AN: Welcome to the next chapter!
I am glad my cliffhangers make you so excited to read the next chapters.
Since, I have received a few questions concerning the length of this project:
I estimate that we have perhaps another ten to fifteen chapters ahead of us.
We will therefore likely finish around the 100 Chapter mark.
Until then, Enjoy!
The recognizable sections belong to JKR
Chapter 89
February 10th, 1997
He was moving fast... Having memorized the route up to Grindelwald's cell, Harry quickly found his way back to the entrance of the castle. To his surprise, Dumbledore almost managed to keep up with him. His pale, wrinkled face showed great signs of worry.
As soon as they stepped outside the comply ward scheme of the Prison, the Elderwand had slipped into the headmaster's palm. He was muttering an incantation under his breath, with the tip of his wand pointed at a long quill, he had snatched from the cell upstairs.
Harry recognized that Dumbledore was creating a Portkey. Any thought on not provoking an international incidence must have been wiped away from the headmaster's thoughts.
Harry watched impatiently as Dumbledore finished his creation. If it would have taken any longer, he may have attempted to apparate himself. However, unfortunately, he did not know the exact location of Azkaban... All he could think about was the mortal danger Fleur might be in since she probably chose to step right into the line of fire and was involved in whatever events happened around Azkaban right now.
"Where exactly will it take us?" Harry asked.
"We will arrive right on top of the prison." The headmaster explained after he finished the creation: "Hold on to it, now!"
A second later the pair disappeared with a snap. Harry breathed in deeply. The air was salty where he was taken to. Thick grey clouds darkened the sky above them. However, the menacing atmosphere did not concern him nearly as much as the first thing Harry saw when he landed on the rough stone roof of Azkaban Prison:
A shimmer of platinum blonde hair was sprawled across a body on the ground. Pale, smooth limps were kicking the bony hands that tried to grab her angles... A high shriek escaped her red lips...
A deadly frostiness crept up Harry's skin as he watched the scene before him. The cold he was emitting could be felt by almost anyone on the roof. It stood in strong contrast to the ravishing heat that was rushing through his body, dominating every coherent thought. His wand was a blur in the cold air. What left his lips was not an incantation, but a desperate roar.
The three men closest to Fleur, including the one who had dared to lay his filthy hands on her, were vaporized in an instant, leaving behind a small pile of ash and the scent of burned skin and flesh. The piece of elder wood flicked again and a three-meter-tall wall of vibrant blackish flame surrounded the Veela, completely cutting her off from anyone who would dare to approach her again.
The mob shivered back, their eyes widened in fear at the unfamiliar and powerful magic protecting their target. In their helplessness, they looked to their Lord, the one who had promised to save them from this place.
Voldemort's crimson eyes narrowed dangerously when he spotted Harry. His pale, snake-like face turned into a mask of hatred and fury. Harry took a protective stance in front of Fleur and took a look around.
The platform was littered with the bodies of fallen Death Eaters or the defendants of the prison. Instead of the pure chaos and individual duels, the Dark Lord had gathered his entire following behind him now. Harry's eyes flickered over the group of roughly three dozen Death Eaters in black robes and silver masks and the even larger mob of prisoners that leered behind them.
All that was left of their opposition was half a dozen Azkaban guards, two Aurors in from the Ministry, and a couple of Order Members. In terms of numbers, they were hopelessly outmatched. However, in terms of magical power, it was more difficult to say. After all, they had Dumbledore on their side, who was already creating Portkeys to take away the wounded. The majority of prisoners did not carry a wand unless taken from one of the many fallen.
Harry would love nothing more than to cut a bloody path through the Dark Lord's ranks, but his priority was getting Fleur out of danger. He searched for Dumbledore's eyes and gestured for him to create a Portkey for Fleur.
The headmaster nodded his understanding, so Harry allowed for a small gap in between his wall of blackish flames for the headmaster to pass through and portkey Fleur into safety... Then he turned back to his foe.
"How nice of you to join us with today, Harry..." The Dark Lord hissed dangerously; his eyes had not left the young man in front of him. He was furious that Potter and Dumbledore had made it back so quickly. For weeks his spy network at Hogwarts had done its best to track any of the headmaster's and Harry Potter's movements. Early today they had reported that they finally made out a pattern. The Dark Lord had welcomed this opportunity to strike. Now it seems that his spies had been wrong. His two enemies had received the call for help and joined the fight. Something he had planned to avoid.
Nevertheless, his mission had already been a success, as he dealt a heavy blow to the Ministry. The number of followers lost in the attack was more than made up for by the mass of prisoners he rescued, of who many would join his ranks. Still, he would have loved to take the Veela half breed as a hostage. The boy would do anything for her, and it would be a strategic victory for him and his followers.
"It seems I must have missed my invitation. But I would not want to miss out on such a large reunion, would I?" Harry inclined his head. To be honest, he had not expected to encounter the man so soon again. Of course, he was more confident in his abilities than half a year ago in the ministry, but unless he could land another surprising hit, the Dark Lord would still overpower him.
Voldemort's crimson eyes narrowed further: "Indeed, I am sure you have been missed very dearly. Especially by the half breed you are so fond of, Harry."
"A brilliant deduction, my boy." Harry grinned even though nothing was funny about the situation.
A hiss escaped the Dark Lord's throat: "She is your weakness, Harry, and nothing will keep her save from me... Sooner or later she will make the acquaintance with some other beasts within my ranks... Mark my words, boy." Came the mocking reply.
"Empty words, Tom." Harry forced himself to remain calm, but the open threat against Fleur had the wand in his palm demanding blood in satisfaction.
"I am sure your followers have missed me even more... Though, the looks on your men's faces say otherwise. I am certain a few of them have wet themselves already...," Harry smirked.
As a matter of fact, the Death Eaters and escaped prisoners looked warily from his vibrant green eyes to the deadly wand in his palm. Only seconds ago, three of their comrades had been pulverized by an unknown spell from the young man and none of them recognized the wall of blackish flames that blocked their view to the Veela.
"They do not fear a mere boy!" The Dark lord growled in fury: "And the ones that do will be quickly sorted out!"
Harry laughed coldly: "I forgot... They only fear you, don't they? Their glorious half-blood leader who murders his own followers in their sleep, just like the Carrows..."
"Lies!" The Dark Lord's wand slashed through the air and a purple fiery whip missed his target only by an inch.
Harry grimaced in satisfaction. Once more the seed of doubt had been planted into the minds of Voldemort's followers, as their nervous murmurers and whispers proved. Unfortunately, now he had to deal with an enraged Dark Lord, who was going all on out on him.
Harry quickly found himself on the defense as he batted away incoming spells and sidestepped the more obscure ones. Apparently, Voldemort had finally learned his lesson. Not a single Unforgivable was sent towards him.
Meanwhile, the Death Eaters had shaken themselves out of their state of shock and began attacking the remaining survivors. Luckily, Dumbledore's presence stopped them from being too overconfident. Harry rolled his eyes as he saw a stunner leave the headmaster's wand. He would praise the day the professor finally quit his pacifistic approach.
Harry's attention was quickly taken back to the Dark Lord, who conjured a horde of enormous green snakes, which hissed angrily, showed off their sharp, venomous fangs, and attacked Harry.
The younger wizard defended himself by transfiguring some surrounding rocks into large black ravens. With angry shrieks, the birds attacked the snakes from the sky, using their razor-sharp beaks and claws to deal grave injuries to Voldemort's conjuration.
The Dark Lord roared once more, as he took down the annoying birds by himself, to allow his snakes to deal with his foe. Harry channeled his magic and slashed the elder wood wand over the ground in front of him. Heat rushed through his wand, but true to Gregorovitch's promise, the tool was able to handle the exceptional display of power more than well.
Stone piles, bricks, and rocks started melting into a pile of boiling lava as the heat poured through them. The snakes winced and hissed in pain, unable to escape the searing grave.
With another flick, Harry pushed even more magic into his spell and forced the lake of molten material towards his opponent. Voldemort's eyes widened as he felt the floor beneath his feet becoming unbearably hot. Cooling the material back down was almost impossible, even for him, and it would tire him greatly. He scowled as he realized that the only way for him to not lose his face in front of his followers, was to make use of a nearly discovered ability. With a hiss, he began chanting.
At the other side of the molten lake, Harry watched curiously as the Dark Lord became still and unmoving. The ravaging lava had almost reached him, now. Harry was surprised that the man's robes did not catch fire already. Then, the Dark Lord ascended into the air.
Harry's eyes widened at what he saw. Voldemort was flying like smoke on the wind, without a broomstick or any other magical means holding him. His snake-like facing gleamed in triumph as his white fingers raised the pale wand.
He fired a bang from his wand, which was pretty much unnecessary since most of the fighting around them had stopped already. Wizards and witches from both sides were staring in either awe or fear at the man who just achieved what sorcerers had been dreaming of for centuries... True unsupported flight...
Harry cast a look behind him and saw how even Dumbledore stared bewildered at his former student.
"See for yourself the power that I hold!" The Dark Lords' amplified voice doomed over the battlefield: "How could you hope to match me, Chosen-One? How could anyone hope to do so? I have no Equals!"
The crowd was silent, too perplexed by what they are witnessing as Voldemort elegantly shifted through air and back to his followers, where he landed without making any sound.
"I wield magic you could only dream of. You have failed, Harry! And you are too late." The Dark Lord laughed coldly, satisfied that his display of raw magical power had worked so well.
"Looks like I came just in time, Tom," Harry replied with a small smile and gestured around them. With Dumbledore supporting the resistance, there were no more casualties on their side. And unlike the headmaster, the majority of Order members did not bother with stunning or disarming charms. Over a dozen Death Eaters had lost their lives within the last few minutes.
"Indeed, just in time to die, Harry." The Dark Lord roared. Harry watched him, as he hissed a rather long incantation and shot his wand upwards, raising the pale wooden stick high into the sky.
A few seconds later, the clouds around them seem to darken. However, upon closer inspections, their change in color was due to the largest flock of Dementors, Harry had ever seen. The sky was literally blackened by their presence. Whatever stray rays of sunlight may have lost themselves through the thick clouds, there was no way, they would penetrate the dark patches of cloaks that encased the foulest creatures on earth.
Harry readied himself for the inevitable feeling of misery and despair, but to his surprise, they did not seem to have as much of an effect on him as he would have expected. He had noticed the same when two dementors had attacked him the summer after his fourth year. In fact, ever since he started wearing the Peverell ring, the Dementors' powers had been somewhat kept at bay. Perhaps the Ring's unique magic clashed with the fundamental urges of the Dementors?
Harry would find out later. Right now, he had to do something. Out of the remaining Order members, Dumbledore was the only one left standing in defiance. The rest was cowering behind him. Harry could hardly blame them. The effects of that many dark creatures on an average witch or wizard were extremely unpleasant.
Even the majority of Death Eaters trembling in fear and misery. The only one who seemed equally as unaffected as Harry and Dumbledore was Voldemort himself. The Dark Lord had now lowered his wand and pointed it straight at Harry, his eyes were closed and he was still muttering an unknown incantation.
The Dementors seemed to obey him, as they ignored the Death Eaters and instead focused on Harry and his companions. The boy turned towards the headmaster. "Shield them and get them out of here." He gestured for the remaining Order members: "I will fight off the Dementors."
"What have you planned, Harry?" Dumbledore asked, shocked at seeing the fire in the vibrant, emerald, green eyes of his student. Nevertheless, he complied with Harry's instructions and conjured his Patronus, who took the shape of a silvery dome all around himself and the Order, with only Harry standing outside of it.
Harry took a deep breath to calm his mind as he conjured his Inimicus. The black Thestral immediately took off into the sky to attack the closest Dementors and repel them. Meanwhile, Harry had started waving his arms in front of him in a circular motion, after a few turns, a miniature whirlwind formed on the ground below him, pushing away any dust and small pieces of debris that lay in its path.
Harry continued waving his hands, allowing the whirlwind to grow in both, its size and its strength. Next, he pushed his arms apart in steady, rhythmic beats. He was no longer the epicenter of the whirlwind, instead, it had spread to also include Dumbledore and whatever was left of the group next to him.
By now, the wind had grown so strong and picked up so much dust and debris, that it was almost impossible to make out anyone standing on the other side. Harry did notice, however, that the Death Eaters were shielding their faces, or conjuring obstacles to stop any rocks, propelled by Harry's summoned storm, from smashing into them.
Harry grimaced in satisfaction as his literal tornado grew so strong that even Voldemort was pushed a few feet backward, while the man unleashed a volley of spells at what he assumed to be the epicenter of the storm.
None of the Dark Lords curse even managed to connect with Harry. The magical storm would absorb anything apart from the Unforgivables, but chances were even those would be blocked and intercepted by the thousands of small pieces of debris.
Meanwhile, the whirlwind also acted as a barrier for the Dementors. No matter how hard they tried, the foul creatures failed to come anywhere close to it. The few, who just would not give up, were quickly picked apart by Harry's Inimicus.
Harry still remained right in the epicenter of the storm and continued waving his arms in the same circular motion. His eyes were beaming a bright green and the magic radiated off of him in waves. A tap on his shoulder made him spin his head around.
"Come, Harry!" Dumbledore yelled against the storm: "There is nothing left to save here!"
Rather reluctantly, Harry stopped his elemental spell and took Dumbledore's offered hand. The two wizards apparated away and reappeared in the brightly lit hospital wing at Hogwarts, where they found Madam Pomfrey hurrying from one bed to another.
Harry lost no time and searched for Fleur. He could feel her familiar magic calling out to him and found the Veela soon, sitting upright in a bed:
"Fleur! Are you hurt? Where is Sirius?" Harry said frantically, leaning over the bed to take her in his arms: "Did they get you with anything?"
"Sirius is fine as far as I know. And no, he didn't get me with any spell." Fleur shook her head. She did seem exhausted, but there was a proud gleam in her dark blue eyes...
"He?" Harry frowned: "You dueled Voldemort?"
"I tried..." Fleur chuckled: "The fact that I am alive should count for something..."
Harry felt a mix between immense pride and the need to belittle her for doing something as stupid as confronting Voldemort by herself. Then, again, he'd be a hypocrite to mention that, as usually, he was the one that found himself in danger.
Fleur watched the silent battle in his bright green eyes. Finally, Harry gulped heavily and pulled her into an even closer embrace: "I am just glad that you are okay. And I am proud of you for standing up against him. I just wish I would have been there from the beginning."
The Veela gave him a sweet kiss, pouring some of her magic into him to calm the boy, who was still running high on adrenaline. She gently stroked his hair: "I had to go... And I am glad I did. It sounds like I bought us just enough time for you and Dumbledore to arrive."
Harry nodded gravely; his mind was still processing what he had just witnessed. They remained in a tight embrace for a few minutes, simply holding each. Then, Fleur cupped his cheek and forced him to look up.
"What is it, my love?" Fleur asked curiously with a playful smile on her lips: "Nothing else should occupy your thoughts while holding your girlfriend in those strong arms."
Harry gulped heavily: "It's Voldemort... He can fly..."
The smile vanished from Fleur's lips, replaced by a mask of doubt: "C'est impossible! What do mean, Harry?"
"I mean what I said." Harry repeated: "He can fly without a broom, without any support and he can cast spells while he does so..."
"You cannot simply amply the levitation charm to yourself!" Fleur huffed: "How does he do it?"
"I honestly don't know." Harry shrugged: "But I have to find out. I will ask Salazar and Dumbledore..."
Talking about the headmaster, just then the man appeared behind the curtain looking gravely, his wrinkles even deeper.
"How bad is it?" Harry asked.
"Voldemort has withdrawn from the prison when the Ministry arrived there a few minutes ago. Not a single criminal was left. The cells are all empty. The halls and corridors, however, are littered with the bodies of the guards and any other resistance he met. Tom killed them all..."
"How many escaped prisoners are we talking about?" Harry asked: "And how many people did we lose?"
"Azkaban held around 25 high-security convicts and over 50 common criminals." Dumbledore explained: "Undoubtedly, the majority will join Voldemort's ranks. As for our own forces, we are still counting our losses for tonight. We know that the Order lost Emmeline Vance and William Weasley tonight..."
Harry could not really say that he knew either of them well enough to truly mourn their deaths. He cast a glance at Fleur to see how she reacted. After all, what he knew was that the man had tried to hit on her repeatedly. Sure, that was annoying, even though Harry had never been actually worried about competition. But still, the Order could have used the admittedly skilled curse breaker in their fight against Voldemort.
Dumbledore continued with teary eyes: "Out of the 30 prison guards stationed at Azkaban, only two survived. They are currently in Saint Mungo's. Voldemort had launched a decoy attack in Hogsmeade at the same time and had one of his followers cast the Dark Mark. The majority of the Auror forces were immediately ordered there. Out of the six Aurors that were sent to help in Azkaban, only Kingsley and Nymphadora survived."
"A heavy blow, upsetting the balance in favor towards Voldemort then..." Harry mused.
"So, it would seem." Dumbledore nodded: "Tom now has the manpower to resort to his usual strategy of frequent attacks on small muggle or wizarding settlements. The war has only just started."
"There is something else we need to talk about." Harry declares seriously.
"I have no explanation for you, my boy," Dumbledore shook his head: "I find myself just as perplexed at what I witnessed as anyone else who was present. I will have to take a look at the memory and see if there is anything I can conclude from that. Perhaps our new common friend also has an idea..."
"It is supposed to be impossible!" Fleur chimed: "One of the few aspects of magic researchers had agreed, which simply could not be achieved."
"And still there are countless theories on how one might possibly do the unspeakable, Ms. Delacour." Dumbledore inclined his head: "You have my gratitude for holding off the man for as long until Harry's and my arrival. You should be very proud of yourself. A true testament to Beauxbaton Academy."
"Thank you, Headmaster." Fleur did her best to make her reply sound neutral, but Harry could not help notice the faint blush and how her eyes beamed up in pride. He chuckled.
Fleur scowled at him: "Now, headmaster, if you could tell where you have taken my boyfriend this afternoon? It took my Patronus several minutes to finally reach you..."
"I think that's best for Harry to tell." Dumbledore chuckled with a twinkle in his eye: "I would not dare spoil that surprise. And Harry... while I think it's wise for you to consult on such things with Ms. Delacour, it would not do well for this information to reach the public. Sometimes, secrets a necessary."
"I agree, Headmaster..." Harry mused: "Sometimes they are..."
The professor left them and since Fleur felt much better already, Harry and the Veela took their leave, too, and apparated back to her flat in Diagon Alley.
"Well?" Fleur asked with a raised eyebrow, as soon as they sat down on the small couch in her living room: "Spill already, my love!"
Harry chuckled: "Let's just say that Voldemort was not the only Dark Lord I encountered today..."
Fleur stared at him with confusion in her large blue eyes: "I don't understand Harry... Where were you?"
Harry sighed: "I know this is going to sound crazy, but I was in Nurmengard, meeting Gellert Grindelwald..."
Fleur looked at him in disbelief for a few seconds, scanning his facial expression for any sign that would show her boyfriend was jesting.
"You are not joking, are you?" She gulped heavily: "Why did Dumbledore take you there? How did you meet?"
Harry told her everything. From Dumbledore's concern of not being able to teach Harry enough about the Dark Arts, to his very interesting conversation with Grindelwald and the first... lesson... if one could call it, right before her Patronus arrived.
"Incredible... Why would he offer to teach you though?"
"I think he is just bored." Harry laughed: "He has been imprisoned for over 50 years with no one besides Dumbledore visiting him. I assume he is just desperate for some action. In a way, Grindelwald will be proud of himself, if I really manage to beat Voldemort by using something he showed and taught me. I guess it's like living through someone else..."
"It does make sense..." Fleur mused: "But from what you have told me, he seemed to almost expect your arrival. He knew so much about you..."
"I think he did." Harry nodded: "He assumed that I was a Horcrux even before Dumbledore did so. He must have also known that Dumbledore himself was too old to fight a new rising Dark Lord. And even though he does not want to admit it, he recognizes that there might be something to the prophecy. Ever since Dumbledore first told him about me, he started collecting any articles that even mention me..."
"He is worse than those shallow little fangirls." Fleur pouted, remembering Romilda Vane and her attempt at ensnaring her boyfriend with a love potion.
"My biggest fangirl will always be you." Harry chuckled and pressed a kiss to her lips. Fleur tried her best to remain unaffected, but she could not help a moan and some soft gasps escape her lips, as Harry did incredible things with his tongue in her mouth. They playfully wrestled for dominance on the small couch.
At some point, Harry had lost his shirt and the buttons on Fleur's blouse had opened, exposing a black lacy bra. Harry won their little game and grinned at Fleur lying underneath him, panting heavily, with a slight blush on her cheeks and large dilated eyes.
"What are you going to do now, Harry?" Fleur smirked and roamed through his hair with one hand while the other slowly trailed down his back, leaving goosebumps on Harry's skin.
"I will show you just how big of a fan of yours I am," Harry replied with a chuckle as he lowered his lips once more...
February 17th, 1997
"Level one: Minister for Magic and Support Staff." The cool female voice spoke and Harry left the small elevator as soon as its door opened. He followed the signs directing him to his destination while ignoring the exciting whispers when people in the offices to the left and right of the hallway spotted him.
It was a week after the incident at Azkaban and Harry felt restless at being unable to do something against Voldemort. Desperate times call for desperate measures, so to his own surprise, he found himself at the Ministry of Magic. Finally, he arrived at a large door with two Auror stationed in front of it.
"This is a high-security area, off-limits to civilians." The one to the right stated as he blocked Harry's path. Harry recognized Dawlish and groaned in irritation.
"You should really let me through. I have an appointment with the Minister." Harry lied.
"Does the Minister even know of this appointment?" Percy Weasley suddenly appeared around a corner: "There is nothing mentioned in his calendar for right now." He sneered at Harry.
"Then be a good little boy, squeeze me in there, and tell him I am right here, Weasley." Harry snarled: "Trust me, he will want to hear what I have to say..."
The Ginger grumbled but reluctantly entered the room. Harry made out the faint voices behind the door. Then, he heard the unmistakable yelp by Scrimgeour: "Well what are you waiting for, boy? Ask him to enter already."
A second later, Percy reappeared looked visibly distressed: "Minister Scrimgeour will receive you now, Mr. Potter."
"Perfect." Harry grinned and took another step forward only to be stopped by Dawlish once again, who held him at an arm's length: "No wands behind this point." The man huffed and held out his hand expectantly.
"That might be a problem then, because I won't separate myself from this wand. I suggest you move, Dawlish." Harry said dangerously.
"Now listen here, boy." The man spoke up but was interrupted by the Minister once more: "For Merlin's sake, Dawlish. Just let him in already! I don't have time for this!"
Dawlish glared at Harry one last time but finally allowed the boy to enter the office. Rufus Scrimgeour was seated behind his table with stacks of parchments laying in front of him. The man looked deeply stressed and significantly worse than the last time Harry had seen him. Nevertheless, he gave Harry a polite smile.
"Come in, Mr. Potter." The Minister greeted Harry and gestured for a seat: "How may I help you?"
Harry was surprised by how well he was received, especially since their last encounter did not end on the best terms. However, since then, the public pressure had only increased on the Minister. People finally wanted to see results.
"I come here with a proposition for you, Minister," Harry replied while he took a seat and accepted a glass of scotch.
"And what exactly does this proposition entail?" Scrimgeour asked him warily.
"There is no point denying that we have a common enemy, who recently dealt quite a heavy blow to both of us." Harry explained: "The Ministry has lost control over Azkaban and the lives of not only the prison guards, but also the Aurors. Dumbledore's Order is also licking their wounds..."
Harry purposefully made sure to make it look like he was fully involved in the Order business and on Dumbledore's side in this conflict. It was for the best to make his motives seem as transparent as possible for the Minister.
"I know how much we have lost, Potter." the Minister groaned as he rubbed his temples: "I have served many years with some of the Aurors that lost their lives that day. I did not need a reminder on that."
"That's why I came with a proposition, not a reminder, Sir." Harry inclined his head: "We have to strike back and while we may not be able to prevent Voldemort from continuing his attacks on our population, we can significantly limit the amount of information he receives."
"What do you have in mind?" The Minister was clearly interested in this.
"Something bold." Harry replied: "Something that, if we succeed, will deal a more substantial blow to Voldemort than the loss of any number of followers he might have just broken out of prison."
The minister picked up his wand and waved it at the door. Harry heard the lock click and felt a few privacy wards going up: "Well, you have my curiosity, Mr. Potter. Now you just have to share your idea..."