in freezing water, but I could not tell who it was.

I took a moment to get my bearings as the others clambered up, shaking away the slight dizziness that came over even me when basically headbutting my way through five inches of steel. The view from up here was absolutely unbelievable, nothing but cold ocean as far as the horizon could stretch. It took my breath away all over again. How the hell did Sirius manage to swim away from here?

My gaze shifted up to the mass of Dementors seething overhead. They were so very near, and I felt very thankful for the phoenix Patronus still floating over my shoulder. That comfort wouldn't last much longer.

'Alright, we made it.' Williamson said, his voice still rough from the sprint. 'What now? Don't tell me we were supposed to stop back in the void room.'

I shook my head. 'No, this is perfect. Now we wait for them to come to us. When they start climbing, you all need to drop your Patronuses.'

They blanched in unison. 'You're mad!' Williamson said incredulously.

Dumbledore, to my surprise, looked no less aghast. He looked very nervously up at the Dementors. 'Tom, we cannot...'

'Do it, or we're dead.'

A clay head appeared through the hatch, and I blew it apart. Another soldier leapt bodily up through the hatch, black-flamed jian in hand, and a heavy bronze tower shield in the other. I fired, but it caught the shot against its shield. The thick bronze buckled where the bullet struck, but did not penetrate, and then the warrior was upon me.

Its overhead thrust missed me by millimetres, and I rewarded its tenacity with a monstrous kick against its shield. The magic maintaining the ancient bronze caved entirely, and its upper edge slammed brutally into the soldier's head. It was sent flying, tumbling end over end until it went over the far edge.

'There's no time left! Do it NOW!' I commanded, ignoring the bitter ache in my head. More soldiers had leapt up already.

The two silvery phoenixes dissolved, and a moment later the jackrabbit followed. But the ram stayed. Instead, an explosive hex sailed over my shoulder and vanished completely against one of the soldiers' armour. It didn't even seem to notice before I shot it in the face.

I swore viciously, and lashed out behind me. Williamson screamed in shock and pain as his arm separated bloodlessly at the elbow, and his ram finally vanished. I'd apologise to the moron later.

Nothing happened, and as more soldiers began to pour out of the hatch, my heart sank. I'd been wrong. I'd doomed us all. They were too close to escape now.

They drove us back, throwing themselves at me, each time putting themselves back together a little closer as their comrades pressed the attack. Already a dozen had reached the roof, and more poured out still. Behind them, Lord Voldemort now floated, an inhumanly wide grin stretched across his subhuman face. He didn't even need to do anything but watch.

I was forced to swap my wand for a second handgun, and my aim went to shit, but I barely needed it. It wasn't enough, I despaired. We were going to die here. My mind sprung back to the night Sandy McKellan. I could practically see it in front of me, opening her throat onto the cold stone floor. I'd failed her again.

One warrior leapt ahead, bringing his sword in a long arc down on my head. It never landed.

The soldier was suddenly yanked bodily upward, a Dementor swooping down to seize its head in both hands mid-leap. It lifted the soldier swiftly, back out over the open ocean before anyone could react. But the soldier didn't hesitate in shock. It drove its black-flamed sword straight through the Dementor's body, and it threw its head back in a rattling gasp. It released the soldier, and they both tumbled through the air and out of sight.

But that was only the first. The Dementors poured down out of the sky, sharks in a frenzy. They made no war cry, flew in no formation at all. They simply attacked. My companions and I backed away as far as we could, but we had nowhere to go. The hatch was right in the middle of it all.

It was the most terrifying thing I had ever seen, yet I could not look away. A battle done almost in silence, but no less brutal for it. The Dementors paid us no mind at all, so single-minded were they. Lord Voldemort shrieked in fury, but didn't dare get any closer to the melee. Like us, he seemed transfixed by the sheer spectacle of it.

They were horribly effective, and I had never realised how strong they were. After all, their victims didn't usually fight back. I watched as one closest to us broke the sword arm clean off its prey, then seized it by the throat. The Dementor drew the soldier's head up under the its hood, and did what it did best. The soldier shuddered violently along its whole body, almost as though it were a real person. Then it went stiff, and when the Dementor dropped it without a care, it cracked in two on the black stone. The Dementor went right back into the fray, hunting more morsels.

But the Army were not helpless. They fought back just as brutally, stabbing and chopping at the Dementors without hesitation. Many Dementors were set aflame by the anti-light, writhing in near-silent agony as it consumed them. But there were so many more Dementors than there were Army, and soon the last of them was devoured.

Dozens of Dementors poured down through the hatch, and I knew they must be hunting out the stragglers. But a small crowd of them stayed on the roof, and more than a few turned their gaze upon us. Sandy's face shimmered before me, as I became very suddenly aware of how many of them hadn't gotten the chance to eat a soldier.

Lord Voldemort seemed to realise this as well, and he let out a cold, high chuckle. 'I hope you can cast a Patronus, little traitorous Diary. They seem hungry!'

One Dementor straightened, floating gently towards us. Dumbledore raised his wand with a trembling hand, but he could produce naught by silvery mist. He made a noise quite unlike himself. Whatever the Dementors were making him see, it was on the verge of overwhelming him. But the Dementor stopped anyway. The shrouded void beneath its hood seemed to stare into my eyes.

Master feeds the Gestalt well.

The words slapped into my outermost Occlumency shields like graffiti made of ice. Tonks and a still-whimpering Williamson reeled from it, and I blinked in shock. Dumbledore sucked in a sharp breath.

'What?' I managed.

'WHAT!?' Lord Voldemort shrieked.

The Dementor did not emote any reaction to the general incredulity.

Master feeds the Gestalt well. It repeated.

Well. That was unexpected.

I locked eyes with my other self. I'd like to say I saw fear in that carmine gaze, but he was simply too inhuman to read. I raised a damning finger to point at him.

'If I'm your master... bring me his head.'

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A/N: I don't know what it is about the Terracotta Army that makes their chapters so long. Hopefully some of you will recall just why the Dementors might find the Terracotta Army particularly delectable prey. ;)

In other news, this week I bought and read the novel "Shadow of the Conqueror" by Shad Brooks, on recommendation from a reader. I'd watched Shad's youtube channel and knew of the book, but hadn't gotten around to it yet. The premise is somewhat similar to this story in fact, and I enjoyed it a great deal. I would recommend it to any fan of the Imposter Complex, especially if you really dig on worldbuilding.

As always, please follow and let me know your thoughts in a review.