The Greater Good
by Kiana Unei
Harry and his world are not mine. Harry and his magical community belong to J K Rowling. The rest of the world is on sale now for 2.95 at your local dealer. But bring gloves! There is a war going on! Which is kinda scary! I'm hyper right now! I like these thingies"!"!! No, actually, I don't preticularily!!! I'm never messing with billywig stings again!! Haha!!
Wow, I never thought so many people would like my work! Usually Mom's silent except for 'that's nice, sweetie', Nick would rather do something else, and I can't show Harry Potter to dad because he hasn't read the books. My cousin's over now, too. He thinks Harry Potter is childish. ('~')
But anyway, thank you so much!
And by the way, even though a Howler would be interesting, either regular or extra crispy, please refrain from sending me any. Sirius has agreed to Wesson's plan, so he's out of danger from a Dementor's Kiss. Plus you'd burn down my Dad's house.
(WARNING: ther is no spel chek on ths computer. No accents over letter, either. Also, to make matters more . . . irritating . . . the drachma key is busted. Donno if you noticed, but there should have been a drachma (Greek currency) sign before 2.95. Just pretend there is.)
Chapter VII:
the Prisoner of Fate
"Harry- I want you to promise me something."
Harry turned from the filthy window of the old boat to face his godfather. "What?"
"That you won't run off and get yourself killed." Sirius' pale eyes, crystal blue with a ring of the deepest green, took on an even more haunted look than usual.
"I won't."
"Harry . . ." Sirius gave him a Look, something akin to the death glare he had perfected during his years imprisoned in the 'Dark Fortress'. "I know you probably won't intentionally, but, well, you do have a knack for attracting trouble."
"Yeah." Harry returned his gaze to the window, stareing out at the open ocean. The morning sun was just barely topping the gray waters, sending prisms of colour through the spray swept up by the small ship. Judgeing by the position of the sun, Harry guessed that they were heading north- far, far north.
"I can't believe they're sending a kid to Azkaban," Sirius grumbled almost inaudiably.
"Not as a prisoner," Harry pointed out. "I'm supposed to be a sort of caretaker."
"Still . . ." Sirius let his sentance die unfinished. The island was a place of horrors; it could have passed as the tenth level of Hell.
Memories he had tried time and again to banish surfaced; Sirius changed both his line of thought and the subject. "Harry, do you have any idea what NeuroTech is?"
"What?"
"No, I was asking you."
"Oh. No."
Such witty dialouge, Sirius thought. Harry must go quiet when apprehension rears its ugly head.
"Hey, Harry, ever hear the one about the race between these two fellows working for enamy governments?" Sirius pulled his gaunt face into a half-actualized grin. Harry shrugged, keeping his gaze at the window.
"Okay, so there was these two fellows, let's say- an Auror and a Death Eater. And they have a foot race. The Auror wins.
When the Death Eater gets back to old Voldey-McMouldy, he's understandably afraid to admit his defeat."
Here, Sirius' voice took on a raspy, demented tone, " 'Well, my brainless servent, how did it turn out?' "
And then a high-pitched snivle that sounded much like Wormtail's, " 'Well, my lord! I came in second, and the Auror came in next-to-last!' "
He waited for Harry to laugh. Or give his godfather a withering look. Or do anything at all.
"See, 'cause Voldemort didn't know that there were only two atheletes."
"Oh." Harry's mouth worked a few times, then he said, "Is . . . Azkaban mostly square, with some turrents?"
Sirius made a noise of agreement. Then his pale eyes widened- "Why?"
"No reason," Harry said quickly, turning away from the window, "just wondering."
Sirius reached his hand through the bars separating them and gave Harry's shoulder a small squeeze. "It'll be okay, kiddo. I've got a plan worked out."
"You do?" Harry's face brightened.
"Yep."
* * *
Azkaban was exactly how Harry imagined it would be: cold and forbidding. He was horrified of the Dementors, dispite the fact that the creatures did not use their icy powers on any of the freemen- the few humans who worked there. Old fears die hard, he supposed.
Sirius, too, stopped his attempts at being funny upon his first step onto the rocky cliffs; Harry wondered how he felt, returning to this place.
The guards, hard-faced and dressed in robes of burnt siena, were waiting when the two passengers of the little boat emerged. Sirius was apprehended at once, his arms twisted roughly behind his back and chained at the elbows. Heavy manacles bearing the Azkaban crest were slammed over his wrists, and simmilar restraining devices tied about his ankles. His face was unreadable- a defence mechanism of burrying emotions that left him looking hollowed-out. Surprisingly, his deadened eyes were flickering with life for the first time Harry could remember- with a deep and firey rage. Harry realized with a jolt what this was doing to his godfather, and how close he actually was to toeing the line of psycosis. It scared him.
"Come with me, boy."
The speaker was a mean-looking woman standing off to the side, looking slightly bored. Obidiantly, Harry wandered over to her.
"My name is Captain DeForteangn. I am in charge here. Azkaban's never had a caretaker before, and if you step out of line, you're out of here. Understand?"
"Yes, Ma'am." Harry felt strangely cold, and sick at heart.
"Yes 'Captain'."
"Yes, Captain."
She looked contemptuously at him, like she were putting up with letting Peter Pettigrew into an All-You-Can-Eat buffet. "You will report to work at four in the morning, eat breakfast at four fourty-five, lunch at two, and supper at eight. I don't want you disturbing either the guards or the prisoners. You be in your quarters at eight thirty, and be quiet."
"Yes, Captain." He was reminded strongly of Uncle Vernon.
Chapter VIII:
Desperate Attempt at Mind Games
His fear of the Dementors amused one of the younger guards, a fellow named Brian, who actually wasn't that much older than Harry.
"Aww, is ickle Denny scawed of the ickle Dementows?" Brian joked, retrieving the pail and mop Harry had dropped when one of the things passed by.
"You're not?" he asked.
"Naw. You get used t'em after a while." Brian watched as the boy struggled with the filthy floor, a floor that probably hadn't been washed since Azkaban was built. " 'Eard you almost fainted when you first saw 'un."
"Did not," Harry said crossly, and Brian laughed. "Don't you have guard duty to do?"
"I am." the man replied, "I'm guardin' you from hittin' your head if you faint."
"Shut up." Harry stared at the area he had just washed. "This floor used to be white?"
"Naw, it used to be pink," Brian had a stupid smirk on his face, "with cute little hearts and bunny rabits on it."
Harry swung the mop in his direction, making the guard stumble backwards to avoid a snootfull of dirty water.
"Why can't I use a wand?" Harry mumbed, rubbing his sore arms.
"They're afraid you might lose it, and one of the convicts might get hold of it."
Harry swore mentally, thinking that would have been the perfect way to free his godfather.
"Speakin' of convicts," Brian said, "hey, Deneb, guess who we caught?"
Please let it be Pettigrew, please let it be Pettigrew, please let . . . "Who?"
"Sirius Black!"
"Oh, right." Darn, Harry thought, disappointed.
"Wanna see him?"
"Sure!" Harry said, "Er- yeah, all right." He followed the man through the gloomy, tourch-lit hallways, deeper into the heart of Azkaban, his heart pounding with apprihension. It had been less than a day since they had arrived, but Harry still missed his godfather sorely. He had also seen the look in Black's eyes when he was taken away, and didn't know what to expect of him now.
Brian stopped outside of a dark space; it took Harry a moment for his eyes to adjust, and then he came face-to-robe with two greusome looking Dementors. Harry stumbled back in fear, making his 'guide' laugh.
"All right, blokes," Brian said, "outta the way, go haunt somewhere else." Surprisingly, not only did the Dementors not give the cocky human the Kiss, but they actually glided off down the darkened hall. Brian beckoned Harry into the dark, square-shaped shadow the monsters had just abandoned.
He obeyed, walking forward, and smacked his nose and forehead hard against two metal bars hidden by darkness. Brian laughed, again.
"Are you all right?" Black's voice sounded shakey, comming from the depths of the shadow.
"Sirius?" Harry asked, squinting, and rubbed his abused nose.
"I'm here."
Blindly, Harry felt between two of the bars, reaching into the cell.
"Watch it," Brian warned.
Harry felt Sirius take his hand, and felt a rush of warmth displace the chill of the Dementors. Sirius was okay. So far.
"Hey!" Brian yelped, grabbing the back of Harry's cheap-issue brown uniform, tugging him backwards. Harry held onto his godfather's unseen hand, gripping him like a life-line.
"Let me alone! It's all right!" Harry said.
"Like Hell it is!" Brian succedded in pulling the boy away, then spun him around to face him. "What in all of creation do you think you're doing?!"
"Er-" Harry racked his mind for an acceptable explanation, and came up short. "Er- sorry." he managed.
"Well, I should hope so!" Brian ranted, "Merlin's bloody beard! That has to have been the single most STUPID thing I've ever seen ANYONE do! And that includes the nutter prisoners! You tryin' to kill yourself?!"
"No," Harry answered meekly.
Brian glanced at Sirius, whom Harry could just make out leaning against the bars of his cell, watching them.
"You're lucky he didn't KILL you!" Brian said, shaking Harry by the shoulders. "Don't you EVER do that again!"
"Okay," Harry agreed glumly, as the young man hauled him away from the darkness of the High-Security level.
Outside, the setting sun seemed painfully bright. Orange and mauve- tipped clouds floated lazily across the quickly darkening sky, reflecting the glow of the ocean swells. Iceburgs jutted up from the fridged water, giving off gusts of wispy fog as the warm southern wind stuck their peaks. Harry shivered inside of his uniform, watching his breath dissapate into the northern sky.
Ironic how such a terrible place could have such a breathtakingly enchanting view.
* * *
Harry made his way down the steep, angular cliffs of Azkaban, feeling his way gingerly over the rocky path leading to the tied-off hoppers. He hadn't arrived by the sleek, hovering boats, but Harry had seen them work in the moving pictures displayed in 'Magical Transportation and Spells for Keeping them Working'- a book Ron had barrowed long ago from the Hogwarts library. Harry stongly suspected that Ron had yet to return it.
A sharp rock caught him just behind his toes, making Harry utter an obscinity he had heard his godfather use in times of crisis. He hopped forward in the half-light, holding his injured foot, and tripped over something invisible to his eyes.
"Ouch!" He reached behind himself, feeling his way over a cold, somewhat smooth cylindrical object. Part of a smooth branch? Harry felt along to the end, traceing the outline of where the branch split into five shorter sections.
A cold surged within Harry's insides. He fumbled in the darkness, drawing away from the horrifying thing- a human arm, severed halfway to the shoulder. Harry swallowed hard, trying not to be sick.
Get to the hoppers, get to the hoppers, get them and steal one for you and Sirius, get to the hoppers. Don't think about anything else. Hoppers, hoppers, hoppers, hop-
A ragged flap of clotheing about the dead arm posessed an inscription, sewn on with silver thread: Neurological Technologies Inc.
Harry stared. What had Sirius said about a Neuro-Tech? He tilted his head sideways, reading the rest of it.
Neurological Technologies Inc. "To better ourselves for the good of Mankind!"
Underneith was a slip of filthy parchment, which Harry remouved gingerly.
"Read and then Distroy.
Programme failed.
Subject dead.
Sirius Black can survive naturally without our aid. I suggest we find and pursuade him. Use any means nessicary, including tourture. He will help us. The Crest is more valuable than that fool Minister Reiton thinks.
-Xa"
A/N: 11:03 at night. Got to sleep. Been sick. Otherwise I wouldn't have left it at a cliffie. Sorry.
by Kiana Unei
Harry and his world are not mine. Harry and his magical community belong to J K Rowling. The rest of the world is on sale now for 2.95 at your local dealer. But bring gloves! There is a war going on! Which is kinda scary! I'm hyper right now! I like these thingies"!"!! No, actually, I don't preticularily!!! I'm never messing with billywig stings again!! Haha!!
Wow, I never thought so many people would like my work! Usually Mom's silent except for 'that's nice, sweetie', Nick would rather do something else, and I can't show Harry Potter to dad because he hasn't read the books. My cousin's over now, too. He thinks Harry Potter is childish. ('~')
But anyway, thank you so much!
And by the way, even though a Howler would be interesting, either regular or extra crispy, please refrain from sending me any. Sirius has agreed to Wesson's plan, so he's out of danger from a Dementor's Kiss. Plus you'd burn down my Dad's house.
(WARNING: ther is no spel chek on ths computer. No accents over letter, either. Also, to make matters more . . . irritating . . . the drachma key is busted. Donno if you noticed, but there should have been a drachma (Greek currency) sign before 2.95. Just pretend there is.)
Chapter VII:
the Prisoner of Fate
"Harry- I want you to promise me something."
Harry turned from the filthy window of the old boat to face his godfather. "What?"
"That you won't run off and get yourself killed." Sirius' pale eyes, crystal blue with a ring of the deepest green, took on an even more haunted look than usual.
"I won't."
"Harry . . ." Sirius gave him a Look, something akin to the death glare he had perfected during his years imprisoned in the 'Dark Fortress'. "I know you probably won't intentionally, but, well, you do have a knack for attracting trouble."
"Yeah." Harry returned his gaze to the window, stareing out at the open ocean. The morning sun was just barely topping the gray waters, sending prisms of colour through the spray swept up by the small ship. Judgeing by the position of the sun, Harry guessed that they were heading north- far, far north.
"I can't believe they're sending a kid to Azkaban," Sirius grumbled almost inaudiably.
"Not as a prisoner," Harry pointed out. "I'm supposed to be a sort of caretaker."
"Still . . ." Sirius let his sentance die unfinished. The island was a place of horrors; it could have passed as the tenth level of Hell.
Memories he had tried time and again to banish surfaced; Sirius changed both his line of thought and the subject. "Harry, do you have any idea what NeuroTech is?"
"What?"
"No, I was asking you."
"Oh. No."
Such witty dialouge, Sirius thought. Harry must go quiet when apprehension rears its ugly head.
"Hey, Harry, ever hear the one about the race between these two fellows working for enamy governments?" Sirius pulled his gaunt face into a half-actualized grin. Harry shrugged, keeping his gaze at the window.
"Okay, so there was these two fellows, let's say- an Auror and a Death Eater. And they have a foot race. The Auror wins.
When the Death Eater gets back to old Voldey-McMouldy, he's understandably afraid to admit his defeat."
Here, Sirius' voice took on a raspy, demented tone, " 'Well, my brainless servent, how did it turn out?' "
And then a high-pitched snivle that sounded much like Wormtail's, " 'Well, my lord! I came in second, and the Auror came in next-to-last!' "
He waited for Harry to laugh. Or give his godfather a withering look. Or do anything at all.
"See, 'cause Voldemort didn't know that there were only two atheletes."
"Oh." Harry's mouth worked a few times, then he said, "Is . . . Azkaban mostly square, with some turrents?"
Sirius made a noise of agreement. Then his pale eyes widened- "Why?"
"No reason," Harry said quickly, turning away from the window, "just wondering."
Sirius reached his hand through the bars separating them and gave Harry's shoulder a small squeeze. "It'll be okay, kiddo. I've got a plan worked out."
"You do?" Harry's face brightened.
"Yep."
* * *
Azkaban was exactly how Harry imagined it would be: cold and forbidding. He was horrified of the Dementors, dispite the fact that the creatures did not use their icy powers on any of the freemen- the few humans who worked there. Old fears die hard, he supposed.
Sirius, too, stopped his attempts at being funny upon his first step onto the rocky cliffs; Harry wondered how he felt, returning to this place.
The guards, hard-faced and dressed in robes of burnt siena, were waiting when the two passengers of the little boat emerged. Sirius was apprehended at once, his arms twisted roughly behind his back and chained at the elbows. Heavy manacles bearing the Azkaban crest were slammed over his wrists, and simmilar restraining devices tied about his ankles. His face was unreadable- a defence mechanism of burrying emotions that left him looking hollowed-out. Surprisingly, his deadened eyes were flickering with life for the first time Harry could remember- with a deep and firey rage. Harry realized with a jolt what this was doing to his godfather, and how close he actually was to toeing the line of psycosis. It scared him.
"Come with me, boy."
The speaker was a mean-looking woman standing off to the side, looking slightly bored. Obidiantly, Harry wandered over to her.
"My name is Captain DeForteangn. I am in charge here. Azkaban's never had a caretaker before, and if you step out of line, you're out of here. Understand?"
"Yes, Ma'am." Harry felt strangely cold, and sick at heart.
"Yes 'Captain'."
"Yes, Captain."
She looked contemptuously at him, like she were putting up with letting Peter Pettigrew into an All-You-Can-Eat buffet. "You will report to work at four in the morning, eat breakfast at four fourty-five, lunch at two, and supper at eight. I don't want you disturbing either the guards or the prisoners. You be in your quarters at eight thirty, and be quiet."
"Yes, Captain." He was reminded strongly of Uncle Vernon.
Chapter VIII:
Desperate Attempt at Mind Games
His fear of the Dementors amused one of the younger guards, a fellow named Brian, who actually wasn't that much older than Harry.
"Aww, is ickle Denny scawed of the ickle Dementows?" Brian joked, retrieving the pail and mop Harry had dropped when one of the things passed by.
"You're not?" he asked.
"Naw. You get used t'em after a while." Brian watched as the boy struggled with the filthy floor, a floor that probably hadn't been washed since Azkaban was built. " 'Eard you almost fainted when you first saw 'un."
"Did not," Harry said crossly, and Brian laughed. "Don't you have guard duty to do?"
"I am." the man replied, "I'm guardin' you from hittin' your head if you faint."
"Shut up." Harry stared at the area he had just washed. "This floor used to be white?"
"Naw, it used to be pink," Brian had a stupid smirk on his face, "with cute little hearts and bunny rabits on it."
Harry swung the mop in his direction, making the guard stumble backwards to avoid a snootfull of dirty water.
"Why can't I use a wand?" Harry mumbed, rubbing his sore arms.
"They're afraid you might lose it, and one of the convicts might get hold of it."
Harry swore mentally, thinking that would have been the perfect way to free his godfather.
"Speakin' of convicts," Brian said, "hey, Deneb, guess who we caught?"
Please let it be Pettigrew, please let it be Pettigrew, please let . . . "Who?"
"Sirius Black!"
"Oh, right." Darn, Harry thought, disappointed.
"Wanna see him?"
"Sure!" Harry said, "Er- yeah, all right." He followed the man through the gloomy, tourch-lit hallways, deeper into the heart of Azkaban, his heart pounding with apprihension. It had been less than a day since they had arrived, but Harry still missed his godfather sorely. He had also seen the look in Black's eyes when he was taken away, and didn't know what to expect of him now.
Brian stopped outside of a dark space; it took Harry a moment for his eyes to adjust, and then he came face-to-robe with two greusome looking Dementors. Harry stumbled back in fear, making his 'guide' laugh.
"All right, blokes," Brian said, "outta the way, go haunt somewhere else." Surprisingly, not only did the Dementors not give the cocky human the Kiss, but they actually glided off down the darkened hall. Brian beckoned Harry into the dark, square-shaped shadow the monsters had just abandoned.
He obeyed, walking forward, and smacked his nose and forehead hard against two metal bars hidden by darkness. Brian laughed, again.
"Are you all right?" Black's voice sounded shakey, comming from the depths of the shadow.
"Sirius?" Harry asked, squinting, and rubbed his abused nose.
"I'm here."
Blindly, Harry felt between two of the bars, reaching into the cell.
"Watch it," Brian warned.
Harry felt Sirius take his hand, and felt a rush of warmth displace the chill of the Dementors. Sirius was okay. So far.
"Hey!" Brian yelped, grabbing the back of Harry's cheap-issue brown uniform, tugging him backwards. Harry held onto his godfather's unseen hand, gripping him like a life-line.
"Let me alone! It's all right!" Harry said.
"Like Hell it is!" Brian succedded in pulling the boy away, then spun him around to face him. "What in all of creation do you think you're doing?!"
"Er-" Harry racked his mind for an acceptable explanation, and came up short. "Er- sorry." he managed.
"Well, I should hope so!" Brian ranted, "Merlin's bloody beard! That has to have been the single most STUPID thing I've ever seen ANYONE do! And that includes the nutter prisoners! You tryin' to kill yourself?!"
"No," Harry answered meekly.
Brian glanced at Sirius, whom Harry could just make out leaning against the bars of his cell, watching them.
"You're lucky he didn't KILL you!" Brian said, shaking Harry by the shoulders. "Don't you EVER do that again!"
"Okay," Harry agreed glumly, as the young man hauled him away from the darkness of the High-Security level.
Outside, the setting sun seemed painfully bright. Orange and mauve- tipped clouds floated lazily across the quickly darkening sky, reflecting the glow of the ocean swells. Iceburgs jutted up from the fridged water, giving off gusts of wispy fog as the warm southern wind stuck their peaks. Harry shivered inside of his uniform, watching his breath dissapate into the northern sky.
Ironic how such a terrible place could have such a breathtakingly enchanting view.
* * *
Harry made his way down the steep, angular cliffs of Azkaban, feeling his way gingerly over the rocky path leading to the tied-off hoppers. He hadn't arrived by the sleek, hovering boats, but Harry had seen them work in the moving pictures displayed in 'Magical Transportation and Spells for Keeping them Working'- a book Ron had barrowed long ago from the Hogwarts library. Harry stongly suspected that Ron had yet to return it.
A sharp rock caught him just behind his toes, making Harry utter an obscinity he had heard his godfather use in times of crisis. He hopped forward in the half-light, holding his injured foot, and tripped over something invisible to his eyes.
"Ouch!" He reached behind himself, feeling his way over a cold, somewhat smooth cylindrical object. Part of a smooth branch? Harry felt along to the end, traceing the outline of where the branch split into five shorter sections.
A cold surged within Harry's insides. He fumbled in the darkness, drawing away from the horrifying thing- a human arm, severed halfway to the shoulder. Harry swallowed hard, trying not to be sick.
Get to the hoppers, get to the hoppers, get them and steal one for you and Sirius, get to the hoppers. Don't think about anything else. Hoppers, hoppers, hoppers, hop-
A ragged flap of clotheing about the dead arm posessed an inscription, sewn on with silver thread: Neurological Technologies Inc.
Harry stared. What had Sirius said about a Neuro-Tech? He tilted his head sideways, reading the rest of it.
Neurological Technologies Inc. "To better ourselves for the good of Mankind!"
Underneith was a slip of filthy parchment, which Harry remouved gingerly.
"Read and then Distroy.
Programme failed.
Subject dead.
Sirius Black can survive naturally without our aid. I suggest we find and pursuade him. Use any means nessicary, including tourture. He will help us. The Crest is more valuable than that fool Minister Reiton thinks.
-Xa"
A/N: 11:03 at night. Got to sleep. Been sick. Otherwise I wouldn't have left it at a cliffie. Sorry.