A/N Ok, one final slug. I was going to space it out a bit more but it looks like I'm going to be out of town for a few weeks so you get it all. Also, this is a trigger warning as Harry and Hermione are not light in this story, and this chapter proves it. I tried to minimize the gore and such while still giving enough to invoke appropriate imagery. Hope you enjoy.

Chapter 13

Two armored figures made their way carefully through the undergrowth on a path unused in decades. This spot in the quiet forest was dark, darker than any of the areas around it, and the couple knew why. They could see the inky blackness seeping from their destination, corrupting the forest around it. It was as if the whole area was sick, dying, and the small hut they were approaching was the cause of the sickness.

"You know, if he weren't so insane, I'd have to say Tom is rather clever," Harry said as his staff flared and the outer wards began to crumble.

"It's like Andarius the Necromancer, brilliant yet misguided," Hermione answered. "I don't particularly like the man, or his ideals, but he is absolutely brilliant."

"He is that." The staff shifted to unravel the fifth ward, bypassing the second through fourth layers for now. "Yet Tom is different. Andarius is misguided yes, but not particularly evil for it. He is by no means light, and definitely the darker side of neutral if not truly dark."

"I suppose, though, the thing he does with those kangaroo bodies…"

"Point," Harry shuddered, and moved on to dismantling the third ward. "That particular penchant is best left unmentioned."

"Agreed," Hermione started to say something else, but held off as the black dome surrounding their target collapsed. "Next?"

"Well, I see several traps along the path, a couple in the yard, and the door fairly glows with deadly magic. Path first?"

Hermione nodded, her own staff humming as she began to channel energy into it. Her eyes turned pure white as she drew in the eldritch power under her command and channeled it, the excess sparking through her hair as it waved in the building breeze. The sky began to darken and clouds moved in rapidly, the wind picked up and lightning began to crash. A bolt struck the ground before them and a spell trap exploded sending debris flying in all directions. Another strike and another spell immolated itself. Another, and another, over the next five minutes over three dozen lighting strikes peppered the area, each strike demolishing a trap spell.

She slowly released the power, easing the storm back down, and her breathing grew deeper. The storm became less violent, but didn't dissipate completely. The wind still blew and the smell of rain pervaded the air. The storm would eventually die out but would stick around long enough not to overly alarm the muggles as to the magical nature of the phenomenon.

"Very nice, love," Harry rested a hand on her shoulder for a second, before moving to the door. He cocked his head as they stopped several paces away to study it, noting the various charms and compulsions upon it. Then he saw what he needed, the chink in the armor so to speak. Everything was on the door itself, not the house or the frame. "Such a simple mistake Tom. Evanesco."

The door vanished.

"Really?" Hermione asked in disbelief. "He honestly… I take back my compliment from earlier, he's an idiot."

"Most magicals are, dear." He glanced inside and then crouched. "And who are you, pretty one?"

A large snake slithered forward, its green and red scales glinting in what little light was coming through. It was almost as large as the boa constrictor Harry had released on Dudley during his zoo trip before Hogwarts, but there was still an undefinable majesty to it that couldn't be put into words. It slithered slowly towards them in the open space, and Harry could see the dark chains around it.

$$Peace, little one, we mean you no harm,$$ he hissed at it. The snake paused in its approach. $$I see that he has done to you, so cruel.$$

$$Speaker, you are not the one who made me this way, but you are still a speaker. He told me to kill any who intruded, yet I cannot attack a speaker, especially one with the blood of the king of serpents in him.$$ The snake turned on itself, coiling up and considering the pair.

$$I offer you freedom, I can break his command of you,$$ Harry offered, then closed his eyes in sadness. $$I can free you, but it is the freedom of death. The magic he worked on you cannot be undone. He tied you to this place, if you leave it, you die. This is the only place you can be and live.$$

$$Then I would die,$$ the snake answered after a moment. $$This is not living, this is not being.$$

$$So be it.$$ Harry rose, bringing his staff to bear and the snake simply curled into itself, as if to sleep, and closed its eyes. "Vipera Evanesca puritas."

"It is sad that so many have to suffer due to the cruelty of one man. There was no need to anchor him like that, yet that asshole still did it," Hermione huffed as white light slowly burned the snake away to nothing. She took a deep breath, then began to scan the rest of the room. She frowned and scanned it again. "I'm not seeing anything else in here."

Harry frowned and started scanning it himself. He started to step in when his instincts went haywire. Pulling himself back, he looked again, then smiled.

"Look beneath the floor," He said simply, chuckling at the ingenuity.

"Under the… Oh that sneaky bastard. I see it now, it looks like pressure sensitive exploding traps. Step on the wrong spot, the board sags into the trap and boom. But since it's not on the top of the floorboards, it doesn't register on a standard scan. Clever," Hermione nodded. "How do you want to handle this?"

"We can either set them off or step around them. And given the odds of an associated alarm, let's just go one step further." Harry pulled a small black stone from his pocket, then placed it just inside the doorway. The silvery etched runes on it flared, lighting red for a moment before shifting to green. From through the slats of the floor, a series of purple lights flared, casting odd shadows and weird effects throughout the single room of the hut until each flared out in turn. The green glow of the runes on the stone faded, flashed blue, then disappeared.

"Magic sink?" Hermione asked curiously.

"Magic sink," Harry confirmed. He cast the scan spells again and nodded, indicating a corner of the room. "All clear. I'm betting that the damn thing is under the floor over there, the floor looks newer. Bet he used a reparo and didn't think about the difference in appearance."

"No bet. I'm starting to think magical schools are actually trying to make people lazy, not just creating it as a byproduct." Hermione moved closer to the indicated area and began levitating floorboards out of the way. Less than a minute later a small depression with a miniature chest was revealed. She waited while Harry disabled the trap that would trigger if the box was removed, as well as the really nasty one triggered if you opened the box while it was still in the hole. Carefully removing the box, she opened it to reveal a gold ring with a large black stone.

"Oh he's just pissing everyone off, isn't he?" Harry grumbled rhetorically. He flicked his finger, transferring the withering curse to the box floating above Hermione's hand, then dispelled the compulsion charm to wear the thing. Once it was safe, he removed the horcrux and they returned the box to its hole.

Slowly backing out of the room, they worked to return the building to its original state. The floor was replaced, dust reapplied, and finally the stone removed. They saw the traps beneath the floor flare as they were restored, then fade back to their standby state. A new door was conjured, and new traps laid upon it, just in case Riddle decided to check his anchors before the equinox. The outer wards they would leave down, they could be explained as having failed over time.

"That's the last one, now we just have to wait," Harry smiled as the couple walked away.

Cold wind blew across the icy waves as a lone barge crashed across the water. It was an old boat, its wood worn and weather duled. Ice build up on the bow glistened in the failing light as it approached an equally worn and decrepit pier. Two figures stood on the end of the dock, seemingly impervious to the biting cold as they waited for the barge to reach the shore.

"Aurors, identify yourselves!" A shouted voice carried over the winds once the barge was close enough, and the figures just stood there, waiting.

A trio of red robed figures gathered on the deck, shivering in the cold as the barge maneuvered the last few feet to touch the dock. From the pier, lines began to uncoil themselves, floating out and attaching themselves to the boat, securing it to the massive pilings of its berth.

"I said Aurors, identify yourselves," one of the red robes figures screamed, jumping up and moving to the pair. His gruff hand reached out, grabbing a shoulder and twisting the one on the right to face him. Then the screams began. In less than a second the arm that had grabbed the figure was the only thing holding him up as a slim blade flashed. Before the others could even twitch it was over and the offending Auror was hanging by his arm, his sleeve cut wide and arm bloody. Wet darkness crept through his robes as more blood from gashes on his legs spread. The most damning part however, was the newly exposed dark mark on his arm, plain for any to see.

"Death Eater," a cold voice rumbled, and suddenly the pain of his wounds was the least of his worries as three feet of sword grew from his belly.

The remaining Aurors watched stunned as their compatriot slumped when he was released and the man retrieved his sword from his gut. In turn, the pair moved towards them, as if suddenly they remembered they were there too. Spells began to fly, dark and nasty ones, deadly should they ever land. However, none ever did as the pair swatted them aside like flies. Even the deadly killing curse was deflected, and then both red robed figures screamed as they too fell the the gleaming swords of their attackers.

The barge surged, struggling to move against the lines as it sought to flee, but even as it failed to depart more and more lines flew across and finally the captain gave up, letting the pier pull his vessel back into place.

Five more Aurors spilled from the interior, spells already flying from their wands, and the duo hopped aboard. Steel flashed, crimson blood sprayed, and five seconds later there was only one Auror still alive. The poor girl cowered in the corner trying to stop the blood gushing from the stump of her wand hand.

"Why are you here?" demanded the cloaked man, magic flaring as she answered.

"Prisoner release. Old cases got reviewed and sentences overturned," she stuttered, feeling the life flowing out of her. "These folks were sentenced when they should never have been charged, used as scapegoats."

The other figure's blade flicked out, and she screamed again as her new dark mark was exposed, this time split by the line of the woman's sword.

"Lies, Death Eater. Now you, and they, die," the man spoke as life left the Auror, spilling onto the deck and adding itself to the crimson pool already there.

Turning from the dead woman, the pair nodded to each other, and began to move through the vessel. The first cell they came to housed a woman, her eyes crazed and hair wild as she peered back at them.

"Bellatrix Lestrange," muttered the man, his voice heavy with contempt.

"Yes, and my master will hear of you. Want to have some fun? Help us teach some filthy mudbloods some lessons?" Bellatrix looked at them hungrily, pleadingly.

"Oh, your master already knows of us, and he will again," the woman spoke conversationally, ignoring the crazed look from the prisoner. "But not from you."

Tentacles crawled over her mind, and everything she'd ever done replayed before her eyes. Her first kill, in Hogwarts during a Hogsmeade weekend. The first time she tortured a muggle, her actions for her master, the Longbottoms, a Ministry raid. Every dark act she had ever done, one after another.

Bellatrix tried to speak, to scream, to move, and found she couldn't. Realization filled her eyes as she felt no breath, no beat of her heart. They were killing her, taking the very air from her lungs. Even she was not so cold blooded. She liked to play, sure, but never had she been this cold. And as the darkness collapsed her vision, she saw the emerald glow from beneath the hood just before she became nothing again.

"Antonin Dolohov." The occupant of the next cell looked up, clearly expecting to be let out, and disappointment flared across his face.

"How much longer before you let us go, I know our master commanded our release," he snarled in annoyance.

"Oh you will be free," the woman spoke, and Dolohov looked up at the anger in her voice. "You shall be free of this life, and with it, the stain you bring upon magic."

Antonin was smart, a former researcher, and yet even he did not know what to make of this pair. Armored and wearing swords, yet even from here he could feel their power like lighthouses in the dark. Who were these people? His mental shields felt the probe, but could do nothing as it raped his mind. His betrayals, his own dark plans, everything he was was laid bare. He saw every murder, every torture, every rape played before him like he was reliving it.

"Goodbye Antonin," the man said, and Dolohov knew no more.

"Rodolphus Lestrange…"

"Augustus Rookwood…"

Throughout the barge, the scene repeated over and over, each prisoner checked, their minds scanned then death given.

"Fourteen down," the man said as they reached the rear deck, completely ignoring the nineteen new bodies they had created during their passage through the ship. "Three hundred and twelve to go."

Harry turned from the view of the icy waters, climbing up onto the dock then up further onto the back of a gleaming snow white dragon. He stood, hand grabbing one of the spines along the beast's back as it took flight. Swirling snow and spray danced around him as she rose then began to fly out over the water.

Soon, a dark island began to appear. A rocky, lonely little chunk of land with a single tower-like obelisk rising from the tiny mass. Three sided, almost like a giant triangular rook, the fortress of Azkaban loomed larger and larger as the distance separating them shrank.

As they passed over the prison, Harry let go, falling backwards and off the dragon's back. He pulled power to him, controlling his fall as he slowed his descent. Landing lightly on the dock of Azkaban, he pulled his staff from the ether and began to pull more power to himself. Hermione roared above him, wheeling around and pushing her own magic to him. The staff glowed golden, then a dome of arcing golden light erected itself over the prison, shrouding it in a warm glow.

A lone dementor started to approach, sent to check out the new arrival.

"You are an abomination, you have no balance, not counter. The only reason you live is to cause suffering, and that shall not be allowed," Harry bellowed and the dementor paused. It was still considering the puzzle the masqued man posed when it found itself screaming as black flames engulfed it. Its screams called more dementors to their attention, and over and over the dragon immolated the dark beasts. They tried to swarm them, but none got close. The dragon radiated light like a living patronus and the dementors could not get near it. As soon as the demons could be seen, they would be attacked. Harry clove and swung his sword, its gleaming blade as lethal to the dark creatures as the black flames of the dragon. The creatures tried to flee, but found themselves trapped within the golden dome, kept in place while the dragon and the wizard killed them.

A dark miasma seemed to lift from the island as the last dementor died, like a heaviness leaving the air. Harry smiled beneath his cowl as he flicked the ichor that served as blood for the demons from his blade. The dragon landed beside him, and as it landed shrank itself back into the form of his wife.

"It's always heady when we call on them," Hermione commented idly, a small shiver running through her at the remembered power of Hekate's mortal form.

"Yes, Zir and Hekate are generous with their forms. Time to knock," Harry agreed, moving forward and blasting the gates off the tower. The trio of guards behind them dove to the side as the doors were blasted back, slamming into the wall on the far side. Before they could recover, they were thrown against the walls of the entry and stuck there. Their struggles were obvious, as was the futility of them.

"Augustus Brooks, Leonard Trally, Sirio Constantine, Judgement is upon you," Harry spoke evenly. As he faced the threesome, Hermione's sword flicked out, and each stared in horror as their armored robes parted like paper. Two dark marks stood out strongly against the white of their skin while the third's arms were bare. As soon as their marks were exposed, Brooks and Constantine began to scream. Their bodies went rigid, and their eyes stared blankly in horror as they cried tears of blood. Their breath left them, their sagged heads rolling and the stench of death rose from them. Trally felt cold tentacles creep along his brain, like wet slimy fingers. He saw everything he had done, good, bad, and neutral. Every choice he had made in his life flashed before him before the tendrils withdrew.

"You, Leonard Trally, will live today. You are not evil, but nor are you good. You have ignored much, turned blind eyes to the excesses of your fellows. You have not done enough to deserve Judgement today, but take this lesson with you. There is a difference between what is right, and what is easy. Think about what you have done, and find what has been right, and what was easy."

The duo left Trally attached to the wall and moved into the prison proper. For hours, Trally hung there listening to the screams echoing through the halls as the pair made their way to each cell, to every guard.

Five and a half hours later, Harry and Hermione left the solitary island of Azkaban behind them, their task complete. Of the original three hundred twenty-six inhabitants of the island, exactly seventeen remained alive. Every other inmate and guard had been judged, and found wanting.